#quit stressing!! we’ll get there!!! it’s fine!!!

[ranger-kellyn]

ugh gOD I’m ready for the stress of an international flight to be OVER WITH

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Taglist -> @girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[cutielando]

the curse of monaco | c.l.

synopsis: in which Charles finally conquers Monaco

my masterlist

There was nothing like racing through the streets you grew up in, Charles would always say to you.

In all the years you had known him and been with him, he had only had one goal: winning the Monaco Grand Prix. 

You didn’t know why that was, whether it was a tribute to his late father, a tribute to Jules or just the pride of knowing he conquered the streets he had walked his entire life. Maybe it was a combination of all 3.

Charles had not been treated well by his home race the past couple of years. 2 DNFs, 1 DNS and 2 disappointing results had plagued his mind, making the weeks leading up to the race filled with more stress than he should carry.

But you had a good feeling this time. Ever since he got into the car in FP1, then topping the charts all throughout FP2 and FP3, you felt something in your gut change. For once, after so many doubtful years, there was no worry and disappointment in your heart as you waited in the garage for the qualifying session of the weekend. Every negative feeling was replaced with hope, so much hope that you didn’t know what to do with it.

Charles was the complete opposite. While he couldn’t deny that the car had finally come alive and he had the pace he needed, he felt like he couldn’t let himself hope too much, not after everything he’d been through.

“Come on, you know I’m right. You’ll be on pole and you’ll win the race” you said to him as you lounged in his driver room, watching him get dressed in his fireproofs and racing suit.

“Mon amour, you know how Monaco is. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed if I don’t get pole or don’t win” he reasoned, but deep down he was feeling the exact same thing you were.

“But this year is going to be different, I know it will!” you pressed on, making him chuckle in adoration at the hear of your determined voice. “Every other driver has said the same thing and every presenter from F1 TV is saying you’re definitely going to break the curse tomorrow” 

“Have you been watching F1 TV again to hear what they have to say about me?” he teased, laughing once he sees the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“That’s not the point. I’m telling you, I have a good feeling about tomorrow. But still, no pressure. You go out there, drive safe and come back to me in one piece. If you end up winning, that’s great, but if you don’t, we’ll get them next year. Sounds good?” you bargained, knowing that he didn’t need any more pressure added on his shoulders than he already had.

He sighed but nodded, pausing his actions to give you a kiss.

“Let’s do it then”

And, true to his word, he came back to you, in one piece, starting from pole in the Monaco GP.

♡♡♡♡♡

There was something special in the air as you entered the paddock with Pascale and Arthur, making your way towards the Ferrari hospitality to watch the race. The entire city of Monte Carlo was absolutely buzzing with excitement, the paddock feeling more alive than ever as their home hero prepared to take on the beautiful circuit that was Monaco.

You didn’t see Charles before he got into the car, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of distraction before he started the race, but you couldn’t help sprinting down to the garage during the Red Flag, knowing you had plenty of time before the race would start up again.

Finding him wasn’t hard at all. He was speaking with his mechanics, drinking some water out of his bottle.

You approached him hurriedly, at which he excused himself from the conversation once he saw you approaching him.

“Mon amour, is everything okay? You’re supposed to be with maman, Arthur and Joris up in the hospitality” he said, worry etched on his face.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry. I just came down here to wish you good luck, you know, once FIA decides to restart the race” you joked, hoping to make his spirits lift up a little.

He chuckled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You could see the stress sitting behind the facade, the worry and pressure tensing up his muscles and demeanor.

Noticing you studying his face and realizing you knew how stressed he was, he smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You know we’re proud of you no matter what, right?” you whispered, thankful for the loud sounds of mechanics working left and right that helped drown out your conversation to other people around you.

He sighed, but nodded. “I know, but I just can’t shake the stress. I’ve been quick all weekend and everyone knows that. What if something happens and my race goes to shit like every time? I don’t think I’ll be ready to cope with another disappointment from my home track” he confessed, which made your heart squeeze.

His entire life, the only thing that he wanted was to win in Monaco, but the track has always failed him. And for once, he felt like he could finally break the curse that has been following him around for years, yet he still worried that something would completely ruin his race.

“Baby, nobody will think less of you if you don’t win today. Racing is so unpredictable, you put your life in danger every time you get in the car and people know that. We’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome today” you said, holding his face in your hands to make sure he understood you.

He bit the inside of his cheek but nodded, knowing you were right. 

“I love you” he murmured, pressing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss.

“I love you too. Be safe out there and show everyone what you’re made of” you said once you pulled away, smiling and pecking his lips once again before leaving him to it.

You made your way back to the hospitality where Charles’ family was waiting for you.

“How is he?” Pascale asked you as you sat down next to her.

“He’s stressed, but he’s doing okay. He really wants to win today” you explained, running a hand through your hair.

Pascale nodded, knowing how important this day was for her son.

“He’ll win, I can feel it” Pascale said, taking your hand in hers.

♡♡♡♡♡

Some people would say that you bewitched your fiancé, some would say that a divine force had finally taken pity upon him, but only one thing was for certain.

Charles Leclerc had finally won his home race, the Monaco Grand Prix.

From the moment he had crossed the finish line and taken the checkered flag, everything that happened was a blur. Between hugging his family, texting your friends, crying because of how proud you were of him, things were a big blur. 

Hearing him screaming on the radio had been what had made you break down. He had spent so many hours training, figuring out strategies, doing everything in his power to make sure that things would go well for him around his home streets and his hard work had finally paid off.

You couldn’t hold in the excitement that you felt, the pride you held for the man you loved more than life itself. Which frankly explains why you hurried out of the Ferrari hospitality and ran to the grid where the Ferrari mechanics were waiting for Charles.

The moment you saw him get out of the car and throw himself at his team, the cascade of tears began once again, blurring your vision which now only consisted of the red teamwear all around you.

“Y/N!” you were snapped out of your thoughts by Charles’ voice, who had noticed you crying as soon as he hugged his team.

The Ferrari mechanics quickly made way for you, letting you jump into Charles’ arms and wrapping your legs around his waist as he hugged you tightly to his body.

“I did it, Y/N. I finally did it” he cried into your shoulder, which made you let out more tears and squeeze him even tighter than you already were.

“I told you, I knew you were going to do it. My Monaco winner” you pulled away slightly to kiss him, taking his face in your hands.

The entire team cheered around you, paparazzi taking pictures upon pictures of the moment shared between you.

“I love you so fucking much” you whispered against his lips, making him grin widely.

“I love you too”

And with that, the Monaco curse has finally been broken, once and for all.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[reiding-writing]

Hi!!!! Congratulations! You’re amazing!

Could I get a couple different author’s picks for angst fics starring our favorite Dr.Spencer Reid? They do not have to end happily but they can!! Please recommend yourself as well! (Maybe your current top 3??)

Thank you, wonderful person!! -🐈‍⬛

thank you so much ml 🫶🫶

R E D ‘ S P I C K S — ANGST .ᐟ

the ogs will know i am an angst fiend in the deepest threads of my heart, and when i tell you i have plans to return to that era, i mean it 🙂‍↕️

please make sure you read all of the warnings before indulging in these fics!

red’s 2k book fayre !!

you’re losing me. | 2.0k | @parfaitblogs

in which he's an entirely different person after prison, and your relationship is crumbling.

passive aggressive. | 2.1k | @ddejavvu

spencer's stressed, and he takes it out on you. you're sure it would have hurt far worse if he'd shouted, but instead he broke you down bit by bit, his cold demeanor leaving you crying in your car.

the ninth step. | 1.1k | @pathologicalreid

spencer works to make amends after mexico, and he's starting with you.

you were like an angel to me. | 5k | @januaryembrs

spencer swore he wanted to hate her. she was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. but how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

better off as lovers. | 12k | @eideticmemory

three years after ending your relationship with spencer reid, you find yourself representing him in court on federal murder charges.

we’ll be alright. | 9.1k | @unseededtoast

in which you discover that the line between love and hate is quite fine. Your actions are done out of love, but they only make you hate yourself more and more.

transgression. | 8.2k | self rec

you're in love with spencer reid. He's in love with somebody else.

forgiven. | 3.7k | self rec

you lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. after weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

absolutely all of the love in the world to these writers and their works, if you enjoyed reading these, make sure to check out their other fics as well !!

[solxamber]

can I request a twst males (maybe females)and nrc staff with a reader who kinda likes deforms when their stress , they could be like a human slime who 'slops' around , she's human enough but some parts of her are slimy (maybe like a human magma slime from minecraft) , they stresses a lot and one day they just blob into their hands (the twst males ans staff) whilst they start crying , if this is too complicated u can ignore this.(my English is not too god)

Slime! Reader with All NRC + Rollo, Neige, Najma Viper, NRC Staff

hi! i hope I've interpreted your ask correctly! and your English is totally fine don't worry about! also I added najma because i didn't know which twst females you wanted.

Riddle Rosehearts:

When Riddle first sees you start to "slop" around, he’s at a loss for words. He's usually composed and strict, but seeing you melt in his arms—quite literally—throws him off.

“Y-You're not following the rules of physical form!” Riddle stammers, attempting to keep calm, but inside, he’s panicking. His need to control the situation is overridden by concern when you cry softly, slimy tears soaking into his uniform.

He awkwardly pats your head, trying to keep himself together. “There, there. You can cry as much as you need to, but please… maintain some semblance of form.”

Trey Clover:

Trey, with his calm demeanor, isn’t too fazed by the fact that you’re half-human, half-slime. In fact, he’s probably the most accepting.

When you melt into a puddle of stress in his arms, he just holds you close, gently massaging your shoulders (well, where your shoulders should be in slime form). “You know, stress baking helps me,” he says soothingly. “Maybe once you’re feeling solid again, we can bake something together. Or… we can make slime cookies?” He smiles softly as your sobs slow.

Cater Diamond:

Cater's immediate reaction is to whip out his phone for a picture—but then he stops himself because this moment is actually serious. When you’re upset and melting all over him, he adjusts quickly.

“Whoa, hey, hey! No need to puddle-up on me!” Cater jokes lightly but holds you tightly, letting you feel safe. “You know, I’ve heard slime baths are all the rage on MagiCam! How about we figure out how to make this slime stress into a #trend?”

Despite his attempt to lighten the mood, his grip is firm, and he lets you cry it out.

Ace Trappola:

Ace, being Ace, doesn’t know what to do when you start to melt into slime. His first instinct is to make fun of the situation, but the second you start crying, he feels a little bad.

“Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to stress you out that much!” Ace protests, awkwardly wiping your slimy tears. “You know, some people use this stuff for beauty treatments, so really, you’re just giving me a free face mask.”

Even though he’s flustered, Ace sticks by your side, not moving until you feel better.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce’s first instinct is to panic when he sees you melting. His problem-solving brain kicks into overdrive, but there’s no quick fix for slime stress.

“I-Is this normal?! Should I be calling a healer?” he blurts out while cradling you, his heart racing. His protective instincts take over as he holds you close, even though you’re all slimy. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. I’ve got your back, okay?”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona looks down at the slimey version of you with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting to literally have you melting in his arms.

“You’re a mess, herbivore,” Leona grumbles, but there's a warmth in his voice as he holds onto you, preventing you from dripping all over the floor. He doesn’t let go, even when his tail gets a little slimy too. “Don’t worry about it. Just stick close, okay?”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie is caught off guard by your sudden transformation, but he’s adaptable. He scoops you up into his arms with a quick grin.

“Hey, hey, don’t go melting all over the place! I’ve got things to do, y’know?” Ruggie jokes lightly. But his tone softens when he sees your distress. “But I guess those can wait. C’mere, I’ll help you get back on your feet—or whatever you have when you’re not slime.”

Jack Howl:

Jack is momentarily stunned when you melt in his arms. His first reaction is to try to lift you back up, but, well, you’re slime, so that doesn’t quite work out.

He huffs, blushing a little. “Just… take your time. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got you, okay?” Jack's protective nature shines through, his arms gently wrapped around what solid parts of you remain.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, ever the strategist, watches you melt with wide eyes, calculating all the ways to “fix” the situation. However, when you start to sob, his business-like demeanor cracks.

“Ah… There, there,” he says, awkwardly patting your head as you slime down his pristine suit. “I assure you, we can handle this… strategically. No need to cry.” Despite his words, Azul’s genuine concern for you is obvious as he holds you.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd thinks your slime form is hilarious. The second you start to melt, he bursts out laughing.

“Whoa! Shrimpy, you're all gooey now!” Floyd teases, poking at your slimy form. But when he sees you crying, his mood shifts in an instant. “Aww, don’t be sad, Shrimpy. I like this version of you, too!”

He wraps himself around you, squeezing you tightly—slime and all.

Jade Leech:

Jade is intrigued by your stress-induced slime form. While he finds it fascinating, he’s also quick to comfort you when you start crying.

“Quite an interesting phenomenon,” Jade muses, wiping away your slimy tears with a handkerchief. “But please, don’t distress yourself. There’s no need for that. I’m right here.” His gentle voice soothes you as he helps you reform.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is both shocked and amused when you start melting in his arms, but he quickly recovers, hugging you tightly.

“Oh no! You’re turning into slime! Is there something I can do? Wait, I know—let’s throw a ‘Feel Better’ party!” Kalim’s enthusiasm is infectious, but he holds onto you as you cry, offering endless reassurances.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil tries to remain composed when you melt into his arms, though he’s secretly panicking on the inside.

“I suppose this is a normal reaction to stress for you?” he says calmly, even though he’s not sure what to do. He strokes your hair (or, well, slime), patiently waiting for you to calm down. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll help you through this.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s immediate reaction to your slime form is a mixture of shock and mild horror—at first, he’s concerned about you, but also a bit put out by the mess.

“My robes…” he sighs, but his voice softens as he holds you, tears and slime alike. “You’re allowed to cry. But I refuse to let you stay in this state of disarray.”

He brushes the slime from your face and helps you regain composure, all while managing to maintain his usual grace.

Rook Hunt:

Rook is enchanted by your unique form. The second you melt into his arms, he’s already waxing poetic.

“Ah, mon cher! Even in your most vulnerable state, you are truly magnificent!” Rook exclaims, holding you tenderly. “Worry not, I will be your steadfast support, slime or not.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel is confused when you start to melt, but his protective instincts kick in fast.

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on there!” Epel says, panicking slightly as he tries to keep you together. “You don’t have to be all stressed out around me. Just breathe, alright?”

His attempts to soothe you are clumsy but genuine, and he won’t leave your side until you’re back to your usual self.

Idia Shroud:

Idia’s first instinct is to panic. You’re melting? This is definitely not something he can handle without freaking out.

“Oh no… oh no… this is bad,” he mutters, but when he sees your tears, he stops. “Uh, hey, don’t cry! I mean, sure, you’re all gooey, but… you’re still cool.”

Idia awkwardly pats your head, unsure of how to handle the situation but doing his best to comfort you.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho doesn’t panic like his brother. Instead, he’s immediately analyzing the situation with his scanners.

“Are you alright?” Ortho asks, his voice full of genuine concern. “Don’t worry, I can help you! Maybe a temperature adjustment will help stabilize your form?” He hovers near, ready to assist however he can.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus finds your slime form fascinating, though he’s more concerned about your well-being. When you melt into his arms, he cradles you gently.

“There, there, child of man,” Malleus murmurs softly, his voice like a calm lullaby. His powerful arms hold you securely as your slime tears drip onto his cloak. “You need not fret. I will ensure your safety, no matter your form.”

His dragon-like gaze watches you intently, the smallest smile forming at the corners of his lips as your sobs quiet. "Even in your most... fluid state, you are still precious to me."

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds your slime form to be amusing, but he’s quick to adapt. When you start melting in his arms, he lets out a cheerful laugh.

“Ah, how adorable! Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve seen stranger things in my time.” He pats your head reassuringly, not fazed at all by the situation. “Cry all you need to. I’ll be here when you’re ready to solidify again.”

Lilia hums an old fae lullaby while he holds you, and his mischievous side takes a backseat as he comforts you through the tears.

Silver:

Silver blinks slowly when you start to melt in front of him, but instead of panicking, he gently wraps his arms around your slumping form, not minding the slime at all.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady and calm, “it’s okay. I’m here.” His hand moves to stroke your slime-morphed head with gentle care, his touch soothing despite your current state.

“I don’t know exactly how to help,” he admits, “but I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” He pulls you closer, letting you rest in his lap while he hums softly, his presence grounding you. “You don’t have to hold it all in. I’ll keep watch.”

His quiet, reassuring demeanor slowly makes you feel more at ease. He may not say much, but the safety you feel with him speaks volumes.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is utterly baffled when you start to melt into slime in his arms. For a moment, he just freezes, wide-eyed, trying to process what’s happening. Then he bursts out, “WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE YOUNG MASTER—!!”

His voice is loud, but as he sees the tears in your slimy state, his tone shifts—just a little. “H-Human! Cease this display at once! You cannot fall apart like this!” But even as he says that, he’s awkwardly attempting to gather your melted form without dropping any of it, his hands trembling slightly.

His frustration shows, but underneath it, he’s worried. “I—! Ugh, fine! Stay like this if you must! Just know I... I shall remain by your side, no matter what form you take! So, compose yourself, human!”

His stubborn loyalty shines through, and despite the bluster, you can tell he’s genuinely concerned. It’s a chaotic kind of support, but it’s Sebek, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo is startled and somewhat appalled by your sudden transformation into slime, but he masks his discomfort with a dignified air.

"This... is highly irregular," he mutters, though his hands remain gentle as they hold you. "But I suppose even someone like you has their moments of weakness."

Despite his words, there's a hint of warmth in his actions, and he stays by your side until you're feeling better, his cold demeanor melting just a bit.

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige’s reaction is pure concern when you start to melt. He immediately wraps his arms around you, holding you close despite the slime.

“Oh no, are you okay?” Neige asks, worry etched across his face. “Don’t cry, please! You’re still beautiful, no matter what!”

His words are sincere, and he strokes your back soothingly as you sob, not caring one bit about the slime soaking into his clothes.

Najma Viper:

Najma is quick to comfort you when you start melting in her presence. She’s a bit surprised but reacts with ease.

“Whoa, that’s a neat trick! But hey, no need to cry, okay?” Najma smiles gently, holding you close. “You’re safe with me. We’ll figure this out.”

She’s calm and reassuring, her warmth helping you regain your composure faster than you thought possible.

Dire Crowley:

Crowley dramatically flails his arms when you start melting into slime, completely unprepared for this turn of events.

“Oh dear heavens, my precious student! What calamity has befallen you?” He panics, trying to scoop up your gooey form in a very uncoordinated manner. “No need to cry! Your benevolent headmaster will, um, fix this! Somehow!”

He’s more focused on not getting slime on his fancy coat than actually helping, but he makes a grand show of being concerned, which is as close to comfort as you’re going to get from him.

Divus Crewel:

Crewel’s eyes widen, but he quickly regains his composure.

“Well, this is... unexpected,” he says, eyeing the slime dripping onto his pristine coat. “But emotions, pup, are not something to be ashamed of. Even if they do involve... melting.”

He carefully wipes the slime from his hands, his tone softening. “You’ll pull yourself together soon. We’ll make sure of it. And once you do, we’ll work on controlling that stress—there’s no excuse for letting your emotions ruin your wardrobe.”

He pats your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, his usual sternness fading in the face of your distress.

Mozus Trein:

Trein, with Lucius perched on his shoulder, looks down at you as you begin to melt into a puddle of slime.

“Hmm,” he muses thoughtfully. “This is not something you see every day, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

He crouches down, his expression surprisingly calm. “When one is overwhelmed, their emotions can manifest in unusual ways. It’s important to take a moment and breathe.” He offers a hand, which Lucius bats at. “Compose yourself. You’ll recover, just as we all do from difficult moments.”

It’s unexpectedly wise advice, and his steady presence helps you feel grounded again.

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas is completely caught off guard by your sudden transformation into slime. He stares at you in disbelief before quickly scooping you up with a burst of energy.

“Whoa! That’s some serious stress! But don’t worry, we’ll get you back into shape in no time!” he says, flexing a bicep as if that will somehow solve your problems.

He awkwardly pats your gooey form, his optimism unshaken. “This just means you’ve got some inner strength waiting to burst out! Once you pull yourself together, we’re doing a killer workout to blow off all that steam, okay?”

It’s hard to stay upset with his over-the-top enthusiasm, even in your slime state.

Sam:

Sam chuckles when you start melting, entirely unfazed.

“Well, now, ain’t that something,” he says, leaning on the counter of his shop. “You must be feelin’ all sorts of stress, huh? No worries, I’ve seen worse.”

He grabs a cloth and gently wipes your slime tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll brew up something that’ll help you feel right as rain? Stress is just like a storm—it’ll pass, and you’ll be stronger for it.”

His easygoing nature and the comforting atmosphere of his shop start to calm you down almost immediately. It’s impossible not to feel better in his presence.

Masterlist

[nahoney22]

Hold Me For The First Time*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Echo X Female!Reader

word count: 4.3k

Prompts: none

When a late night chat in a shared bed leads to Echo discussing his insecurities, you can’t help but wonder if he could use his insecurities to his advantage.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. self indulgent fic. Explicit sexual content and lanaguage, share a bed trope, Inappropriate use of a scomp link, p in v sex, friends to lovers, squirting, oral sex (reader receiving) scomp used as a vibrator, cum eating, finger sucking, multiple positions ie riding and missionary, creampie, pillow talk, aftercare, dirty talk. Light angst, insecure Echo.

🌊 Please Reblog to support your fellow writers and creators. A like is not enough 🌊

“Well, they didn’t mention there’d be only one bed.” You huffed, collapsing against the doorframe after trudging up ten flights of stairs, fully equipped with your armor and supplies. The elevator was out of order—of course. The day had already been grueling enough, and the sight of this rundown hotel was a small miracle in itself.

You and the squad had scraped together what few credits you had, which meant sharing rooms. You didn’t really mind sharing a room—especially with someone you knew didn’t snore too loudly. But you hadn’t quite expected the sleeping arrangements to be so...cozy.

“I’ll take the floor, don’t worry.” Echo’s voice broke through your thoughts as he set his bag and helmet down on the dresser, turning to face you. He noticed your slight frown and tilted his head.

“Echo, no.” You shook your head firmly, letting your own gear clatter to the floor. You crossed to the bed and flopped onto it, sighing with relief as the surprisingly soft mattress crinkled under the weight of your armor. “There’s enough room for at least three people. We’ll share.”

Echo seemed taken aback, his expression shifting as if he was searching for the right words to protest. You couldn’t help but grin. “What?” you teased, eyes gleaming. “Do I smell terrible or something?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just... I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all.”

“We’re friends, Echo. It’s fine.” You tucked your arms under your head, relaxing into the mattress. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

But Echo’s concern wasn’t really about your comfort in sharing a bed; it was about his cybernetics. He worried about accidentally jabbing you with one of his mechanical limbs in the middle of the night. He kept those thoughts to himself, though, letting the room fall into a companionable silence.

After a moment, you sat up and stretched. “I’m going to take a shower before bed,” you announced. “Who knows when we’ll get hot water again.”

The small bathroom was stocked with tiny bottles of body wash, and you made the most of them. Stepping under the warm spray, you lathered up, savoring the rare luxury. You let the water run through your hair and down your back, briefly closing your eyes as the stress and exhaustion of the day washed away. For a moment, you considered sitting right down on the tile and letting the water pour over you until you forgot about the relentless grind of finding work and scraping by. But you knew better than to waste the water—or the time.

Reluctantly, you shut off the shower and dried yourself off. Pulling on a pair of shorts and an oversized training shirt (which was more than likely Echo’s given the size) that you had stolen as a nightshirt months back. You ran a towel through your damp hair and stepped back into the room. Echo was still by the window, staring out with an expression that suggested his mind was miles away.

“Everything alright?” you asked softly, padding over to him. He blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts had taken him so far away.

“Yeah, just... thinking,” he replied, his voice just as soft.

You gave him a small smile and squeezed his arm lightly. “You can think all you want, but get some rest too, okay?”

He returned your smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You too.”

With that, you both settled into bed, the quiet hum of the city outside lulling you into a sense of peace. It didn’t take long for sleep to pull you under.

Echo eventually joined you in bed, lying stiffly on his side as if unsure how to relax. Despite the unfamiliar softness of the mattress, you quickly drifted off. But the comfort was almost too much—after spending so long sleeping on hard ground or cold ship floors, it was strange to sleep somewhere so cozy.

About two hours later, you stirred awake, blinking in the dim light filtering through the window. You noticed a faint glow from the corner of your eye and turned over, slightly frowning when you saw Echo still awake, his face lit by the pale light of a datapad.

You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him. But your mouth was dry, so you carefully slipped out of bed to grab a glass of water. When you returned and snuggled back under the covers, sleep was elusive. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, you quietly asked, “Echo… you still awake?”

He shifted slightly and rolled onto his back, his eyes catching yours. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Can’t sleep either.”

You smile and switched on your bedside light, casting a small but warm glow over you and half of Echo

“What are you looking at?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you lay comfortably on your side and look up to him..

He was silent for a moment, as if debating whether to tell you. “Rex sent me some old holopics; from back when I was with the 501st.”

You propped yourself up on one elbow. “Can I see them?”

He hesitated, but then passed you the datapad. You looked down at an image showing Rex, Cody, Fives, and Echo—back when Echo was…himself. But different. His features were softer, a thick head of hair, his expression more carefree, with no trace of the weight he now carried.

“You look so…” you began, but you struggled to find the right word.

“Normal,” Echo finished flatly, his tone laced with bitterness. You winced at the irritation in his voice, though you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

“No, I wasn’t going to say that,” you said gently as you handed him back the device. “You look fine.”

He sighed, eyes dropping to the scomp link on his arm. “I don’t feel fine. It’s stupid, but I used to imagine life after the war. Maybe I’d find a wife, maybe even have a family.” He shook his head, his voice tinged with regret. “But that feels impossible now.”

“Why?” you asked softly as you looked up at him, though you already knew the answer. His gaze dropped to the scomp link again, the metal gleaming faintly in the low light.

“This,” he said simply, gesturing to his cybernetics. “Who would want someone like me?”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Echo, I think you’re handsome,” you say earnestly. When he scoffed in disbelief, you pressed on. “I’m being serious. You’ve been through so much, and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s strength, and it’s something anyone would admire. Besides,” you added with a small smile, “I always feel calm and safe around you. That’s rare.”

Echo looked at you, the skepticism in his eyes giving way to something softer, more uncertain. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” you assured him, your voice steady. “You’re more than just what’s happened to you. And one day, you’ll find someone else who sees that, too.”

Echo’s gaze softened, but there was still a shadow lingering in his eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

You nod for him to continue.

“I miss… being able to hold someone,” he confessed quietly. “To just feel close to someone like that.”

The ache you felt for him was real, but a memory stirred in your mind. “You’ve held me before,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

You chuckled, recalling a specific mission. “Remember that op where I got hit hard? You carried me all the way back to the ship. I was out cold, but I woke up in your arms.”

A short laugh escaped him as he shook his head. “I guess that does count… in a way. But it’s not really the same thing.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the distant hum of the city filtering through the window. Yet, his earlier vulnerability lingered in your mind, tempting your curiosity. Before you could second-guess yourself, you blurted out a question that had been simmering at the edges of your thoughts.

“So… have you ever used your scomp… like that?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to clarify. “You know… for, um, pleasuring someone?”

Echo shifted beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly. You quickly reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and offered it to him. “Water?” you asked, trying to play off your embarrassment.

He shook his head, giving a soft, disbelieving chuckle. “No, thanks,” he murmured, but then his expression grew more serious. “And no, I haven’t. The opportunity hasn’t really come up.”

The idea intrigued you, and you couldn’t help the curiosity bubbling up. “Could you… show me what it feels like?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “On my arm, I mean.”

Echo watched you carefully, his gaze searching your face for any sign of hesitation. When he didn’t see any, he slowly raised his scomp and gently placed it against your forearm. At your nod, he activated it, letting the subtle vibrations pulse against your skin.

You gasped softly at the sensation—not painful at all, just ticklish and almost soothing. “See?” you said with a smile. “That’s not bad at all. Any lady would be lucky.”

Echo’s gaze remained fixed on you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. But the playful teasing between you shifted into somewhat deeper. A moment of soft silence lingered, charged with something new. The warmth in the room took on a different tone as you looked into each other’s eyes, both of you aware of the tension hanging in the air.

Your thoughts strayed, and you felt your body respond in a way that left you breathless. Your voice was small, almost hesitant. “You could try it out on my thighs too. If you want.”

Echo’s eyes darkened slightly as he considered your suggestion, his jaw clenching as he weighed the idea. He finally nodded and he waited for you to roll onto your back, his gaze never leaving yours as he reached out again, his scomp moving under the shared duvet and hovering just above your leg.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I think so.”

The moment the vibrations touched your skin, a shiver ran through you. The sensation was smooth, surprisingly gentle, and far more electrifying than you’d imagined. Your breathing hitched, and despite your best efforts, a quiet moan slipped past your lips. Your eyes closing and head leaning back comfortably on your pillow. “That feels nice.” You gasp.

Echo’s gaze grew more intense as he watched you react, his own expression shifting as he absorbed the effect his touch had on you. The air between you grew thicker, the boundary between curiosity and desire blurring.

You swallowed, your voice unsteady as you whispered, “Echo, if you want… you could please me, you know? I’d like that.” The words came out before you could overthink them.

Echo’s eyes darkened further, a new tension in the set of his shoulders. Slowly, he nodded, his voice a low rasp. “If that’s what you want…” His gaze flicked down, watching as you slid down your shorts beneath the covers, your legs parting slightly.

He moved closer, the mattress dipping as his focus remained entirely on you. He watched every subtle shift in your expression, his own breath growing heavier as he prepared to explore this moment with you. Whatever it was.

Echo’s hand hovered above your thigh, his scomp poised just inches from your skin. When he finally lowered it, the vibrations moved between your folds with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The sensation was like nothing you’d ever felt before—gentle but intense, the subtle pulses sending waves of warmth through your core. “That’s.. oh - fuck.” You moan, eyes intense as you lock eyes with him.

“Do you like that, beautiful?” He cooed, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you react to the compliment.

“S’good,” you whine, toes curling as his scomp presses down and vibrates against your swelling clit. Every time he adjusted the pressure, your breath hitched, the tingling pleasure building as his scomp dipped lower, gliding along your slickness.

Your body responded instinctively, hips rising to meet the movement as the blanket tangled around your legs. In the haze of growing desire, you grabbed the fabric and threw it aside, exposing yourself fully to him. The cool air brushed against your heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the thrill of letting Echo see exactly what he was doing to you.

His eyes blown wide, gaze dropping to the glistening sight between your legs. A low, needy sound escaped him, a mix between a groan and a sigh. “You have such a pretty pussy,” he rasped, his voice rough with barely contained lust as he licked his lips. The simple, honest words made you clench, a wave of need rolling through you that had your head spinning.

The vibrations increased, pressing directly against your sensitive clit, and you cried out, your voice breaking into a moan. “Oh, Echo—I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, the pressure building to a dizzying peak. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the relentless rhythm of his scomp pushing you closer and closer to that edge. You grabbed harshly on his arm, holding his scomp exactly where it needed to be. “Baby, d-don’t stop.”

Echo’s gaze stayed locked on your swollen, slick flesh, his breath coming in rough pants as he watched you writhe beneath him. “Let me feel it,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let me see you cum for me.”

The moment his words hit you, everything snapped. Your body arched off the bed, back curving as the pleasure surged through you in powerful waves. You cried out his name, trembling as the release tore through you, the sensation almost too much as his scomp kept pulsing against your now overstimulated clit.

He held you there, watching every twitch, every aftershock that rippled through your body. His eyes were wild, dark with hunger as he savoured the way you came undone beneath him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost as if to himself, as if he couldn’t believe how perfect you looked falling apart for him.

When the vibrations finally eased and you could catch your breath, you met his gaze, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. “That was pretty damn good.” You gasp breathlessly, legs still twitching every so often.

“And you looked it, too,” he rasps and you realise how close he was to you now, his face a few inches from yours. You didn’t want this to end.

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you take his scomp in your hand, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. Slowly, you bring the metal to your mouth, letting your tongue glide over it, tasting your own slick. The mixture of your warmth and the cool metal sends a shiver down your spine. Echo watches in stunned silence, his eyes fixed on the sight of you licking yourself off his scomp. His breath catches as he murmurs your name, almost reverent, “You don’t realise how much I wish I could feel that…”

You tilt your head, grinning mischievously. “You have another hand, don’t you?” you tease, your voice light. His eyes widen slightly at the suggestion, and after a moment of hesitation, he nods, waiting for you to give the go-ahead. You answer him with a small, encouraging smile.

His fingers are careful as they slide over your folds, still tender and sensitive from your climax. He moves gently, massaging with a touch that’s reverent and exploratory, collecting your slick on his fingers. You gasp at the contact, the mixture of pleasure and overstimulation sending jolts through you.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his fingers to your lips, offering them to you. You eagerly take them into your mouth, sucking on them with a slow, deliberate rhythm, savouring the taste of yourself while his eyes darken even more.

But you want to return the favour—want to see him fall apart just as he did for you. As you release his fingers with a soft pop, you notice his hand shifting to palm himself through his pants. There’s a tension in his jaw, a hesitation, as if he’s too shy to ask for what he needs. You decide to take the lead.

“Echo,” you said softly, brushing a hand over his cheek. “Before we do this… can I see you?”

He blinked, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. You could see the doubt creeping in, his usual guardedness returning. His gaze dropped as he began to mumble, “I’m not exactly—my legs, my body… I know it’s not what—”

You cut him off, gently taking his face in your hands. “No. You’re beautiful, Echo,” you insisted, your tone firm but tender. “Every part of you.”

The sincerity in your voice made his breath hitch, and after a beat, he nodded, his eyes meeting yours.

You helped him slide out of the rest of his clothes, taking in the sight of him fully bare to you. The scars, the cybernetics—everything that made him who he was. And as you gazed at him, there was no judgment, no hesitation. “You’re perfect,” you whispered, letting the words sink in as you ran your hands over his chest, tracing every line and curve. His heart hammered in his chest, and you could see the way his eyes softened, that lingering insecurity slowly melting away.

Quietly, you shift onto your knees and slowly peel off your top, letting it fall away as your breasts bounce free. His eyes widen, unable to hide the awe in his expression. “Woah,” he breathes out, his voice tinged with disbelief, as though he can’t quite process what’s happening. Your cheeks heat up as your hand caresses over his erection, thick and hard, the sight of him making your mouth water.

“Do you want me, Echo?”

He swallows hard, eyes locked on yours. “More than anything,” he rasps, voice thick with need. You position yourself over him, guiding the head of his cock between your folds, letting him feel the heat and wetness before you take him in.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you lower yourself onto him, feeling him stretch you wide open as you sink down onto his length. A moan slips from your lips at the sensation, the delicious stretch of him filling you completely. His grip on your waist tightens as he groans deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest.

The feeling of him buried deep inside you is overwhelming, almost intoxicating. The heat between you builds, your bodies starting to find a rhythm that leaves you both breathless.

Every thrust, every slide, is filled with a raw, desperate need, as if neither of you can get enough. Echo’s hand roams over your body, his touch reverent and hungry all at once, while you take him deeper with each roll of your hips. The way he looks at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—was enough to almost make yoh tumble into another quick orgasm. “Fuck,” you whisper, feeling the tension build again. “You feel so good inside me, Echo.”

He groans in response, his grip tightening as he thrusts up into you, desperate to keep that connection, to prolong the pleasure that’s surging through both of you. “Yes baby, that’s it. You're riding me so good. Take me.”

With a sudden burst of intensity, Echo flips you onto your back, his eyes wild with desire. He climbs on top of you, pressing the length of his body against yours, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. “Hold me,” you beg breathlessly, needing the closeness, the comfort of being wrapped in his arms as he takes you. But you see the panic flash in his eyes—he doesn’t know how, isn’t sure he can do it right.

Sensing his hesitation, you act on instinct, lifting yourself slightly and guiding his scomp beneath your back, the cool metal settling against your skin in a strange but oddly comforting embrace. “Like this,” you whisper, your voice full of reassurance as you take his free hand and hook it under your thigh, anchoring you in place.

With renewed confidence, he adjusts his grip, holding you steady as he begins to thrust into you with a deep, yet tender rhythm. Your forehead rests against his, your breaths ragged. You don’t think you’ve ever been made love to before, but you were pretty certain this is what it was like. In the midst of the frenzy, you both suddenly pause, realising that despite everything, you still haven’t kissed. The thought hangs in the air for a split second before your lips come together, the kiss charged with all the pent-up passion that had been building between you. At first it’s soft, tender before you whine for him to go faster when it becomes messy, almost frantic. Tongues tangling as you both lose yourselves in the moment.

The bed shakes beneath you, the frame creaking with each powerful stroke as he pounds into you. You can’t hold back—your voice cracks as you pant his name over and over, each plea more desperate and needy than the last. Your legs wrap tightly around him, urging him deeper, while the raw heat of his body and the delicious friction sends sparks through your every nerve.

When you pull back for air, his gaze is intense, admiration and hunger shining in his eyes. “You look so good like this,” he groans, his voice low and thick. “Do you want me to cum inside you, beautiful? Want me to stuff you full of my cum? I want to make sure you feel me inside you long after this.”

His words send you spiraling, your fingers digging into his back as you cling to him, desperate for more. The sound of his balls slapping against your slick, sweaty skin fills the room, every thrust harder and deeper than the last. The pressure builds rapidly, your body tightening around him as you feel yourself teetering on the edge.

“Echo—I’m gonna—” The words barely escape your lips before your release crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your back arches off the bed as you find yourself squirting all over him, the intensity of it leaving you trembling and gasping for breath. The slick warmth of your release covers his cock, dripping down his thighs as he continues to pound into you, chasing his own release.

His rhythm stutters, hips jerking as he reaches his peak. With a deep, guttural groan of your name, he buries himself inside you, filling you with his warmth as his cock throbs within your walls. You feel every pulse, every spurt of his cum, until he’s spent, panting heavily above you.

As he collapses into your arms, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all, there’s nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft, shared smiles that linger between you.

As the intensity of the moment faded, Echo’s hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you both tried to catch your breath. The warmth of his body pressed against yours brought a comforting stillness. He was still, resting his head on your chest, your hearts beating in sync as you gently stroked the back of his neck.

“You okay?” He asked softly, his voice tender and laced with a bit of concern as his thumb brushed along your knuckles.

You smiled, nodding as you looked down at him. “More than okay,” you whispered. “That was amazing.”

A shy grin tugged at his lips, a little bit of that old insecurity trying to creep in. “I never thought—I mean, I didn’t know I could make you feel that way,” he admitted quietly and you can’t help but feel your body warm up at the fact you had squirted, something that had never happened before.

“Yeah,” you giggle breathlessly, “it was definitely new to me too. But it was perfect.”

For a few minutes, neither of you spoke, just enjoying the peaceful silence that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. But you could feel the tension that still lingered in his muscles, the weight of everything he’d been carrying for so long.

“Hey,” you murmured, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hesitated, then finally opened up. “What if this doesn’t last? That I’ll wake up and realise it was all a dream. It feels too good to be real, you know?”

You shifted, cupping his face with both hands so he’d look directly into your eyes. “It’s real, Echo. I’m real. We’re real. And I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice steady, full of conviction.

The way he looked at you then, with those wide, hopeful eyes, made your heart swell. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for being patient with me. For seeing me.”

You leaned in and kissed him softly, letting the tenderness of the moment speak for itself. “I see you, Echo. Every part of you. And I want it all—the good, the complicated, the messy. I’m here for all of it.”

His eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. “You’re more than I ever thought I could have,” he whispered, his voice so low it was almost a breath. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You do. You deserve to be happy. To be loved. And I’m going to make sure you never forget that.”

The vulnerability in his gaze softened into something warmer, more secure. “I think I’m starting to believe you.”

A quiet laugh bubbled up between you as you settled back into the pillows, arms wrapped around each other in a comfortable tangle. The tension had fully melted away, leaving behind only the gentle, reassuring warmth of being with someone who truly understood.

“I’m so lucky I have you,” he murmured sleepily, his head nestling into the crook of your neck.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

🌊 Masterlist is pinned 🌊

🌊 Echo pic by @starqueensthings 🌊

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri i @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari i @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix x @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @lulalovez @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894

[veneerslipstick]

⋆.ೃwe’ll live forever࿔*:･

veneer x GN!reader

one shot

fluff

you are helping veneer get ready for his next show. you both have had crushes on each other since you were kids, and all you two wanted to do was confess your undying love for each other, and the only thing stopping you was velvets disapproval and judgment.

but, that doesn’t stop the tension between you two when you’re alone…

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“y/n, get in here.”

you hear Velvet speaking from the radio that was

attached to your chest, which helped the twins

communicate with you easily whenever they needed

you. currently, you were in your own “ office “ (not

really privileged to you, but it’s where you got your

work done ) getting contracts ready for Velvet and

Veneer to sign. you weren’t very sure either of them

were even going to sign, but you were just doing your

job. you fumbled your hands to hold the speak

button of the radio and stood up rapidly from your

chair.

“yes, Violet. on my way,”

you gathered your papers and tapped them upright

on the table a few times to make them even, then

you dashed out the door and to their dressing room.

you didn’t like to admit it, but every time that Violet

called you to their room, you couldn’t help but feel

excited to see her brother, Veneer. whenever she was

being uptight or just plain rude, Veneers little jokes or

just the sound of his voice made the room feel a lot

less tiny. you’re anxious quite a bit , and perhaps he

picked up on it, because even just a softened gaze

from him helps you ease up.

you were a little like him, in a way. both of you thrive

to find approval from those higher than you, and in

your case it was both of them and HR.

it didn’t really take much for Veneer to like you,

though.

you arrived to their door, and knocked gently but

hard enough to have them hear you. oftentimes you

were scared of knocking too loud, since Violet

doesn’t like to be interrupted by obnoxiously loud

sounds…that’s really the only thing you can relate to

her with.

the door opened, and you saw Veneer standing there

with a warming smile on his face, and his hair looking

a little…eccentric. gel clearly wasn’t put in the right

way, strands falling out, and it was tilted to the side?

the sight made you blush, and you couldn’t help but

smile back, gripping the papers a little more tightly in

your hands.

“hello, Ven-“

“Y/N!”

you and Veneer jolted from velvets snappy tone, and

the door was whipped all the way open, tearing it

away from Veneers grip.

you are greeted with a

moderately-infuriated Velvet who looked upset but

also stressed. she then grabbed Veneers wrist and

pulled him towards a dresser chair, forcing him down

and pointing at him, one hand on her hip.

“okay, i CANNOT get his hair to cooperate. or

ANYTHING!”

she exclaimed, throwing her hands in

the air as if she was trying to strangle her own brain.

she pointed to the closet and stomped her foot

down.

“i had to put crimp in there because even SHE couldn’t do it ! i- just-“

she was obviously stressed out, and you showed her

a small smile.

“i understand. here,” you handed her the papers. “if

you can just throw a few signatures on here, i’ll fix

him up for you. i used to do a bit of hair dressing in

university, i’m sure i’ll be able to do something.”

her gaze softened for a moment, like she was

relaxed, but it was instantly back to a stubborn look,

and she snatched the papers from you.

“fine.” she sneered, and grabbed a pen from the

vanity. “i’ll be back, i have to go see a couple of

snobby interviewers before the show.” she notified,

approaching and opening the door. her back towards

you, she stopped.

“..thank you.”

she slammed the door, you and Veneer jolting again.

it was silence for a moment, until you cleared your

throat. “okay, let me figure this out.” you start

grabbing scissors, gel, hairspray, a comb, and bobby

pins to prepare yourself. Veneer watches you as you

speak to yourself and collect your train of thought.

he stares a little longer than he should.

you then turn him around in the chair and step

closer, your chest almost pressed against the back of

him. you clench your jaw and are instantly flooded

with the scent of 100 toxins from his hair, which you

found sort of nice. you start to drag your fingers

through his crunchy hair, easily getting knots out so

you don’t hurt him.

“you didn’t have to do this,” he says quietly, watching

you in the mirror as you comb through his hair.

you smile at him without making eye contact.

“oh, i know. i want to. it’s fun.” you say in an almost

monotone voice since you were concentrating. he

doesn’t respond , only admires you. you start to work

your magic, pinning up chunks of hair and letting

some fall, costing your hands with gel and infesting

his nest with hairspray. it was time to move to the

front, but a strand you had in your hand had to

stretch to that direction.

you walk around Veneer, your arms basically

wrapped around him, and stand in front of him whilst

pinning up that strand of hair you had in your hand.

this position seemed to last a little longer than it

should have, as you were shaking from nervousness.

you held your breath , anxious that he would feel it on

him.

you back away for a second, looking at your progress

so far, and he looked up at you with his big beady

eyes , as if he was just waiting for you to do

something. you tried to shake off the tension, but it

didn’t help when you had to get up in his face to fix

the obnoxiously huge wave in hair.

and there you were, your hands all up in his hair, your

faces inches apart, and all you could think about was

if his green lipstick tasted like lime.

you were nearly done, you would be able to breathe

in 10 seconds, when you two locked eyes. you didn’t

notice how flushed in the face he was until now. his

lips were slightly parted, his eyes gleamed as he

searched your eyes.

he shifted in his seat, and you backed away, letting

out a shaky exhale.

“o-okay, your hair is done. i’ll re touch your makeup.”

you said nervously , picking up his stick of lipstick

that was next to his sisters. you leaned close to him

once more, held his chin like you would your

favourite book, and swiped his bottom lip very

carefully. then, he had jerked his head oh so slightly

to the side, causing a smudge. you just stood there

thinking ‘shit , i need to wipe that off,’.

if only that’s what you were really thinking.

before you could comprehend your next action, he

muttered your name in a whisper and reached his

head forward, pressing his stained lips to your tinted

ones. you dropped the stick of lipstick, your hand

still in the air , and let yourself melt into the feeling.

your heads simultaneously titled as a natural flow of

kissing started, and Veneers fingers danced on the

skin of your forearms. you could feel the energy

coming off of him, how he desired more passion of

your slow, sweet kisses, but he was already drunk off

of what you were giving him now.

then he stood, leaning you gently against the vanity,

putting one hand on the platform and the other

snaked around your waist to support you. you kept

yours on his shoulders, not wanting to mess up his

hair, but he couldn’t care less.

he wanted you.

pulling away from each other, you both caught your

breaths, your eyes still closed to capture what just

happened. you felt his right hand take yours, your

fingers intertwining as he left a trail of kisses down

your jaw and rested his forehead on the crook of your

neck, smiling against you.

“Veneer…” you whisper, nudging your shoulder to

make him lift his head. he hummed in response and

looked at you, a sly smile on his face. you felt

flustered , trying to turn your head away but he used

his cheek to guide your face back towards him,

giving you a soft kiss in return. you then feel alarmed

and pushed him back slightly.

“ shit ! you have to GO, Velvet is going to kill you,

fuck, your makeup isn’t done, i-“

Veneer cut you off with a finger to your lips, waiting

for you to be quiet before backing away, putting his

shoulder pads on.

“I don’t care , dear. it’s a look, some fan will love it.”

he winked at you and opened the door, turning his

head to look at you.

“doesn’t it tell them that i’m off limits anyway?” he

clearly teased and your mouth parted slightly in awe.

he chuckled, his eyes falling half open.

“meet me backstage after the show , y/n. maybe we

can ruin the lipstick a little more.”

you stood there in disbelief.

˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° . ˚ · • . ° .

i hope u guys enjoyed this, my writing isn’t terrific 😞 if u have any suggestions about making Veneers character more realistic or just ideas for more one shots pls lmk !!! p.s im open to doing all genders for Veneer , i just wanted to stay neutral for my first fic <33

[puckinghischier]

i come to you with a blurb thats been in my head because i desperately need it rn 😭

like,,, idk if its been said before BUT imagine nico helping you study!! youre taking your master's or maybe you're finishing up a long degree! regardless, he's ready to help you with your flashcards and notes and books and he gives you a lil smooch and a chocolate when you get one right! but he's very serious about it being just one kiss!! you have to study after all!! but.....maybeeee....sometimes...he'll add in another and another and another just because you look so cute when youre focused <3 and when he feels you getting tired or burnt out after it all, he obviously gives the best cuddles!

“baby, just one more question, and then you get 10 minutes of couch cuddles until we start the next unit,” nico would encourage you, knowing how frustrated and tired you’re becoming.

“nico i don’t want to do anymore tonight, we’ve been at it for three hours already. can’t we just called it quits after this last question?” you’d whine, ready to just drop out altogether, tired of spending every free moment you have doing homework.

he knows he shouldn’t have caved earlier, letting himself get too carried away when he decided to give you three kisses instead of one when you managed to get ten questions right in a row. the result was a thirty minute make out session that neither of you wanted to cut short, but he fought tooth and nail to get you back on track.

he mulls the thought over, knowing you’re getting antsy and ready to pack everything up for the night, but also knowing how much you’ve been stressing over this test and wanting to help you go into it as confident as you can.

“give me five more questions and we’ll call it a night, deal?” he tries to compromise with you, knowing you’ll complain all day tomorrow if you quit right now.

you roll your eyes and groan at him, throwing a silent fit with the look on your face.

“okay, five more questions then we put everything away and i’ll lay with you on the couch and rub your back while we watch dancing with the stars reruns,” he offers, using your current fixation show against you.

you perk up at the offer, always having to beg and plead for him to even watch one episode with you because ‘why would i want to watch a bunch of washed up celebrities do ballroom dances poorly?’

“deal,” you decide to agree to his terms, readying yourself for a night of cuddles and ripped men with no shirts on.

chuckling, nico picks your flash cards back up and goes through the next five questions with you, smiling proudly when you get all five right.

“eeek! okay, now hurry up and help me clean the couch off, we have a rumba to watch!!” you’d cheer, excited to finally relax with your study buddy.

once the materials are all out of sight and you’re pressed against nico on the couch, you find yourself drifting off to sleep sooner than you wanted, your brain tired after all of thinking you made it do.

“what if i wake up tomorrow and forget everything we just went over,” you mumble into nico’s chest, feeling the rumbles of laughter that erupt at your question.

“baby, i don’t think you’re gonna forget everything. you’ll remember why bruno only gave derek and his partner an 8 instead of a 10,” he jokes, upset that he’s actually managed to get partially invested in this show.

“maybe if they converted the material into judges speeches delivered by bruno tonioli, then i wouldn’t even have to study. the initial delivery would be enough to stick in my brain for forever,” you groggily replied, nuzzling your head further into nico’s chest.

he shook his head and rolled his eyes at you, even though you couldn’t see him because yours were already closed. he knows you’re the smartest person he’s ever met, and you’ll do fine on this test and all of the future ones you have to take.

but he won’t ever let you forget that he helped, claiming he should get his own form of rewards for doing half of the work with you.

[ragingbookdragon]

Someday We'll Be All That We Need

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: I made a new friend so I made that friend a fic. @temeyes <3 -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Other than the shivering, Simon doesn’t so much as twitch in the corner they’re huddled in. She’s cold herself, but nothing feels as terrifying as losing the man wedged in between her thighs, head resting against her chest. The bleeding has stopped though, the bullet wound plugged well enough that him exsanguinating is the least of her worries—it’s the ever-dropping temperature and the broken-down cabin that scares her.

It was thirty degrees Fahrenheit when the mission started; the last reading was ten and dropping. The cabin they’d taken shelter in was worn down, broken windows and missing ceiling allowing streams of frigid winter air and snow to fall in and continue to chill their bones. Simon had sealed his wound and managed to stay awake but with the blood loss he’d suffered and the stress, fatigue had set in, and that’s when she’d found herself curled up in the corner with the emergency blanket from her kit wrapped around his torso, his body wedged up against hers, trying to conserve energy and heat.

The comms had gone down, Simon’s radio busted in a skirmish of hand to hand with an enemy, and she had only managed to get one SOS out before the line cut off. They were alone in the middle of enemy territory, in a temperature-dropping environment, wounded and unable to call for help. Her worst fears were coming alive.

She swallowed thickly, shaking the thoughts away, and readjusted her grip on Simon, jostling him awake in the process. “Alrigh’, love?” he murmured lowly, tongue lazy and slow; he only called her love when they were alone and serious.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “You?”

“Back’s killin’ me.”

She huffed a laugh. “I bet it is. You’re folded like a pretzel.”

Simon shifted, or tried to, and rested his head on her shoulder. “How long’s it been since I feel asleep?”

“Maybe an hour?” she blinked, looking around the room; snow was beginning to pile up where the holes in the ceiling dropped to the floor. “I haven’t really been paying attention to the time.”

“Hmm.” He breathed into her neck. “I can’t feel my toes.”

Her eyes shifted to his feet, and she let out a breath, a mixture of shock and fear. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” he admitted. “‘s bad, love. Spreading up.”

“Motherfucker,” she laughed in disbelief and wrapped her arms tighter around him. “Price heard the SOS. He’s coming, okay? Just…just keep it together until then.”

Simon swallowed thickly; his eyes still shut as he nudged her neck with his mask-covered nose. “Got a safety deposit box back in Manchester,” he muttered. “Key’s in my nightstand back at base.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Got ‘bout five-hundred thousand pounds in’it.” He shifted again as if trying to get into her skin to be warmer. “Deed to a property in Herefordshire. Got it a few years ago when I was staying with Price.”

“Simon, stop,” she warned—she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Want you to get out and go live there. You’ve served long enough to get pension. You’ll be set for the rest of your life out there.”

“No. Not without you I won’t.”

He shook his head. “I don’ think I’m comin’ back, love. Not this time.”

“Don’t say that,” she stressed, turning her face to his. “They’re coming. We’ll be okay.”

Simon didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Want you to buy one of those big black Corso’s. Name her Morrigan. Let her take care of you and the land.”

Tears began to gather in her eyes. “You’re a bastard,” she whispered. “Quit it.”

“I want you to listen. I want you to be taken care of. I want—”

“I want you alive,” she cut off. “Now shut up and save some energy.”

Simon cracked an eye open and simply gazed at her. “I love you. I know I didn’ say it enough. ‘m sorry, love.”

She clenched her jaw against the wave eating her chest inside out and inhaled deeply. “Simon, stop and rest. I won’t say it again.”

He let his eyes close and laid his head back down. “Alright, love.”

***

It was at least another two hours before noise echoed outside, and it drew her from a slumber she hadn’t realized she was in; she jolted up, Simon jostling with her. “Simon,” she whispered. “Someone’s outside.” He didn’t respond to her, and she pulled away, looking at him. “Simon?” he was asleep, unresponsive to any of the stimuli around him. “Fuck, Simon?” the noise outside grew louder, and she pushed past her fear and shifted from under him, tucking him against the wall as she grabbed her gun and rose to her feet.

Kneeling down, she put a hand against his face. “I’ll be back, okay? I promise.” She swallowed. “I’m coming right back, Simon.”

She rose again and headed for the door, cracking it open and slipping outside as a vehicle pulled up; tucking behind the railing, she breathed deeply and lifted her head, catching sight of a few men exiting.

Before she could even raise her weapon, she heard, “Contact!”

Ducking again, she cocked her rifle and listened as the others did the same, obviously hiding behind shelter themselves. It had to be the rest of that enemy squad that she failed to take out when Simon got injured. Fuck, she only had one mag left and she was running on fumes herself. She had to be quick. She had to be careful. She had—

“Identify yourself, or we will shoot!”

Wait, that sounded like—

“I will not say it again! Identify yourself or—”

“Price!” she called and peeked over the railing. “Price, it’s me! It’s me!”

Soap and Gaz appeared on the other side of the SUV. “Athena?”

She felt tears gather in her eyes as she stood up and lowered her gun. “Holy shit, I’ve never been so glad to see you guys.”

Price stopped in front of her, pulling her into a quick hug. “Good to see you. Where’s Simon?”

Simon.

Her heart dropped. “Fuck.” She turned on her heel and sprinted back into the cabin and to the corner, the men on her heels; she got to him first and dropped to her knees, shaking him. “Simon! Simon, wake up!”

He didn’t move.

“Simon!” she called again, lifting her cold fingers to his neck. Whether it was her own anxiety or him, she couldn’t feel a thing and she started panicking. “I can’t get a pulse!” she turned to them. “I can’t wake him up!”

Soap pulled her back as Price and Gaz got to work and she thrashed in his arms. “LET GO!”

“Lass, calm down!”

“LET GO! SIMON!” she screamed, her own vision beginning to haze, exhaustion weighing taking its toll.

“We’ve gotta start compressions,” she heard Gaz say and he looked at Price. “He’s not going to make it back if we don’t do something now.”

Price looked back. “Soap, get her in the SUV, we’ll prep Simon for transport.”

“Aye, sir,” Soap said and hefted her up against her thrashing.

“NO! I’M NOT LEAVING HIM BEHIND! LET GO OF ME GODDAMNIT!”

“Lass, you can’t help him even if you wanted to.”

Her body felt like lead and she felt her limbs going numb as her breathing kicked into a wildness, head light and heavy all at the same time. She kept trying to get out of his arms when Price tossed a syringe his way, and a prick to her arm drew blackness into all sides of her gaze, the last thing she saw was Gaz yanking open Simon’s gear to press his hands to his chest.

***

There was an impossibly annoying beeping going off on the side of Simon’s bed and she had half a mind to kick him in his hip and gripe at him to turn it off; she managed to mumble something akin to it but when the beeping didn’t stop, she managed with great effort to crack her eyes open, only to be met with the sterile walls of a medical room.

It all came back in an instant and she sat up straight, yanking the IV out of arm, the oxygen tube from her nose, rolling from the bed. Her knees kissed the floor and pain seared up her legs as she scrambled for the door, only to fall again, but she crawled on her hands and knees to the handle. Lifting herself, she pulled the door open and leaned heavily on the wall of the hallway as she stumbled down, looking in every room for her lover.

“Simon!” she called weakly; the mission had taken its toll on her. She was weak, far beyond her own capacity and she was barely standing as it was. “Simon!” she yelled again, and Soap stuck his head out from a door about five doors down.

“Athena? Holy shite, you shouldn’t be up!” he made it to her, trying to help her, but she pushed past him.

“Where’s Simon?”

“Love, you need to go back to—”

“WHERE IS HE!”

Soap recoiled and recovered, gently wrapping his arm around her. “He’s down here. Still asleep.” His grip was steel. “I’ll take you to him.”

“I can—”

“You either let me help or I take you back to your room.”

She fell silent and let him, that was until she turned the corner of Simon’s room, and darted from his arms, barely managing to avoid face-planting into the hospital bed railing as she clambered onto the bed with the man.

“Simon?” she whispered, grabbing his face in her hands; he was so warm now. Tears seeped down her cheeks. “Simon, sweetheart?” she said again, pressing her head to his chest to feel his steady heartbeat thumping beneath; a choked sound of happiness escaped her, and she looked at Soap. “He’s alive.”

He smiled at her. “Yeah, love, he’s alive.”

“He’s okay?”

“Eh, we’re a little worried about his toes, but so far yeah.”

She buried her face in Simon’s chest, crying into the gown he wore, and grabbed one of his hands; she squeezed it tightly, relief flooding her as his fingers tightened around hers in his sleep.

[brittle-doughie]

Return to Sender (Strawberry Stick and Mint Wafer Cookie

“And that’s a wrap! Great session today, you all! We really sounded like we went all out there!”

“Your drumsticks would’ve gotten broken if we did, please be careful this time.”

“I can’t help myself when we got our vocalist here singing their heart out! It makes me want to match their energy!”

Hearing Strawberry Stick call out your singing only made you embarrassed, letting the compliment get to you.

“Strawberry Stick Cookie is right, hearing you actually sing only wanted me to play better.”

“See? What did I tell you? With Y/N Cookie as our vocalist, we just need that guitarist and we’ll be all set!”

You agreed as you inspected the time, it was your cue to leave for the day.

“Aw, just when it was started to get really good…”

“We can continue tomorrow, Strawberry Stick Cookie. They’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re right, right! Okay, we can pick up where we left off! See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you tomorrow too, Y/N.”

You gave your goodbye to the two as you headed home, making sure to take note of your mailbox.

Ever since videos of you and the band practicing together had been posted online on CookieTube, you’ve been getting an early stage of fan mail from cookies in the town or even from around Earthbread.

Even some well known figures in the music industry were rumored to have seen the videos too, but the shyness you had meant you never did look it up, not having the heart to see if it was true.

You were just content to being a vocalist for the band, no more no less…

You open the mailbox to see…nothing inside. Surprisingly!

This was a first, there would usually be at least one or two letters in the mailbox ever since the videos started going around. This was fine actually, just meant less stress on your part as you headed inside.

———————————————————————

“Did you grab them all..?”

“Yep, made sure not a single one was left out, even the harmless ones!”

Mint Wafer opens his drawer and pulls out a stack of letters from within.

“Good. I think the videos have gotten TOO popular, Mint Wafer Cookie, because now there’s cookies all around town that are trying mob MY vocalist. In person and through mail.”

“Don’t be greedy now, Strawberry Stick Cookie. You forget that I like our vocalist too~ Can you really blame other cookies if they like Y/N too?”

“Whatever, we need to shred these letters. I want no trace of them at all. Y/N will not be seeing this and any future letters, not when they have us.”

“Hmm, oh! We got lucky with getting this stack, there’s a letter that’s all glittery…”

Strawberry Stick Cookie needed only a glance at it before she sharply inhaled.

“Very lucky. This will go first..”

Strawberry Stick Cookie leaves with the letter, with the intention of disposing it herself….

———————————————————————

“Hello, Y/N Cookie. I’m hoping this letter reaches you because I wanted to say that I’ve become a viewer of the CookieTube videos and I became quite a fan!

The way you sing to the music with that voice of yours, you make a great vocalist! I’m quite the singer myself and I can say that you’re fitting to be one of the best I’ve seen!

Which is why I’m wondering if you’d like to meet by any chance? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it would mean a lot to me if you do decide to. I’d really like to hear you sing in person! Maybe even sing along together too!

Yours truly, Shining Glitter Cookie!”

[lesbojournals]

🍳: could you do a poly!maraduers x reader when they suddenly just collapse? Fluff ending, please! And fem or non binary is ur choice!

Poly!Marauders x Reader (who collapses)

a/n: i hope that this is what you were looking for !

You were fine one second. You swore you were. It was just that you were standing, one second, and then the world got dizzy, your world got blurry and splotchy, and when you opened your eyes all you could see was sky.

Well, sky and the faces of your boyfriends Sirius, James, and Remus. 

“What-” You moaned, going to get up before some hands pushed you down. 

“Shh, stay down baby.” Remus shushed.

Within seconds there were EMTs by your side, slowly guiding you up. They brought you inside the ambulance, and strongly advised your boyfriends to wait outside. They ran multiple tests on you, and eventually came to the conclusion you were dehydrated. 

It was up to you whether or not you wanted to go to the hospital technically, and you didn’t want to go, but your boyfriends insisted on it the second the EMT came out of the ambulance with you.

“Just ride with them there love, we’re right behind you. We’ll see you in the hospital.” Sirius promised, holding your hands tight.

You begrudgingly agreed, for the sake of the sanity of your boyfriends. 

When you got to the hospital, Sirius was right, they were right behind you. They must’ve blown a few red lights in order to get to the hospital at the same speed as the ambulance. You’d be sure to chastise them for that later. 

You didn’t officially reunite with one of them until you were admitted into the Emergency Room and in your assigned bed. It was Sirius who came running to your side, immediately grabbing your hand.

“Oh Dolly,” He cooed. “Are you feeling alright?”

You nodded, and squeezed his hand for reassurance. “Where are James and Remus?”

Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes, expressive as always. “They wouldn’t let us all through. Only one visitor per patient.”

And one visitor a patient it stayed. You were with Sirius, mindlessly chatting for about an hour when he got up. 

“Okay my love,” he started. “It’s my time to leave. Remus or James will be out in just a minute, alright? We all played rock, paper, scissors last time to determine who could come first, so I assume they’re playing it again now as we speak to figure out who’s coming next.”

You reluctantly let go of Sirius’s hand. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“And shoot.” He completed, teasing you. “I love you darling.”

Next it was Remus who visited you, and you already knew that James was likely moping in Sirius’ arms while they sat in the waiting room. 

Remus rushed to your side and held your face in his hands, gently pushing back your hair. He made sure your IV wasn’t bothering you (like the darling he is) and called a nurse over to get you some ice chips.

“You really scared us there, dovey.” He gave you a worried smile. 

You gave him a sheepish expression back. “Sorry.”

You spent your time with Remus in mostly silence, as he encouraged you to shut your eyes and rest up. He timidly massaged your head and played with your hair as you rested, and you were so relaxed you actually did fall asleep.

You didn’t notice when Remus left, but you did notice when James arrived.

“Oh my love!” He yelled, and practically flung himself at you in your bed.

You let out an “Oof!”.

That shot him right out of holding you, looking at you with stress in his eyes. “Did I hurt you love? I’m sorry, are you alright?”

You shook your head negatively. “No, no, Jamie. Just surprised me is all.”

“Oh, good.” He smiled, then shook his head. “No, not good! I just-you know what I mean. I’m sorry baby-”

You interrupted his frantic nature. “James, it’s alright. You can relax, have a seat. I’m okay.”

Instead of sitting in the chair next to your bed that Sirius and Remus had occupied, James opted to sit at the edge of your bed, holding your hand and bringing it up to his face to kiss.

“Just worried.” He admitted. “Gave us quite a fright.”

“Rem told me.” You replied. “I’m okay now though, honey. They’ve got me hooked up to some fluids so I should be out in no time.”

You spent your time with James getting chastised for not taking better care of yourself, as well as just listening to his general anxiety about you collapsing.

He continued his ramblings as you were discharged, and it took Remus with a gentle “James, love, it’s alright.” to calm him down officially. You leaned on Sirius in the backseat as Remus drove and James rode shotgun.

Sirius took your hand in his and rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. “Get some sleep, Dolly.”

You closed your eyes and rested your head on Sirius’ shoulder. You really did have the best boyfriends, didn’t you?

[butchpeace]

Butches on T

There are an increasing number of people who consider themselves butch lesbians who decide to take medical steps to look more masculine.

On the surface, that seems fine. Their body, their choice right? 

Many trans people take issue with this phenomenon because they think that it’s impossible to both be a lesbian and want to look like a man. This is false.

We're a group that is extremely susceptible to the idea of transition. Why?

Most masculine women face constant judgement from every angle. If we’re made to feel wrong about acting and looking the way we want to, and most of us are, we grow up feeling like we have to suppress our true selves.

We also grow up knowing that we like women. And because most women like men, it’s easy for the idea that we’re “supposed to be boys” to get stuck in our heads at a young age.

Some of us grow up feeling othered, and set apart from women. Even other women will often treat us like we don’t belong, or feminine women will treat us like we should be upholding the heteronormative gender role of “the man” in our relationships.

This leads to discomfort with our bodies. It gets ingrained in our heads that if we were just a little more this, or a little more that, then we would be the best version of ourselves. Then we’ll be lovable. Then people won’t look at us funny or treat us the way they do. We may feel like we’re “half-baked” versions of men. Not ever quite the way we want to look. We have anxiety from the stress of being treated as an outsider, looked at as a freak. And we decide that this is “gender dysphoria”. We’re told that this is normal. We’re told that this means we are something other than female, actually. This seems to validate the feelings we’ve lived with all our lives, to explain them.

Medical transition, and the culture surrounding it, make these changes not just seem possible, but admirable. Who wouldn’t want it?

Butches have been done a major disservice. We have been relegated to the very bottom of the barrel. And because of that, we have always struggled with mental health, substance abuse, loneliness, and lack of community. 

Transition as a cultural phenomenon was unavoidable in our community. This is the path that lesbians have been set on, and it's been a long time coming. But it's time to move past it. Find our communities again. Teach the next generations better.

[its-avalon-08]

can you write a story about daniel x Wife!reader, they just had a child, and with all the stress the atmosphere is tense. maybe daniel is accused of cheating and false rumors. The reader doesn't believe them because she trusts Daniel, but one day on the paddock she sees him very close to another woman who was flirting with him, the media going so far as to make fun of the reader. Daniel does not realize the harm caused until he sees his wife's health deteriorate.

baby you're my everything (dr3)

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, nausea, fluffy ending, cheating rumors

It had been a whirlwind year for Daniel Ricciardo and his wife, Y/N. Their newborn son had brought immense joy, but also the inevitable stress that came with parenthood. The pressure was mounting, and the atmosphere in their home had become tense.

The paddock was buzzing with its usual energy, the atmosphere charged with anticipation for the upcoming race. Daniel was busy discussing strategy with his team when a strikingly beautiful model, someone Y/N recognized from the social circuit, approached him.

"Hey, Daniel," the model greeted with a dazzling smile, her voice dripping with flirtation. "I’ve been following your career for a while now. You’re incredible out there on the track."

Daniel, engrossed in his conversation with the engineers, turned and smiled politely. "Thank you, that means a lot," he replied, genuinely appreciating the compliment but not reading into the model’s intentions.

Y/N stood a short distance away, holding their baby son in her arms. She watched as the model moved closer to Daniel, her laughter ringing out as she made a comment that seemed to amuse him. Daniel’s obliviousness to the model’s obvious flirtation made Y/N’s heart sink. She felt a pang of jealousy and insecurity, knowing the kind of attention her husband attracted.

The model placed a hand on Daniel’s arm, her touch lingering. "You must have so many fans. It must be hard to keep track of all the admiration you get," she purred.

Daniel chuckled, shifting slightly to create some distance but not quite aware of the effect his actions had on Y/N. "It’s part of the job, I guess. But I’m just focused on the race right now."

Y/N’s grip on their son tightened, her knuckles turning white. She wanted to walk over, to make her presence known, but she stayed silent, not wanting to cause a scene. Her heart ached as she watched the interaction, feeling a mixture of sadness and frustration.

Their baby son began to fuss, sensing his mother’s distress. Y/N gently rocked him, trying to soothe him while fighting back tears. She knew Daniel wasn’t doing anything wrong intentionally, but the model’s flirtation and his obliviousness to it cut deep.

After a few more moments, Daniel finally seemed to notice Y/N and their son standing nearby. He excused himself from the conversation with the model, making his way over to them.

"Hey, you two," he greeted warmly, leaning down to kiss Y/N on the cheek and then gently stroking their son’s head. "How’s my little man doing?"

Y/N forced a smile, trying to mask her emotions. "He’s fine. Just a bit restless."

Daniel nodded, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing within her. "I’ll be done soon, and then we can spend some time together."

"Sure," Y/N replied softly, her voice barely audible.

As Daniel turned back to his team, Y/N’s eyes followed the model who was now chatting with someone else. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the negativity. She knew she needed to trust Daniel, but the lingering doubt and hurt gnawed at her.

She whispered to their son, more to herself than to him, "Everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this." But even as she said the words, she couldn’t help but feel a shadow of uncertainty creeping in.

One evening, as Daniel was getting ready to leave for the race weekend, Y/N sat on the couch, cradling their baby. She could sense the distance growing between them, and the rumors circulating in the media weren't helping.

"Daniel," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I saw another article today. They’re saying you’re cheating on me."

Daniel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, you know that's not true. I would never do that to you or our family."

"I know, but it’s hard to ignore. Everyone's talking about it. I trust you, but... it's just hard."

Daniel knelt down in front of her, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I promise you, there's nothing going on. You're the only one for me."

Y/N nodded, trying to push the doubts away. She wanted to believe him, and she did. But the media's relentless scrutiny was taking its toll.

At the paddock, the tension was palpable. Y/N decided to accompany Daniel to the race, hoping her presence would silence the rumors. As she wandered around, she noticed Daniel talking to a woman she recognized from the paddock last time. They were standing close, and the woman was laughing at something Daniel had said.

Y/N's heart sank. She felt a pang of jealousy and doubt. She tried to brush it off, reminding herself of Daniel's promise. But the media was quick to pounce. Paparazzi snapped pictures, and headlines the next day were brutal.

"Ricciardo’s Wife in Tears: The Other Woman Revealed?"

"How Long Will Y/N Stand By Her Man?"

The articles were filled with speculation and mockery. Y/N felt humiliated, and the stress began to affect her health. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. The once vibrant woman Daniel married was now a shadow of her former self.

The days had grown longer and the nights sleepless for Y/N. The constant stress from the rumors and the media's relentless scrutiny had begun to take a severe toll on her health. She had barely eaten in days, and her body was struggling to cope.

One evening, Daniel returned home from the paddock, exhausted but relieved to be back with his family. As he walked through the door, he heard the unmistakable sound of retching coming from the bathroom. His heart sank, and he rushed to find Y/N hunched over the toilet, her body shaking with every heave.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with worry. He knelt beside her, gently pulling her hair back and rubbing her back. "Oh God, you’re burning up," he said, feeling her forehead. "You’ve got a fever."

Y/N coughed and tried to catch her breath, her face pale and clammy. "I’m fine, Daniel," she whispered weakly. "It’s just... the stress. It’s making me sick."

"This isn’t fine, Y/N," Daniel replied, his voice firm but tender. "You need to see a doctor."

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I just need to rest. It'll pass."

Daniel helped her to her feet and guided her to the bedroom. He fetched a cool cloth to place on her forehead and a glass of water. "You need more than rest. This stress is too much for you. We need to find a way to make things better."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with despair. "I don't know how much more I can take, Daniel. I feel like I'm falling apart."

Daniel’s heart ached seeing his wife like this. He took her hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. "We’ll get through this together, Y/N. I promise. I’m going to make sure you get the help you need, and I’m going to do everything I can to stop these rumors."

She nodded, leaning into his touch. "Thank you, Daniel. I trust you."

"Good," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’m going to call the doctor now. We’ll take this one step at a time."

As he stepped out to make the call, he felt a renewed determination. Seeing Y/N so unwell was a stark reminder of how much he needed to protect her, not just from the outside world, but from the stress that was tearing her apart. He knew it was going to be a long road, but he was ready to fight for his family, no matter what it took.

Daniel carefully placed their baby son into the crib, making sure he was snug and comfortable. He watched for a moment as the baby slept peacefully, the innocence of his small, serene face a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling around them.

Returning to the bedroom, Daniel found Y/N lying in bed, her eyes half-closed as she tried to rest. He gently tucked the blanket around her, making sure she was warm and comfortable. He then sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his.

"Y/N," he began softly, his voice trembling with emotion. "I need to say something."

She opened her eyes, looking up at him with a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity. "What is it, Daniel?"

He took a deep breath, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "I’m so sorry for everything. I’ve been so focused on the races, on the media, that I didn’t see how much this was hurting you. I’ve been blind to your pain, and it’s breaking my heart."

Y/N squeezed his hand weakly. "Daniel, it’s not your fault. I know you’re trying your best."

"But it is my fault," he insisted, his voice cracking. "I should have been there for you more. I should have protected you better. Seeing you like this, so sick and stressed, it’s killing me. I never wanted you to suffer because of me."

Tears began to stream down his face, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. "I love you so much, Y/N. You and our son mean everything to me. I promise I’m going to do better. I’ll be more careful with the people I interact with, and I’ll make sure everyone knows that you’re the most important person in my life."

Y/N felt a tear escape her own eye as she reached up to touch his cheek. "I believe you, Daniel. I know you’re trying. We’ll get through this together."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I’m going to make this right. I’ll be by your side every step of the way."

Y/N nodded, feeling a sense of relief and hope despite her exhaustion. "We will. Together."

Daniel stayed by her side until she drifted off to sleep, his heart heavy but determined. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he was ready to face it, to fight for their happiness and for the well-being of their family. As he watched her sleep, he vowed to himself that he would never let her down again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point. 

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some. 

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day. 

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din. 

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display. 

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.” 

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.” 

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?” 

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.” 

She chuckles, “can be.” 

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.” 

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.” 

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.” 

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?” 

“Well, he’s... called in.” 

“Again?” You whine as you face her. 

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs. 

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?” 

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.” 

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?” 

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking. 

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time. 

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful. 

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best. 

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill. 

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting. 

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte. 

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask. 

“Who?” She furrows her brow. 

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.” 

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?” 

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?” 

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.” 

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.” 

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.” 

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.” 

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth. 

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.” 

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him. 

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him. 

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone. 

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch. 

“How are you today?” You ask. 

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.” 

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.” 

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit. 

“Of course, I always do,” you smile. 

“And last time?” 

“Last time...” 

“Twice.” 

You’re confused. What is he talking about? 

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.” 

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--” 

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely. 

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around. 

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.” 

[thewickedjazzy]

Could u do dazai x reader with ocd?

Featuring: Osamu Dazai x gn! ocd reader

Content: sfw, fluff, slightly angst, mention of some swearing words, I believe that's it?,

Author's note: hiiii anon, so sorry for the late response, I swear I was working on it since I received it. I'm also working on all of yall's requests - I'm not sure if you wanted a fic, drabble, or headcanon so I just did a rock paper scissors.

Word count: 1k

❥ Dazai is a smartass, quick witted even, and don't forget that he works at the agency as a detective so of course he will quickly notice how you constantly worry about things going wrong—whether it’s leaving your water bottle uncapped or making a mistake at work. He sees you zoning out at the office, caught in a loop of anxious thoughts, and quickly deduces that it’s more than just everyday stress.

❥ At first, before really getting to know you, he was just a quiet observer. But he never judged, not even once. He’s got his own mental shit to deal with, so he knows how fucked up minds can be. He’d make mental notes of your quirks, just in case he needed to handle them during a mission or whatever.

❥ As he gets to know you better, he figures out how sweet and lovely you are—unlike the twisted side of your mind. It’s like an addiction for him; he craves that balance. He enjoys being friends with someone who has their own dark side, just like he does. Maybe you’ll understand where he's coming from, push him to be a better version of himself.

❥ It’s only after your relationship becomes official that he feels entitled to meddle in your problems. He believes that getting involved in such matters is only appropriate once there’s a solid, established connection between you. Until then, he's just an observer.

❥ You were the one who approached him first, explaining that you have OCD. You felt more anxious than you’d anticipated, having considered telling him many times before but never managing to do so because your mind held you back. He remained calm, and it was only when he revealed that he had known all along that you felt embarrassed. In his typically laid-back manner, Dazai might say, “Oh, I’ve known about your OCD for a while now. You don’t need to be embarrassed—it's actually quite endearing. It doesn’t change a thing between us. We’ll work through it together, and honestly, it’s no big deal.”

❥ One day, while on a mission with him and Atsushi, you were deeply focused on analyzing the crime scene. You managed to uncover evidence that even Dazai had missed, piecing together how the victim was killed with remarkable accuracy.

❥ Needless to say that dazai was surprised by how quickly you cracked the complex case. Even after the murderer was arrested, you continued to ramble about additional details, anxiously checking the file in your hand and worrying about missing something, though there was nothing left to find. Eventually he stopped you, gently holding both your wrists. As you looked up, apologising profusely, he simply shushed you, saying, "It's fine. The case is solved, and we’ve caught the murderer."

❥ Atsushi the poor kid he is watched the exchange between you and Dazai with curiosity. When you reluctantly handed him the file with a nod, Atsushi leaned in and whispered to Dazai, asking if you were alright. Dazai simply smiled and replied, "They're just the perfect detective, doing their job flawlessly."

❥ Dazai is surprisingly attentive to your needs when it comes to your OCD. If you’re stuck in a loop of checking something multiple times, he’ll gently steer you away from it by engaging you in conversation or distracting you with a task. He might even playfully mock himself to make you laugh, using humor to ease your anxiety. “Looks like I’ve accidentally left my keys at home for the fifth time this week. Isn’t that a catastrophe?”

❥ If you’re particularly anxious about a big case or an important event, Dazai might surprise you with a comforting gesture. He could leave little notes or small tokens of reassurance in places you’d find them, like a hidden message in your desk drawer or a comforting snack in your bag.

❥ When you’re feeling overwhelmed, Dazai has a knack for knowing when you need space and when you need company. He might give you space to deal with your thoughts but always makes sure you’re not alone. He could show up with your favorite coffee or a calming playlist, knowing just when to intervene.

❥ Dazai might not always express it directly, but he has a deep understanding of how your OCD affects you and often subtly adapts his behavior to support you. He might avoid making sudden movements or loud noises if he knows it could trigger your anxiety. His sensitivity to your needs shows how much he cares.

❥ Dazai would likely offer reassurances in his own, less conventional way. Dazai might not be that sentimental boyfriend but he makes casual but heartfelt statements that affirm his love, such as “You’re the only one who can put up with my nonsense,” or “I can truly be myself with you, without a second thought.”

❥ Dazai would be more mindful of his humor, staying away from jokes or comments that might trigger your OCD. He might use humor in a way that’s supportive and aligns with your sense of comfort rather than distress.

❥ If someone makes fun of you, Dazai would likely handle it with a blend of nonchalance and protective instinct. He might casually brush off the mockery with a witty comment, like, “Oh, they’re just jealous of your intellect,” showing his confidence in you. If needed, he would also step in to defend you.

➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?

[princessbrunette]

babydaddy!jj still being hopelessly in love with reader. constantly finding reason to be at her place, fixing anything if it breaks, having play dates with your daughter that lead you him sleeping over and waking up to you making him breakfast while he feeds your daughter. all the emotions come running back and he just knows he wants to make you his wife. maybe he’d just blurt it out because he can’t help himself

this. he is relentless. constantly showing up unannounced just to ask you the most random question.

୨ৎ . ⸝⸝ ! 🌙 ꒱

when you open the door you look all stressed and tired and you have coffee down your top and he just wants to make your life easier and help you so bad! cocomelon is on full blast, your baby is loudly babbling and shouting and you’re just simultaneously relieved at his presence but also stubborn, shaking your head at him. “jj this could have been a text.” you respond briskly and his eyes dart between you and your hallway before wedging himself through your door slightly.

“yeah, no for sure uh— i was just in the area, y’know how it is and my phone died so… hold on a minute, what’s this?” he points to the small side table in your hallway and you furrow your brows, too exhausted for the conversation.

“a table.” you answer in deadpan.

“well, you’re damn right about that— but look, right here. this!” he points to the corner. “you know, soon enough our lil girl is gonna start crawlin’ and when she does things like this are gonna be a total danger to her and her squishy head. what if she falls, huh? rams right into it? did’ya consider that?” he’s being totally theatrical, nudging his foot against the low table on the ground.

“i’m sure we’ll manage, jay—”

“nope. you got tape? i’m baby proofin’ the shit outta this house.” he slides into your home, walking straight through to the living room where you hear him greet your baby. “theres my favourite little gremlin!”

you lean against the wall for a second, disorientated from lack of sleep before following him in and dropping down on the couch. “the tapes in the kitchen drawer. just watch her for a little would you? just gonna close my eyes for a second.” you hum, sinking into the couch. you feel the seat dip beside you, and a hand on your arm.

“hey, you been gettin’ any sleep?” his voice is gentler now, concerned.

“m’fine.” you rasp, half asleep already. he sighs out his nose.

“di’nt i tell you to call me if you needed me to take her? dont gotta do this all by yourself, mama.” he softly reprimands and you shrug, too sleepy to argue and he lets it go, watching you for a moment.

you wake up, in your bed at around 2AM — JJ clearly having taken over for the whole night, putting you and the baby to sleep. you shoot up, disorientated and concerned, going to sprint from your bed but accidentally stepping on the blonde sleeping on the floor beside it.

“ow, jeez woman!” he groans, sitting up.

“jay— you, where’s —”

“asleep. you’re meant to be sleepin’ too. you knocked the hell out, aaand… i didn’t wanna wake you n’stuff so…” he explains, running a hand through matted hair. you blink yourself more awake, looking around before back at him.

“why are you down there?” you exasperate and he blinks back at you.

“uh…”

“‘can sleep in here with me jj, it’s fine. you put a baby in me for gods sake you don’t have to act so repulsed.” you grumble before rolling over to face the other way, making room for him. at this, he shoots up, appearing directly behind you in bed.

“hey, woah — quite the accusation there. s’not true, alright? i was being…respectful. that’s my bad.” he holds his hands up and you unclench your muscles slightly, relaxing more into the bed.

“‘kay.” your tone softens and so does he, laying down and getting comfortable beside you, staring at the ceiling. after a moment he speaks again, quietly.

“repulsed… yeah right, dude. i’m like the freakin’ opposite. you have no clue.”

in the morning he’s not by your side, but when you pad out into the kitchen — you find your baby in her high-chair, being spoon fed by her blonde father.

“look who it is, say riiiise and shine, mama.” jj, cheerful as ever grins as he spoons more mush into the babies mouth. she babbles out spitty sounds in retaliation, equally thrilled to see you. “yeah, close enough.” he chuckles, wiping the mess on her chin.

“good morning baby!” you coo, leaning forward to kiss her soft head. “and good morning daddy.” you gently place your hand on his back as you pass him making his heart skip a beat, watching you rifle the cabinet for your mug to make some coffee.

“oo, i remember when you used t’call me that.” he smirks to himself, spooning up more baby food and you whip your head around to give him a look.

“jj! not infront of the baby.” you huff, light heartedly and he holds up a hand.

“my bad, my bad.”

his smile doesn’t fade, and when you turn you back to pick out a mug — you grow one of your own.

୨ৎ . ⸝⸝ ! 🌙 ꒱