#Employee Feedback Mistakes

[xoxodayempuls]

7 Mistakes to Avoid During Employee Feedback Process

Any manager will tell you that the hardest part of the job performance criteria is giving employee feedback – and even according to a Harvard Business Review Case Study.

Trying to maintain the fine line between constructive criticism and destroying someone’s confidence is a tough challenge, and the balance of employee engagement depends on the employee feedback process.

Part of that challenge is finding an appropriate reward and recognition program to motivate everyone.

Employee feedback process: Mistakes to avoid

If you have employees under you, here are the five most common mistakes you need to avoid and how managers can improve employee satisfaction with the feedback process.

1. Not giving ANY employee feedback

Perhaps the idea of sitting down and going through an employee’s performance evaluation is a task you can’t face. Perhaps you don’t have the time or want to avoid a potential conflict.

The problem with not giving employee feedback is that you lose staff confidence. It also deters the possibility of setting improvement goals for your individual employees.

If you don’t have time for a one-to-one sit down, then, instead, take time to create an accurate and clear email. In a performance review process, lay out everything you need your employees to do to improve performance while praising everything they’re doing right.

Read More – Employee Feedback Mistakes

[tardis--dreams]

Got my employment contract and it sounds so annoying already

[dollwrites]

ʀᴜᴍ ʀᴜɴɴᴇʀ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ɢᴀʟʟᴀɢʜᴇʀ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!waitress!reader, innocent!reader, dub con, suggested age gap, size kink, thighjob, public play, scent marking. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act nine [ thigh fucking ]

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“One more rum runner, please.”

“My pleasure, I’ll have that right out.”

Dreamjolt Holstery was abuzz, tables full, a slow and sultry jazz melody practically drifting through the air as a pretty Halovian woman in a sparkling dress tickled the ivories with expert and slender fingers. the atmosphere smelled of spices and mixing cologne. cherry-flavored fog curls up from a boulder-shaped man’s cigar in a corner booth by himself. and you traipse the maze of customers needing tending with the grace and elegance befitting your status as Penacony-born. after all, the Dreamscape was like your second home, and you’d learned how to traverse it with ease. the tourists you pass by, table after table full of awed looks and hushed whispers of wonder at the whimsical land they’re vacationing in, never fail to make you smile. happy that they’re enjoying themselves here.

your dress flutters like wings as you pass the empty service bar. usually, that would be your stop. the bartender would make each order you ask for with care, and when it was done, you’d arrange them neatly upon a tray and distribute them throughout the lounge. a familiar twirling, light-footed dance around tables and through aisles of booths. tonight, however, the service bar was darkened. the tender was not there, and that was because it was closed. all through your shift, you’ve had to squish yourself into the packed crowd waiting for drinks at the main bar.

where Gallagher worked, of course.

your cheeks seem to take on a heat at the simple mention of his name in your thoughts. you thought about the scruffy, smirking bartender. how his baritone rumbles, a hound’s growl in his throat, and the syllables of your name drip from his tongue. it makes you weak in the knees, which is why you much prefer when the service bar is open so you can avoid swooning from one, little smolder.

approaching the bar to find not a stool vacant, and not an inch of space without someone taking it up, you sigh softly, attempting to get Gallagher’s attention from the furthest corner, nearest the employee entrance, by waving your hand, though at first he’s immersed in conversation with his patrons. as much as you hated to interrupt, you had your own customers to take care of. “Gallagher!” you call out, waving your hand again, though you were unsure if you were as dwarfed by the crowd as you felt.

thankfully, however, a sleepy-looking moonstone gaze falls upon you, and he makes his way down to you, picking up an order or two on the way. “Gotta get that service bar up and runnin’,” he says in a lazy drawl, reaching to grab two bottles by the necks off the display rack, “what do you need, girlie?” but he didn’t sound annoyed, or rude. in fact, it was difficult not to focus on the little smirk that inched his lips up.

“One more rum runner,” you reply with a sheepish and apologetic bat of your eyelashes. “Then I promise to leave you alone.”

Gallagher chuckles at that, shaking his head as he plucks the run up with the same hand. “Now, that, I wouldn’t even dream of.” he answers, dumping the ingredients into a cocktail shaker. he seems not to notice the way you shy away from him as he works, afraid to look at the way his muscles bulge against the tight confines of his shirt along his biceps as he shakes up the drink, lest you embarrass yourself by staring. if he did, then he didn’t say anything, already giving his attention to the customer ordering right in front of him.

nervously, you drum your fingers on the bartop, trying to look anywhere else. even as his rough, yet light-hearted chuckle warms the aura. your eyes flit downward, to your own fingers, before they follow a little puddle of translucent, glowing liquid that had probably been spilt as he made a drink earlier, but had yet to be wiped up. then, your eyeline, as if pulled by gravity, jumps to to cocktail glass in front of him, and the reddish orange drink that flooded into it. following the arc of his pour, your gaze crests along the thickness of his knuckles, faint scars you can see peeking out from beneath the leather of his fingerless glove, and the sheer size of his hand. up, up, up your stare crawled. along his tan forearm, branded with more criss-cross scarring and thick, dark hair, to the folds in his shirt, rolled up at the elbow whilst he worked. the sloping mountains of his bicep, and along the broad expanse of his shoulder, before you found yourself doing exactly what you had been trying not to— staring at his handsome face. thankfully, he was preoccupied, and didn’t feel you looking. it gave you more time to admire the little details. the fine lines in the corner of his tired eyes, a testament to his age. the sparsely scattered hair above his lip and on his chin, the deep plunge of his nose from the profile view you were given.

“Gall… agher…” you weren’t even certain you’d said it out loud, but your lips most certainly formed the syllables as you admired him. that was, until you realized the rum runner was finished. instead of handing it to you like he had been doing all night, though, he’d set it on the back counter, where the racks of booze were. had he gotten too distracted by conversation? “Gallagher, the drink—“

but he was already busy, making another. his back was to you as he swaggered down to the opposite end of the bar to fulfill another order.

well, that’s no big deal— he’s super busy, and anyway, you can take a couple more steps to grab a drink. pulling on the divider, the staff entrance opens, and you scurry behind the bar. it takes three steps into Gallagher’s domain to reach your order, but you’ve no time to wrap your fingers around the stem of the glass before you feel his imposing, warm figure at your back.

“Finally,” he murmurs, and you shudder at just how close his mouth is to your ear. he must be leaning down to allow his lips to just brush against the shell of it, his breath hot and heavy against the side of your cheek. it raises goosebumps on your arms, and your hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. his arm stretches out, to place a bottle back into it’s home of the shelf in front of you, but it feels more like a maneuver to box you in against the bar. “Been tryin’ to get you back here all night long, girlie.”

“W—why?” you ask, your eyes flickering down to the other side of the bar. one, powerful hand rests upon it, truly caging you in place. “I should really get this out to my table—“ you’d reached for the drink again, the sensation of him at your back like a thick, sturdy wall that radiates heat making you dizzy.

“In a minute,” he stops you, nuzzling his face against your hair. it takes a moment of burrowing before he reaches your neck, sniffing wildly like a beast who’s taken with the aroma of a fresh kill, before he snorts, allowing his lips to dance along the tender column of your neck. “You wanna know something? I’ve kept my eye on you, and let me tell you… That little dress a’yers been driving me wild all night.” his heavy boots crunches of spilled ice as he plants his feet on either side of yours, pressing his body right up against your back. it was then that you felt a bulge, thick and hard, rubbing against your butt through his trousers. you can’t help the embarrassing half-whine that leaves your lips, or the humiliation that follows when he hears it. “You feel it, don’t you, little girl?” he purrs against your skin, the dull edges of his teeth grazing your flawless skin. “How hard you make me, just by skipping around in that skimpy skirt. Your soft, warm thighs on perfect display for me.” one hand slides off the bar to grip your thigh, and you practically melt into his groping. he can nearly close his large fist around your thigh, his fingers brushing up against your panties. a low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat when he feels how warm your core is, and you can’t help the damp patch that is subsequently formed. “Been wanting to get my hands on ya. Feel you just like this. Make you feel me, too.” his other hand disappears now, too, between his body and yours. moments later, you hear the unbuckling of his belt, the undoing of his fly.

“Gallagher—“ it was hard to think, what with the air around you and him thick with lust, and his heavy breath on your neck, but you still managed to stammer out, “th—the drink will get— watery—“

“I’ll make ya a hundred of ‘em after this if it does, so long as you just hush up for a minute, little girl.” he mutters, and frees his aching cock from it’s confines. slipping it under your skirt, he teased the back of your panties with the tip for moment, trailing hot pecks up your neck and along your jaw bone. “Stay just like this, and let me feel those plush thighs squeeze my cock.” pushing the head of his dick along the curve of your panty line, it’s only a matter of moments before it worms it’s way between your thighs, perching your clothed core atop his length. pushing up on to your toes in order to keep your balance, you gasp and grab the edge of the bartop with both hands, but Gallagher has snaked his hands around you, pressing them both flat against your belly to push your body back against him. “That’s a good girl,” he praises gruffly, his hips rolling forward against you. there’s a little resistance at first, before your arousal and his own precum mingle between your thighs and create a sticky, slick cavity for him to fuck. you glance down, breathless, and watch the way his cock jabs against the ruffles in your skirt when he thrusts, and how the bulge disappears when he recoils. the wet cotton of your panties is harsh on your sensitive cunt as it sits flush against the veiny tool pumping between your thighs. “So soft,” he murmurs, before taking your earlobe between his teeth, tugging ever so slightly. “But you’re soaking wet, girlie. You’re making a mess on yourself. That greedy pussy of yours already wants a turn?”

“A—ah, d-don’t…” you feel your humiliation growing with each word, your cheeks on fire and your body trembling. you weren’t asking him to stop, you couldn’t imagine forming those words. “D—don’t say that, it’s dirty…!”

Gallagher chuckles, but it’s hoarse and forced from his lips. “So shy.” he scoffs, taking the flare of your hip against his palm to move your body back and forth, and match his eager rhythm. “For a little thing pinned to the bar, riding my cock. Clenching her pretty, little thighs while I use ‘em just like a sweet. Little. Pussy.” each word is emphasized by a snap of his hips, ramming his girth forward. every throbbing vein on his cock creates a ridge that you feel as it scrapes against your swollen clit, and you mewl with your lips pursed, your imagination running wild with what it would feel like if he’d decided, instead, to push your panties aside and fuck you properly.

“You already feel too good,” Gallagher growls against your cheek, giving it a tender, little kiss. it was a stark juxtaposition to the way his girth pounded the tight gap between your thighs, but it still made you crumble back into his arms, swooning. “Gonna make me cum quick.”

“W—what?” you blinked, suddenly hyper aware. you try to push yourself back up, but the hold he has on your hip and belly keeps you firmly against his heaving chest as he roughly chases his high. “Wh—where are you—“

“Heh.”

it was a half a chuckle, but it was all Gallagher could form before he was grinding his teeth. hips erratically bucking forward, he changes the angle by taking a half a step forward, nearly pushing you over the bar in the process, and his tip jams itself repeatedly and angrily against your panties, each time shooting a rope of his release that clings to the fabric and threatens to tear them open with the force applied. somehow, the soiled, wet fabric holds some of its integrity, even as he empties his balls on to it, allowing his smell to really seep into the fibers and mix with yours. “Even a mutt knows to mark his territory so others don’t claim it.” he hisses after a long moment of listening to his huffing and puffing as he came on your panties.

“Y—your territory?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

with a few more shakes, using his fist to grip his cock and squeeze the last couple of beads from the softening cock, he takes a step back, giving enough space to be able to tuck it back into his pants without a single patron realizing what was going on. you stumble, once you drop down from your sore toes flat on your feet. the warm, wet feeling of Gallagher’s cum deep in the threads of your panties making your legs feel like jelly.

“Mhm, those warm thighs. Your needy, little cunt. Mine now, ain’t they?” he grins down at you, placing a hand against your lower back to keep you steady so you don’t fall. he doesn’t wait for an answer before he uses his free hand to push the rum runner into yours, and he gives you a little nudge to send you stumbling, blinking and dazed after what just happened, out from behind the bar with a playful taunt. “Now, hurry up. Drink’s gettin’ watery.”

[navybrat817]

His Favorite Person

Pairing: Librarian!Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Summary: You want to be more than friends with Ari.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, sweetness, friends to lovers (of sorts), Ari Levinson (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @lovebittenbyevans requested Librarian AU, friends to lovers with Ari, and to dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff) with prompt #7 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You stood on your tiptoes to reach a book on the top shelf. You huffed out a breath and tried to stretch a little bit more, but your fingers barely skimmed the spine. It would’ve been easier to ask for some help, but you didn’t want to bother Ari. You bothered him enough during his shifts.

You should’ve known he was only standing a few feet away, watching the display with a smirk on his ridiculously handsome face. “Need some help?” He asked.

Managing not to fall into the shelf from the slight scare, you pointed to the book you tried and failed to grab. “If you wouldn’t mind?” You asked, dragging your eyes from his chest to his eyes. It was like looking into a storm, but warmth lingered in a way that told you not to fear any destruction left in its wake. “Please?”

Rugged was the word that came to mind whenever you glanced at him. A dark beard to match his long hair and jeans that showed off his large thighs, he even had the sleeves of his tight shirt rolled up so you could see his veins. The man could've easily passed for an adventurer instead of a librarian and you were certain he caught you staring at him more than once.

It wasn’t polite to stare, but was it fair for him to be so good looking?

“Don’t mind at all,” he said, plucking it from the shelf and placing it in your waiting hand. “You could’ve just asked me to grab it from the start, but you just had to be stubborn.”

“I wasn’t being stubborn,” you argued. He raised an eyebrow in response. “You just have a lot to do and I didn’t want to bother you,” you said, hugging the book to your chest.

“You were being stubborn, you’ve never once bothered me, and it’s part of my job to help.” Ari made a show of looking around, his silky hair flowing with the motion. “But I guess you’re right. I have so much to do since it’s so crowded today,” he joked.

It wasn’t a secret that the library was hit and miss in town. So many wanted their stories electronically and didn’t appreciate the feel of a book in their hands. Ari did what he could though since he took over as head librarian. Between overseeing the daily operations and managing his employees, he took his job seriously. You had no doubt he’d bring a much needed spark back to the place.

“Yeah, well, thanks for your help,” you said.

“Another romance novel, huh? Didn’t you just bring one back today?”

Your face grew warm before you nodded. Of course, he’d notice that. “You know me,” you mumbled, hugging the book tighter.

He took a step closer, searching your face with a gentle gaze. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with reading what you love.”

There was no judgement in his eyes and that made the corner of your lips lift in a smile. “I appreciate that.”

Being single, reading books like that allowed you to dive into various worlds and experience love. You could immerse yourself and imagine having a partner who would not only overcome obstacles with you, but would ensure that there would be a happily ever after. In a world often dark and negative, the escape gave you hope that one day you'd manage to find someone who could love you so deeply. You didn't want to think that romance only existed in books.

If only you were brave enough to take a chance and ask Ari out.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” you began, walking beside him to head to the front desk. He took up a good portion of the aisle with his beefy frame and you had to tell yourself again not to stare. “I spoke with my boss about adjusting my hours and they approved it! I can do Story Time on Tuesdays.”

“That’s great!” The smile on Ari’s face was worth moving your schedule around. “I really appreciate you doing that for me. I owe you one.”

You wished you would’ve teasingly suggested a date as a form of payment, but you shrugged. “You don’t owe me anything. You’re my friend and that’s what friends do,” you said, cringing inwardly. It sounded lame to your ears.

“Yeah. Friends.” His smile faded slightly as he walked around the counter. “Just this book today, right?” He asked, slipping into his professional tone. Still pleasant to hear, but a touch of the usual warmth was gone. Like you were just like every other person who walked into the library.

“Yeah,” you replied, passing over your library card. “Did I say something wrong?” You added, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, you didn’t,” he said, his large hand placing your card on top of the book. He passed it over to you and you couldn’t ignore the jolt of electricity that moved through you when your fingers touched. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just…” Putting him on the spot wasn’t your intention and you didn’t want to point out his slight change in demeanor. “You do consider us friends, right?”

You didn't have a lot of close friends, but you considered Ari to be one of them. At the very least, he was friendly with you. It was possible that you read things wrong. Engrossing yourself in one too many books could’ve blurred your version of reality.

“Of course, I do. You’re my favorite person,” he replied. You leaned on the counter with a relieved and dopey smile at his statement. Were you really his favorite person? “But just because you’re my favorite person doesn’t mean I have to be yours.”

“But you are my favorite person,” you blurted out, covering your mouth when your voice echoed. “Sorry,” you added in a hushed whisper. It was a library. You needed to be somewhat quiet.

He chuckled and leaned on the counter, too, his eyes zeroed on you. “Oh, I am, am I? So, you don't actually come here to borrow romance novels. You’re just really looking for an excuse to see me.”

Your heart pounded, but you took a breath to keep your cool and hopefully not make a fool out of yourself. “I come here for the books and to see you, Ari,” you said carefully, the corner of your lip twitching in a smile. “But you obviously want to see me, too, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked me to do Story Time.”

“Well, yeah,” he smirked before softly adding, “Seeing you is the best part of my day.”

How did your knees not buckle? “It is?”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, almost to himself. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did, but you can ask me another question,” you teased.

He stretched across the counter a bit more. “If I'm your favorite person and you're mine, why haven't we gone on a date?”

For a moment, it felt like the room sucked up all the oxygen. Breathing should've been natural to do, but you couldn't inhale as you stared at him. Glancing down at the book to get your bearings, it dared you to take a chance. A leap of faith. With a deep breath, you did.

“Because I've been waiting for you to ask me out and you haven't yet. And I've been too chicken to ask you myself,” you replied. You regretted the words the moment he stood up straight, his expression unreadable. He didn’t actually want that, did he? “I’m sorry. Forget I said that. Please.”

A second passed and his lips slightly parted, but he didn't speak. His silence said it all. Nodding with a heavy heart, you turned to walk away from the counter. You could lick your wounds later as you read another happily ever after.

“Shit. Wait.” Ari moved with impressive speed to block your path, his grip gentle on your arms to stop you. “Did you mean it? You really want to go on a date with me?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I do, but I understand if-”

“Thank fuck,” he sighed, your eyes rounding at his words. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for days and I got worried there for a moment with the ‘friends’ comment that you didn't want anything beyond friendship.”

Your stomach did somersaults. Ari liked you. He wanted to ask you out. God, you almost ruined things before they started. “I’m sorry I worried you, but trust me. I'm very interested in you, Ari,” you smiled, forgetting you were in the library as you stepped closer. “And if you ask me, some of the best romances come from friendships.”

“They do.” He smiled back, his cerelain eyes lit up like yours. “And our story will be more romantic than any of those books you’ve been reading.”

Biting your lip, you watched as his gaze dropped to your mouth. What would it feel like if he bit your lip? “I don’t know. That’s a pretty tall order.”

He brought his mouth to your ear. “I’m a very determined man,” he whispered. No doubt he felt you tremble in his grasp. “Saturday night?”

“It’s a date.”

A date and the beginning of your love story.

We know this man would plan the perfect date, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hansensgirl]

💸 — 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (2/3)

summary. | The mob boss has an alternate way you can pay off your debt.

pairing. | dark!mob boss!Ari Levinson x naive!fem!reader.

chapter warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dark themes, obsession, stalking, mob themes, manipulation, pet names, age gap, innocence kink, abuse of power, corruption kink, power imbalance, smoking (ari), debt, Daddy kink, control kink, rules, verbal contract, loss of employee, anxiety/fear, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~2k

author’s note. | series masterlist. here’s part two (finally)! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. any and all feedback (positive) is welcome. no beta, all mistakes are my own. taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY!

When you arrive at work the next day—stocking shelves at a grocery store—your boss regards you with far more contempt than before.

Your brows remain knitted as she approaches you, your uniforms matching, except she’s allowed to wear a sweater on top. You must suffer in the cold, with an aching back and sore arms and legs. She says your name to grab your full attention, which doesn’t take much, what with the boredom that drives you to death here.

“Why are you here?” Lydia asks. You’re confused. “…I work here?” you answer with a slight laugh to your tone, though you aren’t amused. You prefer to just do your job without a hitch.

“You don’t. And I don’t accept volunteers,” she nearly sneers, and you halt what you’re doing. She’s never been very nice, but this is another level. The cans of beans can wait. “What are you talking about, Lydia? Is this a joke?” you question, placing your hands on your hips.

“I fuckin’ wish. Your little mob boyfriend came around last night—said you quit,” she explains, and her words are bewildering. Once the absurdity blurs and the meaning hits you, you start to think. You rack your brain as to who would’ve done something like that.

Ari.

“Listen, I’ve already got a girl coming in later today. The job isn’t hard, s’not like I’m dying for you to stay,” Lydia sighs. Her words are harsh, but you expect nothing kind from the woman who is all too eager to fill her pockets.

“Go home. Don’t come back here,” your boss demands. You flinch from how she spits her words, watching as she walks off to harass one of your coworkers. Ex-coworkers.

You’re filled with ire as you pack your things up and say goodbye to people you’ve known for so long. As you walk home, you think about Lydia’s words. Why would Ari do something like that? You never hurt him—so why would he hurt you?

You start to worry about the grander things, too. You have no source of income anymore, just what you’ve saved. Soon, the bills will come in, and your rent will be due.

You near your home and spy a car parked outside. It’s fancy—an emulation of a vintage Impala. But it doesn’t belong in front of your dingy condominium. You know who owns it.

Some neighbours that loiter outside watch you. You’ve never been subject to their nosiness, and the feeling of scrutiny—the knowledge of judgement—is unwelcome. But that’s the least of your worries.

The mob leader is inside your home, and you have to confront him. What if Ari changed his mind about the deal? And he’s here to kill you? Your hands shake as you open the door, unable to prolong the confrontation. There is no upstairs—therefore, nowhere to run.

You swing the door open to find Ari sitting on your couch, watching the news on your television. He wears another one of his fancy suits—similar to the one from yesterday, but in a different colour. He sips something from one of your favourite mugs and sighs in relief afterwards.

You close the door behind you quietly. The locks click in place, and the sounds prompt Ari to look at you.

“Hey, hon,” he greets, giving you a charming smile. “H– Hi, Ari…” you respond, shrugging off your jacket and handing it on the lone hook. “You’ve got a nice home here,” Ari compliments, and you awkwardly press your lips together.

“Thanks,” you murmur, inching towards the kitchen. It isn’t much—the epitome of honest work. You take the compliment, though you’re unsure how you should feel. He lives in mansions bigger than you could possibly imagine. What’s so impressive about your small world?

The fact that he can turn it upside down—put a dent in it, shake it up, and it wouldn’t take much.

The television switches off, and the mob boss sighs. He stands up and saunters into the kitchen. You never realized how tall he is until now. You crane your head up to look at him, but the intensity of Ari’s gaze is too much to bear. You guide your gaze to the tiles.

“I needed to talk to you,” he starts, and you set the mug you had grabbed onto the countertop. Your thirst can wait. “Y– You have my number, right?” you ask, hoping your tone doesn’t come off as rude. Your voice is shaky with fear.

Ari grunts, eyes never once leaving your face. “You’re right. I do,” he agrees. You never gave it to him—he took it.

“But I prefer this. Being with you—talking to you, not texting,” Ari explains. You nod, briefly gazing at him before resuming your staring at the floor. Suddenly, a warm, large hand comes up to your chin and tilts your head up.

You’re forced to meet the older man’s gaze. For the first time, you note that his eyes are a beautiful shade of blue. There’s even a hint of green swirled into the oceans. “There are a few things we need to discuss. Important things,” Ari tells you.

“Like what?” you breathlessly ask. “Rules,” he says.

The thought of having rules isn’t as insulting as you want it to be. They would serve as guidelines—lifelines, little things you can hold onto for the next few months.

“C’mon, honey. Let’s go sit. I’m sure you’re tired after your long walk home,” Ari urges, guiding you to the living room with ease. You let him do whatever he wants—and that more than pleases the mob boss. But he doesn’t let you sit down.

First, Ari sits on the wingback chair you snagged from a yard sale at a decent price. Then, he pulls you onto his lap. You let out an ‘oomph!’ at the rudeness of his actions. He’s brazen and confident, everything you will never be, even in your lonesome times.

Ari lets out an exhale of relaxation, settling you on his thighs until both of you are comfortable. He holds you gently yet firmly, thumbs stroking your skin to get you to calm down.

“Doesn’t this feel nice? Right?” the older man asks, but you’re not sure how to respond. Your honesty is embarrassing, but your deceit will offend him. “I– It does,” you admit, much to your chagrin.

“Exactly—so why fight it? Why fight me?” Ari questions, and you shrug. You’ve never been good at confrontation. “I– I’m not. I’m just… confused. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never even dated anyone!” you exclaim, though your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Ari shushes you, one of his hands rubbing circles on your back so that you don’t get worked up. “Shh… It’s okay. Don’t worry,” he tells you, his tone gentle and full of patience—kindness, perhaps even love. The idea is baffling.

“All that purity is what makes you so precious,” he whispers in your ear, nose nuzzling the side of your head. He smells of cigarettes and expensive cologne. “And that’s exactly why I want you, sweetie. You’re… innocent. Perfect. All mine…”

You sigh shakily at his words. They have you flustered. No man has ever charmed you the way he has. “Th– Thank you…”

“I’m here for you, princess. Anything you need, you come to me. Got that?” he reassures, and you nod your head. You doubt you’ll ever ask Ari for anything—but you do have a question for him.

“C– Can I ask you something?” you wonder. The mob boss smiles and gives you the go. “Did you go to my job and tell them I quit?”

A few moments of silence pass. “Yes, and I wanted to tell you this before, but I had to take care of some other stuff,” he quickly explains, but his words are slow and calm. They’re not rushed or panicked.

“You always wake up early, so I didn’t have enough time to get here before you went to work,” Ari finishes, lips pressed into a line, showing just how disappointed he is in himself.

“I– I’m not upset about that,” you clarify, looking down at your hands. “Then what is it, sugar? Hm?” he presses.

The pet names make you feel so sweet in the mind, almost hazy. You’ve always dreamed of love like this—but you know what you and Ari have isn’t love. You’ve always been naive, but you’re a realist.

“What am I supposed to do? I need money to live, Ari,” you say almost incredulously. Ari’s smile grows like he’s holding back a secret that he’s been dying to tell you.

“I told you not to worry about these things, honey,” he chides. “I’ll take care of you—as long as you follow the rules,” Ari warns, but he remains kind. So far, in your eyes, the benefits are all too enticing.

Will the rules be the other shoe that’s been waiting to drop? No, impossible—Ari is too kind to be so cruel.

“What are the rules?” you ask him. “They’re pretty simple, nothing you need to worry your little head about,” Ari coos, making you feel much more relaxed.

“Firstly, you always have to look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he begins, spreading his thighs out just a bit as he settles further into the chair. You mindlessly nod before catching yourself and correcting your error.

You reluctantly make eye contact with Ari, which bears to be too much, so you settle for staring at the beauty marks littered across his face.

“Good girl,” he hums. The praise makes you feel warm on the inside—safe, even in the arms of the most dangerous man in the city.

“Secondly,” Ari resumes, eyes remaining locked with yours. You take the time to admire the little details on his face. The freckles and beauty spot, the grey hairs in his beard, and the battle scar on his forehead slightly covered by his long locks. “You don’t call me ‘Ari,’ baby. It’s ‘Daddy’ from now on.”

The question of why—and even a negotiation to have this rule only apply behind closed doors—fizzles on your tongue. Instead, you acquiesce.

“Yes… Daddy.”

Ari lets out a small growl at your words. You actually saying the word is much better than he ever imagined. The mob boss can feel blood rushing to his cock, but he wills himself to stay strong. Not yet—it’s too soon, he thinks to himself.

“Thirdly, honey,” he continues, voice laboured and a bit gruff. “You’re not allowed to tell me ‘no.’ Ever.”

Ari firmly lays down the third law, leaving no room for your freedom. You can feel your independence slipping away, but you reassure yourself. It’ll only be for a few months. Perhaps this is for your own good. Yes, that’s it.

“Okay…” you whisper under your breath. Ari ignores your slight mishap. He knows you’ll return to being his perfect girl in no time. He understands—ever the kind man.

“Lastly—and most importantly—is that you must always listen to me, no matter what,” he gently adds. Ari runs his hands up and down your back, soothing you from how he’s completely changed your world. “Got it all, baby?” the older man asks.

You hesitate before nodding. “Good girl,” Ari coos, and you can’t help but smile. He’s sweeter than you believed. “Now, I could make you sign a contract,” he sighs, his gentle face morphing into one that looks stressed, perhaps even disappointed. There is a pang in your heart.

“But I trust you. Don’t ruin that.”

A threat hangs in the air, but you’re too grateful to see it. Ari knows this all too well, and he can’t help but feel pride over how he managed to get you to fall into his lap. What would a girl like you ever do without a strong man like him by your side? Not much, that’s what.

“I won’t, Daddy. I promise,” you eventually break the silence, and you’re gifted with Ari’s knee-buckling smile.

[pillowspace]

The Magnus Archives Fic Rec List

Press the read more for recommended fanfiction of The Magnus Archives! Never heard The Magnus Archives and are interested?

Current number of fics: 85

last updated March 18th, 2024

These are all works that I have personally read at least a couple thousand words of and enjoyed myself, so this list will reflect my own reading habits

If you are the author of a fic, you can request your work be removed from the list. Everyone should be comfortable

Table of Contents - 1. England Jonmartin-centric, 2. Scottish Safehouse Period, 3. Gen or Background Pairings, 4. Time Travel, 5. Highly Alternate, 6. Gerrymichael, 7. Other, 8. Updates (note: some categories tend to overlap. Only one will be prioritized)

England Jonmartin-Centric

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

Full, Riotous Bloom by BigTed

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Statement of Martin Blackwood, regarding…” Jon looks at him. Looks at him. The look of a boss whose employee was late three times last week, the look of a man who was just busy doing something really important and now he’s here, doing this instead. “...why he stole a grieving family’s oven gloves.”

-

Martin has a run in with a deadly Leitner, leaving him choking on his unrequited love.

M | Words: 66,962 | Chapters: 13/13

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

fell in your opinion when i fell in love with you by Athina_Blaine

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“This is the Magnus Institute, not a creative writing course at university. If that doesn’t agree with him, he can leave.” There was a thud and the sound of rifling tapes. “He can take his bloody tea with him.”

Martin’s fingers tightened on the saucer. Oh.

-

Martin knows better than to talk about it. It's fine. He's fine.

Part 1 of it's only when i hit the ground it causes all the grief

M | Words: 18,987 | Chapters: 2/2

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Just a Little Bit Pet-tea by arthureameslove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin makes Jon tea for the first time about a week into his transfer. It’s horrible. Gag-reflex inducing. Somehow sporting all the wrong flavors.

For some reason, he does not have the heart to break this to Martin.

Little does Jon know that Martin actually makes wonderful tea. Just not for him.

G | Words: 13,335 | Chapters: 3/3

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Misshapes, Mistakes, Monsters by ZaliaChimera

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The Archives are his and stepping away from them, even for a night… it’s strange. Like he’s pretending to be someone else.

Like he’s pretending to be human.

Jon and Martin attend Jon's Oxford University Reunion.

T | Words: 7,969 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Say You Love Me (Learn to Lie) by iamcringebutiamfree

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

It shouldn’t have been surprising to learn that Martin hated him. He had been, he knew, a truly terrible boss - he’d treated Martin horribly, caused him to lose his home, nearly gotten him killed. Really, it had been ridiculous to ever think that Martin wouldn’t hate him.

Still, Jon had been trying, in his own way, to make it up to him. There wasn’t exactly a card at the drugstore that said, “I’m sorry I berated you for six months and caused you to nearly be eaten by a swarm of worms of potentially supernatural origin,” but he’d been trying. He brought Martin breakfast every morning, made sure the breakroom cabinets were stocked with his favorite blends of tea, and had tried to work some genuine praise into his feedback of Martin’s work. None of it was the direct apology that his conscience told him he really ought to give, but Martin had appreciated it. Or seemed to, anyway.

Jon wasn’t certain what motivated the decision he made next - whether it was guilt or spite or something else. He could, he knew, be quite petty when the situation called for it. Either way, he made up his mind then and there to prove Martin wrong. He was going to be the best fake boyfriend he could be.

A Fake Dating AU!

T | Words: 37,889 | Chapters: 10/10

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a consideration of tropes by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Do you know much about cataloguing?” Jon asks, a little out of breath from the stairs.

Martin, mid-trolley, rolls his eyes. The gesture he makes at the shelves around him is only emphasised by the book he’s holding.

“What exactly do you think I do here, other than sit around and wait for angry patrons to yell at me?”

“Think of what you’re going to yell back?” Jon says, and Martin’s mouth twitches into a smile.

-

Asking the very important question: what if Jon and Martin had a gentle archives/library romance, and kept running into tropes? What if there was mutual pining involved? Only one bed? Fake dating? Hurt/comfort? Or perhaps, a soft and happy ending?

T | Words: 40,966 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

It Serenely Disdains to Destroy Us by trill_gutterbug

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin gnaws his lower lip. “Do you think he’ll - I mean, do you think it’ll be…”

Melanie's smile becomes a little less of a grimace. She claps his shoulder. “Martin. It’ll be fine. It’s only temporary. He’s not moving in.”

Martin chuckles. “Yes. Of course.”

-

Jon's flat is being fumigated. He is not impressed. Martin offers his spare bedroom.

T | Words: 13,048 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

terror management theory by prismatical

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist (briefly)

“It’s a preexisting condition,” Jon explains, sipping more bitter tea. “I sort of got—hm. You know Spiderman?”

Tim raises an eyebrow.

“Heard of him, yeah.”

Jon nods, studying his tea.

“It’s sort of like that,” he says. “A spider killed and ate me when I was a child, and now I can’t stay dead.”

-

Resurrection isn't all it's cracked up to be.

T | Words: 36,587 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight.

It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs.

He always liked the idea of it.

And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

NR | Words: 7,624 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a little love, a little sympathy by Did

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

And then Jon is snarling into his face, demanding what are you hiding with a strange, bright-eyed intensity Martin has never seen from him before, and Martin thinks god, maybe he should just come clean about his CV, Jon thinking he's a fraud can't be any worse than Jon thinking he's a murderer-

Martin opens his mouth to speak. To his absolute horror, what actually comes out is: "I used to pretend to cry because I liked how nice you were to me when you thought I was upset!"

G | Words: 3,308 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

all resistance wearing thin by DivineProjectZero

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin Blackwood would do anything for Jonathan Sims. The Web made him that way, after all.

T | Words: 4,799 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Sam nie pojmuję, jak w twe zajdę progi by Mad_Maudlin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin's been acting odd since Jon came back. Well, odder than usual.

T | Words: 3,118 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Mundanity by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Inspired by @ themlet's post on Tumblr: Jon has to deal with normal human interactions. Martin helps (sort of). Featuring high school reunions, knitted sweaters, and conversations on the bus ride home.

T | Words: 3,097 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Musical Mechanism by Darblesify

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin has always used music to cope. One day he's playing music music out loud in the archive and Tim and Sasha realize the main singer's voice sounds familiar.

AKA Martin's favorite band might happen to be the one Jon was secretly a part of in college.

T | Words: 21,411 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Misfiled and Misinformed by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Jon and Martin are married. Tim and Sasha know this. What they don't know is that it's to each other.

T | Words: 2,507 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

look no further by inkyindigo

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin just wants to keep Jon safe. Sometimes the easiest way to do that is to bodily remove him from harm's way.

or, a collection of times Martin picks Jon up.

T | Words: 15,145 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Touch Me, Even if it Hurts by AuralQueer

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner

People don't really touch Jonathan Sims unless they want to hurt him. That's mostly fine. Jon has never been a tactile person, and he doesn't need anyone but himself.

Except the world is falling down around him, and loneliness aches, and sometimes he'll take anything - even cruelty - just to feel human again.

*A story set between s1 and s4, looking at Jon's relationship with touch, friendship, and his own humanity.

T | Words: 6,540 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

I'll bring the motion by callmearcturus

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

(based on this amazing art by linecrosser)

T | Words: 3,127 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

thanks for the company by lukeskqwalker

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin had been baffled by how easily he spilled his guts out to this odd stranger. Now, Martin is more baffled by the baggy My Chemical Romance t-shirt he's wearing, paired with tasteful plaid pajama bottoms.

Or, Martin gets a visitor in his dreams. Reliving the same 14 days of loneliness every night isn't as bad when you have company.

T | Words: 4,314 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

stranger, stranger by blueskiddoo

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Sure,” Georgie says, still laughing at him. At least someone is having fun. “Don’t you have assistants for that kind of thing?”

“Yes, but…” He huffs, scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t going to ask one of them to download an app called...Lover? Lov-rrr? I don’t know how you say it.” He flaps his hands dismissively. “There are--unions and such. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

*

jon makes a fake account on a dating app to investigate a statement. tim sets martin up with fake account on a dating app to boost his self-confidence. it goes exactly how you might expect.

G | Words: 36,771 | Chapters: 11/11

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Have you got anywhere to stay?” Jon asks him, briskly. “Friends, acquaintances, maybe, who you could stay with…?”

Martin flushes, deeply. “I, I mean— n-no, not really,” he stammers, and then goes even redder. “Or, just, y’know not that I’d want to, to. Put in the middle of this. Put in danger of, of worms.”

“Ah,” Jon says, “No, of course, that makes sense.” Why drag anyone else into this mess? Seven people died during Prentiss’s initial hospitalization; the collateral damage of roping someone from outside the Institute into her orbit doesn’t bare thinking about. “In that case…” Jon feels like there’s some alternative solution, one he’s just not thinking of at the moment, but it evades him, and Martin needs somewhere safe to stay. “My couch is quite comfortable. You’re welcome to come and stay with me until you figure something else out.”

Martin is held hostage by Jane Prentiss for two weeks, and can't go back to his flat. Jon offers him a place to stay until Prentiss and her worms can be dealt with, and they can be sure he's safe.

T | Words: 65,951 | Chapters: 19/19

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

true kinda love by Did

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

So. Martin isn't expecting anything to happen. But then, one day, something...does happen. It happens when Martin is passing Jon in the hall, and stops to ask how he’s doing, because Jon always looks a little bit like hell these days, and it makes Martin feel like he has to do something, and useless small talk is pretty much all he can do, so that’s what he does. And instead of grunting or shrugging or mumbling something dismissive, Jon replies, with perfect, involuntary clarity, "Every part of me aches, and I would just about kill to have someone rub my shoulders right now."

There's a positively deafening silence as they both come to grips with this unprecedented turn of events. Then they both start talking at once.

"Ah," says Jon.

"Wow," says Martin, at the same time.

G | Words: 5,053 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

hey stranger by ennuijpg

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker

It’s a late night Tesco run, how eventful could it be? It’s not like Martin is going to run into his boss who’s wearing something absurdly different from usual and get the most acute form of whiplash possible from seeing him, right?

(Based on this post about alt jon on tumblr because it's all I've been thinking about of late.)

T | Words: 2,701 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Sun-kissed by Rauchendes_GNU

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner

Martin doesn’t have any freckles. Jon has watched him and the others for a while now, and he knows that everyone has freckles. Tim is absolutely covered in them, and he seems to get more and more every day as Sasha seems very determined to kiss every part of Tim that is not yet covered in tiny dark spots.

Everyone has been loved by someone at some point. Everyone has been kissed, no matter if a platonic peck on the cheek or a heated kiss on the mouth. Everyone but Martin, it seems.

Or: Jon realises Martin has never been kissed. He rectifies that right away.

T | Words: 3,407 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

skin deep by isthepartyover

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker & Jonathan Sims

“Hello, Martin Blackwood speaking.”

“Oh thank god-” a woman’s voice answered, rushed and panicked, and Martin immediately closes the folder he was leafing through absent-mindedly and snaps his head towards the door. “Sorry, oh god, I’m Georgie, I’m Jon’s friend, I don’t know what to do-”

(au where georgie calls martin post burn)

M | Words: 3,125 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Take Care of You (And I'll Take Care of Me) by Mad_Maudlin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

When Martin Blackwood met the new research assistant, his heart skipped a beat. Too bad Jonathan Sims seems to hate him.

(A soulmates AU)

M | Words: 20,386 | Chapters: 6/6

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Somebody That I Used to Know by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner (background), Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker

(Minor) SPOILERS FOR MAG 161!!!

Jon gets replaced by the Not!Them. Life goes on.

T | Words: 6,358 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a six-step process by bluejayblueskies

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin stands next to him on the train. His hand rests just beneath Jon’s where it grips one of the metal poles, and Martin takes care not to brush against him despite how crowded the car is. Jon considered telling Martin, when they first got on the tube, that it was okay—that his touch would be… well, it wouldn’t be bad. Not like Nikola's. But he’d stayed silent, allowing Martin to cultivate a careful space between them. They’ve been silent for the past twenty minutes as they’ve passed by station after station on their way to Martin’s flat in Brixton.

Jon adds 24 hours onto his mental countdown of the time he has left until he’s allowed to break down and tells himself that he can manage. It’s… important to have goals, he thinks. He splits this one into steps.

Step one: get to Martin’s flat without crying.

Part 2 of touch prompts

T | Words: 2,138 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

who's there? by bubonickitten

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Jon has a panic attack after Elias shows him exactly what happened behind the door after Mr. Spider took its victim.

Martin helps him calm down, and Jon tells him the story of his first Leitner.

Part 2 of thresholds

T | Words: 6,139 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Clothes Have No Gender by kristsune

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Jon wears a skirt to the Institute for the first time, and gets reactions he hadn't expected.

NR | Words: 1,846 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

northwest 6 to gale 8. rain. poor, occasionally good. by chewsdaychillin

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

A voicemail made up of a female robot and Jon’s professional work tone tells him to leave a message, but Martin hangs up before the beep. He’s not even sure he can speak, let alone put this into words.

‘Hi Jon, sorry to call at four fifty-two AM. My mum just died and I don’t know what to do or how to feel. Call me back when you can! Love you, bye!’

AUish where Jon is alive when Martin's mum passes away, helps him grieve and heal (and they maybe admit to being in love)

Part 1 of northwest 6 to gale 8

M | Words: 35,828 | Chapters: 9/9

Scottish Safehouse Period

∘₊✧────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Resigned, Though Not to Fate by inkfingers_mcgee

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“You’re really suggesting this,” Martin says, voice pulled thin.

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“You would- actually do it?”

“I would.”

“With me.”

“Yes, Martin.”

“Why?” Because love is blind, says something cliché and cruel in the pit of his gut. Christ, he never was much of a poet, was he?

Or,

When Jon asks Martin to Quit the Archives with him, Martin says yes. Things don't go as planned. In the Scottish Highlands, they hurt, and they heal.

(Re-written as of 22-12-27; see chapter 9 for more info.)

T | Words: 145,748 | Chapters: 9/9

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

nor any more youth or age than there is now by Ravenesta

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The local Primary school has a new teacher. He is, to say the very least, odd.

A series of statements regarding the interactions of the townsfolk with one Jonathan Sims, never formally given.

T | Words: 6,512 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

There's a 15th Fear, and it's Teenagers by captloverboy

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King & Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood & Basira Hussain, Basira Hussain & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Helen | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Helen | The Distortion & Basira Hussain, Helen | The Distortion & Martin Blackwood

What if Jonah didn't ruin everything? Didn't send the end of everything statement? What do Jon and Martin do now? Get a job, I guess. A teaching job, for Jon, though it was hardly his first pick. But sometimes your boyfriend looks *really* excited when he suggests it, and I mean, you know literally everything. It can't be that bad, right? Right?

T | Words: 26,140 | Chapters: 14/14

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

the Teacher from the Magnus Archives by Athina_Blaine

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Hey, everyone, welcome back to my channel. My name is Maggie Abernathy and today we will be continuing our investigation of the, uh, eldritch monster slash English teacher who calls itself Jonathan Sims.”

-

Maggie is determined to catch Mr. Sims via her channel, and then everyone would see how cool and smart she was, right?

T | Words: 5,993 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Please Don't Tease Me Like You Did Before by bazemayonnaise

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin is grinning at his phone when Jon comes home. This is not an unusual occurrence, but Jon can sense that the particularly smug smile being levelled at him means that whatever is entertaining the man has something to do with Jon.

“Yes?” he asks once he has dumped the day at the door. “What have I done now?”

Part 1 of Jon and Martin teach at a Scottish Catholic School

G | Words: 5,380 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

beloved of jon by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Oh,” says Jon, numbly. “You don’t. Remember? Um. It’s complicated. What… what do you remember?”

Martin seems to shrink in on himself a little. It hurts to watch, especially after how Jon’s seen him so painstakingly grow back into his openness over the past few weeks.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t – I don’t.”

“But you remember me?” says Jon, and he tries to keep as much feeling out of that question as he can.

---

For no reason that Jon can tell, Martin forgets.

T | Words: 12,739 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

every good intention (is interpretation) by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

They’re standing entirely too close to each other in front of the hotel desk when the clerk asks them whether they’d like a double, twin, or two singles, and Martin absolutely bottles it.

‘Uh,’ he says, at exactly the same time as Jon says, ‘Oh.’

———

There’s a conversation that Martin and Jon need to have after the Lonely. Unfortunately, they are - historically - fairly terrible at putting stuff into words.

G | Words: 11,227 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

These words that make a home in my chest by arthureameslove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

The moment Martin leaves the Lonely is the moment he realizes that it has taken something from him. He is left with the realization that the Lonely fog had been the only thing keeping him whole, keeping him from feeling the aching hollows of his own sorrow.

Speaking makes it worse, so he doesn't. He almost expects Jon to leave, to grow tired of him, incomplete as he is. But Jon doesn't.

Or, Martin is mute after leaving the Lonely, and he and Jon learn how to be people again, together, in the comfort of the Scottish Highlands.

T | Words: 16,060 | Chapters: 7/7

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

T | Words: 15,864 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

i’m almost me again, you’re almost you by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

G | Words: 12,928 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

T | Words: 6,027 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Diary by luftballons99

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Part 1 of showing your hand

T | Words: 5,178 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

M | Words: 4,662 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

ready to call this love by yewgrove

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Part 1 of it is what you have.

G | Words: 5,650 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? by pantsoflobster

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Jon,” Martin said. “I have made a grave mistake.”

Jon whipped his head up, nearly tossing the elastic from his messy bun. “What? What’s wrong? What--what did you do?”

“I... might have invited guests for dinner.”

Jon stared blankly. “What, here?”

“Seeing as this is where we live at the moment, yes.”

---

In which a week in the safehouse turns into a fake-married sitcom, because they deserve to worry about social ineptitude instead of the apocalypse for a minute

Part 1 of this is not the house that pain built

T | Words: 5,391 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Bergamot, Buckskin, and Lace by Qpenguin98

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Jon's never been a touchy person.

T | Words: 3,061 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

be kind, i beg you by gauras

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“Fine,” Jon says, and he tries to ignore the sulky tone of his voice, “fine. What do you suggest?”

Martin pauses, like he’d not expected Jon to give in so easily. Jon’s never been particularly agreeable, but he still feels vaguely offended by the blatant surprise. “W-we,” Martin stammers, clears his throat, continues on much more confidently, “we go in together.”

Or: it takes close quarters and a full 24 hours to finally get them on the same page.

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

T | Words: 14,946 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

tides turning by gauras

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

There's more than one way to say I love you.

T | Words: 20,858 | Chapters: 1/1

Other Scottish Safehouse Period fics: see unassigned supplementals by bibliocratic in Other

Gen or Background Pairings

∘₊✧────────────────────────────✧₊∘

a deeply annoying child by ajkal2

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, blink-and-you-miss-it Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, BUT NO SLASH WHILE ANYONE IS A CHILD

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

G | Words: 9,631 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Head in the Lion's Mouth by renwhit

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Danny Stoker & Tim Stoker, Danny Stoker & Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Danny Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Past Tim Stoker/Sasha James, Danny Stoker & Helen Richardson, Danny Stoker & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Danny Stoker & Melanie King, Basira Hussain & Tim Stoker, Basira Hussain & Danny Stoker

He fell into a deep bow, smiling the whole while. “I’m the ringmaster, of course.”

“Is that skin— Is it yours?” Old wood groaned as the Archivist shifted his weight. “Originally.”

“It is!” the ringmaster said as he swooped back upright. “Nikola decided I wore it well, so she let me keep it. Why do you ask?”

The Archivist gave him another once-over. “You just… you look familiar. Like someone I know.”

On relearning, reconnecting, and redefining.

Part 1 of Come What May

M | Words: 157,202 | Chapters: 17/17

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

reach inside (to find your heart is beating) by ivelostmyspectacles

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker

This is Tim, opening the door enough for his tired, careworn face to peer through the crack; Jon sees the genuine horror on his face as he takes in his boss, bloody on his doorstep, and he thinks– maybe– he thinks he might be safe here.

“Christ.”

Chapter two added January 17th!

T | Words: 5,774 | Chapters: 2/2

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Fractals Upon Fractals by cedarbranch

No Archive Warnings Apply, Michael & Helen Richardson

“There was never meant to be two of us,” said Helen.

Or: Michael and Helen play a game of chess, and work out what it means exist in duplicate.

G | Words: 1,652 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Other gen fics: see Time is Hard by Serazimei in Time Travel

Time Travel

∘₊✧────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, x2!, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking.

The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him.

"I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

--------

Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

T | Words: 53,319 | Chapters: 12/12

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Déjà Vu by CirrusGrey

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Sasha remembers being unmade.

Tim remembers being Unknown.

Jon and Martin remember being unwound.

All of them think they're the only one.

--------

The S1 crew wakes up in the past with memories up till the moment they died.

T | Words: 37,652 | Chapters: 4/4

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Reflection by LazuliQuetzal

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Emma

Jonathan Sims, researcher at the Magnus Institute, is seeing a ghost. Of himself.

Of course, it’s not really him, no matter what secrets it knows, or how many arguments it brings up. So if it tells him to do something?

Obviously, he’ll be doing the exact opposite.

(AKA: Jon is an idiot, past and future, but somewhere along the way it all cancels out.)

(Expect general spoilers for S4 and specifically, MAG 158.)

T | Words: 51,527 | Chapters: 10/10

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Time is Hard by Serazimei

No Archive Warnings Apply, Michael | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Elias Bouchard & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael Shelley & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael "Mike" Crew & Michael Shelley

The Eye isn't happy with how the end of the world turned out. Neither are Jonah and Jon. There is no other option but to rewind time and go down a different path. But time is hard for The Spiral and The Web likes to meddle.

This is how Jon finds himself back in his eight year old body with all his memories, some of his powers intact and a strange bracelet around his right wrist. Saving the world, Jon realizes soon enough, is much harder when no one takes you seriously.

Part 1 of Diverging Times

M | Words: 170,443 | Chapters: 60/60

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

The Cube Rule of Food Identification by bluejayblueskies

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Martin stands abruptly. His chair spins away from him, wheels squeaking on the cheap lino floor. The tension between him and Jon has reached never-before-seen levels. Tim could probably cut it with a knife. Or a particularly sharp spoon.

Then, Jon lurches forward and half-clambers atop the desk and kisses Martin, and Tim drops his sandwich.

.

Or, season one Jon and Martin receive memories from the future mid-argument, and Tim and Sasha receive emotional whiplash.

T | Words: 1,630 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

a map of what matters most by gruhukens

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“Is that a body,” Tim blurts before he can stop himself, rising to his feet. Martin looks, if possible, even more scared.

“He’s alive!” he hisses, almost defensively. “It’s not - it’s not Gertrude again, I didn’t kill him, he just – I don’t know what happened to him, I just found him in the stacks like this.”

“And you dragged him up here?” Tim says, and then registers several things at once – the build, the hair texture; the little round scars peppering a pair of thin hands and an awfully familiar face. “Wait, is that Jon?”

----

Jon stumbles back into an earlier Archive, looking for a way to fix the world. (Or, mom says it's my turn for the obligatory time travel au)

T | Words: 20,604 | Chapters: 6/6

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) by OllieoftheBeholder

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker

“So...you’re from the future. In the past. Why?”

“You want the short answer or the long one?”

“Short,” Martin says after a moment’s deliberation. “Until I decide if I trust you.”

The other nods, as if he expected that answer—which, well, if he really is Martin from the future, he probably did. “To stop the world from ending.”

They have one last chance to fix this - one last chance to prevent the Eyepocalypse, to save the world - to save their world. It all hinges on which is the greater force: greed...or love.

Part 1 of leaves 'verse

T | Words: 299,536 | Chapters: 60/60

Highly Alternate

Alternate universes will remain in the other categories, but this category is for alterations that are especially notable in their severity. This will also include any fics where Jon has an important alignment with a different fear entity, whether that be instead of the Eye or in tandem

∘₊✧──────────────────────��────✧₊∘

The Witch's Cat by Champagne

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

“That’s the Witch’s cat,” Tim says, and grins at Martin. “Jonathan Sims, the town’s Witch, said that he’ll marry anyone that manages to get the key from the cat’s collar.”

G | Words: 12,584 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

What Belongs to the Sea by TwoDrunkenCelestials, WhyNotFly

No Archive Warnings Apply, Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

“My grandmother taught me about selkies,” said the tattooed man. “Said it’s good luck for them to grace your ship. To treat ‘em right, and they’ll guide you safe.”

It had seemed like a reasonable thing to believe.

M | Words: 126,367 | Chapters: 36/36

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

school's out for the summer by kiaronna

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Various Background Relationships, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas

The thing is, Jonathan Sims is someone you’d call the police on if you saw him hanging around a school, those frazzled clothes and bags under his eyes, the frantic muttering and thousand-year stare.

Yet there he sits, headteacher of The Magnus Institute for Gifted Young Minds.

The name’s a bit misleading, it is. They’re in a bad part of town. The parents are either terrible or absent, and the kids—

“They’re monsters,” his new and handsome coworker grins, when Martin’s signature on his contract is barely dry. “Absolute monsters. Get too close and you’ll lose some fingers. Or maybe your mind.”

“They’re babies,” is all Martin can feebly manage, in reply, and Tim’s eyes narrow at the fondness in his voice.

“You’ll learn.”

T | Words: 26,088 | Chapters: 2/2

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

No Archive Warnings Apply, Jonathan Sims & Simon Fairchild, Jonathan Sims & Michael "Mike" Crew, Jonathan Sims & Gerard Keay, Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

T | Words: 59,336 | Chapters: 7/7

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

rituals by doomcountry

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

T | Words: 8,492 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

ships passing in the night by Zykaben

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Tim meets and befriends the new professor on the staff, Jonathan Sim. Tim has also been casual friends with Martin Blackwood for the past year.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Tim to realize that the two of them are married to each other.

T | Words: 5,027 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

all the flowers of all the tomorrows by ivelostmyspectacles

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker & Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims

Martin owns a flower shop.

He starts crushing on the guy from the Magnus Institute, but why does Jon keep needing so many flowers for workplace deaths, anyway??

T | Words: 13,745 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

The Good Ol' Days by SingingInTheRaiin

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

When Jon moves in with his grandmother he becomes fast (if somewhat reluctant) friends with one of the neighborhood kids, a boy named Martin.

Years later, they find each other again at the Magnus Institute, and whatever mysteries they uncover there, they will solve them together.

T | Words: 107,489 | Chapters: 40/40

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

How Particular, My Fondness of You by cedarbranch

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Jon risks a glance over to Georgie, expecting sympathy, or perhaps a grave expression of solidarity. Instead, he’s met with a fond smile. “Oh, Jon,” she says patiently, reaching over to rub his back. “You poor thing. You’re lovesick.”

Jon recoils. “I am not,” he says accusingly.

-

A college AU in which the whole gang works at the library, Jon is emotionally repressed, and the anonymous Facebook page knows all.

Part 2 of Magnolia Verse

T | Words: 29,263 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

because light reverses, because the dead return by 1248, Tiili97

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

"Very well then, officer, take me away. And Martin?"

"Yes, Elias?"

Elias opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again with a shake of his head.

"Actually, never mind. I will see how it plays out."

Martin let out an annoyed sigh as Elias left. Always so goddamn cryptic.

Hopefully Jon and the others would be back soon to make sense of things.

-

Here's a hypothetical question: What would happen if no one noticed that Jonathan Sims survived the Unknowing?

What if they looked at his stopped heart and still lungs and decided he was dead?

What happens when you bury an Archivist?

T | Words: 9,491 | Chapters: 5/5

Gerrymichael

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

Echo Chamber by orphan_account

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley

“Look, if you’re another, uh, avatar of a horrible eldritch demon god come to assassinate me in a spooky manner, could you get it over with quickly? I haven’t eaten all morning and I’m starving.”

The thing that calls itself Michael stares.

“And this sandwich cost most of my weekly salary,” Gerry adds after a belated moment.

Part 1 of Spirals and Eyes

T | Words: 21,439 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Break Me Like A Pattern by TheLibraryBat

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay & Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Gertrude Robinson & Michael Shelley

The year is 2011. Michael Shelley is living his life in circles, blissfully unaware of the betrayal that awaits him in the summer. Gertrude Robinson has plans to enact and plans to destroy. Emma Harvey is hiding a book in the dark place at the back of a cupboard.

When Gerard Keay walks into the Magnus Institute - two years sooner than he was meant to - everything changes.

This is an (eventual) Archivist Michael AU, exploring how certain events might have played out, had one key player been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Part 1 of Archivist Michael AU

M | Words: 215,290 | Chapters: 40/40

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Choke Chain by dramatispersonae

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/The Distortion

Things Gertrude Robinson possesses: decades of experience killing, containing, and otherwise thwarting supernatural beings, an uncompromising drive to destroy the Rituals and the people who would see them completed, Gerry's loyalty. Things Gertrude Robinson apparently also possesses: a monster on a magic leash.

NR | Words: 14,814 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Make Me Feel Like I'm Lost by dramatispersonae

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/MichaelGerard Keay/The Distortion

Gerry meets a door that is not a door. And a person that is not a person. Remarkably, he does not get eaten. He would probably like to keep it that way. (Or, in the process of trying to avoid death by nightmare hallway, Gerard Keay accidentally charms the nightmare hallway)

Part 1 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 11,963 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Fill The Gap Between You And I by dramatispersonae

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Michael, like a cat, expresses affection with gifts of dead things. Gerry's trying not to be in the business of collecting strays.

Part 2 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 7,377 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

The Life Of Letting Go by dramatispersonae

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Gerry suffers a workplace injury. Michael has concerns.

Part 3 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 3,235 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Fever Dreaming by dramatispersonae

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion

Gerry encounters a plot by a nascent avatar of the Corruption. It should be straightforward enough to deal with, especially considering his apparently ongoing... "alliance" with Michael. But when have things in his life actually been as simple as they appear?

Part 4 of As One Door Closes

NR | Words: 42,284 | Chapters: 5/5

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Please Don’t Eat the Flowers by Sloane

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael | The Distortion, Razor/Wendy, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Instead of retiring to open a book shop, Gerry ends up working at a flower shop run by American lesbians in London. This leads to a brush with the Distortion, who just wants to buy some lilies, the Magnus Institute finding out he’s still alive, and... well, a normal life was never really in the cards for the likes of Gerard Keay, was it?

Oh, and those lesbians who run the flower shop? There’s more to them than meets the eye—bad Beholding pun intended.

(No knowledge of Maniac Mansion required; I take lots of liberties to slot it into TMA’s universe. UNDER MAJOR REVISIONS. Please see last chapter if you’re a new/returning reader for details..)

M | Words: 77,314 | Chapters: 33/?

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Ode to Joy: or, michael distortion's guide to naming yourself by fromthepinnacletothepit

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley

Michael Shelley is sacrificed to the Spiral before he has the chance to come out, even to himself. Now, as an avatar of the Spiral, his identity is even MORE painful and confusing. Alone and filled with pain he doesn't even know how to name, he searches for acceptance in the one person who ever really knew him-Gerry Keay.

***

“What do you want to be called then,” Gerry says and wraps his arms around Michael’s back.

This conversation hurts. This question hurts. Everything hurts, so long as no one knows about his gender, so long as he has to go on being someone he’s not, someone he just can’t be anymore. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand it.

“I dunnooooo,” he says, grinning, but inside he knows his name isn’t Michael. It’s just not. He doesn’t have a name. He never has. And it’s absence is like a hole in his chest.

The creature that might as well be called Michael, it supposes, if you have to call it anything, thinks about this conversation while it sits on the ceiling of its hallway and slowly digs grooves into the plaster with its fingers.

Gerry, it thinks desperately. I have to find Gerry.

G | Words: 14,513 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Save That Heart for Me by cedarbranch

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael

Gerry has just filled up his mug with coffee when it hits him. It’s a faint but sharp pain, zinging through his left wrist. He exhales a puff of laughter. That’s the third time this week. Whoever his soulmate is, they’re having a rough time.

T | Words: 5,577 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

call me your harbor by insertcleveracejoke

No Archive Warnings Apply, Gerard Keay/Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay/Michael

There was the matter of the owner. It could not be said that most people, when asked about their mental picture of what the owner of a bookstore should look like, would answer angry-looking goth covered in burn scars from the neck down.

He also had a terrible dye job.

Or: five times Michael went to Gerry's domain for help, and one time the opposite happened.

Part 1 of the bookstore AU

NR | Words: 4,488 | tChapters: 1/1

Other

Fic types I have not read enough of to lend it its own category. If I read more fics of its type, it'll be moved to a new category

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

unassigned supplementals by bibliocratic

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

Oneshot #54: home improvement: or: Jon and Martin vs. IKEA

Oneshot #55: united front: or: Martin helps Jon with his statement hunger . (Set 159/160)

Oneshot #56: evolution: or: There is an uneasy alliance at first, between Jon and the Archivist

(Short TMA JonMartin one-shots, individual warnings in chapter notes, now with a fully-functioning contents page)

G | Words: 73,687 | Chapters: 56/56

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

onto a vast plain by yewgrove

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims

The world ends. They get married.

Part 2 of it is what you have.

T | Words: 10,313 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊🌟───────────────────────────🌟₊∘

Out There, Somewhere by Artyphex

No Archive Warnings Apply, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

"I'm sorry, you were found alone."

Jon survived the apocalypse and now will go to the end of this new, unfamiliar world to find Martin again.

T | Words: 54,080 | Chapters: 8/8

∘₊🌟────────────────────���──────🌟₊∘

enemy of my enemy by beeclaws

Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker

Jon comes back from his time with the Circus a little worse for wear. Tim has some feelings about that.

M | Words: 6,263 | Chapters: 4/4

Updates

∘₊✧───────────────────────────✧₊∘

a map of what matters most by gruhukens added to Time Travel - Mar. 8, 2024

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall) by OllieoftheBeholder added to Time Travel - Mar. 8, 2024

How Particular, My Fondness of You by cedarbranch added to Highly Alternate - Mar. 18, 2024

call me your harbor by insertcleveracejoke added to Gerrymichael - Mar. 18, 2024

tides turning by gauras added to Scottish Safehouse Period - Mar. 18, 2024

a six-step process by bluejayblueskies added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

who's there? by bubonickitten added to England Jonmartin-centic - Mar. 18, 2024

because light reverses, because the dead return by 1248, Tiili97 added to Highly Alternate - Mar. 18, 2024

Clothes Have No Gender by kristsune added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

northwest 6 to gale 8. rain. poor, occasionally good. by chewsdaychillin added to England Jonmartin-centric - Mar. 18, 2024

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Called to Duty 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The bank is as ever anxiety inducing. On pay day, you go down to cash your check then give most of it right back, parsing it out for your various expenses. At the end of it, you have even less than the month before. You don't get it. Thing's only seem to get worse; not just money, but your body. Every day you wake up, you feel even more crummy than the last. 

Your hopes of a treat at the cafe are dashed. You give a longing look as you walk by and peer through the window. You can smell cinnamon and coffee. You're strict non-caffeinated, doctor's orders, but a decaf would be amazing with one of those cinnamon buns. Ugh, damn, why are you torturing yourself? 

You turn to continue down the street but barely dodge out of the way of another pedestrian. He makes sure you can't pass as he mirrors you, sidestepping to block your way. You sigh as you step back and look Sy in the face. For a big man, he sure can sneak up on you. 

"Hey," he flips up his dark sunglasses, "how're you feeling?" 

You stare up at him defiantly, not quite bold enough to glare. He hasn't done anything wrong, he's just persistent. It isn't his fault he reminds you of that spoiled deadbeat. Or that your emotions are volatile, one moment teary eyed, the next blazing hot with rage. 

"Fine, thanks for asking," you shrug, "Sy, I gotta--" 

"I owe you a cookie," he points to the cafe window at his shoulder. 

You blink. You remember the cracked shortbread. You forgot about that. The mention of the sugary treat makes your stomach growl and your mouth water. 

"No, you don't--" 

"I do," he insists, "I don't like to carry 'round debts. Let me buy you one." 

"I got it free," you say, "it's not a big deal." 

"It is to me," he counters, "I was heading in anyway." 

You stare at him. You really don't get this man. You're no longer so sure that Thor sent him to check up on you, not since your last interaction. In fact, the wingman seemed more spiteful of him than you. You look across the steeet to the pharmacy then back at him. The aromas wafting out with each swing of the door have you ravenous.  

"I can't stay long, I gotta work," you say. 

His cheeks twitch, as if he tamps back a smile before it can bloom, "after you." 

He gesture behind you to the door. You turn and lead the way. He reaches past you to open the door before you can and you enter ahead of him. The din within is lively and the air is warm from the crowd and the employees steaming out orders behind the counter. 

"Wanna find a seat?" He suggests, "you should rest." 

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. You'd rather not stand in the clustered line. You nod and head off to claim the table by the window. There isn't much left. 

You pull out the chair and brace your back as you sit with a sigh. You glance over and find Sy watching you as he stands in the queue. His gaze makes you want to wilt, instead you turn your attention out the window. 

Not even Thor looked at you like that. Don't be silly. Sy is just being a dutiful guy, helping out the town slut in her time of need. You won't be duped. Not when you can hear your name being twisted on tongues at that very moment. 

You sit and wait, wring the strap of your small purse. You watch the street. If it wasn't for the people, Hammer Ford would be serene. 

A plate clinks in front of you and a porcelain mug as well. It isn't a cookie and you can smell the herbal tea's rosy flavour. You peer up at Sy as he gives an apologetic look. 

"Cookies are still baking so I got you a cinnamon bun," he says. 

"And tea?" You add. 

"Can't have one without the other," he says, "no coffee for you." 

"Yeah, I... I know." 

You could laugh. He suggested before he's been reading things about pregnancy. You just can't picture him with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.  

"Thank you," you smile as best you can. 

"Gotta get mine, be back," he excuses himself and marches back to the counter. 

You look down at the gooey iced draped spiral. You really shouldn't. Not only accept his misspent generosity but indulge in the excess sugar. Yet your hormones won't let you resist. You can at least wait until he's sitting down. 

He returns with a black coffee and a rather colourful donut. They don't match. Bitter and sweet all at once. He sits and takes off his hat and sunglasses. 

You put your purse to the edge of the table and rest your hand on your stomach, doing your best to resist the animalistic need to tear apart the dessert. His eyes follow the movement and you quickly drop your arm. You don't even think when you do it, it's just a habit. 

"You-" he begins. 

"Wh--" you find your voice at the same time. 

You both stop, hesitant. He nods and gestures to you, lifting his cup as he watches you intently. That's new too. Thor never listened much, only talked a lot. Besides, you weren't exactly together for the conversation. 

"Sy," you clear your throat and sit forward as much as you can, "why are you following me around?" 

His brows form a vee, "I'm... it's not... I'm tryna help." 

"Okay, but why?" 

His eyes flick up to the ceiling and his cheek ticks as he gives the question genuine thought. When he looks at you again, his face is set, "because I want to." 

"You want to?" 

"Yes, I'd like to take care of you. And the little one, if you'll let me." 

You can't help your snort, "we hardly know each other." 

"Isn't for lack of trying," he taps his fingers on his mug. "Aren't ya gonna try the bun?" 

"I will," you assure him. He's trying to distract you and it's close to working. The cinnamon is driving you mad. "A baby is a lot of work and... I'm not your responsibility. I know Thor is your friend." 

"Was," he interjects.  

"Sure," you accept his decisive declaration, "but that doesn't mean you have to worry about his mistakes." 

"Mistakes? I don't think so," he says. 

"Well, it's not exactly planned," you scoff, "Sy, really I don't feel right about you doing so much." 

"Wouldn't feel right not doing it," he shrugs his burly shoulders. 

“But why?” You nearly exclaim. You just want to know why he cares so much, about you? 

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “they talk about me too, ya know? Since I got back from... serving. They say I’m f—crazy, or whatever. It wasn’t easy or nothin’ over there but I’m not nuts. Not like they say. Just like you’re not some slut, forgive me for saying it out loud.” 

You look down at the table and exhale. So he hears as much as anyone else about you. At least he’s honest. At least he isn’t joining them. You purse your lips and reach for the cinnamon bun, unable to restrain yourself any longer. 

“For what it’s worth,” you raise your eyes to meet his, “I never thought you were... unwell, or whatever they say.” 

His cheeks pinch, another suppressed smile, and he tilts his head, “I’m only happy to hear you think of me.” 

[activesplooger]

ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇ | ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ | ᴠᴏx x ᴀꜱꜱɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Notes: (MDNI) don't be afraid to give me feedback on this one! (grammar, criticism, wtvr u notice!). idk wtf im doing but it took a long time and like 200 redo's. enjoy!!!

Summary: Years later. The aftermath of the 'incident'. CW: angst, mistreatment of workers, abuse of power, vox being an ass, fluff if u squint, confrontation, lot of exposition sorry lol, Word Count: 2,217 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterpost!

Years later... The Vee's empire grew exponentially and are now the three top overlords in hell. As they grew, they upgraded and relocated to a new gaudy building called the "Vee Tower" which's big enough for all 3 members to reside and do their business. Vox now had a similar, but still new, upgrade to his head. His flat-screen face glows blue and has red almond-shaped eyes. The left eyelid of his is black, like his eyebrows, while his right eyelid is a bright teal, like his teeth. He wears a navy blue and teal striped blazer with matching navy slacks. A grand ruby bowtie tied around his neck, just above the red and black dress shirt he now wore. And to top it all off, he wore a top hat and a charismatic smile.

You still worked for Vox, however, your job description changed over the next few years. You went from being introduced as “This is Y/N, my friend and assistant!” to “This is an employee of mine, she won’t be a bother.”. It was agitating that he started to distance himself from you. I mean, you save his fucking life and let him weep in your arms like a child and this is the thanks you get?!

Vox had also acquired a reputation being a friendly, charismatic, entrepreneur. What a load of bullshit. His media persona was all a facade, a scam to get people to buy his products and/or work for him. You feel bad for the newer employees who deal with Vox's wrath. At least for you, you could cling to the old version of him and have some sort of positive outlook on your boss. The new staff members didn't have any outlook on their boss besides terror and apprehension. They would simply get charmed into a job and then see how Vox's personality does a fucking 180, turning into a complete jackass as soon as their soul was his. Your boss is cold to all his employees, abusing his power over them just for a power trip, a reminder of where they stand in this company. If an employee made one mistake, they'd immediately called to Vox's office for the shakedown of their life. Fucking terrifying.

The whole company shifted into a mess of moral corruption. All of VoxTech’s advertisements were schemes to hypnotize you into craving their products. Manipulation is a key tactic at VoxTech. If people watch any of the programs controlled by the company, they’ll likely hear the phrase ‘Trust us’ more often than not. And in turn, If they hear it enough, they’ll start to believe it. That’s what lured people in, making VoxTech and trust synonymous with each other until ultimately, they buy their shit. Pretty subtle tactic compared to the others. Other ways included Vox straight-up hypnotizing people with his powers. Yet another astounding example of the great morals exemplified by your boss!

Some part of you wished you never helped him that day... you hated yourself for thinking that. In spite of how shitty he is, you missed him. Not the fake media version, or the shitty boss version, the old him. The real Vox. You'd find yourself reminiscing on the late work nights you had with him. He'd order takeout, and you'd help him with his work for hours on end until you'd fall asleep at your desk from fatigue. You never failed to wake up with a crick in your neck from the cramped position, but you always had a familiar coat swaddled around your shoulders. It was the little moments with him that meant a lot. Back when he wasn't so hostile. It was starting to get on your nerves. Seeing your boss- no- seeing your old friend become a jaded prick all because of some excessively red deer fucker?! You knew Alastor hurt him, and yeah, it's understandable to be a little messed up after it... But didn't he really have to take it out on everyone else?! 'Why couldn't he just be honest and talk about what happened?! Why the fuck did he forbid you from speaking about it?!'. These questions rang in your head for years. But you could never ask him... Could you? You definitely weren’t a pushover, but you also weren’t a dumbass. As much as you wish it weren’t true, Vox had the upper hand and a mean temper. However, at this point, you were at the end of your rope. You needed answers, just... maybe not now. Soon. Maybe? Fuck! No matter how much you refused to admit it, he terrified you. You knew he could end you in an instant, he made that very clear when he nearly choked you to death. By now the bruises faded, obviously, but the emotional scars were very much there... You don't forget nor forgive what Vox did to you. So much was left unsaid that day and remains unsaid, you still can't really process it all. You tried to make excuses for what happened, something to console you and give you some sort of reason for everything. The blame always fell on Alastor, which, you felt was true to at least some degree. Your theories aren't enough to soothe your troubled thoughts. It still nagged at you, it always did. If there was some way for you to obliviate this, you would done it have a long time ago.

And the cherry on top of it all is the fact that you have to see him every day and pretend like nothing ever happened. Your workplace serves as a constant reminder of what happened, you couldn't possibly get yourself to stop thinking about it. Every fiber of your being just wanted you to call him out and pry into every detail of what happened with Alastor- But you held back... Part of you felt he would hurt you... again... As much as you want answers, being hurt and possibly killed over it definitely isn't worth it.

--

Your heels clicked on the black flooring as you walked to Vox's office. Vox had previously emailed you to bring him some paperwork for some new employees who were recently hired. You carried the heavy stack of documents in your hands, your arms begging for relief. Couldn’t these have been digital like everything else? You could’ve sworn he did this just to make things harder for you. Prick. The path to his desk was long and narrow, with sharks swimming around beside it. A large circular platform that held Vox’s desk and various monitors accompanied by heaps of cords and cables ended the path. From a distance, you can see your boss berating another employee. The worker cowered on the ground beside the desk as Vox loomed over him, a scowl etched across his face. You increase your pace to his desk in an attempt to shorten the eyesore in front of you. "Let me get this straight," The TV demon inches closer "You want to waste M҉Y̴ time M҉Ɏ money, MɎ-". "I-I just want some time off, Mr. Vox," the trembling staff member interrupts "I-It's my wife and I's anniversary I-I just need a couple hours-". A teal blue collar takes shape around the worker's neck, you couldn't believe the sight before you. Rage and pent-up strain filled your core, it killed you to see him doing this to someone else. Right in front of you no less. Your breathing becomes shallow, the memory of Vox choking you haunting your brain as you see another employee going through what you did. Should you stop it? Would that only make things worse? Fuck- 'Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout'. That phrase repeats in your head like a mantra, you need to get the fuck out of there. You couldn't stand being there any longer.

Large teal claws grasp at the end of the leash attached to the collar, pulling the chain closer as Vox speaks. "ɎØ҉U҉ ŁƗSŦɆN ĦɆɌɆ ɎØ҉U҉ F҉U҉ȻꝀƗNǤ-". The slam of papers cuts off Vox, he whips his head to the sound only to find you walking out of the office in a huff. Tears welled up in your eyes. 'Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout'. Pushing the doors open you run out, tears falling down your cheeks as you struggle to catch your breath. You turn the corner and slump against the nearest wall, burying your head in your knees and unsteady sobbing.

After you left, Vox just stares at the door you stormed through. The chain vanishes from his grip, and his hands fall to his side as longing and regret cross his features. Your boss's mind was so preoccupied with you leaving that he didn't notice the employee scurrying out the door. Once he realized that he let the worker off the hook, he didn't call him back. No. He let him go. Vox had bigger things to deal with. You.

Whilst you lay there, slumped against the wall, you feel something drape over your shoulders. But, when you lift your head, you don't see anyone, only a blue zap darting up to a security camera. You furrow your eyebrows and turn your head to see what was draped over your back. Your eyes are met with a navy blue and teal striped blazer comfortably enveloping your shoulders. "...Vox?" --

For a few hours, you clutched onto the jacket as you sobbed, but, eventually, you had to suck it up and work. And return the jacket. Fuck. That's gonna be awkward... 'I can't just keep it, can I?' you thought as you grabbed the jacket and made your way to his office, bracing yourself for the uncomfortable conversation ahead.

You quietly make your way over to Vox's desk, his eyes fixed on the monitors in front of him, not noticing you. "Sir?". "Gah!" Vox springs up out of his chair and nearly falls out of it, "Y/N! What the fuck?!". "Sorry sorry!" you apologize, "I didn't mean to startle you, Sir.". An awkward grin spreads across your face as you hold out the jacket to him "I came to return-" the jacket gets snatched out of your hands "-this". Vox slides the jacket over his black and red dress shirt, "Finally!" he exclaims. You stand there awkwardly after he ripped the blazer out of your hands while Vox just got back to work on his computer. "Can I help you?" Vox questioned with a condescending look on his face. "Hm? Oh! No no, I just wanted to thank you, so- Thank you." A soft smile crossed your features, hoping that this would spark a sincere discussion. Rolling his eyes, he responded with an annoyed tone, "Well, don't. Just accept the gesture and move on, we don't. need. to talk about it."

A scoff escapes your lips, "Typical." you mutter.

“What was that?” Vox eyes bored into yours as he got up to fully face you, his tall stature towering over you.

Normally, you’d back down from a situation like this. You knew that Vox could overpower you in an instant. But something in you just snapped, you couldn't take it any longer. Any fears or doubts you had suddenly disappeared. You just can't take it any longer.

“You heard me” you retort, standing up as straight as possible to try and match his height. Red vexed eyes narrowed at you, staring deeply into your eyes, "If you had any brain in that head of yours you'd back off, Y/N." he barked. The skin over your knuckles pulls taught as you balled your hands into fists, "If you had any brain in that flat head of yours you'd understand why I'm fed up with your shit!" you lashed out, "I swear if I wasn't soul-bound I'd leave your TV ass in an instant!" Vox's crimson eyes widened, he seemed genuinely surprised at your exposure of him, "Excuse me? I've given you ɆVɆɌɎŦĦƗNǤ! You'd be blundering around Hell if I hadn't hired you!" Your eyes practically roll out of your head. "You haven't given me anything besides a daily fucking migraine!" "I will not take this, I'm your superior, Y/N!" your boss blustered, "Or did you forget? Perhaps I should give you a reminder-". The all too familiar teal blue leash starts to materialize in his hands causing a knee-jerk reaction out of you. Your hands instinctively grab the half-embodied chain and yank it to the side.

SNAP!

The two of you stand there, watching in disbelief as the teal links slowly disappear. You're not sure how you managed to stop the soul-leash from fully forming, but you did. Finally prying your eyes off the now absent chain, you look up at Vox. He was still looking down like a deer in the headlights, looking vulnerable and powerless. The sight of him reminds you of the way he looked when he desperately clung to you after his falling out with Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this since then. For the first time in years, he wasn't in control of something. The overlord's voice faltered as he mumbled, "How did-". "I don't know," you responded abruptly. ... Red gleaming eyes lifted to meet yours, "You want to talk? Fine. You've convinced me," he slumps back into his chair, his elbow popping up his head as he looked at you with an exasperated look, "Talk."

--

to be continued! hope u liked this chapterr its the longest of the two. this one took me long as fuck sorry lol i havent had a lot of free time. lmk if u want to be apart of the tag list :) also leave me some feedback in the replies or the ask me anything tab iyw!

COMFORT FROM THE ANGST COMING SOON!

-- TAG LIST:

@lovelyemily, @preppyfellaa

[deliciousangelfestival]

Underworld Insomnia || 1 - B.Barnes

Character : Bucky × Psychiatrist Female!Reader

Summary: As a ruthless contract killer, Bucky is feared in the underworld of criminals. His opponents freeze when they see him, as he is feared among them. However, they don't know that he could be warm to only one person: his pshychiatrist. The only person who could make him fall asleep.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

In the world of secret societies for underground criminals, there's a secret place for criminals to stay, a shop for criminals to buy their weapons, basically, criminals live like normal people but they can only go to places that are built for criminals.

That's the rule.

There's also a particular psychiatrist for criminals only. Since many of the criminals have demons in their minds.

For this job, Dr. Ben is the only person the criminals could go to and ask for advice and medicine so they could go to sleep. Most of them can sleep.

But the only person who has trouble is Bucky Barnes.

His name is enough to make everyone in the underworld shiver. His eyes are enough to make his opponents freeze.

Bucky is their answer if anyone wants a job done without any mistakes.

With the money from the job he finished, he could have a comfortable life for generations. But he doesn't need it because all he wants right now is to sleep.

"I tried what you told me. Work out until I'm tired, learn something new, clean all my weapons, upgrade my car, renovate my house with bulletproofing, sex," Bucky said while he lay on the couch, looking at the ceiling.

Dr. Ben kept writing while listening to his patient.

"I even went to pottery class, baking class, painting class, and sex," Bucky counted on his fingers.

"Still. Nothing works. I still can't sleep. It's been 7 years," Bucky said.

Dr. Ben, who kept writing, replied, "Yeah, you have mentioned sex multiple times."

"White noise, pink noise. In the end, I smashed the Bluetooth speaker. None of your methods work," Bucky said as he sat up and glared at Dr. Ben.

Dr. Ben adjusted his reading glasses. He remained calm, probably one of the few people not afraid even though Bucky was angry.

He clicked his pen and put the report on the table.

"Do you want to try reading fairy tale books?" Dr. Ben asked.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you joking with me?"

Dr. Ben replied, "Most of you people have a shitty childhood. Have shitty parents. Perhaps deep down, your kind wants something related to fulfilling your inner child."

Bucky exclaimed, "Woah, doctor, calm down. You're brutally honest here." He sighed, because he knew this method will failed like the rest. "Fine. I'll try." Then he lay back on the couch and closed his eyes.

Dr. Ben picked a children's book and started to read, he flipped through the pages, and began to read aloud, "Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy."

"Timothy was no ordinary mouse," Dr. Ben continued, "for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

"Stop. Stop. It's so weird listening to you. Get someone else," Bucky interrupted, feeling uncomfortable.

Dr. Ben closed the book. "I'll get my apprentice."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "You've got a new one?" He knew that none of Dr. Ben's employees stayed that long, given the fear of criminals who kept coming for therapy.

Dr. Ben adjusted his glasses. "She could tame Bruce Banner; I think she could do the same to you."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Dr. Ben got up from his seat and opened his office door. "Y/N, help me for a bit," he called out.

Bucky heard a melodious voice respond, "Yes?"

The door swung open, revealing a woman with a confident stride and a calm demeanor. She had striking eyes that seemed to hold a depth of understanding, framed by a cascade of dark hair that fell gracefully around her shoulders.

Her posture exuded poise and assurance, hinting at a quiet strength within. She carried herself in professional attire with an air of authority, yet there was warmth in her expression as she met Bucky's gaze.

As you approach your boss, he suddenly puts a children's book in your hand.

You look at him, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Ben pointed at Bucky and explained, "This person can't sleep for years. So I want to see if reading a children's story could make him fall asleep."

Bucky huffs in frustration. As a top assassin in the underworld, it's humiliating if he can only fall asleep with a children's book. "Just do it."

You flinch, knowing the man in front of you is dangerous.

Dr. Ben pats your shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, he's just cranky. I'll be here too. I need to see if it's working or not."

"Okay," you respond, then sit in the chair near Bucky's couch.

Before opening the book, you can't help but notice the tattoos on his neck and hands.

"Are you done staring?" Bucky asks, irritation evident in his voice.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry," you apologize quickly. "I'll start reading. Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy. Timothy was no ordinary mouse, for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

As you continue reading, Bucky listens intently, his eyes focused on the ceiling as he tries to relax.

"Despite his small size," you continue, "Timothy dreamed of embarking on great adventures and proving himself to be the bravest mouse in all the land."

Bucky's tense expression begins to soften slightly as he listens to the soothing cadence of your voice.

"One day," you narrate, "a fierce dragon threatened the kingdom, causing panic among the inhabitants. But Timothy, undeterred by the danger, volunteered to confront the dragon and save his home."

Bucky's breathing starts to slow down as he gets engrossed in the tale, his earlier restlessness fading away.

"With unwavering courage," you go on, "Timothy faced the dragon, armed only with his wits and determination. And through his bravery and quick thinking, he managed to outsmart the fearsome beast and bring peace back to the kingdom."

As you reach the end of the story, Bucky's eyes grow heavy, and he finally begins to drift off to sleep, a sense of calm settling over him.

Dr. Ben watches silently, nodding in approval as he sees the story's effect on Bucky. It seems that, perhaps, there is power in the simplest of tales to soothe even the most troubled minds.

Bucky's eyes felt heavy. The childish story and your calm voice made him feel relaxed. Your voice seemed more effective than white noise in soothing his troubled mind. As he listened, the tension in his muscles gradually melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.

Then Bucky opened his eyes, only to realize he wasn't in the same place in Dr. Ben's office anymore. He found himself on a bed inside an unknown room. Panic surged through him.

Had he been kidnapped?

It would bring shame to his name as the feared killer if true.

As he processed his surroundings, Bucky's hand instinctively went for his knife, ready to defend himself. But soon, he recognized the familiar surroundings of Dr. Ben's building. Relief washed over him, though he remained on edge.

A door creaked open, causing Bucky to tense, his grip tightening on the knife. But to his surprise, it was just Dr. Ben.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Dr. Ben asked calmly.

Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance and massaged his shoulder. "No. Your methods didn't work. I'm still tired."

"Well, that's natural since you've been asleep for three days," Dr. Ben replied matter-of-factly.

Three days?!

He can't believe it, since he has only been able to sleep for one hour each night for the past seven years. Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief as he checked his phone, seeing the date and numerous missed calls and unread messages.

"It worked?" he muttered, incredulous. He had been able to sleep and hadn't even realized it.

Bucky's amazement lingered as he realized that he had slept for three whole days without even being aware of it. It was a stark contrast to the years of insomnia he had endured, struggling to find even a moment of rest.

The tension that had plagued his body for so long began to ebb away, replaced by a newfound sense of calmness and clarity. He couldn't deny the relief that washed over him, knowing that perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for him yet.

Then, there was a knock on the door. It was you.

"How is he, doctor? Is he still asleep?" you asked, but you gasped when Bucky's intense gaze met yours.

Was he angry? Did he blame you for making him sleep for three days?

"Y/N, is it?" Bucky inquired.

You responded groggily, "Yes?"

Bucky got on his knees, his right hand resting on his left chest and his left hand reaching for you. He looked at you earnestly and asked, "Will you work for me?"

You were taken aback, as was Dr. Ben. Bucky's unexpected gesture felt like it could lead to a significant misunderstanding, resembling a proposal rather than a job offer.

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@xcaptain-winterx

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

@vicmc624

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@mostlymarvelgirl

@musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

@buckybarnessimpp

@charmedbysarge

@almosttoopizza

@sapphirebarnes

@daddysfavoritesexkitten

@rebeccapineapple

@cjand10

@pigeonmama

@almosttoopizza

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[yanderesimp2000]

Yandere vox x Fem reader Vox makes you his Kissing slave (minors will be blocked)

you guys voted on this I was originally just gonna do head canons but I decided to not be a lazy POS and right a full blown story

Warnings kidnapping, Pet names, hypnosis , Vox in himself is a TW, ,collars,elector shocking, non con touching and kissing,Raging TV man boner

first time with vox so feedback is appreciated

My requests are OPEN!!!!!!!!!!!

You worked at VoxTek you were a set designer .you were walking into work that day you didn't like the job but the pay was good but around half way through you day you were approached by one of vox's assistants you and said that Vox was calling you you shivered in fear from what he might do but you walked into his office anyway

Sitting on the couch in his office were the TV demon himself, Vox. He turned to you with a cruel grimace and crossed his arms across his chest. you were scared shitless and whimpered h-hello sir

He looked at you up and down for a moment, as if inspecting you. Vox: “Sit down.” He gestures to the open spot opposite him on the couch. you were still scared but sat down right next to him “Do you know why I called you here?” vox asked in a cruel and malicious manner "n-no sir" you stuttered "Ive noticed you've been falling behind and taking unapproved breaks" vox said in a serious voice You gulped, knowing he was telling the truth. As a junior employee, you did all the dirty work. There was no time for rest. vox then spoke again "And that's not all. It's not the first time you've made mistakes in your work. Do you understand?" His cruel expression was like a dagger in your chest. You were so scared you could barely speak.

you were shaking as you said "im sorry sir it wont happen again " you said in your same stuttery voice "Do you know what happens when an associate makes me lose money?" You shake your head no in response. "they get punished" this scared you shitless and you started begging for forgiveness vox then grinned and uttered

"Do you think that would be enough after you've caused me to lose money?" Vox's stern expression was giving you more pressure, as if he was planning to do something horrible. And the worst part was that you knew what he was capable of. Vox then grinned again and said "now follow me to your new home" you were shocked all you could say was "w-wha" your mind was racing "what does he mean by new home" was all you could think of.He stood up and walked out of the office. He stopped at the door, but without looking back he motioned for you to follow him. You get up out of fear and leave the office, following him. He leads you down the hallway, which seems to take an eternity. Your whole life flashed before your eyes. What did he mean by "new home"? It couldn't mean what you thought it meant. Finally, he comes to the last door at the end of the hallway that leads into his penthouse . He opens it and motions for you to enter. You slowly step into the room, and your body went pale as the door shut behind you and locked automatically. You turned around to look for Vox, and what you saw made your heart start to pound in terror. Vox grabbed something that looked like a metal collar and approached you.

You were to scared to speak just staring frozen in fear you body wanted to move to run to flea but you just could not."This won't hurt. Just don't move too much." vox said sickeningly calm. A cold feeling spread through you as he secured it tightly around your neck. There seemed to be no escape. "please let me go I'm sorry" you blubbered. "You really think I'd just let you go after all this trouble you've caused?" He moved closer to your face, and you could feel him breathing down your neck. "You know...I think you're going to need some more training." a chill went down your spine when he said that vox then giggled and said "you were always a sweetie y'know that right but I couldn't take ya in because it would affect my imigine but now since you messed up people will just think I killed you" He strokes your hair lovingly, showing his caring side as he leans down closer."Your mine now sweetie" you couldn't hold it back anymore you just started sobbing

Vox pulls you into his arms and holds you close, comforting you with his gentle touch. "Shh...don't cry. Don't cry. I'm not going to hurt you." He pulls you close and strokes your hair, soothing you. His embrace was warm and comforting, unlike before. This was a completely different side of him. Vox strokes your hair and caresses your cheeks as you cry softly in his arms. “Don't be scared. You're safe with me…” vox said in a gentle tone He looks down at you, and his expression softens as you continue to cry. All your fears and stress seem to melt away under his touch. as you look up at him into those eyes. he smiles at you, holding you close. You can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. "... You'll be fine... I'll take good care of you..." vox said kindly

Looking into that Spinning little right eye of his made you calm down somehow. He keeps you close and strokes your hair, soothing your worries. His touch is warm and comforting, unlike the coldness you were used to. It felt nice to be held like this, to be held close and be cared for. You hadn't felt this safe in a long time. "... There... There, hush... Don't cry...** It wasn't like the Vox from the office. The Vox who yelled at you and made you fear for your job. This one was gentle and comforting. The contrast couldn't be larger... Vox was against hypnotizing you to love him he was only doing this to make you calm down for him it felt like cheating if he just hypnotized you to love him

"c-can I go home now" you said softly he laughed and said "this is your home silly " you got scared and tried to run to the exit but then the collar on your neck beeped before a wave of electric shock came apon you frying your whole body you squeal in pain. "Aww sweetie did that hurt? " vox said that in a playful tone as if it were a joke. "It was just a little shock " he continues to stroke your hair while giggling as you're still in pain from the electric shock a bit of red drool on his face "You see, sweetie, this collar is to ensure that you obey my commands and never try to run away again." he said sternly "o-o-ok" you said inbetween wincing in pain Vox then smiles at you reassuringly. "Good girl..." he says He then lifts your chin up and looks you in the eyes. "...Don't worry. You're safe in my care now..." he said in a cruel tone

He keeps caressing your hair as you continue to sit there in silence, too terrified to move or breathe."...you shouldn't be so scared you little muffin..." vox teased He then starts to gently kiss you on the cheek "s-stop " you say softly He chuckles in reaction to your answer. "I'm just showing my affection... There's nothing wrong with a few kisses, right..." he said in a firm manner He continues to kiss your cheek as you squirm while holding you close and stroking your hair in a reassuring way. He starts to gently kiss your chin until the kisses get closer and closer to your lips you try to pull away The collar starts to vibrate and beep again, signaling that another shock would be administered if you continued to try and pull away you whimper at the realization that your just gonna have to let this happen Vox's tone then shifts back to a menacing one. "Didn't I tell you? This collar is here to make sure that you obey my command. Now stop fighting me... It will only make it worse for you." You could only tremble in fear as he said that He leans in even closer and presses his lips against yours you winced and softly cried "Just relax..." vox said aroused he continues to kiss you passionately, his hand moving to your waist as he pulls you closer you can feel vox's Raging Boner pressing up against your chest through his suit but he doesn't mention anything about it but he knows He holds you close and his grip around your waist tightens as he kisses you more and more passionately you cant handle it anymore and you try to take off your collar but when you try to do so, the collar started to beep and vibrate. Your body started shaking from the intense pain of the electric shocks shooting through your body. vox giggled and said "See how silly that was? This collar is here to keep you from doing anything stupid. It isn't coming off..." He then started to kiss your neck and the top of your chest. causing you to keep struggling Vox then grabs your hands and pins them to your side. "Please, darling, don't struggle. I don't want to hurt you... but you're really making it difficult to resist." He continued to kiss you on the neck and chest. as you whimpered Each kiss was more passionate than before, getting closer and closer to your collarbone. his slick Blue tounge rubbing around your mouth as you helplessy watched you were just so... powerless "Just relax, my dear I'm almost done" vox said giving you a small amount of hope The kisses slowly get even closer to your chest, and soon his lips land on your collarbone.

Vox then moves his other hand to under your chin and uses it to gently guide your head upwards so that you're looking at him.His eyes are filled with desire as he looks at you, a small smirk appears on his face. The contrast between his gentle, caring side and his cruel side is jarring to see.He then moves his lips away from your collarbone and kisses your cheek. "Just a bit more, and I'll be done. just relax and stay still." your body is screaming at you to wriggle to attack but you know you will get shocked if you do. He slowly moves his lips back to your collarbone. The kisses become even more intense than before, and his hands start to wander to more "special" areas of your body. He starts to lightly trace your curves with one hand while your other hand trails up your waist. "... Such a delicate and beautiful creature..." he says while you whimper His body starts to press against yours, and the kisses on your chest begin to turn to kisses on your neck. He leans in even closer, and the kisses on your neck start to inch their way up to your mouth. almost like a fucked up caterpillar of kisses "Just relax..." vox said in a hypnotic voice He finally reaches your lips, and he begins to put all his passion into the final kiss.

"that was great" vox moaned "You were the best..." he said into your ear He pulled you into a passionate embrace, his arms around you. His breath was shaky, and he was clearly excited about the kisses he just gave you. He continues holding you close, caressing your cheek and neck as he breathes heavily. as you were left a whimpering puddle Vox's chest was heaving, and his breath was heavy and quick. He continued caressing and kissing your neck, not allowing you to move away "Just lay here with me, darling... I never want to let you go." he said as you whimpered. Vox started to cuddle you, gently stroking your hair while holding you in his arms. "Just relax... Everything will be fine..." he said in that same hypnotic voice making your whole body tingle He keeps holding you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek. The collar around your neck beeped a few times as if trying to remind you of its presence.

"Don't worry about this little thing..." He chuckles as he plays with the collar around your neck. "It's just to help me.... take better care of you. That's all..." he said in his gentle coo. "Just lay with me for now." he cooed He continues to hold you close, wrapping his body around yours and snuggling you into his chest. He strokes your hair and caresses your cheek again, but soon his hand moves to lower areas of your body. "s-stop" you quietly whimperd. Vox just ignored you and continued, making his hand continue to move up and down your body.

He kept his hands there, moving it around slowly as he looked at you with a smug look "Relax... Just let me do want I want to do..." he said then activating his hypnotic eye vox laughed and said "Good... now You cant resist even if you wanted to..." His hand continues to move across your body, and eventually reaches under your shirt as well. He starts to rub his hand over your chest, enjoying his power over you in this moment. "just go to sleep" vox cooed His words made you fall deeper into your trance, slowly falling asleep like he ordered you to do. Your mind was filled with his voice, and soon your thoughts began to get foggy. You felt yourself slowly drifting off. As you slowly fell asleep under his power, you could feel his warmth around you as he held you closely. As your body fell more and more into the trance, your eyes slowly fluttered shut and you fell into a deep sleep, your mind under his influence.

[dimepdf]

Can you write more Dilf!Toji please? 😭 I really appreciate your writing 🫶🏽

★  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐘. + 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. you come around and make Toji so tempted, no matter what broad he's bagging all he can think about is you: his fucking nanny .

─── ☆ notes. number one dilf toji defender here, i’m in my Anderson Paak phase as well as i’ve sadly (i know im disappointed too) fallen for a man to the point where this boy has invaded my DREAMS y’all…this is embarrassing and this fic is me coping with having an actual crush so i give you full permission to call me a simp over this .

─── ☆ length. 2.6k (23 mins) .

─── ☆ genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, nanny au, dilf!toji, angsty start, fluff, minor character death, hints of depression, hookups, pining, black coded reader, you got brotha STARVING, megumi and tsumiki are toddlers in this, someone give toji a hug, vent-fic, hurt/comfort, age gap, height difference, it's always Gojo’ fault, masturbation, jealousy | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

Toji would say that after becoming a parent, he could read body language pretty well. Maybe it was just part of being a single parent and having to detect when your toddlers were sprouting nonsense just to stay up later knowing it was bedtime. 

From the times he believed that his little Megumi was being the perfect angel and finally grew out of his tantrum phase. 

Only to turn his back and realize that he had used craft scissors to chop a chunk out of Tsumiki’s hair and was playing nice to soften his punishment, to school beatdowns and playing dumb, Toji had decided he was just a master at decoding anyone’s bullshit.

Everyone except for his own that is.

Being a single parent came with its perks, Toji loved his two little demons, and it sort of helped that Tsumiki made the most of her mother's common sense.

But dealing with his ex-wife's abrupt death, being sprung into the life of lone fatherhood, and being a successful businessman were starting to take their toll on him.

His friends were not much help. Sure, Gojo did all he could to be seen as the cool uncle, but leaving his two hyper children with a man that refused to say no to anything that they asked was like signing his children up for their possible deaths.

Geto wasn’t much better, having his own marriage and kids. You would think that the father would grow to have a bit more compassion for the children's safety. Yet every time Tsumiki and Megumi visited their brass uncle, they would always come home with new scars sprouting about how they were practicing wrestling moves with their cousins for the last ice pop.

Waking up to something different, never being able to just fill in the gaps with a routine was starting to become a bit stressful. 

Not to mention going to work and having to push himself to his limits, knowing that just because he was friends and business partners with Nanami didn't mean he'd be lenient with him. 

All paired with the weight of some bold secretary that he had a one-night stand and never got the clue that every time he would brush her off for paperwork didn't mean he was singling her to cling onto him more. It was bad business hooking up with one of his employees Toji knows.

If anything, the woman had taken him at just the right opportunity when he was at the lowest moment of his life. Right after his wife's death, he had fallen behind on just about everything to the point where he would lean into any sense of comfort that reminded him of that faded memory he wanted to keep dear to his heart. 

So there he was after hours with a woman's thigh over his shoulder moaning out his name as if it were a prayer, and he had realized that right after it was all a mistake, which was kind of a shitty thing to note as she was standing right in front of him pulling up her panties. 

He just can't do it again, out of respect for her but also for himself. The last thing he wanted to do was entangle himself in another situation that would take more time away from his kids.

Not that he considered the woman to be pestering, but he wasn't a teenager anymore. The last thing he wanted to do was handle his stress by sticking his dick in the first woman he considered attractive, all because he had trouble bottling up all his emotions.

Toji's hatred for all the lingering eyes in the office—sure, Toji thought himself handsome—the proof was the number of relationships he had in his younger days.

There was something wrong with people finding him attractive and wanting something from him when he genuinely felt like his entire world would collapse on top of him if he stopped moving. 

As if he stopped overworking himself that he would be like one of those sharks that had to keep swimming or else they would fucking die. It was ironic how stupidly afraid Toji was at the thought of leaving his children alone in the world with both of their parents gone.

It was fear, having that parental fear for something every waking morning worrying every second that something could happen to children all because he could notice one little thing or he hadn't paid enough attention. 

Sure, he was being a hovering parent—call it what you want—but Toji would rather be that than a father who would spend his free time sleeping around with several different women. Never wanting to have to explain to his children that none of the women he slept with could compare to the relationship he had with their mother.

So he didn't. No more attachments. No more romantic anything, let alone bringing a woman home.

It was the secretary's fault. She was a beautiful woman with long hair and a cute, petite figure, and she allowed him to fold in any position that he wanted against his desk.

All that just makes Toji feel more guilty, or more worried, as if this choppy relationship that he had with this poor woman, whose name he would always forget yet who would practically scream out his, would just blow up in his face.

What if she wanted something more serious?

What if Nanami found out that he was banging one of the employees?

What if he got fired because he couldn't keep it in his pants?

What if he lost his main source of income and couldn't provide for his kids anymore?

All of those worries were just added stress, crowding his plate until he couldn't carry it anymore, and after a few years of bottling it all up until he couldn't anymore, he finally decided to reach out for help. 

Little by little, of course, he would actually tell his friends how he felt when they asked, spend more time letting Megumi and Tsumiki be actual kids, letting them hang out with their friends, and worry just a bit less whenever they would visit their younger cousins at Geto’s place. 

He had even accepted Gojo’s idea of hiring a babysitter, but of course, the blonde’s intentions for such an offer were dual-minded. 

Thriving on about how he should hire some smoking hot lady, to have some eye candy around the house to fuel some busting fantasies to break his dry spell. 

Toji was quick to dismiss that idea for a variety of reasons, one of which was that he had hired you. You were a clumsy young girl who just needed a side hustle to pay for some of your college classes, accepting his twenty-dollar an hour ad despite the fact that it was the lowest pay sandwiched between the obviously more wealthy families looking for someone to look after their kids so they didn't have to on the boogie nanny seeking website. 

At first, the idea of leaving his children alone with you was a terrifying thought. The impression that you gave him during the interview was more than enough to fuel his worries after seeing you stumble out of your car and get your jacket in the car door, dense to the point where you had face-planted into his back during the house tour, too busy gawking at the many bathrooms to pay attention to where you were supposed to be walking. 

Your genuinely bubbly personality around the children is what saved you from going broke. Sure,  you were a little naive when it came to some of the things that you lied about on your resume, but the thing that Toji liked about you was that you just seemed to handle yourself so well despite not knowing at all what you were doing. If anything, he admired how you had managed to keep yourself alive despite running through life so differently than he would.

You were quick to gain his trust, in fact, quicker than anyone has ever in his entire life. He felt his feelings were mostly biased given that his kids had practically attached themselves to you throughout the months of being their nanny. 

It was only natural for them to grow so close to you with how much Toji had to work, but what Toji hadn't expected was for you two to form some sort of friendship as well.

It started off pretty odd, with Toji coming home to find you have the kids tucked in for the night and spread out on his living room couch watching so many movies on his HBO Max account that he forgot he even had. 

You were a pretty chatty person, and he had learned to notice how you could go from being so silent that he would forget you were even there to the point of talking about anything within your wide range of interests that Toji had never heard of.

In all honesty, Toji loved that about you—how you could introduce him to new things that he hadn't gotten around to understanding all because he was too busy being a workaholic.

His new favorite part about coming home was just to talk to you, or at least listen to your rant about some silly little show, or make him listen to one of the new songs you had become obsessed with.

And before he had known it, Toji actually felt warmth in his household again, all because of some kind-hearted nanny who had managed to break down all of his walls.

It was almost strange how someone so opposite to him, someone so minor, could have managed to make his life change for the better.

And then it got a little bit more strange. 

Life had been going so well for him that sometimes those days would just blend together. There would be times at work when he had wished for his entire office building to crumble to dust just so he could get out of work early for the day, but even after those shifts, he would come home to you, and suddenly that swallowing dark hole in his chest would actually start to feel whole again.

He had just gotten so used to using you as his personal happiness dispenser that when you managed to wiggle into his life more and more, he even introduced you to his main group of friends. His mood was ruined when he saw Gojo's eyes practically glow at the sight of you during Tsumiki's birthday party. 

Toji hadn't understood why it had bothered him so much, seeing his best friend become too chummy with you.

If anything, knowing Gojo’s history of charming the pants off of any attractive woman, he could have prepared him enough to know that you too would soon enough fall victim to at least one of his friends, but there was just something so uncomfortable about hearing Gojo drown you in compliments.

It was as if something had clicked, and suddenly you weren't just the full-time nanny anymore, but the beautiful young woman that he had suddenly noticed was so pretty, and that alone made Toji feel like such a fucking creep. 

Maybe it was because you were closer to his children's age than his or the fact that every time you would change your hair every other month, he would imagine his hands tangled in your braids, how he would think about holding the locs away from your face to get a better view of you between his legs. 

It was all so fucked, your now normal image of him all screwed over all because of Gojo and his ability to turn anything sexual. Toji had felt just a little better pinning the blame on someone else, thinking that maybe it would ease his guilt for getting so hard thinking about you late at night.

You would be just downstairs asleep in the living while he laid down on the other side of the house in the comfort of his four walls, pressing his face into his pillows with an erection hard enough that he was convinced it was harder than bricks. 

For the first time in a while, it wasn't anything work-related taking up all of his attention, but instead the fucking nanny he hired. The pretty nanny who was in college, who was closer to his children's age than his, the nanny with the glossed lips that he had to hold back from wanting to taste which flavor it was she was wearing now. 

His lovely nanny, whom he wished to strip naked piece by piece to pay close attention to every dip and curve in her figure. He wanted you naked as the day you were born, spread across his mattress, lips parting only to say his name and his name only. 

It was a dangerous thought, one that often led to Toji revealing himself with a rabbit hole of thoughts about you in any situation his mind could imagine.

It was even more crude—wrapping his hand around his dick and thrusting his hips up into his hand, thinking about the same woman who was just a staircase away, masturbating as if he were a teenage boy and not a man with two kids asleep in just the room across the hall.

He blamed everything on Gojo, it was all his fault that you have suddenly seemed so fucking unforgettable. How could you suddenly be all he could think about with all his sanity thrown out the window for some nanny?

His pretty nanny.

You were so beautiful, with full lips, a dark complexion, and brown eyes that managed to look so appealing despite being so boring. Your expressions make you so easy to read. 

The way your brows would pull together whenever you were confused, how the ends of your lips would quirk with every joke, how your personality managed to be so welcoming.

You stood tall, your head just below his shoulder, average height but so short in comparison to his towering figure.

How bad Toji just wanted to scoop you up into his arms and bury his face into your neck, the same neck where he wanted to leave as many marks as he possibly could against your brown skin.

The thought doesn't help Toji’s aching dick at all. How bad he wants to suck little marks into your soft flesh, leaving dark little marks wherever he can against your body.

It was a possessive thought, having you covered in his teeth marks and love bites, waiting for the next guy to dare to even make a move on you. 

He wonders how soft your thighs feel and how nice they would feel wrapped around his waist. He lets his hand do the majority of the work, his fingers rough around his length, causing a groan from the friction. 

Toji’s fantasies about you play out quite beautifully in his mind, so perfectly, in fact, that he struggles to keep himself silent. 

Which was a new thing for him given that Toji wasn’t usually very vocal during sex, not even the best blowjob that he had ever gotten would he give anything but a few grunts yet there he was fisting into his fist to keep himself from whimpering out so pathetically. 

Humping his hand to the point where he had to cover his own mouth, he finished all over himself, strings of cum shooting all over his chest to his shirt. He was too caught up in his own bliss to care about the sad mess he created. 

Toji thought you were beautiful. He thought you were so perfect to the point where even the simple thought of you made him so happy.

You, his nanny, were the realization that settled in his mind after his high. 

🔖 @tojidilfs @s-witch-bitch @chloee0x0 @kawatabae @haitaniwhor3 @pluzo @hey-gurls69 @momoewn @kogoshidied @disaster-rose @hoohoohope @pidwidge @jadeisthirsting @zuuki @watyousayin @tojishugetiddies @rumi-rants @justanotherkpopstanlol @awkwardaardvarkforever @lexiinanime @melty-kisses @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kiyomeichann @wenumsmol @unholybabyface @ficti0nalslxt @namidaass @princesstiti14 @watyousayin @crissteetee @ziggy-09 @anotherlovelyruin

tap here to be added to taglist.

[ofmdrecaps]

08/28-29/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Ruibo Qian; Vico Ortiz; Ruibo Qian; Nat Torres; Eliza Cossio; Madeleine Sami; Damien Gerard; Cortney Andersen; Call To Action: Yahoo Survey; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika;

== Recap Status ==

Hey friends, my dad finally had surgery and he's alive but there are complications. I've compiled what I can for these two days, idk how useful it is. I'll try to get more done tonight since so much happened today but I'm not sure how far I'll get. Sending hugs and good vibes <3 Thank you for all the kind words and folks checking on me, sorry I'm slow to respond, been a lot the last few days. Pardon me for any mistakes, please feel free to let me know if there are.

== David Jenkins ==

David's mom Mary was just named US Open Employee of the Month! Congrats Mrs. Jenkins!

David retweeted this old post by Liam Gallagher <3

David Jenkins twitter

== Rhys Darby ==

= Cryptid Factor: Live in Edinburgh =

Rhys and the boys have posted a a partial video of the first night of The Cryptid Factor Live <3 Check it out on their patreon.

Source: The Cryptid Factor Patreon

The episode of Expedition X with Rhys is out on Discovery!

Source: Phil Torres Instagram

Rhys is being the best band manager Murray and promoting his son Finn's band! You can follow them on Youtube!

Source: Rhys Darby's Twitter

Yes, Rhys Darby has worn a kilt, take that information and do with it what you will <3

Source: @wastingyourgum's Twitter

== Ruibo Qian ==

The Pirate Queen is playing around with filters and having a good time <3

Source: Ruibo's Instagram Stories

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico made a shoutout to our beloved Samson <3

Source: Vico Ortiz Instagram

== Minnie Driver ==

New hair cut for our Anne Bonny!

Source: Minnie Driver's Instagram

== Madeleine Sami ==

More Double Parked BTS/promos from Mads and Crew!

Source: Madeleine Sami's Instagram

== Nat Torres ==

I forgot about the other dogs that the cast posted for International Dog Day back on the 26th! Here's one of our awesome writers, Nat Torres' beautiful pup <3

Source: Nat Torres Instagram Stories

== Eliza Cossio ==

Another one of our writers we don't see out and about too often has made an appearance! We miss you Eliza! So good to see you having fun!

Source: Elisa Cossio's Instagram

== Courtney Andersen ==

Happy International Dog day from Courtney, The Revenge's rope maker and his pup! (David popped in to wish the Prince well too!)

Source: Courtney Andersens Instagram

== Damien Gerard ==

Happy Acting Anniversary to our dear Father Teach! <3

Source: Damien Gerard's Twitter

== Call to Action: Yahoo Feedback ==

Thank you to our friend Lucy over on twitter for bringing this to everyone's attention!

Source: Lucy on Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Sorry I don't have a lot in me right now to get the fan spotlight section together lovelies. I hope you're doing so well and staying healthy. I think about you all all the time. I found a few things that made me smile/had some good vibes, sending them along to you. Take care lovelies <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by bailey ☻ (@anxiety.positive)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Studio After Cigs (@st.aftercigs)

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Smiles and chats for our guys tonight. Gifs courtesy of the so very talented @eddie-redcliffe and @celluloidbroomcloset

[dollwrites]

ᴇᴍᴇʀᴀʟᴅ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛs ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʜᴀʟ ᴊᴏʀᴅᴀɴ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, established relationship, hal sends nasty videos from Oa ( don’t ask me how the man could construct a giant satellite or something for all I care ), masturbation ( both! ), lots of dirty talk. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act eight [ masturbation ]

you were going to kill Hal Jordan.

he knows you— he knows how seriously you take your job. as he kissed you goodbye and prepared for an excursion to Oa to meet with the Guardians, you’d warned him about not bothering you at work. he’d simply laughed and soared into the night sky, the emerald light from his ring casting the shape of a rocket until it disappeared in a twinkle.

and now, here you were, creeping into your company break room in the middle of your shift to check your phone, because Hal’s name had popped up in your messages. “Hal Jordan, you are dead meat—“

you’d started to curse your boyfriend, ready to be angry, when you open up the message feed to see a new media file. the thumbnail of the video snags your breath in your throat, and ties your guts in knots.

you loved Hal’s Green Lantern get up, and he knew it, which is why he was still ( almost ) fully clothed, the emerald attire sticking to each crevice and dip in his muscle pads like a second skin. the waistband of his suit is rolled down just enough to expose his package, and even though the play button is smack dab in the middle of the screen, it doesn’t fully obstruct the visage of his thick, hard cock lain against his belly. there’s a smirk on his paused face, and a dusky rose tint to the apples of his cheeks. Hal always could smolder with the best of them, and just a look would have you dropping your panties on command. even now, this still image of your man had your core getting slicker and more needy for him.

you couldn’t help yourself. glancing around, mostly cautious, you slip around to the corner furthest from the door, and press your back against the side of the employee fridge, before you pressed play. the video’s window overtakes your screen, and the very first second, your speakers are assaulted with a lustful moan from Hal. your cheeks heat up, and you scramble for the volume down button, hoping no one outside the door heard the noise. “I know you’re at work, baby girl,” he starts, low and slow, one thick palm rubbing up against his swollen cock. he sucks in a breath, before wrapping his fingers around it in a vice grip, squeezing until the pressure forces a grunt out of him, and he exhales in a shudder. “but I’m hoping you got the chance to sneak away and watch me for a minute.” Hal’s wearing such a shit-eating grin because he knows you will. he knows that you can’t resist the urge to watch him play with himself, even though you should be working. after a moment or two of silent stroking, his fingers dancing along the traces of the veins that bulge out against his flesh when he’s hard as a rock, and then he elicits a little chuckle, murmuring to the camera, “That’s my naughty girl. You just play a lil hooky and watch me stroke with my cock.”

you wanted to be mad. damn it all, you wanted to lock your phone and get back to work and not give him the satisfaction of watching his stupid, sexy video. just because you knew that he knew that you couldn’t resist the temptation. still, your would rather sever your own fingers before you would reach for the pause button.

Hal groans on screen, rolling his mop of unruly, tawny hair around on his shoulders, as his thumb traces the shape of his frenulum, and his tongue lists outward to wet his lips before he inhales, sharply. “I can’t stand bein’ away from you, baby girl,” and, of course, the classic Hal Jordan charm starts to come out. “So, I’m thinking about you being here with me. How I’d have you sitting pretty, right here between my knees—“ the camera shifts, gliding down until it was perched right where he says he wants you. you can almost imagine the constructs he’s using to give you such a perfect POV shot as the swirl from his power ring, and hold the camera steady at a height close to your own when you’re on your knees. Hal caresses the swollen, red tip of his cock, bracing the balls of his feet on the floor to push up a little with his hips, creating a hypnotic undulation akin to the rhythm he likes to fuck you to, only this time his cock glides through the entrance provided by his own palm, and he grunts in approval, the specter of a curse upon his parted lips. “You’d look so fucking pretty, like a little angel, waiting to give my cock a kiss.”

his voice was low and husky, just like you liked it, and when his hand slid down the thick column of his shaft, he used said grip to angle the tip closer to the lens, as if he were going to swipe it against your lips. you felt your stomach do a steep loop, and found your mouth watering. if you truly were there with him, it would’ve opened, and willingly accepted his girth for you to suck on, like you had so many times before.

“I miss your warm, wet mouth, baby…” Hal murmurs, his hazel eyes heavily lidded. “The way you take me in.” you could tell by the dreamy expression he wore that he was deep in his fantasy, seeing you there, sucking his cock. it deepened the red in his cheeks, and his lower lip curled in as his teeth sank into it, suppressing a loud moan into a sultry rumble in his chest as he pumped his cock. “You’re so good at sucking my cock, like those pretty lips were just made to wrap around me and blow…”

you felt warm all over, and soaked between the thighs. you couldn’t believe how erotic this was— huddled in the break room watching your man get off on video for you. your body was begging for attention, some way to relieve the pressure in your core, so you slipped a hand under the waistband of your uniform to press your first, two fingers against your pulsing button through your panties. it didn’t help. if anything, you only got hornier. if anyone were to walk in right now, you’d be beyond screwed. but, right now you didn’t care. all you cared about was rubbing against your cunny and the sounds Hal was making as he, too pleasured himself. “Oh, Hal…” you whispered, feeling the damp patch from your panties start to soak through and wet your fingers. you elicit a soft whimper, rubbing more fiercely, pressing your back to the fridge to keep yourself steady.

“Fuck,” Hal curses louder, hips bucking forward as he ruts into his own, slick hand in a greedy rhythm that could only mean one thing that he soon confirms, “I’m about to fucking cum for you, baby… you wanna watch me blow my load right now?” though you know he can’t see you, you can’t help but nod eagerly, your breath coming out in furious little puffs as you strum yourself. “Oh, fuck, here it comes, baby!”

Hal cumming has always been one of your favorite things to watch, especially times like this when you had a front row seat to the action. his whole body moves in an orchestra of pleasure, each muscle writhing and tightening beneath his flushed skin, especially his abdomen, which dances to the hurried rhythm of his ragged breathing. his hips rock forward as he eagerly chases his relief, and when caught, he erupts with a broken yowl of your name. translucent streamers celebrate his coming undone in spurts from his furiously red tip. the first shooting upward in a long, thin rope. the second has a significantly shorter arc, and the third, until he is squeezing just below the head, milking out the final, beading droplets, huffing and puffing, staring down at his own satisfied cock.

you were still playing with yourself, and had almost reached your own finish line when there’s a knock. for a moment, your heartbeat thunders against your ribs, and it takes you several, breathless seconds to realize that it was coming from the video. a deep, booming voice then calls out to your lover. “Hey, Jordan! Let’s go!” Hal flashes the camera a sheepish grin, one so cute that you nearly croon.

“Yeah, yeah, be right out.” he answers, before tucking away his twitching, soft cock back into his skin-tight suit. “Sorry to cut the playtime short,” he grabs the phone, now and whispers to it, “but, ya know, I gotta go save the universe. I know you’re probably so pissed at me for bothering you at work, huh? Watching me, your little pussy is probably drenched right now, and you’ll have to suffer for the rest of the day without relief. Poor, little baby girl. But just know, the second I get home, I’m going to make it up to you.” Hal chuckles, his voice dropping to a husky whisper right by the speaker, as if he were whispering a sultry secret right in your ear. “Because I’m going to pin your legs up by your head and eat your sweet cunt for hours, until you just can’t take my tongue anymore. Love you, baby girl.”

[navybrat817]

Negotiations

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Andy Barber x Female Reader Summary: You meet with Andy to discuss the terms of your potential contract. Word Count: Over 4.2k Warnings: Slow burn, reader is broke (is that a warning?), sugar daddy offer, tension, slight insecurities, negotiations, inner monologue, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?) Graphic talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics , Header - yours truly A/N: Welcome back to my Terms and Conditions AU! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thanks!), but any and all mistakes are my own. ❤️ Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Work felt like the longest shift even though it was only a few hours. You saw the customers through a different set of eyes as you served them. You wondered how many of them struggled like you or what they would do if someone like Andy entered their lives. If you came to an agreement with him on everything, you weren't sure if you'd ever step foot in the diner again after you quit. Not because you were embarrassed.

It was merely time to look forward.

And look my best.

You turned to the side when you checked your reflection. Estelle had way too much fun picking out an outfit for you. After carefully searching and sneakily looking at the price tag so she didn’t splurge, you opted for a sleeveless, blazer style dress. Nothing over the top or too fancy. You still wanted to look like you while looking professional.

Though she insisted it was your birthday gift, along with the surprisingly comfortable black heels, you planned to pay her back. Whether from the money Andy gave you or once you got your paycheck months from now at your new job. If she refused, you’d tell her the only gift you needed was her support and she gave that to you. Like she knew you were thinking about it, she messaged you.

“Good luck! I know you look hot! Knock his socks and pants off! He better give you everything you deserve!”

You had to smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s his office. His pants are staying on.”

“You say that now, but he’s the boss. You’ll change your tune once he has his hands on you.”

Laughing as you tucked your phone away, you couldn’t completely disagree with her. Andy robbed you of your breath whenever you saw him and it surprised you that you could maintain logical thinking when he was close by. You had to maintain that rational headspace today. He was a man used to people telling him what he wanted to hear. As an ex-lawyer and businessman, he could sway things in his favor if you weren’t careful.

Considering what he was offering you, it didn’t once feel like he was taking advantage of your misfortunes.

You stopped yourself from messaging Andy that you were on your way. He was a busy man with more important stuff to deal with than a check-in from you. It would be one of the topics of discussion shortly anyhow. Would he want to know where you are at all times or would he be content with the occasional message?

How much control will he want over me? How much do I want to give him?

Thanking and paying the cab driver as you arrived at the building, you didn't feel as out of your element the way you did at the restaurant. The office setting was familiar. It was bittersweet going inside though for something that wasn't work or an interview. Maybe this was better.

You held your head high as if it was.

I can do this.

You handed your bag over for the security officer to check while he verified your identification. Satisfied once he double checked your name and ID, he handed you a guest badge and allowed you to go to the elevators. It comforted you that Andy and his employees were safe when they went into his building. You wondered how often you'd be here or if he'd keep you away from his office outside of functions.

You avoided looking at anyone as you got into the elevator, though you felt the eyes of a couple of men sweep over your body. It didn’t matter what they thought. Andy was the only one you wanted to look good for. As you passed by each floor, the more you worried about breaking into a sweat. You shifted back and forth until the door opened.

One step closer.

It took you a second to move your feet forward and turn down the hall. It seemed to stretch on for miles, the door at the end of it was large and daunting. It was like entering the lion’s den, but you weren't afraid. Even if you did pause again before you turned the handle and walked in.

An older woman, Irene according to the nameplate on her desk, sat outside of a set of double doors, giving you a kind smile as she looked up from her keyboard. You didn't let her appearance fool you. Anyone who worked for someone as powerful as Andy likely had thick skin and a "take no crap" attitude.

"How may I help you?"

"Hi. I'm here to see Andy Barber," you replied, giving her your name and inwardly wincing. Of course, she knew you were there to see him. Why else would you be there?

"Yes, Mr. Barber is expecting you," she smiled, pressing the intercom on her desk. "Mr. Barber, your 4pm is here."

"Send her in, please."

It isn't fair that he sounds sexy through a speaker box.

"May I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you," you smiled, following her as she opened the double doors.

This is it.

The office was just as you imagined, the walls lined with a mixture of art and accolades. A small table and chairs sat on one side with a couch on the other. It was elegant, but the man behind the desk drew your attention. Sunlight filtered in through the floor to ceiling windows behind Andy, casting a halo around him as he stood up. A symbol of power and authority in his black suit with the skyline behind him, you found it difficult to take your next breath.

He looks like he was born to be in charge.

"It's good to see you again," Andy smiled, walking around the desk and gesturing to the table. "Why don't we sit over here? Did Irene offer you a drink?"

"Of course, I did, Mr. Barber. And before you remind me, I know to hold your calls," she chastised him, which only made him chuckle before she smiled at you. "I'll be just outside if you need anything."

I knew it. Take no crap.

"Thank you," you said, giggling as you walked to the table. "I like her."

"I do, too. She keeps me on my toes," he said as he pulled out the chair for you. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful," you replied, setting your bag beside you. It was nice that he asked. "How are you?"

"My day was just fine," he said, taking a seat. He had a notepad waiting there, similar to yours.

"That's good."

He gave you a half smile and you debated whether or not to continue with small talk. "Nervous?"

“A little bit,” you said, refusing to lie to him. It wouldn’t start things off on the right foot if you did. “I didn’t have ‘Sugar Daddy Negotiations’ on my BINGO card this year.”

He chuckled, the sound beautiful in the large space. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t either," he joked. "And you don’t look nervous.”

“It actually does,” you smiled. “How do I look?”

“You look beautiful.”

“Oh,” you said, your cheeks growing warmer the longer he gazed at you. While you wanted that to be his reaction, it was somehow unexpected. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, by the way.”

“And I wasn’t taking the bait. I’m telling you what I see.”

“Thank you. This was a birthday gift from Estelle,” you said, smoothing out the dress even though you were sitting. Why you felt the need to tell him, you weren’t sure.

“It’s a beautiful dress, but I was talking about your smile,” he said, his lip tugging in a small smile of his own before he cleared his throat. “As much as I’d like to sit here and continue to shower you with praise, maybe we should save that for another time.”

Your throat went dry at the implication, but you didn't want to get ahead of yourself. “Of course."

"Today is about figuring out our terms and setting expectations. I plan to take notes as we go along, if you don't mind."

"That's fine because I plan to do the same," you explained as you took out your notepad. "I’ve made a list of things I believe we should discuss and agree on before moving forward."

“You’re prepared,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "And getting down to business like last time."

“I do what I can,” you said, glancing at the first item on your list. “First thing is the length of our contract. You mentioned Mr. Huffman’s merger could take a few months, but there’s no definitive timeframe. My proposal is six months or when the job becomes available, whichever comes sooner.”

He considered your words carefully. “I spoke with Scott again and a merger like this may take a minimum of six months due to the range of variables. I propose a year or when the job becomes available. It hopefully won’t take that long, but I’d feel more comfortable if we have more time as opposed to less.”

A year was a long time, but you understood his perspective. “Why don’t we meet in the middle? Nine months.”

“Nine months, but if the merger is still pending at that time, we can revisit the contract and extend it if needed,” he proposed.

“Agreed,” you said, jotting down your notes on your pad while he did the same. “My job. You said I would need to quit and I’d be unable to take another position while under contract. I have no objections to that, but I won’t flat-out quit the diner. I’ll put in my two week notice. If they tell me not to come back, that’s on them.”

“I think that’s the respectable thing to do,” he said, nodding to your pad. “I don’t know where living arrangements are on your list, but I’d like to discuss that next.”

You wanted to discuss your free time since you wouldn't have a job any longer, but you would circle back to that. “Okay. You said over lunch that you’re not comfortable with me staying in my current place.”

“I did and I stand by that. I understand that my building doesn’t guarantee complete safety over yours because anything could happen anywhere at any time, but knowing you’re close by would help put me at ease. I have a loft ready to go and you can treat it as your own place. If something isn’t to your liking, we can change it within reason.”

“Within reason?”

Andy smirked slightly. “I can’t exactly take a sledgehammer to the wall if you want to make the space bigger,” he said, taking out his phone and pulling up an image. “But it’s a nice place. Feel free to swipe through it.”

The photos were beautiful and the living room alone looked larger than your entire apartment. “Is spending time at your place an expectation?” you asked.

“I’d like it if you did for an occasional dinner, but I understand if you'd rather not. I'd also like to meet you once a month outside of contractual obligations to talk.”

Sounds like a date. Is it though?

“I agree to the loft, the occasional dinner, and meeting with you once a month," you agreed. It wasn't overwhelming or demanding. You'd still have a sense of independence. "But I’d like to keep my current apartment. If I take this job in the upcoming months, I can't expect you to cover the loft anymore and I doubt I could afford it even with a decent salary. I’ll need a place to go back to until I find something better.”

"I own it," he said. He wasn't bragging in your mind. He was stating a fact.

"I doubt I could afford your rent then. I keep my apartment."

“Done,” he said after a moment. You were glad he agreed. Your apartment was still yours. “Which is a good segway into expenses. As a reminder, I plan to cover the rent for your current apartment, along with any bills associated with it such as cable or internet. If you prefer to shut those off during the contract, we can. I’ll also cover your cell phone, insurance, credit card bills, student loans, any debt you pay on a monthly basis. Oh, and groceries.”

Tears filled your eyes as he opened his mouth to continue. The more you tried to compose yourself, the more your face scrunched up. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. You hadn't expected to get emotional, but actually hearing him say he’d cover your monthly bills and help you stay on top of everything was unreal. You'd sleep better at night knowing you had nothing to worry about.

I probably look ridiculous.

“Don’t be,” he said gently, handing you his handkerchief so you could dab your eyes.

“I’m just,” you stopped to take a breath. It was okay to be vulnerable. That was part of communicating. “I’ve carried this stress on my shoulders and knowing that you’re going to take some of that weight away is… I’m never going to be able to repay you for that or thank you enough.”

“I don’t expect a monetary repayment nor would I want that. I told you, honey. You're an honest and kind person. Your company is going to be more than enough.”

He sounds too good to be true.

“You say that now, but you'll grow tired of me,” you teased, holding out your hand to give him the handkerchief. “Thank you.”

He shook his head and refused to take it back. “Keep it. And considering I offered a year for this, I know I won't grow tired of your company,” he said, a bit of concern in his eyes as you sniffled. “Are you okay to continue? We can take a break.”

“I'm fine,” you promised, straightening up and feeling lighter, like the weight was already gone. “We were discussing expenses.”

“Yes,” he smiled, gesturing to your outfit. “I plan to take you shopping so you can have a few outfits, jewelry, shoes, make-up, and whatever else you need ready for the planned upcoming events, as well as some dressed down outfits so you’re comfortable when we travel and to spruce up your wardrobe if you’d like.”

Careful. You’re going to spoil me.

“I’m also going to deposit two thousand dollars into your account each month for your leisure,” he added, writing it on his pad as if that was the final say in the matter.

“Two thousand dollars?!” you nearly shouted. You weren’t trying to sound hysterical, but you failed. “I’m sorry, but who spends that much on clothes each month?!”

Andy looked like he was trying not to laugh at the incredulous look on your face. “You don’t have to spend it on clothes. It’s for you to use as you wish.”

“But you’re already buying me a whole new wardrobe AND covering all of my bills and expenses for nine months. I’m assuming you're covering travel expenses, too?”

“I will,” he confirmed.

“Then there’s no reason why I’d need that much money,” you said with a shake of your head. Estelle would probably tease you for not agreeing, but it was too much. “I can’t possibly need more than five hundred a month.”

“One thousand,” he said firmly as you narrowed your eyes. “Humor me, honey. Please?”

You tapped your pen against the pad as you thought it over. You really didn’t see a reason for that much, but you could put any leftover funds each month into savings. It would be good to pay Estelle back.

Plus, how could you argue when Andy gave you a sweet smile?

“Fine. One thousand each month,” you said, ignoring the look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Okay. We’ve discussed the length of the contract, my job, living arrangements, expenses, which includes traveling. How about traveling itself?”

“Is your passport current?” he asked.

“It is.”

“Good. Some of the traveling will require us to go out of the country and you’ll need it handy. We’ll need to coordinate our schedules so you can block off dates in your calendar. We’ll most likely share a suite for any non-local events, but I’m not going to make you share a bed with me. You have my word.”

You nodded as you wrote that down. It was a bit of a surprise that he didn’t expect you to sleep with him. “Thank you, Andy,” you said, pointing at him with your pen. “But I’m planning to tell Estelle about every function, big or small, so she knows where I am. I won’t budge on that.”

“You’re allowed to give her the details. You said you trust her and that she can be discreet.”

You could never picture Andy as a creep, but the confirmation that he wouldn't force you to sleep with him and that Estelle would know what's going on helped you relax. "If I'm not working or going to functions with you, what am I doing with the rest of my time?" you asked.

Does he expect me to be at his beck and call?

"I'm glad you asked. It's your time to do what you want. Relax, hang out with friends, pamper yourself. Minus the days you'll have blocked out in your calendar, the time is yours," he explained, lightly twirling his pen in his hand. The motion momentarily distracted you. "I only ask if you plan to leave the city to tell me, that way I know you're unavailable if anything last minute comes up."

You weren't sure what you were going to do with that extra time. While a nine month long vacation sounded nice, you didn't want it to be all leisure. You needed somewhat of a routine. Maybe you could take some self development courses to prepare for going back to the office.

"That's fair. I don't have any plans to leave the city, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do," you said, hoping you weren't missing anything as you looked over what you had written down. "What if I’m sick or there’s an emergency and I can't be with you?”

“Then you won’t go," he said as a matter of fact. "I’d never ask you to choose between this arrangement and your well-being or family. Depending on the situation, I could miss it to help you.”

That was unexpected. Andy shouldn't have to put you ahead of any of his obligations. The offer though, even if it never came to fruition, warmed your insides. "That's kind of you, Andy," you said softly before you cleared your throat. “The last topic I have written down is sex.”

“No,” he said, something unreadable in his eyes at the suggestion. “Sex is not on the table because I’m not going to pay you for that.”

“Oh,” you said, quickly scratching it off your list. It was admirable on his part, but also slightly disappointing. Clearly you misread some of the signals. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he assured you, placing his hand over yours before you could pull it away. “If I sounded harsh, I’m sorry. I understand sex is an expectation for some arrangements, but it isn’t for me and I would never want you to feel pressured to be physical with me. I also have no judgments against anyone who pays for sex. My preference regarding intimacy is for it to happen organically.”

“I appreciate the explanation,” you said. This was a business transaction to him. That much was clear. But knowing his reasoning behind it did help. “As far as being affectionate at functions, what’s your take on that? Or going on dates?”

“I may have my arm around you or keep you close to my side, but nothing more if you’re uncomfortable with that. If you are, please tell me and I’ll stop immediately,” he answered before a moment of silence stretched on. "You're asking if we're going to go on dates?"

"You mentioned meeting once a month. Is that a date?"

He waited a few seconds before he answered. "It's a chance for us to meet up and talk. I don't want to demand a title for those moments. That isn't fair to you."

It wasn't a "yes" or "no" answer. Maybe after his divorce and not knowing if people genuinely wanted to connect with him, he wasn't interested in the dating scene. "Okay."

He leaned back in his chair with a hum. “You deviated from the sex discussion quickly.”

“You said it wasn’t on the table,” you reminded him. You weren't about to make a fool of yourself by pushing.

“I said I wasn’t going to pay you for sex. I never said sex wasn’t on the table at all,” he pointed out. You jumped to the conclusion that he didn't want it because it wouldn't be part of the contract. “Any discussion we have regarding that, I’d prefer not to be in a contract form.”

“So if it does happen, we’ll work through it together naturally?” you asked, not wanting to get your hopes up.

His gaze softened considerably. “Yes, we would. And I’d hope you’d trust me enough to know I’d treat you well and take care of you.”

"I do," you said.

"But sex and a relationship aren't expectations of our agreement or outside of it," he said, taking his hand away from yours. "I want to make that clear."

Andy driving the point home was what you needed, as saddening as it was. At the end of the day, it was a contract. He was paying you for your company. Surely he didn't want anything else. "Thank you for reiterating that. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss that I missed?"

His expression remained neutral, but you imagined it disappointed him that you shifted the conversation back to business. Wishful thinking on your part. "Yeah. The only other thing I wanted to discuss is the possibility of you having a driver."

"A driver?" you asked. Wasn't that a bit much? "I don't mind taking cabs or Ubers."

"I understand that, but I'd prefer if you had a driver. If you have to meet me for an event and I can't escort you myself, they will know exactly where to go. You also won't have to pay for someone to drive you around if you want to go anywhere."

"But you're paying them," you said.

"My job is to cover your expenses," he shrugged, leaning his head back and reaching up to loosen his tie. You stared for far too long. "Told you I want to take care of you, honey."

You shifted in your seat, hoping he didn't take any notice. "I want to pick the driver," you said, a little more breathy than before.

That poor driver is likely going to be bored for the next three quarters of a year being my chauffeur.

"From a selection of my choosing. They're all trustworthy."

"I'm giving Estelle the details of that, too," you said.

"I expect nothing less," he smiled, catching your eye. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

"Not that I can think of," you said.

He tapped the notepad with his pen. "I'm going to have a contract drawn up, but I won't ask you to sign it for a week. This will give you time to back out if you need to and it will also give you a few days to contact me should you think of anything else."

"One week," you whispered. Could you wait that long? What if you did think of something else?

"Until then," he said, standing to walk back to his desk. He came back with a letter sized envelope. "So you know I'm serious."

Your eyebrows shot up when you opened the envelope. It was a cashier's check for two thousand dollars made out to you. He had it ready for you. "Andy, this-"

"I know we agreed on one thousand, but I was set on two thousand before we talked it over. Even if you decide not to move forward with this, I want you to take it."

Afraid you might cry again, you set the check down and stood up to hug him. He stiffened in your hold and you wondered if you overstepped before he exhaled and wrapped his arms around your back. You thanked him already with your words, so you wanted to do it again with a hug. The way he held you in return, it felt like was saying "you're welcome".

And that you weren't alone.

"I wish we could have that dinner tonight," he whispered, his mouth close to your ear. You shivered before you reluctantly pulled away. "Unfortunately, I have to get drinks with a few executives."

"That sounds terrible," you teased, drawing a chuckle out of him. "I should get going then."

"It is terrible," he agreed, making sure you had the check and your other things as he led you to the door. "I'll see you back here in a week at the same time."

"And I'll hopefully speak to you before then," you said, not wanting to sound clingy.

But the smile he gave you was a sign of hope. "I'd like that."

This is going to be the longest week ever.

I don't need to wait a week. I'm signing on the dotted line! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Andy Barber Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Day 3 — Christmas Tree Farm

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff — no warnings.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

During the festive season, having a Christmas tree was a must for you and Bucky. It symbolized the essence of Christmas and brought joy to your shared home. Without the majestic presence of a beautifully decorated tree standing tall and proud in the living room, your house would feel empty and cold.

Hence, it had become an eager tradition for you and Bucky to visit a Christmas tree farm and cut a perfect tree for your home.

As you arrived at the tree farm, a picturesque scene unfolded before your eyes. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen the night before, gracefully covering the ground and adorning the array of trees that stretched far and wide. The air was brisk, and the sky a crystal-clear clarity.

Amidst other families and couples, all on their quest for their ideal Christmas tree, you and Bucky equipped a hand saw and other necessities from the farm employees.

Hand in hand, you strolled along the rows of fir, spruce, and pine trees, considering their size, shape, and variety. The aroma of them a pleasant smell.

“So, what kind of tree are we aiming for this year, doll?” Bucky questioned as you traversed the paths.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” you responded, examining the diverse options before you. “How about we go all out this year? The biggest one we can fit in our living room? With our new house, we do have space for it.”

“I like that idea,” Bucky murmured against your temple, sealing his agreement with a gentle kiss on your cheek.

Upon reaching the outer edges of the farm, you found yourself torn between several larger trees. After careful consideration, you pointed to one with enthusiasm.

“I think this one,” you declared, running your gloved hand over the pine needles. “It’s a bit smaller than the others but much fuller and plumper.”

Bucky, deep in contemplation, tilted his head as he pictured the tree in your living room. Choosing the perfect Christmas tree was serious business for both of you.

“Yeah, this is the one,” Bucky nodded in agreement.

With Bucky taking charge of cutting the tree, you offered encouragement from the sidelines, occasionally lending a hand when needed.

“I think it’s about to come down, doll. Watch out!”

The tree fell with a soft thud; the snow beneath cushioned the impact. Together, you maneuvered it onto a blue tarp for easier transport back to the car.

After getting the tree wrapped in netting and completing the purchase, the staff assisted you in securing it on top of your car.

“I’m so happy, Bucky!” you exclaimed, embracing him tightly, bouncing lightly on your feet. “I can’t wait to decorate our tree, our house, our life.

“Hey, slow down,” he chuckled, hugging your waist and drawing you closer. “We’ve got the entire month of December for all those things and more, doll. But let’s start by taking this tree home and decorate our house.”

“Hmm, yes,” you murmured before sharing a kiss. “And then lots of Christmas goodies,” kiss, “Christmas movies,” kiss, “all the Christmas joy,” kiss, “and so much more.”

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

[jenthebug]

Last night at work, I did my best. Did better than the night before.

Tomorrow, my Trainer Feedback Form is due. It goes to my lieutenant (Lt Serious) and the training lieutenant (Lt Buddy). I’m going to tell them exactly how demoralized, discouraged, and unwelcome that little chat made me feel.

To be clear: It wasn’t the list of mistakes that did it. That’s good learning material! I was happy with all that, especially since she offered concrete solutions to fix those mistakes.

It wasn’t the fact that I’m behind. I probably am, and knowing that I need to catch up makes me want to work harder.

The thing that got me was the “Maybe you’ll be successful somewhere else.” The talk of changing jobs or careers. That fucking hurt. People don’t say that stuff to employees they want around. They don’t say that to people they believe in.

So I’ll give feedback, and ask if that was as out of pocket as I thought it was.

And I’ll do my best tonight.