#but i hate him for like. actual reasons instead of He Fell In Love With Bloom Despite Being In A Forced Engagement Oh No

[tanoraqui]

now that this fic is all published, I can ramble about the things that happen afterward in the timeline! Feel SO free to ask about anything you want more details of.

First off, all three posts about Dave the Balrog are 100% canon to this au, except for where they sometimes contradict the fic's worldbuilding or plot bc I hadn't settled on every detail yet. Also, Dave’s name is probably more like “Drav”, from the Sindarin “drava-”, “to hew.”

That happens much later, though - about 1980 TA. FIRST, immediately, as Celebrimbor says: it's time to save the orcs!

That is, wildly self-indulgent crossover with @ceescedasticity's fic(verse) elves, once, which isn't 100% my headcanon for orcs but it's essentially canon for this au because it makes everything VERY FUNNY in a tragic irony way. I've thought about this so much that it really deserves its own bullet-point post, but highlights include:

- Annatar attempts to conceal the fact that Curufin and Celegorm are orcs, and, y'know, have been since they died. This works until Celebrimbor identifies a bunch of the orc army's weapons as made by his father, even if the style is strange and fell, and the two of the have a HUGE fight in front of representatives of every Elvish kingdom in Middle Earth and most of an army of orcs.

- Bellow/Turgon is having the single strangest, most uncomfortable road trip of his life, and he counts the crossing of the Helcaraxë in that total.

- Turgon tries to convince Galadriel to take Celebrían and Elrond and get out of here, because inevitably this must be a cruel trick and all the orcs will be forced to turn on all the Elves. Galadriel is like, "Honestly, I've been watching Celebrimbor's slow corruption and Sauron's slower un-corruption for about 2,000 years now, and I think we actually have a shot at this. Also, bold of you to assume you can beat me in a fight."

- Curufin and Celegorm had BOOKED IT when Annatar's summoning-compulsion snapped, on the reasonable assumption that any plan the Dark Lord had for them + Celebrimbor could only be cruel to the extreme...so Celebrimbor and Annatar go on a bonus road trip to retrieve them.

- Everyone meets up by the Sea again, but instead of taking (or, obeying) the offer of escape into Ulmo's hands, Turgon and probably a bunch of other orcs volunteer to come help break the Crucible. They Deserve This.

- In the end, as usual, the day is ultimately saved - as are the souls of thousands of trapped elves - by the power of love and overwhelming violence.

AND THEN...

Celebrimbor & Annatar don't actually rebuild Ost-in-Edhil and Eregion as they were. Those days are over, and also the surviving Númenoreans kinda...regard Annatar as Absolute Evil, for some mysterious reason. And those who knew about the whole or even partial conspiracy - namely Tar-Miriel herself - aren't too keen on Celebrimbor, either.

They leave whoever wants to stay and rebuild in Eregion, leadership tbd based on the traditional system of craft-based meritocracy, and take a few decades off to lay low from geopolitics, work on their marriage, and for Celebrimbor to learn a little bit of necromancy so he can manipulate his own fëa and hröa, thank you very much.

They stay with the Witch-Queen of Calador for a while, discreetly because officially that kingdom is also not on good terms with its “former” evil-ish overlord. (The Witch-Queen of Calador and her not really sane, almost certainly unsafe, but arguably consensual relationship with Annatar really deserves her own post, too. She’s my favorite OC of this au. She really loves bats.)

Elrond & Celebrían get married! Elrond always knew his wedding would have to involve stopping drunken brawls from erupting between people who love him but hate each other, but he’d assumed it’d be Iathrim and Fëanorians, not an elderly Queen Miriel going for Annatar’s eyes with a butter knife.

Annatar regards the birth of Elrohir and Elladan with some concern, this alarming lineage now augmented by the blood of Arafinwë (cut off Melkor’s foot) and Galadriel (Melian’s pupil, hates him). But that’s nothing to how freaked out he is by Arwen, who is such an obvious Reprise of Lúthien that it’s now CLEAR that this was all a Melian scheme to assault him, personally.

He can’t just kill her now—Elrond and Galadriel and both right here, not to mention Celebrimbor. And then she’d absolutely be his enemy when she Returned… No, the only solution is to stay in Imladris for a while and become her most beloved uncle whom she would not dream of assaulting, whom she could not bring herself to injure even if circumstance and conscience forced her hand. Love has ever been the undoing of Melian’s line. The Reprise is obvious, but not so established that he cannot twist it into irony, Lúthien’s heir as his devoted student and companion rather than foe.

[smash cut to late 3rd Age Annatar watching the Music settle into place as Arwen interacts with the newest, currently toddling scion of the House of Elendil and nearly killing the child right then because no, no, thats not how this was supposed to Reprise—that’s his jewel of an elf-queen, Singer and trade-manipulator and niece, and he’s going to lose her forever? Killing the brat won’t even work, that would only make her follow him sooner, one way or another—]

Celebrimbor doesn’t want to build a city (and have his heart broken by the loss of the city) again, but he very much does want to ImproveThe World, and also to Make Things With His Hands. So he and Annatar, and whoever of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain wish to join them, set about… “Traveling” is too loose a term; just because they’re not city-building doesn’t mean anyone here wants to live on the road. They need workshops, forges, and ideally a maia-sized cat tree tall tower from which to survey their domain. They are a highly skilled work crew/technical, artistic & management consultants who change cities every 5-200 years, throughout Middle Earth and perhaps even other continents.

This what Celebrimbor and Annatar do, for most of the rest of their time in Middle Earth. A few of the Mírdain travel with them all the time. Others strike out on their own, or in similar small groups. Others stay in rebuilt Ost-in-Edhil, or Rivendell or the Havens or another Elvish kingdom, and come lend a hand when their particular talents are called for. Everyone who “died” in Númenor and was “resuscitated” by Annatar walked away with a strengthened, basically permanent osanwë connection to the simulated workshop group chat, which they’re aware of, and a location tracker and fëa-stamp saying “PROPERTY OF MAIRON, FUCK AROUND AND YOU WILL FIND OUT” which only an Ainu could detect.

They're the mysterious stranger(s) who accept an offer of hospitality on a stormy night and reward you with a magic ring that blesses your farm with fecundity. They arrive in a city in the middle of a cholera outbreak and inform the local rulers that they're here to overhaul the whole wells & sewers system in exchange for room and board; no, the local rulers do not get a choice in this. One time they do oust an evil ruling dynasty and just kinda take over the kingdom for a few centuries, but then Celebrimbor starts to get paranoid of his own growing attachment so Annatar reluctantly agrees to find and raise some honorable candidate for kingship [gender-neutral]. One of the Mírdain with them says, what about the choice of the people? And then after a lot of discussion, partly in collaboration with their local Men, they write up and seal with Power a Constitution that establishes an oversight body of political, economic, craft and etc. experts to oversee and have veto power over popular elections to kingship from a slate of candidates chosen by the current/soon-to-be previous king, on a strict thirty-year schedule. There, that should stabilize the whole messy business of mortal succession!

Also, 1300 years or so into the Third Age when this version of Gondor hits its equivalent of the Kin-Strife, Annatar takes advantage of its weakness to initiate a plan he's been contemplating for a while, especially while gaining local insight into a variety of nation-states and their management, and returns to Oroduin to forge what may he his last Great Work...a new standard of currency.

It’s called, in the common tongue developing from Adúnaic and Sindarin, the “mira”, pl. “miran”, from Quenya “mírë” (“jewel, precious thing). Where pettier currencies are based in gold or silver or the might of some particular empire, these hold value Because a Great Maia Said So—indeed, Sang So, Sang a new line into the Great Music that these coins would always have a value of…whatever he said so, if he updated a petty lyric or two of their Song. Those who use the coins don’t need to know this; they simply intuit, with coins in hand, what they are worth.

(You can lead even the mightiest empire by the nose if you control the price of grain alone, much less other commodities, or one currency relative to another. Each minute adjustment takes Power, especially to shift the natural balance of multiple interlocking goods…but Annatar is a master of the perfectly placed lever with which to shift the world.)

Maybe at some point the Valar are like, “okay, I think they don’t irrationally hate us anymore, I think this could work” and send a small group of Maiar to openly, humbly approach Annatar and Celebrimbor and ask if they might be apprentices in the craft of…whatever the fuck is happening here. Or maybe something adjacent, because Pallandro and Alatar would really like to fuck off into those excellent looking woods and hunt the remnants of Ungoliant’s spawn, and Radagast actually wandered away 5 minutes ago to talk to a bird. He’s gonna be a while. But Curumo and Olórin are listening politely!

…Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just the Jewelsmiths, slowly becoming folklore, bettering the world (and manipulating wide-scale economics) one stone at a time. (They’d still be the “Jewelsmiths” anyway, even if they included those who, in another universe, were called “The Wise.”)

As stated in the third Dave the Balrog post, they do Sail eventually, several centuries after Arwen’s death. Celebrimbor just gets tired, and Annatar can’t fix it. Ossë spends the whole voyage backstroking next to their ship and sarcastically quoting Annatar back at himself, Years of the Trees insults about being made weak and pathetic by love, until Annatar nearly lunges over the side as a wolf to tear his throat out.

[blueikeproductions]

Y’know thinking it over, I think one of the reasons TFONE failed, after looking at other comments, is it ultimately did nothing new. The marketing didn’t help, but I’ve noticed a lot of people be irritated at the modern 13 Prime concept and the more modern political bent (no longer Cold War inspired, but instead some mild identity politics and heavier ideological differences that modern audiences have notably struggled with) persisting, and this movie does little to change that.

The Bayformers films, love ‘em or hate ‘em, ultimately tried new things: The Allspark, reinventing the Prime mythology for its canon, Sentinel Prime as the best villain the series had, a group of ancient Autobot Knights that Optimus was apparently part of alongside the Dinobots, and so forth.

What did TFONE actually offer that was new?

Well.

Not much.

It was a complete retreading of the Aligned backstory we’ve been given for the past decade or so: Optimus and Megatron were former friends that overthrew a corrupt system that Megatron kept rebelling against, starting the Great War.

The same story that Prime did, that Cyberverse did, that IDW did, that Netflix WFC did, sure a few things were reshuffled but it’s the same, slagging story. TFONE even recycled Sentinel Prime as the main antagonist again, his motives not that dissimilar from his Spock adjacent counterpart.

People complain about the Great War being over done, but that’s clearly not stopping people eagerly tuning into Skybound’s version of it as of typing. General audiences, like it or not, vastly prefer the war between the Autobots and Decepticons, they don’t care about Grunkle Vegeta Megatron, his younger years as D-16 and his tumultuous friendship with Orion Pax.

The only thing new TFONE technically did was better establish Optimus and Megatron as being good friends originally. Aligned and the other series did a terrible job with this, with it ping pinging between Megatron already being power hungry and insane, he just hid it better, to him and Optimus being written as a couple who had a bad break up but can’t get over each other. TFONE still leans towards the later, not helping current situations but at least you do legitimately feel bad this time the friendship fell apart. The friendship was actually believable, that was the strength, but alas most people don’t really like the idea of Prime and Megs being friends.

It’s why I still feel the upcoming Age of Primes toy line will struggle, because once again, the 13 Primes are not a well known aspect of the lore, and modern shows haven’t done a great job at fleshing out Solus or Quintus, and stuff often falls back on Alpha Trion, a character from the old cartoon that people simply are more familiar with.

We desperately need to flesh these characters out better, we need to go back to a Vector Prime befriends the modern kids and Autobots plot for each Prime to make sense of them going forward. That’s the only way new fans will get to know them better and actually care.

As for TFONE, with current problems at Hasbro and Paramount, it’s not looking likely this story continues, but whether it inspires cartoons and comics after EarthSpark anyway we don’t know. Clearly the plan was to use TFONE as a springboard for future content, but it simply didn’t make money to justify it. If Hasbro is satisfied with it doing well on Paramount+, then maybe it evens out, but I legitimately believe the core problem has been trying to make the Aligned canon stick to most modern media when it clearly isn’t. I think we need a new approach, keep the Primes if you want, but don’t slavishly have it be the EXACT same story with them in each movie, comic or cartoon. TFONE DID modify the Prime backstory so that’s a good step, but whether they take that for future cartoons we don’t know.

[bibleofficial]

wallpaper is insane like u find a product w an ugly print ? wallpaper it. just multiple uncoordinated things put together ? wallpaper it. ugly door ? wallpaper it. ugly wall ? landlord won’t let me wallpaper it

[floralovebot]

listen,, i am Not defending all of sky's actions or his personality but he's genuinely just not as bad as the fandom makes him out to be.

a lot of y'all forget that sky is a prince with extremely overbearing and downright abusive parents that refuse to listen to him or treat him with any ounce of respect. and that the whole diaspro vs bloom situation was started directly because his parents forced an arranged marriage between diaspro and sky, constantly telling her parents that it would work out and never listening to sky the hundreds of times he tried to stop it. like again, he's not great, he's my least favorite specialist. but that situation was never in his favor. he was a 16 year old that dealt with strict, emotionally abusive parents his entire life and got forced into an arranged marriage with someone he never loved and was constantly told that it Needed to happen for the kingdom. trying to play it out like he's a serial cheater with some nefarious master plan is like,, really weird. again! not a great person he does a lot of shitty things. but blaming that specific situation on him, a teen with absolutely no say in his life who just met someone he genuinely likes and could love, instead of his parents is incredibly weird to me.

[chuluoyi]

✎ attraction

- gojo satoru x reader

to think it started with your crush on his best friend...

genre: high school!gojo being a menace, jealous!gojo but he doesn’t realize it? enemies to lovers, fluff, gojo begins pining on you

note: thank you anon who asks for gojo falling in love with a first year! i added some spice though haha

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Back in 2006—

There was this tiny weeny part of Gojo that was like... questioning, how did his best friend Geto Suguru catch your eye, whereas he didn’t? Like, at all?

"I want Geto."

"Hah?" Gojo arched a righteous brow, swiftly turning your way—feeling the stings of irritation gnawing at him. "What?"

You shot him a look. “I said, you suck and I’m lamenting that I’m paired with you instead of Geto for this mission.”

Once upon a time, you did hate him for obvious reasons as other people do. He was obnoxious, boastful and overall grating on your nerves.

Well, actually, “hate” would be too strong of a word, so probably “dislike greatly” it is.

“Ehh, Suguru? With you?” Gojo glanced at you, purposefully scrunching his face into a mocking sneer. “No way. Absolutely not. Incompatible. I won’t give him my blessings.”

“Who are you to grant blessings?” you hissed with a bulging vein of frustration. “And no, it's not what you think! I—” you wanted to kick yourself for stumbling over your words, “—I just respect him in a way an underclassman would!”

Gojo let out a strained laugh.

To him, you were this cute little junior who looked funny when mad. Riling you up was on his daily to-do list, and poking fun at your obvious crush on his best friend was supposed to double the fun, until it made him wonder despite himself... just what exactly did Suguru have that he apparently lacked, leading you to always follow him with your eyes, whereas you spared him with nothing but glares and sharp retorts?

You didn’t exactly hide your feelings. Whenever Geto was nearby or greeted you in the mornings, you'd blush like a tomato. It was silly, because Gojo was sure his best friend’s type wasn’t a girl as skittish as you—surely, it must be someone as vivacious as Inoue Waka.

He knew you were doomed to fail.

"I suggest you go pick up some slack," he teased. "Better if you don't become a dead weight while assisting him in missions, no?"

He knows. Really.

"...do you know that there are only three things I can't stand here?"

"And those are?"

But...

"Your stupid glasses, your Limitless—and you."

He was still irked, regardless.

"Well, poor you, then," he shrugged, shit-eating grin on his face. This time he pushed his luck. "Do you know that you're nowhere nearing Suguru's type?"

Scratch that. You hate him. You turned to him with a reddened face, and it wasn't because you were blushing.

"I'm going by myself!" you declared, seething. "I couldn't care less about what you're about to do—I'm finishing this and going home!"

With that, you you marched towards the haunted house, paying no heed to his taunts behind you.

You felt a wave of embarrassment washing over. Gojo always messed with you and normally you would chalk it up as one of his shits—but this time, you didn't appreciate how he touched on that sore spot of your not-so-hidden infatuation with Geto. So what if you weren't his ideal type? He didn't have to be mean!

But soon you regretted leaving his side, as a monstrous cursed spirit quickly chased you out.

Gojo was still outside, bidding his time. He merely huffed when he heard you screaming in fear.

He was ready with a jab. "Well, well... Look who's running back into my arms—"

But his smirk quickly fell when he saw the cursed entity was apparently way beyond your level. You ran out—no, by some idiotic impulse of survival, you actually leapt out of the two-story window and almost fell flat on your face and broke your bones, but before then, he sprung to action, catching you, wrapping one arm on your waist.

You were grateful you that you weren't doomed—until you felt yourself dangling mid air in his hold... like a cat.

"Gojo!" you wailed. "I'm going to fa—!"

Oh, but Gojo was convinced that this was his moment to shine. He directed a smirk your way as the bright blue mass in his hand totally caught your attention. With one swift flick of his hand, he muttered the mantra for Blue, and exorcised the cursed spirit in one go.

He marveled at his own show of power—and hoping that somehow, you would too. Then, he placed his hand under your knees, repositioning you in a princess-carry, and the way your gentle curves nestled snugly in his arms sparked some intriguing thoughts in him.

Your wide, crystal-clear eyes gazed at him with such wonder. Red tinted your cheeks. The corners of his mouth curved into a winning smile.

It was at that exact moment when he realized it: he wants you. This funny girl who often made his day, he wanted you to look at his way too.

...but goddamnit, you like Suguru.

"Well, not that scary now with me around, isn’t it?" he boldly announced, and your amazed expression immediately turned into a cute frown.

"Thanks," you blurted, still with rosy cheeks and looked frazzled, but then you realized the state you were in his arms. "But—put me down!"

"Ehhh, I will if your feet can reach the ground!"

Who cares if you like Suguru? As he burst into snickers and you screamed at his face, Gojo Satoru decided then and there—in that spring of 2006—that he would make it his mission to win you over. To make you his.

And years later, not only he achieved that but also so much more—a ring on your finger serving as the testament to his success.

Epilogue

"Yaga-sensei," Geto sighed wearily. "Can I be paired with Shoko, please?"

"Geto-san, wait, please—" you frantically tried to explain, glaring at Gojo in the process. "I'll do my best so—"

"You're such a bother, even Suguru doesn't want to go on missions with you," the white-haired clown remarked with an evil grin. "Right, Suguru?"

"No, Satoru—"

"Well, but if it's me, I'll gladly mentor and teach you though~"

"I don't want you! You're so insufferably annoying!"

"Yaga-sensei, can I please get paired with someone else—"

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei !

contents: tooth rotting fluff w a dash of angst! established relationship (married), second person & told from yuuji’s pov. extremely whipped satoru! petnames, suggestive dialogue

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

yuuji was initially ecstatic about the prospect of living with gojo-sensei. he’d imagined lazing around, gorging on sweets and watching cartoons on tv — maybe a few training sessions squeezed in with gojo-sensei — ideally it would’ve been just the two of them.

his fantasies came crashing down when realised gojo-sensei’s “house” was actually a “home”. the walls in the foyer were riddled with picture frames. he felt like he was intruding on gojo-sensei’s personal life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures on the walls.

there was a woman beside gojo-sensei in most of the pictures. she had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. a friend? or a girlfriend? — nah. according to fushiguro, gojo-sensei got zero play. though she had to mean something to him. it was evident in the way he looked at her.

his cerulean eyes entirely averted the camera lens, instead devoted to committing every inch of her to memory

“that’s my wife” gojo said softly,“she’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he laughed wryly as he stared lovingly at the smiling woman in the photo. yuuji nodded slowly, studying his teacher closely.

“is she okay with me hiding out here?” he asked tentatively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“ahhh about that” gojo says sheepishly, “i haven’t had the time to mention it to her so you’ll have to wait here while i talk to her” he ran a hand through his hair, snowy white tendrils curling around his fingers.

classic gojo-sensei.

“oh” yuuji chuckled, the situation was amusing to him. he couldn’t wait to tell fushiguro — the sour reminder that he couldn’t had his laughter dying in his throat.

gojo-sensei shrugged off his shoes and patted yuuji’s shoulder, “don’t worry she’ll say yes , i’ve got her wrapped around my finger”

yuuji waited patiently in the foyer, amber eyes flickering over the expensive decor and woodsy frames of gojo-sensei’s family. he could faintly make out traces of your conversation

"oh? you're home early for once" you smiled, leaning into your husband as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "what's the special occasion 'toru?"

"do i need a reason to want to see my beautiful wife?”

“nope” you hummed, “‘m just surprised to see you” not that you were complaining. satoru was a busy man and you cherished the rare moments you spent alone together

“how was your day sweets?” he asked, taking your hand in his, his thumb stroked over knuckles, soft, loving.

“same old” you shrugged, “we’ve got some big case coming up next week, so i was pretty busy today. had a tonne of paperwork and meetings too"

"my busy bee" he smiles, "i missed you s'much, i hate going on these stupid business trips"

"you'd like them more if i came with you" you said teasingly, poking his rib with your free hand "i ran into kento the other day, you sure i shouldn't come back to jujutsu sorcery too?"

"nuh uh" he shook his head firmly, "stay at your law firm pretty, 'm gonna need someone to defend me when i kill all the higher ups"

"what have they done now?" you sigh exasperatedly, turning the knob on the gas cooker and reducing the heat. the faint clicking sound echoes in the kitchen as the orange-blue flames simmered quietly.

"what haven't they done" he grumbled, leaning against the counter. he gently tugged at his blindfold, lithe fingers unveiling the cerulean eyes that you loved so much. his snowy hair fell softly around his face, a curtain that failed to hide the anger he felt coursing through his veins.

"poor baby" you cooed, hands trailing up to his face and cupping his cheeks, your fingers smoothed over the frown etched on his face, pushing his lips together in a duck-lipped pout, "wanna tell me about it?"

"y'know yuuji? the new first year that's sukuna's vessel?"

you nod, allowing your hands to fall from his face and rest on the counter. his greedy hands make their way to your waist, rubbing circles on the soft flesh peeking out beneath your untucked dress shirt.

"well they sent the first years on a mission to rescue people from the detention center, after sending me on that stupid mission overseas mind you, and the kid had to fight a special grade curse"

"is he okay?" you ask, hands ghosting over satoru's bigger, veiny ones. he sighs, a look of mild irritation fleeting over his face at the memory. in retrospect, none of that mattered now. he was home.

"yeah he's fine" he shrugs, "sukuna ripped his heart out and he died, but he revived him eventually"

"your definition of fine is questionable satoru" you snicker, and he feels his heart melting at the sound of your laughter. "why'd they send them on that mission anyways?"

"they just want yuuji dead, he was supposed to be executed remember? and they're really scared of sukuna which is crazy 'cause he's kinda weak"

"someone needs to humble you" you say, amusement dripping from your words like honey, "pride comes before fall 'toru"

"you humble me all the time sweets" he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"i'm just doing the universe a favour" you tease, "what do you want for dinner? rice? noodles? or we could order food from that thai joint you like if you want”

"i'll eat anything you cook sweets,” he murmurs, “though i have something else i wouldn’t mind eating”

“satoru” you gasped, “you just got home and you’re already trying to get between my legs” you smack his shoulder playfully

“i’ve missed her too” he shrugs, “i’ve missed all of you”

you shook your head, “can’t believe i married such a feen” a languid smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you could try all you wanted to resist his charms, but he’d always win in the end

"so...about yuuji" satoru starts, testing the waters, "the higher ups really want him gone, i can't keep him at jujutsu tech right now"

"i can see why you wouldn't" you hum, leaning on the tips of your toes to reach for the salt. satoru had a habit of placing the things you needed in places you couldn't reach just so he could have the honour of retrieving them for you

“need help with that sweets?” he asks eagerly, pushing himself off the counter and sifting through the wooden shelves. he easily brings the jar of salt down and hands it to you

"you have to stop doing this, it’s such an inconvenience" you sighed, but you were grateful nonetheless.“you’re insufferable i swear”

“‘m still yours” he says suavely. satoru’s smile is unwavering though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you can tell the thing with yuuji is weighing heavily on his mind. he’s more restless than usual. his lithe fingers run up and down the counter as he stares into space

“‘toru?” you prompt, nudging him with your elbow, “i can hear you thinking”

“i don’t know where to keep him” he exhales, “i would ask shoko, or kento but then i’d risk getting them in trouble with the higher ups”

“what about the secret room we found in our third year?” you asked, “you could keep him there, unless they found out about it”

“i would keep him there.. but i just...don't want him to feel alone," he says softly. you didn’t think it was possible to fall even deeper in love with satoru, but he never failed to surprise you. “he's just a kid, so i— i want to look out for him.”

he knows it’s a big ask. you can hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out how to possibly convince you to let sukuna’s vessel stay in your home.

"can he stay?" he pleads, "can yuuji stay with us please? it’s only until the kyoto goodwill event" he's clasping his hands together, imploring you with his infinitely blue eyes. you raise an eyebrow. knowing satoru, yuuji was probably waiting around in the foyer

"he's already here isn't he?" you ask, shaking your head fondly as a guilty look flickers across his face. classic satoru. although you would've loved for him to give you a heads up, you didn't mind a bit. it would be nice to have some company when satoru went on his missions

 “i didn’t really have time to plan all the details before bringing him with me” he says, sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck, his fingers brushed against the soft strands of his undercut, "are you mad? don't be mad baby"

"no" you laugh, "i'm not mad 'toru, he can stay"

it’s the little things like this that make you realise just how much power you have over him. within seconds your husband is whirling you around, hands gripping your waist tightly and pressing chaste kisses on your face as he sets you down

"yuuji she said you can stay" a wide grin blooms across his face as he bounds into the foyer excitedly. the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, reduced to the faint resemblance of a child getting their first sleepover approved

you set the jar of salt down on the marbled counter. trailing after your husband. true to your suspicions, yuuji itadori had been standing awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together in his hoodie pockets and silently taking in the intricacies of your home.

he couldn’t help but feel out of place.

there were pairs of everything — shoes neatly arranged on the coat rack. umbrellas tucked in a corner in the foyer. coats hung up next to each other on the wall.

the pale blue wallpaper hung row after row of framed photographs. their wooden mahogany panels reflected the warm lights. yuuji’s light brown eyes flickered on the pictures in all their glory and glossy sheen.

the ones that caught his eye captured a young fushiguro’s trademark scowl, the irritated quirk of his brow and the curled spikes of his hair that defied gravity.

he was standing beside a girl who looked just like him, except she was slightly taller with long bone-straight brown hair. yuuji’s eyes lingered on her smile as your beanstalk of a husband shook him excitedly

he wondered what fushiguro would say if he knew he’d seen pictures of him as a little kid. ( he’d probably summon his shikigami on him )

“really?” he beamed, eyes momentarily drawn away from the plethora of frames. you feel your heart melt into a sickly sweet puddle of happiness and warmth, as you watch satoru drape his arm over yuuji’s shoulder

“yes really” you laugh, “it’s nice to finally meet you yuuji, you’re a friend of megumi’s right?”

yuuji nods frantically, his mop of pink curls bouncing enthusiastically . his mannerisms were nervous and eager. he wanted to fit in. he wanted you to like him. you could tell — he reminded you oddly of your husband ( they were practically the same person in different fonts )

“speaking of megumi, he doesn’t know yuuji’s alive so please don’t let it slip when he calls you” satoru murmurs, taking slow steps towards you.

he knows he’s asking for too much now. you practically raised megumi and it would be nearly impossible for you to keep something like this from him. satoru can see the cogs spinning in your head, the subtle anger in your heart and for the first time in years he’s afraid.

“we’ll talk about this later” you say through gritted teeth. he pleads silently with his eyes and you swallow your protests, you exhale loudly before turning towards yuuji again “c’mon yuuji, i’ve just started on dinner”

yuuji kicks off his shoes and nudges them neatly beneath the shoe rack before padding after you. satoru isn’t far behind

“it smells really good mrs. gojo” yuuji says politely, as he takes a seat by the kitchen island, legs dangling as he drums on the smooth marbled counter.

“thank you yuuji” you beamed, “do you prefer rice or noodles?”

“ahh i’m not really picky” he says, “i like all kinds of food really, but i suppose rice? if it isn’t too much of a hassle, i really don’t want to be a bother-”

“slow down yuuji” you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “i’m really glad to have you here, it gets kinda lonely when ‘toru’s away on business trips so make yourself at home okay?”

no wonder gojo-sensei was always happy, his wife was an angel. yuuji thought as he nodded fervently

“i can make the rice baby” satoru offers, his hands make their way around your waist, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch. you’re mad at him, and he knows you have every right to be

“thank you” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could muster, “come with me yuuji, i’ll show you around”

yuuji was positive he was intruding now, standing in the middle of megumi’s room while you stripped navy blue pinstripe sheets off his bed and replaced them with canary dressings.

“are you sure i can sleep here?” he asks, “ i don’t mind taking the couch..”

you seemed horrified at the idea of yuuji sleeping alone on the couch. he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him here. he was so used to being unwanted

growing up with his grandpa was something he wouldn’t trade for the world, yet he’d always craved the warmth of a mother. a mother’s love was the purest, and there was nothing more blameless than the softness in your (e/c) eyes when you looked at him

“i mind yuuji” you frowned” and i want you to stay in gumi’s room, his clothes should fit you since you’re around the same height”

“thank you again for letting me crash here” yuuji didn’t think he could say it enough. he didn’t deserve such kindness, not when the king of curses lived rent free in his head

“don’t mention it yuuji” you said, “i meant what i said downstairs, i could really use the company”

you ruffled his hair softly before resuming your ministrations of making the bed. you tucked crisp sheets beneath the mattress and fluffed up pillows with ease.

“you’re a really good mom, why don’t you and gojo-sensei have any kids of your own?” yuuji only realises the question is slightly insensitive after the words hang in the air and an unreadable look fleets across your face, “i’m so sorry that was really rude of me-”

“you’re good yuuji” you laugh, you sit down on the freshly laid duvet and pat the space beside you. yuuji hesitates but he sits down eventually

“it just never happened y’know? we adopted tsu and gumi a few years back, plus toru’s always seen his students as his kids, he cares about you guys a lot”

“even me?” it doesn’t seem plausible to him. all he’s seemed to do is cause problems for gojo-sensei ever since he ate that gross finger

“especially you yuuji” you smiled, ruffling his hair, “you remind me of him funny enough, even though i used to hate him back in our school days”

“really?” he gawked, he was practically falling over megumi’s bed with anticipation.

“really” you affirmed , “he was a real piece of work back then, i bet he’s the reason yaga has so many grey hairs”

“how’d you fall in love with him then?” yuuji enquires, brown eyes sparkling with immense curiosity “and how’d you meet?”

“are you guys gossiping about me?” satoru gasps, peeking around the doorway, “how mean of you yuuji, i thought we were friends”

“ahhh we weren’t gossiping per-say, mrs. gojo was about to tell me how you met”

“can i tell him?” satoru’s eyes sparkle, “the way i remember it i walked into the common room and cherry blossoms started falling, classical piano was playing softly in the background and-”

“that didn’t happen” you said, “he’s finally going senile” you tried and failed to push satoru out the doorway but he stood his ground.

he stood almost toe to toe with you, a pleased grin blooming on his face as he towered over you. yuuji’s eye’s flickered between you and your husband, cheeks dusted a rosy pink as he stifled giggles

“it did happen!” satoru insisted, “i’m sure shoko has a recording of it somewhere, now as i was saying.. she took one look at me and fell head over heels in love”

“you’re deluded” you muttered, “i didn’t love you until our second year, get your facts right”

“so you did fall head over heels in love with me” he grinned, “so early too? i knew you couldn’t resist my charms — owww!”

satoru feigns as you finally manage to shove him out the door after hitting his shoulder. by now, yuuji is a spluttering mess on the soft tatami mats lining megumi’s floor

“i’ll tell you what really happened one of these days” you said over your shoulder, “you can shower and settle in, take as long as you need, we’ll wait for you to come downstairs before we start eating”

your smile falls the moment the door clicks shut behind you. satoru feels his heart shattering. he’s so sure he’s going to die because his wife is mad at him. the universe might as well combust into nothing but ashes

“baby-” satoru starts, catching your wrist in his palm. he grips the bone loosely, careful not to hurt you “‘m sorry, you know that, but megumi can’t know”

you trudge down the stairs in silence, opting only to speak when you’re seated beside satoru in the living room. your cat natsu watches you wearily from her cat post, slanted eyes shooting satoru a well meaning glare.

“you can’t ask me to keep this from him” you said, shaking your head, eyes looking everywhere but your husband’s piercing blue gaze. “you’re taking things too far now”

“i know” his voice is a mere whisper, the words barely speak themself into existence, “i’m being selfish again, but you’ve gotta understand (y/n)”

“i can’t” you splutter, you feel tears treading your waterline “put yourself in his shoes, c’mon satoru we’ve seen him at his worst, why would we do something that could hurt him?”

“i’m not doing this to hurt megumi, i’m doing this to protect yuuji”

“just think about it please” you frowned, “if instead of executing suguru they kept him alive and let us think he was dead, you’d never forgive them”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice catches over the three syllables. he doesn’t miss the way your fingers tremble against his forearm. he hates this — arguing with you, he could think of infinite things he’d rather do than this.

“that’s different” his voice is wavering now, “suguru made his choice, yuuji didn’t ask for any of this” he winces as the words fall from his lips. to think he’d stooped to speaking ill of the dead. he doesn’t believe that, not really.

“you still wouldn’t forgive them” you prompted, “and i don’t want ‘gumi to go through any more, tsumiki being in a coma is hard enough as it is”

“i know baby, i know” satoru says softly, he cups your trembling face in his hands and places the sweetest of kisses on the tears that threaten to stream down your cheeks, “trust me on this okay? he’ll be fine i promise”

“okay” you nod, letting your husband, your one and only, wipe away the tears spilling over your lashes.

satoru could really kill the higher ups for putting him in this position. one where he nearly sacrificed his wife’s happiness for something as insignificant as jujutsu sorcery. with his lips still pressed to the corners of yours, he makes a silent vow with himself

it would be you before everything. it was you before everything

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip “you. are. everything. to. me” he punctuates each word with a kiss. his lips committing every inch of you to memory

they ghost over your cheek, your quivering lip, your shoulder, your wrist, and finally the silver wedding band encasing your ring finger. and they linger on the cool silver for what seems to be eternity before satoru speaks up again

“dance with me?” he prompts, although he’s not really asking. he’s already whisking you onto your feet and starting up the record player. the vinyl spins on its axis, as constant as his infinite love for you.

“what?” you sniffed slightly, “like we did in our first year?”

“like we did in our first year”

satoru’s hands were on your hip, drawing you closer, he felt your chest brush against his for a second as he leaned into you. you swayed gently side to side, keeping in time with the intricate melodies streaming from the gramophone

his six eyes tell him his student is watching, listening. curious doe eyes peeking from the stairwell. he doesn’t mind. satoru had never been one to hide his affection. you were his. and he was infinitely yours.

“can i tell you a secret?” satoru murmurs, as he twirls you back into his arms. he wishes he could stay like this forever. with you. he’d selfishly sacrifice the universe to keep having moments like this. he would kill for you. he’s positive he would. he’d do it without hesitation.

“i thought we didn’t have any of those” you quipped. satoru feels his heart melting. watching the sadness in your eyes fade into utter bliss was like watching the sun come out after a rainy day. maybe even better.

“it’s a good one i promise” he grins, you raise a brow sceptically but you’re listening “i was the one who fell head over heels in love with you. way back in our first year…and i didn’t even know what love was, i was so confused”

“when did you know?” you asked, “you always say you knew the moment you saw me, but you were an asshole then”

“it was the first time we snuck out together” he admits, “when we went to that night market. you were right, i was jealous of suguru but could you blame me? i wanted you all to myself”

“you’ve always been so greedy” you giggled. satoru doesn’t need the six eyes to see that you love him regardless. it’s evident in the tenderness of your tone and the way your (e/c) sparkle when you look at him

“cut me some slack baby” he groans “i’m trying to be romantic”

“you don’t need to try, i heard through the grapevine i can’t resist your charms” you hummed

satoru cracks a smile at the inside joke, a slow symphony of contentment.he kisses you again and it’s sweet and full of blind adoration. loving you is his religion. the only thing he’s wholly committed to. your hands looped around his neck, carefully avoiding the ever-so-sensitive scar that ran beneath his chin

your hands founds repose in the soft strands of his hair, carefully threading through the ivory curls. satoru could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

yuuji peered at the scene with stars in his eyes. he knew he should look away. that this moment was sacred, strictly for the two of you. but he’d never seen gojo like this before — completely vulnerable, completely himself in the confines of your embrace.

here he wasn’t the strongest, the richest, the one-man clan, the one whose mere existence shifted the balance of the world. here, he wasn't satoru gojo, he wasn't gojo-sensei, he was just 'toru.

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 11 -

M.List : Previous Part : 6.7k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

---

Small beeping machines filled the silence between you and Katsuki as you waited for the doctor to walk in. Your condition wasn't bad so you only had a small room that was used for typical check-ups. The only reason you got the room was to avoid the public due to the status you and Katsuki shared.

The only reason you were in the ER was because even over the course of two months and a handful of weeks, your injury from the break-in was still thin. All healed but the skin was still pink and raised. A wound that goes straight through never fully heals. Katsuki still had issues with his from first year.

You often woke up to him grasping his chest and reaching for pain meds in the middle of the night. Mumbling that he was fine and that you could go back to sleep.

With how closed off he was about his pain, it reminded you of high school, how he avoided any conversation that dared to mention his pain. If you even suggested a support item that put less strain on his arm, he would snap and tell you to do what he says.

Always claiming he didn't need your help.

In the second year, he broke his leg. More so, it shattered it. It was a stupid mistake on his part during a practical exam. He was helping a 'citizen' escape a collapsing building and tripped on the way out. Everything was fine before he tripped but his foot was caught under cement when a support beam fell on his leg.

He pushed the citizen out of the way before they got hurt, everyone saw him get crushed by the building instead. You were watching his class do the practice so you could get a closer look at what might help them.

The practical didn't stop for anyone else, his classmates helped him from the ruble, mainly Kirishima and Uraraka. Lifting the support beam off him and analyzing his condition before taking him out of the exam.

You met them in the hallway, seeing the way Katsuki bit his lip in pain, face entirely scrunched.

He passed out from pain when he was set down in Recovery Girl's room. She rushed you out after that, telling you that he'd be fine when he woke up.

When he did wake up, you were by his side to help him out of the bed. His entire leg was in a cast, that he'd luckily only have to wear a week. At first, he pushed you away and refused any help. But after he got settled in his dorm room, he gave in the slightest bit.

"This is fucking stupid."

"I know," you sighed, sitting next to him on his bed.

"I hate this."

"I know," you adjusted the pillow that was placed under his injured foot. Him lifting it to make it easy.

He sighed heavily, letting his head fall into his pillow.

"Are you in pain right now?" you asked softly, his face was scrunched as if he was in pain.

"No."

You placed your hand on his gently. He had his hands folded together on his stomach. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

You hummed, not knowing what path to take. He was always strange after he was in pain, always running from how he actually felt.

His hands opened for yours, grasping your fingers in his as he stared down at them. "Did you get that new book you were talking about?"

"Hm?" you shuffled to face your body towards him, careful of his legs as you sat on your own.

"The shitty romance one."

"Everything I read is shitty romance to you," you teased, "But yes, I grabbed it before school today."

"What is it now? The fifth fucking book?"

A gentle laugh left you, "Almost, it's the fourth one."

"God damn, you've been reading it since we were 10."

"You've been reading your comics since you could read and I don't tease you for it," you squeezed his hand playfully.

"Mines about blowing shit up, yours are about blowing people."

"Bakugo!" you flushed.

"What? M'Not wrong," he snickered.

"The third book is the only one that went there," you defend, "I only read that one last year. Shouldn't have told you about it."

"Didn't need to, literally caught you red-faced as you read it," he teased.

"Shut up!" you slapped at his shoulder with your free hand.

"It's not like that's the only book like that you read," he laughed, "You have thousands of that filth."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Shut up!"

Katsuki settled his laughter. Thankfully letting the topic go.

He let go of your hands for a moment to wipe them on the bed next to him. He's always been paranoid of his sweat, you assumed a girl in middle school teased him for it and he's been embarrassed since. But you knew he'd never admit it, so you didn't bother to comfort him about it.

"Why do you read that stuff anyway?"

"What? Porn?" you flushed, not really wanting to talk to him about this. You've been dating for a month at this point. Your nerves were on edge at the thought of that territory. No amount of books could prepare you for taking that step with him. You weren't oblivious to how other relationships progressed, you knew how guys thought.

"No," he blushed, "Like the romance shit."

"Oh," you sighed, either in relief or disappointment that the untouched territory remained untouched. "I guess because it's thrilling?"

"How is that thrilling?"

"Like-" you fumbled your words for an example, "Our first kiss."

"What about it?"

"It was thrilling," you paused, embarrassed, "At least for me."

He hummed in agreement, letting you continue.

"Books do the same, in a way. It brings all the excitement and thrill you feel in real life if it's good enough. I get really immersed in it though, I read as if I'm actually there," you rambled.

"You crave that shit or something?"

"Romance?"

"Yeah."

"Of course I do, don't you?"

He changed the topic with a flush of red on his face, too proud to admit his emotions to anyone as he let his hands drop from yours.

The doctor entering your room now, in the present, ripped your thoughts off the past.

She greeted herself gently, talking to both you and Katsuki about your condition, "Thankfully it's only a surface burn, just needs a week or so to heal. Change the gauze after a shower and avoid getting water directly on it for the first couple of days."

Katsuki's shoulders sagged in relief as he ran his hands over his face.

You knew it wasn't bad, but he was worried. It obviously hurt like a bitch, but you weren't too concerned about it. He had it worse currently. You knew just from the face he was making now. He rushed you to the hospital after he realized what he did. Seeing you collapse onto the coffee table, gasping as you held your side in pain.

"If you could step out for a moment, I can finish checking her over and get you guys out of here," the doctor spoke calmly towards Katsuki, "Sir?"

He snapped his attention towards her, clearly having zoned out after she said you were okay, "What?"

"Would you mind waiting outside? We'll meet you on her way out after I ensure everything is set in place."

"The hell?" he pushed himself off the wall.

"I don't mind him being in here," you informed the doctor.

"It'd be best if he stepped out," she gave you a concerned look.

You sighed, she was kind and you didn't want Katsuki to get riled up, "Kats?"

He glared at you for a moment before giving in, "Fine." He walked out of the room with no extra fuss, grabbing your jacket for you on the way out. Making sure to stand so you could see him through the small window provided.

The doctor cleared her throat, "I have some protocol questions for you." You nodded your head for her to continue. She flipped a page on her clipboard, "Do you feel safe at home?"

"Yes," you took a breath in, prepared for the rush of questions.

She looked up from her clipboard, you already answered these questions with Katsuki near you. "This is a safe place, I understand his status might be frightening but I assure you-"

"Stop, he doesn't abuse me."

"Ma'am-"

"I'm safe at home, I promise. I know hero abuse cases are commonly untold but this isn't one," you knew that it was unfortunately common for heroes to get away with abuse. Abusing people who were scared of their status and denying any claims of it. They got away with it almost every time too.

"I apologize," she eyed you, still unsure of if you were telling the truth or not, "I'm just going on what's provided, the wound is shaped as a hand, on both sides."

You winced at the realization, hoping it wouldn't scar. Katsuki saw it already and you knew it didn't help his guilt. "Am I good to leave?" you huffed, annoyed that the healthcare thought your boyfriend abused you, and that your boyfriend thought he did too.

"Yes, but just know," she frowned, "Regardless if you need it or not, there are many resources available for help if needed."

While you were happy she cared and protected her clients, you felt horrible about leaving Katsuki alone to his thoughts. He likely knew the questions the doctor was asking, so you wanted to be by his side to assure him that wasn't what you thought of him in the slightest.

You followed all her steps to leave, having Katsuki tag along behind you until you got to the car. He opened the door for you, hesitating to help you sit down. Rather than offer a hand, he offered his forearm.

When he shut your door, going around to the driver's side, you let yourself relax. You hated hospitals with a passion. They always put you in the worst mood. The air was always stale, and tragedies were always happening in it. It reminded you that any day now, it'd be you facing those tragedies. Katsuki often made you sit in waiting rooms as he got healed from a nasty injury, and you hated it more each time.

But he was here now, that's all that matters. So you scolded your face as you smiled at him. Happy to have him sitting in the driver's seat next to you.

"I'm so glad to be out of there," you hummed. They gave you some pain meds to get through today, so you weren't in any pain. The situation didn't even bug you, though you knew others would disagree.

Katsuki shared no words as he started the car. He's hardly spoken since the two of you left the apartment. Only frantic questions to determine if you were okay or not.

"You okay?" you asked softly.

"Hm?" he hummed, entirely unfocused as he pulled the car out of the parking garage.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

"Katsuki."

"What?"

"It's obvious you're not."

"M'tired," he shrugged.

You huffed in reply. Sure it was late, especially for him, but you knew that wasn't it. You knew somewhat what he was thinking already. You also knew how he would process it. He'd hold this guilt to himself until It was too much to carry himself, and he'd still carry it. His process was predictable but also unpredictable in the same ways. Sometimes he'd want you near, just your presence. Other times he wouldn't want you anywhere near him.

All you could do was show him he had someone if he wanted it. You'd avoid pushing him until you knew he needed it.

So in an attempt to do just that, you let the hand closest to his fall to reach his forearm and squeeze, a small squeeze that was just meant to show love.

He jolted away, moving away as if your hand was the touch of death.

"Sorry," you mumbled in shock, your hand reeled back and held to your chest in surprise. He's reacted negatively to your touch before, but nothing near this. It scared you about how he'd process this.

"Just-" he took a breath, flickering his eyes onto you for a moment before looking back at the road, "Don't."

"Okay."

---

Changing the gauze that night was awkward.

You called him into the bathroom once you were done with your shower and dressed. He padded into the room slowly, his head down as he got the gauze ready.

"You didn't take the wrapping off in the shower?" he asked once you lifted your shirt for him to see your sides.

"Um, no?" you looked down, "Just rip it off for me."

"I don't wanna hurt you," he shook his head.

With a huff, you carefully took your bandage off yourself. Peeling it off your skin before throwing it away. You hopped to sit on the counter, letting him get a clear view of your side.

The wince at your bare skin was obvious. His face furrowed, "You can't change it yourself?"

"Just change it, please? I can't get a good look at it."

"You can just use the mirror-"

"Bakugo," you scolded, "Just bandage it please?"

He huffed, looking from your side to the bandage, then to his hands. "Can I call Mei to do it?"

"You can't avoid touching me forever," you pointed out. 

"I'm not avoiding shit," he glared at you.

"Then change it yourself," you challenged.

He bit his tongue, obviously looking for another excuse to use, "Isn't this too personal?"

"Huh? Literally how?" you asked confused. Out of all the excuses he uses that one?

"I mean, I'm under your shirt-"

"These are your handprints-" you spoke without thinking, stopping when you saw his face drop further, "You've seen me get off, I don't think bandaging a burn on my side is too personal."

His face flushed, "Don't."

You took his warning and didn't bring up anything more 'scandalous' for his sake, "Can you just patch me up so we can go to sleep?"

He nodded before washing his hands off quickly, it reminded you of how he reacted to you. It was reassuring in its own way. It felt nice to know that you gave him butterflies even though he'd never admit it. He was so soft for you, it was sweet.

The wound didn't hurt too much as he put the gauze over both sides, bandaging it after. The drugs were doing their job, tomorrow you'd have to remember to take Advil or something to help.

Katsuki stared while he bandaged your side, traumatizing himself from how he hurt you.

Not wanting him to be in his head, you spoke, "Not too bad."

He offered his arm to help you off the counter, supporting your weight as you hopped down.

Even though you didn't need it, you let him help in the ways he wanted. Letting him pull back the sheets for you, and letting him tuck you in before going to his side. 

If you mentioned how much he was babying you, you knew he'd stop. You also knew that he would pout and fully push himself away from you. So you'd take what you would get.

He was being sweet after all, no harm in letting him continue like this.

"Thank you," you mumbled after he placed his phone down, alarm set for the next day. 

He grumbled out a noise of confusion before he shuffled to face you better. Wanting eye contact despite the dark room. 

"For fixing me up," you spoke softly.

Katsuki just kind of looked at you for a moment. Expressionless before a frown slowly turned his lips, "I'm the one that did it."

"It was a joint effort," you smiled, trying to lighten the moment.

"It's my handprints."

"That may be true but-"

"No buts."

"I was the only one pushing you to get so worked up," you defended him.

He rolled his eyes, moving to lay back down, "Doesn't matter, I know better."

Not wanting him to hold this to himself you tried to argue, "Kats-"

"Go to sleep," his voice was shot dry, only an inch of his actual emotion showing.

"Okay," you whispered. You lightly placed your hand on his back, trying to comfort him. His body trembled lightly.

He often shook when upset.

So you ran your hand soothingly up and down his back.

Despite his claims of wanting to be left alone, to not have any help, he fell asleep quickly with your hand rubbing his back. You followed suit. Letting your thoughts run wild.

You didn't get a single negative from the interaction, you were more so wrapped in the before. Before he burned your sides, which you knew he didn't mean to.

But before, he was kissing you with fever. Like a man starved. One simple challenge had him riled up. Grabbing onto you roughly to pull you closer to him. Letting you lick into his mouth before taking over the kiss more roughly. Moving his hands down so he could guide your hips.

If the moment didn't end so roughly, you liked to imagine the route it would take. The way he would groan into your lips. His arms flexed as you ran your hands over them, trying to grasp how real it could have been.

You'd let him have anything he was willing to take. You wanted him to want you, and in those small fleeting moments, he showed it. He showed just how much he wanted to ruin the both of you.

Sleep came easy, but with the arousal of your dream, you woke up at the small movement of him next to you.

It's only been an hour or two since you've fallen asleep, but you made yourself cozy. Ignoring the pain in your side to lay half on top of him. The movement you woke up to was him hugging you closer, his arms wrapped around you with the comfort of sleep on his mind.

You squeezed him tighter in response, selfishly soaking up the closeness while you could get it. Nudging your head into his neck to get closer to him.

"What are y'doing?" he mumbled, groggy with sleep.

With him awake you regretted your actions, he was a light sleeper when he was stressed. "Nothin," you murmured into his neck, leaving a light kiss.

"Doesn't feel like nothing," he hit his chin to your head, making you rise up, his hands falling off your body.

"I love you," you whispered, looking down at him slightly with how you hovered over his side.

He scrunched his nose, "What are y'doin?" he asked again.

You pecked at his face, leaving a light kiss on his nose before peppering kisses on his cheeks. The dream had you more loving than you'd like to admit. He was moving through the steps slowly but surely.

"Knock it," he grumbled. His hands stretched away from you in precaution. 

"You love it," you backed away for a moment to say, when you returned his face was warm, clearly flustered.

You moved your kiss closer to his lips until you hit them, kissing him softly for a moment before he gave in more. Letting you kiss him a couple of times before he locked your lips with his, biting your lip gently to keep you close. Your lips slowly moved together when you moved to get a better position. Your hips straddled his, just like it was in your dream, and just how you were before. Hands lightly cupping his cheeks as you kissed with loving intentions.

When you let your hands drift down to his chest, holding yourself up, you felt his heartbeat. It was racing against your touch, it ran a thrill through you, a smile gracing your lips as you kissed him a little harder.

His hands sparked up, grabbing your attention for a moment before you went to return to kissing. He has his hands placed far enough away that it couldn't hurt both of you. But his face was still scared. His lips kiss-swollen but his eyes were terrified.

"It's okay," you murmured, kissing him lightly, "I'm okay."

"My quirk-" he spoke between your lips.

"Can't hurt me," you stopped for a moment, "Just keep them over there, it's fine.

"The bed," he tried to find a way out.

With worry that he wasn't enjoying anything, you sat back, "We can buy new stuff," you tried to soothe, your hands running up and down his chest. He was breathing heavily. "If this is more worrying than anything, we can stop, Kats."

"Not scared?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Promise not to touch my hands?"

"I'd say pinky but that'd break it," you joked lightly.

He rolled his eyes, "Fine."

"Fine?"

"We can kiss, or whatever," his hands sparked, his eyes averted towards the ceiling.

"I know what you meant, but fine? Sounds like you're not into it, Kats-"

His hips rutted into you harshly, his feet bracing the movement, you lost your balance and were back to hovering over him. "Shuddup," he grumbled before lifting his head slightly, meeting you halfway. 

The thrill that you read for, lit up all your nerves. 

He was fully kissing you despite his quirk. He was fully kissing you. You think if he was more awake, and sat on the thought of hurting you again for longer, then he'd refuse. But he wasn't.

His movement early proved how into this he was. The length of him hard against his boxers. You were thankful that he was a hot sleeper, the thin clothing letting you feel all of him. You've seen him before, felt him underneath you before, but this felt better somehow. It was probably the reassurance that his quirk was fully there. Going off every couple of moments or after a particularly rough kiss. 

Each spark heightened the thrill of it all. 

His lips were pressed against yours, his tongue slipping between to catch you by surprise.

Your hands traced over his chest but settled on his biceps, feeling them twitch roughly before each bout of his quirk.

"I fuckin' love you," he muttered against you. Voice rough with the kiss.

You couldn't help the smile that crossed over your features as you moved your hips over his. Starting the cherished moment that you lost hours ago.

"I love you too, Kats," you whispered into his mouth. 

He groaned at the action, "Wanna touch you."

A spark shot up your spine when you heard his quirk go off again. You needed a breath and with the way his chest was heaving, you could tell he needed one as well. So you took greedy breaths in as you trailed kisses down his jaw and to his neck. Leaving pink marks behind that you knew would bruise. 

The state he was in right now was disorienting, but encouraging. He looked wrecked. His head tilted back so you could kiss more of his throat. His arms strained and fist clenched as he refused to risk touching you. It made you want more. So as selfishly as this started, you continued down that path the same way you continued down his chest. Leaving marks on his pecs before you shifted your body to kiss further down.

"What are y'doing?" he mumbled, tilting his head down to look at you, wanting you closer.

Talking about what you were planning was more embarrassing than doing it. "Can I suck you off?" you asked quickly.

He rolled his head back, "Jesus Christ."

You swallowed nervously, "Can I?" if he rejected you now, it'd be humiliating, but you'd listen.

He tilted his head back down again, looking into your eyes. "Skipping a couple bases, aren't you?"

You sat up straight again, getting more composed than before as you sat on his thighs. "Well yeah- but if you want me to jack you off first-"

A loud spark of his quirk shut you up. "Can't just say that," he hissed.

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"You don't have to do anything."

"But what do you want?" you pushed.

You watched as his atom's apple bobbed as he swallowed, "Anything you're willing."

"But you commented on me skipping bases-"

"We can do those later," he cut you off, flustered.

You hummed, leaning back into his space and kissing his lips. Steadily going back into making out with him again. Moving your hands off his arms, squeezing at his muscles as you made your way down. Still working your lips against him as you slipped your hand underneath his boxers.

His entire body was tense as you moved down, but he jolted lightly when you wrapped your hand around him. The touch was probably still foreign to him. Knowing that he's only gotten off once with his own hand. You knew what he looked like from head to toe, but now you knew what he felt like. A steady vein on the underside, connecting to his tip. Veins lightly graced the rest of him. Not only did his dick surprisingly look good, but it made you want more.

When he bit your lip, you remember to focus on the kiss again. Your tongue tangled with his as you moved your hand over him before you moved it away, taking him out of his boxers for more movement.

Returning with less nerves than before. Grasping him lightly before you ran your hand fully over his dick.

After a few motions of your hand, it was clear he was losing it. The motion became familiar quickly so you were able to focus on his reactions. His hips were gently rocking into your hand. Letting you pump his length as he kissed you messily.

He was entirely unfocused, groaning into the kiss in a desperate attempt to keep you close. To give you anything he would.

"Wanna touch you," he whined into the kiss, hips rutting into your hand quicker.

"I know," you mumbled back.

His abs were tensing and untensing constantly, his hands doing the same.

You were surprised he was lasting this long. Probably more stuck in his head rather than the moment. Hardly even noticing when you stopped kissing him, he started breathing heavier.

Steadying your nerves was difficult as you moved further down his body, placing a kiss on each of his abs gently.

He was out of it, his hips rutting desperately to reach the high he craved.

Throwing yourself into your actions was commonly something you did, so it was only fair you did it now. Hesitantly placing a kiss on his tip when you were able, continuing to pump your hand along his length. It was just the extra push he needed, a broken moan left his lips and his hips slowed as he came in your hand. Quirk going off loudly.

"Fuckin' hell," his voice was shot.

It was unintentional, but he came over your lips, covering parts of your face in his cum. You couldn't blame him, it was as unannounced as you kissing his dick. So you continued to slowly pump your hand. 

"Enough," he basically whined.

Seeing him this wrecked was horrible, it made you want him more. But with a look at the alarm clock on his side, you knew he needed sleep. So you pulled away, moving to sit up straight. Wiping his cum off your lips with the back of your hand.

"Where y'going?" he grumbled, voice rough and eyes half-lidded when he managed to open them.

"Bathroom," you mumbled, you would kiss him, but you didn't want to disgust him.

When the small amount of light from the windows hit your face, his eyes widened, quirk popping off again.

"What?"

"Your face," he choked out, "Sorry."

You laughed lightly, "It's fine."

"Did it get in your mouth-"

"No."

"So you didn't taste-"

"No," you laughed at his questions, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "didn't want spoilers."

His quirk popped off as he moved his head to connect your lips. Wincing away after a moment.

"What?" you asked concerned.

"Don't fucking taste that," his face was sour.

You laughed at his face, moving off him to grab a towel from the bathroom. Cleaning your face before tossing him a wet rag. Him catching it easily from where he was sitting on the bed. "Sorry," he mumbled out.

"Hm?" you hummed, not entirely hearing him.

"Can't get you off and shit," he grumbled.

You laughed lightly, "We'll work around to it eventually I hope, if not, I'm happy just like this with you."

His frown deepened, quickly putting himself back in his boxers before you sat by his side again.

But you paused at the side of the bed. Where his hands were lying was burnt to pieces, a hole being singed into the mattress.

---

Unfortunately, you had work the next day. Though you could use the day off, you didn't want to get behind on work. Or spend another day alone in the apartment. Katsuki left without a goodbye. Only a short text saying he was at work. That was sent two full hours before he normally went in.

You shuffled into your office as usual, looking over the text again. Trying to wrap your head around his behavior since the hospital. It made complete sense for him to be wavery of his quirk, but you've never seen his quirk go off for small touches and he was avoiding those after you returned to bed. Having romance off the table for a while was fine, but everything else? That would be harder to live with. You shared small touches ever since you can remember, so going without that would be beyond weird.

The last two months were like that, and you didn't want to go back to that in the slightest. Sure your career progressed a lot, but you liked having Katsuki around. Even though he hardly gave them, his hugs were the highlight of your week. He flushed anytime you said that, and you didn't want him to take that away.

"What the fuck?"

Mei's pissed-off tone dragged your attention off your phone.

"Huh?"

"You fucking broke up with Bakugo?" she glared at you.

"What are you talking about?" you continued to your desk, throwing your stuff on it without a care.

"Why are you limping?" she did a quick scan over you.

"Sprained ankle," you shrugged off, she already seemed pissed enough, telling her Katsuki blew a hole in your side wouldn't help.

"Deserved, probably broke his heart."

"Since when did you care about his heart?" you glared at her, annoyed at the way she was taking your 'break up.' She was supposed to be your best friend, not his.

"Since you wrongfully broke it."

"He's fine-"

"Deku said he has been moping around all day."

You stopped for a moment, "He has?" you'd need to call him during your lunch break if so.

Mei threw her hands up, "Yes! Obviously! His girlfriend of three years dumped him because she can't get off!"

"Mei, you were telling me just a couple of days ago that I should dump him for that."

"I didn't mean it! There's plenty of other ways to get your rocks off."

"I don't want to hear about it," you cringed.

"You could probably make one-"

"Mei!"

The rest of the day followed on a similar footing. Not so much as ways to get off, but questions on why you and Katsuki broke up. People stopped by constantly asking about it, trying to get their taste of the office gossip.

They took your winces of pain as sadness, somehow, saying apologies and asking their questions after.

You couldn't catch a break, when you called Katsuki he let the call go straight to voicemail. Taking away your small bit of peace.

It made you leave work early, tired of the questions and wanting to meet Katsuki sooner rather than later. You also forgot to take pain meds to deal with your side, so you felt horrible. Regretting slightly how late you stayed up.

In a similar manner of how you entered work, you threw your keys on the table and stepped into the living room. Seeing Katsuki's stalk blonde hair.

"Kats," you placed your hands on his shoulders in greeting. Surprising him from behind the couch.

He jumped out of his skin at the feeling, "When'd you get home?" he turned to you frantically.

"Just a second ago? Did you not hear me?" he could normally sense someone's presence a mile away.

"No," he frowned, turning back away from you, shrugging your hands off his shoulders.

You frowned, moving around the couch to sit next to him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he dismissed, looking down at his phone. Headlines with his name filled his screen, all negative.

"Z' said you've been moping."

"Nerd doesn't know shit."

"Katsuki, it's obvious."

"No, it ain't."

"Really?"

"I'm fine, knock it."

---

Though you hoped that he was just grouchy and sleep-deprived that day, he continued to be off. Obviously not fine, even a week after everything.

He was constantly avoiding your touches, no matter how small he jumped away from them. The light touches you used to place on his arms, even before the watch, were no longer okay.

Fully distant and he made no move to talk about it no matter what.

You tried to make small nudges towards him but he wasn't having it.

It was like you truly were just friends at this point. Even with you stood behind him as he cooked for the two of you, in your home together.

"Are you not going to talk to me?" you asked after the silence got too heavy for you to bear.

"What is there to talk about?"

You rolled your eyes, "You act like I shocked you when I was just grabbing the plate next to you."

"What about it?"

"Bakugo."

He turned to face you, abandoning the vegetables he was chopping. With the opening you stepped closer to him, cornering him into the counter.

"What are you doing?"

Slowly, you reached for his hands that were clenched at his sides.

"Stop," he moved his hands further behind him.

"Kats," you spoke softly, voice broken. Seeing the one you loved since elementary school back away from you hurt. For them to act like your touch was poison? It was a different type of pain that was heart-wrenching.

He was taking every step backward. Even in high school, he let you hug him, but now it was nothing. You didn't want that. Not in the slightest.

"Can you back up?"

You shook your head, looking down to gather yourself a touch more.

"You can't do this Kats."

"Do what?"

Tears brimmed your eyes when you looked up, "You said you were going to try."

"Yeah? Then I fuckin' burned you," his voice was rough, eyes were just as watery as your own.

"I'm fine-"

"You weren't."

"What about after that? You let me touch you then."

"It was a mistake."

You stepped back, thrown for a loop at what he said. "A mistake?

He swallowed nervously, "No- I meant me risking it. That was the mistake. Nothin' else."

"But you didn't even hurt me?"

"You saw the hole I left in the mattress. If I moved my hand for even a second, that would have been you."

You huffed, "Running away from it won't help."

"Don't care, not risking hurting you."

"I care Katsuki," you reached for him again, grabbing his hands even with his reluctance, "You never hurt me before with simple touches."

"I don-"

"Even in middle school, you let me hug you. Before all the training," you tried, "You know your limits."

"I thought I did," he spoke as if he was a failure.

"Because you do, I just pushed them. Look, no watch and no flirty touching?" you asked, begging internally.

He furrowed his brows, looking down at your hands, debating. He was giving in and it lightened the weight you felt on your shoulders, "Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, I just can't deal with none of you. I need your hugs," you laughed lightly, trying to brighten the mood with a tease at him.

"Fine," he sighed.

You hugged him tightly at the opening, thrilled that he agreed. Even if you were pushed off him moments after, his hands being held away from you to keep you safe.

---

Being back at square one was strange. The two of you figuratively danced around each other. Fleeting touches as if you were just friends. The romance was ripped from the relationship regardless of the agreement. You said no flirty touching, but every touch felt flirty.

It had you staring at him in longing.

"What?" he snapped after you stared at him for a solid minute. He was just trying to wash the dishes.

"Can we kiss?" you asked without a thought.

The plate he delicately held blew up into pieces.

"Fuck," he glared at you as he threw away the pieces of glass, "No."

"Come on," you pushed lightly, "You only sparked up when we kissed last because things went further."

He rolled his eyes, "Ain't risking it."

"We don't have to risk anything, you can hold your hands behind your back or something," you suggest, "Can't hurt the air."

"No."

"Can we try once?" you pleaded.

"You agreed no flirty touching."

"It's less flirty and more loving," you tried.

"Bullshit."

"Please, Kats?"

He glared at you for a moment, biting his lip in thought, "Will it make you shut up?"

"Yes."

"C'mere."

You pushed yourself closer to him, lifting yourself off your chair so you could lean far enough across the counter to meet him. You felt stupid when he only gave you a peck.

"Really?" you huffed.

"You said a kiss," he shrugged, washing the dishes with a smirk. Obviously happy that he annoyed you.

Even though he was happy he annoyed you, he seemed more happy about the kiss than you. Any interaction after that ended with a kiss.

Adding it onto his morning goodbyes, even with you sleepily accepting his small touch of love. Leaving a small kiss on your cheek was also another go-to of his.

He merged it into his daily routine and you couldn't be happier that you pushed him to do it. You often felt like you were pushing him too far, breaking through his consent. It made you feel horrible. The only thing that kept you from caving in on yourself was that he voiced many times that he loved touching you in any way possible, his only fear was his quirk.

That was the only reason you kept pushing, he'd tell you to fuck off if he wanted you to.

So you kissed him for longer each time.

When you got too into it, he'd gently pull away, "Can't."

"I know," you replied softly, your pain must have been obvious.

"I would trust me-"

"I know," you smiled at him. You didn't want him to feel bad about something he couldn't control.

He huffed, clicking his tongue in annoyance at himself, "Wish I could use this fuckin' watch. Then I could fuckin' do something."

You eyed his watch, "What exactly did the doctor say?"

"Hah?"

"About your watch?"

"Said I shouldn't have my quirk fully off."

"So you can have your quirk partially off safely?"

"Fuck do I know, why does it matter?"

"Well if your quirk is mainly off, you couldn't hurt me."

He eyed you for a moment, "So I can use it again?"

You looked at his watch-clad wrist in debate, "Once the doctor clears it, yes."

"Fuckin' finally," he smiled, kissing you roughly in excitement, "You have no idea the things Imma do to you," he whispered into your lips.

---

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic (I won't add you otherwise, sorry) comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

@supersecretsamm @maeveorsomethinggg @zoast32 @54fangirl @ellielover69 @aomi04 @mithicakurogo @ez4raa @suki0 @wildernessflora @dumbbitchenergy17 @schniti-is-in-the-house @xbieditz @poemzcheng @jaxyy219 @truwaifu @111june111 @eyesforbkg @mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @keiva1000 @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @albakugo @fairiesgloss @limitedstar @i-bitch-you-bitch @drageonix24 @sinyaaa @oddball08 @imsuperawkward @lomlchi @anime-manga-fanatic @irlpadfoot @chocoyanchan @gollumsmygel @yuptha-tsme @icedemon1314 @alstrums @andysdrafts @your-mum3000

[thef1diary]

congrats on 1k!!! so so happy for you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

for the song request 🎧 could you write a lil fluff piece for lando? song: look after you by the fray <3

Be My Baby | L. Norris

Summary: You and Lando slowly but surely realize that you’re falling in love with each other.

Warnings: none just fluff

pairing: lando x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

Note: I listened to this song three times and wrote this while listening. I honestly don’t know if it relates to the song at all but I’m satisfied with the plot.

Lando was holding all the bags for you while you shopped, and it was getting hard to hold them all in one hand. But he wanted—no, needed to keep his other hand free so he would be able to hold yours as you walked side by side.

Then, you spotted the next store you wanted to walk into, dropping Lando’s hand and while he followed you, his hand felt a tad too empty.

If I don't say this now, I will surely break

Lately, Lando has been looking at you a little too long for it to be considered anything less than a relationship, but every time he looked away, his heart ached, needing to search for a glimpse of you again.

You were picking out a few clothes, holding it up in front of you as you decided whether or not you wanted to buy it. Turning to Lando to ask for his opinion, you let out a laugh, confusing him.

As I'm leaving the one I want to take

You stepped closer, poking his nose before breaking out into a smile, “oh Lan, do you want me to take any bags?”

You reached for them but he pulled away, shaking his head, “no, I’m good. Also, don’t get that dress.” He commented, nodding his head towards the dress you were currently holding.

“No? It wouldn’t look good on me?” You asked as you held it against your body but he still shook his head. “You would look good in anything, but it has buttons on the back instead of a zipper and I know how much you hate those.”

Forgive the urgency, but hurry up and wait

You flipped the dress and as he stated, there were buttons instead of a zipper like you thought. Your mouth parted slightly in surprise, at both the facts that Lando not only noticed the buttons before you did, but also knew that you preferred zippers. You had no idea that Lando remembered the small piece of information.

Without another word uttered, you placed the dress back on the rack and continued shopping. If you had said something, it would’ve been a little more than what is considered friendly.

My heart has started to separate

During the remainder of your shopping spree, Lando tried to keep up with your pace but he fell behind. However he didn’t mind because he could look at you as much as he wanted without getting caught.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, be my baby

The next time Lando called you, it was way too early in the morning for you. But the words he spoke as soon as you picked up worried you, “I think I might accidentally burn my apartment down if you don’t come and help me.”

You noted the time, 8 am, and groaned, “why would you burn your house this early? Can’t it wait?”

I'll look after you

“Are you coming or do you want to see my body burnt to a crisp?” Laughing, you told him that you would be there in ten minutes.

You reached in nine minutes, knocking incessantly in case Lando did actually fuck something up, but then again it wasn’t unusual for him to do so.

As soon as he opened the door, you walked right past him then once you assessed the damage—or well the lack of—you turned around to greet him, “what did you do?”

There now, steady love, so few come and don't go

“Good morning to you too,” he responded with a sheepish smile on his face. “Lando no middle name Norris, you did not ask me to come over for no reason.”

“I do have a reason, but don’t act like you wouldn’t come over for no reason either.” He walked closer to you, and you shrugged, “fair, I would.”

Will you won't you, be the one I always know?

“Come with me,” he stated, walking towards the kitchen and that’s where the mess was made. There were an unusual amount of empty pots and pans scattered everywhere.

You raised your eyebrow in amusement then looked at him. “Don’t laugh, I wanted spring rolls, but I don’t think I can fry them without either burning myself or the apartment.”

You laughed, something you were doing a lot more in his presence. When he looked at you with a stern glare, you slapped your hand over your mouth to contain your giggles.

When I'm losing my control, the city spins around

Once you stopped laughing, you had only one question, “why do you want to fry spring rolls this early?”

He shrugged, “I’m hungry,”

Shaking your head with a smile on your face, you began decluttering the space so you could work efficiently. Setting the frypan to heat up with oil, you looked at Lando again, noticing that he was already looking at you.

You're the only one who knows, you slow it down

“The things I do for you, Lan, no one else will put up with this you know?” He hummed, “what makes you think I want anyone else but you?”

He watched you cook, surprised at your little to no fear while handling hot oil but he chose not to comment in case it distracts you.

On the other hand, Lando was very much distracted by your choice of clothing. He noticed that you were wearing a black hoodie with his name and driver number on the back. He couldn’t look away from it for the remainder of the time your back was facing him. Then, he realized with a stupid smile on his face, that he liked it a lot.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, be my baby

Lando was walking you home and your hand was wrapped around his bicep as if it always belonged there. The restaurant was nearby so there no reason to drive, plus that meant you two were able to order some wine with your meal.

Although it wasn’t a date, it didn’t feel like anything less than one. The only difference was, both of you were in comfortable clothes, nothing too fancy, and it wasn’t openly stated that it was a date. But god, did you wish it was.

And I'll look after you

Lando walked on the outer edge of the sidewalk that was closer to the road. The sun had set a few hours ago, letting the moon illuminate the night sky. The time always passed by so quickly whenever you were with Lando.

His presence was so inviting that you never wanted to leave. When you finally admitted the thought instead of ignoring it, you realized how much you didn’t want Lando to just be your friend. You wanted so much more.

“What are you thinking about?” Lando spoke, interrupting the silence of the night but his voice was like music to your ears. “The wine,” you lied, knowing that the voices of your inner thoughts could not be said out loud. Not yet.

If ever there was a doubt

“That good?” He followed up, making you nod, “could compete with Daniel’s,” you responded, feeling his body move as he chuckled before you heard him.

“Don’t tell him that, he’s already got too big of a head.” Lando commented about his former teammate although there was no ill intent behind his words. You playfully slapped his arm with your free hand, only because you didn’t want to let go of his arm. “And what about you Mr. Norris, wouldn’t you say you’ve got a big ego as well?”

My love she leans into me

“The only reason I’ve got a big ego is because of you, sweetheart, always complimenting me.” Based on his tone, you knew he was just teasing but you couldn’t help but think more of the nickname he gave you. It wasn’t the first time he used it, but it definitely stirred feelings in your stomach the more he said it.

“Then my ego should be through the roof with the way you compliment me,” you noted, remembering all the times he said something that would leave you a blushing mess.

“And everything I said is true,” He remarked, and only because you didn’t want him to see your face which was undoubtedly red, you leaned your head onto his arm. Surely, that was the only reason, you told yourself. You totally didn’t want to just soak up all his personal space and make it yours.

This most assuredly counts

Reaching the doorstep to your home, both of you stopped walking but neither made a move to part away. In fact, while you were walking, Lando’s hand covered yours that was resting on his arm.

“I guess the night ends here,” Lando commented once you found the strength to move away from him. You looked towards the door then back at him, “it doesn’t have to, you can come in.”

Lando closed his eyes and thought for a moment before shaking his head, “I don’t think I should.”

She says most assuredly

Even though you weren’t holding his arm anymore, you stepped closer to see if he would move back, but he didn’t. “Why not?” You asked, even though you had an idea of what his answer could be.

“I don’t think I would be able to leave.” He looked at you with such intensity that if you weren’t slowly becoming accustomed to it, you would’ve melted into a puddle.

“Lando,” you whispered as there wasn’t a need to speak any louder with the little distance between you. His hand rested against your cheek, and he tilted his face an inch closer.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, be my baby

“This could change everything,” he commented, letting you find a reason to back out now. “I know,” you muttered, leaning closer until your lips were barely just brushing together.

“Kiss me,” you spoke against his lips and he didn’t waste a single moment before closing the distance entirely, claiming you as his and him as yours.

I'll look after you

[tropicalcryptid]

Ok so She-Ra pulled such a great hat trick with Hordak's characterization, and I LOVE it

One of my favorite things about 2018 She-Ra is Hordak's story and development (and Entrapdak cough but that's not the point of this particular post), and the cleverest thing is that so much of it is actually being set up and told to us in seasons 1 and 2 before we even realize that that's what's happening.

When we first see Hordak in the show, he's giving "generic evil overlord" vibes. Garden-variety baddie. Maybe a little more reasonable than some and clearly capable of long-term thinking, but that just serves to make him intimidating. Everything about him--the way he runs his empire, his armor, his color scheme, his minion, his Villainous Eye Makeup(TM), even his name--are all projecting to the audience "yup, Acme Bad Guy here. Move right along."

But then, backstory. And everything snaps into focus. Not only is it one of the first big oh SHIT moments of the show, where we suddenly zoom out and realize that there is SO much more going on than we realized--it's also the start of the audience seeing Hordak as a character rather than an archetype. Suddenly we realize that he's not conquering Etheria because he wants power, or hates happiness and sparkles, or whatever--he's doing it out of a desperate attempt to prove his worth to his brother/creator/god. This moment where Hordak lets Entrapta in is also the moment the show lets us in on what makes our favorite spacebat tick.

On top of that, we've also seen him bonding with Entrapta and opening up to this person that he respects and trusts...probably the only person he's ever respected or trusted apart from Prime. And she's Etherian--someone of a lower species, someone he's supposed to subjugate, someone who he has been raised and trained and programmed and mind-controlled into believing is below him in every way.

But instead she's brilliant and creative and mesmerizing. She's not afraid of him, and she's fascinated with his work. For the first time since being abandoned by Prime, Hordak finally has someone that he can talk to, who is on his level and both understands and cares about the science! (because he is a giant nerd). She's kind to him, a mere defect. And it just sends his whole worldview into a spin, and that's all before--

Bam, mans is a goner. Entrapta's "Imperfections are beautiful" comment punches right through all the toxic bs that Hordak has been steeped in his entire life. You can see on his face here--I think it's the moment Hordak fell in love with Entrapta, but this is also the face of a spacebat reevaluating his entire worldview. If Entrapta, who is amazing, believes something different from Prime...what does that mean? If Entrapta, who is brilliant, believes that he is worth something, and that she herself is a failure...

Well. We know what happens after that, and how Hordak begins to doubt, and eventually fights back against Prime (and remembers his love for Entrapta after TWO mind wipes help my heart ack). But we also get to see what life in the Galactic Horde looks like: the only life Hordak ever knew before coming to Etheria.

It's not nice.

It's really not nice.

Prime operates in a very specific way, and we learn a lot about it in season 5. Prime expects complete obedience, devotion and worship from his clones. He allows no individuality from his subjects, not even a name. Failure or deviations are punished, mind-wiped, or destroyed. We even learn from Wrong Hordak that facial expressions are considered a privilege reserved for Prime (apart from, presumably, expressions of rapture caused by being around Prime).

And once we learn all of this, suddenly thinking about season 1 Hordak becomes very interesting indeed. The time we spend with the Galactic Horde and Prime throws absolutely everything that we know about Hordak into a whole new context. Now all those traits that made him a generic villain are actually hugely effective characterization! And what that characterization is telling us is that Hordak had already moved much farther away from Prime than we (or, probably, he) had realized, even long before he met Entrapta.

Horde Prime does not allow his underlings to have names, personalities, or any differences of appearance. Not only does Hordak allow this among his own troops, he chose a name for himself as well! Season 5 tells us that his very name is an act of blasphemy against his god. And yet Hordak took one for himself, and that name is part of the core identity he is able to hold on to when rebelling against Prime.

Horde Prime cast Hordak out when he showed signs of physical imperfections. Hordak not only keeps Imp (who is by all appearances a failed clone or similar experiment) around, he treats Imp more gently than we see him treat anybody or anything before Entrapta. Imp is not simply "generic evil guy's minion," he is proof of Hordak's capacity for compassion, and evidence that Hordak cannot bring himself to cast aside "defects" as easily as Prime. Considering where Hordak came from, Imp's existence is a huge, flashing neon sign telling the audience this guy here is better than the hell that molded him, and we don't even realize it until 4 seasons after it's been shown to us!

Very cool, ND.

There's more, though. Hordak's red and black color scheme? His dark eye makeup and lipstick? Very Evil Overlord chic. But nope! Actually these are actually expressions of individuality on a level that Hordak knows would be abhorrent to Prime!

Reading between the lines, I see this as Hordak desperately trying to reconcile two diametrically opposed beliefs in his head: (1) devotion to Prime, whose approval he desperately craves, and (2) maintaining some degree of unique personhood, of Hordak, from which to draw strength. Because a failed, defective clone cannot survive on a hostile world, cut off from the hivemind and from Prime's light. A failed clone cannot create an empire to offer Prime as tribute, nor build a spacetime portal from scraps and memory to call Prime back. A failed clone cannot create cybernetic armor to keep his hurting, weakened body alive; to force himself to keep going no matter what, to fight through the pain and the doubt by sheer force of will.

But maybe Hordak can.

And so there it is. Hordak had plenty of time to gain and explore his individuality while separated from Prime, but I think the reason he did it so effectively (while still deluding himself that Prime would forgive him for these little sins, if only Hordak could prove his value) is because he had to.

Wrong Hordak gained his individuality surrounded by kind, quirky people who took care of him; Hordak was ripped from the hivemind by Prime himself and had to fight for his survival against all odds. And that produced a dangerous and damaging foe for Etheria. But it also produced the one clone with the strength of will to defy Prime himself.

This is long and rambling, but ultimately my point is that 1) I love Hordak, and 2) I love love love love that the show was so clever about his characterization. We learn so much about him and how much progress he's already made in breaking from his psycho abusive cult upbringing, and we don't even recognize it until the show wants us to. Hordak had come so far, all on his own, before he met Entrapta. She just helped push him over the edge and finally realize (at least consciously) that Prime's worldview might not be the correct one.

Idk, I just don't know if I've ever seen all the trappings of Basic 80's Villain(TM) so successfully subverted, where looking back 4 seasons later is actually a smack in the face with the "effective character building" stick. Amazing.

[miley1442111]

heyy, i love your writing! I was thinking a rafe x fem reader, where Rafe says they don’t have anything, she was just a hook up etc when he was actually just scared of having feelings for a girl for the first time in his life. she gets with JJ to make him jealous and it works, but instead of being that mad Rafe Cameron he just open his heart and his fears to her (even end up crying a bit)

---------------------

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mistakes and misjudgements

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a/n: hi! thank you so much for requesting! I love this idea!

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the request

warnings: kissing, toxic relationship, rafe is confused, cursing, drinking, suggestive mentions, mentions of rafe's addictions (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe walked past the bar, his eyes searching for yours. You, the pogue bartender at the club, had caught the Rafe Cameron’s eye, and he wasn’t about to let you go. 

He was met with Jj. His smile dropped, while Jj’s smirk rose. 

“What can I get you, Cameron? A vodka cranberry? I can mix it with the blood of the people you’ve murdered?-”

Jj stopped talking when Rafe leaned in closer. 

“Just a water, thanks.” 

Jj nodded and walked to the fridge to grab him a bottle, and then you walked up, and he watched as Rafe’s demeanour changed. He was softer, sweeter, and funnier. Jj almost laughed out loud at the way Rafe pushed some hair back from your face, that sickly sweet smile on his face. 

Jj moved you over, his hands on your waist and handed Rafe his water. “Water for the gentleman.”

Rafe’s smile dropped. “Thanks man.”

“Oh, Jj, this is my boyfriend, Rafe,” you smiled, introducing the two.

Bile rose in Rafe's stomach. Were you two dating? But that came with so much more than just the fun dates you two were indulging in. That would mean he’d have to be vulnerable with you. And the fact that you hated his drug use, something he’d been struggling to stop for a while now. And he knew you were too good for him, it was only a matter of time before you figured it out yourself and-

His mouth moved before his brain could stop it. “Woah,” Rafe deflected. “I’m not her boyfriend, we’re just… casual,” he shrugged. 

Your face fell and Rafe had never felt so bad. “Right, casual.”

You hated that word. You hated how he used it. You hated how you thought, even just for a second, that you would settle for that.

Jj’s smile widened. “Well, there’s your water. See you ‘round Kook,” and with that, Jj turned his back on Rafe and turned to you. “You alright?”

You nodded, more annoyed than anything else. “He’s such an asshole.”

“I hate to say ‘I told you so’, but I did warn you-” before he could finish you hit him with a towel, which ended up in a towel fight in the bar, neither of you aware of the searing eyes of Rafe Cameron. 

Maybe he’d fucked up. Maybe he did want to be your boyfriend. 

Maybe. 

Jj was appalled at what Rafe had done. Casual? What was wrong with him? He had the prettiest, kindest, most amazing girl on the island, if not the world, and he was throwing it away, for what? To fuck other people? That didn’t make any sense. So you two made a plan.  

He was going to ask you out. Now, Jj liked you, yes, but as a friend. You liked Jj, yes, but again, as a friend. So you two could ‘go out’ with each other and make Rafe jealous. For the simple reason of principal, you had to make Rafe pay, it was only fair. 

---------------------

When you walked into the party, you immediately found Jj and clung to him for the whole night. Everyone was talking about you two, especially since most people thought you were dating Rafe. 

You two danced, drank, and even made out, and by the end of the night, you knew you’d sent a message Rafe’s way by the amount of texts you’d received.  

Rafe: Wtf are you doing with him?

Rafe: Text me back.

Rafe: Stop being so close to him. Come talk to me 

Rafe: Please Y/n.

Rafe: I got the fucking message now stop it.

Rafe: You have my attention, you always do. Get off of him.

Rafe: Please come talk to me.

Rafe: Y/n stop.

Rafe: Please. 

Rafe: I know I fucked up, come on. This isn’t fair.

Rafe: I made a mistake Y/n, I’m sorry.

Rafe: Fuck this, I’ll be at Tanneyhill when you’re ready to talk to me like an adult. 

Rafe: Please talk to me. Please.

You chuckled as you read through the messages, Sarah by your side. 

“Oh my god! That’s why he was so upset leaving the party!” she laughed. 

Your stomach dropped. Rafe shouldn't have been upset, he didn't care about you, right? You were just another girl he was talking to and planning on fucking, right? “What do you mean?”

“Oh yeah, Kelce was telling me he was super worked up and upset all night so he left. He didn’t even do anything but he was pacing the entire night. Top though he’d had a panic attack.”

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath. “Hey, I think I might call it a night,” you turned to the group. 

“Aww come on! The night’s just started,” Kiara pleaded, you chuckled and shook your head. 

“I’m tired!” you lied. “And I have work tomorrow.”

You needed to talk to Rafe right now. 

---------------------

The walk from the beach to Tanneyhill was quick but full of quiet and anxious scenarios. You didn’t mean to make him upset, you just wanted to show him what he was missing. He embarrassed you earlier, and you wanted to get him back. You never meant to cause harm. 

You knocked on the door, hoping he was ok, and internally hoping it would be him to open the door, considering you were wearing a very short dress that you knew Rose would turn her nose up at. 

The door swung open to reveal… Rafe. 

But he looked… upset? His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose was sniffly, he’d been crying. You’d made him cry. 

“Hi,” he sniffled, and your heart just broke. Your Rafe had been crying over you.  

You cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer. “I’m sorry,” you whispered and he shook his head, trying to hold back more tears. 

“It’s fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and tired. 

“It’s not. I’m so sorry Rafe,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek and that was all it took, the floodgates opened and he wrapped his arms around you, allowing him to be held by you. You sank down to the steps and let him cry into your neck for a few minutes. You softly brushed through his hair with your fingers and whispered hushed apologies and promises of everything being ok. After a few minutes he was coherent enough to speak. He pulled back, wiping his eyes with his hand as you sat beside him, confused and feeling awful. 

“I got so… jealous for a while, seeing you and Jj at work. I have no idea why. A-and then at the party, I saw you two just laughing a-and ha-having fun,” he hiccuped. “And I realised that I-I’m not like that. I’m not f-funny. I don’t make you laugh. I’m not ve-very fun to b-be around.” 

Your heart broke as you saw the little known insecure side of Rafe Cameron. Obviously, Jj and Rafe were different people, but you enjoyed Rafe’s dad jokes, just as much as you enjoyed Jj’s dry sarcasm. You and Jj had known each other practically since birth, so obviously you were more relaxed around him than with Rafe. Especially with Rafe, at the beginning you were so tense on every date, always worried that you were going to say the wrong thing, since this was your first real relationship. 

“I love being around you,” you cooed, cupping his cheek. “I think you’re funny. You make me laugh all the time.”

He nodded. “B-but I’m not like that, I’m… different. I’m not e-easy to be with, with the d-drinking and the baggage, and the drugs. I know that, a-and I promise I’m trying to change, t-to be better f-for you, it’s just h–hard. A-and I’m so scared that I’m going to lose you i-if I do the wrong thing.” 

“You’re not going to lose me,” you promised. “I swear.”

“But you and Jj-?”

“I was… trying to make you jealous,” you admitted, slightly embarrassed. 

“Oh,” he sighed. “That’s g-good. ‘Cause I really like you. And I want you to be my girlfriend.” 

You smiled. “I’m all yours Rafe, and we’ll work through it all together. I’m here for you, always.”

You took his hand in your and smiled. 

His other hand came up to cup your cheek, and he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

You'd get through it all, together.

---------------------

obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[allfearstofallto]

Wow I loved your latest child piece, do you think he would try desperately to make his sons like him? Give them gifts and go fishing together with his oldest son? I mean he can see that the kid is terrified of him but he tries to reassure him but to no avail. I think he would let his anger out on some of his poor Fatui men or on his missions whenever these moments happen to him. That’s so angsty how Childe loves his family but they only see him as the monster they think he is.

Y'all I actually really do like writing for yandere Childe's family!! The angst is so fucking good!!

But since I can't keep up with the nameless kids, the older boy is Adonis and the younger one is Damon

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Reader has children, mentions of previous abuse

“You look so cute all bundled up like that, my sweet,” you praised your older son, even patting his head and squeezing his cheeks the way you knew he liked. Yet nothing you were doing could lift the dark cloud that was over him, the fear in his eyes was paralyzing and he was gripping the hem of your dress so tightly, you thought he'd rip it if he were made to let go.

“P-pl-please don't send me away, mommy,” Little Adonis whimpered through tears and you felt your heart shatter. Orange hair framing his face, you brushed it to the side. You hated just how much they looked like their father, his genes so strong they were like little carbon copies of him. And their cries always tugged at your heart, you hated that he made you feel empathy for his face

With your other son still on your hip, you tried to comfort both boys. Finding it difficult to soothe with your hands full. Adonis had gone from whimpering and labored breaths to full blown sobbing at this point, wiping the tears from his chubby cheeks with the backs of his mittens. You tried to stop him from crying, tried to get him to calm down. When the older one cried, so did the younger, and soon Damon was also in your arms shedding tears.

“Your father just wants to take you out for a bit,” your voice was shaky as you tried to reassure him, “You won't even be far. The pond is only a short walk away.” Your words fell on deaf ears as they continued to cry, both of them getting your dress wet with their fat tears.

“What's all the commotion?” The voice that asked this question somehow managed to make both of your children suck their tears up quickly and fall into an almost scary silence. They peaked up at you, waiting for your response to Ajax, who was giving you his usual charming smile.

“I- I just don't think Adonis is very fond of the snow,” you spoke quickly while patting the boy's head, even cupping his cheeks to try and wipe away some of the wetness from his face.

If Childe noticed how tense the entire family has become at his presence he didn't speak on it. Instead he took a knee right in front of his son, also reaching up to pat the boy's head, but he flinched away from his father's touch. You squeezed his shoulder a bit too tightly to hold him in place, making him look up at you in a way that broke your heart. He felt as if you were betraying him, but you knew better, what Childe could do to him was much much worse.

“That's nonsense. He's from Snezhnaya, he should love the snow,” he finally got to pet Adonis’ head. His large hand that was covered in scars and callous practically getting lost in the orange locks.

“Maybe he takes more after me,” you took Childe's hand, trying to put his attention more on you instead, “It doesn't even get cold in Liyue. You remember how much I hated it here when I first arrived, don't you?”

His eyes went dark for a moment as he squeezed your hand a little too tightly, “You hated it here for a lot of reasons.”

“But the cold was the worst part,”

“Adonis will be fine,” he spoke while placing a kiss upon your lips, then one on Damon's forehead, “My father took me ice fishing when I was practically an infant.”

“I-i suppose,” words muttered with your head down.

The two of them slipped on their boots together, with Childe even helping his son tie his. You felt on edge watching the both of them leave out the door. It was the first time that you'd ever left Childe alone with him, and the instinct inside of you that was telling you to protect them was on high alert. There was nothing you feared more than your husband.

But nothing could be done. Childe kissed you again on the lips and you pressed your forehead to your sons, quietly whispering words of assurance to him and most of all Please be good.

[jarofstyles]

Teenage Dirtbag 5

Here we go again! I decided to bring back Fratrry in the rotation. For those of you who didn’t read them yet (or forgot) check out the series masterlist. These updates are shorter so I can get them out somewhat frequently instead of making you wait hehe.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings

Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist

WC- 1.5k

Warnings- asshole H, angst, Y/N putting him in his place as usual

----

Harry knew he should be a bit more cautious when it came to Y/N but… god, how could he not try and push the envelope if it meant her maybe giving into it again? 

The reality of it was that Y/N, a girl who hated his guys most likely, had been the best fuck he’d ever had. She had blown his mind in the literal and metaphorical sense, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fate had a funny way of working, sure, but he couldn’t be too mad considering he knew their chemistry was too good to push away completely. 

H: what do ya want from the cafe, baby doll? 

Y/N: nothing that you’ve touched. 

Harry smirked at his phone. So predictable, already back with the snarky responses. It worked him up a bit, thinking about how this snarky girl had pleaded for more, kissed him sloppily as his balls smacked against her ass and dragged her nails down his scalp. Such a sweet thing for him that night had gone right to being sour as soon as she left. 

H: ok, so you want me to lick your cake pop. Got it. 

H: it isn’t like we haven’t shared saliva before ;) 

Y/N: yeah, lick on it and then choke . Let me know how that goes so I can cancel our session this afternoon. 

The hope was to bring the sessions here one day. As much as Y/N had disdain towards him, the sparks had flown during sex. She had loved it just as much as he did- he’ll, during their last round she had pushed him on the bed and rode his cock until he was sensitive, her nail marks left on his chest for days. 

H: I’ve got something else you can choke on, baby

Y/N: I will quite literally not show up today, your grades be damned. 

His lips puffed in a pout. He was pushing it, but it was so fun to rile her up. Eventually, he hoped she would give in and like him. See the fun parts of him like other people did- but for now, he would play this game. Cat and mouse… though he wasn’t quite sure which one he was. 

H: fineeee. I’ll be good. 

For now. 

Y/N: please do. It was a mistake and we don’t need to keep bringing it up. 

It was a mistake he very much wanted to repeat, over and over again. 

H: yes, maam. I’ll see you at 2 🫡

Y/N: don’t be late, I’m serious. I have something afterwards and I can’t be late 

H: oooo, a hot date? 

Y/N: yes, actually. So don’t fuck this up or you aren’t getting your full hour. 

His smirk quickly fell. 

She was going on a date? With fucking who? 

That wasn’t in his plans. For some reason, guiltily, he hadn’t anticipated the idea of someone else making a move on the girl he wanted to fuck. Let alone her accepting. She seemed like such an ice queen with him that it led him to forget just how sweet she was to literally everyone else.

It was slightly infuriating, how everyone had nothing but good things to say about her. She was nice and she helped out this person when they moved, she helped plan this persons birthday party, she spotted this person 5 when they went to get coffee… there was no denying everyone else got the sweet parts while all the sourness was reserved for him. 

And yet, he still pushed her. Still played this game and taunted her because how the fuck else was he supposed to get her attention? He was going to have to kick it up a notch.  

——

“Who’s the date with?” He asked in the middle of their session, ignoring the paper in front of him as he looked at her. She was way more dressed up than he’d seen her at a tutoring meet before, a little skirt that brushed her thighs and a little button up tucked into it giving it a sweet but sexy combination that made him a little twitchy. 

In all honesty it had been hard to focus since he seen her today. All he could think about was how those pretty lips had been bitten and swollen from his kisses, how they’d curled around his name so fucking sweetly that it had his cock stirring at the memory. Her perfume was seemingly freshly applied and it was interfering with his brain chemistry or something, because all he wanted to do was throw the books to the side and pull her up to straddle his lap. 

He imagined her hands knocking off his SnapBack, tangling in his hair as she rode his cock right in the secluded part of the library. His hands under her skirt and gripping her plush ass yet again, unbuttoning that little shirt and leaving more marks on her skin. 

Marks he caught a glimpse of as she suddenly looked up at him. 

“His name is Derek.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me out on Monday so I decided to say yes. He’s really nice.” For some reason she looked embarrassed by the information she had divulged, like she hadn’t meant to say all of that. 

That sneaky little minx. 

“Uh huh…” he let his eyes linger on the bruising that was fading but not quite covered by the collar of her shirt. “And what is Derek going to think of this pretty little thing?” 

It was gentle, his knuckle lightly brushing over the mark he remembered sucking during the first round. He knew he had caused some nice little lovebites but that one was still healing, so it was probably a dark one. Fuck, it probably looked hot as fuck when it was first developing. “Suits you, y’know. My marks on your skin. I could put some more there, If you want.” 

He was pushing it and he knew it, getting closer to her as his nose brushed her cheek. She wasn’t pushing him away, so he counted that as a good sign. “I could take you back to my place and I could give you quite a few more. A refresher course because… I highly doubt this guy is gonna be able to make you squirt all over his dick. Which you did with me, twice.” He hummed, letting his fingers fall a bit deeper down the collar of her shirt. “I don’t think he’s going to give you what you need, princess. We already did it once and so we’ll… it would just make sense to do it again. I think we have gotten well enough acquainted that I could do the job.”

He hadn’t seen the cold drink coming. Poured all over his lap and seeping through his shorts, he yelped as the icy liquid  hit his skin. “Oi! What the fuck?” 

“I told you, last time was a one and done for this particular reason, Styles.” She snarled, grabbing her books and hurrying to shove them into her bag. “Because you’d be a fucking pig and see me as a sex object instead of a human being. I’m not some fucking challenge, I’m a girl with feelings and I- I told you, I wasn’t doing it again and it meant it!” 

“Babe- no, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I’d never say that shit.” He tried to fight, unsure how it had gone south so fast. Apparently, he was shit at reading her cues. Worse than he originally thought. 

“You don’t have to say it. You suggest it. You don’t respect what I say. This is why I was never going to go and do anything with you. Who gives a fuck how hot you are if you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t get his head out of his own ass to see exactly why people don’t like you.” Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll find you another tutor. I can deal with your stupid flirting, but throwing what we did in my face? Absolutely the fuck not.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to defend himself, feeling incredibly confused as she ran off. Any call of her name went ignored, the librarian hushing him as he made his way out of the doors but it was too late. She was god knows where. 

Who knew those legs could run so fast?

He was a little pissed that she was assuming he thought of her as some sort of object. He didn’t mean to make her feel any sort of way about it all, not thinking he was throwing it in her face, but apparently she thought so. 

H: Y/N can you please come back???

H: I didn’t mean to upset you 

H: I know I can be a dick and that’s part of our thing but I never thought of you as a sex object and I never would 

H: I didn’t think I was throwing it in your face 

H: can you answer me please????

H: I don’t want a new tutor, I want you :( 

H: y/n, cmon 

H: alright, I’ll try again tomorrow. But we need to talk. Please.

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 34- You ight ☕️

You heard the sound of footsteps on the sand coming from behind you. Turning around, you saw a figure wearing a black cap and sun glasses.

Taking off the glasses, you realized it was Scaramouche. You hadn’t seen him since that night at your studio.

He still had his piercing eyes that you loved so much and his deep indigo hair that fell perfectly into his symmetrical face. He kept on looking better and better every time you saw him.

“So are you going to stand there or what?” Scaramouche’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

You cleared your throat before replying, “Um yeah, let’s find somewhere to talk first. I know a spot.”

You began walking to the giant rocks that the ocean’s waves were hitting. It was far enough where people wouldn’t see the two of you. As you were walking, you weren’t saying anything to each other, making the tension in the air awkward.

He helped you climb onto a rock where the two of you are now sitting on.

Neither of you spoke up yet and there was still an awkwardness in the air. You didn’t know what to say and it seemed like neither did he. You both were just staring at the ocean.

You mustered up the courage to finally speak, “I’m really sorry for all the times I have gotten mad at you for tiny things and for always blocking you without telling you the reason why. I’ve never been good with expressing my emotions which always led to miscommunication. I know it’s definitely not the most healthy way to cope with things.” Your voice trailed off when you realized you started rambling.

However, there was still silence coming from his end so you decided to continue, “I guess I’ve always been a people pleaser and in turn I felt like I couldn’t express how I felt to the other person. I was afraid they might dislike me if I ever said no or set a type of boundary. That’s the reason why I would get mad and not tell you why. I liked you so much that I could never tell you. I thought that you would never want to date me even if the circumstances were different. I pretended to be fine with whatever situationship we had going on. I would act in ways to make you jealous just so I can see if you actually cared about me. It’s such a stupid thing to do and I know I should’ve done something about it sooner.”

Scaramouche continued staring at the ocean. He still didn’t say anything which started to cause you to worry.

Did he hate you? Was he mad? Does he think you’re dumb?

You started to regret to opening up your mouth too much and began overthinking.

He locked eyes with yours before finally responding, “I have always liked you Y/n. From the moment we started talking, not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought of you. I was in agony that I couldn’t be with you, I tried to forget about you. I tried forcing myself to hate you because I didn’t want to burden you. I always knew how much you cared for me but I tried burying my feelings for you aside.”

His confession took you by surprise. You hadn’t realized that all this time, this was the one thing eating him up inside.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he already beat you to it, “If I don’t say this last thing now, I’m not sure if I will be able to again. As I said before, I always liked you and I always will. When I first recognized this, I backed out and gave mixed signals. I told you this before but my mother abandoned me when I was young. To this day I have no idea why but I guess I’ll never get an answer. I put all my emotions towards her so when she left I closed it all off. I was worried that if I put my emotions towards someone again, they'll end up leaving me too. I tried pushing you away because I was scared of having someone care.”

You were left speechless. You weren’t sure on what to say and ended up pulling Scaramouche into a tight embrace instead. His head was in the crook of your neck as he hugged you back.

“I’m sorry for getting more people involved than there should’ve been. I’ll never leave you for anything. I’ll always stay by your side no matter what. I wish I hadn’t acted stupid,” You finally replied to him.

He broke apart from the hug and placed a hand on the side of your face, “Don’t feel sorry, I was the one who caused you to act the way you did. I promise I’ll be more reliable to you. I promise I won’t cause you to be in anymore pain.”

You had a full view of his high cheekbones and strong jawline. His full lips were curved into a sheepish smile. You would give up anything to have him continue to smile at you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into his lips. They felt the same but this kiss was different from the last. It was slower but more relaxed and romantic. He snaked his hand on the curve of your back for additional leverage. You were praying to not get spotted this time.

This kiss was more addictive than a drug. Every time you wanted to stop, he would pull your face in to continue. You melted into one another perfectly, as if you were meant for each other. You weren’t bullshitting when you said that you’ll never leave and neither was he. Scaramouche was the forest and you were the fire that always set him ablaze.

The two of you finally broke apart and smiled at one another. You felt relieved that you were able to get this weight off your chest, you didn’t regret it one bit.

“Yeah you cool, you aight type shit,” You chuckled breaking the silence.

Scaramouche flicked your forehead while rolling his eyes, “Nothing is stopping me from pushing you into the ocean you know.”

“If you do I’ll drag you down with me,” You responded as you rested your head against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you. The both of you watched the sunset and the waves crashing onto the rocks down below.

Everything had now fallen into place.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: I was lowkey smiling when i was writing this 😭😭 The most romantic thing i haver ever experienced was making out in the rain but the guy ended up ghosting me the following week 😓

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex @sp1ng @bananasquash @aceakariii @thegalaxyisunfolding @sartrst @cheriswag @kokomiskiss @albedomestic-airline @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @wvvyq @amurotoorudesu @ennsposts @illu-fu @vitanye

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!

*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)

STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN

Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿

A/n: Thought I’d actually title this bc reading it again months later I just think it needs one 🥸

gif creds @daryl-dixon-daydreams

BUSY BEE

Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.

He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.

It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.

His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.

No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.

You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.

God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.

He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.

Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.

He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.

While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.

You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.

Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.

Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.

He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.

He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.

It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.

Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.

His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.

You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. ��God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.

He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.

Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.

Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.

Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.

From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.

He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing

also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)

[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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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

Time Travel

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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/?

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

[oneforthemunny]

Could we possibly get a spanking blurb I don’t care which Eddie I just need him to beat my ass😩

sure why not lol. for freaky friday. this was longer than i meant it to be lol.

thinking of going with the classic, dom!eddie. smut ahead. minors dni.

"Grab some plates." You nod towards the cabinet, steam lifting from the pot of pasta boiling on the stove beneath you.

"Plates?" Eddie hummed, tone lilting in a playful way, hand sliding over your hip when he passed you. "Plates for mac and cheese?"

"Yes," You huffed, fighting back an eye roll. You knew he was watching you, itching for you to slip, give him a reason to punish you.

You were so close to winning. Tomorrow, you'd wake up victorious in your little bet with Eddie. A silly bet that started playful until both your competitive natures turned it to something more.

"You couldn't act right if your life depended on it." Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes at you. "I think it would actually kill you to be sweet for a few days. Not be bratty for once in your life. No way you could do it."

"Please," You huffed back. "I could do it, but you piss me off. Get me to that point."

"That right?" Eddie hummed, tongue rolling down his cheek.

"You know it is." You lifted your brows. "You can't help it. You love it too much. Just push me to my limit where I snap."

"Care to make a little wager?" Eddie's eyes dazzled, bright with excitement that left your tummy flipping. "Four days. I won't provoke you, you don't brat to me. You make it the full four days, you win. If you don't, I win."

"What do I win?" You chirped smugly. "Because I will win."

Eddie bit back a grin. It was going to be too easy. You couldn't help it. "Loser has to do whatever the winner says for a whole day." Eddie shrugged.

"Anything?" You lifted a brow.

"Anything." Eddie nodded.

"Non-sexual too?" Your eyes narrowed towards him.

"Sure. Why not." Eddie shrugged casually, sticking out a ringed hand towards you. "We have a deal?" Your hand in his, the two of you shook on it. A done deal.

Eddie expected you to break by day two. He knew you'd be on your A-Game for the first day, wearing thin on the second. Eddie's eyes would widen with excitement every time your breath would hitch, a snarky comment threatening to roll right off the tip of your tongue, only for a sweet remark to come out instead.

Now, as day four was drawing closer to the end, Eddie had accepted you as the winner. Not that he minded. This was the one bet he could lose and still end feeling like a winner.

"Could just eat it out of the pot." Eddie shrugged, swiping the two plates down from the top shelf. "Less dishes to wash."

"No." You tried to keep your tone light through gritted teeth.

"Just sayin'," Eddie shrugged, pulling the colander out from under the sink, placing it in the sink for you. "I used to do it all the time. We can get two spoons, share it." He grinned at you.

"You don't wanna share a pot with me, hm? Just like we do with popcorn at the movies, but better because it's mac and cheese, and-"

"-That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard." You huffed, throwing your hands up. "That's so messy and disgusting, and you'll end up hogging the whole thing just like you do with the popcorn. We can eat it off plates like normal people do."

The kitchen fell silent, the hiss of the vent the only sound filling the space between you. Your chest settled, days of building agitation replaced with sudden dread. Eddie's eyes wide, gawking at you in disbelief, slowly spreading into a smile.

"You-" Eddie pointed at you. "Holy shit, you lost." He barked out a laugh.

"I did not." You hissed. "You-You pushed me to it!"

"Nuh-uh, don't even try that with me, baby." Eddie shook his head. "You and I both know I was not trying then. That was all you."

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, lip jutting in a furious pout. He was right, and you knew it. You hated it, but you knew it. Eddie had won.

"Fine," You huffed, flicking the stove eye off, moving the pan to the other eye to cool. "You win. Guess we'll be eating out of the pan tonight then?" Your lips curled in a bitter snarl.

Eddie fought back a smirk, lips pressing together smugly. "No, wanna save it for tomorrow. Really get a whole day out of it." He hummed, pulling the drawer above the sink open.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the pot holder, wrapping it around the hot metal handle to strain the noodles. "Just leave that there." Eddie nodded towards you. "Don't want it to get cold."

"What?" Your brows pinched together in a furrow.

"My victory day doesn't start until tomorrow, but," Eddie pulled the wooden spoon out of the drawer, satisfied with how your eyes widened, your face falling at the sight. "Gotta fix that attitude real quick."

"Eddie," You whined, squirming under his darkened glare.

"Don't even try it, sweetheart." Eddie shook his head at you, taking in a step to close in the space. "You know better than that."

Your cheeks blistered with embarrassed heat, sulking towards the kitchen table, bending over the wood. You pressed your thighs together, a desperate attempt to dull the throbbing between your legs that only intensified as Eddie got closer.

His hand shoving down your little cotton shorts onto the floor, anchoring his free palm onto your spine, before the first hit fell. Your lungs squeezed out a startled gasp of a breath, raising on your toes at the impact. It burned, settled into an achy sting that had you whimpering- still you had to swallow the moan that threatened to follow, lifting your hips back into place, eager for another.

Eddie didn't remark, though he didn't miss the tiny whine that feel from your lips. Instead, he let the spoon rain down in sharp, quick successions all over your cheeks. A steady rhythm of wood snapping against your skin, the table creaking with every squirm.

You knew you'd welt, have round shaped marks that you'd frown at in the mirror tomorrow, running your hand over them and try to ignore the throbbing that'd begin all over again.

For now, Eddie's hands sunk into your hips, a hard hold on them as he used you, rocked your body back and forth, up and down his length. Drilling you over the table, hip bones snapping into the hot skin of your ass as you clawed into the wood of the table.