𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬
(These are not my works; full credit goes to the original writers. If you'd like your work removed, just shoot me a message and I'll remove it for you!)
✪ ~ BIPOC reader or writer (if this is wrong or you’d like it added, let me know!)
Fanfics Rec List
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Kinktober 2021 Masterlist — @the-iceni-bitch
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Andy Barber Masterlist — @angrythingstarlight ✪
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Winter Wonderland — @syntheticavenger ✪
Andy Barber Masterlist — @navybrat817
On The Naughty List — @the-iceni-bitch
Ari Levinson
Midnight Warmth — @sparkledfirecracker
Deeds For The Big Screen — @sparkledfirecracker
From Both Ends — @sparkledfirecracker
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Tis The Season ft. Ransom Drysdale — @jamalflanagan ✪
Robert “Mr. Freezy” Pronge
Bobby and Kitten: Poison Paradise AU — @the-iceni-bitch
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Kinktober Day Three — @ragnarachel
Kinktober Day Ten — @ragnarachel
Kinktober Day Nineteen — @ragnarachel
James Conrad
Kinktober Day Eleven — @ragnarachel
Kyle Orfman
Damsel — @imagining-in-the-margins
Bumblebee
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Zuko
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Hak
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Daddy’s Best Friends ft. Gojo Satoru — @sukunababy
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Lip Gallagher
Sad/Happy/Angry HC — @jillys-feral-fandoms
Single Dad!Lip x Single Mom!Reader — @jillys-feral-fandoms
NSFW Scenario Sunday — @jillys-feral-fandoms
Diego Hargreeves
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Matt Casey
Construction Woker!Matt (Scenario Sunday) — @jillys-feral-fandoms
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Nick Amaro
The Babysitter Masterlist — @libraryofloveletters
Love You to The Moon and to Saturn Masterlist — @hurricanejjareau
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Helping Hand 6
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
You're permitted to leave the dungeon of your policy review for your designated half-hour break. You go to the lunch room and sit down with your meagre tray of crackers and cheese. You pick away at it, your appetite spoiled by the rotten start to your day and the pain tearing at your muscles. You really just want to go home but you know you can't. You need the money.
Your phone shakes on the table, a loud rattle that makes you flinch. You sigh and grab it, standing up to take the call. The longer you avoid Andy, the worse it's going to get. You leave your food on the table and jar your shoulder as you pull open the door. You put the phone to your ear as you storm onto the sales floor.
"Andy, I'm at work."
"Tough shit. How hard is it for you to give me an answer? It's as simple as a text--"
"You ever think I don't want to see your mother or you? Andy," you huff and hold your breath, lowering your voice as you hurry past customers. You get outside just as you're about to burst, "you left me. You served me papers. Why are you still bugging me?"
"I asked you for a goddamn favour. And just like usual, you can't do a simple task--"
"Andy--"
"Listen to me," he hollers over you, "she's sick. Okay? She's sick and she wants to see you."
You stop on the curb, teetering on the edge. You push your neck back and groan. God, you're shoulder hurts.
"How sick?" You ask.
"Sick," he answers somberly, "please, it's one afternoon."
You exhale, "what about... her?"
Another silence as he sniffs, "that's over."
You want to scoff. You want to scream in his ear. All that for a fling that didn't even last a whole year. You hold back your venom, it doesn't change anything. You're still divorced and you still hate him.
"Too bad," you mutter, "fine, I'll come."
"Thanks," he says, "for what it's worth."
"For her, not you," you growl.
"I can drive you--"
"No, I'll figure that out myself," you turn back to the storefront, "the less time we need to be together, the better."
He clucks, "I wasn't that bad."
"Apparently I was," you shrug and let out a pathetic yipe, "god fuck!" You pull the phone away from your ear as you try to stifle your exclamation. You put it back to your cheek and cross the pavement to the door, "gotta go. Bye."
"Sunday--"
"Got it."
You hang up and shove your phone in your pocket. You whine and clutch your shoulder. Your eyes blur with tears. So much for a relaxing lunch.
You reenter the store, head down as you ignore the customers trying to get your attention. You punch the keycode into the lunchroom door and grab your uneaten snack, packing it away before returning to the backroom. As you enter, you find the office occupied.
"Ah, there you are," Jonathan greets as he turns to you, "how was your break?"
"Short," you answer and go around to sit in the chair, cradling your elbow to keep pressure off the joint of your shoulder, "thanks."
"I saw you rush out. Everything okay?"
"Yep," you roll forward and flip a page, "everything is roses."
"And how is your shoulder?" He asks.
"Good," you lie.
He stares at you. A deadlock between you. You bow your head and resume your mindless browsing of redundant rules. He comes close to the other side of the desk and rests his fingertips on the top.
"I am worried, I am not treating you maliciously," he says evenly.
"I know. I told you not to worry."
"Someone should be cautious if you won't," he insists, "I am not like that man I fended off last night–"
"He's not your problem to worry about."
"Yet, I do," he intones, "you shouldn’t let him shade your impression of the world. He is one person–"
"I don't want to talk about my ex-husband," your voice scrapes with frustration, "please," you lift your head, "I'm just trying to get through the day."
He considers you, dragging his hand away from the desk to cross his arms. His forehead ripples and his cheek twitches. He takes a breath and his chest rises and falls.
"Very well, let's keep this professional. Go home."
"What?" You sputter.
"Yes, you've had time to review the policy. Should an employee have issues performing their duties, and/or pose a risk to themselves or others, they may be dismissed," he declares, "I believe if you sit here any longer and stress your injury, you will cause irreparable damage."
"It's fine–"
"I am your boss and I am telling you to leave the premises."
You lean back, chewing on a yelp. You blink as you glare at him. You can't believe he is doing this.
"Now, since you are officially relieved of your duties, as your friend, I insist you see a doctor–"
"You can't do this–"
"I am," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Of course, you may choose to catch the bus and see how you fare with a night of discomfort and no relief or you will accept my offer and seek help. I had my physician pencil you in for an hour from now–"
"Why would you do that?" You sneer.
"Because, you are stubborn–"
"I am not your responsibility."
"Perhaps not in your mind," he smirks, "so, shall I retrieve your things from your locker or would you prefer me wait for you here?"
"I'm not going with you," you stand and close the binder, slamming your hand on the cover.
"Very well, until you seek proper care, you will not be permitted to return to work. I cannot risk the liability–"
"You are…" you begin, breathless with exasperation, "why are you doing this?"
"Doing what? Looking after you?"
"Yes," you murmur, "why would you bother?"
"Someone must," he drops his arms, "please, be mad at me all you like, it is better than hurting yourself."
You shake your head and huff, avoiding him as you round the desk, "I'll get my bag."
"I'll be here, darling," he hums smugly, "patiently."
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