#also yeah i didn't finish that last part bc i think it's implied that i will kms | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

robinsno1lesbian · 11 months

Note

Also also older neighbor Robin thot,

Reader & her talk about *sensitive* topics bc she gives great advice and reader comes to her about never *playing* with herself or ever finishing with anyone so older!neighbor!Robin gives reader a hands on lesson

(Take it as mutual mash orrrrr just Robin having some fun hehe)

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 - 𝐑.𝐁.

older!neighbor!robin x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2693 (ceebs this was supposed to be a short little drabble, look what you made me do??)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ mature content (MDNI), implied age gap (reader is 18+!), masturbation, finger sucking, vaginal fingering, reader is shy at first but robin can work with that, not beta read (i feel like i should stop mentioning that but english isn't my first language so i feel the urge to explain myself lmao).

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i am just projecting at this point but i'm here for it tbh- also this fic fits perfectly into the neighbor!robin universe so?

robin always gave great advice, from the first day on.

whether she was helping you with your styling choices or with where to look for your missing diary, she always seemed to get it right.

maybe that is why you chose to ask her, out of all people.

it not like there were many people to aks anyway. you obviously couldn't talk to your parents and none of your friends would get it.

so, here you are, sitting with your very handsome neighbor, the words you have just said still lingering.

you regret it immediately and the way she is raising her brows speaks volumes.

you must have made this weird. or uncomfortable. probably both.

either way, you have definitely ruined it.

"i mean uhm- shit- i" you bite the inner side of your cheek to cut yourself off. there is no point in denying it now. "i'm sorry i didn't mean to-"

"no" she interrupts and takes your hands in hers. your breath hitches in your throat. the way her long, delicate fingers wrap around your wrists does things to you. things you have never felt before.

there is a spark of something new in her eyes now. something curious maybe...? the fact that you have chosen her bedroom as a place to have this conversation is most definitely not helping.

her scent is all around you and the feeling of the soft cotton beneath your bare leg makes you want her to press your damp skin up against it and kiss all doubts off of you.

you put your hands down to your thigh and rub your palm up and down over the skin. a nervous habit that would normally help. it's not helping right now though.

she drags her finger along her own jaw in thought, her gaze still lingering upon you.

"go on" she breathes eventually.

"it's just that- god-" you inhale deeply before the words start spilling out. "i guess i never...got what it was all about, you know? this big, great feeling everyone talked out-"

"you mean like cumming?" she asks. she says it with such ease.

"y-yeah that- i mean- cumming. right. yeah. everyone is just- i don't know- it's like some big inside joke that everyone seems to know about and i am the only one who doesn't get it"

robin nods along your words.

"and it's not like i am that experienced but- maybe i'm broken?" your voice cracks at the last part.

"broken?" the woman repeats softly. "you're most definitely not broken y/n. why would you think that?"

"it just- it has never worked with anyone else you know what i mean?

when i'm alone it's...one thing. but when someone else is touching me it's just- god" you groan in frustration.

"it doesn't seem to work then”

you know you're probably all red in the face right now. but robin is so considerate, so sweet about this. you just can't seem to help yourself.

and maybe you don't want to help yourself. maybe you want her to help. maybe you want-

"i can show you" she finally says.

you nearly choke on your own spit. your eyes widen and your jaw drops.

"w-what?"

"i can show you" robin repeats. "i don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything but like...i can show you- how to touch yourself, i mean. i can-"

"please" you whisper under your breath. it's so quiet you're afraid she won't hear, because you're not sure you'll be able to repeat yourself. but of course she does.

robin puts a hand around you and lays you down slowly, so slowly that you could stop her a thousand times if you wanted to.

she lingers above you for a second, searching your eyes for any doubts but finding none.

you finally move and bring a hand up to her cheek.

her skin is so soft beneath your fingers. so soft.

"can i kiss you?" robin asks.

you nod your head and lean up to meet her halfway. nothing compares to the feeling of her lips on yours. nothing will ever compare again.

the kiss is soft at first, but you quickly grow hungry for more and part your lips. luckily she gets the hint and slides her tongue into your mouth slowly.

you gasp at the new feeling but gladly let it happen, even suck her tongue further into your mouth.

"has anyone ever made you cum?" she whispers. the rasp in her voice seems to be even more prominent when she's saying such words.

you nearly choke on your breath again and choose to shake your head before you can start to second guess your answer.

"okay" she nods. "that's okay. don't worry, we'll get you there baby, alright?"

"please robin" you don't mean to sound so desperate but you also can not decline such an offer.

"have you ever gotten yourself off?"

your eyes meet hers and you bite your lip, your mind wandering to the countless times you've run your hands down your body, imagining they were hers. you nod.

"show me" robin rasps.

"show you?" you repeat.

"yeah...show me how you would normally do it, what you like and dislike..." she stares down at you for a second before she adds. "can you be a good girl and do that for me?"

your lips part but only a strangled moan comes out. you have imagined how these words might sound from her. but actually hearing them?

you nod your head and lean back against the pillows behind you, so that you're sitting up in front of her.

she leans back and gestures for you to continue.

you keep looking at her and try not to get too self conscious while you slowly pull your panties down your legs from below your summer dress.

you can see robin visibly gulp when you throw them down the side of the bed.

you bend you legs at the knees and then spread them slowly, slightly teasing her.

"god fuck" she mumbles, proving that it's working.

you pull up your dress and your face flushes red when you expose your bare cunt to her.

she just puts a hand to your thigh to keep you open for her gaze.

you don't even know how you find the strenght to do it but you run a hand down your body and slowly begin tracing over your outer lips, fingers froming a v-shape as you spread yourself open for her to see.

"fuck-" you breathe out shakily. "fuck robin"

she squeezes your thigh gently. "i'm right here. now show me. show me how you would normally do it"

robin's gaze follows your fingers as you start stroking your clit on either side.

you immediately fight back the urge to close your thighs and choose to focus on robin instead.

robin who is sitting right there, watching you with a mesmerized, hungry expression.

"does that feel good?" she asks with watchful eyes on your dripping entrance. only the fact that she is watching you like this makes you wetter than you would get under any circumstances.

"yeah" you nod your head. "so good robin"

"is that all you do?"

"no" you bite your lip again and watch her as she tilts her head suggestively.

alright, here goes nothing.

your lashes flutter and your lips part when you dip two of your fingers down to your entrance.

you're taking aback at the feeling of your arousal. god, you really are wet.

you moan softly when you push them inside but it delights you to see that robin's expression is a reflection of your own: her lips agape and her eyelids heavy.

"god please let me touch you y/n" she whispers after a couple of thrusts under her watchful eye.

there is nothing you would want more. you lean back on the mattress and scoot further down, so that robin is towering above you.

you remove your hand from your center slowly. it's almost painful to stop now, but you know it'll only get better.

robin runs her hand up your thighs slowly and smiles when you shiver in response.

"so pretty" she whispers in amazement. "so pretty"

she runs it further and further up, over your chest, until her fingers reach your lower lip.

your eyes widen when she pulls it down slowly.

you wrap your lips around her index and middle finger and suck them past your lips eagerly.

it's an easy thing for you to take them in until the second knuckle and she just watches you in a haze as you suck on them, wettening them further.

you let them fall from your mouth once you feel like they have gotten wet enough, mostly because you can't wait much longer though. you need robin. now.

the woman brings her fingers down to your clit but stops for you to give her the final permission. you nod and her fingers find your clit.

"oh fuck" you breathe and your eyes close.

she copies the movements you have shown her, applying exactly the right amount of pressure.

"right there robin, right there" you squirm. the sensation of someone else touching you like this is so new.

and it feels so fucking good.

so good, in fact, that you start canting your hips up to meet her fingers, an attempt to pick up the pace. but robin hushes you.

"let me do the work pretty girl" she says. "just lay back and relax"

"but-" you want to protest but the words die on your tongue at one particular flick of her fingers "fuck".

"oh, you like that yeah?" she asks and raises her brows as she repeats the movement.

"fuck yeah-" you moan softly. robin now has one finger on either side of your clit, rubbing gently and in all the right ways.

you bite down on your index as you watch her and how she is looking at you while she is giving you such an insane amount of pleasure.

probably more than anyone else -including yourself- has ever given you.

"you want more, pretty girl?" she hums and her fingers toy around your entrance. all of your muscles seem to tense up at the exact same time and a breathy moan falls from your lips.

"please"

robin smiles and uses the wetness that is pooling between your thighs to cover her fingers in them. you're sure the extra makeshift lube isn't necessary but you're thankful that she is being considerate nonetheless.

your fingers wrap around her wrist in a tight grip when she pushes to fingers into your throbbing cunt.

her lips part and her eyes blink under heavy lids multiple times, almost as if she was inserting those fingers into herself rather than you.

your mouth is forming a silent 'o' as you apologetically loosen your grip. but robin doesn't mind.

"holy shit" she curses under her breath. "holy shit fuck y/n-"

"robin" you whimper when she pushes her fingers all the way inside, a wet squelching sound echoing through the room. you should feel embarrassed, you should feel ashamed, for letting your neighbor finger fuck you in her bedroom, all spread out for her. but you don't.

"you're so fucking pretty" she rasps as she starts curling her fingers against that spot inside of you. "and you sound so pretty too, you know that? god i wanna hear more..."

she picks up the pace of her thrusts as she speaks and your back arches up against her.

you can't even keep your eyes open anymore and they fall shut as you desperately rut against her hand.

"eyes on me" robin orders. "i need to see you, god-"

you obey immediately, eyes snapping open to stare up at her. your heart flutters when you see the way her hips are grinding down against the comforters below her.

she's biting her lower lip all while fucking her fingers into you without showing any signs of stopping. but you can tell by the look on robin's face that she wants something too.

"c-come here" you breathe and use your free hand to pat the spot next to you. robin raised her brows in surprise and you glare down to where she is rocking against the mattress.

only the fact that you got her to this point has another wave of arousal washing through you.

"i- i want to...help you too" you blush "can i?"

robin is next to you in an instant. she has to remove her fingers from you for a second, which seems painful, but becomes nearly irrelevant the second she starts unbuttoning her pants for you.

excitement rushes through you as she undresses for you and pulls down both her pants and her underwear.

your eyes glue to the wet patch in her panties before she throws them aside and spreads her own legs, your thighs bumping together in the process.

she looks over at you and your eyes meet.

"are you sure?" she asks and puts a strand of hair behind your ear. "we don't-"

you cut robin off my pressing your lips together in a searing kiss. she gasps in surprise but lets it happen. she places her palm on your cheek while you're making out and moans into your mouth openly.

eventually, you run a hand down her body and she follows suit. you copy her motions and you let your hands wander down the other's body synchronized.

you stop when your palm in cupping her mound and exhale shakily when you feel her wetness against your fingers.

her eyes don't leave yours when she nods and you both dip two fingers into the other's cunt.

you do your best to copy what robin is doing inside of you but it seems to be working, judging by the constant curses and moans that robin can't hold back.

after just a couple of minutes, she goes faster again. slowly at first, you barely notice it, but then her thrusts become uncoordinated too.

"fuck" she groans while she is spreading her legs further. you can see them shaking even from where you're sitting "just like that...good girl"

your own orgasm is fast approaching now. you've been turned on from the minute you walked into her house but would've never guessed that the day would take such turns.

"oh robin" you moan. "fuck you're- your fingers- god"

she lets her head drop back against the pillows, eyes closed and mouth hanging open while her arousal is soaking into the fabric beneath her.

your jaw goes completely slack when she starts rubbing her thumb over your clit and the last thing you can really do is circle your own thumb over her clit as well before the pleasure starts reaching its peak.

"i'm- i think- oh god- i-" you don't even know how to say it.

"fuck, me too" robin moans and that is pretty much all it takes.

your back arches and with obscene moans of her name on your lips, you cum all over her fingers and coat her hands and the blanket below with your release.

you don't stop your own hand from moving, despite the fact that your wrists hurt from the angle, and fuck robin over the edge of her own orgasm as well.

your name sounds so pretty when she calls it out as she cums, a sight you could probably get used to.

"just like that, just like that- fuck- so good for me" robin moans.

neither of you stops until the other is shaking from the aftershocks and can't keep up anymore.

you withdraw your fingers from her slowly and turn to face her. she does the same and you find yourself staring at her. at her beautiful facial features, her freckled skin, and soft lips.

once she has caught her breath, she speaks.

"i've been waiting for this" she whispers.

"me too" you admit and bite your lip.

"you're beautiful"

you know this is only the beginning and there really is no stopping you after what you've done just now.

but maybe that's good. maybe you really want it. and maybe she does too.

it sure seems like it, when she leans in and kisses you.

#robin buckley #neighbor!robin x reader #older!neighbor!robin x reader #older!neighbor!robin buckley #neighbor!robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley smut #robinsno1lesbian drabbles

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thekimspoblog · 3 months

Text

More chatting about BCS w/ @brilliantalpaca

Them: I read the whole thing, Ill reblog it later because there is some stuff I want to give my two cents on

But this is wild to me

Hello? He graduated from law school? Why is blud in charge of the mail?

Me: I mean OP is right; Jimmy isn't OWED a partnership at HHM. The problem is that when Jimmy and Kim ACCEPTED that the firm wasn't going to promote them and struck out on their own, HHM still interfered. I do think Jimmy has a bit of a NiceGuy complex, but not nearly as badly as Walt did. "NiceGuys finish last, so if you're pulling ahead you were never really that nice" is definitely a theme of BCS. But "Who is watching the watchers? Who gets to decide who the gatekeeper is?" is also a theme. Plus... Kim is a god and when she asks for something, you give it to her or you die. Granted, Howard and Chuck had no way of knowing that last part, but still.

Them: The whole middle part is so cracked

Cooked with gas

In any case, and considering Jimothy started a law firm inside a beauty parlor, I think he would have been happy at HMM the second he stopped to push a cart, at least for a while

Like, I dont think the man is ambitious for power or a title or authoritas, but for respect

Thats why he leaves the firm at... You know, the cocobono table place, sorry its been a while

So I think if his brother had respected him a little bit more, well

Me: On the one hand, he just wanted to work next to his brother and his girlfriend. But like... he got that opportunity with Davis and Mainn and he hated it. That place was stuffy; he needed his freedom. It's one thing for Chuck to say "I don't think my brother would be a good fit at my firm. Even if he is talented, his eccentricities are a liability; I don't want to hire him"; I mean that's basically the same conclusion Kim reached. The problem is we never see Howard do any actual work, so the impression we get is that HHM siphons off labor from its employees, then refuses to compensate them adequately or even acknowledge their role as contributing partners. And again, there was definitely some sort of discrimination going on with the way Chuck penalized Kim for associating with Jimmy.

Them: They also put him an intern-copter on his ass, which would sit badly with anyone

And Chuck actively tried to prevent him to practice

Which is very messed up

Me: Again, I can't really blame them. Frankly Jimmy should have treated Erin with more respect; she had worked there longer and even if she was kind of passive aggressive about it, she was just trying to show him the ropes.

Them: I can't blame them either, but thats because I know Jimmy

In any case, trusting the narrative at one hundred percent and confusing Jimmy with a poor little meow meow is something I'm guilty of

Ill admit that

When he usually makes his own bed

Me: Under normal circumstances, I would say wanting to get someone disbarred for sabotaging you is pretty understandable. But again, Chuck started it by stealing Mesa Verde. Jimmy loved Chuck, but he wanted Chuck to admit that he too could be a bit of a hypocrite and a sleazebag. That he wasn't better than Jimmy. And the truth is he really wasn't.

Them: He really really wasnt, he just dressed it up better

Chuck is such an university profesor its insane, they nailed him

Me: To by a hypocrite is to be human. And honestly I think you're an irresponsible lawyer if you CAN'T acknowledge your own biases.

Them: I also didnt realize that yeah, we never see Howard doing... Work on his own, huh?

Like he's there at meetings, with Chuck at the Mesa Verde hearing

But what does he *do*

Me: I assume Howard does actually do quite a bit of paperwork. But this is a tv show, so if they didn't want us to see him as a symbol of the owning class, as a wage thief, they should have framed the story differently.

Them: It is implied, if not stated, hes riding his dad coat tails, right?

I dont know, he may actually just... Be there

Well, no, hes at court at times

Because if we didnt had anything, you know, to a point that becomes a conscious choice even if hes a secondary character ok a tv show

Me: The main reason I'm inclined to cut Jimmy some slack is that on some level, Jimmy knows that he's just plain bad at making choices for himself. He wants to be bossed around, just by someone he trusts. He spent half his life outsourcing his ethical code to his brother, and the other half just following whatever marching orders his wife gave him. So at least in the later seasons of BCS, the best defense to the idea that Jimmy is a bad person is simply "That part was Kim's idea; you want to complain, take it up with management". Right or wrong, he's a man who can biblically submit to his wife; that kind of puts him in a whole other moral universe.

Them: The show also makes ir very easy to fall into the "Jimmy logic hole", where everything he does gets justified by a slight that happened six episodes ago

Me: But like I said, this is why him going to prison is kinda fucked. Instead of growing the hell up and thinking for himself for once, Jimmy surrenders and turns his agency over to the ultimate daddy; the government.

Them: Lel true

Thats actually a good reading

Me: I think it's best to think of Hamlin-Hamlin-McGill-McGill-and-Wexler as just one big firm that ended up cannibalizing itself; neither half of the entity ever became fully independent from the other, and eventually fighting over clients sunk both halves of the business. Kind of fitting with the theme of wildflowers growing on an unmarked grave, I like to think about Iris's relationship to that business and that building. This big, bombastic story we spent six years chronicling, in just two short decades nothing will be remembered about it besides a "how I met your mother" anecdote. George Hamlin wanted to build a family business... well, he got one.

Them: The causes of the firm's undoing bring writing on its own foundation

You know, George Hamlin bringing his son and Chuck bringing his brother

Kim getting dragged into the drama of the whole thing and doing what she does in the show

Me: yes exactly

Them: It all becomes inevitable

Me: Instead of having a long(er) life in prison, my timeline ends with Jimmy dying at age 69 from a heart-attack while fleeing a protest-turned-riot, being remembered as a beloved patriarch martyred for a righteous cause. It's a happier ending than what Vince and Peter would leave him to, but it's still supposed to feel a little perverse: this was the path Kim put him on when she got him out on parole, and on some level she knew this. Iris blames their mother for what happened, and they're not wrong, but at this point remorse is an emotion that doesn't come easily to Kim anymore. She gave him the best life she could, but nothing lasts forever. Still, nothing is set in stone. Jimmy will be a martyr for Kim's revolution if he lets her make him one. But saying "no" to her - AND MEANING IT - is the hardest thing to do. Especially when he knows she's right; that Iris is going to inherit a police state if the parents don't act preemptively.

#better call saul #jimmy x kim #saul goodman

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teamfreewill56-blog · 2 years

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I also don't like Kagaya since he's a good parallel to Muzan, they're just different sides of the same coin, except that I think Kagaya was *smarter than Muzan*.

Just thought that similar to Muzan, Kagaya also approaches people in difficulty to recruit them. Expect that since they're doing something "for a greater good" they're much more motivated to fight. Most of them had lost family to demons and Kagaya speaks and treats them in such a paternal way, which is kinda... So low? But it worked it seems

I think it's less a Kagaya thing and more like in the past one of the leaders developed this way of leading the corps and passed it down (I imagine it being by the time Kokushibou betrayed them and killed one of the masters) and had to find a way to be sure that would make others obedient. Maybe bc the way his children acted during the last arc made me think that is a generational thing

I think it worked because other than Kokushibou and Kaigaku, there aren't mentions of other traitors.

Kagaya is basically "the ends justify the means", he didn't care if what he was doing was morally bad, as his priority was to finish Muzan no matter what, costing the lives of many demon slayers

Sorry for the long text, I'm just hyped that someone is finally questioning Kagaya's character!

Hello!

Yeah I feel like he is a good parallel to Muzan too, and absolutely different sides of the same coin--but I guess that shouldn't be too surprising given that they're related. Lol yes smarter than Muzan but damn that sure is not saying a lot.

Yeah you're right, Kagaya does the "for the greater good" speech and approach and Muzan offers the "vengeance" and ego stroking which makes sense cause that's what those two care about respectively--at least that's what Kagaya "claims".

The speaking to them as children is so so low to me. It is condescending and arrogant and he knows he is doing it! And it's very messed up because just like Muzan Kagaya doesn't care about anybody under his charge and he sure as hell hasn't done anything that constitutes as familial affection towards any of the slayers so he should not be calling them children. And not his children. Half of the Hashira are his age, older and much more mature and capable so him trying to claim them and the other Slayers as his children is such an ego stroke and UGHHHH I HATE IT. And even if its to foster "familial" ties its still superficial and therefore extremely low. He does not care about any of them and it shows.

I agree that its probably passed down, but I disagree that its not a Kagaya thing, because even though its passed down, all of that generational stuff, customs etc played a part in creating Kagaya as we know him, how he thinks, does things as a leader etc. Its not a Kagaya-only thing, but it is a Kagaya thing because he still does those things and I agree it was probably passed down through generations which leads to the more important question of why is this family in charge of the Demon Slayer Corp??? Even if you ignore the whole related to Muzan factor, this family is not good at leading or being in charge of an organization! Plus if you are actually a good leader, the people who follow you should want to be obedient to you, that's supposed to be the whole "implied difference" between Kagaya and Muzan where Muzan forces the demons and Kagaya "supposedly doesn't" but he really does, just through a softer manipulation tactic.

I have to disagree that it worked though, I feel like for most Demon Slayers, especially because they are usually victims of demon attacks/hardships etc the Corp has a very very low risk of people becoming demons in general. Kokkushibo and Kaigaku both became demons because of ego, feelings of inferiority, jealousy etc. But throughout the course of the series we see this kind of ideology is actually very rare. Tanjiro in the final arc talks about how those who died suffered but didn't want that suffering for anyone else and I feel like that's the main reason people join the Corp. That's why they are willing to fight so hard, and are willing to die in the cause.

Kagaya is a "ends justify the means" person for sure, and so is Muzan and like ok fine but Kagaya acts like he isn't! And thats what bugs me! Or he tries to justify it by saying bullshit comments that sound like he's trying to empathize and connect with a person when he isn't! And just like Kagaya wants to talk about about how many people the demons have killed? Dude let's talk about how many people YOUR FAMILY HAS KILLED BECAUSE OF YOUR GENERATIONS OF BAD LEADERSHIP.

No problem! I am definitely not the first fan to speak up about hating Kagaya, and for a while I was just keeping it on the down-low but nah, as a Demon Slayer analyzer I gotta call out Kagaya's bullshit lol.

#anon asks #kagaya ubuyashiki #hate that man #horrible leader #can definitely tell he and Muzan are related #piece of shit dad #piece of shit leader #killed so many innocents for nothing #how is he in charge of the corp like tf????

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bthump · 1 year

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Hi! I’ve just finished the manga recently, and i dug up your blog at 1am bc i was soooo into your analyses! The thing is, the latest chapters are so confusing to me, can you share some thoughts on that? Why do you think Griffith kidnapped Casca? It must be the fetus but, still. Why did he cry? Or what do you think Guts is thinking? Looking forward to your reply!

Oh my god, I think I completely missed this ask somehow, I'm sorry! I hope you see this even though it's been like a month lol.

Yeah I also find the latest chapters a little confusing, probably in part due to the new team taking over and finding their feet.

I'm going on the assumption that Griffith kidnapped Casca to keep the moonboy from wandering off when he transforms into it once a month lol, but I assume we'll find out for sure eventually. It seems like a reasonable theory for now.

I think he cried because he's feeling his own feelings. Possibly his feelings are stronger shortly after transforming back from Moonbaby, as he implies in his dialogue ("That, too, will soon disappear...") but I definitely believe his feelings are his own, and not residual feelings from Moonbaby. I mean first of all, logically, Moonbaby is happy while playing with Guts and Casca, but Griffith is crying out of a sense of "nostalgia." But also more significantly, the story just doesn't work nearly as well if Griffith's feelings really are gone and now he's feeling baby feelings instead, which just happen to mimic the feelings that have been driving the story along for 371 chapters now.

Guts seems to be pretty focused on feeling betrayed by his sword right now lol. This is probably the hardest question to answer for me, mostly because Miura is no longer writing it, so we don't get the emotional nuances he's always been amazing at. I'm sure if he was writing the last few chapters Guts' emotional state would be incredibly interesting and rewarding to delve into and try to analyze. But what we got was Guts in single-minded attack-mode, followed by Guts despairing over failing to hurt Griffith, and feeling betrayed by his sword.

Which is fine, I guess, if kind of silly in the way its been depicted so far lol. It's potentially interesting that he didn't lose himself to the armour while fighting Griffith for some reason - you'd think he would have, considering how one-dimensional his rage seemed to be in that scene, but maybe Griffith making Guts forget his "urge to kill," could factor in there? I'd like to think that if Miura was still writing the story Guts' rage would have a greater sense of emotional complexity to it, after all, like during the Hill of Swords confrontation.

And as for his feelings about his sword, I think that's meant to signify his self-doubt, given the way he views his sword as an intrinsic part of him (and the way he always reroutes more difficult feelings into simpler ones). Guts freaking out over his sword is Guts freaking out over his own abilities - physical, and maybe mental/emotional too, especially if the lack of berserk armour is a factor.

I think that at this point it seems likely that the armour is going to take over in the next few chapters, based largely on the way Guts' little emotional spiral on the boat features metaphorical breaking chains and a potential visual parallel to Griffith's transformation:

Thanks for the ask, and sorry it took so long lol.

#my ask box is kind of messy lol bc I never delete asks so if i answer an ask by c/ping it into another post #or if someone sends one twice or whatever the remainders kinda clog it up #and it can be v hard to remember what i've answered and what i haven't #ask #anonymous #a #b #chapter 371 #theme: speculation

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shopcat · 1 year

Note

omg in terms of the steve never being That bad i also. maybe this is petty haterism for me but this Is based on personal experiences so. i hate it when people go 'oh steve changed bc of nancy its all thanks to nancy nancy literally deserves literally all of the credit for all the good things steve did ever <3' OR when they act like well it was actually good that nancy cheated on him and was so emotionally repressed and broke his heart bc it led to his character development!! LIKE??? are you insane. anyways like yes part of why steve changed as a person is his relationship with nancy but ngl i feel like dustin robin and first and foremost HIMSELF were the catalysts for his genuine further development like. idk when people act like he would be doomed to be evil if not for Jesus Personified Nancy Wheeler its just sooooooooooooo. shut up shut upppp

yeah like even IF in hypothetical he literally only changed because of someone he's still taking the initiative himself to do so and I BELIEVE he obviously makes his own choices.. like yeah the entire catalyst for dropping tommy and carol WAS that they didn't like nancy or whatever and the tension that that caused made him aware of how hateful and intolerant of change they are but tbh i never even saw it as a "he's defending her" thing like he was defending her and also as an extension HIMSELF like if they're trying to imply he's changed/"fallen from grace" by dating her that's a reflection of who he is as well like idk when my housemate is mean to my cat i'm hurt as well bc my cat is an extension of ME

BUT i do think nancy is 100% actually way too villainised in a genuinely at times concerning way and people tend to do the same thing like with every character where it's 0 to 100 and such an insane escalation of hatred and i don't even really like her at least definitely not in the context of Around Steve 😭 nancy is also not some horrible evil bitch OR the Reason Steve Evolved (and its actually a little saaaad he made that little thump on the head speech to me bc it means he also thinks that at least enough to say it. personally i think he was just telling her like Hey i'm glad you were in my life because you helped shape it which is true for most people irl too i think if anyone's interpreting it as "nancy made me who i am" they're not just wrong they're delusional -_-). nancy was just a teenager who also made mistakes but i think they were understandable <3 anyway yeah again the entire point of season 1 is that it is start to finish a complete and entire character arc for steve he changed BY himself through his own actions and decisions it was not for or because of any one person. by the last moments of the finale he is already the version of himself we know and they even SHOW that by him getting jonathan the fucking camera and having nancy give it to him as a meaningful gesture ughh.

#asks #i love nancy's potential i am putting a hold on liking her until s5 to see what happens LMFAO #like it shouldn't BE pivotal on whether or not they continue the stupid ping pong game of a love triangle but it is 😭 which sucks anyway #sts

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peaceisadirtyword · 3 years

Text

Move On VIII (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!♥️ Two weeks later, here you go! I only have two things to say: 1. please don't hate me 2. forgive me because it's too long and it might be a bit boring bc my brain was a bit dry this week. BUT the ending is intense. I almost divided it in two different chapters but I'm ending it on chapter 10 and I already have everything planned😔 Please remember there's two chapters left and anything could happen👀 Now enjoy and thanks for reading!

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, Hvitty is the best, Alfred is cute, Ivar is Ivar, there's smut, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety and I think that's all!

Words: 7122 (the longest chapter I've ever written sorry)

Move On Masterlist

my three favorite boys by @therealcalicali

You had thought about your wedding day, like every single person on Earth. You imagined it being outside, maybe near the sea, or in the forest, maybe the gardens of a beautiful palace. But for some reason, you never imagined the groom's face. It was always about you, the place and the music, the dress, the flowers, the cake... Until you met Ivar.

Getting married wasn't something you wished to do soon, it could wait. It was more a future plan than a wish, because in some way getting married and having a child was something that scared you. Ivar managed to make you change your mind, suddenly you weren't that scared of having kids or the commitment that implies a wedding. It would be fine as long as he was the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle and the one holding your baby. It would be fine as long as it was him there with you.

Weddings were a celebration of love. At least that was what everyone said, two people that loved each other enough to try and make it last forever. Maybe they gave too much importance to the wedding itself and forgot the love part. Or maybe you were so bitter about anything romantic or related to love that you stopped thinking about them as a love gesture and started seeing it as a contract.

You hadn't heard about Ivar again. Not since that day that ended so badly. Hvitserk said he was still with Freydis, and soon he just stopped talking about him at all. Maybe hoping you'd get over him faster if he didn't mention him. But it wasn't really working.

At least you stopped crying. Now it was more like a sad grimace whenever you thought about it, and sometimes, Hvitserk realized you'd stop talking and looked away, biting your lip and probably thinking about him. Especially when there was something that reminded you of him.

But the problem of being so close to someone, shaping your entire life around him and sharing everything together was that there wasn't really anything that didn't remind you of him.

Alfred, Thora and Hvitserk had organized to be around you all the time. Distracting you, forcing you to go out and Hvitserk even let you do his makeup once. Sometimes it was annoying, but you couldn't be mad at them, they were just trying to make you feel better.

You tried to convince Thora and Hvitserk to go to the wedding together, but she didn't want to go to said wedding. As you promised Alfred you'd go with him, he'd be the one picking you up, and you'd see Hvitserk in there.

Of course, Ubbe and Torvi chose a beautiful forest near their own home to celebrate the wedding. A pagan wedding. You had been to a few of those with Ivar, as he and his family still worshipped the Norse gods. But this time you felt like an intruder, as you weren't even part of the family anymore, and your date was a Christian man.

The dress Hvitserk chose didn't look that good on you at home as it had looked on the changing rooms, as always, but you forced yourself to wear it with confidence. You even practiced walking with the new heels you had bought, and at that point you just wished you wouldn't fall in front of everyone.

You chose a very natural makeup, and a simple hairstyle that was within your humble means. You didn't want to draw attention and wished that the guests wouldn't recognize you. The last thing you needed was people talking about you and Ivar.

Traditions were traditions, nonetheless, and you wore red underwear to try and feel a bit sexier. Even if you had tried to get rid of the red dresses and underwear you wore to catch Ivar's attention, that red set in particular was too precious for you. It was the first one he bought you, and you still remembered the first night you wore it.

And, why am I thinking about Ivar now?

You sighed and looked at your own reflect on the mirror. You were ready, just needed to put those deadly traps on your feet and grab your purse. Alfred had called and he was on his way.

Oh yeah, because you're seeing him today. For the first time in months, you were going to see him again and with Freydis on his arm. You didn't even know how you'd react, but it had given you nightmares for days.

The doorbell rang, and you finished putting on the heels before walking to the door and opening it. Alfred looked like a prince, with his black suit and a flower on his hand. A sunflower. It made you smile more than it was socially acceptable.

"Hi" you waved at him "You look good" you winked at him, Alfred chuckled and blushed softly.

"Hello" he nodded politely "You look..." he stopped to look at you in the eye and sighed "Absolutely beautiful"

"Oh, um..." you looked down, flustered "Thank you, I... Didn't expect a compliment now"

Alfred smiled and took your hand, making you twirl and giggle.

"This is for you" he gave you the sunflower. You bit your lip and took it.

"You're always giving me flowers"

"Because you deserve them" he shrugged "Are you ready?"

You nodded. Taking the purse you left next to the door and checking you had everything.

"Okay" you sighed "Let's go"

__________________________________

As soon as you got out of the car someone covered your eyes. You laughed and grabbed his arms to avoid losing your balance.

"Hvitserk" you put his hands away and turned to look at him "Look at you! You look nice"

He did look nice. His dirty blonde hair was braided and the suit looked good on him, it made his green eyes stand out.

"You look very nice too" he winked at you, his flirtatious smirk made you roll your eyes "Nice dress, who chose it?"

"Someone with a very good taste, obviously" you laughed "Are we late?"

Hvitserk turned to greet Alfred. The both of them weren't exactly friends, but thanks to you they were at least civil with each other and you were more than happy with that.

"You're just on time" he sighed "The guests are starting to get in" he pointed at the small path adorned with flowers and wooden decorations that entered the forest "Ubbe is already there, he's surprisingly relaxed, considering the fact he's marrying Torvi" Hvitserk muttered the last part and you raised an eyebrow.

"I would like to say hello to Ubbe before the ceremony starts" said Alfred with a small smile. He was very close to Ubbe, and worked with him frequently. You could say Ubbe was his favorite Lothbrok, and you couldn't blame him.

Hvitserk nodded and stepped back.

"I have to look for my brother, he told me he was close" he explained "But go, I'll catch you later"

My brother, Hvitserk now only referred to Ivar as 'his brother', noticing how you sometimes flinched when you heard his name, even if it was just because the thought of him startled you.

You grabbed Alfred's arm and hoped you wouldn't fall with the heels, he seemed to think the same, because he held you tightly.

"Doesn't it bother you that this is a pagan wedding?" You asked, genuinely curious when you caught a glance of the cross that hang from his neck. It belonged to his biological father, who passed away before he was born.

Alfred seemed amused at the question.

"I'm not bothered by people believing in other Gods, Y/N" he chuckled "In fact, I find paganism very interesting, and Ubbe told me a lot about his Gods and Goddesses, it's interesting, and I don't think my own God would be mad at me for respecting other beliefs"

You nodded slowly. Alfred was very religious, but not on an obsessive way. It was one of the things you liked about him, how relaxed but loyal he was about his religion.

Ivar was also very religious, but focused on a very different religion. It was something they had in common even if they wouldn't ever recognize it, but you could see it in both of them.

"Besides, I'll confess that Norse weddings are often much more fun than the Christian weddings" he added with a smile.

"Oh, are you getting drunk tonight?" you teased with a small smile. Alfred shook his head but laughed.

"Maybe" he raised an eyebrow "But only if you drink with me"

"Obviously" you rolled your eyes "On the last wedding I went to, Hvitserk, Ivar and I stole a bottle of tequila and got drunk on the car while listening to my favorite playlist"

"Wow" he laughed again "Okay, I'll try to keep up with you then"

There was a lot of people at the clearing already. You remembered Ubbe's first wedding, the first one you attended to with Ivar. He looked more relaxed now, and happier.

"Alfred" he greeted your companion with a big smile and a bone-crushing hug. Alfred smiled widely and hugged him back "You look good, man, thanks for coming"

"Of course, Ubbe" when they separated, he touched his shoulder firmly "I'm happy for you"

"I was a bit confused when your family arrived without you" Ubbe pointed to a group of people. When you turned to look at them, they turned around to pretend they weren't looking at you, making you raise an eyebrow and Alfred frown and blush "But I see you have better company" he laughed "Hello, Y/N"

When he leant in to hug you, you sighed. Ubbe gave the best hugs ever.

"Hi" you smiled "Thank you for inviting me"

"Are you joking?" he shook his head "You're like my sister, of course we'd invite you, you look pretty" he nodded "My mother is going to be thrilled to see you" he pointed at Aslaug, who stood all alone away from the crowd "She scolded all of us during the last family dinner, saying how you were too good for this family and we didn't appreciate you enough"

You smiled softly, Aslaug always treated you like a daughter.

"I'm gonna go say hello to her" you looked back at them. Alfred nodded and watched you leave until Ubbe hit his head softly with a smirk.

Aslaug never had a good relationship with the rest of the family. Ivar told you no one truly accepted her when Ragnar divorced Lagertha, and she spent most of the time taking care of Ivar. When Ragnar left, she just ignored them.

Ubbe was right, her eyes lightened up and she gave you a big smile when you approached.

"Y/N! Oh, Gods, you look so beautiful" she hugged you tightly "How have you been? I asked Hvitserk about you but he wasn't very specific"

"Hi" you smiled back at her "I'm fine, I think, you look beautiful too"

She seemed to like that comment. She did look very pretty, with her wavy, blonde hair braided and wearing a beautiful blue dress.

"I'm so glad to see you" she sighed "I missed you, you have to come with Hvitserk some day"

You wondered if she knew about the fact that you had slept with Hvitserk. But just when you were about to reply, she looked at someone just behind you, and you tensed up. There was only one person that could make Aslaug smile like that, and you weren't too excited to see him.

When you turned around, you forgot how to breath for a moment. Ivar wore a dark grey suit, that made his deep blue eyes shine like sapphires. He leant into the crutch and walked slowly, looking around with his eyebrow raised, as if he truly believed no one was worthy of his presence. After months without seeing him, thinking you were actually making progress in moving on, you realized you were still too into him. He was just too much.

When you were able to tear your eyes off of him, you realized Freydis was with him, dressed in red and looking so effortlessly beautiful that you felt like crying again.

Hvitserk reached you first, greeting his mother with a kiss on her cheek and putting his arm around your shoulders.

"Come on, let's go, this is about to begin" he whispered. When you left, you could feel Ivar's eyes on you, nearly burning. You didn't dare to look at him.

_______________________________________

Torvi was so beautiful on her white dress and the flower crown on top of the small braids on her hair that you couldn't help but tear up a bit. Ubbe looked at her with such an intensity, with eyes so full of love that you envied both of them for a moment. They couldn't stop looking at each other, they were so lost in themselves that barely listened to the völva that married them. To be fair, you barely listened either. It made you wish you had someone to look at like that, someone that looked at you like that. A few months earlier, you thought you had it.

Maybe you still could have it, with Alfred. He was the sweetest person you had ever met, and he treated you like a queen, always giving you space and making sure you were okay. You loved him so much you thought you'd explode if he had another sweet gesture with you, but it wasn't romantic love. You could try and maybe in some more months you could fall in love with him, but you didn't want to break his heart, he didn't deserve it.

And Hvitserk? He was your best friend, but even if you could feel attracted to him, you knew it wouldn't work. And both Alfred and Hvitserk deserved true love. But it wasn't you.

Ivar sat on the front rows, with his brothers and his parents. Freydis was sitting next to him, but they didn't touch each other. In fact, they barely talked. Then the völva talked about twin flames, about true love that always found its way through every single obstacle, and when you looked at him, he was looking right back at you.

______________________________________

"You're back to drinking, huh?" Hvitserk laughed while sitting next to you. You groaned and bit your lip to hold back a laugh.

"I needed it" you pouted, looking at the drink you just ordered "Alfred introduced me to his family, but I don't think they like me very much"

Hvitserk stole your drink and took a sip, making you glare at him.

"His family is very protective of him" he shrugged "And you're probably not very popular considering you're Ivar's ex"

You turned your head to look at them, standing at the other side of the room. Judith, Alfred's mother, at least had been nice, but Aethelwulf, his (adoptive) father, looked at you suspiciously. You already knew Aethelred, his brother, but even if he greeted you politely, he didn't seem too happy with you either.

You also spent some time with the newlyweds, Björn and his wife and Lagertha, but you also felt out of place. In fact, you didn't feel comfortable until you stepped away from the crowd and reached the bar.

"There's food there, Hvitserk" you snatched your drink from his hand "Leave my drink alone"

He chuckled.

"I figured you needed some company, you look a bit sad here all alone" he shrugged again "Besides, I don't really feel comfortable in there" he frowned. The guests were finishing their food and getting up to dance and talk around the room. The venue in which the feast took place belonged to a friend of Ubbe's, so they had gotten the biggest salon.

Aslaug chatted with Floki and Helga, Ragnar tried to flirt with an amused Lagertha and Sigurd and Ivar had argued at least three times during the feast, with Björn interfering to avoid a possible murder. So the atmosphere was a bit tense and awkward.

"Remind me to never celebrate a wedding with my family" Hvitserk sighed. You giggled and shook your head "I mean it, is there anything worse than a wedding with a dysfunctional family?"

"A wedding with a functional family" you raised an eyebrow "That would be boring"

Fortunately, no one paid too much attention to you. Helga greeted you excitedly, and Floki hugged you and told you Freki missed you. You teared up remembering the sweet husky they had in Iceland. Sigurd was also nicer to you now than when you were with Ivar. Blaeja smiled to you shyly. Everything was awkward and felt weird, like you shouldn't be there.

The only one you hadn't talked to was Ragnar and, of course, Ivar. After he was finished eating, he sat down with Freydis. She tried to say hello to you with a sweet smile but Alfred had interrupted her and took you away. You nearly kissed him in gratitude.

"My father asked about you" Hvitserk added when he saw you staring at Ragnar, who was now talking to Harald Finehair.

"Really?" you frowned "I didn't think he'd remember me"

Even if you had been with Ivar for years, you had only met his father a few times, during important events or festivities. Usually, he was traveling the world, working and avoiding his responsibilities as a husband and a father.

"Of course he remembers you, he always asked about you... Don't tell anyone, but you were his favorite daughter-in-law, remember that time when you managed to make Ivar apologize to Sigurd after he insulted him during Jul? He was impressed"

"And he told you that" you rolled your eyes, thinking Hvitserk was probably making it up to make you feel better.

"Yes, he did, he also called Ivar a fucking idiot when he heard he left you, it was the first time I agreed with my father in a long time"

That made you smile.

"Your family is too nice with me" you sighed "I'm gonna miss them"

That startled Hvitserk.

"What? Why? Where are you going?" he glared at you "You're not leaving"

"I don't know" you took another sip of your drink "I talked to Alfred about it, he had friends in England that could help me get a job there and..."

"England?" Hvitserk scowled "You're moving to England?"

"I'm not" his indignation amused you "Not for now, I think, it's just an idea"

"You can't leave me here" he pouted "Who is going to come with me to the pub then?"

"I'm sure you'd find someone to get drunk with pretty soon"

He shook his head, and the two of you stayed in silence for a couple of minutes.

"It's impossible to replace you, Y/N" he whispered "You're too special for that"

"Aw" you felt a lump in your throat and the urge to hug him "That's sweet, Hvitty"

"I mean it" he winked at you "You're great, I just wish you saw it too"

"Keep saying these things to me and I'll give you my drink"

He smiled, but shook his head and stood up.

"I'm going to talk to Ubbe" he announced, you saw he was now talking to Floki and Aslaug, away from Björn and Lagertha "I have something to give to him"

You nodded and watched him leave with a small smile. Once again, you should have fallen in love with him.

_______________________________

After three drinks, you stopped feeling intimidated by the crowd, at least a bit, and felt brave enough to get closer to it. Your eyes fixed on Ivar and Freydis, still sitting down and who seemed to be having a deep conversation. It didn't look good, but before you could even start wondering what they were talking about, someone put their arm around you, startling you.

"Hello, Y/N" you turned around to see Ragnar, already a bit drunk and with a big smile on his lips. His eyes, so similar to Ivar's, seemed to look directly into your soul "Long time no see"

"Hi" you smiled at him "How are you?"

He frowned, then grimaced and then shook his head.

"I'm... Alive" he shrugged "So, you and little Alfred?"

Ragnar Lothbrok wasn't one to beat around the bush.

"We're friends" you chuckled "He's been an amazing friend to me these past months"

"Yeah, after my... Brilliant son fucked it up" he clenched his jaw, taking a sip of his beer "Alfred is a really good kid, son of a great man"

"He's the best" you nodded "Did you know his father?"

For the first time, the smile on Ragnar's face faltered.

"Yes, I did" he cleared his throat "He was a very good friend of mine"

"He'd be proud of his son, then" you smiled, looking at Alfred who was currently talking to his brother.

"He would" Ragnar nodded "Unfortunately, I can't say the same for my own sons" he muttered, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" you chuckled.

"I must admit it's my fault" he sighed "They inherited it from me, the capacity of ruining everything when they have a great woman by their side" you'd swear his eyes fixed on Lagertha and then on Aslaug for a moment "Ivar is the smartest boy I've ever seen, but he can also be stupid sometimes, you know it, because you understand him better than anyone, better than himself, even than his own mother" you bit your lip, looking away "And I know he regrets it"

"Look, I really love Ivar" you sighed "I will always love him because he was a very important part of my life for years, but he's happy with Freydis now, and I'm glad he's happy"

Ragnar chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'd argue with you on that, but Alfred is coming and I think you deserve a good time with him now rather than talking about my son" he winked "See you around, Y/N"

Before you could reply, he left, walking towards the bar as he finished his drink.

"Hello" Alfred stopped next to you, also looking at Ragnar with an eyebrow raised "Everything okay?"

You turned your head and smiled softly at him.

"Yes, I think" you giggled "It's just Ragnar being weird"

He hummed, like he understood exactly what you meant.

"I just wanted to ask you if you..." he looked around with a frown, and blushed furiously "Maybe, want to dance?"

You were surprised, thinking no one really danced at these things, but a quick look around made you realized that people were definitely dancing, or well, at least they were trying.

Ubbe and Torvi moved slowly together, with their foreheads pressed together and a small smile on their lips. Around them, some couples danced at the rhythm of a slow song.

"Oh, um..." you licked your lips, nervously "Sure, I'd love to"

Alfred looked relieved, and took your hand softly, leading you to the dance floor. Or well, the part of the salon on which people danced.

He knew how to dance, of course he did. You nearly rolled your eyes when he whispered that you should put your hand on his shoulder and started leading your movements. He was too soft, too polite and too perfect. You looked at his face intensely as he danced and you moved clumsily with him. He didn't make eye contact, too nervous and always looking down.

"Alfred" you pouted "You're one of the most amazing men I've ever met" you stopped moving to hug him "Oh my god, I wish I could..."

He hugged you back, nodding against your neck.

"I wish that too" he muttered "But I can't force you"

"I tried, I really did, and I love you so much, but..."

"Hey" he stopped hugging you, and cupped your face softly "Look at me, Y/N, you don't have to explain yourself, you feel what you feel and it's fine, I'll get over it" he giggled as you teared up, feeling the worst person in the world "We're friends, and that will never change"

You nodded.

"Thank you" you took a deep breath "For everything"

"Of course" he smiled "I think it's time you start being a bit more selfish and put yourself first, stop worrying about what the others are feeling, focus on yourself"

You hugged him again and kissed his cheek.

"I'm gonna go get some air" you took a deep breath "I'll be back, okay?"

He nodded, letting you go. You rushed to the door and left the building, only breathing again when you were out in the garden. It was a pretty entrance, with cobblestones, a lovely fountain and some flowers. At least it was peaceful and quiet. Or you thought it was, because you heard a metal noise and a groan, which made you jump and gasp before you looked to the side.

It was already dark, and the only source of light were the lovely streetlights adorned with ivy. It came from one of the benches at the side of the entrance, and you nearly cried when you saw the source of the noise.

"Ivar?" you sighed, drying your tears with your fingers "What are you doing here?"

He raised his head and glared at you with his jaw clenched, he had been focused on his braces and didn't even hear you approaching. When he didn't reply, you frowned and walked towards him, walking slowly to avoid falling down with the damned heels.

"Where's Freydis?" you asked softly, understanding something was wrong.

"She left" his voice sounded dry and empty, almost as if he had been crying.

"Why?"

"Because I told her to leave" he pouted. Ivar had the tendency to pout, and he hated when you said he looked cute doing it, probably thinking he looked intimidating.

You sat down on the bench, and decided not to ask because he didn't seem too inclined to talk about it.

"What's wrong with the braces?" you asked slowly.

"I don't know" he groaned, grabbing his right leg "I think I moved it and..." his lip started trembling when he started fiddling with it again.

"Stop" you tried to grab his hand, but he ignored you "Ivar, stop, you're going to hurt yourself"

"Why do you care?" he raised his voice, making you scoff "Why don't you go back there with Alfred?"

"Don't yell" you glared at him "After everything you've done, you don't get to yell at me"

He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with his hands and shaking his head.

"I want to go home" he sighed "I can't go back there"

"Hey, what happened?" you were starting to get worried, because that wasn't like Ivar "Should I call your brothers? Your mother?"

"No" he shrugged "They will just rant about how stupid I am for letting you go"

You looked away again.

"You did hurt me" you muttered "A lot"

Ivar didn't look at you either.

"That's the worst part" he scoffed "That they're right"

This time you did look at him, surprised and with your lips parted. For a moment, you felt the need to hug and kiss him, but you couldn't.

"If you know they're right why did you do it? And I don't mean breaking up with me, I mean being so cruel, treating me like I was nothing to you"

"I don't know, Y/N" he sighed tiredly "I was angry, you moved on"

"I didn't move on!" you scoffed "Dear God, Ivar, I couldn't move on, I spent the worst months of my life trying to but I couldn't, you're such an asshole" you groaned "You broke up with me, acted like I was nothing but a burden to you, you made me feel like I wasn't good enough, and then had the audacity of acting like I was the one that fucked everything up!"

Ivar's eyes were full of tears when he raised his head again.

"I don't feel like talking about that now"

You were about to keep ranting when you looked at his eyes for the first time, and gasped when you saw how blue they were.

"Did you take your medicines today?" you frowned when he shook his head "Why? Oh God" you groaned "Should we go to the hospital?"

He shook his head again.

"I just want to go home"

"Are you in too much pain, Ivar? Wait, I'll call a cab" you unlocked your phone and stood up.

_________________________________

You had never seen Ivar like that. So quiet and sad, looking at his own feet and not even reacting when you sat down next to him again.

"The cab will be here in ten minutes" you announced softly, regretting being to harsh on him a few minutes earlier "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Maybe we should, it might get worse, what if something happens?" you bit your lip nervously "I should go and tell your family"

"No" he grabbed your arm when you were about to stand up again "Don't tell them, it'll be fine as soon as I get home, take the pills and rest a bit"

"Okay" you sighed "But at least let me get Hvitserk so he can go with you"

Ivar's face changed again, this time he looked like a lost puppy, his pouty lips parted and his eyes fixed on yours, nearly begging.

"Aren't you coming with me?" he whispered, and you sighed.

"I shouldn't" you muttered in reply "I don't think..."

"Please" he insisted, and you noticed the two of you were too close "We need to talk"

He was so soft, so vulnerable in that moment that you nodded slowly, and let yourself lean into him slowly just before you heard someone calling your name.

Hvitserk left the building at the same time you got away from Ivar quickly turning your head to look at him. Ivar looked irritated by the interruption, but didn't say anything.

"Hey" he looked surprised to see the both of you there "Y/N, Alfred said you'd be out here" he frowned "Ivar, I was looking for you... Is everything okay?"

"Hi" you smiled softly "Ivar is not feeling good, he's in pain" you explained, standing up and approaching him "I called a cab"

Hvitserk's big brother side showed up when he walked over to Ivar, frowning.

"You didn't take the medicines?"

"I fought with Freydis, I forgot" he shrugged.

"Where is she?" Hvitserk looked around, a bit confused.

Ivar didn't reply, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly.

You gave them a few minutes together, until you approached them again. Hvitserk stood up with a sigh and shook his head.

"You can leave" he said softly, caressing your arm "I will stay with him"

You heard the cab arriving and looked at Ivar.

"I..." you took Hvitserk's hands "Maybe I should stay with him"

He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Y/N..."

"It's okay" you chuckled "It's fine, Hvitserk, I'm fine"

"Are you sure?" he whispered "He is..."

"I know, and it will be okay, we... Need to talk, I think"

If Hvitserk thought you were stupid, he didn't say it.

"If you need anything, call me, okay?"

You nodded as he kissed your temple softly. You could feel Ivar's eyes on you, burning, when the cab stopped next to you and Hvitserk turned to help him.

____________________________________

It felt too familiar to enter their flat, to help Ivar sit on the couch before taking the medicines to him with a glass of water. You were so used to the process that for a moment you forgot everything had changed since the last time you did it.

He did look more relaxed after a few minutes, when you sat on the couch and took your heels off with a tired sigh. You could feel Ivar's eyes on you, but tried to ignore him, too exhausted to start arguing with him again. You felt the pressure on your chest again, as you always did when someone mentioned him or when you saw him, but this time it was a bit less intense, maybe because Freydis wasn't around.

"I'm going to bed" he announced after a few minutes, you supposed that the strong painkillers had already kicked it at least a bit "Today was shit"

You wanted to scream at him, every day had been shit for the last few months because of him. But you were too exhausted of yelling, arguing and crying because of him, you wanted a truce, even if it was just for a few hours.

Ivar got up, grunting and taking deep breaths as he moved slowly towards his bedroom. At first, you weren't even thinking about helping him, you had already done too much for him that night, much more than he actually deserved. But when you looked at him and saw him struggling, you couldn't help it and got up to help him. Usually, Ivar would frown and say he didn't need help, but this time he didn't say a word until you reached his bedroom.

You bit your lip, looking around the room and remembering the last time you were in there. Ivar let himself fall on the bed and sighed in relief when he got to take the braces off. You sat on the bed and looked at him sternly.

"Hvitserk said you've been skipping therapy sessions" you narrowed your eyes at him "And didn't go to doctor's appointments, this is what you get for being an idiot"

Ivar raised an eyebrow, and the ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he turned his head to you.

"You and Hvitserk talked a lot about me, didn't you?" he scoffed "Did he also mention me when you were fucking?"

You rolled your eyes, but you weren't going to play his game anymore, not that night.

"Anyway, I'm leaving" you stood up "Go to sleep and call the doctor tomorrow"

Ivar narrowed his eyes at you.

"I thought we needed to talk" he scowled "But now you want to run back to Alfred"

"Look" you sighed, crossing your arms "You're tired and on a bad mood, I'm tired and a bit drunk, talking it's probably not a good idea, so try and get some rest and we'll talk some other day"

"I saw you dancing" he ignored you completely, making you sigh again "With him"

"Yes, and what about it? You have no right to be bothered by that, because you were with your girlfriend"

"She's no longer my girlfriend" he clenched his jaw and his voice broke a bit "It's over"

Your expression softened. Even if you'd love to slap him in that moment, your heart broke a bit knowing he was hurt.

"What happened?" you asked softly "The last time you told me you loved each other and all of that"

Ivar shrugged, looking away and taking a deep breath.

"I don't know, I suppose she didn't love me that much"

You looked at him with a pout. You could feel that dull pain on your heart when you thought about him, you missed him with your entire life, the thought of your relationship hurt and you knew it will keep hurting forever. Ivar probably didn't care about you, or maybe he saw you more like a friend, because it was obvious Freydis had marked him much more than you in just a few months, you had seen him looking at her. So probably she was his Ivar, that thing that would be painful his entire life.

A part of you wanted to be happy. They broke up, he was mistaken and it didn't work out. But you couldn't do it when you looked into his eyes and saw pain. You couldn't see him in pain.

"I'm sorry" you said softly.

"Are you?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes" you rolled your eyes "I don't want to see you sad"

"Wouldn't you feel better yelling and insulting me?"

"Maybe" you shrugged "But I don't have the strength to do it"

Ivar nodded. He didn't have the energy to fight either. You laid down next to him, careful not to wrinkle the dress. Ivar stared at you intensely, and felt the tug on his chest again. He missed you more than he actually realized. It had been during the wedding, when he saw you looking stunning, smiling and greeting people... With Alfred next to you. He knew you'd be worried about him because he hadn't taken the medicines, that you'd make him sit down and would make everyone approach him so he wouldn't have to walk, that you'd take care of him, and if he was feeling better, would make him try to dance with you after the feast. Now you were dancing with Alfred, giggling and hugging his brother, and barely looked at him. And Freydis noticed.

When you looked at him again, he was much closer than you remembered, and it started you as you tried to move, flustered and suddenly very nervous.

"Y/N" he muttered, his hand grabbed your wrist softly and you widened your eyes "Stay, please"

You got lost into his eyes again. They had something magnetic, that attracted and locked you in.

His hand cupped your head to pull you closer, and the pressure on your chest turned into a warm feeling when his lips pressed against yours. It was like coming back after a long trip, when you realized just how much you had missed home, and everything was familiar and in its place. You closed your eyes and kissed him back slowly, too into him to even realize what was happening. Ivar broke the kiss and pecked your lips again a couple of times before deepening the kiss. His hand traveled down your back, making you tremble, until it reached your waist. You couldn't remember when was the last time Ivar kissed you like that, not even when the two of you were still together. He caressed your body over the soft fabric of the dress, and you vaguely thought about the wrinkles but realized you didn't even care.

"Ivar" you muttered against his lips "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, but kissed you again as his fingers fumbled with the zip of your dress.

"You looked so beautiful today" he sighed "I couldn't stand to even think about someone else taking this dress off"

You were going to reply, but his lips on your neck turned what was going to be a dignified reply into a moan. Ivar had that thing, that charm that was too much for you to handle. He knew your weaknesses, your soft spots and what to do to make you melt in his arms. He knew you couldn't resist him, not even if you wanted to.

It was like going back in time, all the thoughts about the breakup, Freydis, Alfred and Hvitserk left your mind as he took the dress off, throwing it to the other side of the room and biting his lip with a smirk when he recognized the underwear. You tugged on his clothes, and the two of you broke the kiss so he could take the shirt and the tie. You sighed when you saw his tattoos again. You has missed him so much, and how his warm skin felt under your fingers, how his body tensed under your touch.

"Can I?" he asked biting your lower lip, his fingers grazed the side of your panties and you closed your eyes in anticipation before nodding.

"Yes" you moaned, moving to straddle him as you took your bra off. Ivar groaned and pushed his hips against you. Finally, his fingers found your sex, and he pressed onto your clit, and when he started rubbing it in circles you started trembling again.

You tried to touch his member, but you could barely move, until he pushed your panties aside and two of his fingers teased your entrance before entering you. The both of you moaned at the same time, and you moved your hips against his hand trying to follow his pace.

"Gods, you look so beautiful" he groaned, his free hand caressed your body and his lips captured one of your nipples. It was too much, and when he pressed his palm against your clit you gasped and your walls clenched around his fingers. But then he stopped, and your moans of pleasure turned into a bothered whine. You opened your eyes to glare at him and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're not going to cum until I'm inside of you" he whispered against your neck. You quickly fumbled with his pants, and when you finally freed his hard member Ivar groaned again. You would have loved to return the favor and leave him on the edge, but you couldn't wait, you needed him. You had waited enough.

"Put it in for me, kitten"

You nearly came hearing his voice on your ear, whispering the pet name he used to call you. Your hand clenched around his cock and he rolled his eyes and moaned deeply, letting you enjoy pretending you had the power for a few seconds. Until you pressed his member against your entrance and he grabbed your hips and thrusted into you.

Your mouth widened on a silent moan. It was intense, and Ivar let you adjust to the size before starting moving, but once he started, he couldn't stop. He sat down to kiss you again, and you grabbed his shoulders and his arms when your legs were too weak to support you anymore.

"Ivar" you moaned against his neck "God, Ivar"

"I missed you so much" he muttered, and it sounded like he truly meant it.

You didn't really have time to think whether he meant it or not because the warm tingle on your lower belly was becoming too much. Your walls started clenching around him and his thrust became sloppy. He breathed heavily against your skin.

"I'm not going to last" he whispered again "You're too much"

You had missed this Ivar so much.

You came around him, moaning his name and digging your nails into his back, your body shaking around him and your face hidden into his neck. Ivar came right after you, and he quickly turned his head to fix his ocean eyes into yours, with his pouty and swollen lips parted just before kissing you again, making you sigh and smile, happy for the first time in months.

____________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @poisonous00 @littlebear423 @justbloodlydreaming @xbellaxcarolinax @soleil-dor @geekydane-post @katarokkar11 @crackhead1-800 @momowhoo @pedrolorian @flokisdaughter @crazybunnyladysworld @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @jungkxxkk @satanhalsey @nanahachikyuu @cocovikings23 @ecarroll1978 @darlingjae

#ivar imagine #ivar smut #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #vikings #modern ivar #modern vikings #move on

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tim-stonker · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, mentioned Georgie Barker/Melanie King Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Elias Bouchard, Melanie King, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, mentioned Basira Hussain, im sorry queen it was a 5+1 and u were number 6 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, more like AU elias isnt a bitch, 5 Times, Mutual Pining, implied Nonbinar Jonathan Sims, he's gnc, Getting Together, Comfort No Hurt, bc we need that, Just Pals Being Soft, dimples as a plot point Summary:

5 times people didn't see jon's smile plus the 1 time someone did

i wrote some gay shit about jon smiling and it became this. whole thing is under the cut, check it out on ao3 if u wanna !

-5

Jonathan Sims was an unexpected candidate for the position of Archivist, following Gertrude Robinson’s rather abrupt retirement (Elias still wasn’t sure if she was actually telling the truth when she said she wanted to spend more time travelling with her grandson. He didn’t even know if she actually had a grandson.) When word got out that there was an opening for head archivist, it surprised both Elias and Jon’s manager when he put his application into the pool. While Jon wasn’t the highest position in Research, he wasn’t at the lowest tier either, and everyone knew that being Head Archivist was much like being the mayor of a ghost town. Sure, you had a fancy title, but not much else. The Archives were in the basement, they were cold and dusty, and typically, if a budget needed to be cut, it was the Archives that took the brunt of the slashes. But, Jon was organized, faked his confidence well enough, was willing to put in the work, and, if Elias was being honest with himself, there wasn’t exactly a queue out the door to take over the vacancy that Gertrude left.

The interview went well enough, though Jon was clearly filled with nervous excitement. He kept reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ear - it was too short to stay in place, but much too long to not be a bother. His voice almost echoed in Elias’ office, strong and precise, even when he struggled with some questions that Elias asked about his strengths and weaknesses. Elias appreciated the way that Jon carried himself, the slight aura of grandeur and pride that he seemed to give off, contrasting starkly with his awkward attempts at being personable.

Though Elias told Jon that he’ll be in touch within a few days to inform him whether or not he’ll be transferred to the Archives, he’s already certain that there’s no better candidate, and, if nothing else, he loathes having new hires from outside the Institute. He can overlook a few missing qualifications if it means he can cut down on the number of interviews he has to conduct.

Elias waited a few more days, finished up more interviews, and found his suspicions were correct. Jon - despite the roughness around his edges, and his lack of a library sciences degree (an aspect that makes Rosie raise her eyebrows at Elias when he mentions it) - is the best fit for the archives that Elias has. He calls Jon into his office again, watching as Jon delicately maneuvers into the chair on the other side of Elias’s desk, fingers picking at the sleeves of his cardigan.

“I’m happy to tell you, Jonathan, that after much consideration, that you have been promoted to Head Archivist. Your transfer from the Research department will be put through promptly, and - unless you have any objections - you can begin your new role as soon as next Monday. Congratulations.”

As Elias spoke, he watched as Jon’s eyes widened, eyebrows raise, as the tension melted out of his shoulders. The corners of his lips seemed to flicker, wanting to curl upwards, but not quite able to.

“I, oh, wow. Thank you, Elias. I, uh, I’m really excited to be working in the Archives.” Jon stammered out. His voice had less of the confident bravado that it had during his interview, and while that would usually make Elias reconsider his choice, the fact that all of Jon’s nervous ticks seemed to have disappeared sated his concern.

Elias nodded, hummed, and launched into the less fun aspect of promotion, namely discussion of new contracts, pay raises, the fact that Jon would be able to ask some of his co-workers to become his assistants, but any vacancies will be filled at Elias’s discretion. Jon nodded along and asked the appropriate questions at the right time.

Perhaps he’s just bad at expressing emotions, Elias thought, though the thought is both fleeting and insignificant. It gets pushed out of the way, quickly, and is discarded, not to be thought again.

When the meeting was over, Elias stood up to show Jon to the door. Just before Jon left, Elias stuck his hand out, and once again said, “Congratulations, Jon.”

Jon looked startled for a second, before reaching out and giving Elias a hearty handshake.

“Thank you, Elias, really,” Jon replied. While saying that, the corner of his mouth twitched once again, and for a moment, Jon’s face began to break out into a smile. Eyes excited and bright, before he schooled his expression back into one of vaguely happy neutrality.

Elias released Jon’s hand, and when his office was once again empty of everyone except himself, he briefly wondered why anyone cares enough about smiling to prevent themselves from doing it.

Like most intrapersonal thoughts, though, Elias waved it away, going back to his own work, just glad that he didn’t have to get Rosie to put up any more job listings on Linkedin.

-4

Tim was surprised when Jon approached him with the job offer. Sure, he and Jon had worked together for a few years and Jon frequently complimented Tim on his work and whenever Jon actually showed up to work get-togethers, he seemed to awkwardly stick to Tim’s side like glue until the event was done. But Jon always declined Tim’s invites to non-work social gatherings, and sometimes it was hard to tell if the snark in Jon’s voice came from malice or…. Something else.

Tim had chalked all that up to awkwardness or to Jon’s work ethic, but for some reason, he never thought that Jon actually considered Tim to be a friend, even though he did tentatively think of Jon as one. So it was rather shocking when Jon marched up to him, a small stack of papers in his hands at the end of the workday, and announced,

“I’ve been promoted to Head Archivist.”

“Oh, well, congrats, Jon,” Tim said, smiling. He clapped Jon on the shoulder. “Yeah, I heard you put your application in.” Tim didn’t mention that he heard because some of their co-workers were making jokes about hoping to see the last of Jon, with his insane work ethic and snappish remarks.

Jon nodded. “I’m also allowed to pick my own assistants since many of Gertrude’s have quit or been reassigned since her absence.”

“That’s cool.”

“I was wondering if you would like to join me in the Archives, Tim.”

“Oh,” Tim said, eyes widening. Jon looked straight at him, unflinching, though his hands were curled into tight balls at his sides. This was certainly unexpected.

“I think we work well together. You do really good work, and while I’m not exactly sure what… extra work transferring to the archives will entail, I’m that your presence will be beneficial.” Finally, Jon broke Tim’s gaze. “Also, I… quite enjoy your company.”

“Wow, well, thank you, Jon,” Tim managed to stammer out. He looked at Jon’s now sheepish expression and how his cheeks had taken on a slightly red tinge from the honesty. “Uh, can I… think about it? For a few days? It’s just… kind of a big change.”

“Oh, of course, Tim,” Jon nodded earnestly, passing Tim the stack of papers, which Tim now saw as a would-be employment contract, with different sections highlighted, presumably the parts that Jon thought Tim would find important. Jon made like he was about to turn to leave before he paused and said, “Also I. I won’t be offended if you decide to stay put.”

“Oh, I know,” Tim said, even though he wasn’t sure why he knew. Jon nodded again.

“Well, see you tomorrow.” And with that and a brief wave, Jon walked away, leaving Tim to stare at the employment papers and to think about what to do. And Tim did consider it. He had a pretty good thing going on in the Research department. He was well-liked, and many of his managers said that he could probably get promoted to a higher position with a better salary in a few years, and though the entry position of archival assistant was better paying than his current gig, Tim knew he was never going to get promoted from that role.

Tim had friends in Research, but he also had friends in artifacts, and finance, and HR. The more he thought about it, it wasn’t like his work-social life would end if he went to the basement. And, as much as his co-workers liked to poke fun at Jon, Tim did genuinely enjoy his company. He liked his wit, and snark, and the way he tried to play off his awkwardness and usually failed. And despite his somewhat clumsy attempts at socializing, anytime Tim talked about his life outside of work, Jon listened, made jokes, and was friendly.

Jon was also quite easy on the eyes, in his own strange way.

Tim found it wasn’t really much of a hard decision after all. So when he walked into work the next day and tossed the signed contract on Jon’s desk, all he said was, “It better not be as dusty as everyone says it is.”

Before walking off to his own desk to finish up his own projects, for a moment he thought he saw Jon duck his head to smile. But when he looked back, Jon was just holding the contract, and though his eyes were happy, his face was straight.

-3

Sasha enjoyed her work as an archival assistant, despite all the dust, and Jon’s moodiness, and the strange errands that the statements sent everyone on. It was an unorthodox job, cleaning up the decades of bizarre filing that Gertrude left, hunting down follow-ups from people who were clearly drunk, sick, or delirious at the time that these ‘occurrences’, well, occurred.

She certainly enjoyed her co-workers, basement dwellers that they were. While archives and research had many employees and had been on floors where different departments mingled, the four of them - Tim, Sasha, Martin, and Jon - were stuck down in the cool basement, surrounded by files, and books, and old foundation. While she had been on amicable terms with Tim before, the forced proximity brought them much closer, and she was happy to meet and befriend Martin. Pretty quickly the three of them began to go out for drinks after work, plan dinners, and movie nights, and get-togethers on weekends. They sometimes invited Jon, but the answer was also unanimously no.

Still, despite Jon’s rebuffs at having a social life, Sasha always felt like her relationship with him was… different than the others. While Tim and Jon had prior acquaintanceship, Sasha only briefly knew Jon in research; and Jon was either oblivious or blatantly ignoring Martin’s crush on him, rebuffing his attempts of flirting and courtship with harsh words and mumbled, unfocused ‘thank yous’ when Martin brought him tea.

It surprised her how highly Jon thought of her, and how well they got on.

“Here’s that statement you were after,” Sasha said, after knocking on Jon’s office door. Jon turned in his chair to face her, hand outreached to take the folder when she got close enough.

“Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, as he grasped the folder. Sasha nodded and was about to let go when she glanced down and saw Jon’s hand.

“Is that nail polish?” She asked suddenly, voice coming out more accusatory than she intended. Jon snatched the folder away from her, curling his fingers into his palms as soon as the paper hit the desk surface. He still wore his face of neutrality, but his jaw was tense. Sasha was surprised at how defensive, and how quickly, Jon reacted to the question, but immediately saw she needed to remedy it. She quickly added, “It looks nice.”

As soon as the compliment was said, Jon seemed to relax a bit. His jaw unclenched and slowly he unfurled his fingers. His nails were a simple black, though it was a messy job and they were already chipping.

“Oh, thank you.” He said softly.

“Did you do them yourself?” Sasha asked, even though she couldn’t imagine Jon asking for help to do his nails.

“Yes, er. As a child, I always wanted to paint my nails but I couldn’t, so.” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “They’re not very good, are they?”

Sasha shrugged. “Pretty good for a first time, though. Next time you’ll want to push your cuticles back first, and you should probably get a varnish too. It’ll stop them from chipping so much.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Sasha,” Jon said, clearly not expecting advice. Sasha gave one last nod, and a, “No problem.” before leaving Jon’s office.

After that - or maybe Sasha just noticed it more afterwards - Jon seemed to come to work ‘prettied up’ more often. He seemed to listen to her nail advice, and while he often sported plain, black nails - sans chipping, thanks to the nice clear coat he put on - a few times he came into work with blue, or red, or green nails. While Martin and Tim always complimented them, if they noticed, Jon began going up to Sasha to show her every fresh set. Often it would be a week or two between appearances; Jon seemed to just let the previous coat chip off completely before repainting them, approaching Sasha with his hands curled in a way so that he could view his own nails before showing them off to her. Sasha always made sure that she seemed excited to see them, even if they weren’t always that good. The way that Jon seemed to loosen after every compliment, the way his face would soften just a tad made it worth it.

Soon it became their little routine, even as Jon’s habits changed. While it started with nails, soon Jon would awkwardly approach her to show off the fancy braid he just learned how to do with his growing hair. Often, they were messy and uneven, large strands falling out of the cheap hair ties, but Sasha would say it was nice, before offering to fix it for him. Jon always declined, disappearing into his office and coming out later, braid abandoned and hair in its usual neat bun, but Sasha always offered. For a while, Jon had taken to looking at the clothes Sasha came to work in, awkwardly complimenting her on whatever coat or blouse or shoes she had worn. It took Sasha a few times to realize what he was saying - or at least thinking.

“I like your skirt,” Jon mumbled one day, as he and Sasha walked into the archives. “It’s very pretty.”

Sasha hummed, looking down at it. It wasn’t anything fantastic, just a black a-line skirt with a vaguely plaid pattern, long enough to be work-appropriate without annoying her. She mostly wore it because the growing pile of dirty laundry in her flat left her few other options.

“Thank you, Jon,” she replied, before pursing her lips. “You know, I think you would look quite nice in a skirt.”

A bold move, Sasha knew, but after Jon sputtered for a moment, he managed to choke out, “You… you do?”

“Oh, yes. You got nice, slender legs, and if one a little longer it would just add to the frumpy librarian look quite nicely.” Sasha laughed a little, unable to resist the urge to tease a little. Jon gave a polite chuckle and nodded.

They repeated this process a few more times, over a few weeks. Jon would give Sasha a sincere, if not a bit bumbling compliment on her wardrobe or appearance (often for items Sasha did not care for that much) and after thanking him, she would flip it around and say, “I think this lipgloss colour would suit you better than me” or " a blouse like this would make your collarbones look good” or even being as bold as saying “You should get a dress like it, then we can match.”

Jon would brush the comments off with a laugh or a denial, but Sasha could see the wheels in his head-turning, the way he would occasionally look at whatever pair of pants he was wearing that day and frown.

Eventually, Sasha’s hard and not-so-subtle work paid off when she saw Jon shuffle into the archives, not in his usual attire of plain cardigan and button-up, tucked into a pair of boring pants, but with a new look: a cardigan and plain button-up tucked into a shockingly boring skirt. It suited him, though; the long grey fabric skimming his ankles, the way it would flow behind and the way his feet would kick it in front. Jon’s fingers seemed to be absent-mindedly twisting themselves into the fabric, as he made his way towards his office.

Sasha was right; Jon did rock the frumpy librarian look.

“Good morning, Jon,” Sasha greeted, cheerfully. Jon looked up.

“Morning, Sasha.”

“New wardrobe?” She asked, nodding at his outfit. Jon seemed to falter a little, standing still, waiting for her assessment. “I like it! Really suits you.”

And while that was a bit of a lie - Sasha found it to be a bit boring, and she would never have even considered buying herself, though it did quite Jon wonderfully - Sasha couldn’t bring herself to feel the least bit bad, when she heard Jon mutter a soft, “Thank you,” before hurrying to his office. For a split second, Sasha would have sworn that his lips were pulled into a smile, thought for a moment she saw a flash of his teeth, but he was opening and closing his office door before she could confirm.

-2

Despite all her grumbling, thrown insults, and jabs, Melanie didn’t actually dislike Jon. Well, no, she did dislike him, immensely. He’s smug, and rude, and has a know-it-all attitude, and he absolutely did not take her show seriously. But, behind all of that, he respected her abilities and her competence, if not the way that she uses it. She thought of it like she wouldn’t want anything to hurt Jon unless it was her giving him a good slap around the head.

Still, when she ended up hanging around the Archives more - and shockingly, no one, not even Jon, tried to stop her - after her show fell apart and took most of her professional network with it, she’s surprised how much common ground she shares with Jon. At first, they needed someone else in the room with them, to grease the wheels of conversation - either Sasha siding with Melanie every once in a while, or a well-timed joke from Tim, or Martin’s placating tone - but every time they found themselves able to stand each other without any assistance, even starting their own conversation. Without her show, with its staged dramatics and clickbait titles to feed Jon’s antagonisms, they find that they have similar opinions and histories with the supernatural.

“Most statements and stories are completely false,” Jon had repeated many times. But soon he began to add, “But the ones that are real are… deeply concerning, and hard to come by.”

More than a few times Jon had caught Melanie digging through filing cabinets, looking for a statement with a shred of truth in it, anything to follow up or make a story out of. After the third time that Jon threw open the door to the filing room and nearly gave himself a heart attack when the light illuminated Melanie’s hunch over figure, reading through a pile of folders that she most certainly was not going to put away properly, Jon sighed and asked, “Why don’t I just give you some statements that seem real.”

Melanie looked up from the file in her hand that she was about to discard. “You’d do that? Isn’t that against ‘policy’ or something.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s no more breaking rules than allowing you in here in the first place.” He eyed the pile of statements on the floor, the open drawer with crumbled papers shoved in. “Besides, I’m tired of having to spend an entire day refiling after you pop in.”

And so, Jon started keeping track of statements he believes. First on sticky notes, then on looseleaf paper, and eventually in a notebook so that Melanie can keep track as she goes along, Jon wrote down the name and case number of what he believes are credible cases, and Melanie dug them out of their dusty tombs. Even if she didn’t put them away - which she rarely did, can’t go making Jon’s life too easy, she thought with a grin - it was clear that he appreciated knowing exactly where they came from. She still browsed around, skimming through statements that Jon doesn’t believe, but she puts those ones back where she finds them if they weren't worth her time.

Their strange friendship continued like that for a few months. They steered clear of personal topics, even, no, especially, as Melanie began going on dates with Georgie. Occasionally, a personal detail would slip in; Jon mentioned that he hates denim skirts after telling Melanie about a statement that, for some reason, explicitly mentions them (“And what makes you an expert on what women should wear?” Melanie asked, annoyance clear in her.

Jon furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No, I’m talking about me. I hate wearing denim skirts.”

“Oh,” Melanie says, the wind coming out of her sails. “Uh, me too.”). At one point Melanie mentioned that she loves artificial blue raspberry, which made Jon scrunch his nose in disgust. Before they knew it, Melanie and Jon knew about the other’s thoughts on movies, books, fashion, the weather, politics, animals, food, and whether or not Rosie is dating that one woman from HR.

It was a slow and gradual shift, one that caught both of them off guard. But neither was anxious to prevent it and really, Melanie was kind of interested to see where it would go. It’s with that thought in mind, seeing how this will go, that she throws a folder onto Jon’s desk. He hadn’t looked up when she knocked and entered without waiting, but with the manila folder obscuring whatever paperwork he was doing, he sighs and lifts his head.

“Yes, Melanie?”

“This statement was misfiled,” Melanie said, glee and gloating oozing out of her voice. She cackled when she saw Jon scowl, arms crossing automatically. He glanced down at the casefile.

“It most certainly was not,” Jon huffed, picking it up. He doesn’t even mention how it wasn’t a file he gave her, so keen to prove her wrong. “It was filed by year, 2006, subsection ‘non-human creature’, subsection ‘false’ and-”

“Exactly,” Melanie interrupted. “It’s not fake.”

“What do you mean it’s not fake.” Jon narrowed his eyes. “It’s about a bloody sea monster!”

“A sea monster which is described in another statement from 1984,” Melanie threw another folder onto his desk, which Jon hadn’t noticed in her hand in his haste to disagree, “And, one that causes damage similar to this accident report,” Melanie unlocked her phone and shoved it into Jon’s face. His eyes crossed and squinted as he tried to read the news article on the screen. “Which, by the way, all occur in the same region of the Barents Sea.”

Jon lifted his eyes from the phone screen, still slightly glaring at Melanie. He looked away after a second, raising a hand to scratch the side of his face.

“Well, then, I guess we will have to look into it some more,” his voice was different than what Melanie was used to. Behind the movement of his hand, Melanie thought she saw some falses of teeth and saw a slight twinkle in his eye. He quickly dropped his face, expression and voice back to normal, “But, this is not permission for you to go back to rummaging through my files!”

Melanie grinned wolfishly, putting a hand on her hip. The gentle voice and expression were already leaving her mind. “Like I ever needed your permission, Jon.”

-1

It was almost surprising how well Daisy got on with Jon. She supposed it was because they were both a bit quieter than the people around them, got a bit more drained from human interaction than others, a bit more like old souls. Only, Daisy was more of an ‘old soul’ because the thought of all the therapy she had to go through years ago still made her tired and because she was literally about fifteen years older than everyone else in the Archives.

“Why is it that your joints hurt more than mine even though you’re a baby?” Daisy asked, after finding Jon laying on the floor of his office, hair and dress fanned out on the floor. When she had questioned his state, he just mumbled, “m’back hurts.”

Calling him a baby made him grumble more. “I’m not a baby, I am a grown man-”

“More like an old man.” Daisy joked, sitting down cross-legged by his head. “Seriously, you’re too young to be aching this much.”

Jon shrugged, shirt rustling against the carpet. “I’ve always ached. I guess having a desk job just made it worse.”

Daisy nodded. She couldn’t really relate; all her old aches hadn’t been physical, and before the archives all her jobs involved in a lot of moving - whether it was fast food as a teenager, or retail as a young adult, and then the police.

“You should go to a chiropractor, get a massage.” She suggested.

“Chiropractor and masseuse are two different professions.”

“Piss off, you know what I’m saying.” Jon rolled his eyes and squirmed a bit on the floor.

“I don’t like the thought of someone… massaging me.”

“It feels really good,” Daisy replies, thinking back to the few massages she had gotten in her life. “And chiropractors don’t really massage, they just snap your joints back into place and then give you weird exercises to do.”

Jon shrugged again and didn’t say anything. Daisy wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t have anything to say, or if his previous movement made something along his spine twinge. After a minute of silence, with Jon’s face occasionally morphing from boredom to discomfort, Daisy got an idea.

“Stand up,” she said, getting to her feet herself. Jon looked up, startled.

“Why?”

“Just do it,” Daisy stuck her hand out for Jon to take. With a little effort, Jon sat up, groaning a little, before taking her stand to stand. As soon as he was upright, Daisy reached down to hold Jon from under his armpits.

“Uh, Daisy, what are you doing?” Jon asked, arms sticking straight out, stiff, as Daisy brought his body closer to her.

“I’m going to reset your back,” Daisy said, as Jon’s face squished against her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this a few times, it usually helps.”

Jon mumbled something, before yelping when Daisy stood closer to her full height and he was lifted a few inches off the ground. Jon’s arms instinctually went around Daisy’s shoulders, even though she was fully supporting his weight.

“Okay, you gotta relax your body, untense your muscles- Jon that is the opposite of untensing. There you go, okay, you’re going to hear a crack,” She said, before squeezing Jon into her body, forearms pressed across different parts of his back. There was a loud crack as she felt Jon tighten his arms around her and give a little yell into her shoulder.

She loosened her grip, but still held him close for a second, just in case. She felt his mouth move against her shirt, and at first, she thought he was mumbling something, but then the movement ceased for a few seconds. Another small movement, and then no motion once again. Finally, she lowered Jon to the floor and released him. He stood, and quickly went to smoothing out his shirt.

“How’d that feel?” Daisy asks, noticing how he wasn’t automatically going back to lie on the ground. Jon stilled for a second, before saying,

“It feels a lot better. Thank you, Daisy.”

Martin knew he wasn’t subtle, at least not when it came to Jon. He knew practically anyone who came down to the Archives could tell he had a crush, knew that his attempts to coddle, and talk to, and make Jon proud were just about as sly as painting a banner that said: “I WANT TO DATE JONATHAN SIMS.”

He almost couldn’t help it. Sure, he had gotten a bit better at not letting Jon treat him like a doormat over the years - sometimes Jon even seemed pleasantly surprised when Martin told him off for being mean - but there was still an undeniable urge to be gentle with him, to treat him kindly, to make him smile.

Not that anyone had any recollection of Jon smiling - hell, Tim even made a few jokes that Jon was probably in a terrible accident as a smile and ‘broke his smile muscles, but left his annoying muscles intact’. It wasn’t very funny, but Martin and Sasha still laughed.

Still, in some masochistic kind of way, Martin enjoyed this prolonged courtship. And even though his friends were sure that nothing was advancing, that Martin was still being a pining fool (which wasn’t an inaccurate description) and Jon was still being an unrequiting idiot, Martin was sure that he was making progress. Jon and he were having more… moments. More times where they would make eye contact and Jon’s face would soften, more conversations where Jon would ramble off-topic, at ease and relaxed, before remembering himself and Martin and roping him back into the conversation. There would be times where Martin would pass Jon a cup of tea, mug angled so that Jon could easily grab the handle, and yet Jon would take the mug in such a way that their fingers would brush. Sometimes they even lingered there, the heat of ceramic burning his hand, almost unnoticeable in comparison to the heat of his face as Jon glanced at him through his eyelashes, saying, “Thank you, Martin.”

Maybe it was just because no one else was privy to these moments, or maybe Martin really was just a yearning fool, desperately grasping at anything that suggested Jon returned his affection, but no one else seemed to understand these moments or take them seriously.

“Your crush is getting out of control,” Tim said one day, after watching Martin bring Jon tea in a mug covered in hearts. “Like, legally speaking, I think it’s too much.”

Martin rolled his eyes. Jon had stared at the mug for a few seconds before taking it, and even though it was still piping hot, much too warm to comfortably drink, he took a sip as soon as it was in his grasp. “This is lovely, Martin. Thank you.”

“Leave it alone, Tim, it’s fine,” Martin replied, going back to sit at his desk.

“No, it is getting a bit ridiculous,” Sasha agreed. “I mean, how long have you been after him? Like, I love Jon, trust me, but he’s either oblivious or ignoring your, uh, flirting attempts.”

“He’s not ignoring them.”

“So he’s just oblivious?”

“I don’t think so.” Sasha and Tim looked at him strangely. He sighed. “Look, things are fine, okay? It’s fine, just let me… do my thing.”

“Fine, we will ‘let you do your thing’ but, for the record, you probably could have gotten with at least three people in the time that you’ve been lusting after Jon,” Tim said, earning a laugh from Sasha.

But it was fine, whatever he and Jon had. It was certainly more than what he had been getting before, and even though he wanted more - chest aching at the sight of a frazzled or tired Jon, feeling the need to brush his hair out of his face, to press tender kisses to his eyelids, the near unbearably desire to just hold him, and care for him - Martin wasn’t unhappy. And somehow he knew Jon wasn’t either.

Sometimes Jon even sought Martin out, intentionally leaving his stuffy office only to walk over to Martin's desk and chat with him for a few minutes before returning. Often he would have to return a minute later, muttering about leaving a pen or a pencil or a hair tie. (One time, as Jon turned around to leave, Martin saw the pen on the edge of his desk, and said, “You left your pen.”

Jon had turned around, looking almost disappointed. “Oh. Yes, thank you, Martin.”

He collected his pen and returned to his office. Martin didn’t see him until he said goodbye for the night. The next time he saw Jon dropping something at his desk, he didn’t mention it.)

When Jon actually remembered to eat lunch now, he would only come out to eat if Martin hadn’t eaten already, as he had taken to sitting either across or directly next to him during meal times. If Jon was sitting next to him - usually because Melanie or Basira were sitting across the shifty breakroom table - Martin could feel Jon gently, almost shyly, pressing his knee against Martin’s leg. Jon’s face was always blank, but if Martin made any move to shift away, Jon’s head would snap towards him until contact was either completely broken or restored.

Of course, there wasn’t an easy way to explain this to anyone else. How could Martin have possibly hoped to quantify glances, and touches, and the new intonations when Jon said ‘Martin’, the name now completely different than what Jon used to call him, despite no letters changing. How to explain it when no one else seemed to notice the magnitude of these changes if they noticed the changes at all?

So Martin rolled his eyes and made jokes with the others as they teased and prodded him about his ‘crush that was going nowhere on the boss’, and hoped, like so many times before, that Jon couldn’t hear them through his office door.

As pathetic as it sounded, Martin was prepared to play the long game, to continue this dance he and Jon had begun as long as it took, to tolerate the unbearable loneliness that crept up on him at home so long as he got to see Jon at work, to keep bringing him tea every day until, well, until something happened, or until one of them left the archives. Martin had made peace with that fact, though he loathed to admit it, even to himself.

And then, Jon asked for his help one day.

“Can you stay late with me this evening? I need some assistance looking into a statement.” Jon had been formal, professional when he asked.

“Of course,” Martin said, if not because any time spent with Jon was a good time (usually, not even Martin was in deep enough to enjoy some of Jon’s moods), then because he did take his job seriously. “Anything you need.”

“I can stay behind too if you need extra help,” Basira offered, turning to look at Jon.

Jon nodded at her. “Thank you for offering, but I’ll only be needing Martin.”

And he has to admit, hearing that did bring warmth to his face and to his chest.

The help that Jon needed was minimal. Some of it was just reaching a file of a self that was too high since the stepladder that he used to use had broken, and Martin knew that Jon had too much pride to ask for help reaching something when everyone was in. Otherwise, all he needed assistance with was looking over a few files to see if a name popped up in all of them. All in all, it only took about half an hour, including the time it took to re-sort the files and put the relevant ones on Jon’s desk.

As Martin was preparing to leave, Jon approached him one more time, also clad in his winter coat and bulky scarf tucked under his chin. He stood in front of Martin, looking intently. Martin waited for, well, something. Jon took a deep breath.

“Would- Are you- Do,” Jon scowled at himself, took another breath and reached up to tug his scarf lower again so that more of his face was visible. “Martin, would you like to go out to eat with me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Martin replied, cheeks reddening slightly. Jon paused for a moment.

“I mean this as a date.”

Martin looked at Jon, bundled in his winter wear, hair slightly tangled, fumbling over asking Martin out!

“I knew that’s what you meant,” Martin said with a smile. He looked down at Jon’s hands, clenched tightly into themselves. He reached a hand out and carefully brushed a finger along the knuckles of on. “Of course, I would like to go on a date with you.”

And when he looked up, he saw Jon smiling, and it felt like seeing the stars for the first time. Jon always said he looked much older than he was, which Martin was inclined to agree, but when he smiled, he looked more his age. The tiredness and stress that plagued his expressions disappeared under the glow of his grin, eyes crinkled, and. Dimples.

Jon had dimples, nestled in between his smile lines, a secret that Martin knew he was now the only one in the Institute besides Jon who knew they existed.

“You have dimples,” Martin said, a smile creeping onto his own face. “They’re cute.”

Jon sputtered a, “No they’re not!” and Martin could see he was trying to return his face to its usually impassive expression, but it seemed that every time he got close, his grin would break through. Eventually, Jon tugged his scarf up to cover his mouth, but Martin still saw his eyes crinkled, somehow still felt Jon smiling through the layers.

“They’re cute,” Martin repeated, wanting to pull Jon’s scarf down again. This want was different than what he usually felt, a desire not tinged with sadness or loss. Maybe it was presumptuous, but Martin knew that this urge would be met. Maybe not now, but soon.

And Martin thought about Jon’s smile, even when he asked, voice muffled behind the layers of wool, where Martin wanted to go to eat, and would Martin like to walk, transit or take a cab there, and, and and.

Martin thought about Jon’s smile, knowing he was one of the few people to see it, knowing that he would get to see it again

#jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #fanfic #links #jon x martin #i hate having to share fics to tumblr idk why but they always look so UGLY

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