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wcbblife · 2 months

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pls literally anything kate martin it’s so dry out here 🙏🙏 maybe like kate x influncer reader or something idk

Sure can! We'll get through this drought together ✊ (Did I write too much? Yes. Do I regret it? No.)

Kate Martin x influencer/soccer player reader

How you two met: You play for the soccer team at Iowa university. So naturally, after the season ended you usually spend some of your afternoons playing pickup soccer at the local parks nearby to satisfy the itch to always be playing your sport. Another hobby you also like to do a lot is to record your journey. You vlog about your flights, your training, practices, your tips on how to have a balanced life between sports and studies, and some behind the scenes with your team members. You have a fairly large following of 500k subscribers due to your personality and engaging content. On one particular afternoon, your fiery competitive spirit and impressive skills are able to catch the attention of one particular person amidst the small crowd that always gathered to watch the simple matches. It was none other than Kate Martin. Once the match ended you had seen one of your teammates walk over towards you and Kate followed right behind her (since Kate seems so friendly i def think she hangs out with other athletes outside of basketball). As you packed your things, you felt a pair of pretty eyes staring at your every move. You decide to start the convo up by saying that you watch all her games because you love the way she plays. You watch as her cheeks get a little rosy and she goes on a cute little rant about how she watches your vlogs and videos and that, whenever she could, she would drop by to see your team play. You joke that you guys should hang up so she could teach you to play basketball before your teammate says that she and her girlfriend (who was someone you play with and against constantly in these simple matches) had to go. She leaves you alone with Kate and you bring up that you guys should definitely hang out and she brings out the idea of going to recovery together cuz why not since she will undoubtedly be busy with her own season starting. You agree and that’s the beginning of how you two started talking.

How you got close: So as mentioned above, you guys definitely see each other around the athletic and rehab center in the university. Since you practice off season, you prefer to be safe than sorry and attend your recovery session religiously. Thanks to this, you guys are able to strike up conversations here and there but they're never too long. Not until you need to get into the dreaded ice bath for one session after being inexplicably sore for days on end. You decide that it's the perfect time to get your camera out and record your funny reaction to it to later post it. While walking over to your doom, you come face to face with Kate. You shamelessly note that she was wearing really revealing clothes. She smiles and asks where you’re headed and you explain and she immediately asks if she could join you cuz she was going over there too. Once you get there you turn on your camera and explain to the viewers what was going to happen. While you did that, you felt Kate looming behind you. You stop the camera and ask what’s wrong and she gets a little embarrassed asking you cute questions about how the camera worked. You laugh and give her a little class while you two sit side by side while you show her the basics. She jokes that she would love to be your camerawoman and you don’t have it in you to say no. Not with the way she stares at you with her eyes. (Anyway before I get carried away) You set the camera up so that it catches you both while you get into the big tub of ice. She laughs as she watches you shuffle awkwardly towards the cold pit of despair and pokes at you with jokes about how you look rn. You shoot her a look and grab a handful of water to throw her way. She shrieks and grabs your wrist to stop you, letting her hold lingering a little longer than normal (you also note just how strong Kate is). Snapping out of whatever was between you all of the sudden with her touch, you look at the camera and think screw it, getting in hastily without double thinking about it. You regret it immediately, screaming and Kate doubles down with laughter. What she doesn’t expect is for you to yank her inside out of spite. In an attempt to stop herself from falling into the cold water, she holds a hand out towards the edge, but you’ve tugged her down enough for her to have no choice but to step over the edge and fall into the tub. This, however, leads to you being placed in another unfortunate position. She holds the edges of the tub, trying to adjust to the coldness, while single handedly pinning you to the edge of the metal tub. It takes a few seconds to register, especially with you looking up at her while she lets out short puffs of air, while her muscles on her toned stomach contract. Kate seems to notice this and moves back to the other side. You clear your throat and turn to the camera with a funny face while you ignore the rosy blush that has settled on Kate’s face. After this it was just a mixture of flirting and flattery between you too.

She went to see you often when you played and brought you snacks or just went to simply support you. It’s obvious you started to show up more recently to her games to watch her play in person instead of from your home. It’s hard to say if that was the reason, but whenever you went to her games she always showed off. Whether it was double-doubles or even one triple-double. When the games would end she would act all cocky and say that it was normal but you would see the blinding smile on her lips when you would tell her good job. What you liked was how the adrenaline crash would hit her (not in a bad way) after a hard and long game and win. She would be super soft and slow and be all cute. You once insisted on driving her towards her dorms because she was too tired and she insisted on putting on music. You let her ofc and what follows is her singing her heart out while lazily looking over towards you every now and then. She reaches over and uses your hand as a mic and you can’t help but laugh. After a few songs you notice how the playlist switches to flowers songs and Kate never lets go of the hold of your hand.

No question she loves being in your vids. She has also definitely made you do a challenge video about hot sauces (ik it’s random but she def would). Other than that, you both do a bunch of silly challenges together. She also gave you the idea of starting this new “series” of her just basically teaching you the basics for basketball and vice versa. This becomes a huge hit online. What goes on behind the scenes is different tho. On video, you guys seem strictly platonic and playful with you cracking jokes and making fun when you mess up really bad on one certain move. However, once the cameras are off Kate is more free and less tense. She is more touchy, especially when showing you how to shoot the basketball properly (Like you can’t tell me this woman wouldn’t wrap her arms around your shoulders to position your hands on the ball. Don’t even get me started with defense and the way yall would be so close). You (I) also find it lowkey hot whenever you guys are done with your little secession and she’s panting and sweaty. You lowkey like it even more when she gets out of the locker room showers all clean and fresh.

How she asks you out: After basically a few weeks of her popping up in your vids both of your fans suddenly notice you two getting closer and closer. One day you’re recording while walking to get a massage. You turn a corner and come face to face with what seems like a wall. You jump back when you realize you just ran into Kate. You turn the camera off and smile up at her. You ask her where she’s headed but something’s off. You watch as she doesn’t look at you and avoids any type of eye contact as she fumbles over her words. A laugh comes from you as you go up to turn your camera back on but she shocks you by snatching the camera away. You ask her what was wrong and she mumbles something you can’t catch so you ask her to speak up and even get on your tiptoes to lean into her space to hear her better. She tries again and you can faintly hear her asking you out on a date. To say you were shocked was an understatement but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel something forming between you too after these weeks spent together. Ofc you said yes.

You guys go out to a cliche aquarium date (bc i love aquariums what about it). Once you guys get there it seems like something has lifted off her shoulder and she’s acting like a totally different person. She’s more touchy and a real charmer (shamelessly putting an arm around your shoulder and uses her height over you to her advantage. When someone gets too close she definitely stands next to you and the person to create distance and def had a sweet interaction with a kid I mean c'mon). She’s taking sneaky pics of you and trust she would kiss you under those tunnels with the blue lights and fishes, making her look so good after you both tiptoe around it all day.

How it is to date her: (keeping it on the DL is so sexy idc what anyone says) Although Kate isn’t a huge name like Caitlin, you both reach an agreement to keep it on the dl. That and the addition of your evergrowing vlog page. This being said, Kate would appear more in your videos and it’s not really a secret. She shows up in your study videos in the background, helps out with your workout videos, does Q&As with you, and when you're off season she definitely travels with you.

She’s a very caring person and def loves to cuddle after a long day. She also kisses the ground you walk on (You can’t tell me she doesn’t have photo albums of you and her). (Can I also say that she’s a tremendous kisser? TRUST that she will make out with you in a secret room in the stadium because she just can’t wait until you get home after a game). Kate is your personal cheerleader in games and would treat you like a princess after your games (she’s drawing a bath and brushing your hair and basically doing all the work for you while praising you on how well you did).

After a hard loss however it’s a whole different story. You can’t lie tho…It’s your favorite side of Kate. You can see it in her as soon as the buzzer sounds (especially after she scores a lot and still loses oml). Kate basically disappears into the crowd and into the locker room before you can catch her. After a bit of time and unanswered calls and text messages, you decide to walk towards the locker rooms and are surprised when you're tugged into a small storage room. Kate immediately gets to work and smashes her lips with yours and lets her hands wander around you. You just love the way her rosy cheeks look and how sinful her eyes were as she let them shamelessly look you over. Kate isn’t up for any talking tho. Her moves are sloppy and desperate, like she couldn't care less if someone busted you two right then and there. Whenever you try to talk and try to get her to calm down she just goes back and kick starts another makeout sesh.

#kate martin #iowa wbb #wcbb #kate martin x reader #caitlin clark #women's basketball #iowa hawkeyes

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drewsbuzzcut · 3 months

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So Lovely, It Feels So Right

Mat barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: SMUT, alcohol consumption, and mentions of tattoos (let me know if I missed anything)

Tonight’s the Isles wags’ annual galentine’s get together. It’s nothing fancy, just an intimate gathering at the Martin’s house. There are drinks, snacks, and a small gift exchange.

After laughing so hard your stomachs hurt and drinking various bottles of wine, it’s finally your turn to open your gift. You gently pull out the tissue paper and uncover a black thong with “i ❤️ barzal” printed on the front. You let out an infectious giggle, your cheeks growing red hot.

“Syd! Oh my god. I cannot believe you got me this,” you shriek, hands covering your eyes in faux shyness. You actually liked your little gift- that’d also be a gift for Mat.

“I wanted to get you something on brand for your relationship. We all know you love taking your man to bed. Anyways, soon you’ll be a Barzal,” she points out and you grow flustered thinking about your upcoming nuptials.

Once everyone opens their gifts and finishes their last glass of wine, someone suggests going to a tattoo shop and who are you to not go through with it? Maybe it isn’t the best idea for a bunch of inebriated women to go get tattoos, but you’ll never be one to deny a good time. Mat’s in for a treat later.

Walking up to your front door serves as a challenge, your heel keeps getting caught in the cobblestone of your driveway. It doesn’t help that your buzz is still lingering in your limbs. Finally pushing the door open, you sashay into your house. The sting of your fresh tattoo is very well present as you think about what Mat’s reaction will be like.

You walk in looking disheveled but content. Your cheeks are rosy and your eyes are glossy. Your hair is in its signature messy bun, tank top hiked up your chest to hide your newest addition to your ink collection. You don’t get far before you find Mat in the game room, playing around at the pool table.

“Baby,” you announce your presence, slowly making your way towards him.

As you round a corner of the pool table, your fingers trace the “Barzal” engraved in the wood. Your engagement ring catches every angle of the lighting, making it shine and making Mat’s heart race. He cannot wait to marry you.

“Hey, have a good night?” He asks, pulling you into his arms and swaying with you.

“A wonderful night. We laughed a lot. We also had a lot of wine,” you answer with your eyes closed in delight.

“I can tell,” that piqued your interest. You pop a single eye open.

“What do you mean?” You hop onto the edge of the pool table, arms looped over your fiancés shoulders.

“You’re all giggly and touchy. Major signs that you’re drunk,” he explains, kissing your neck.

You stay silent, too focused on his lips on your skin.

“Did Nolan go down easy?” You finally clear your head from thoughts of the man in front of you.

“Of course. He’s the most perfect baby. He had his bottle and I rocked him in the chair for a couple of hours before putting him in his crib. He’s all bundled up, too. He looks so precious,” Mat says and you coo just thinking about your baby boy.

“I’m glad he didn’t give you any trouble with his bottle. He’s been giving me hell just because I try to feed him with the bottle,” you sigh, body leaning into his.

“He’s a little momma’s boy. I can’t blame him.” You definitely agree with that.

Minutes pass by, Mat and you just looking into each other’s eyes. Every now and then he’ll play with your ring. It’s become a habit of his.

“I’m not drunk you know you,” you tut and tilt your head to the side, your eyes playfully glare him.

“Tipsy but not drunk,” you add, your heel clad feet reaching out to rub against his muscly thighs. He immediately catches your hint. You are feeling needy which is a usual occurrence when you drink wine.

“What do you need, pretty girl?” His voice gets raspy and he picks up your legs one by one and takes off your heels.

“You, baby. I need you,” you pull him down into a kiss, head starting to spin when he invades your mouth with his tongue.

His hands caress your thighs over your jeans, steadily rising to the button and zipper. The heat in the room rises and the moisture starts to collect in your underwear when he starts to undo your pants.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs when he sees your specially made panties.

You giggle and pull him into another kiss, this time you’re the one shoving your tongue down his throat. You grip and pull at his soft locks, just the way his touch grips your every nerve ending and sets them alight. Plus, the moans that vibrate through his chest are enough of a reason to not let go.

He guides you back to lay down, your body erupting in chills from his touch on your bare skin and the cold of the table. He softly squeezes at your legs in a subtle tease before pulling down your thong with his teeth, eyes zeroed in on your reaction. Just by the way your chest heaves and your legs subconsciously widen is proof enough that you’re enjoying what he’s doing.

Your core glistens for him and he wants so badly to dive into your wet folds, but he always wants to tease you. If it’s for a minute or more depends on his mood. He’s feeling giving and generous, so he won’t tease you too much but just work you up until you’re antsy. He kneels down, eyesight perfectly level with one of his favorite sights: you, wet and begging. He lays kisses up your legs, nipping tenderly at the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You reach down and intertwine your fingers with his, your ring biting at his skin, a reminder of your future. Continuing on his path upward, he purses his lips and blows a cool stream of air on your wetness, eyes darkening at your whimpers. He lets a small laugh pass through his lips and presses a sweet kiss just below your belly button.

“Do something, please,” you beg, squeezing his hand.

“Do what?” He acts innocent, but you know he’s just trying to get you to voice your needs.

“Eat me out or fuck me. Just do something,” you whine, a low scream falling from your lips as he leans up to mouth at your neck. His clothed cock rubs against your pussy, sending tingles throughout your entire body.

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy,” he whispers in your ear, sending you into a frenzy of sexual tension that’s dying to be resolved.

“If you don’t do anything, I’ll just get myself off,” you sass, closing your legs just a bit.

Mat stops you before you can close them all the way, his fingers opening you up so he can spit on your clit. The feral urge you have for him increases just by the action alone. You lift up your hips, but he quickly pins them down. Your annoyed huff turns into an airy moan when his thick fingers spreading your wetness around your fluttering hole. He delicately kisses around your mound, pressing a loving kiss to your clit.

The few deep breaths you take don’t prepare you for the way pleasure engulfs your body when Mat wraps his lips around your clit. His tongue nudges it while his lips continuously suction around the bud. You tug at your own hair, feeling your mind grow fuzzy when you hear his obscene moans. The vibration feels even better.

“You like that, baby?” He speaks his words into the apex of your thighs.

You numbly nod your head, already high on the overwhelming bliss that comes from his mouth alone.

“Words, baby,” he trades his lips for his finger tip, softly massaging slow circles into your bundle of nerves.

“I love it so much. It feels so good,” you comply albeit being breathless.

Every rational thought flees your head when he starts tracing his name with the tip of his tongue, sending you on a hazy spiral towards your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby. I’m yours,” you chant, knowing he was staking his claim even though he doesn’t need to.

You don’t even realize him pulling away until he’s pushing your tank top further up your chest, unveiling your boobs. He loves when you’re braless. He licks his lips, leaving sucking kisses all up your torso. For a quick moment you snap out of your daze, remembering your new tattoo that your fiancé still doesn’t know about. Luckily, he doesn’t pull your top off all the way.

“Is my pretty girl still sensitive?” He knows damn well your boobs are still sensitive from breastfeeding for 7 months.

You whisper a yes, but it’s quickly replaced with a cry as he softly sucks them into his mouth. It doesn’t last long because you’re still producing milk, so he decides to suck on the flesh surrounding your nipples. No low cut tops are in your future unless you want people to witness the craving Mat’s mouth had. You will definitely be looking like a cheetah after he’s done with you.

You lift your hips up into him, begging for friction, but also distracting him from eventually making his way to your tattoo. You didn’t want him to see it just yet.

He spreads your folds open again, not holding back and he immediately starts lapping up your arousal. The slurping noises fill your ears and his ravenous moans make you even wetter.

“You taste so good, pretty girl. I can eat your pretty pussy all day,” he praises, voice sweet and thick like honey.

“I love you,” you reply.

“I love you.” His words are followed by his tongue entering your weeping hole.

Your body arches off the pool table, screams and moan ripping from your throat as he fucks you with his tongue. Again, your hips lift up, but this time Mat doesn’t press them down. He holds up your lower body, burying his face in your pussy.

“Fuck. Just like that, baby. Please don’t stop.”

The vibrations from his moans and grunts make your brain short circuit, the mind numbing sensation has you in its palm.

You reach down, a hand back in his hair and the other planted on his upper back. The cold metal of your ring feels nice against his warm skin.

“I’m going to cum,” you whine, your cunt clenching down on his tongue.

“Not yet.”

“Please,” it comes out in a gasp, Mat’s thick fingers sinking into your pussy.

His fingers move slowly in a come hither motion, dragging out your pleasure and making you wait until you can let that knot in your stomach snap. His tongue flattens against your clit, his face moving side to side to continuously apply friction.

“Maty, please. I can’t do it. I need to cum, please,” you beg, legs closing around Mat’s head.

“I need you to hold it baby,” he whispers against your soaking cunt.

“I can’t. I can’t,” your body is trembling and you’re trying to steady yourself, but it feels too good. Your orgasm is on the brink of destruction.

He sets you down, one hand pressing into your lower abdomen while his fingers fuck up into you. Throwing your head back, both your arms reach out to grip onto something. Tears stream down your face, but you’ve never felt more alive.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess,” he finally gives you the green light.

Everything goes blurry, the pressure in your stomach releases and you feel liquid squirt out of you, and the state of euphoria your body is in is unexplainable. Mat’s fingers work you through your orgasm with slow strokes but still enough to make you twitch.

“You’re so beautiful, my love. I didn’t know you could squirt like that,” he muses, pecking your thighs.

You whimper when he pulls his fingers out. It’s erotic the way your release drips down his hand. For a moment, you think he’ll lick it up, but you’re proven wrong when he gets you to sit up. He guides his fingers to your mouth and you willingly suck on them, moaning at the taste of yourself. Your eyes peer into his eyes, hooded and dark, they reel him in. Out are his fingers, and his lips press to yours. Salacious moans pass between your mouths when he sucks on your tongue. He’ll never get tired of your taste.

“I love you,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, nipping and pulling at your bottom one.

You smile dazedly at him, feeling sleepy and cuddly in his arms.

“Come on, baby. Let me take you upstairs and get you in a bath,” he coos, rubbing at your back.

“In one minute. I want to stay here in your arms for a little while. I missed you today,” you kiss his chin and the side of his jaw.

“Nols and I did, too,” he says.

“Tomorrow we cuddle in bed all day,” you state.

“Whatever you want. Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I love you,” he tells you.

You look over at the clock hanging on the wall and realize it’s well past midnight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby daddy. I love you so much,” you kiss him once more.

“I actually have a small surprise for you,” you whisper into his mouth.

“What’s that, pretty girl?” He looks at you expectantly.

You pull your tank top over your head with one hand, so the other can still cover up your tattoo. Slowly, you move your hand away to finally show off the ‘13.’

“Holy shit. No way, babe. That’s hot,” Mat gasps, reaching out to touch it.

“Just for you, baby,” you softly whimper, your skin still sore from the incessant needle.

He looks at you with such tender love and feral, sexual desire. You can feel the tension fill the room again, your cunt begging for him and his cock straining against his basketball shorts. You’re both in for a long night.

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies! I hope you know you’re loved so much🫶 I hope you all enjoy!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fluff #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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qc-wiggles · 7 months

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they say write what you know and what i know is academic stress and yearbook pain. so anyways it's a yearbook club au!!!!

YEARBOOK CLUB MEMBERS:

supervising teachers: gertrude and leitner. they become uncontactable like a week into the project (do they die? do they resign? tim has a running theory that they eloped.)

elias: head of yearbook club. dips unexpectedly in the middle of the entire thing (something about an optical surgery) and forces jon to take over. his dad paid for the adobe subscription they’re using

rosie: treasurer, she’s very efficient, they’ve probably exchanged like 3 emails in total and she’s gotten everything funded. knows well enough to stay out of the dumpster fire that is yearbook production otherwise

jon: de facto head of yearbook club. thinks it should have gone to sasha instead. hes a bit incompetent but plans like it’s doomsday the next week so they are always in a wealth of excel sheets. writer, editor

tim: joined partly because he wanted an excuse to get out of football fixtures. also because he is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked him. he has a tiktok. marketing, editor

sasha: joined partly to impress gertrude (she’s looking for her to write her letter of recommendation as head girl in sixth form). also because she is 1 out of jons 3 friends including his ex and jon asked her. she still uses livejournal. designer, writer

gerry: sixth form, occasionally helps out with networking at gertrude’s behest. tim is a bit starstruck over him. he saves their asses many, many times

melanie and georgie: got unofficially roped in as photographers. why you ask? manuela dominguez may have the cutting edge cameras but she is simply too scary to approach. melanie has a youtube channel that all the girls and tim are apparently subscribed to.

martin: there is not one single picture of him. apparently he didn’t turn up for photo day, neither was he involved in any school events. even the people who have shared half-remembered facts about him seem to forget about him when questioned a second time. where did he go?

PLOT:

it’s the month before the yearbook is due to be sent in for production, and the team have discovered numerous issues with the draft: pictures of random people keep getting swapped over like they’ve been photoshopped, some pages are illegible and distorted unless they are physically written out in hand and scanned, one paragraph is a leitner. and nobody can find martin blackwood so they can get his picture in the yearbook. what will they do.

SIDE CHARACTERS:

annabelle cane: current head girl

mikaele salesa: somehow knows literally everyone, involved in the funding of yearbook production

mike crew: uneasy alliance with gerry in their pursuit of jurgen leitner

oliver banks: had a mental breakdown sometime during his gcses but hes fine now

david from research: nobody says it to his face but he has genuinely the most atrocious clothing choice in the entire school apart from michael shelley, and even then michael shelley makes work

grifter’s bone: the band of the school, except no one actually knows anyone who’s part of it. their shows are legendarily terrible. manuela says ambulances were phoned.

daisy and basira: prefects, currently invested in making sure yearbook club remains LEGAL and not STALKING ANY STAFF OR STUDENTS, JON

jmag: principal. boo. what a creep

julia montauk: apparently her dad went to jail. but who is she living with now? i don’t know, manuela told me. how does manuela know? julia told her in a sleepover during year 6. and she’s telling other people? wow. that’s messed up. is that old guy her grandpa? why does he carry a rifle around

jared hopworth: prejudiced gymbro, but importantly, NOT a homophobe.

the admiral: what else needs to be said

FAMOUS ALUMNI:

agnes montague (campus celebrity from literally decades ago) (her relationship with jack barnabas is mythicised)

jude perry (allegedly caused some fire-related, agnes-related events)

edwin burroughs (allegedly commited atrocities during one year’s christmas dinner)

jane prentiss (left for uni a year ago, allegedly brought many live organisms onto campus) (keeps talking about this guy called jordan)

eric delano (he did WHAT to his eyes)

MISCELLANEOUS POINTS:

daedalus crew is astronomy club

breekon and hope are the manufacturers for much of the schools equipment and stationery

jon keeps finding notes from gertrude stashed in random places about yearbook difficulties its like a fun cool treasure hunt

they cant figure out where a computer they were initially using for yearbook club is from. it says ‘ushanka’ on the bottom of the display and the keys are slightly crusty

what the hell are the drama students actually up to

#changing this later probably #talks #school au

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bloodynereid · 21 days

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Burnt Longing

part 4 of Those Sunlit Kisses! you can find part 1 here, part 2 here and part 3 here.

pairing: robert 'rosie' rosenthal x fem! oc (lucy everett)

warnings: assumed death, really bad coping mechanisms, crying, mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of smoking, angst with a happy ending

description: lucy gets a call.

a/n: i made the mistake of listening to sufjan stevens while writing this and nearly ended up sobbing like a small child so that was fun. anyways hope you enjoy the last part before the epilogue! i had so much fun writing this series (not really this last part but yk). also pls make sure to read the previous parts or else you will be VERY confused. OH and this isn't about the real people just the characters portrayed on screen!

Lucy felt herself float off again, the words in front of her were becoming blurry as tears started to pool in the edges of her eyes. She bit her lip, hard, in an effort to make them go away and tried to refocus.

The smell of coffee, ink and paper surrounded her at the desk she shared with Martin, one of the older correspondents who more or less hated her. It was a small mercy that he was off on assignment that afternoon; he wouldn’t be there to witness her complete breakdown.

She hadn’t cried since she got the news, instead she threw herself into writing and now it seemed like her body was done fighting the battle against grief as tears fell down her cheeks.

Lucy thought back to the horrifying phone call she had gotten in the middle of the night about a week ago, maybe longer. God, time was starting to blur.

The loud ringing of her phone pulled her out of a deep slumber, making Lucy stumble around until she finally lit the hallway light and got to the living room just in time to pick up the phone before the last ring.

“Hello?” She asked groggily, coughing slightly trying to clear her throat that was clearly thick with sleep.

“Lucy?” She perked up at the familiar sound of Harry’s voice.

“Yeah? Is everything alright, Harry? Is this about the travel arrangements for next week be-”

“It’s Rosie.”

The tone in his voice made an ice cold chill run down the length of Lucy’s spine. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, to do something but she stood frozen as Harry’s voice sounded more and more muffled. The ringing in her ears intensified as she uttered some words in response to one of Harry’s questions and then clicked the phone back into the receiver.

She felt like a ghost from that moment on as she got back into bed and didn’t move until the sun started to shine through her window.

Sleep had evaded her grasp for the days after, the only thing that seemed to get her to finally rest was quite a few glasses of rather strong scotch.

Lucy wasn’t really sure she was actually at work at that moment. She was aware that she had written and delivered two articles in the past few days which according to her editor were some of her best work yet but she didn’t feel real.

There was a cold feeling encasing her body like a shroud, that knowing that she would most probably never see her darling Rosie again was chipping away at her soul.

Lucy knew she wasn’t the best at coping with grief, and there was a large possibility that Rosie was still alive. He had promised to come back to her after all, but she could never be sure. Not until she heard his voice, saw his ocean blue eyes and ran her hands through his curls.

She couldn’t believe that it was a month ago when she last saw him. When she last kissed him. When they last hugged. When- Lucy muffled a sob with the palm of her hand as she blurrily looked around the newsroom.

The feeling of complete desperation hadn’t gone away since she had heard those horrible words. Lucy had done what she had always done and threw herself into work but it felt different this time. It was like her other half was just gone. Void.

Lucy wiped off the tears that started to fall from her eyes and looked at the hand written pages of notes in front of her. A brief exhale later she started to gather them together into one not very neat pile and shoved them into a folder.

She then briskly walked over to Johnson’s office, watching as her editor typed away at his typewriter - probably writing an angry letter to the promotional people that came in that morning. He still hadn’t gotten another assistant and now had to deal with typing things out himself.

“Hey. Is it alright if I leave a little early today? It’s rather slow today.” Lucy said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She could already feel the tears starting to pool in her eyes once again.

“Of course, Everett. Uh- are you alright?” Johnson said as he looked up for a moment and grimaced slightly.

“Oh yes. Of course. Just tired.”

“Right. Will you be alright by tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir. It’s nothing a good night’s sleep can’t fix.” Lucy knew that the only thing that could mend her broken heart at that moment was the news that Rosie was alive but her editor didn’t need to know that. Not when he literally fired his last assistant for just messing up his coffee order.

“Wonderful. See you tomorrow then, Everett. Good job this past week.”

“I try, sir. Thank you.” Lucy tried to smile slightly as Johnson looked at her for a moment before nodding and going back to angrily typing out something.

The streets of London were crowded and Lucy desperately tried to keep things together for just another fifteen minutes until she reached her flat. She kept getting jostled by passing strangers and annoyed mothers.

The only time she took a moment to stop and breathe was when she saw one of the many wreckages that the German bombs had caused. She thought she was desensitized to it all by now but it still made her heart ache whenever she saw the ruins of lives that could have been.

Rosie was one of the reasons why more German bombs weren’t dropped and Lucy just kept getting reminded of the man she so desperately loved. The world just wasn’t fair. It was like she saw his ghost everywhere.

Cold bed sheets welcomed her in when she finally collapsed into bed. The open bottle of scotch that sat on the bedside table burned her throat as she took a gulp of the burning liquid.

Lucy also went to grab the pack of cigarettes she had swiped from Martin’s side of the desk that morning. She hadn’t smoked in a while and she knew that if Rosie saw her right now he would be disappointed. But he wasn’t there and that was part of the problem.

So Lucy lit up a cigarette and sat cocooned in bed until several hours later the sound of the phone ringing filtered through the flat. She laid still as it seemed to get louder and louder, taking drags of the stolen cigarette until the phone stopped ringing.

The last time she had answered that damned thing, her entire world had stopped. Her irrational mind supplied her with the tortuous idea that the call would be to inform her this time that Rosie was no longer M.I.A. instead that he was K.I.A.

The phone rang again. And again. And again. Until Lucy had no other choice than to angrily stub out the end of the cigarette and walk over to the living room. Where with trembling hands she picked up the receiver and pressed the cool plastic to her ear.

“Lucille Everett speaking.” She answered cooly, clutching the cord with such intensity she could almost feel it penetrating her hand.

“Lucy? Darling? Are you there?” Lucy’s heart stopped for a moment and then restarted when she heard Rosie’s voice through the receiver. This couldn’t be real. She had to be dreaming. A strangled breath fought its way out of her throat as she dropped the phone back to the receiver.

A moment later the phone rang, and Lucy bit her lip as she traced the black cord. Her heart was thumping and she couldn’t believe that this was happening. She gingerly picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Rosie? Rosie? Are you real? Are you alive?” She whispered, not allowing herself to hope too much. This might just be some scotch induced delusion after all.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m okay, I’m here. A little banged up but I’m alive.” Lucy let out a relieved sob and collapsed onto the couch cushions.

“I thought- you promised you would make it back to me.”

“I did and I have. I would never leave you by choice, Lucy.” Lucy felt herself smiling slightly at Rosie’s familiar American accent. The fog slowly began to lift from her brain and she let herself to giggle slightly. Probably sounding completely insane but who cared? Her Rosie was alive.

“God. Rosie. I love you.”

“I love you too, so much.”

“Never do that to me again, you hear me Robert Rosenthal? I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“I swear on the love I have for you, darling. I’m here, alright? I’m going to be here for the rest of our days.”

“I sure hope so because I’d rather not be marrying a ghost.” Lucy said as happy tears rolled down her cheeks, her laughter sounded foreign to her ears. It was a sound she hadn’t thought she would make again.

“I promise that when this is all over I will get that ring to you.”

“You better, my love.”

“Lucy! Lucy! There’s a call for you.” Lucy turned around from the celebrations and looked as Margaret passed her pointed at the phone hanging off the wall.

“Thanks. Can you hold my glass?” Margaret nodded as Lucy passed her the champagne glass she had been sipping prosecco out of. She could hardly believe that it was the end of the bloody war! When Churchill had announced it on the radio it felt like the weight of the world suddenly disappeared from her shoulders.

“Hello? Lucille Everett speaking.” Lucy said as she pressed the familiar weight of the phone to her ear.

“Lucy! Darling! Let’s get married.” Rosie said, clearly laughing - making Lucy's already joyful heart burst.

“I thought we were already doing that!”

“Yes, well…”

“Rosie. I want to marry you but you said you wanted me to meet your mother first, hmm?”

“Alright but we get married right after! And I just know she’s going to love you.”

“Well we have all the time in the world now, darling.”

“Yes, we do. Are you coming up here soon? I haven’t seen you in too damn long.”

“What have you been drinking, Major?”

“Lucy…”

“Alright! I’ll stop teasing. I’ll be there when Harry can find me a place to stay.”

“Croz!” Lucy pulled the phone away from her ear and shook her head at Rosie’s antics. She pressed it back and heard some muffled talking before a loud indignant yelp was heard.

“Hello Rosie’s sweetheart! I’m Bucky.” Lucy let out a laugh as she heard the voice of the man Rosie so admired.

“Hello there.”

“Oh she’s British! Why didn’t you tell us, Ro- hey!”

“Sorry about that, darling. He arrived last month and has only been causing too much trouble.”

“It’s alright, Rosie.” Lucy said with a laugh, “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course. I cannot wait to marry you.”

“That makes two of us, I love you.”

“I love you more.” Lucy heard as various other men’s voices chimed in with ridiculous imitations of Rosie’s accent before the line clicked.

The world was suddenly theirs again and Lucy couldn’t wait for the rest of her life. A life she would share with Rosie.

i'm sorry??

taglist: @justheretoreadthxxs @callumsgirl

#rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #masters of the air #mota #mota spoilers #mota fanfic #mota oc #masters of the air oc #masters of the air x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie x oc #robert rosenthal x oc #my ocs <3 #harry crosby #nate mann #maria writes

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f1uckinghell · 5 months

Text

lots of stuff sucks atm, and I am trying to make christmas nicer for myself, so have this unashamedly self-indulgent, happy, joyful snippet. And feel free to send asks if you want. I’ll try to write some more prompt fills over the next few days as well.

_____

"Who was your first kiss?" Charles leaned back with a vixen-like smile, stirring his cocktail with a languid motion, "Come on, you can tell us now. We already know all your other secrets."

Lando felt his cheeks grow hot. "No, it's too embarrassing!" It really wasn't that bad if he was quite honest, but he just liked to put on a show for the attention.

"Aww come on, Lando!" Max's cheeks had a healthy flush, but his was caused by having half a gin and tonic. Lando giggled and hid his face in his hands until Max touched his arm with a laugh.

"What if we go first?" he suggested, and that did in fact pique Lando's attention.

"...maybe."

Charles huffed out an easy laugh. "You go first, Max."

„You already know who it was,“ Max said, giving Charles a grin. Charles narrowed his eyes at him. „Not me!“ he huffed, feigning offense.

„No, not you,“ Max agreed, „Although we can pretend it was you.“

„Who was it, then?“ Lando asked, curiously wiggling in his seat.

„Martin, my friend,“ Max said, „My neighbor from when my parents still lived together.“ Max paused dramatically, then added, „In middle school.“

It wasn’t even that funny, but they just burst out laughing anyway. „That does NOT count!“ Lando exclaimed, „You were literally a baby.“

Max was laughing into his cocktail, cheeks even more rosy than before now. Charles clicked his tongue. „Took you long enough after that to figure out you’re not as straight as your Dad wanted you to be.“

Max snorted, „Yeah, took me exactly until you had your hands on my tits for the first time.“ Charles gave him a smirk and reach out to cup Max’s chest, balancing his glass with the other hand, then leaned over to kiss him. Lando watched the wet, messy slide of their tongues against each other for a moment, before giving a needy little whine- no chance they were allowed to forget about him now.

Charles pulled back, but not without giving a sultry purr by Max’s ear. „Mine was Pierre,“ he announced, crossing his legs and hooking one of his ankle around Lando’s pulling him closer somehow.

„That’s so boring!“ Lando complained, followed by a little „Hey!“ when Charles used that same ankle to kick him lightly.

„It’s not boring, it’s romantic!“ Max objected.

„It wasn’t that romantic,“ Charles inclined his head, „We were like… thirteen maybe, and wanted to know what kissing felt like. So I kissed him, and then ran away.“

Lando and Max both aww’ed; the idea of Charles being so shy was almost absurd now.

„I can say he’s gotten a lot better at it since,“ Charles smirked, taking a sip of his cocktail.

„I sure hope so,“ Max snorted.

„Your turn now, Lando.“ Charles turned his gaze on Lando, eyes raking over his face.

Lando sighed dramatically, crossing his arms for show. „It’s boring.“

„The more you try not to say it, the more curious he will poke you for it,“ Max said, nodding towards Charles who sat there, watching Lando with an impish grin.

Lando chewed on his bottom lip for a second. „…it was a guy from school I liked. He was like… the hottest guy in school, and everyone liked him, and I guess he was kind of into me… he asked me if he could be my boyfriend, and we kissed under the bleachers.“

Charles groaned. „Your life is literally a teen movie.“

Lando let out a dismissive noise. „I realized really quickly that I didn’t like him enough for kissing, so I broke up with him I guess. He texted me for three months after, and even wrote me love letters, put them into my locker an’ all.“ He clicked his tongue dismissively. „Pretty annoying.“

Max and Charles exchanged an incredulous glance. „Our hot little girlie next door heartbreaker,“ Charles commented, leaning back on the sofa.

„I don’t think it was thaaat bad,“ Lando objected, making a face, which prompted Max and Charles to exchange another Look.

„Not much has changed since then,“ Max said with an idle laugh.

#virtues verse #smut tag #fluff tag #pack tag #vv!omegas #listen i know this isnt canon compliant don’t come at me for it pls #vv!lando #vv!max #vv!charles

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somanyfuckedupiftruebooks · 1 year

Text

Mag 37

So the tapes have caught bits and pieces of pertinent conversation before, but it has always been in the process of recording a statement. This is the first time that Jon feels compelled to record information that is not a statement, just in case. It's not a coincidence that this happens immediately after he gets the Web lighter.

Also it's extremely funny how done with this Martin sounds from his first word. How may times has Jon forced him to go through the same sparse details?

I've said it before but it's great that Breekon and Hope just look like delivery men. No notable features, just big, wearing delivery uniforms and speaking in fake accents. Sounds legit to me.

Yes, but consider this: what if you got into the business of destroying knowledge. Maybe that would be a good career move for you.

What is Elias playing at, prompting Jon to destroy the table? If the NotThem gets Jon he'll have to replace the Archivist and restart his ritual prep, so why take such a risky move to try and secure a Stranger mark? Why bother going for a Stranger mark in the first place, if he intends to throw Jon into the Unknowing soon enough anyway? Maybe he (incorrectly) assumes that Jon would have one of his assistants destroy the table instead of going all 'extended sounds of brutal pipe murder' on it himself. Maybe it's a test of some kind?

Or maybe I'm overthinking it and Elias just gets off on watching Jon fuck around and find out.

First time Martin expresses care/concern for Jon <3 They've definitely been spending more time together off-tape. They've got to be basically roomates at this point.

Also the prompt of 'go to sleep dumbass' help us place this in time. I definitely think this statement takes place immediately following the last (instead of with the normal week long gap). Jon ended that statement running off to talk to Martin and starts this one obviously having been speaking to him for some time. In the gap between tapes he has also interrogated Rosie, spoken with Elias and presumably been to see the table in Artefact Storage himself. I think it's safe to say that during the interim everyone else has gone home for the night and Martin and Jon are now alone in the Archives after hours again.

If I'm right about that timing it means that this is the first time we know of that Jon has read two statements in one day (depending on how canon you consider the liveshow to be, and whether or not it 'counts' if Jon reads a genuine statement off-tape as he does in that show). We know the statements can take a lot out of him, so that's got to be contributing to his general state of exhaustion.

Also I've dragged Jon before for recording statements onto tapes that are already running, but in all seriousness I think that at this point the Eye won't allow him to turn off a tape recorder for good without feeding it. Once a tape recorder is playing, it must receive a statement, no matter how confusing it will be for any students or academics using the tapes for research.

I wonder what kind of reputation the Magnus Institute has in the wider world? We know it's generally a bad one, but also we see so many statement-givers coming to the Institute for help. Is that motivated purely by desperation, or is there an idea in the general public consciousness that if you are having a supernatural problem of some sort that TMI can help? We know that the Institute only exists to observe and record and helping people is not on their agenda, but we do have confirmation of instances where they have helped the general public. I am thinking of Piecemeal, where Lee Rentoul talks about how they helped a friend of his who thought he was being haunted realise that he wasn't. Maybe the Institute only helps in cases that have no connection to the Entities? That probably makes the most sense.

Very cool how this statement starts out as if it could be Lonely before taking a sharp turn into Desolation territory. It's not about how alone he is, it's about how much he has to lose.

I can't remember, is this the place where Agnes was born? I know this is the site of Gertrude's binding spell, but did she find the site of Agnes's birth to do this? That would make sense and explain the altar stone in the centre. But I am a bit confused by the trees. They were deliberately planted 50 years ago? The binding would have happened around 12 years ago, so Gertrude didn't do that. It also would have been before she was Archivist? I have no idea when Agnes was born (I have a terrible head for dates) but wasn't it during a forest fire that would have decimated this entire area? I can't imagine that those Lightless Flame freaks were planting new trees afterward. Maybe they just grew on their own because of spooky reasons.

So I happen to be in the car with my parents (two retired nurses) as I'm typing this and asked them what would realistically happen to a guy who drank boiling water. They both absolutely fucking lost it.

Mum: Severe burns all over his mouth and throat! He'd be in absolute agony.

Dad: Not his throat, you'd never swallow.

Me: It doesn't say if he swallowed or not.

Dad: You couldn't. Not in that amount of pain.

Mum: Only if it was literally forced down him.

Me: So you'd need to be hospitalised?

Both: YES.

Mum: Immediately! Your mouth would be absolutely ruined; you wouldn't be eating anything without medical intervention.

Dad: And if there was anything in his throat there's no treatment for internal burns like that. They'd just have to give him antibiotics and hope.

Mum: But he wouldn't have swallowed boiling water, that would be insane. It would just be his mouth.

Me: This says he just lay down for about half an hour to get over the pain, then he sort of just kept going like normal.

Both: Not a chance.

#reeah reacts to tma #mag 37 #a mag a day #the desolation #agnes montague #gertrude robinson

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phantomrose96 · 2 years

Note

How did you feel about the tma finale? I thought it was fine but after all of Jonny's warnings that "it will be sooo tragic don't get your hopes up" I was kind of disappointed by how mild it was. Nothing against a hopeful finale but it felt a little bit like it fizzled out. Any thoughts as a Tragedy Enjoyer (tm)?

You know I'm just theorizing, but as someone who has only a fraction of a fraction of the audience TMA has and is a Tragedy Writer, I've seen how a portion of an audience can get really intense and antsy about "if this has a sad ending I can't take it." My impression is the TMA audience was both large and had a lot of interaction with the writers so like, I'll bet Jonny heard that kind of thing hundreds of times. I could easily see that becoming like "the safety of my mental health is your responsibility" kind of message from a lot of people, which could really push someone to err on the side of over-warning about the ending.

My overall thoughts on s5 are... hard to pin down? I do think it's my least favorite season, but not because of any quality drop but because I just kind of didn't love the structure of it, I think. The sort of linear "we're questing to London" structure... I dunno.

A number of the stand-alone horror statements were some of the strongest in the whole series, I think! Rosie's statement about working for Elias all these years and Knowing something was wrong but just remaining complicit--excellent, loved that one. Jared Boneturner's one about twisting people's body dysmorphia against them with flower metaphors really hit. The meat processing plant one with the years worth of lines. The hospital that would try to make you better or worse on a whim each day. And I loved the reveal about The Spider pulling the strings all along. I was totally fooled thinking the tape recorders were just The Eye's way of snooping, but the fact that they were The Spider's web all along *chef's kiss*.

Oh also I loved that Jon could smite people. Good for him.

But it's. hmmm. It reminds me a little bit of a problem with later-season Supernatural, where they'd killed off near the entire recurring cast save for like 4 people. Just steadily lost people to be invested in. Sasha's dead. Tim's dead. Daisy's dead. Bigger antagonists like Peter are dead. Eliajonah spent 90% of the season in the gay baby panopticon (and killing him happened... kinda way too fast and short for me? Jonah was really the main antagonist and planned this for 2 centuries and puppeted Jon into becoming The Beholding's Special Little Boy but he didn't have a countermeasure for Being Beholded by said Special Boy?) Helen was fun but then Jon killed her! :< Georgie and Melanie were gone for most of the season too. Basira was the only kinda-regularly-present central character. And you know it's always kinda been The Jon Show, but there was a little more fun in that when Jon was being a stuck-up curmudgeon. He's... understandably... a bit more of a downer in s5. (Also found myself liking Martin a little less this season, but can't pin down why exactly.) Oh and, VERY much just a personal thing: but the way Jon would need to compulsively make statements just sat uncomfortably with me. Basira was joking about the bathroom metaphor but it really was like that.

Also THIS part is inevitable and there would be literally no way to avoid this - so much of TMA was built up as a mystery and now that we have most of the answers in s5 there's just. less to be intrigued about. We have most of the puzzle pieces so there's not much left to theorize about. And besides The Spider reveal, there wasn't really anything in s5 that was able to surprise me. The ending felt very straight-forward. And I figured from just about the beginning of the series Jon wasn't gonna survive to the end so that didn't surprise me. I was kinda thinking it might do one of those "we take the 3rd option!" things where they neither follow The Spider's plan nor Jon's plan but.

Anyway! I relistened to Angler Fish yesterday and it DOES hit much harder with retrospect

#chrissy listens to tma #ask #tma spoilers

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rosileeduckie · 2 years

Text

Haunted Safehouse

Yes, I’m aware my house is haunted; this ghost, I did consent to rooming with.

Jon and Martin have a discussion about costumes. Projecting only a little how excited I am getting dressed up for the occasion. 😋 Happy Halloween! 🧡🎃

SFW. Potential warnings: none. TMA JonMartin tickle fic.

Word count: 1,942

~*~

“I’m just saying, it’d be a brilliant costume. Especially since I wouldn’t need to go buy a lot; could just wear what I usually do. What do you think, Jon?”

Jon would have replied, but he found it necessary to dedicate the entirety of his focus to the fitted sheet in his hands, which was being very stubborn against his efforts to capture the corner of the mattress with it.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon replied, not looking up from the fabric he was wrestling with.

He heard a chuckle, and then, in the next moment, Jon found himself nearly falling forward onto the bed when Martin yanked hard on the end of the sheet opposite to the one Jon’s hands were white-knuckling. The archivist caught himself, only to feel his stomach drop and his heart leap into his throat when he looked up to find Martin smirking down at him. “I was asking what you thought of me dressing as a tickle monster for Halloween,” Martin clarified, as though Jon hadn’t heard him the first time and wasn’t just trying to keep his face from catching fire.

“Uh-huh,” Jon said, clearing his throat and standing, smoothing out his jumper and the fitted sheet that suddenly wrapped snugly on all four mattress corners. “Well.” He went around the bed to the pile of somewhat-folded bedding that lay at the foot, gathering the top sheet into his arms to give himself something new to grip when he puckishly replied, “It sounds to me like you just don’t want to come up with a real costume.”

Still smiling, Martin narrowed his eyes, moving slowly to where Jon stood at the end of the bed. “I think it’s creative, actually,” he reasoned. “Simple, but smart, and effective for all those who get it.”

“‘All,’” Jon echoed with a roll of his eyes as though that gesturing was louder than the flush of his cheeks.

“Even if it’s just you,” Martin allowed with a sigh and a happy shrug. He picked through the sheet in Jon’s arms, looking for an end to take hold of and assist with, his lips widening into a grin as he did so. “Will have to try the costume out before Halloween, of course. See what you think before the day of. Though I have an idea already of how you’ll like it.”

The sparkle of mischief in Martin’s gaze that was so fondly and evilly fixed on Jon was too flustering for the poor archivist. He didn’t have to Know Martin’s thoughts to know exactly how his teasing costume would be broken in, but Jon, too, had an idea of what that process may entail, and he couldn’t bear the thought of it, nor the fact that it wasn’t happening at present. A hopelessly happy smile longed to spread across his face, and Jon bit his lip, knowing Martin would only tease him more for it. A minute ago, Jon had nearly burrowed into the top sheet in his arms, but, now, he implemented the defense another way, throwing the fabric up and over Martin’s head. “There. A ghost. Simple, but classic,” Jon said with a huff, praying the sheet was just thick enough that Martin couldn’t see through it to see how Jon was unable to curb the giddy smile at the thought of having his own personal tickle monster for Halloween. The novelty and silliness of it all was too sweet. “If you’re going to half-ass costumes this year anyway,” he tacked on, hoping to sound less excited and more of his usual calm and grumbling style. That effort was as fruitless as biting down his smile, which he didn’t know if Martin could see, but Jon knew he could hear Martin giggling beneath his shroud, and the archivist couldn’t help the soft smile that warmed his cheeks at the sound.

“I’m genuinely curious,” said Martin. “Is it less flustering when you can’t see me?”

And Jon could hear the grin in Martin’s words. His smile went wobbly and his cheeks went rosy at the familiarly teasing lilt to Martin’s voice, and the sensitive nerves under his arms and in his chest and behind his knees tingled in anticipation. Jon scoffed, glad Martin couldn’t see him pouting either. “No,” he admitted, reaching up to pull the sheet off Martin’s head.

The avatar of the all-seeing Eye realized several things simultaneously, and all of them too late. Firstly, his lifting of his own arms offered the perfect unintentionally opening for a very impish Martin to attack. If Martin were still in front of him. Because, secondly, Jon realized that there was no one under the sheet. It was like a middle school or social media magic trick, except Jon was never one for magic, and he certainly hadn’t conjured any hocus pocus to make his partner vanish. Thirdly, he realized Martin hadn’t vanished. Exactly. He’d teleported, in his invisible Lonely way, right behind Jon. And from where he stood just behind Jon, Martin took good advantage of Jon’s elevated arms, striking under them with wiggling fingers.

Dropping the sheet with a yelp, Jon’s arms crashed down against his sides, effectively trapping Martin’s hands in the archivist’s armpits. The rest of Jon crashed as well, prompting him to stumble back against Martin’s chest as laughter burst from his own lungs. “Martin!”

Martin withdrew his hands from Jon’s armpits, drawing him in for a hug that allowed him to hold Jon close whilst scribbling his fingers into the archivist’s belly. “Maybe I could be the ghost of a tickle monster,” he mused as though his boyfriend wasn’t cackling in his arms. “Seems I’ve already got the characteristics for both down pat, don’t you think?”

Jon was sure his being adamant in not answering Martin’s earlier question was the reason Martin now was tickling him too hard to let him even think about forming a response. When his fingers drifted to Jon’s hips and the poor chortling man’s knees buckled, Martin did pull back, just embracing Jon from behind until he could stand again and his breathing had slowed, even if the dizzy smile he wore was still beautifully present.

The mischief was far from over, it seemed, as Martin leaned in to chuckle into Jon’s ear. “Remind me again, Jon,” he said, the brush of his lips against Jon’s ear making him shiver, and the sudden vanishing of his arms around Jon making the archivist gulp. “Is it less flustering when you can’t see me?”

It took a brief glance for Jon to realize he was the only visible occupant in the room, and the unknown but inevitable promise of Martin’s next attack had butterflies winging in his stomach. “If you expect me to finish this bed by myself—” Jon said, trying hopelessly to sound stern despite his eager grin.

“Oh, I wouldn’t recommend staying in one place,” Martin teased, his voice fading in and out, louder and softer, as he presumably moved around Jon to keep his hackles raised. “Tickle monsters belong to the Hunt, you know.”

The words had hardly left Martin’s invisible lips before Jon had dashed out the door. He hardly had an avatar tailing him that wasn’t out for his blood or general destruction, so it was something of a relief to be able to run and know he was still safe. Fun. His heart pounded in his ears and his cheeks ached from the grin he wore. The corridor ended all too soon, and Jon screeched to a halt in the living room. Curse their flat for being so small. He couldn’t run far, and his options for hiding were scant. Subconsciously, Jon could feel Martin’s mind as it flitted and faded in and out around him, sashaying in close before darting away, keeping Jon from getting a grasp on his location. Curse the Lonely for having such helpful power. Curse the Eye for having no physical power to help Jon now. Having no course of action before him, Jon swiftly turned around, hoping against hope he could beat Martin to a room with a lock and that the Lonely would be too polite to warp inside. He felt Martin’s mind go amusedly blank in surprise, which was satisfying both for the expression Jon imagined on Martin’s face and for the fact that the archivist could See clearly now that Martin was at his back. With the tiny advantage he had, Jon ran.

Only to slam straight into Martin’s chest upon rounding the corner to duck back into the bedroom.

“Ah—!” Jon gasped, Martin’s thumbs catching the belt loops of his jeans before he could try to flee once more. “You— you knew where I’d go.” Jon definitely wasn’t pouting again.

“You Knew where I was going,” Martin replied, only a little accusatory.

“Thought we were going all out with cheating and powers,” Jon huffed, half crossing his arms and half shielding as many tickle spots as he could.

Martin chuckled, pressing a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “Would you like to know where I’m going to go, Jon?”

“No.”

“You sure? You’re welcome to, if you like.”

Jon couldn’t resist. Martin’s lips still rested on his forehead; it was as familiar and easy an invitation to follow as anything. The softness of that kiss juxtaposed harshly against the images he saw in Martin’s imagination—of Jon, breathless and howling, as Martin pinned him to the unmade bed and tickled him until there were stars outside the window to see—and Jon buried his face in Martin’s sweater. “Fuck.”

“Albeit,” said Martin, easily lifting Jon up to carry him to bed, the archivist naturally melting into the hold like a koala, seated at Martin’s waist with his arms around Martin’s neck, face still hidden, “I could be nice if there’s somewhere you’d rather I go.”

“To the store to get a real costume,” Jon replied, hoping the fabric of his new sweater mask didn’t dull the sarcasm in his words. It certainly didn’t muffle his squeak when Martin gave a chastising pinch to either of the backs of his thighs.

Martin lay Jon on the bed, quick to squish him to the fitted sheet and pin his arms above his head. “Nice offer rescinded,” Martin smiled, shaking his head. “The nicest I’ll be now is that I didn’t make you wait for this. Not to mention, waiting until after we got the bed made; we’d have to redo it all with how much you squirm.”

Jon gave a laugh at that, and more laughter easily followed when one of Martin’s hands danced its fingers down his outstretched arm and into the exposed hollow of his underarm. He did kick, he wiggled and giggled like the devil, but all the fight had gone out of Jon after being caught. It had been fun to be chased, but now he could revel in being happy, being seen, being loved. There was something unbearably lovely about it. Aside from the obvious fact that laughter had prompted his eyes to squeeze shut, he couldn’t See through this. Couldn’t See when all he could do was feel, couldn’t Know when all he could do was laugh. The hunt, he could steady his nerves enough during to Look, but now with his nerves alight like firecrackers, his head wasn’t straight enough to recall his own name, let alone Know where Martin was going to target next. Fun as the hunt had been, all anticipation and pitting their powers against one another, this—being tickled silly by his partner, when it was just human, warm, safe, and soft—he liked even better.

#tickling #tkl #tickle fic #fluff #ro writes #writing #tma tickles #jonmartin #the archivist #martin blackwood #ticklish!jon #tickle fiction #tickle fanfiction #tickling.#tickling in october but not exactly ya know

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blair-the-juggalho · 1 year

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The Ericson gang x reader with autism and anxiety

Hello! I just wanted to say that I have no idea how to write for autism and I’m very worried about portraying it in the wrong light! However I’m totally ok with writing about anxiety so I’ll just do that it’s that’s ok! <3

Hey I only realised I didn’t do Louis! I’ve added him now but I’m very sorry!

TWDG Ericsson’s Gang x a reader who has anxiety

Violet

She understands your anxiety and will always help in any ways she can!

She loves you alot and will try to help ground you if your having a panic attack!

She’s helped Brody a few times when she’s panic attacks my girl is a wee bit experienced

She instantly learns what helps you out the most and what makes you stressed

So she will always look out for you!

Mitch

This man will beat up anyone who stress you out (possibly much to your disliking)

But this man wants to protect you from the whole world

He knows that your not a child and you can take care of yourself

But this is one over protective mf

He’s your body guard fr!

He wants you to feel safe with him! <3

However he’s rather bad and comforting but he’s trying his best!

Marlon

The things this man would do for you frfr

Like I’ve said in my others headcanons if someone upsets you they somehow end up with night watch for a month🤔

He tries to make the office one of your safe spaces

And depending on if you like dogs or not he’d either summon Rosie in to help you or actually kick her out the room for a bit 😦

He wants to help you in anyway he can and he will take every one of your requests to heart!

That man loves you so much it’s insane

Louis

He doesn’t know what to do tbh

He’s low key a bit awkward

He will always give 110% when it comes to comforting you

But he doesn’t really have much experience

He tries to take your mid off it with his ridiculous jokes though

And he will also take you to the piano and play you a quiet melody to take your mind off anything that’s stressing you out <3

Aasim

He understands what your going through

He may not have anxiety but he will always be there to listen and comfort you

He may be awkward at first but this man learns quick! (That can be taken the wrong way and wether you do or not is up to you…)

Anyway! This man is always alert for anything that could possibly make you feel really awkward and even worse have a panic attack

He won’t baby you but he likes to get rid of as many of your stresses as possible <3

Omar

He doesn’t really know what to do tbh

But he’s always here to help you!

He can be a bit clumsy with it at times but he’s cute so you can forgive it X

If someone’s making you feel bad he will have a private word with them if you want!

But if you’d rather he’d not he’d respect your wishes!

This man will do anything for you!

Ruby

She doesn’t have anxiety in fact she’s really easy going!

But she will always try her best to help you in any way

She’ll get people to back off and bring you to a quiet safe place when you need it!

She learnt how to help people with anxiety through experiences and form miss Martin

She’s always there for you <:)

Brody

She understands your pain

She tries to give you the advice she’s been told and what she’s learnt helps ground her

She understands how you feel when it comes to panic attacks and such and is always there to help!

She’s very good at comforting people!

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg mitch #twdg x reader #twdg marlon #twdg omar #twdg ruby #twdg violet #the walking dead game #twdg aasim

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oaxleaf · 1 year

Text

mag 81 - a guest for mr. spider

a very consistent trait in jon is that he needs to feel like he's being treated with respect and dignity. in mag 193 (i think?) rosie very much notes his uptight nature and desire for being seen as proffesional. i think the way he describes himself as a child very much reflects that. how he despises any implications that he's not as smart or competent as adults around him. it's easy to dismiss children as being ridiculous, but people often forget that kids do have deeper inner lives and reasons and logic behind why they do and think what they do. yeah, it's often very flawed, but that's not an inherent stupidity but rather out of a lack of experience. i think kids that grow up as outsiders, kids who are traumatized, and kids who've always been told that they're 'mature' or 'old souls' or whatever especially go through this. which, well, these mostly fit in on jon

(can you tell that i relate to all of this lol?)

anyway. isn't it fucked up how jon mentions being an orphan once and it's never brought up again? like i said, i do definitely think it affected his personality, because kids that go through something traumatic like that (and let's not pretend it isn't traumatic. it might not be life-changing ptsd inducing or whatever, but it's still trauma) often end up socially awkward because they can't connect to kids their age but they have very little in common with adults regarding life experience. so i do think it had some major impacts on him, but jesus christ this guy is really fucked up and traumatized for it only to be mentioned once

oh, and georgie's her :) i love her and i really do think she deserves more attention. aside from her spat with jon at the end of s4, she's probably the most genuine relationship he has in his life, aside from martin. they knew each other before the supernatural bullshit really manifested in their lives and she's so quick to take him in and let him stay. i don't think many people would do that for an ex with whom you had a cannonically really bad breakup with several years ago. i'd love to just see more of her and know how she thinks about and views things

#i don't know if there's much sense to this beyond ramblings #but in my defense i am sick and in pain and my brain feels on the verge of implosion #and it might be covid so...#tma #a mag a day #mag 81

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winedad16 · 2 months

Text

13. Man's Best Friend

Masterlist

Warning(s): N/A

March 28th, 1945

36:00:00:00

When Freddy said that he had something to show him when he exited his office, Klaus had not expected to see the most literal, straight-on take of something he had offhandedly suggested one night about a week prior.

***

“We should look into getting dogs for the office.” Klaus had said after Martin pooled around his feet.

“Hm?” Freddy looked up from his newspaper.

“Shepards, specifically,” Klaus added as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. “They would be a fantastic addition to the office. The kids would love them.”

“Shepherds?” Freddy echoed, believing that his deaf ear was deceiving him.

Klaus nodded as Martin stared up at him with loving eyes.

***

“Finkel,” He sighed. “I meant we’d need dogs for when the city is attacked. Not actual German shepherds.”

The sub-officer's ears went pink.

“Get them out of here, please.”

A child shrieked behind him.

“Get them out!”

Embarrassed, Freddy escorted the shepherds, who had so kindly agreed to volunteer— Whether it was out of fear or not- Out of the office. He ushered out soft apologies to the men before turning back to Klaus, whose expression has softened a great deal in seconds.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” The captain said with a tinge of embarrassment.

“I feel so stupid, I—“

“No, no. It’s a silly name for a dog. I should have been clearer—“ He paused. “You’re doing a great job.”

With a straight back, Freddy thanked him. Unaware of Jojo’s presence in front of them, their eyes wandered to the other’s lips before meeting each other’s gaze. In a moment of stupidity, Klaus subconsciously leaned in before spotting the young boy.

“Hiya, kid!”

The captain didn’t miss how quickly Freddy dismissed himself to the other room but reoriented his focus back to Jojo. He showed the young boy some silly drawing he and Freddy had jokingly made before introducing the day’s task to him. When Jojo asked Klaus about the silly costume he and Ida had sloppily made, Klaus’ heart began to ache. One question, one that was always consistent in his mind- How could he have been so irresponsible? Before and after the incident. It was his job to make sure Jojo was safe from there on out, but how could he start? He watched as the young boy hobbled out of the office, making sure he made it down the front steps without tripping over his feet, before returning to his office, where he found Freddy. The sub-officer was running a hand over his face as he paced back and forth over the same six-foot perimeter in Klaus’ office.

“Klaus, I'm so sorry,” Freddy laughed. “I must have misheard you. You know how my hearing is.”

Klaus gently took one of Freddy’s hands in his, an action obscured by the office’s window sills.

“I shouldn’t have yelled. It wasn’t your fault. I'm sorry.”

Freddy squeezed Klaus’ hand with a nod.

“How is Jojo? Is he feeling well?”

“I believe so. He looks better.” He paused. “He could use more color in his face, though.”

“We’ll have to bring something over to Rosie. I’ve been due for a visit, anyways.”

“Ja. It wouldn’t hurt to.”

The sub-officer rubbed a small circle into Klaus’ hand, doing his best to silently comfort his partner as the telegraph machine next to them buzzed alive. Klaus quickly scooped the message that was printed underneath the machine, carefully reading over the morse code. Freddy felt a chill go up his spine when Klaus’ expression darkened.

“What–”

There was a loud, sporadic knock on the door, forcing the two men apart. It was clear that it was Fräulein Rahm before the two men heard her.

“Hauptmann! Hauptmann Klenzendorf! There’s a woman here wishing to speak with you!”

There was no time for Klaus to respond before she knocked again.

“Hauptmann!”

“Coming!”

Klaus shot Freddy an apologetic look before shuffling out of the office.

“Hauptmann, a woman is here to speak with you. She—“

“Yes, I know, Ida.”

A woman and one of the young girls from the Jugend stood together in the center of the hall, hand-in-hand. Klaus smiled at them and nodded to the girl.

“Hello, Hilde,” He turned to the older woman. “How may I help you today?”

“Good afternoon, Hauptmann Klenzendorf,” She extended her hand with a smile. “I’m Hilde’s mother, Frau Müller. She’s told me so many lovely things about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

With a handshake, “The pleasure is all mine.” He grinned. “What brings you here today?”

“Well, Hilde has been talking about the dog that you have at the office and said that the dog has been up for adoption for some time. We live on a small farm outside of town and could use a young dog’s help, so I was wondering if we’d be able to take him off of your hands. I don’t have much to offer you for him, but I can guarantee he'll go to a good home.”

This gave Klaus pause. He had entirely forgotten that he and Freddy had put up flyers the previous month, advertising Martin’s adoption to everyone in town.

“Am I mistaken?” Frau Müller asked.

“No,” Klaus shook his head. “You’re not. Let me go collect my sub-officer and I’ll be back.”

Turning on his heel, the captain returned to his office. His sudden presence made Freddy jump.

“Is everything alright?”

“Someone is here to adopt Martin.”

“ …Martin? ”

“Yes.”

Freddy slowly stood from his desk and put down his pen.

“Did you say yes?”

“I didn’t say yes exactly, but–” He sighed. “It’s Hilde’s mother.”

Freddy cocked a brow.

“And? Martin’s our dog.”

Klaus closed the office door, leaving it the slightest bit ajar.

“Hilde is a good girl, Freddy,” He replied. “I don’t want him to go, but…”

The captain trailed off as he contemplated the situation.

“I think that, in the long run, he may be better off with Hilde and her mother.”

Freddy wrung his hands together, trying his best to not directly acknowledge what Klaus was implying.

“Alright,” He straightened his back. “When do they want him?”

***

Only a few hours had passed since Frau Müller had inquired about adopting Martin when Freddy and Klaus found themselves back at home and on the floor, playing tug-of-war with the pup.

“Are you sure about this, Klaus?” Freddy softly asked. “I know how much he means to you.”

The captain shook his head as he let Martin win.

“I am. He’ll be taken care of there. A farm would be good for him. Big open fields, livestock to chase.” He scratched behind the dog’s ears. “He shouldn’t be confined to an apartment. We can’t guarantee him stability, anyways.” He sniffed. “It was a silly idea to keep him here in the first place.”

Freddy shook his head.

“It wasn’t. It was good to get him out of the cold.” He leaned over his legs to pet Martin, too. “We were lucky to have one another, us three.”

They sat in silence for some time, taking their time, and enjoying their last night with Martin. When the dog had found its way into their bedroom and onto Klaus’ bed to sleep, Freddy grabbed his partner’s hand.

“What did that telegraph say? The one from earlier.”

Klaus tensely laughed.

“It’s not necessarily good news, I suppose.” He sighed. “The Americans captured Wiesbaden this morning. I imagine that we don’t have long, ourselves.”

The sub-officer’s heart dropped.

“Well… I—“ He paused. “When do you think we’ll surrender?”

“Falkenheim or Germany?”

“Germany. The Führer can only hold onto the little power he has left for so long.”

“Possibly in a couple of months. At most, it would be October.” Klaus squeezed Freddy’s hand. “Wouldn’t that be a great birthday gift?”

“Ha.” Freddy stiffly laughed. “I hope it’s done before then.”

The captain kissed his partner’s cheek and whispered, “I pray for the day this is over.”

Next Part

#freddy finkel #captain klenzendorf #captain k #jojo rabbit #finkeldorf #samrockwell #alfie allen #ao3 #fan fiction #klenzendorf x finkel

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karuvapatta · 1 year

Text

Hey look, it’s another instalment of that Jon/Elias fic I never planned to write, because I want them to be soft and they just keep fighting.

Part 1 | Part 2

***

Jon cannot rest.

On his way home, he glances upwards, only to see the familiar grey eyes in the face of the woman opposite him. The train lurches; the woman blinks. Jon must have imagined it, because her eyes are dark, almost as dark as his own. And she notices him staring, because she stands up and moves further down the car, very blatantly avoiding Jon.

He cannot blame her.

Back in his flat, he drops his briefcase and collapses onto his own (much less comfortable) couch. He fixes himself a cup of tea that isn’t nearly as nice as the tea Martin makes for him. He stands up, and paces, and then sits back down again, only to bury his face in his hands.

There is a pile of old magazines on his coffee table. He breathes in, sharply, because the man on the cover is watching him—

He isn’t, of course. Jon rolls up the magazine just in case, and then stuffs it in the bin.

There aren’t many pictures in his flat, thankfully. Not even of his grandmother, which he feels vaguely guilty about. But not as guilty as he does now, as he retrieves duct tape from his cupboard and carefully, deliberately tapes it over every eye he can see. CDs. DVDs. A paint-by-numbers painting of owls, which was supposed to help with his anxiety. Even the little ghost magnet on his fridge that Georgie gave him at some point.

It's stupid. It’s really, really stupid. But it makes him feel better, lessens the prickling sensation on the back of his neck.

He goes to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and then looks up, startled to see his own reflection. Is there grey in his eyes, to match the grey in his hair? Can Elias even do that? Spy on Jon through Jon’s very eyes, without alerting him to his presence?

There must be limits to his abilities, and it’s maddening that Jon doesn’t know them. If he understood more, he could protect himself better. Protect Tim and Martin and Sasha, too.

Tim shoved him away as soon as they left Elias’s office. Whatever it was that Elias forced him to see, Jon couldn’t even begin to guess. But he shouldn’t have let Tim go, either. He offered to walk him home, at the very least, but it only brought back unpleasant memories of when he used to stalk Tim; an unforgivable breech of privacy. Tim angrily rebuffed his offer.

Jon would have to face him tomorrow. Find some way to apologize. Even though he was running out of excuses for his own inadequacy. There’s only so many times a man can apologize, after all, before it all rings hollow.

He takes the mirror off the wall. Just in case.

***

Next week, Elias is busy. Something about the board of directors, Rosie says apologetically; meetings to have, reports to give, budgets to submit for acceptance. It’s mundane to the point of grotesque.

Jon requests a meeting anyway, and isn’t granted one until next Wednesday. His heart is in his throat, the way it tends to be when he enters Elias’s office lately. It’s thankfully late in the day, the Institute being almost deserted. He wonders if Elias scheduled it that way on purpose, so that they can be alone.

If so, he is almost glad.

“Elias,” he says. And then, because nothing in his life makes sense anymore, he follows up with: “I hope everything went well with the board meetings.”

“Quite so,” Elias says. “Even if we had the exact same bloody conversation hundreds of thousands of times. You’d think Peter would get bored of it by now.”

He runs a hand through his hair, messing up its neat, stylish lines. It’s strange to see Elias in any state of disarray; he looks disconcertingly human right now. He seems to almost forget about Jon’s presence, before he looks up.

“Come on in, Archivist. Lock the door.”

Jon does so. There is something final about the click of the lock; he almost shudders at the sound.

“Any particular reason?” he asks, belatedly.

“It’s been a long week. I don’t want any of your annoying assistants pestering me today.”

“They wouldn’t do that if you hadn’t—”

“What? Assaulted your precious virtue?”

Jon is blushing. He must be, because he feels the warmth in his cheeks. But he refuses to back down. Not with Elias smirking at him the way he is right now, leaning back in his fancy chair. Jon takes the opposite seat and folds his hands in his lap; his mind helpfully brings back the memories of his job interview; the day he signed the contract and unknowingly pledged himself to the Institute and the Beholding for the rest of his life; the day Elias offered him the promotion.

Knowing what he knows now, he wishes he could have refused at any of these occasions. He could have told Elias “No” at any point. But—in truth, he isn’t sure he could have. He might have walked away, but he’d spend the rest of his life wondering.

“You were listening, then,” he says.

“Yes,” Elias says simply.

“Is this why you hurt Tim?”

Elias’s sharp laugh cuts through the silence. Jon fidgets in his seat.

“No. But he annoyed me.”

“You can’t do this sort of thing just because someone annoys you, Elias!” Jon snaps.

Tim still isn’t quite all right. He pretends to be, but Jon’s been watching him too carefully, and too long, to miss the obvious signs. And he knows that his watchful concern is driving Tim insane, but he still can’t bring himself to stop.

“Why not?” Elias asks, with an infuriating little smile.

Jon struggles for an appropriate response, but all he can come up with is: “It isn’t right.”

“And who is to decide what is or isn’t “right”, Jon? You? Me? An impartial and uncaring God? Because I can assure you, the Eye loved that particular display. Or could you not feel it?”

“Whatever it is your God wants from you—”

“Our God, Archivist. Do not ever forget that.”

Jon bites back a sharp retort. He has little to gain by challenging Elias’s delusions—

“Do you need any further proofs?” Elias asks calmly. “Because I can provide them. In abundance.”

“Get out of my head,” Jon seethes.

“Learn to stop me,” Elias says. “Make it difficult, at the very least.”

“Tell me how.”

“Why would I give you answers it took more than one lifetime to procure?” Elias asks. “You have to work for these things, Jon. Otherwise they have no meaning.”

Jon forces himself to breathe evenly. He didn’t ask for this; he doesn’t need to know. He can ignore the gnawing hunger that’s consuming him; that has already consumed Elias. The Eye demands a hefty price for its gifts, and Jon isn’t willing to pay it. He must remember that.

“Let them go,” he says, as calm as he can manage. “Tim and Martin and Sasha. They shouldn’t be here.”

“They are bound by the same contract as you are,” Elias says.

“They didn’t know. None of us knew.”

“Yes, it is frustrating, isn’t it?” Elias smiles. “Ignorance. Uncertainty. Doubt. Wouldn’t you rather be rid of them, Jon?”

He doesn’t bother denying. What would be the point? Elias can see right through him already. But there are lines Jon cannot cross. And there’s some comfort in knowing his own limits; he wonders if Elias has any such compunctions. Knowing that about him would be an immensely valuable asset.

It is hard to imagine. Harder to imagine still that he might come to know Elias so intimately, and what that knowledge might do to him. How well can you know another person, Jon wonders, before it changes something irrevocably and fundamentally about your own self?

“Elias,” he tries again, in a softer voice. “Please. Let them go. I don’t want to see them hurt.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” Elias says. “So what is it you can offer me in exchange, Archivist?”

And Jon laughs. He can’t help it. His shoulders tremble with the effort of holding it back, before he gives up entirely, and dissolves into giggles, wiping more than one tear from his eyes. His thoughts are such a complete and utter mess that not even Elias can read them right now, if his puzzled frown is any indication.

“Something funny?”

“I was just thinking about what Tim had said,” Jon says.

Elias isn’t pleased, he can tell as much from the frown on his face. Jon is half-heartedly expecting him to take out his anger on Jon himself – he tries to prepare himself for a barrage of horrifying images that Elias might want to push into his mind. What shape would they take? It is unsettling to consider, but some detached part of himself can’t help but wonder what Elias thinks Jon’s worst nightmare is. If that’s even how it works, of course.

“I’m not going to do that, Jon,” Elias says.

“Why not?” Jon asks. Yet again Elias is picking through his thoughts as if it was his right to do so. Yet again he shows absolutely no regard for other people’s privacy. It’s maddening, and Jon wants very badly to stop him, but since he doesn’t know how, he just thinks the word: Bastard as clearly as he can, and hopes it makes its way through their mental link.

“There is no reason to,” Elias says. “It’s just that, you see… considering how well-suited you are for your role, and how quickly you are adapting to it, I find the idea that my interest in you is purely sexual to be unacceptable and downright insulting.”

That—Jon doesn’t quite know what to make of that. What does one make of that?

“You think I’m good at my job?” he asks. Clarity, he needs clarity.

“Yes, Jon. I knew you would be. This is why I picked you.”

“Oh.”

Jon looks at the floor. Elias isn’t looking at him, either, his gaze focused somewhere on the ceiling.

“But—” No, he can’t bring himself to ask. You do want to have sex with me? Hangs at the tip of his tongue, caught in a limbo of shame and mortification. People don’t ask questions like that. Do they? For them this is just—perfectly natural. They don’t need to be told these things.

He should have dated more. He should have tried, actually tried, to get the experience he is so utterly lacking. Maybe then he might have a frame of reference for how to talk to Elias, or how to act in this situation. What is he even going to do?

Tim should be here. Or Sasha, or Martin. He still wants to keep them as far away from the supernatural as possible, still needs to keep them safe – and he can do it, really, he can do his own research, it will only take more time without Sasha’s technical skills or Tim’s charisma, without their combined dedication and efforts. He can—he must learn to handle it all alone. There’s no other way to proceed, it’s too dangerous otherwise. But – in this particular situation, with this particular subject, Jon could really use some bloody assistance right about now…

“Jon. You’re spiralling.”

“Hm?”

He looks down at his hands, twisted in his lap. He unclenches them carefully, and tries to wipe the sweat on his trousers without making it too obvious that this is what he’s doing.

Elias is smiling at him, that inexplicable, infuriating little smile that spells out that Elias knows he is the smartest person in the room, and is very much enjoying it. And oh, how Jon aches to wipe it off; to finally, finally see Elias Bouchard trip on his own ego and admit he isn’t as perfect as he likes to pretend.

After a long silence, Elias finally decides to take pity on him, and Jon hates him for it.

“Yes. I would rather like to have sex with you. But I am aware this isn’t something you would be interested in, it is irrelevant to the greater work we are trying to accomplish, and forcing you into it might negatively impact your ability to follow my orders. So I decided not to pursue the matter.”

“Negatively impact—? Oh, fuck you!”

Elias shrugs. “You wanted a clear answer.”

“I’m—you’re unbelievable.”

“It’s not my fault that the truth isn’t what you wanted it to be, Archivist.”

Elias is enjoying himself, still. And Jon wants to punch him. It would solve nothing, and create more trouble than it’s worth, but oh, he really, really wants to do it.

#jonelias #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #canon? don't know her #the magnus archives

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