#god i loved hearing jonah beg

[meetmyothersouls]

When’s the update for BTY??

Happy Thanksgiving 🍁🦃

I love you 💜

IT'S RIGHT NOW <3 LOVE YOU TOO!

Back to You

Jonah Hauer-King x first person reader

Warnings: Sexual situation, tension, not proof read

Chapter 9

I'm getting better at reading Jonah's facial expressions, but the one he has on his face when he turns around is hard to read. He thanks the man that knocked on our door and slowly shuts it. He stays turned around for a few moments, a few too long because I'm automatically suspicious. Then he turns and I see his face. Maybe it' a mixture of anxiety, fear...disappointment? His eyes find mine.

"What's going on?" I ask, but it's so quiet, I'm not sure he can hear me.

He stares at me a moment longer and I not only see but feel his eyes on me. I watch them travel down my body, lingering on my chest, before they snap back up to mine. I pull my knees up to my chest because it's so fucking cold in here.

"Let's get you on the bed, y/n, you've been on the floor too long. It'll be warmer up there."

"Answer me," I say as he steps over to and grabs my hand. It takes nothing for him to pull me up. I was comfortable on the floor. "What's going on? What did that guy say?"

"Who Harold?"

"I guess? What did he say?" Jonah's pulling me to the bed, but I yank my hand from his. "If this is going to work, we need communication. I'm not sure how things worked before-" I point to my head "-this, but I need you to talk to me."

Jonah smiles, "This? You're saying there's a 'this'?"

"Jonah," I warn.

"There's been quite a snowstorm apparently." Jonah walks over to the window and pulls down the blinds to peek through. "Shit. I can't even see the car."

I join him by the window and he's right. The ground is covered in white as far as the eye can see. "So, we can't leave," I finish for him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

I turn to face him, but he's already beside me. I look up at him and I get that overwhelming urge again. The one my body...and maybe now my mind...can't seem to shake when I'm near him. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I wanted this to be special for you, even if you can't remember it. It's our anniversary tonight. I was hoping that maybe..."

"I know," I whisper back sympathetically.

"I miss you so much," Jonah says and my heart breaks for him. "And I know you're right here. And you are still the same beautiful, sweet girl I fell in love with but..."

"But I'm not," I finish for him again. God, I want to be. I snake my arms around his waist and pull myself into him. "I'm so sorry." His arms find their way around me and he holds me tightly. His body pressed against mine feels so amazing. My heart and stomach flip like they normally do when I'm falling for someone.

"What are you apologizing for?" He asks now.

It's still dark and the sun doesn't look like it'll be making an appearance today. I look up at him again. "I feel bad...I feel empty." I drop my grip from around Jonah's waist and I climb onto to the bed. It's not much warmer up here, but it's better than the floor. Jonah stands by the window still, looking over at me with his shoulder against the wall. He crosses his arms, and he's fucking beautiful there. It takes everything out of me not to beg him to crawl on top of me and fuck me until I remember him, but I can't. Not yet.

"You've nothing to feel bad about, y/n. None of this is your fault."

"I feel bad because there should be no questions. There shouldn't be any reason that I don't just listen to you talk about our past, nod my head and be your wife again. It just feels so empty without all those memories. It feels like I need to do it all over again."

Jonah nods and walks over to the bed; he sits on the side and the mattress dips with his weight. God, I want that weight on me.

"Then let's do it all over again."

"What?"

"Let's do it all over again. We've got the rest of the month until you make your decision on whether or not you want to go back to the States." Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that. "By the way when you have an update on that I'd love to hear it." He winks.

I roll my eyes, but don't say anything.

"But for now, I think we should focus on staying warm, hmm?"

By night fall I'm miserable. No matter what I do I can't get warm. The radiator in the room is frozen solid...with actual ice. There's no power, so no lights, but Harold was nice enough to bring us about 25 candles to light the room. Jonah left the room to request more blankets before we go to bed for the night, which leaves me alone and frozen.

A phone rings from across the room. Mine died a few hours ago and the room phone doesn't work, so it has to be Jonah's. I let it ring. On the sixth ring I realize it might not be a bad idea to answer it, maybe someone is looking for him or us and doesn't know we're stuck here. I hop off of the bed, but by the time I make it to Jonah's bag it stops. A second later a notification chimes. It's a voicemail from Jorge.

I open it and put the phone to my ear. Jorge is with Haven after all, I justify to myself.

Hey, fucker, It's Jorge. Just wondering when you're going to get arse over here. Or have you decided to keep her all to yourself? You know that's not fuckin' fair, mate. You know she should have a choice.

The message clicks shut and I'm more confused than ever. What the fuck does that even mean?

Jonah walks in and I don't even pretend that I wasn't on his phone. He looks over at the bed and doesn't see me and immediately scans the room. His eyes find my quickly. "Got the blankets," he says, not even caring that I have his phone.

"You got a phone call."

"Oh? Who was it? What'd they say?" Jonah asks as he's spreading out the blankets on the bed.

"It was Jorge. He left a voicemail."

Jonah spins around, worry etched into his face. "What did he have to say?"

I had him the phone and he listens to the voicemail.

"Did you listen to it?" He asks when it finishes playing.

"Yes." No point in lying.

"Y/n..."

"Jonah what is going on? 'Keeping her to yourself'? What am I some sort of game to you?"

"What? No! Let me explain."

"Just when I was starting to feel safe around you and trust and you and...fucking fall for you...Is this a game to you?"

"Y/n, please there's a logical explanation for it all! If you'd just let me-"

"No. I'm not interested in anything you have to say or your stupid little game you've got going on with Jorge. I'm going to bed. Please don't talk to me. Don't touch me."

I crawl into the bed because I'm damn sure not sleeping on the floor tonight. The blankets Jonah brought in offer little help, but it's better than nothing. I was really looking forward to cuddling against him, kissing him, touching him, but he ruined it. He ruined all the progress we made.

"Where do you want me to sleep?" He asks softly.

"I don't care."

He pulls a pillow from the bed, and a single blanket from the stack that he brought in and lays on the floor. I turn over, because if I look at him for even a second, I'll beg him to get on the bed with me. It's so fucking cold I almost ask him for my own selfishness. I curl my knees up to my chest and attempt to sleep.

I must doze off for at least a few hours because when I wake up the candles have burned out and I'm shivering something fierce. Jonah's up and he's looking outside. He turns and walks toward the bed...toward me. His hand goes to my face, and before I pull away, set on not having him touch me. He's scooting me over on the bed.

"Don't-"

"Y/n, you're ice cold. Your skin is frozen. Your teeth are chattering so badly, I'm shocked you haven't broken one. You can hate me if you want, shit you can get on a plane tomorrow and leave if that's what you want to do. But tonight, I'm getting in this bed with you and I'm keeping you warm."

I groan and scoot over. Before he crawls in, he slides his shirt off and his sweatpants. Before I have a chance to say anything at all he's on his side and he grabs me, pulling me so close to him I can feel every outline on his body.

"Before you say anything, you'll be warmer faster with the less clothes you have on."

I'd love to argue with his logic, but I'm immediately relaxed due to his warmth. Reluctantly, I drape my arm over his side. I hike my leg up over his and pull myself even closer.

"I'm still pissed at you...but god, you're so warm," I down right moan.

"Y/n..."

"What?"

"If you're not wanting to feel even more of me...you're going to have to stop that."

"Stop what?" I can't help it.

"...Moaning like that."

For a moment, I slip out of his grasp. He looks at me, puzzled, but when I peel off my shirt and my shorts, his eyes go wide.

"Y/n-"

"What?"

"You are killing me."

"You said we'd be even warmer with no clothes on."

"I know but I didn't think-"

I lay back into him and he puts his arms around me. One of my legs go between his so my panties are resting just on his leg, and his leg is pressing right up against me. He doesn't say anything else as I get comfortable. I hear him swallow. His fingers lightly tracing my back.

I let out a small moan again.

"Y/n..."

"Tell me what that voicemail was about."

"What?"

"The voicemail. You said there was an explanation. I'd like to hear it."

"Right now?"

"Yes, Jonah, right now."

He sighs, and scoots back a little so he can look at me. "You and Jorge had a...a fling once. It was before we were together. But, Jorge and I went to New York in 2015. That's where we met you and Haven. Funnily enough, you and Jorge hit it off immediately. You didn't care for me too much."

Wow. I'm stunned.

"The fling between you and Jorge...well that's all it was, was a fling. I'm not sure if you slept together, I never cared to ask, but he was still hung up on you and you didn't want to be with him anymore. The day before we left back to London, I asked you out to dinner, and you said yes...though at the time I think it was just to make Jorge jealous, but by the end of the night...you liked me." Jonah smiles and looks at me like I'm his most favorite memory. "We slept together that night...I missed my flight the next day and stayed two more weeks with you, which was just enough time for you to book a flight back with me. We haven't been apart since then."

I'm so pissed. So pissed that I can't remember any of that. He could be lying to my face for all I know, but he tells the story so seamlessly it has to be true.

"So," Jonah continues, "when Jorge found out you lost your memory...well, I guess he's using it as a means of getting you back."

I think back to when I found Jorge and Jonah whispering to each other in the library in Jonah's house.

"Which I mean...if you want to hang out with Jorge some to see if maybe you'd rather be with him then I guess I have to let you but-"

I cut him off. I'm such a fucking bitch, I can't believe this man even still loves me. I crash my lips into his and Jonah groans into my mouth. My tongue quickly finds his and they swirl against each other, fighting for dominance. Jonah wins, and that's fine. I want him to.

"I'm sorry," I whisper against his mouth when we break for air.

"Don't be," Jonah responds quickly pulling me back to his mouth.

I'm painfully aware of Jonah's thigh pressed against my pussy, and how wet he's making me. It's taking everything out of me not to use him for pleasure.

"Go on..." Jonah whispers, as if reading my mind.

"Wh-what?"

"I feel you, go on."

"I don't know-"

Jonah smirks at me, and it's so fucking hot I lean in to kiss him again. He kisses me back for just a second before speaking. "I know you want to make yourself feel good. I'm right here." He kisses me quickly. "Use me," he whispers.

"Jonah," I moan.

His lips go to my neck and he kisses me so gently it makes me weak. He slides a hand down my back, down my side and it lands on my hip. He moves it for me, and my wet center slides against his thigh. I moan softly. The friction from my panties partnered with his leg is just...heaven right now.

"Such a pretty sound..." Jonah whispers against my neck. "God I've missed that sound...do it again for me."

Shamelessly, I grind against his thigh and moan again for him. It feels so good. His voice...his praising. Good lord that alone might be enough to bring me to my knees for him.

"Good girl," Jonah purrs. "Such a good girl."

"Ahhh," I shudder.

"See that's another thing, darling," Jonah says before kissing me passionately. He breaks the kiss when he feels me shudder against his leg. I moan, softly but it's long and drawn out as I come against his leg. "I know everything that turns you on. All your tells, all your sounds. I know how to get you going without even trying."

I'm not cold anymore as I pull away from Jonah's thigh. I'm sweating.

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @justagirlwholovedtoread @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13 @miniemonie2001 1 1 @jonahhauer-kingg @crazyyynyyyy

#jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king fanfiction #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king gifs #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king fan fiction #jonah hauer-king #first person reader #my writing

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Open requests yaaaaay!!

I feel like my request is too detailed, feel free to ignore it if it's hard for you to do so ♡

I would like to request something from tmc. As a reader who practices any sport (boxing or karate. Whatever is good.) and see the reaction of the 4 victims to this (Cesar, Mark, Adam and Jonah)

Something like, their reaction to watching their partner train or seeing how they practice it.

That would be all. Have a nice day <3

(I'm sorry if my english is really bad or something I said was misunderstood. I am using translator to write this. Really, my apologies.)

Oh no worries, your english is good! I'll do boxing for two of the fellas & karate for the other two

......

Cesar

You're at the top of your karate class, and he's proud of you fr.

Cheers you on at matches, tournaments, or even if you're just training at home in your personal dojo.

But at the same time, he gets worried whenever he sees you with a new and fresh bruise, being a very doting bf.

You just brush it off as something you did to yourself on accident.

Because you know he'll try to beat up whoever did that even tho he's nowhere near as strong as you.

His mom has plenty of medical supplies and ice packs at their home, so he always has them on-hand so you never run out.

Fortunately, you two have good reputations so neither of you have many enemies.

But if some jealous prick comes along (and they will when they see you hanging around Cesar) and harasses you two...you'll first ask them to politely leave.

If that fails or they get aggressive?

They'll leave with a black eye.

Prior to TVs being outlawed, Cesar watched Karate Kid and similar movies often to get a better understanding of your sport.

You admit to trying to learn a few moves from those films, but had yet to fully master them.

Mark

When he first learned you've practiced boxing on a daily basis, he's like "lord thank you for bringing someone who's not only sweet but also strong into my life,,,,love is real god bless-"

Tbh you don't think it's a big deal. You just like to punch things and win matches (and also protect those you loved, ofc).

Once you broke a bully's nose after they claimed you didn't "look" tough and tried to fight Mark.

He begged you to never do that again, but knows you can't make any promises.

Whenever you're training with your punching bag, he has to be careful not to accidentally sneak up on you..considering how quiet he usually is.

He's gotta make his presence known loud and clear if he wants your attention (lest he gets a broken nose, too).

After you chased an Alternate out of his house, he wonders what happened as he didn't hear any gunfire.

All you did was walk up to it and punch its jaw before jabbing it in the ribs, breaking its bones as it screamed in pain and shock, eventually running away.

Clearly, Alternates were at their strongest psychologically...not so much physically.

Your knuckles bled and bruised pretty badly, but Mark bandaged them and kissed them, thanking you nonstop for saving his life.

He murmurs prayers that your hands healed quickly, and you just smile, your love for this good man only growing.

Adam

You two are more or less polar opposites in terms of physique.

You're a boxer who has a (generally) good diet, and Adam's, well...a paranormal hunter who lives off of pizza and stale chips.

He's way out of shape and feels exhausted just from watching one of your matches alone, even if it's a video.

Eventually you suggest that he uses your punching bag to build up endurance (which he'll def need if he's running around chasing "ghosts").

However, it quickly becomes less of that and more of a release for his pent-up anger and frustrations.

Anything from a bad day at school to a rude comment calling his BPS footage "fake" will set him off; you'll hear him yelling and hitting the bag like no tomorrow.

He only stops when his knuckles bruise so badly he's in constant pain and you gotta bandage them, reminding him that he can't just wail on it nonstop without breaks.

He does admit to overdoing it, though, and lets you have it back.

Post-Catalyst, he retains some of the strength he's gained, but is deathly afraid of using the punching bag again.

His hands hurt the most when his bones broke for the first time, though as soon as he mentioned it, you bandaged them up despite it being pointless.

Tries his hardest to suppress his Alternate instincts, but he gives you full permission to beat him up if he did anything to hurt you.

Jonah

Was honestly a clueless mf before he realized you've been doing karate for years.

Apparently, he was convinced your black belt, Gi, tournament posters, and awards was just "sport merchandise".

But after all of that's clarified, he supports you 101 percent!

Tries attending the matches or tournaments you're in (luckily for you, he's willing to put those events above BPS missions), though half the time he's covering his eyes because he hates to see you get hurt.

He will, however, cheer the loudest should you win the round and brag about it to everyone he knows.

Lowkey wishes he can do all of those sick kicks and flips that you perform with ease, but remembers he'd probably pass out on the mat.

One time, he was stoned and insisted he could chop through the stack of wood you keep in your dojo, thinking it couldn't be that difficult.

Oh how wrong he was.

Next thing you knew, he's sobbing on the couch and you had to bandage his bruised hand, constantly reassuring him that his bones didn't shatter into a billion pieces.

It continued to be sore for the next several days, and you'd keep giving him that look of "I told you so" whenever he whined about it hurting.

#this took a bit to figure out but!! enjoy! #clanask #tmc x reader #mandela catalogue x reader #mark heathcliff #mark heathcliff x reader #cesar torres x reader #cesar torres #adam murray #adam murray x reader #jonah marshall #jonah marshall x reader #headcanons #martial artist reader #boxer reader

[omnidemidisaster]

Cesar and Jonah NSFW headcanons

Cesar Toress

This man is a gentleman when it comes to intercourse

Hes honestly super shy when it comes to anything that includes sex

He loves to kiss you while making love, just casually reminding you he loves you

Definitely someone who prefers soft sex than rough

Riskiest thing this man will ever do is pull your hair or degrade you, that's how soft he likes to go

He lets out the most adorable whimpers, especially if you give him head or ride him

He loves praising you during sex

Not like the usual "good girl/boy" or whatever, like legitimate praise for your body

Something like "G-God hon, your body is so pretty...I'm glad your all mine"

"Jonah Marshall"

He loves it when your only in his hoodie

That fucking riles him up

Whenever Adam is inside a house and doing paranormal stuff, Jonah is probably fucking you in the back seat

He loves absolutely pounding you and making your head spin

But he isn't opposed if you decide to top

He loves eating you out, just hearing you moan and beg for more makes him feel good

I swear this man can just eat you out and that'll be enough to make him cum

Pull his hair. Do it.

He won't hesitate to leave marks

#x reader #mandela catalouge x reader #cesar torres x reader #jonah marshall x reader

[rookfeatherrambles]

i did promise.

I did promise a bit of the Jonelias Wip, didn't I? Here you go~ MAG 200 BUT JE. SPOILERS, OBVI (UNFORMATTED and just dumped from a google doc, be warned) Jonathan Sims hesitates. The knife is a terrible weight in his hand, the handle hot and sweaty in his palm.

*Where had he even gotten it?*

Some Slaughter domain, most likely. Just taken, with no thought how he would carry out his task. Driven by his anger, lit from within by the righteous fury of a man driven by revenge and revenge alone.

Jonah Magnus had hurt so many people. He deserved to die!

But here and now? Faced with the man himself, begging for Jon to reconsider, to *talk* to him, trying to reason with him... Jon hesitates.

Martin wouldn’t hesitate. Jon knows this. Martin, if he was here, would take his hand, and guide him forward, and together, they would plunge the knife into Jonah’s heart, and they would face entropy together, as well as whatever came after.

But that was why Martin wasn’t there. Because Jon knew he wouldn’t hesitate, and because Jon can’t do it.

He can’t look away from the fear in Jonah’s eyes, the man who ended the world full of the exact same terror and weakness he'd sacrificed everyone else to avoid.  Jonah was cold, he was self-serving, he was horrible and awful and utterly human, and Jon hated him for it. Nothing made more sense to him now, than plunging the knife into his chest and finishing this, as he was always meant to. But Jon was just as human, if not more so. And Jon was also in love with him. He cannot hide it now, why he dragged his feet the entire journey to London, why he tried his best to avoid the subject of killing Elias every time Martin brought it up. How were they going to fix the world, anyway? Anyone could see it was broken beyond repair. And then, they’d gotten there, and Jonah had looked … he’d looked like a puppet, a vessel, and Jon was so overcome with feelings. He was envious, yes, even Martin could see that. But it hadn’t only been because he wanted to take Jonah’s place, no. Yes, He wanted that blissful ignorance, the cessation of shame he’d get only when he became The Great Watcher's Pupil. But most importantly, he’d felt…. Slighted. Not once had Jonah even registered they were there, though Jon knew he knew. Was he simply that unimportant? Just a tool, after all. Martin saw that too, which was why he left. They had a fight, and then everything fell apart after that. Annabelle Cane gave them another option, and Jon knew he had to go through with it. He couldn’t let Martin be the one to wield the knife, it had to be him, no matter the consequences that would come after. But here he is, the hour is now, and he is frozen.

His hands begin to shake, the sound magnified by the enormity of the space they’re in, and his breath quickens, his chest tight as the panic sets in, his throat closing. *I can't do this. Oh, god. I can't do it!*

The knife clatters to the floor and Jon covers his face with his hands as his eyes, all of them, tear up, and he breaks. "No, no, *no!*"

Jon is aware Jonah is staring at him, but he's lost in his grief, in his wretchedness, a coward. A failure. The world will suffer eternally until entropy consumes them all because Jon cannot take Jonah's life. Death is less than the man deserves, and he can't raise the knife.

Jon moans, shaking his head, his long hair falling into his face, and then his hands grip himself, a tight squeeze that does nothing except bruise his skin.

He doesn’t move when he hears Jonah’s hesitant steps coming closer over the stone floor, but when a pair of very real, very warm, very human arms wrap around him and Jon is pulled into a soft chest that smells of sandalwood and well pressed linen, he lets out a wounded noise and openly weeps, clinging to Jonah's fine shirt like he is drowning and soaking it with his tears.

Jonah holds him, and lets him cry it out, his free hand stroking against the back of Jon’s long, dark hair. It’s streaked with grey and silver, like starlight, and tangled, rough from not enough care and apocalypse grime.

He deserves a bath, Jonah thinks. When Jon is done crying, Jonah will run him a bath, little thanks for sparing his life, but he knows just how warm, pleasantly scented water can change a person's perspective. He will wash the journey from his Archivist’s skin, he will carefully brush the snarls from his hair. The image is so domestic and soft, Jonah is slightly taken aback by how much he wants it to be real.

Jon eventually quiets his sobs, and his voice is hoarse and hitched when he speaks. "I'm s-sorry..."

#the magnus archives #tma spoilers #jonelias #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #rook writes

[mythicandco]

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river.

"Do I look like a fool?" said the frog. "You'd sting me if I let you on my back!"

"Be logical," said the scorpion. "If I stung you, I'd certainly drown myself."

"That's true," the frog acknowledged. "Climb aboard, then!" But no sooner were they halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown.

"Why on earth did you do that?" the frog cried morosely. "Now we're both going to die."

"I can't help it," said the scorpion. "It's my nature."

--

A deer, finding itself in a particularly dark patch of forest and feeling unsafe, asks a wolf to be its escort.

The wolf tucks in its tail and flicks back its ears with a low growl. It is meant to sound threatening, but the deer can hear its fear, too.

"Do I look like a fool? Why should I help you? How do I know you will not impale me on your antlers?"

--

A deer stumbles into a road on a freezing January night, and, upon seeing headlights approaching, freezes and waits for the truck to hit it.

The truck stops, and the driver steps out. The side of the truck is plastered with the emblem of some nearby farm.

The young deer, sides heaving, begs the Shepherd for safety and a second chance.

The Shepherd smiles.

--

The deer prays to God for safety and a second chance.

God grants it a second chance.

--

Finding itself standing on the opposite side of the treeline from a sheepdog defending his flock, a deer informs its opposite that he is not in fact a dog, but a wolf, and that they are both creatures of the forest; both wild, hungry things. At this, the deer begins to struggle through the thick brambles on the edge of the forest.

--

A wolf, imagining itself a sheepdog, tries to stop the deer from getting into the pasture and trampling the animals under its protection. But the nearest sheep, panicking, rams into the wolf's side while trying to hit the deer instead.

And wolves do love the taste of mutton, and this one hasn't had a proper meal in so long, and really, the little lamb hurt it first.

--

Finding itself in an unfamiliar and yet strangely reversely-recognizable part of the forest, a wolf comes across a wounded deer. It appears to have been hit by a truck or a bullet or a shard of glass, or mauled by the wolf earlier.

Bristling, the wolf snarls: "Why should I help you? How do I know you won't hurt my friends?"

"You shouldn't help me," the deer says. "You should kill me."

--

The wolf cannot kill the deer. When it realized - a revelation, really - that it was not a lamb but a canine, it had begged for death, too. It had convinced itself that it was a sheepdog, a protector, instead. But it had still snapped and given in to instinct when one of the sheep had rammed into it and its mind was still reeling.

The wolf had been forgiven. Maybe the deer could be, too.

--

Somewhere in a flowerfield in a whale, a lamb gasps to breathe.

--

And the whale was commanded by the Lord, and it cast up Jonah on the dry land. (Jonah 2:10)

--

A raven opens a door.

--

Darkness there, and nothing more. (Edgar Allan Poe, "The Raven")

--

And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all. (Edgar Allan Poe, "The Masque of the Red Death")

--

...And the Red Death held sway over all! (Stephen King, The Shining)

--

And after the seven days the floodwaters came on the earth. (Genesis 7:10)

--

Deer can swim faster than wolves.

--

When the songbird falls out of her nest and into the water, the deer, being a stronger swimmer than the other animals, tries to help her. But the songbird, panicking, claws out its eye with her talons.

--

Deer are actually omnivorous; for extra protein, they will often eat small animals they find while grazing on plants. It is not uncommon for deer to snap up baby birds or eggs if they happen to fall to the ground nearby.

--

A songbird - a canary, perhaps - sits in a box (or a coalmine, which is really just a bigger box) and waits for the air to turn toxic.

It does and doesn't, the canary sees a flowerfield superimposed over a forest, and the world splits down the middle.

--

The future has already happened, but in this twisted forest, this deep, dark house of leaves, maybe the future can he changed. Maybe it can be redone. A second chance.

--

The wolf forgives the deer, because they are both afraid. Because they are the same.

--

The wolf kills the deer, out of revenge. Out of mercy. Out of desperation to finally end things.

--

Query: Can rabbits swim?

--

A rabbit with broken ribs waits for the wolf to return. She is not sure if he can be fully trusted to protect her and the others, but she wants to, and knows he wants to, too. His claws and teeth have never hurt them without deep regret afterwards, deep as the sea where the whales live.

As the water rises and the other animals huddle around her, she hopes the wolf is better off than them, and fears the worst.

--

The deer swings its antlers about in a bucking sort of panic and anger, and nicks the raven's wing.

--

A sheep, knowing how to swim but with a harpoon through his leg, risks himself to save a drowning baby bird.

--

update this has been in my drafts for forever I'm just posting it as is. have fun

#tempus fugit au

[trkstrnd]

okay I’d love to hear just your general thoughts on the Tarlos kid plot, anything you have to offer

alright here is an itemized list

-carlos doesn’t want kids because he doesn’t think he’ll be a good father/internalized self doubt instilled in him by one gabriel reyes

-the boys are totally having kids at some point just not now and i think that was what he was getting at even with the new promo

-the reason the kids conversation is coming in so late is because all the other ones were written into backstory/unseen conversations and tim realized they had to have SOMETHING

-their conversation showed so much growth from both of them and they are so proud.

-i think they’re going to have to talk with their families about this and not just each other bc we know tk wants to be one because he talks about it esp with owen but carlos has never gotten that chance because he’s still a bit distant from his parents

-tim himself said they’re in the same boat so this will be resolved somehow

-please give carlos a honeymoon in italy please please please he needs it.

-overall, i would like to see them wait (tk strand is notorious for his impulse decisions and carlos reyes has always complimented that by pumping the brakes), be husbands together before they’re dads, live their lives and then settle down.

-what i know is likely going to happen: something happens to enzo and they’re forced to care for jonah, which i don’t like because if even one of them is still having doubts it undermines their wishes and it’s boo tomato.

-but also that could be a workaround for “i like other people’s kids.”

-please don’t give them a child until they’re married i’m begging you.

-even exercise impulse control by waiting even LONGER until after their married.

-overall?? kids: yes. kids right now: oh god please no.

#911 lone star #trick talks lone star #trick answers asks #thank you for asking!! #ilysm #911ls #911ls spoilers #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos

[your-krazy-uncle-bob]

CLEVELAND, OH — Local man Vincent Palmer revealed his total unfamiliarity with life or God today, as he assured a suffering friend that God would never give him more than he could handle.

"Hey don't worry man, you've got the strength to tackle whatever God lets come your way," said Mr. Palmer. "I'm sure that's in the Bible somewhere, probably the book of Job or something."

Mr. Palmer was attempting to comfort his friend Brad, who had just been diagnosed with lupus only a week after losing his job. "I feel like I'm drowning. I've just got nothing left," said Brad, ruminating. "Vince says this is when God wants me to pull myself up by my own bootstraps, but I'm starting to get suspicious that Vince isn't real accurate with these Bible quotes."

Brad reportedly decided to check the Bible for himself, and quickly discovered a very different story. "Wow. Like, half the characters in here just lay down and beg to die at some point," said a surprised Brad. "Moses, Elijah, Jonah, Jeremiah, Job - all tell God they wish they could just cash it in. Then you've got the Psalms of David - the man apparently lived half his life in total despair. God says He is still there with all of them, and you can trust His love - but He sure ain't stopping life from bringing you to the breaking point."

At publishing time, Brad was sharing with Vince the good news that sometimes, the place where you are completely crushed and defeated is the easiest place to hear God speak.

[runefells]

so glad jon got his own catharsis in the end : )

bonus:

#jonathan sims #elias bouchard #the magnus archives #magpod #tma #s5 spoilers #tma spoilers #my art #god i loved hearing jonah beg #im posting this earlier than i would usually cause i want to get it out there shdjk #blood /

[maries-gallery]

200 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

𝑨𝑶𝑻

SFW :

Jean :

“Are you jealous ?”

“Would you please spend forever with me ?”

Bertholdt :

“Stop being so cute.”

��𝒌𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

SFW :

Oliver :

“Say my name, again.” with “Don’t ever leave my sight again.” and “Are you jealous ?”

“Shut up and kiss me.” and “Stop biting/kissing me.”

NSFW :

Ray :

“Are you jealous ?” with “Call me daddy.” and “Touch yourself for me.”

Sirius :

“I know you can take it,___.” and “Come on, I want the neighbours to hear you scream.”

Jonah :

“Look at that, so wet for me already and I’ve barely even touched you.” with “Beg for it.” and “Touch yourself for me.”

“No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed yet.” with “You like it, don’t you ? When I call you mine and fill you full with my cum.” and “God you’re so freaking beautiful right now.”

𝑰𝒌𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝑽𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆

SFW :

Theo : 

“No, stay. Don’t pull away just yet.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Arthur :

“Would you please spend forever with me.” and “I love you so much it aches.”

“I love you so much it aches” and “You make me so happy.”

“Shush and go back to bed.” and “Stop being so cute.”

“Stop hogging all the blankets !”

“I want you. Only you.” 

NSFW :

Isaac :

“Stop biting me !” and “Do you know how bad I want to be inside of you right now ?”

Theo :

“I know you can take it, (Y/n).” and Oral sex 

Jean :

“Say my name, again.” 

Napoleon :

“Do you know how bad I want to be inside of you right now ?” and “You like it, don’t you ? When I call you mine and fill you full with my cum.” 

Shakespeare :

“Don’t pull away just yet.” with “I love you so much it aches.” and “Come on, don’t be shy. I want to hear you sing for me.”

“Always so fucking tight for me.” 

#masterlist #ikemen revolution #ikemen vampire #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #aot fluff

[chilling-seavey]

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 15

A/N ...and a conclusion.

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

I didn’t move for a moment, frozen in stiff shock. That couldn’t be true. Jonah had been helping me this whole time…coming over when I called and helping me leave the state…

I slowly tucked the papers into a neat stack with realization and turned casually out the passenger side window, trying to wrap my head around what I just pieced together. I hoped it wasn’t true. I prayed to whatever God above that it wasn’t true. I felt like I was going to be sick. My wife was dead in the trunk of my car and the hand who did it to her was driving me two states over on the run. There was nothing around us for miles so it’s not like I could run for help if I wanted to and even still…would I want to call the cops on my best friend? He didn’t when we thought it was me. But yet, everything he ever said to be the prior twenty-fours hours had been complete lies to set me up into believing this trap.

He had been all too calm.

Jonah sang softly from beside me, the music playing quietly through the car as we drove down the desert highway. He had his sunglasses on and his hat, shading his face from the sun and from me. I couldn’t look at him without wanting to be sick with dread.

“Jonah.” I finally spoke shakily.

“Yeah?” he answered innocently.

I kept my eyes out the side window, curling the corner of the letter under my finger nervously as I fought with myself to confront him. My leg was shaking and I pressed my hand down on my thigh to try and calm the habit. He turned down the music and I could feel him glancing over at me a few times before focusing back on the road. I took a small inhale before whispering to the window, “You did it, didn’t you? You killed her.”

There was a silence. A suffocating tense silence that pressed down on my chest until I swear I was going to choke. The music turned off and the only sounds for miles was the desert winds whooshing past the car. I closed my eyes tightly and resting my fist against my mouth in anticipation for his reply. His hesitation only made it worse.

“Tell me the truth, Jonah.” I ordered as strongly as I could but even I could hear my voice shaking. “What was this letter about?”

Jonah’s hands gripped tighter to the wheel and I heard him let out a strong sigh, “She just blocked my number.”

“Why did she block you?”

A pause.

“Jonah.”

“Because I was in love with her, bro.”

That certainly got my attention. I whipped my head around to look at him, eyes furrowed in his direction, “The fuck do you mean you were in love with her?”

“I loved her. And you were a shitty fucking husband, dude.” Jonah tisked. He adjusted the blue cap on his head, “I could have treated her so much better than you and I told her that but she didn’t like that.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I processed the information my best friend was telling me. I turned back out the window and watched the desert speed past us along the empty highway.

“But did you kill her?” I repeated my initial question.

There was a pause.

His silence was my answer.

“You did.” I breathed.

“Don’t freak out, okay?”

“Don’t freak out? Jonah, what the- what the fuck-”

Jonah huffed as if I was being a complete vexation. God, dear reader, I didn’t know what to think. I tried to form some sort of response, some sort of sentence to figure out why to did it but my lungs had abandoned me and I could only muster a few random panicked words.

“Why- I just- You- She- I- Why- Why did you- Oh my God- Jonah-”

The car slowed down as Jonah pulled onto the dusty dirt shoulder of the freeway. I glanced back at him as he put my car in park and got out, his jaw clenched stiffly and his face stone. I watched him step to the back door and he tugged his bag towards him before shuffling through it and right to the bottom. My chest was heaving with emotion and I swear I could hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Neither of us spoke.

And I especially didn’t when I saw the pistol he pulled from his bag.

He slammed the backdoor and walked around the car to my side, angling the gun right towards me through the window, “Get the fuck out.”

I froze.

“Get the fuck out of the car, Daniel.” Jonah repeated darkly.

My trembling hand found the handle and I stumbled out of the car and into the hot desert heat, the papers dropping to the floor of the car and the two cell phones and the denim jacket tumbling out onto the hot sand. The buzz of insects could be heard faintly in the distance between the dry patches of grass that dotted the landscape behind Jonah and beyond the paved highway. I raised my hands up slowly, not taking my eyes off my best friend and the gun in his hand.

“Jonah…” I spoke slowly, cautiously.

This had to be a fucking dream.

“I didn’t want it to come to this.” Jonah said darkly, his voice shaking with emotion.

“We can work something out.” I assured him quietly, now just trying to save my own life.

“Shut up.”

I swallowed thickly, eyes dropping to my cell phone that had fallen beside the feet in my haste to get out of the car.

“Don’t.” Jonah lunged forward and I gasped as he grabbed my arm and yanked me around so he was standing between the car and myself, giving me a shove away. His aggression made me stumble over my feet and the slight decline off the side of the highway shoulder and I fell backwards on the desert ground.

Have you ever joked around with your best friend about loving them so much you’d take a bullet for them? Cruelest twist of fate of my fucking life.

I stared up at Jonah from where I was splayed out on the ground, staring into the end of the pistol and the reflection of my own face in his sunglasses.

“I loved her.” Jonah said sharply. “I loved her more than you did.”

“Jonah…”

He cut me off, “I-I told her not to marry you! I told her you’re too in love with music to give a shit about her but she didn’t listen. I had to prove it to her so I sent you all that work to look over on your honeymoon. I’m not a fucking idiot, Daniel, I could have done it myself; but she had to see that you would put her second to your work if it came to it. Dumb woman didn’t even care. Not even when I met you at home after your flight and spoke to her in the studio that night and gave her all the proof that I loved her more than you.”

Jonah tisked distastefully and shook his head.

“You fought so loudly in there I could have sworn it was over…that you two were over…but she told me that she…that she loved you more than anyone in the whole goddamn world no matter what and I could never come close.”

I felt my chest tighten at that, tears choking me up in the back of my throat as he spoke of her last words and her last moments.

“We could have been happy together, she and I. I could have given her a nice fucking life. I fucking hated seeing her with you…especially seeing how fucking miserable you treated her. So I told her…if she didn’t want me, she couldn’t have anyone.” Jonah said through his teeth. “And she tried to run. And she set off the security alarm but I am the only other person outside of your family who knows the code to turn the alarm off and delete the tapes. It’s her birthday. Of course, I was going to remember her fucking birthday.”

I tensed at his confession, feeling the rough sand and heat of the desert burning through my skin and my clothes as I laid under his control.

“I knew where the knives were. I had this plan for weeks…ever since she first blocked my number before the wedding. She had one last chance to change her mind…to be happy with me and she blew it. And she begged for her life. And she cried for you. And I watched her sweet face fall into the hands of death like an angel.”

I couldn’t hold back the sob that fell from my lips.

“Then you came out. You heard her scream so you came to check on her but I couldn’t let you see me so in the shadows I knocked you out on the side of the piano and left you there, setting up the perfect scene to make it look like you did it with no traces of my own. No security camera tapes, no unfamiliar fingerprints, nothing. And I could have gotten away with it if you…if you weren’t so…so fucking persistent.”

The pistol was trembling in his fist, still directed right at my face.

“Jonah.” I breathed shakily.

“My name is still clear though. You’re the only one who they’re looking for right now, especially after you just told Corbyn she was dead…Jack knows too. The cops are probably tracing your phone right now. They’re probably on their way to lock you the fuck up right now.” Jonah licked his lips and took a breath, “But you’re gonna talk.”

“N-No I won’t.” I rushed out. “I swear I won’t. W-We can set up someone else…we can figure it out, Jonah, I promise.”

Jonah cocked the gun and I scrambled a bit farther back over the coarse sand, scraping my skin over the gravel in my futile attempt to get away.

“Jonah, please, bro, I swear I’ll help you. I-I forgive you-”

“I don’t need your forgiveness.” Jonah walked down the slight embankment to where I was dropped back over the ground and he stood right over me until the sun was blocked by his body and cast a shadow over me.

He was my best friend in the world, my business partner, and we had gone through most of our lives together but looking at him in that moment, I didn’t even recognise him.

“Jonah.” I spoke slowly, cautiously, licking my dry lips under the scorching heat of the desert sun. “Please, bro. Please…we can work something out, I swear.”

“Shut the fuck up, Seavey.” Jonah snapped loudly, his voice nearly echoing across the vast expanse of bare land around us. He dropped his volume as if he was convincing himself, “Fuck it. At least this way I’ll get your shares of the label and a clean slate.”

He was breathing hard as he moved closer and stepped on my hands to keep me from moving, the toe of his designer shoes pressing light indents into the back of my hands as he pushed them against the rough ground. I leaned away from him and the stare of the pistol habitually, praying for any sort of miracle. The freeway was perfectly empty and there wasn’t a car in sight but my own. There was no way out of this.

I let my gaze linger on the closed trunk, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fall at the image of her tucked up like a science experiment in the equipment case. The dust was burning my eyes but I didn’t doubt that the drop that finally trickled down my cheek was an honest heartbroken tear.

If she cried for me, I was going to cry for her too.

“What a Romeo and Juliet love story.” Jonah spoke, his voice dripping in taunting darkness, as he bent down slowly over top of me.

The cold metal of the mouth of the pistol touching my forehead instinctively made my eyes close tightly. The pumping of my heart echoed in my ears and the scorching desert sun dripped sweat down my brow to mix in with the salty perspiration of fear.

“Daniel Seavey killed his wife…” Jonah pressed it harder there, enough to make a whimper fall from my throat, “and then killed himself.”

What do you think of in your last moments? People often say you see your life flashing before your eyes or you see a bright light but, for me, all I saw was Avalon.

Nearly twenty-four hours since I found her. Nearly forty since she died on my studio floor alone and in fear. My world died that night and the only positive that I could possibly reach for was that at least I wouldn’t live in a universe without her for too long.

And yet, thrown there on the side of the freeway with my best friend holding a loaded gun to my head, all I could think about was her. I could hear her laugh and feel the warm of her skin and I couldn’t wait to see her again; to be able to stroke her soft hair and smell her sweet perfume and to be able to tell her how much I really did lov

-(The End)-

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee​ @randomlimelightxxx​ @stuffofseaveyy​ @hopinglimelight​ @tempus-ut-luceant​ @br4nd1s​ @xkelsev​ @hiya-its-amber​ @the-girl-who-cried-wolf​

#🔪 #im scared to post this #im second guessing everything #maybe this is stupid #daniel seavey #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

[moos-cow]

'Tis the Season for SMUT

Day 3 Prompt: "Who needs Santa when you have me?" 

Pairing: Jonah Clemence/Reader

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution 

Genre: SMUT

Word count: 1,630

Warning: Explicit

It was past lights out when Jonah returned from his evening patrol. Tired and cold, the Queen sauntered back to your shared room only to find it empty-- you were missing, and so was Pine. With a faint huff, he marched back down the quiet hall. There was only one place you could've gone to at this late of an hour, and it was the kitchen.

Just like he thought, you were there-- humming to a jolly Christmas tune while placing the freshly baked cookies onto the cooling rack; Pine was there too, nibbling on some sunflower seeds on the adjacent counter.

But as adorable as the scene may be, it was late and you all needed to go to bed. "Ahem,"

You turn in surprise to see Jonah standing by the threshold of the kitchen, a frown that creased his delicate features was topped off with a faint blush along his cheeks.

"Why are you up so late? I was expecting to see you in bed. And what are all these for?" the Queen scolded, rapid firing questions as his eyes were drawn to the large amount of cookies in one of the jars beside the cooling rack.

"They're for Santa, but I made more for everyone." You simply answer, still placing the cookies on the cooling rack. Jonah's brief silence prompted you to turn to face him again, finding a very bewildered look on his face.

"I assume you'd want to ask why?" you chuckle at the man's expression.

"Obviously. It's rather odd that you'd want to feed something that doesn't even exist, Y/N." Jonah steps closer and takes a seat on one of the counter stools.

"Oh don't be like that, Jonah." You pout and grab a warm cookie from the tray and bring it up to his lips. "Here, have a cookie."

With his mouth now occupied, you take the moment to explain. "See, some believed that if they leave out snacks for Santa, he'll leave a gift behind or answer your wish in return; and others just leave out snacks as thanks for his hard work--"

"You'll be bribing Santa Claus either way." he scoffs, half a cookie nestled between his index and thumb.

"buuut, there are others, like me, who just want to know if he exists here." You banter back, waving another cookie to Jonah's direction with a wide grin on your face.

"Of course he doesn't exist here!" the Queen nearly screeches, but he quickly turns to Pine with a grumpy pout, murmuring to himself, but still loud enough that you could hear every word spoken, "Why would you need Santa anyway when you have me?"

You walk around the counter to stand beside Jonah, hands cupping his flushed cheeks, you guide him close to peck kisses on his pouting lips. "Aww. I wouldn't trade you for the world or two, Jonah. How can I trade you for Santa?"

Jonah's pout and blush deepened at your kisses and words, deep golden amber eyes stare into yours as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. "How do you always get away with teasing me, Y/N?"

You shrug and pull him once again into a kiss, deep and starved this time around. His hands slips down behind your thighs, and as he stands, he easily lifts you up on the empty space of the counter. You yelp into the kiss, and he breaks off with a little tug on your lip.

Lips travelling down your neck and teeth lightly grazing over your heating skin, Jonah's hands sweep over your sides and back, tugging the ties to your apron off and tossing it out of sight. His deft fingers quickly undo your ribbon and buttons, exposing your heaving chest to him.

As his mouth goes down, nipping and grazing your supple flesh, your hands go up and around his neck, tousling through his minty hair. You let out a shuddering sigh as one of his hands slide underneath your bra to cup your breast, massaging it and sending shivers down to your core; and the other, down your thigh, bringing your skirt up for his hand to skim over your bare leg.

You can feel his grin as your back arches the moment he tugs and twists on a taut nipple, calling out his name in a stifled moan.

He lets go of you for a moment to tug you further to the edge of the counter and spreads your legs wider; he eyes you like an expensive piece of art, lust-filled gaze burns the current image of you into memory-- flushed and messed up on the kitchen counter, just for him.

Desire burns deep in your belly as he brings a finger to your clothed core, skimming over your opening and the little bundle of nerves approvingly. Teasingly slow and gentle yet sending shocks of pleasure that further drowns you in your arousal.

"Jonah," you call again through ragged breathing, tugging on his jacket to be removed. You needed to touch him, to feel his warmth on your skin.

He doesn't comply, rather, he bends down and tugs your underwear off from under you. You press your knees together, suddenly remembering that you're in the kitchen, half-naked for every passing soldier and staff to see. But Jonah caresses your legs, assuring you that no one will walk on you two, and you open it again in earnest.

Jonah scoots in between your legs, drawing his tongue from the base of your slit to the top of your clit, lapping and sucking-- eating you out on the counter top.

You try to stifle your moans, bringing a fist up to cover your mouth in fear of being heard, but Jonah pulls your hand down, "Don't. I want to hear you"

Mouth on your clit, he slides a digit in, pumping and curling at a teasingly slow pace until your lewd begs fill the kitchen-- heading straight to the growing tent in the Queen's pants. "Jonah, please-"

He concedes in earnest and adds a second digit in, pumping, curling, and lapping until you're left trembling under his ministrations. Your hands found their way to his hair, gripping on it as if it were the only thing that can ground you from the upcoming high.

Your body tenses up violently with pleasure, and your walls contract around his fingers. Jonah continues his ministrations as you tip over to ride out your orgasm.

He pulls out from you and comes back up from your quivering cunt, your arousal now glistening across his mouth and chin. He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking it clean, before swiping a thumb over the wetness on his face.

You pull his hand to your mouth and suck his thumb with a pop, tasting your own arousal. You grin as you lightly bite onto his finger and run your tongue over its tip suggestively.

"You are insatiable, Y/N."

"Am I?" You chuckle and pull him close, legs languidly wrapping around his as your hand trails down to brush over the tent of his pants, palming him through his uniform. He groans in pleasure and his hips twitch instinctively.

"Take it off." You tug on his jacket once again, and this time, he removes it-- quickly undoing the buttons as you work through the belt and his pants. You pull his clothing down just enough for his length to spring free-- hard and erect, with precum beading from the tip.

You take his length in your hands, working him slowly in all the right places you knew, eliciting guttural moans from each of your touches. Jonah calls your name with a shuddering sigh, silently begging for more.

You shift forward on the counter, poising Jonah's cock to your entrance, sliding the head to spread your wetness from your pussy onto his length. As you pause in movement, Jonah pushes in-- your walls instantly tightening around him as he fully sheaths himself in you. "God, you feel so good, Y/N."

Unable to help yourself, you roll your hips forward, dragging a bated moan from your lips at the phenomenal sensation of your Queen. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into Jonah's collarbone as he holds you by the hips and grinds up deep into you-- eliciting a drawn out gasp from you with every thrust.

With your second orgasm building up, Jonah lifts up your leg to spread you out wider for him as he speeds up his thrusts until he's banging mindlessly into you. With the new angle he's brought you into, you're forced to groan out into his shoulder to muffle your sound. He just loves to hear how good he makes you feel.

"Ah, Jonah I'm close-"

"Not until I say so." Jonah grunts as he brings his dexterous fingers back to rub against your sensitive clit. He slows down his pace for you to feel the full drag of his cock and the impact of his deep thrusts, again and again until your legs quiver from the overstimulation.

"Mmm, Jonah please-" you choke out, but immediately gets cut off by a sharp gasp as Jonah speeds up his ministrations to an almost brutal pace, quickly bringing you to the edge once more.

With a twitch, your body seizes up once more as your orgasm crashes over you. Your cries were muffled just in time by Jonah's lips crashing onto yours as he dutifully fucks you through your high, stuttering in his pace as he cums just a few moments after.

The air is hot between you two. Cookies, now long forgotten to a passionate love making session on the kitchen counter.

Someone has to clean this up.

#ikemen revolution #ikemen kakumei #ikerev #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen revolution fanfiction #'tis the season for smut #jonah clemence #ikerev jonah

[iceeckos12]

tma fic recs

I’ve seen a couple of fic rec posts floating around. since ive been reading so many excellent fic recently, i thought that id make one as well! please note this list is going to be 99% jonmartin. also buckle up, because this is going to get long.

Completed

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

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

Notes: This is probably my go-to fic if i want an apocalypse never happened scenario. The jonmartin is wonderful, as is the h/c.

Diary and Prenon-nous la main by luftballoons99

Diary summary:

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

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

Prenon-nous la main summary:

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

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

Notes: Do you love impeccable safehouse jonmartin characterization? do you love characters grappling with the mortifying ordeal of being known? do you love softness so tender that it makes you want to weep? please read these fic. im begging you.

i’ll tell you about all the times i’ve smiled because of you by cryptidkidprem

Summary:

Martin thinks about their shoes, sitting beside each other on the floor by the bed. Thinks of the way Jon wears Martin’s cardigans more often than he wears his own, the way Martin’s started keeping elastics around his wrist because Jon always forgets his own when they go out.

He thinks about all the gentle touches and fussing over each other they’ve done, and how much is still to come over the next… however long Jon will have him.

They have a long way to go, an entire life to build out of the wreckage Jonah Magnus and Peter Lukas left them, but laying together in a comfortable, sleepy quiet, Martin thinks they’ve got a good start going.

Or, Jon quits the Institute, saves the world, and it turns out to be exactly what he needs in order to heal and start moving forward towards building a life with Martin.

Notes: how many times have i reread this fic? more than i can count. jon quits the institute and it’s just full of soft jonmartins. they get married! god i love them.

go softly by doomcountry

Summary:

And there is nothing else besides this.

Notes: every time i remember this fic i reread it. please heed the tags because martin is blinding jon, but he’s like. blinding jon in the most heartbreaking way possible. idk how the author made this so tender but i know i was certainly crying so!

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by  Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

Summary:

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Notes: Do you like time travel fixits? i sure like time travel fixits. reverb is an excellent one. heavy on the h/c, I wanted to hug jon so so badly. 

Yesterday is Here by  CirrusGrey

Summary:

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Notes: Yet another time travel fixit! also excellent. the teasing was HYSTERICAL. also Im just going to say this now - CirrusGrey in general writes incredible tma fic. You can’t really go wrong.

unassigned supplementals by  bibliocratic 

Notes: I won’t put in a summary just because it’s a long series of oneshots, but bibliocratic’s writing is amazing. Again, you can’t really go wrong with one of their fic!

let the soft animal of your body by autoclaves

Summary:

Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.

In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.

(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)

Notes: this fic really speaks to me a) because i project on martin like crazy and b) because food is also my love language. this fic is incredibly soft and it’s all about cooking!

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” by shinyopals

Summary:

I hope you find your new role as Head of the Institute as rewarding as captaining the Tundra, wrote Elias Bouchard, to Peter Lukas. There are so many people working there: all with their own interesting lives, and all desiring your attention and support. I'm sure you will relish the challenge it will bring and enjoy every moment spent with the fine men and women of the Institute. In time I'm confident they'll become like a family to you.

The Magnus Institute has a new boss. The Magnus Institute also has a new tech support technician. These two facts are unrelated, except they both happen at the same time.

Meanwhile Jon's woken up from being dead for six months and for once he's trying his best. He just wishes Martin would stop avoiding him and answer his messages...

Notes: if you’re looking for a good laugh, this fic is SO SO SO FUNNY. i was dying. basically the magnus institute being an absolute bureaucratic nightmare.

hello my old heart  by  firebirdsuite

Summary:

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

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Notes: it’s all about the yearning. and trust me, the yearning in this fic? im just. i sure do love jonmartin, and this is such soft, loving jonmartin it just makes you want to cry

two ships passing by pyrites

Summary:

Gerard Keay is 10 years old the very first time he tries to run away from home, right around the time that Jonathan Sims has just come into possession of his first Leitner.

Or: One dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves.

Notes: again, JONGERRY. MY GOODNESS. this fic is beautiful, the writing is absolutely breathtaking and it owns my heart. im so in love with it. the author said you’re going to have emotions about jon and gerry and jongerry and i said OKAY

Terminal Sight by viv_is_spooky

Summary:

Spider silk weaves through the visions of two Seers. Monstrosity is dawning on them both.

Notes: I’d never read a gerryoliver fic before this, but the execution is EXCELLENT and now im sold on the ship forever. This fic has wonderful prose and great characterization and i love it a whole lot.

Incomplete

assistant archivist au by  PitViperOfDoom

Notes: I won’t put a summary since I’m reccing an entire series, but. it is absolutely no secret that i adore jongerry. pit’s assistant archivist au slapped me over the head with some gorgeous jongerry oneshots and then gave me the gift of the main fic (which is still in progress) about head archivist martin. i love this au so so much

dustsceawung by  callmearcturus

Summary:

Martin had always been favored by the summer courts, and moving up north to the little village of Lacuna is a difficult adjustment. It's rainy and lonely and everyone seems to have a strange, distant relationship with the local faerie court.

However: there is a strange man in a cloak who walks past Martin's remote little cottage every few days.

However: there is a moth that keeps getting stuck in Martin's house during the rain.

These events are not as disconnected as they first appear.

Notes: you ever just read a fic that you didn’t know that you needed until after you read it? yeah. featuring the fae and moth jon and excellent characterization.

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Notes: This is also the moment where I reveal that im a sucker for jongerrymartin. please read this fic. gerry is brought back from the dead in s4 and everyone is far better off for it.

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

Summary:

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Notes: this time travel fixit is shaping up to be an absolutely incredible read. i love the way this author writes jon so so much, and the characterization is spot on. this whole fic just satisfies some little part of me. god. also!! bubonickitten’s writing in general? beautiful. please check out their other works.

The Timeline of Theseus by Applea

Jon tries to force the Spiral to send him back, but the Sprial's corridors never twist things quite the way you want them to. Back in 1996, Elias has no idea why or how the Eye made such a powerful Avatar out of an 8 year old, especially when said 8 year old doesn't actually know he has any powers at all. Clearly such a child cannot be left outside the Institute's care. 

Notes: This fic is legitimately brilliant. The author manages to capture the big ADHD mood and the precociousness of baby Jon while managing to write a wonderful storyline. Time travel! Elderly lesbians! A Jonah who is wildly in over his head but was walloped over the head with paternal instinct! Baby Gerry! What more could you possibly ask for?

rooms full of people who do not love each other yet by seaer

Summary:

“Wanted to ask about a book.” The boy has his hand on the counter, and he leans into it, nonchalant. The library is air-conditioned, but by no means frigid, and Jon can’t help but feel sweaty just looking at the layers he’s wearing; what looks like old leather over an olive-green Magnus pullover over his school shirt. “Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Jon says, tetchily, “We’re about to close.”

“I know. Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Notes: I am so in love with this author’s writing style and the way they write the characters!! The jon and gerry friendship is PERFECT and the character interactions are all darling.

if you read these fics please send the authors some love, they definitely deserve it!! 

#tma #fic recs #ill update this as i read #seriously some very very good stuff on here #long post

[andyet-here-we-are]

Head Over Feet

Words: 4,057 Chapters: 1/1

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

A/N: Thanks @3tothe1 for checking my errors. You are the best, sweetheart.

Additional Tags: Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia,  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, but not that much angst etc so no worries, Fluff, Geralt writes a song for Jaskier, Geralt sings to Jaskier, mention of nightmares, Happy Ending

I hope you enjoy reading this, my dear Witchlings! 💛

(P.S: I highly recommend listening to Jonah Platt’s “Head Over Feet” cover since I was inspired by it, but shhh, we’re gonna pretend that Geralt wrote that song.)

***

“No, Jaskier. I won’t fucking sing. You better stop waiting for it.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whined, “You promised me!”

Yeah, right. The promise Jaskier wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.

The promise Geralt was more than glad he had heard nevertheless.

“And now I’m saying that won’t happen.”

About two weeks ago, being the foolish, brave bard he was, Jaskier had tried to distract a Slezaerek so Geralt could kill it effortlessly. It had worked, but not without a cost, sadly.

Jaskier was hurt in the progress of doing that, and “Witchers don’t have feelings” his ass, Geralt was more than terrified that he was going to lose his little hummingbird for good this time.

“Just keep your eyes open, please,” the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”

He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.

Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.

“And w-what’s in it for me?” was Jaskier’s answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote  the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.

“Keep your damn eyes open,”  Geralt wanted to say.

And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.

But what left his mouth instead was: “I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”

“Promise..?” The bard’s eyes had closed for a second before he revealed his baby blues to Geralt again, “you have to promise. It feels so tempting to sleep right now, my dear. You–”

“I promise. Hang on for me, little hummingbird. You always wanted to hear me sing, right? You have to hang on then.”

Thanks to all the gods in every religion -if they even really existed- Jaskier had managed to stay awake with Geralt’s help.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier walked towards him with loud and determined steps, breaking the Witcher away from his thoughts.

“You have been waiting for only two weeks. Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest. You stop talking rubbish. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier insisted with a little, cute frown, making Geralt let out a small chuckle.

Yennefer rolled his eyes at the bard, “Ever the dramatic. Also, honest? Really? You are the most dishonest person if your songs are anything to go by.”  

“You. Lying. Snowman.” The dramatic bard in question ignored her, poking Geralt’s chest with his index finger between every word. “I knew it, I fucking knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! I should have just kept my eyes closed!”

“Don’t say that.” The Witcher said. “You…”

“You wouldn’t be here now if you did,” was unheard. But Jaskier understood anyway.

“At least I wouldn’t have to witness such a–  such a betrayal!”

Instead of saying something, Geralt looked at Yennefer, she gave him a knowing look in return -which Jaskier didn’t miss, of course-

“Wait a minute, you’re hiding something!”

“Yeah, his desire for killing you so you would finally stop nagging like a bitch,” Yennefer sighed tiredly, clearly feeling a bit annoyed by Jaskier’s antics.

“I’m not hiding something,” he lied.

He was definitely hiding something, but Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

“I hate my life sometimes,” the bard kept complaining, crossing his arms and finally accepting that he wasn’t going to hear Geralt singing today: “Anyway, I’m not cooking today, you are on your own.”

“And how is that supposed to be a threat? Jask, no offence, but even Ciri cooks better than you. We nearly had food poisoning the last time you tried to cook.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by even?” came Ciri’s voice.

Well, fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a walk, wanna come?” Jaskier asked Ciri before Geralt could answer Ciri’s question.

“He is trying to save my ass even when he is mad at me,” Geralt thought, looking at the bard with such a loving look, but then the other man added:  “Betrayed people gotta stick together, you know,” and that loving look immediately turned into a “Disappointed But Not Surprised” look.

“Sure,” agreed Ciri, giving Geralt a meaningful look before she disappeared into the woods with Jaskier.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to talk a lady. Also, you better figure out how to complete that song before your bard gives you another tantrum and crush his lute over your head or something,” said Yennefer

“Helpful as always, Yen.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right, though.

***

After spending six more nights to complete his song, Geralt was finally ready to fulfill his promise finally.

It was certainly going to be a big surprise for Jaskier since Geralt had made it clear that he wouldn’t sing. And just three days ago, Jaskier had apologized to him.

“I’m sorry that I kinda overreacted before,” he had said. “Okay, not kinda. But I just… I’ve always wondered what your singing voice sounds like, so when you said you weren’t going to sing, I felt disappointed. Anyway, I wrote a new song, you wanna hear?”

So, yeah. He was gonna be so surprised.

And oh God, he had no idea how Jaskier could do it before so many people. “Having the voice of an angel probably helps,”  his mind suggested not-so-helpfully.

He had an audience of three people, three people that mean the world to him, and he was already stressed as hell. He would rather sing to an Ethereal instead.

The Witcher didn’t even know how to do this. How should he start? By saying “I’ve written a song for you,” or by singing out of the blue? Should he stand while singing? Or is it a better idea to just sit?

And for God’s sake, where should he put his damn hands?

Would it be weird if he just kept his hands at his sides? Would that make him look like a puppet in a box or something?

For a moment, he wished he knew how to play the lute. So he could just sit down and play it, not having to think about his hands. He should have let Jaskier teach him when he offered it months ago. Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

“Okay, Geralt, give yourself a minute. You can do this,” he assured himself and took a deep breath. “Just remember why you’re doing this, and just do whatever feels natural. Say something romantic before you start, maybe.”

When he took a look at Jaskier, who was sitting by the fire across from him with Ciri and talking to her excitedly about something, he knew that he shouldn’t be worried about any of these things. And he shouldn’t worry about forgetting the words, even though he felt like he would forget and make a fool of himself.

“Jaskier!” He called as Ciri stood up to go to Yennefer’s side. “Are you planning to shut your mouth at least for a couple of minutes anytime soon?”

“So much for making a romantic remark before you start singing. Well done Geralt, way to go,” a voice inside his head scolded him as Jaskier said something he failed to catch. It wasn’t his fault that it was what felt natural. Being romantic wasn’t his strong suit, but he was trying to improve.

“Okay, so. It won’t be the best song you’ve ever heard, but it’s the best I can do. If any of you laugh at me while I’m singing, I’ll kick your sorry asses.”

“Wait, wha–”

He took a deep breath once again and started singing, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he gaped with wide-open eyes.

“I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

 You treat me like I’m a damn prince

I’m not used to liking that

You ask how my day was”

He heard Ciri letting out a little chuckle at the “damn prince,” part, and he gave her a warning look before turning his gaze on Jaskier again, standing up.

There was no lie in it, Jaskier did treat him like he was a prince. He treated the Witcher like he wasn’t someone people were afraid of, but someone good and royal. Someone who deserved to be respected. Someone who deserved all the compliments in the whole world, not ugly slurs.

Someone who deserved to be loved.

 “You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault,” he sang, pointing at the bard while singing “it’s all your fault.”

 Geralt nodded at him like saying “yes, I mean you, you silly bard,” when Jaskier briefly looked around as if he wasn’t sure Geralt was singing to him.

Of course, he meant him.

Because it sure was his fault.

It was Jaskier’s fault that his smile was more bright and dazzling than the afternoon sun, warming Geralt inside every time.

It was his fault that he had the biggest heart of gold Geralt had ever encountered, filled with so much love.

His fault that he had a voice that would make angels weep with jealousy. His fault that he was just so… Jaskier.

“Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You’re so much braver than I gave you credit for

That’s not lip service”

He found his hands moving naturally against his will as he sang. Guess he was worried for nothing.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

 He sang the chorus once again, walking towards the man who he was able to render speechless for once, for a good reason hopefully this time. Speechless, and surprised as hell.

When he was finally in front of Jaskier, he reached his hands out tentatively towards him, hoping that the bard would just take the hint and hold them. Sadly, he didn’t. So Geralt just bent over and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from the log he was sitting on. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he closed his eyes, not sure if he could sing that part while looking at Jaskier.

He kept singing after swallowing thickly to find his voice again, not letting go of the bard’s dainty hands:

“You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

 You’re the best friend that I’ve ever had

Let’s be boyfriends

What are we waiting for?

What took me so long?”

 “Did he just ask him to be his boyfriend?” Geralt heard Ciri gasp quietly.

“Fucking finally,“ he was sure that Yennefer was rolling his eyes right now, “they were already acting like boyfriends anyway. Well, or more like an old married couple.”

Wait, were they?

Deep down, he knew that Jaskier had feelings for him, too. But still, he couldn’t help but think “What if I’m wrong?”

What if he was opening his heart only to get it broken?

No, no way.

He was being ridiculous.

Jaskier loved him, too. There was no way that would happen.

He knew that he did. Maybe Geralt was just too stubborn to see it at first, maybe it got him decades to accept that someone could truly love him, yeah, but he finally did accept it.

They loved each other.

And it was only Geralt’s fault that he kept pushing Jaskier away from himself for so long.

It was only when he finally was succeeded, he regretted it.

He regretted it deeply.

He was aware of everything after having to spend half of the year Jaskierless - yes, it was a real word to him, more real than any word, even, it meant “suffering” “pain” and “sadness” in his dictionary - he was aware of his love for him.

If anything, it was Jaskier who should have been afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt by him again, afraid of being vulnerable again.

Because he had already laid his heart bare to the Witcher before, yet Geralt had broken his heart so badly.

But Jaskier had given him another chance anyway, and Geralt had promised himself to do his best not to make him regret it.

The white-haired man had said goodbye to The Old Geralt right when he got that chance.

“Goodbye,” he had told him, “no longer hiding behind excuses, no longer always avoiding to express yourself. Maybe it will be difficult to say goodbye to you, I know. And you will appear again in front of people I don’t know, as it should be, but I have to say goodbye to you. ‘Cause if I go on like this, I will only cause harm to my loved ones, thinking that I am protecting them.”

Perhaps it seemed like there was no radical change at all since one couldn’t suddenly say goodbye to the person he had been for years. Old habits die hard, after all.

But changing was the important thing, no matter how slow.

Back in the day, Geralt would pretend he didn’t care or like it whenever Jaskier composed a new song. But the new Geralt would make little comments on his songs instead of acting like he wasn’t even listening.

And even just saying “That’s a nice song,” or “I don’t hate it,” with the tiniest smile was enough to make Jaskier happy. It was enough to make him realize that things weren’t the same anymore.

The new Geralt showed it when he was concerned for the bard, and he paid attention to Jaskier’s feelings, to his warnings, to him.

He tried his best to make it up for his every mistake.

He tried his best to be the friend Jaskier deserved since the very beginning.

It wasn’t just a one-sided deal, though. Because Jaskier had his own regrets as well, and he knew that neither he nor Geralt was flawless.

There were moments Geralt would get mad about something that had happened; moments that required him to be alone for a while.

While old Jaskier would try to lighten the mood with jokes and would force him to say something, new Jaskier wouldn’t do that.

He would just say: “I’m here if you wanna talk,” and when Geralt was back, he would do his best to make him feel better. He would get him in the bath if Geralt wanted him to, washing him with such care. Then he would make him a nice cup of tea before insisting that he needed to take a nap.

Not once would he open his mouth to say anything about whatever had upset Geralt unless the white-haired man said something about it first.

One of these days, Geralt had asked the bard while he was washing the Witcher silently: “Do you remember when I said that I needed no one..?”

With that question, the gentle hands that massaging his scalp had come to a halt.

“You know what they say,” Jaskier had replied bitterly, the tone of hurt in his voice making Geralt ache “one has to forget first to remember.”

“I was wrong,” Geralt had admitted with a mumble after a moment of heavy silence, turning to his right a bit and reaching over to hug the bard’s legs. “I was so wrong.”

“I need you,” he had thought, his hair dampening the other man’s trousers, “I need you in my life, Jaskier. I can’t say it out loud, but please hear my silent words. Find them in my actions, find them in my touch.”

As if reading his mind, Jaskier had moved one hand to Geralt’s bare shoulder and caressed the skin there gently and slowly before saying: “You have me, Geralt. And I’ll be in your life as long as you want me to be. As long as you act like it.”

Things had changed again after that. In a good way.

They had become more touchy with each other. Jaskier was already a touchy person, but Geralt couldn’t say the same for himself.

Normally.

After their little conversation, Geralt was feeling more comfortable with showing his affection with little things, like ruffling Jaskier’s silky hair when he would pout, annoyed at Geralt for something. Or when he would do something impressive.

Little things like calling him “little hummingbird”  instead of just “bard” because Jaskier reminded him of one.

Just like a hummingbird, he was unique and beautiful in every aspect, and it was hard to catch up with him since he was constantly in motion. Also, he usually talked non-stop and when he would stop singing or talking, he would start humming this time. And eh, let’s not forget about his colourful outfits that suited him so well.

So, Geralt called him “hummingbird”, and he could swear that Jaskier’s eyes shined with happiness whenever he called him that.

Maybe he could finally call him “my little hummingbird” pretty soon.

“I’ve never felt this healthy before

I’ve never wanted something rational

I am aware now

I am aware now

 You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

 And he was done.

Yet, even after he finished singing, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

When Jaskier pulled his hands away, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He cursed himself in his head, feeling too anxious to even breathe. Did he fuck everything up? Just like that? Did he just misread everything like a goddamn fool?

What was gonna-

Before he could ask himself any further questions, he felt a feather-light touch on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes only to find Jaskier’s stunning blue eyes shining with tears, looking at him like Geralt had just caught the moon for him.  

Geralt waited for him to say something.

Anything.

“Was my singing so terrible it made you cry?” He asked when Jaskier said nothing in a full minute. The bard’s face was so close to his that he could count the drops that were nestled on his long eyelashes.

The white-haired man wiped his tears away with his thumb gently as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Or you didn’t like the song? I believe it was much better than The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

He knew that Jaskier would say something if he made a comment on one of his songs. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Excuse me,” here it came, “but The Fishmonger’s Daughter is a great song.”

“No, it isn’t. You just sing ‘ba ba,’ and ‘ta-da-da’ for half of the song. Even four years old can do that.”

“And people love it. They love to sing along and it’s catchy, also it has a story in it like every one of my songs,” Jaskier claimed with a weak voice and swallowed as Geralt ran his fingertips lightly along the side of his neck. He sounded like he could break at any moment as he whispered after wrapping one hand around the Witcher’s waist: “Now will you just shut me up with a kiss or should I just keep–”

And who was he to deny Jaskier of something he wanted as well..?

So Geralt shut him up with pressing his lips against his soft lips, kissing him gently but passionately. At first, Jaskier just held him close instead of kissing him back, but then his eyes closed and he returned his kiss with equal fervour.

He could hear the distant cheering of Ciri and Yennefer as they kissed for God knows how long. It was strange how a couple of minutes had felt endless, but also too short at the same time.

“Hey,” Jaskier swallowed again when Geralt pulled back a little and broke the kiss so they could take a breath, “I’ve never heard this song before. Where did you…”

“Because it was written for you, you silly, beautiful dandelion,” answered the Witcher. “By me.”

A beat.

And with that, a loud sob broke free from Jaskier’s throat, tears falling freely over his beautiful face as the sound of footsteps going off into the distance was heard.

“I’m so afraid that this is all happening in my head,” he whispered, burying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his frame shaking slightly. “I’m fucking terrified that this is nothing but a vivid dream. I’ve waited for so long, Geralt. Countless times I’ve dreamed about hearing you say that you wanted me, too. Not just as a friend, but more. And now, I–” Jaskier took a shaky breath, “Could we just…”

Geralt hugged him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back, not needing Jaskier to complete his sentence.

He knew what he meant anyway.

Because Jaskier wasn’t the only one who felt like this.

There were nights Geralt would still wake up in cold sweat, finding it hard to believe that Jaskier was in the same room with him for real.

More often than not, the bard wouldn’t realize that Geralt had woken up since he was a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t notice if an earthquake happened. So, the white-haired man would just watch him sleep until he could convince himself that he was real.

An impulse to brush his fingers through Jaskier’s silky hair would come up every time without any exceptions.

Sometimes he would almost reach out to him, but then he would instantly retrieve his hand, afraid of waking him up even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

But sometimes, he couldn’t resist that impulse and would brush his fingers through Jaskier’s hair oh so carefully. And then stroke against the softness of his cheek before pulling the thick comforter over him, smiling because: “this is real.”

In that rare moments when Jaskier would wake up to see Geralt awake, trying to calm himself, he would ask him what was wrong. And the look Geralt would give him would always be enough for him to understand that what his nightmares were about.

The bard would pull him into his arms then, singing softly, lovingly in his ear.

“Can you just…”

Geralt would start after Jaskier would stop singing eventually, but he could never finish his question.

He could never ask: “Can you just keep holding me for a little while longer?”

But he didn’t need to.

“Sure,” Jaskier would keep holding him as Geralt would close his eyes, listening to the relaxing heartbeats of the bard.

“I’m here, you adorable, big snowman,” he would whisper afterwards. “I’m here.”

So, no.

Geralt definitely didn’t need him to complete his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling him even closer to himself, not even able to tolerate being two-inch apart from him, “we can stay like this, Jaskier.”

“Don’t let go,” Jaskier begged after a while, “Please, don’t let go.”

Just like he did when his screams would break the silence of the night sometimes, alarming all of the Witcher’s senses with concern.

Just like when Geralt would hold him loosely to calm him down, telling him to just follow his breathing and to breathe with him, nice and slow as he would take Jaskier’s hand and place it on his own broad chest.

“Never.” He assured him sweetly, breathing in Jaskier’s heavenly scent and placing a little kiss on his shoulder “Never again, my little hummingbird.”

Seriously…

What took him so long..?

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher fanfiction #my writing

[matchasprouts]

Our Little Secret - Chapter 1

[ hey gaymers :) i am in love with Irvin wjfjewhbhjewfwhbw uhhh first chapter is always short but i swear i try. anyway enjoy i hope i can update listen closer at some point ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

This was why he never read the news.

Jonah didn’t know about the Nighthawk when he moved to this town, his only real information about it being focused on the museum he was being brought in to work at. And he still didn’t know about him until two weeks after moving in, when one of his new coworkers shoved a newspaper in his hands and told him he was lucky he wasn’t blonde.

The reason he never read the news was because he was jumpy, and paranoid. Sure, he was brunette and- more importantly- a man, so he really had nothing to be scared of. Would that stop him from being terrified to leave at night? Absolutely not.

“I haven’t lived this long being careless,” he told that same coworker when they teased him for being so scared. “I watch my back. It’s how I’ve survived.”

No one ever taught him that living and survival were two different things. He’d always thought that just surviving was the pinnacle of being alive. Yes, that ideal changed a little when he got the job he always wanted as a historian, but he stood by it to this day.

Still, he walked alone when he went home.

He walked alone, a pocket knife in one hand and 911 ready to be called on his phone in the other. If someone wanted to kill him, they’d have to work for it.

That didn’t stop him from seeing what he did.

Jonah had to walk through the woods to get to his house- small, hidden in the trees, away from people like he liked- and god was he regretting it tonight.

She ran up to him, dirty and panicked, tears streaking down her cheeks. She grabbed his shirt and jacket in desperation, begging him to help her between sobs. She was blonde, even quite pretty. He knew immediately what she was running from.

He wanted to help, he wanted nothing more to help her. He grabbed her arms, started pulling her away, toward his house. He could hear himself telling her to come on, to come with him, but he didn’t remember opening his mouth. He could hear his own heartbeat, and he almost thought he could hear her’s too.

Neither of them saw the hammer that came down on her head until it was too late, and Jonah couldn’t even scream when he felt the blood on his face.

The woman was ripped from his grasp, and thrown down on the ground so her attacker could continue his assault, bringing the hammer down on the back of her head over and over until she was nothing but a pulpy, bloody mush.

Jonah opened his mouth to finally scream, but there was a bloody, gloved hand covering it almost immediately.

Apparently, the Nighthawk wasn’t used to having witnesses, because his face was completely uncovered.

He, himself, was a blonde, with deep blue eyes. He wore rounded glasses, and he didn’t look crazed like Jonah would have thought. No, he looked… eerily calm. He was even softly shushing him, caressing his cheek with his thumb.

Jonah wondered if he could see how terrified he was. Based on the look of amusement he wore, he was going to assume he could. Was he going to kill him? Do to him what he did to that girl?

The answer, apparently, was no.

“Our little secret,” the Nighthawk whispered, and Jonah vaguely noted the british accent he had. “Our little secret… I’ll find you if you tell it. I’ll know. I never forget a face.”

He believed that. Wholeheartedly. So he frantically nodded, afraid to open his mouth because at that point he would definitely scream, and definitely die.

The man smiled at him. “Good boy,” he all but purred, pulling away the second he was sure that Jonah would keep his mouth shut.

He didn’t even get the chance to stand up before the Nighthawk was gone, disappearing into the trees.

His focus returned to the body. He wasn’t surprised that he didn’t feel sick looking at the bloody mess, wholly used to looking at dead things. Though, usually they were animals, and they were stuffed.

Almost immediately, he reached for his phone, which still had 911 pulled up on the screen. He went to press the call button, and froze. Logically, he should call. He shouldn’t be hesitating.

But he said he’d find him, and the police would want an interview, as would the press. He just couldn’t risk it.

Luckily, the scene was far enough away from his home that it wouldn’t be tracked back to it. Plus, the killings had been going on since before he moved, so he wouldn’t be implicated as the murderer for not reporting it.

With that now solidified in his mind, he slowly stood up, looking one last time at the body, and ran.

He ran until he reached his house, all but slamming into the door when he couldn’t stop himself fast enough. It took a few tries to get the key into the lock with how shaky his hands were, but he finally managed it and opened the door as fast as possible, slamming it shut behind him and making sure to lock it.

After catching his breath, he showered, scrubbing the blood off of his skin until it was raw and numb.

When that was done, he got dressed in new clothes, tossed the bloodied ones in the trash, and sat silently on his bed until he finally laid down and passed out.

He’d moved here because it was supposed to be quiet, and calm.

Now he was wondering if it was too late to move again.

#story tag: our little secret #self ship #self ship fic #self shipping #jack.writing #jack.ships #s/i: jonah hall #irvin clements #romantic: 🩺🔨 #chapter 1

[twinklecheeks]

Friends With Benefits (Jeff Wittek Imagine) Part 10

Summary: Jeff and Y/N have been hooking up for a while. The whole vlog squad assumes they’re dating and Y/N does too but Jeff doesn’t like labels. He eventually starts to express interest in Natalie.

Note: Planning on making this a multiple part series, depending on how good it does.  You’re 21 & Latina in this (maybe) series. Also, I’d like to apologize for the typos, if there is any. I’m just illiterate lmao.  

Side note: I am SO SORRY I’ve been MIA since May? June?. I was planning to write chapters throughout the summer but this quarantine thing really affected my mental health. I hope you guys understand. Also, I’m starting my last semester of college next week so Idk my posting schedule.

Warnings! Pregnancy

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Word Count: 2.1k

Okay so now that y/n and Jeff had a rather… Interesting time in Big Bear, they end it with bad news…. And Jeff still hasn’t told his parents about y/n. Christmas is in less than a week! What can go wrong?

12/20/19

Y/n: JEFF. YOU NEVER TOLD YOUR PARENTS THAT I WAS PREGNANT???!

Jeff: hey hey hey, can you calm down. Knowing the piece of shit I can be, I didn’t think I was going to be in your life. But look, I surprised myself!

Y/n: So absolutely no one knows?

Jeff: Karyn does…. Maybe my brother Steven too. Karyn basically knows the whole story.

Y/n: Are your parents going to be mad?

Jeff: Haha no. My ma has been begging me to straighten myself out and have a family. If they knew the whole story,... then they’d kill me.

Y/n: Is it just going to be us and the rest of your fam?

Jeff: Oh I forgot to tell you, Jonah’s family is coming too.

Y/n: Really?! Thank god. If it gets awkward, I can just stuff my face in the corner w/ Jonah.

Jeff: Don’t do that. You have to eat healthy.

Y/n: *gives Jeff a death glare*

Jeff: At least try to. Come on I just don’t want any other risks for the girls.

Y/n: Yeah…. I guess. What are we going to do if they’re deaf? I don’t know whether to choose the cochlear implant for selfish reasons or to let them grow up deaf and learn sign language.

Jeff: If they grow up deaf, we’re gonna have to take one or both of them to speech therapy and that’s going to be extremely difficult because they’re not going to hear if what they’re saying is pronounced right.

Y/n: Maybe we should give them the implant and make them learn sign language? I mean, it’s always beneficial to know another language.

Jeff: But we also have to remember that there’s a chance the implant won’t work and they’re going to have to grow up deaf. Also, remember that there’s a possibility that only one of them is born deaf.

Y/n: I hate how we’re talking about this before Christmas. I thought this was supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year.

Jeff: It is but hey, if my ma gets mad at us, we’re breaking the ice w/ the babies possibly being deaf.

Y/n: JEFF.

Jeff: Oh shut up you know you would do that too w/ your parents.

Y/n: *rolls her eyes* I mean… you’re not wrong.

Jeff: Now hurry up and pack your stuff. We have an early flight tomorrow.

12/21/19

*At the airport w/ the Antonyan’s*

Suzie: I can’t believe we’re spending Christmas in New York!

Jonah: It’s gonna be so cold there though.

Vardon: Shut up Jonah. It’s a free present from David.

Jeff: Hey I’m gonna give y’all a heads up that my parent’s do not know that y/n is pregnant.

Everybody: *looks at Jeff for being a dumbass*

Suzie: You’re so stupid.

Jonah: I agree

Jonah’s mom: She look like she gonna give birth tomorrow and you no tell your parents?!

Jonah’s dad: You in big trouble Jeff

Y/n: *Laughing*

Jeff: Let’s just get on the plane.

*They arrive in New York*

Y/n: Jeff, we can’t just show up to your parent’s house and they see how pregnant I am. It’s going to ruin Christmas!

Jeff: Don’t worry. I’m sure they're going to be fine. I think.

Y/n: JEFF.

Jeff: *sees his older sister* Hey look it’s Karyn!

Karyn: *moves Jeff out of the way* Oh my god y/n! Can't believe you’re having twins!

Y/n: Jeff hasn’t told your parents about me yet.

Karyn: *turns to Jeff* JEFF ARE YOU FUCKIN STUPID

Jeff: Hey can y’all wait to yell at me after we leave the airport. People are staring

*In the car*

Karyn: Jeff I know I gave you a deadline to tell Ma and Pa but that didn’t mean to WAIT UNTIL THE DEADLINE.

Jeff: Everybody just loves to yell at me today

Y/n: How do you honestly think they’re going to react.

Karyn: They probably think Natalie is gonna come

Y/n: *getting madder by the second* THEY KNEW ABOUT NATALIE AND NOT ABOUT ME WHEN I WAS WITH YOU BEFORE HER AND FOR MUCH LONGER.

Jeff: Thanks a lot Karyn why tf did you have to say that.

Karyn: Hey, this is your fault. Not ours. You have to think of a way to tell mom and dad.

Suzie: *sitting in the back* This is going to be an interesting Christmas.

*Jeff’s parent’s house*

Jeff: Here goes nothing. *opens the door* hey ma?? *looks around*

Karyn: Maybe they left to get last minute things for Christmas.

Y/n: Cool, gives me time to hide.

Karyn: Hun, everything is going to be fine.

*another car pulls into the driveway*

Y/n: Oh god I’m going to throw up

Jeff: How about you go to my old room and I talk to them.

Y/n: *walks to Jeff’s old room* What if Jeff’s parents are disappointed that I’m not Natalie? They knew about her and not me.

*Jeff’s parents walk in*

Jeff’s mom: My baby boy! I know it’s only been a month but I love it everytime you come home. Sorry we weren’t here. We were buying more food just in case. You didn’t bring Natalie?

Jeff: About that, her and I are done… for good.

Jeff’s dad: Oh well, that’s too bad son.

Karyn: *whispers* But he did bring someone else…

Jeff: *shoves Karyn* hey, shut it. Ma…. Pa…. There was someone else before Natalie… We went out for a while but I broke it off w/ her cause I was stupid and now we’re back together…

Jeff’s dad: Okay, I don’t see the problem? Is she here?

Jeff: Ummm she is… But there’s something else. She’s pregnant… and they’re mine.

*Jeff’s parents both laugh*

*Everybody else laughs nervously*

Jeff’s mom: Good joke, now where is she?

Karyn: Ma, he’s not joking…

*Jeff’s parents look at everybody*

Jeff’s dad: Oh Jeffrey, what did you do.

Jeff: No no no, everything is fine between us. It was ugly between us at first but now we’re back together.

Jeff’s mom: *processes* WAIT. Did you say “they’re mine” as in PLURAL?!

Jeff: Umm yeah. She’s having twins.

Jeff’s mom: I don't know whether to be angry or excited. I mean I’m going to be a grandmother again!

Jeff’s Dad: If he’s on good terms w/ her and is back together w/ her, I see no problem.

Jeff: Y/n you wanna come out?

Y/n: *Walks out slowly* Hii

Jeff’s mom: My god, how far along are you?

Y/n: 5 months

Jeff’s mom: *turns to Jeff* You kept this from us for HOW LONG.

Jeff: We can talk about that later but at least give a warm welcome to the mother of your soon to be granddaughters.

Jeff’s family: IT’S TWIN GIRLS

Jeff’s mom: Oh my god I feel like fainting but I won’t. Oh dear congratulations. I’m going to spoil those little girls rotten. *hugs y/n*

Y/n: Thank you so much. I was afraid of how you would react.

Jeff’s dad: His mom has been begging him to settle down for years. She finally got her wish.

Jeff’s mom: This is a Christmas gift I wasn't expecting at all but I am so happy for the both of you. Jeffrey is a natural when he spends time w/ his sister’s children.

Y/n: haha that’s good to know.

Jeff’s dad: Dear they’re probably all tired. Let them rest for a bit and we’ll go out later tonight.

*Jeff and Y/n take a nap in Jeff’s old room*

Y/n: Well, that went better than expected. I just wish my parents were like that…

Jeff: Babe don’t worry, they’ll come around.

Y/n: I doubt it. When my older sister moved out, they didn’t talk to her for a year but when our older brother moved out, my parents helped him w/ everything! All I’ve done is please them and I do one thing they don’t like and I’M DISOWNED?? QUE SE VAYAN AL CARAJO!

Jeff: Hey hey hey, calm down. You don’t wanna stress the girls out.

Y/n: I mean, at least my siblings are on my side but they live in Seattle.

Jeff: We also have like 20 friends who will always be w/ us. The twins will always have family around.

Y/n: I’m just wondering when we should tell them about the deaf thing.

Jeff: I think we should wait until after the holidays. Maybe in February? I just think we need our time to process and prepare ourselves for anything before it’s confirmed once they’re born.

Y/n: Yeah, you’re right. But February is my birthday though… I don’t wanna ruin the fun w/ that.

Jeff: Hurry up and get dressed. I have a little surprise for you but you have to close your eyes when you get in the car.

Y/n: Jeff please don’t send me into pre-term labor.

Jeff: Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad. I think you’ll love it.

*Jeff drives to Brooklyn*

Jeff: Okay we're almost there. Are your eyes still closed?

Y/n: Yeeees. Boy I’m getting impatient.

Jeff: We’re here. I’ll help you get out of the car. Okay now you can open your eyes.

Y/n: *turns around* NO FUCKING WAY. RIMINI’S.

Jeff: Yeah. I remember you sayin that you came to this bakery all the time. And that they had your favorite cookies in the world.

Y/n: Jeff. I haven't been here in 10 years. My grandpa would always take me here. I lived 5 minutes down the street.

Jeff: That’s why I brought you here. I knew how much it meant to you.

Y/n: I know you’re not proposing but I would’ve said yes in a millisecond. Now let’s go inside! I have to get their italian butter cookies and I’m bringing a bunch back to LA. I don’t know the next time I’ll  be able to come back.

Jeff: I mean, we’d be coming back quite often after the babies are born to visit my family.

Y/n: Okay but I’m still bringing a bunch back. You can’t get anything like this back in LA.

Jeff: But don’t go overboard w/ the sweets. You don’t want gestational diabetes.

Y/n: *death glares* You sayin I eat too much?

Jeff: No no no, you know what I mean.

Y/n: *pouts* But they taste so good :(

Jeff: Which means you should ration them as much as possible. Also, when we film for my channel, you might wanna hide these from Jonah.

Y/n: I swear to god if Jonah even THINKS about eating my damn cookies, I’m going to jail for manslaughter…

Jeff: Hun, what did I say about the anger. Don’t stress the girls out.

*Back at Jeff’s house*

Jeff’s dad: Well look who finally came back. We wanted to take you guys out but y’all left.

Jeff: Sorry pops, Y/n and I went to Brooklyn. She lived there until she was 11.

Jeff’s mom: Oh wow, I wouldn’t have guessed you were from New York too.

Y/n: Yeah, my parents moved my older siblings and I to Seattle because it was getting hard w/ the cost of living. Also, my grandfather passed away, so there wasn’t really any reason for us to stay there. My parent’s LOVED living here.

Jeff’s dad: Your parents are from New York too?  

Y/n: No. My parents immigrated from Peru. My dad came in the 70s as a teenager and went back and forth. My mom immigrated here in the 80s. They still have a bunch of friends here and they still know the city like they still live here.

Jeff’s mom: Why didn’t you invite them for Christmas in the city. I bet it would bring back so many good memories for them.

Y/n: *sighs* Well, we're kind of not talking at the moment… They were really disappointed when I told them I was pregnant. My older siblings are supportive though.

Karyn: Well that’s good that you have older siblings that will always look out for you. That’s why I give dumb dumb over there *points at Jeff* a hard time.

Jeff: What the fuck.

Karyn: They’ll come around eventually but even if it takes an eternity, just know that you have us now. We’re family! Even if Jeff somehow messes things up w/ you in the future.

Jeff: Ma can you tell her to stop!

Jeff’s mom: Karyn, stop bullying your brother.

Next chapter is CHRISTMAAAAS. (Don’t worry it’s already done. I won't post it for another couple of days) Also, some of the stuff in this chapter is kind of based on me. (Not the pregnant thing. I’ve never been pregnant lmao) But I was born in Brooklyn and the immigrant parents/ moving away thing is from my real life. (but not the moving away cause of grandpa. He was still alive for a couple years after.) But the cookies from Rimini’s… Will change your LIFE.

Comment if you want to be on the taglist!

Taglist: @elvlogsquad​​ @siemprestan​​ @zavidzobrik​​ @galxydefender​​ @iminlovewithenchilidadas​​ @ilsolee​​ @ranprivate​ @one-sweet-gubler​  @sunwardsss​ @shamalamashams​ @michellemxndes​

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek imagines #jeff wittek x reader #jeff wittek fanfic #jeff wittek fanfiction #jeff wittek smut #jeff wittek blurb #jeff wittek fluff #jeff wittek angst #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad imagines #the vlog squad #the vlog squad imagine #david dobrik #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik imagines #zane hijazi #todd smith #toddy smith #heath hussar #carly incontro #erin gilfoy #corinna kopf

[perennii]

Last Ones Out

sooo i wrote some angsty post 199 pre 200 fic!!! *rings a little bell* come get ur jmart while its hot! title from two slow dancers by mitski, which i highly recommend u listen to while u read for the ~spice~ (posting ao3 link in the reblogs!) enjoy!

Jon was used to being disregarded. His ideas, his thoughts, his feelings. But it didn’t make him feel any better when it did happen.

His idea to end the fears for good by putting the world out of its misery had been met with a venomous vitriol. Melanie, Basira, Georgie; they’d all shut down the plan with all the intensity of a car crash. Jon tried not to feel bitter about it, but it was hard; it seemed like they had all walked into the conversation with their agendas set. They weren’t willing to listen to him, when it was his own life they were all talking about. Even Martin, who Jon knew loved him more than anything, had treated his Jon’s decisions as if they were his to make. 

But they weren’t. In the end, it all came down to Jon, and him alone. It was his choice, just this once. The Web had manipulated him from childhood, pulling on the threads of his life to navigate him to the Magnus Archives. And then Jonah had come along for the ride, shoving Jon headfirst into a well of knowledge so deep he could never hope to see the bottom, leading him to that day in Scotland when the world had ended. On top of that, Jon had spent the whole apocalypse hearing the whole world cry out in horror, begging the pain to end. None of them understood what these Fears truly were in the way he did. None of them knew what it was like for the force of a malevolent god to live within your skin. It was Jon’s responsibility to make this choice, not anyone else. And he knew what he had to do, the only moral thing to do.

Jon’s choice was to end it. Gently, of course. Try and treat the world like a terminally ill child, lead it into a peaceful sleep that it wouldn’t wake up from. It was the only way to end the suffering of every human on earth without condemning a million other worlds to the same pain. It was the only good choice.

Jon didn’t know what would happen, exactly. For an entity of knowledge, the Eye seemed to lack knowledge when it counted the most. So he had no idea if when he killed the whole world, whether or not he would be left alone in its empty corpse. If Jon was alone though, so be it. He could deal with the loneliness of an eternity alone if it meant the Fears died.

The image of the whole world turned into a mass grave flashed across Jon’s mind. Jon shoved the image away. If he didn’t let the world die, the Fears would go torment some other world. Jon had made a lot of mistakes, guilts and burdens he carried with him like small chains attached to his soul. But he refused to let other people, countless people, deal with his choices any longer. He had already destroyed one world, he didn’t need to destroy another. He could end it all, now. 

Jon tried to keep that determination with him the night before he knew he’d have to kill the world. Melanie and Georgie had told everyone to take a few hours to rest, before they all went through with Annabelle’s plan. Jon and Martin had decided to head down to where the Archives had been, back when the Panopticon had been the Institute, a stuffy house for supernatural horrors rather than the apocalyptic watchtower of a whole world. 

Martin had even managed to find his old cot, hidden in some random drawer somewhere. Jon wondered if it had Martin’s indents still, then Knew it did. Jon knew that those indents had only been made a few years ago, when Martin had slept in the Archives with a corkscrew by his side, but it felt like Jane Prentiss had happened a thousand years ago. With time the way it was now, stretched and twisted like saltwater taffy, maybe it had been.

“You, uh, want to take the bed together?” Martin asked sweetly, pulling out the cot and patting the side of it for Jon to lie down. 

Jon thought about how it might make it harder for him to slip away when he needed to. He’d have to leave while Martin was asleep, and Jon didn’t want to wake him up and be stopped from doing what needed to be done. But Jon knew that either way tonight could go, following his plan or Annabelle’s, that this was likely to be the last night he had with Martin. Jon didn’t want to miss one last chance to let Martin know how much he loved him. 

So Jon nodded, and let Martin move over on the cot so he could lie down with him. The cot was too small for both of them to lie down on their backs side to side, so Jon curled up in Martin’s soft embrace. The lights in the Archive had broken down to the point that they were orange now, instead of the harsh white lighting that had illuminated the Archives in Jon and Martin’s early days. Jon remarked that it almost looked like a sunset. Fitting. 

Still, guilt ate at Jon. He knew he was making the right choice, but he knew he would be letting Martin down in the process. Even if Martin never knew, Jon would know he had broken his promise. And it was slowly eating at him, his heart feeling like it was being slowly lowered into a vat of acid. Jon tried to ignore it though, and just take one last moment to breathe.

Down here, away from the Panopticon, away from the view of the ragged mess the world had become after his words, Jon could almost pretend it was Before. Before, when lying here in this cot with Martin could only have happened in his wildest fantasies, but when the world outside the Archives still existed. If Jon closed his eyes and pushed away the background noise of horror that always played in his mind, he could even pretend he was back in Scotland. Scotland, where he and Martin had fallen asleep on the couch a few times, lulled by the warm fireplace and crickets chirping outside the window. Here, there was no fireplace, and no crickets. There wasn’t even the luxury of a living, vivid world located out of the Archive doors. But there was Martin, and for Jon, that was enough. 

“Martin?” Jon asked softly.

“Yeah?” Martin replied, looking Jon in the eye. Jon felt himself melt under Martin’s gaze, and considered biting back the question he wanted to ask in favor of something lighter, something befitting this wonderful moment. But if he was going to go up, he needed to know something with absolute certainty.

“Martin, do you think Annabelle’s plan is actually going to work?”

Martin seemed taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean by that, Jon?”

“I mean, do you think Annabelle might just be lying?” “Why would she do that?”

Jon sighed, and deadpanned, “Do I need to outline all the reasons a literal avatar of the Web might want to lie for their own gain? Let alone Annabelle?”

Martin sighed. “Point taken. But what other options do we have?”

Jon bit back his retort, that they could go with his plan instead, and decided to counter Martin with another question.

“Still doesn’t answer my question. What if it doesn’t work? What do we do then, Martin?”

“We can’t think like that, though. We-we have to believe it’s going to work”

“But how, Martin? How can you truly believe that?”

“Because if I don’t, then that means it all comes down to you becoming a literal god. Which would mean losing you, Jon. And I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.”

Jon sighed fondly. Of course. Martin wanted to save the world, but also wanted Jon to live. Martin, wanting it all, wanting everything to be wrapped in a bow neat and tidy. It was why Jon had fallen in love with Martin: he’d always had hope, in the end, even when Jon had felt like his hope had been sucked from the very marrow of his bones. 

Jon let him win this argument. As a final gift, Jon let Martin have his hope. Ideally, if everything went right, Martin could hold onto that hope until the moment he died. 

“Alright, Martin. Alright.”

Jon and Martin sat in silence for a bit, just holding each other. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye, though they knew now was the moment. Jon felt his mind drift to the night before the Unknowing. All the things he had wished he’d said, all the time he had wasted that night. The regrets that Jon always carried with him at the thought he might forget to say something to Martin, before it was all over. 

The air hung heavy with the unsaid goodbyes, the unshed tears. Humans are bad at acknowledging loss when it’s happened. They’re even worse at acknowledging a loss yet to come. It’s a defense mechanism against the prospect of death: the human mind pushes it away, again and again, even when it’s knocking at the door. Even when it’s too late to say goodbye. Even when it’s too late to say I love you. 

Instead of saying goodbye, Jon asked Martin a final question.

“Martin? When did you fall in love with me?”

Martin laughed a bit before replying, “Jon, you already know this.”

“I know, but I want to hear it again.”

Jon peppered Martin’s face with kisses, Martin giggling gleefully. The red in his cheeks made his freckles stand out against his skin, like tiny stars. Jon drank in the image of Martin, smiling and happy. After a few rounds of kisses, Martin happily relented. 

“Alright, alright. It was the moment, with the dog.”

“Cocker spaniel”

“Yeah, ha. ‘Like, in general?’ It was too cute, I was gone for you.”

Jon and Martin laughed together. Then Martin paused, and continued. 

“But that’s not the whole story, Jon.”

Jon startled a bit. He had promised not to look in Martin’s head, so Martin had a rare honor: he could tell Jon things he didn’t know himself. Jon expected it to happen sometimes, but it never felt less surprising.

“Then what is the whole story, Martin?” Jon asked. For Martin had never gone past the dog before. 

“Well, I think the moment you’re looking for right now...the moment I fell in love with you? It...it was after Jane Prentiss. After being stuck in my apartment for two weeks. I went to you, an absolute mess, and well… you got tons of CO2, and let me sleep down here. Down in the Archives. You made me feel safe, Jon. I think that was the moment I started entertaining real feelings for you.”

“Oh Martin”

“But enough about my feelings. When did...when did you fall in love with me?”

Jon tried to think about how to answer. The question already answered itself, in a way: love was like falling, not a moment of time but a stretch of moments, little things piling up into a singular want for another person. But Jon knew that what Martin wanted to know was the moment that Jon decided to jump off the metaphorical cliff. When he was willing to acknowledge his feelings. 

“I think it was when you were with Peter Lukas. You know the phrase, absence makes the heart grow fonder? It was that. It was when you were gone, that I realized the space you took up in my life.”

“Anchors..”

“Yes, exactly. You were my anchor, and when you were gone-”

“Oh Jon…”

Martin held Jon a little bit closer, and in response Jon rubbed comforting circles across the back of Martin’s hand.

“It’s alright.” Jon replied. “It let me know...it made me realize how much you mattered to me. That was the moment, when it all made sense. When I knew I was in love with you, Martin.”

A terrible fondness swept through Jon’s body as he looked in Martin’s eyes. Jon wanted to memorize every last part of Martin’s face, every loose freckle, every flyaway hair, every wrinkle, every mark. Jon Knew he didn’t have enough time, that they needed to get some rest. He Knew he had to leave. 

So Jon satisfied himself with one last examination of Martin’s mouth. He pulled Martin into a kiss, long and deep and soft and lovely. They kissed and held each other, at the end of the world, at the end of their world. The end of it all, whether they won or not. 

“Martin.” Jon asked. They’d stopped kissing a while ago, and were now holding each other in a silence as delicate as glass crystal. 

“Jon?” Martin whispered, his voice starting to become softer at the edges.

Jon thought to himself that Martin must be tired, that it might be a mercy to let him go to sleep. But Jon wanted to make sure nothing was left unsaid. 

“You know I love you, Martin, right?”

Martin smiled sleepily. “ ‘Course I do”

“And that no matter what happens, that I’ll love you? That I love you?”

“Oh Jon.”

Martin pulled Jon a bit closer to his chest, so close Jon could hear his heartbeat. It took everything in Jon not to wail at that moment, when he knew he was hearing that fragile rhythm for the last time.

“Jon,” Martin murmured, his voice sleep heavy and unbearably soft, “No matter what happens, I’ll love you. All I’m saying is, we can’t give up on the world before we try. There has to be something we can do. And beyond that, y’know. It doesn’t always have to be you. It doesn’t always have to be you, making a choice alone to sacrifice yourself. We can do it together. We can fix all this together.”

That was the moment Jon began to cry. For therein lay the problem: if Jon wanted to actually fix things, to kill the Entities once and for all, he had to do it alone. Like every other horrible decision in Jon’s life, it all came down to him.

Jon expected Martin to offer him empty promises of fixing the world when he began to cry, but Martin didn’t. He just wrapped his arms tightly around Jon, and let Jon’s tears soak his world weathered sweater. Somehow, Jon could still smell a bit of the safehouse on it: fresh breezes, flowers, burning wood. It smelled like home, it smelled like Martin. 

Jon wept.

When Jon felt his tears subside, he felt Martin’s body begin to soften. Jon knew this was it. This was goodbye.

Jon wanted to say I love you one more time. Jon wanted to look Martin in the eye, and tell him every reason he was incredible, every reason Jon didn’t deserve to be near him, let alone with him. To make Martin feel safe and loved as he fell asleep for the final time.

But Jon knew he didn’t need words in this moment. All he needed was a pair of arms, holding Martin’s hands. All he needed was a pair of eyes, watching Martin’s breaths even out, whooshing in and out like waves upon a shore. Jon let himself be washed away for a moment, by the tide of Martin’s breaths. In that moment, in the Archives where it felt like a perpetual sunset, Jon watched Martin fall asleep.

Martin hadn’t needed to say I love you in words. There are some ways to say I love you that go beyond words. Falling asleep with someone in your arms is one of them. When you fall asleep, you are opening yourself to the world. To take the time to hold someone, protect someone else, when you are about to become vulnerable; that’s love. That’s a million I love yous, packaged in one perfect gesture. And Jon knew that.

So Jon let Martin fall asleep holding him, and Jon let himself be held for one last time. 

Jon was much better at leaving people’s lives than staying in them. For so long, Jon had decided that he didn’t need other people, that he could go it alone and be fine. As a result, Jon was very good at cutting ties; ruthless independence couldn’t exist if another person was in the equation, after all. So Jon carefully extricated himself from the warmth Martin’s arms, without even a sniff of discontent from Martin. 

Jon carefully stood up, and looked down at Martin. He was deeply asleep, his face open and relaxed. Jon tried to imagine that this Martin was the Martin he had first seen running around the Archives, looking for a lost dog. But no, it wasn’t. This Martin, despite his open expression, slightly tensed his shoulders, as if he subconsciously expected to be woken up to some great disaster. This Martin was scarred, small white scratches of small cuts that never healed right; for all that Martin tried to take care of Jon, he never took care of himself. This Martin had great whorls of white swirled around the hair on top of his head, his time in the Lonely leaving a permanent mark on his body. Jon hadn’t fallen deeply in love with the man who’d been searching for a dog. No, Jon had fallen in love with the man sleeping in front of him. 

Jon let himself have one last indulgence before heading up the Panopticon. He leaned over above, the cot, and tenderly kissed Martin’s forehead. Jon saw Martin smile in his sleep, and Jon smiled as well. This was for the best. This was the best goodbye Jon could offer. 

Jon crept out of the room, and opened the door to the Archives. Jon paused in the doorframe, and looked back at the Archives, at Martin, for one last time. The sunset lighting illuminated Martin, making him look like a candle amidst the darkness. Martin, his Martin. 

“I love you.” Jom whispered, hoping that somehow, Martin would hear it. Then, Jon closed the door. 

There was no time left to cry, even though every part of Jon wanted to cry at this moment. No, Jon Knew he had little time left. If he was going to do it, if he was going to end the world, he needed to do it now.

So Jon started the long trek up to the Panopticon. He walked up and out of where the Institute had been, to the Panopticon proper. Jon gazed up the massive spiral staircase that led to the top of the Panopticon, to the chamber where Jonah Magnus was transfixed at the heart of the Eye’s gaze. Then, Jon began to climb. He could see the whole world stretched out before him as he ascended the staircase. A whole world of horror that he was about to put an end to. 

As Jon climbed up, he let one more thought cross his mind, one he hadn’t let himself dwell on before. There was one more reason Jon wanted to do this when Martin was asleep. It wasn’t just so he wouldn’t be stopped. No, there was another reason too. 

Jon didn’t know if it would be painful when he pushed the world toward its end. He didn’t know if his actions would cause one last scream of agony from the world, before it was dragged into the dark. Jon wanted to do it when Martin was asleep, to protect him one final time. Maybe if he was asleep, Martin wouldn’t feel his end coming for him, with all the inevitability of a subway train in an underground tunnel. Maybe he wouldn’t feel any pain. Maybe he could just fall asleep without ever waking up. 

This thought kept Jon company as he finally made it to the top of the stairs, so close to Jonah he could hear his chanting. That is when Jon tossed the thought away, let it rest. It was like Georgie said; he’d made his decision, and now he needed to live with it. 

So Jon walked into the Panopticon, knowing what he needed to do. He prayed he’d be able to live with his decision. 

#tma #yale speaks #my writing #tma spoilers #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #god this destroyed me to write