#anyways i think it’s funny how elias��� whole thing is that he tries to distance himself from his family image and tries really hard to Not

[simcardiac-arrested]

wait, that elias?

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 5

Hello readers :) Just one chapter tonight but it's just shy of 4k words so hopefully it will do fine :)

so... bit of angst coming. Apologies there is a bit of fluff too but not what you hope. Please don't hate Elias. He is my secret weapon to bring our two idiots together. So just be nice to him.

Fun facts: 1. I adore Roald Dahl like our trio. 2. The scene at Luskentyre with the dark clouds and the savage rain. Been there done that. Luckily I saw it in the sun as well. 3. I hug standing stones. I am a serial hugger. Hugged the ones at Callanish and have a few photos of me hugging stones in Orkney as well.

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

A week had passed.

Rowan opened the bookshop on time as usual. Switched on the lights and the computer and went to the back and dragged to the counter the bulky box containing the orders that had arrived the previous night.

Once he cracked the box open he realised Aelin’s was at the top, staring at him. He sighed, took the book and sat on the stool behind his counter. For a whole week he hated himself for what he said to her. He had definitely gone too far and he had to find a way to apologise and make it up to her for his dreadful behaviour.

Gently he flipped the book in his hands and read a couple of random pages and smiled. He was positive she was going to love the last book in the series and a part of him was quite eager to discuss the book with her.

He had read the series a long time ago and loved it. Flipping through the pages he found some of the lines he loved and a tenuous smile appeared on his face at the thought that Aelin reminded him so much the female main character in the book. 

Both of them had fire in them.

He hadn’t seen her in a week and Maeve told him that she hadn’t been at the coffee shop either.

His aunt’s words still haunted him. She is just as lost as you are.

What could have happened to her? She always appeared to him as full of life and quite energetic, but he guessed that might be a mask she would wear for stranger, for people who were not close to her. He wanted to meet the real Aelin, problems at all. He thought pondered on his aunt’s words. What if she really was the key to get out of the funk he had been stuck for a while? What if he could help her as well? He admitted that he wanted to be his friend and he was going to prove it to her.

Deep down though he knew he had another reason, a bit more selfish. He found her attractive. More than that. The first day in the shop she had taken his breath away. And she loved books probably just as much as he did. Something that Lyria… no. He was not going there. 

He closed his eyes and tried to picture Aelin. Her funny attempts to use Gaelic gave him fuzzy feelings. 

He had spent a week mulling and thinking about her. He could not stop doing that. She had made him feel again. But the idea terrified him. He had committed completely to a woman once. He gave her all of him, his love, trust, respect and heart. And she destroyed everything. He sighed and put the book on the shelf behind him where he kept all the orders to be collected. He had to find a way to tell her her book was here. In his anger he forgot to take her phone number or address and now he was stuck. He only had to hope that she would remember and pop in in the shop. If he could see her one more time and apologise…

He was busy unpacking when the bell rang and a dark-haired man entered the shop.

“Good morning, can I help you?”

The man looked at him and smiled “Yes, definitely. I am looking for a book. Something on Callanish.” He explained looking around the shop with interest “It’s for a woman. It’s a present. She is new here and I would like to give her a welcome to the islands present. She just visited Callanish for the first time and she loved it.”

Rowan felt sick for a moment. Was that guy talking about Aelin? Because the description sounded very similar. Sadness hit him. So she was doing fine after all. She did not need him.

“I have a nice selection. Ranging form the usual tourist guide to something more fascinating and historical.” And he showed the guy the books. The stranger took one of the bigger ones. One of his favourites.

“That is a great one.” He added pointing at the one the guy was holding in his hands “It has info about the archeological excavations, theories about its use and it connects to the mythology as well. It’s quite complete. Your friend will love it.”

The man smiled again and kept the book.

“Can I just have a look around?”

Rowan nodded keeping an eye on the man. Could it be that he was talking about Aelin? He did his best to convince himself that it was just a coincidence. It had to be. But sadness struck anyway. He had planned to  get that book for Aelin. He was positive she would have adored it. And now chances were another man was going to give it to her.

The man came back with a second book. A colouring book of the Hebrides “I have a feeling Aelin will love them.”

Rowan stopped. His world froze. And his heart was beating furiously in his chest.

“She is a lucky woman.” Rowan forced himself to say. “Would you like me to wrap them since it’s a present.”

“That would be amazing if it’s not too much trouble.”

Rowan took a deep breath and steadied his hands.

“You have a great place here. And I love your Roald Dahl display.”

Those words stung. That was one of the first things Aelin had said to him.

“Big fan.” Was all that Rowan managed ignoring the roaring fury rising in him. At his stupidity. His bad temper. That could have been him if only he had been able to control himself and be nice for once in his life.

“When I was little I was obsessed with James and the Giant Peach.” The man continued while Rowan was working on wrapping the books. He had a feeling that Aelin was a big fan of Matilda.

“Here we go.” Rowan passed the present to the man.

The stranger paid and left the shop.

Rowan sat in silence for a while then stood, turned the sign of the shop to closed, switched off the lights, locked the door and went home.

All of a sudden he did not feel in the mood anymore to deal with people.

He grabbed his car and drove in silence until he reached his favourite spot on the islands. He went to the Butt of Lewis, sat on the edge of the cliff and admired the sea raging against the cliffs, mirroring perfectly his current mood.

Aelin had taken a day off from exploring. She had driven a lot the previous days and she needed a break from here car. She had gone back to Luskentyre, however this time she was not so lucky with the weather. An horrible storm had hit once there. And still, the place was stunning. The dark clouds heavy with rain seemed to enhance the blues and green of the water. A strange light had embraced the bay and the sand appeared even whiter. Then the rain hit and she thought she had never seen a rainstorm so brutal. She had stayed in the car and waited it out. Being Scotland, the weather was very changeable and ten minutes later the sun was out and the most amazing rainbow arched across the beach. Not a single one of her photo did any justice to the beauty in front of her.

She was now wandering around Stornoway and convinced herself to go to Rowan’s shop. It had been a week and her book should have arrived. The last one had ended in an epic cliffhanger and now she needed to know. It was a matter of life or death.

She turned the corner and a strange feeling overcame her when she noticed the lights off. At the entrance door a sign said Dùinte and underneath Closed in English. It was almost noon, how was it possible it was closed? Rowan was punctual to a fault. Was he sick? She wished she had his mobile number to get in touch with him. 

She was worried. 

But most of all she realised she missed him. Yes, they barely knew each other and they didn’t have the best of the beginnings, but still…

She sighed and walked away.

In that instant Elias texted her. She had caved in the end and texted him. They had started chatting. That morning he had told her that he was in town and they agreed to meet.

He was waiting for her at the parking near the ferry terminal. She tucked her sadness away and walked toward the terminal.

She had debated every day since she gave Elias her number if she had done the right thing. 

She clearly felt something for Rowan. What it was, she still wasn’t sure. And although he had been grumpy and they fought, something about him resonated within her. As if his soul somehow called out to hers. 

The rational part of her quickly rejected the idea as the twisted and unachievable idea of love that her books had given her over the years.

Human’s relationships were nothing but pain. 

For a moment she argued to herself that for some inexplicable reason his soul had somehow resonated with Rowan’s. That if they were in a book instead, someone would have pointed out that the pining was due to them being soulmates.

A minute later after that thought she snorted loudly.

They were everything but. They weren’t even friends. 

What about enemies to lovers? She snorted again and closed the distance to where Elias was waiting for her.

There were more chances of Rowan strangling her than them becoming friends.

All that mental gymnastics to convince herself that texting Elias was good. That she was not betraying Rowan.

But at the same time she felt a horrible person. She had no idea what she wanted from Elias. She was not ready yet to commit again. But still, she didn’t want to mislead him. He seemed such a nice guy. Hurting was the last thing she wanted to do to him.

Aelin finally arrived at the car park and saw him. He was as tall as Rowan. He was standing beside his car. Sunglasses on his head, dark shorts, a light blue polo shirt hugged his upper body nicely and she could not force her gaze away from him. He was stunning.

But he is not Rowan a voice said in her head and she told it to shut up.

“Hello.” He waved at her and she noticed his bright smile and his two dimples make their appearance. She had forgotten his smile.

“Hey.” She said joining him near his car “Nice car by the way. Being an engineer must pay really well.” She joked and hoped she hadn’t gone too far as her usual.

“Love a woman with a good taste in cars. It’s a Tesla. Cost me a kidney but this baby it’s worth it.”

“Of course you get a Tesla. You are an environmental engineer so an electric car makes sense. If you were a book character you’d be considered perfectly in character.”

Elias laughed loudly at the joke. Then he opened the door, and grabbed something from the car “For you. A welcome to the islands gift.”

Aelin took the present and froze when she noticed the sticker on top. The present came from Rowan’s bookshop. All of a sudden she forgot how to breath. At least she did manage to hide her shaky hands from Elias.

She opened the present and squealed in delight when she noticed the book about Callanish and underneath a colouring book. She put the second on the roof of the car and opened the first one. Inside the dust jacket she noticed a small note. That, definitely did not belong there. The calligraphy was neat Your book is here. I guess you want to know what happens after the cliffhanger. Then at the bottom of the note I am sorry. R.

How did he know that Elias was giving her the book? A wave of panic hit her.

Sneakily she hid the note from Elias and pretended to browse the book, but her mind kept going back to Rowan’s message. Her heart was hammering in her chest, so much that it almost hurt. The words I am sorry resonating in her head like an echo.

“Glad you loved the books. I forgot there was a nice bookshop in town. I got it from there. The one about Callanish came with a recommendation from the owner.” Aelin felt like crying. She was just picturing Rowan helping Elias pick the book for her. Why was she feeling like that for a man who had clearly told her that she meant nothing to him? Why was she caring so much?

Had Lysandra been there she would have told her to drop the grumpy guy and take the nice one. 

She stretched and gave Elias a little peck on the cheek “Thank you. They are perfect. Now I just need some pencils for the colouring book.”

“That, we can fix easily.” Elias went around the car and opened the other door for her “Hop in.”

Aelin looked at him puzzled “I thought we were staying in town.”

“No way, there is still so much for you to see.”

“I am in a Tesla.” She commented ecstatic and noticed Elias grinning. “I don’t have car. In London it’s a nightmare. Traffic is horrendous and parking near my house is just non existent. Luckily the tube takes me to work easily.”

“On the islands the only traffic jam you experience is cattle, sheep and the annoying tourists driving motorhomes where they shouldn’t and going at a slow pace because they have to take a photo of every single piece of grass.”

Aelin laughed “I got stuck in the middle of a flock of sheep the other day. I was along the Golden Road.”

“Well, that was your baptism of fire and you passed it.”

Half an hour later they were crossing a bridge. Elias explained to her that they were heading for Great Bernera. As soon as they cleared the bridge he pulled over and parked the car at the small picnic area. She got out and stood immobile for a moment to take in the beauty of the landscape.all around her. Then Elias grabbed her hand and he pulled toward the left. She looked up and she noticed some standing stones and she felt giddy.

“Come on.”

They climbed the short path and they reached the stones.

Aelin went to hug them and she made Elias laugh out loud “that is a very unusual reaction.” Then he took his  phone and took a photo “Now I can bribe you until eternity.”

Aelin dismissed him with a rude gesture and kept hugging the stone.

“You are hugging Callanish VIII.”

Aelin gasped in surprise.

“This place is quite peculiar. It is a semi circle and not a full circle and according to the archaeologists it was never a full circle. No one knows what it was for. However, according to the local folklore, due to its strange configuration and location, on a calm winter day when the sun is low a strange experience might occur. If you walk between the tall stone and the water a double shadow is cast on the stone. One shadow is produced by the sun and the other by the sun’s reflection on the water.” He explained, his gaze fixed on the horizon. 

“I tried plenty of times but no luck.”

He walked behind her and tugged her to his chest, leaning his chin on her shoulder. Elias then took her hand and pointed “There,” he said “over there you have Callanish. The main site.”

She leaned against his hard chest and took comfort in the nice feeling.

“That is so awesome.”

“I am pretty sure your book will have a part about these stones.” His breath was gentle against her ear and she shivered in pleasure at the feeling.

“Let’s go. We haven’t reached our final destination yet.” He moved away and for a brief second she missed the warmth of his body against hers.

They got back in the car and they drove for a bit longer. The road was narrow but Elias drove with the experience of a local and she felt pretty safe. 

They finally reached a parking area and she was ready to get out again.

“The islands are quite amazing for their historical sites.” He started, offering his hand to her.

She took it and he smiled tenderly. His thumb gently brushing the top of her hand.

“Are you ready for a visit to the iron age?”

They walked in silence for a short stretch along the wall of a cemetery and then she noticed the Iron Age house. Elias paid the pound to get into the house, but she was more interested in the stunning beach she had spotted at the end of the path. Once out of the house she took running toward the beach and Elias followed until he grabbed at her waist “You ungrateful witch. I am showing you an historical site and all you care is the beach.”

Aelin laughed and turned to him, their faces dangerously close “Sorry, but the beach looks soooooo amazing”

Elias let her go and playfully pushed her away “Go. Have fun.”

She smiled at him and walked toward the beach, removed her shoes and walked in the water. That had become her ritual.

Bosta beach was another gem. A hidden one, it looked like.

Elias joined her in the water and stood beside her, their arms touching “When I was young, my brother and I used to come here and kayak. See the islands in front of us?” He pointed and Aelin nodded “That is little Bernera. The only way to get there is by boat. On the the side there is a beach that is something out of this world. Untouched. Pristine. With waters of colours so bright that they might not be real.”

She turned to him and looked at Elias in the eyes. And they were bright, full of joy

“You have a childish streak.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“No, that came out wrong. What I meant is that you seem to tackle life with the same joy a kid does. The way you hugged the stone, or how you run just now or your face when you saw the books. It’s contagious.” With a hand he caressed her face.

She should pull away and break that contact, but she couldn’t because she realised she missed it. So in the end she leaned into his touch, basking in the feeling of his hand on her cheek.

“Tha thu bóidheach…” he whispered “You are beautiful.” He repeated in English.

Aelin broke the contact and went to sit down on the sand. She needed a moment to collect herself. To unravel the set of conflicted emotions battling inside her.

In front of her there was Elias. A wonderful man who seemed quite keen to be in her company. Who was intelligent and fascinating and sweet. A man capable of making her heart race madly. He was perfect. He was handsome. Unbelievably so. And then there was Rowan. Who was… maddening. They were nothing and no chance of their status changing anytime soon.

She sighed.

Elias sat beside her “did I do something wrong?” His blue eyes fixed on her “What I said and did… sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Aelin shook her head. He was considerate and with his face mere centimetres from hers she realised she just wanted to kiss him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she explained and wondered if it was the time to open up to someone else. But Maeve’s word replayed in her head. You can help each other. He is stuck too. She wanted to open up to Rowan. According to Maeve he was suffering for something too. She wanted him to open up to her. She knew it felt wrong. She could not open up to Elias. That was something that belonged to Rowan. Of that she was sure.

“I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Are you seriously telling me that in the whole of London there is not a single man who’d consider himself lucky to have you?”

“I can be a handful.”

“My brother has three kids under the age of ten. I can handle handful. Believe me.”

Aelin laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder “And why a guy like you is single?”

“The missus had a side thing with her boss. They eloped. She got pregnant and now she lives the grand life in Edinburgh with the money she got from the divorce and got stuck with the kid. He was rich. Filthy rich and she just wiped him clean.”

“And you were married to her?”

“Oh yeah. I was young and stupid. We lasted two years.”

“Probably you didn’t earn enough big bucks.”

Elias laughed genuinely “Aye, I was a poor nobody compared to her second husband.”

“Her loss,” Aelin added.

He tuned his head surprised by that remark. His face inched closer and hesitated for a second, then finally kissed her

Aelin resisted him for a moment, but then she melted in the kiss. His lips were soft. The kiss started gentle but then it got harder and she could feel need seeping from it.

His hands went to her back and slowly pushed her on the sand on her back. Aelin run her hands in his hair and pulled him closer.

She nibbled his lower lip and the sound he made awoke something at her core. His hands slid to her sides and he traced the length of her body. She closed her eyes and froze. A pair of green eyes appeared in her vision. Rowan’s face floated in front of her and she froze. She sat up quickly.

“Not on the beach near a tourist attraction.” She stood and patted the sand away from her clothes using it as an excuse to put some distance between them. 

Slowly she gathered the courage to look at him and she saw hurt in his blue eyes.

“You are right. Being arrested for sex in public is not in my today’s plan.” And the dimples came back.

“I am sorry I…” she fumbled.

He got closer and kissed tenderly on her lips “No need to apologise.” Then he patted her hair. “You are covered in sand.”

In silence they walked back to the car and even on the journey home she struggled to say more than a few words. She held her book on her legs and kept thinking at the message inside and how she will face Rowan the next day.

“I can drop you off at your place.”

“No, the car park is fine. It’s a nice evening. I don’t mind the stroll.”

“Ok, mo charaid.”

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him “Thank you for the books and for today. I had so much fun.”

“Me too,” he kissed her back.

Aelin broke the kiss and left the car. He got out and leaned on the roof “Text me.”

“I will do, mo charaid”

Elias laughed “you are so sexy when you try to speak Gaelic.”

Aelin blew him a kiss and walked away.

When she was almost home she leaned against the small wall separating the road from the marina and looked toward the town. To the spot where Rowan’s shop was.

And wondered what he was doing.

Wondered if he missed her as well.

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

Soooooo~! We heard what Roman thought about the caravan people, what about Virgil? You must have liked some other people than Missy and Jester over there!

(Virgil hums for a minute, thinking back to the travelling troupe he's spent so much time with. Not the kind of people he thought he'd be associating with on the surface, but Remus takes you strange places... He grimaces, but you get the feeling it's just for show.)

(The more he thinks about them, the more fond he sounds, like he's forgetting he has an audience while he muses about the troupe...)

Virgil: Hmm… not much to say, really. Most of them either hated and distrusted me at first, or still do, which is valid. And I’m closer with the kids then some of the adults, since I spent so much time herding them around during shows…

Virgil: Somiza’s alright. Kind, but keeps her distance. She’s good with people, and smarter than she acts… EV’s cool as shit, we understand each other just fine. --Of course I’m fond of them, I wouldn’t have left Missy and Jester with them if I wasn’t! They’re good moms...

Virgil: Tamaris is… fine? We flirt occasionally, but when do I not… He was one of the first to start trusting me besides EV, so that was cool, if misguided of him. Pryce… is pretty much the exact same. Pretty face, trusts way too quickly, annoying, but doable. Vanessa keeps her distance, cause she can tell I’m not very social, which I appreciate. And Jester and Missy are very fond of her, so I can’t hate her. Moira is much the same way -- stays out of my way, I stay out of hers. She got mad when she found out I couldn’t read, wants to teach me. I said no, obviously.

Virgil: Milo and Elias… I don’t talk to them much. Elias is much closer to Remus than me, and Milo took a long time to warm up to all three of us. Honestly, he, EV, and Lorilla might be the only things keeping that group alive… But those two always seem to catch me when I’m trying to avoid sleep. Elias is much more chill about it, he’ll just sit with me and talk, or wait out the longer hours. Milo will try to trick me into sleeping with milk and honey, because he was ‘totally making some for himself anyway’, but he’s a liar and a bastard and I can’t believe I keep falling for that damn trick… I don’t know, something about his whole shit is...calming? He’s what I imagine people mean when they describe surface “dad”s to me.

Virgil: Lorilla earned my respect, for sure. Last to trust me, knows her way around a weapon, hunts and tracks well, tamed a fucking bear. We’re...about as friendly as I let people get. She’s protective of the kids too, and Missy and Jester really like her, so… We’re very alike. And usually that irritates the shit out of me, but she’s not annoying, so it’s fine.

Virgil: Raena had a pretty violent reaction to me at first too, but she had a very good reason: She’s escaped from Luihaun'athar, just like me, and… well, let’s say it’s not too hard to recognize a Blackguard when you see one. It took a bit to convince her I wasn’t out for blood, but we get along fine now. We play Sava sometimes, since she has the board, even if we’re both bat-shit awful at it… Not much to say about Dario. Respects me, keeps his distance. Which is nice, as always. Theta’s still pretty scared of me, but he’s generally nice to the kids, as long as they’re not putting him through the ringer…

Virgil: And there’s a new one in the past few years, Brian. She’s a literal fairy. Like, less-than-a-foot-tall flying dragonfly person. Bri-anne, but spelled dumb, because she’s a fairy and she changes her given name every two minutes based on the funniest one she can come up with at the time. She’s funny; the kind of funny that gets old fast, though Remus swears I’m wrong about that… Supposedly, she was in the troupe years ago, and just left for a bit. I’d say I wish she stayed gone, but I’m scared she’ll materialize and fuck with me for it...

(Virgil smirks slightly at himself, then shakes his head, biting back a smile,)

Virgil: Then there’s the kids. I’ve probably spent the most time just babysitting them, which… I don’t hate doing. They’re good kids, if ridiculously reckless.

Virgil: The twins… Lea is probably the second most energetic, following Missy. Blunt, distrustful, rages against the system and adults, a real fucking punk. She’s fantastic, I adore her. Her sister’s a lot quieter, and we aren’t as close, but she listens to me. Respectful, but fragile… But, she’s always got Lea attached to her hip, so she’s fine for now.

Virgil: Yuuto’s a good kid, Roman’s just dumb. He, Lea, and my two can get into some trouble if they’re left alone together, but they’re just kids expressing themselves. He spends a lot of time with Jester, and I don’t always know a crush when I see one, but he’s a bit obvious... And Cyrus is a sweet kid. When he was little, he seemed to instantly form a crush on any dude he saw. He hit on me too, and Pryce “helped” him, which was a total shitshow… He’s much more chill now, showed real interest in my kind of work. I taught him to pick locks and steal, which everyone else thinks was a massive mistake, but it’s only ever been hilarious from my point of view~

Virgil: Peia’s the youngest -- still a toddler -- and I’m her favorite, obviously, because she has good taste. She freaks Dee and Remus out, which is always funny… I’m fucking soft for that little kid, I’m not even mad about it. EV and Somiza trusted me to watch her while they do the show, and she wouldn’t let me put her down, and she wasn’t even scared of Charlotte? She’s a little fucking badass! --When she catches me sitting down, she tries to sneak up behind me and jump on me. I let her think she’s quiet enough to catch me off guard, because she needs the training... And I am not about to let her down, are you shitting me??

Virgil: And then, there’s Missy and Jester… Well, you know how I feel about them. Little bastards, spawn of satan, ruined my life, I wish them nothing but pain. ...That’s a joke, obviously. I would kill for those kids-- And they’re still kids, goddamnit, I don’t care how big they get. They’ll be eight forever, and you can tell them I said so.

[voiceless-terror]

Interlude (The Magnus Archives)

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Mikaele Salesa, Annabelle Cane

CW: Mental Deterioration/Memory Loss, Some Fluff but Mostly Angst, Spoilers for 181

This is not a home.

Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it’s the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. He likes it.

_______

Jon wakes up to a smile.

It is Martin, looking peaceful and well-rested for once. It cuts through the hazy fog of his mind and lands somewhere near his heart. He deserves a break, doesn’t he? He can see the grime etched into the lines on his face- lines that shouldn’t be there, lines that he caused. Outside the birds chirp and a breeze rustles the trees. This is not a home, but maybe they can play at it. An interlude.

The rooms are luxurious. Martin stretches and pours tea from an elaborate set provided by Annabelle. Jon is thirsty and hungry but he’s not going to take anything from a spider unless he absolutely needs to. Martin disagrees, and Jon doesn’t stop him. It’s probably fine.

There’s a lovely clawfoot tub, barely big enough for two but they make it work. Martin lovingly works through his hair, sorting out tangles and scratching lightly at his scalp. Jon aches with nostalgia, remembering the days of the cabin when Martin had first tentatively touched him after months of the Lonely. They were always touching after that- holding a hand here and leaning against a shoulder there. When Jon ruined everything the touches turned desperate, like clinging to a buoy in a storm. Martin pours tea but the tea isn’t tea it’s spiders-

“Jon?” 

He blinks. Martin has a hand on his shoulder. He’s relaxed, utterly at ease. They’re in Upton House. “You went away for a moment there. Still tired, eh? Me too.”

This is not a home.

When they’re clean and dressed in freshly-laundered clothes, Annabelle arrives. Creeping in the doorway, pointing them to a pantry and telling them to “make themselves at home.” They wait until she leaves to check it out. Jon follows Martin. He has already forgotten the way.

“Look at all of this, Jon! It’s like they raided a gourmet,” Martin scans the stacks, picking things up at random. He’s smiling so wide. Jon thinks it is the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. “What should we have?”

“Hmm.”

“Enlightening,” Martin rolls his eyes but is good-natured as ever. “How about some fruit?” He picks up an apple and holds it out enticingly. “Looks good!” he tempts with a sing-song voice. Jon doesn’t take it and Martin sighs. “Look, it’s only polite.”

“You can have some,” Jon replies. “I’d rather not.”

“You’ll have to eat sometime,” Martin says, taking a bite. “Time works differently here, I think.”

“Hm.”

There is opera playing somewhere in the distance. The house is so big the sound only reaches them in echoes. How long have they been here? His grandmother used to play opera while she cooked. She had a nice voice, humming along with the radio. Jon liked to watch her. It was their ritual in the evenings. She was trying. Jon played along. It was almost like a home, but not quite. Jon wishes for it dearly.

This is not a home.

Martin is already following the sound of the music, eager to talk to their host. Mikaele. Jon is eager too; the temptation of his story is almost too much to bear. He matches his pace and they reach a parlor. Martin knocks before Jon can stop him.

Mr. Spider has a guest! But Jon didn’t bring him a cake. Mikaele smiles and they enter. He’s not a spider, but he’s housing one. Isn’t that the same?

They’ve slept for 71 hours. Jon did not dream. He wonders if Martin did. Mikaele offers them a drink though it is far too early. Jon itches for one, strangely. But he shouldn’t, and he won’t. Their host is coy, leisurely pouring himself a drink and smiling like he has a secret. He does. Jon wants it. There is a tape recorder here and Jon wants to take take take but Mikaele just gives it a delighted smirk, as if the suspicious activity is an exciting turn of events. Jon asks. Mikaele refuses.

No? Jon is confused. He’s not used to being denied, not anymore. Mikaele and Martin laugh but he does not find it particularly funny. But Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it’s the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. He likes it.

Mikaele asks how it is out there in Jon’s world. Jon doesn’t remember. How to put it into words? Does he even have the words to do so? Jon doesn’t think so. He only knows that he is hungry in a way he hasn’t been in a long time, and out there he was not. 

Martin is talking. Martin is telling Mikaele about a quest to turn the world back to how it was. “Martin,” he admonishes. He doesn’t know why he is arguing with him. Martin sees the good, sees the potential and holds onto that desperate hope. It is infuriating but it is also what Jon loves about him. He is human and it is so, so beautiful. But Salesa is no salvation. He has carved out his corner of the world and he plans to stay.

Martin wants to stay too, for a bit. Jon knows this will not last- he would be too guilty, living in paradise while others suffer. And Jon can’t protect them here. Not from Annabelle. Doesn’t Martin know they need to be on their guard? Spiders only look for their next meal. Annabelle will devour them whole.

“Alright, I guess we can stay. Just for a bit.” Why does he say that? Jon is so tired. Martin is tired too. They deserve a rest in this nice big house. Jon has always wanted Martin to have nice things. For the first time he can offer something. 

Mikaele is talking but Jon isn’t interested in small talk. He wants to know. 

Look at him! Not three days without his master spooning knowledge into his head and he can’t bear it!

Mikaele is laughing but Jon is not. Martin asks again and the man indulges. It’s nice when Martin wants to know too. He knows he shouldn’t subject him to the statements when he doesn’t like it. But Jon wants to share his knowledge. He wants Martin to want it too.

Martin tells Mikaele he’ll behave. It’s impolite to badger your host, after all.

And Salesa is smart. Salesa prepared, Salesa survived. He is quick-witted and an excellent storyteller. Jon is entranced and he tries to drink it in but it is like empty calories, sweet and fleeting. 

I can die. 

… but still, if it means a comfort...anyway, no more stories I think.

You can’t trust comfort. But Jon tries, for the next few days. For Martin. Martin is at peace here and so is Jon, in a way. He’s never felt a hazy unknowing like this. Annabelle comes and goes but is never seen for long and Jon partakes in her gifts when the hunger gets to be too much. Martin tells him about the flowers and the trees. The sun hits their skin as they stroll the grounds. Jon can’t walk for long but he tries, because Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it’s the first time he’s seen him smile in a while. He likes it.

They see Salesa come and go. Sometimes they talk but Jon can’t remember what it’s about. The tape recorder hasn’t shown up again.

Martin curls around him in bed. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he whispers.

“I think we need to leave.” Jon whispers back. It is the first real opinion he’s offered in days.

Martin pauses and then squeezes Jon a little tighter. “I know.”

This is not a home.

They pack and there it is. A tape recorder. Jon hasn’t seen one in days. He figures their peace wasn’t worth listening to, not for whatever is haunting them.

Martin asks one more time. But Jon can’t stay. He can’t remember how they got here. He is scared but the fear is gentle here. And that scares him more. He knows Martin will tire of this place eventually. But not in time for Jon.

Martin is worried about the implications of this. What happens if we actually do manage to- we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Jon doesn’t like to think about it. So he doesn’t.

Annabelle comes and Martin is angry. Martin wants answers. 

The sun felt nice, didn’t it? Jon can’t remember what the sun felt like. Martin pours tea but the tea isn’t tea it’s spiders-

“Jon?”

Someone is talking. Someone is asking questions. Is the knowledge even worth it? Annabelle is answering something.

Elias once said that Jon chose this. Every step of the way, he pressed on. 

Our world is made of choices, Jon, and very rarely do we truly know what any of them mean, but we make them nonetheless.

But did he choose this? Jon doesn’t remember. For some reason, he wants a cigarette. He toys with the lighter in his pocket. 

Annabelle demurs. She is a spider, that’s what they do. Always behind the scenes, always underestimated. 

“I can handle myself.” Martin always has. Martin is strong. Martin doesn’t need him. But Jon needs Martin. And Martin chooses him. It’s a blessing he doesn’t deserve.

“...I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re leaving.”

Martin takes his hand and they move towards the door. Annabelle speaks again but Jon isn’t listening.

“That’s the trouble with old houses. Full of spiders.”

This is not a home.

Annabelle shows them out. It’s fine. Salesa comes to say goodbye, but Jon has to...has to...has to…

Leave, right.

There is opera playing somewhere in the distance. The house is so big the sound only reaches them in echoes. How long have they been here? His grandmother used to play opera while she cooked. She had a nice voice, humming along with the radio. Jon liked to watch her. It was their ritual in the evenings. She was trying. Jon played along. It was almost like a home, but not quite. Jon wishes for it dearly.

“Jon, let’s go.” Right, yes. They were leaving. Martin leads the way.

____

Jon feels better in the howling winds. He knows Martin does not, but Martin is brave. Martin is a kind soul. Martin couldn’t bear to watch others suffer when he thinks he can do something about it. And Martin chooses Jon, every time. Martin would never leave him and Jon is so, so afraid.

That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.

For the first time, Martin knows something he doesn’t. Jon is as delighted by this as he is saddened. The time slips from his mind like a dream he forgot to write down. 

It was nice. It was really nice.

Martin is smiling. Jon thinks it is the last time he will see it for a while. 

[bibliocratic]

TMA jonmartin fics

Organising these, mostly so I can keep track to be honest. All some flavour of jonmartin, predominantly fluff or angst. cws in original tags. 

Updated as of June 2020

If you'd like to send any prompts, feel free!  All of these are also bundled together on A03.

Martin tries to rescue Jon from Elias, post-160

JONAH MAGNUS Oh, but, look. Look at him, Martin. Isn’t my Archive magnificent?

MARTIN [whispered, almost fearful] Yes.

Martin feels the pull of the Lonely. Jon draws a bath.

“Come on,” Jon says, enfolding their hands together.  His voice is kind, and that’s never died, no matter how the world bricked it up and starved it of sunlight. Jon’s kind to his bones, and it wells up from the deep down of him.

Jon pulls the way, and Martin follows behind.

Even after Jon stops being the Archivist, they aren’t safe. (parent!AU)

“I would like to propose an idea,” Martin says. Softer now. More tired. “and I-I want you to hear me out.”

“OK.”

“Whatever it is.”

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence.”

Martin gives him a Look.

“OK,” Jon says, rubbing his thumb over Martin’s knuckles. “OK, I promise. Whatever it is, I-I’ll at least listen.”

Martin's nightmares never quite leave him

Martin feels the question form there, at the centre, the tentative journey it traverses before he hears 'Can I…. I mean, do you want to…?’

The question isn’t fully born before he’s heaving great waves of sobs into the chest he’s pillowed on. Like clockwork, the arms come round, always an inch too tight a grip, and somehow that makes this easier to bear.

Things were always going to catch up with them eventually

He’s a light sleeper, and they knew he would be. Didn’t want him to wake too soon, to be denied a proper welcome. Jon shifts and stretches and burrows as he slips dazedly into consciousness, nestling tighter against the body next to him still fast-asleep before the thick weight of sleep is dropped and he jolt up, a punched out breath of shock escaping them.

And finally they are witnessed. They watch his expressions free-fall from understanding to despair.

Local Man cheats at card games, Local Avatar is smitten

Martin likes playing, not necessarily competitively, but where he does excel is in cheating. Jon catches him swapping out a three for a queen out of the corner of his eye – well, Martin wants him to catch him – and his smile is wide and shocked and gleeful in his own way –you cheat! How could you?!

soulmate-identifying marks, or: fuck yeah tattoos

“The Archivist?” Peter Lukas asks. His voice isn’t mocking. Martin isn’t sure what it it.

He hates the tone of it.

“Do you want something?” Martin responds curtly. Frosty. Tugging his sleeves back down pointedly. Peter’s expression is ever so proud.

Something is wrong. Martin just can't put his finger on it.

“Sorry,” Jon says, without sounding sorry in the slightest, almost cheeky. He bestows another kiss that is not a kiss to Martin’s neck, scraping a little with his teeth.

“Sleep,” Martin repeats, groggy but firm, and traps the soft, unblemished skin of Jon’s hands in his own.

Martin has certain standards

Jon feels a wide smile begin on his face (still so rare, still hard-won, but Martin teases them out of him with the smallest things these days).

“You hipster!” he says with delight, secretly pleased he’s found something he can tease Martin about. “Have you thrown out my teabags just to make a point?”

Jon wakes up and finds Martin gone

– Something is absent from us. –

Jon opens his blinking, feeble human eyes. Feels around with his finger tips, feels the cool sheet next to him, the unoccupied imprint on the pillow.

Martin is not next to him.

Jon strikes a bargain to save Martin

Martin is blinking away the sediment build-up of unshed tears and they roll down his face, shrivelling in the strict grip of the cold.

“I thought,” he says thinly, “I thought I was going to die alone.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Jon bites out, and it only has the ghost of a furious intensity but the sentiment soaks in it. He feels the Loneliness recede, with a slowness that’s impartially mocking. “You aren’t going to die. I won’t let you.”

Martin showing normal, genuine human anger, feat. Blackwood Snr.

“Right,” comes the short response. “I am – you know I am trying here.”

Martin’s voice goes low and flat and judgemental.

“And how long until you lose interest this time?”

MLM solidarity front, or: Tim and Martin go drinking

“I mean – I – I’d like to. If you – if you still want.”

Tim grins, and his cocksure manner is on display like a theatre curtain lifted. He stands up, doing a stupid little bow like he’s trying to make Martin laugh.

“t'would be my honour to lead you astray, Master Blackwood.”

Back-and-forth early morning teasing

“It’s a bit late to tell me you’re a dog person,” Jon chides instead. “I’m afraid I might have to call this whole thing off, if that’s the case.”

Martin looks up at him with his face squashed into his ‘you are not, and have never been funny, Jonathan’ face.

Martin hides an injury. Jon is freaking out in his own way.

He can taste grit and dirt in his mouth and there’s a stinging dampness on his upper lip. He blinks, coming to terms slowly, and it’s then that he realises, just from a brief glance, that Jon is absolutely fuming.

Jon is getting better at expressing what he wants

Jon reaches out, and like setting fingers to the board of a violin, delicately fits his hand against Martin’s. Like he’s memorised exactly the places where they go, the coves and shorelines where their islands can align.

Martin’s grip has never been as careful. His fingers engulf Jon’s smaller size, cushioning them in a sturdy grip.

How to proposal to your boyfriend during an apocalypse, and definitely how not to.

Jon tries to write vows.

Domesticity and  going on holiday, post Watcher's Crown

“Jon!” Martin is shouting with his head shoved in the under-stairs closet. “You got your raincoat?”

“I won’t need it,” comes the low response from the kitchen.

“The weather said it might rain.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jon replies, only half listening really, with a willfully misplaced confidence in the weather.

“I’ll pack it anyway,” Martin calls back, kicking something else with his foot that sounds like the hoover. “In case.”

Jon does not react well to ending the world. Martin puts together the pieces.

Under the watch of that terrible sky, Jon crumples like something demolished.

Martin catches him. He always will, he remembers thinking.

In the Lonely, Jon hugs Martin (set mid-159)

Jon’s arms go around him, and there is nothing tentative, soft-shoed, there is no awkward displacement holding him slightly at a distance. Jon’s arms go around him, and he – his body unfolds against Martin’s. There is much too much of him, a surge of all-at-once motion and Martin feels like splintering.

Martin's not the only one susceptible to the Lonely

He hears the wash of mile-distant waves, as though behind the shelves to the front of the shop, and thinks not here, not here.

He tries to shake his head loose of the fog beginning to bind it like cobwebbing wisps. But the world has such terrors in it, and the Archive keeps record of them all. And that’s what Jon is, in the end.

The day-to-day ramifications of being a record of ceaseless terror

In the dark, under the covers, the sound is the shift of grave soil, of pressing earth, but it is also Martin, ensconced in warm empty dreams, Jon trying to breath through his nose and not wake him up, and it can be all of these things at once.

Supportive Martin and the Eye-based horror his boyfriend sometimes turns into.

“Stop.”

The rats stop. So does Martin. The scream bubbles un-made and unvoiced in his chest and he can’t blink the blood out of his eyes. He can’t see Jon, but he doesn’t expect to. It’s not Jon that’s here with them any more.

'I'll stay right here, ok?”

“The ambulance will be here s – ” Martin starts, trying to be gentle, but Jon tightens his grip ever so kindly, shakes his head.

“I don’t think I’ll be waiting around for that,” he says, and it’s almost light-hearted in the face of what they both know is now inevitable.

Patron swap, Lonely!Jon, Beholding!Martin

It is a surprise to no one that upon taking over the Institute, Peter Lukas turns his hand at trying to steer Jonathan Sims to the Lonely.

In the days after the end of the world, Jon finds Martin a gift

“Woss, what’s wrong?” Martin starts, but Jon’s pressing something into his hands firmly, so self-satisfied, joyous and smug with a mysterious success, and he feels his own grin start to blossom in kind, wanting to take part in the same delight. “What is it?”

sleep doesn't look pleasant, spoilers for 161

Martin won’t wake up. Eyes clenched closed, breathing laboured, and for a long while, Jon’s world gets quieter as his own immediate louder fear rises like gall in his throat. He tries compelling him even.

Jon doesn’t know that this will happen every time Martin dreams.

Jon is admitted to hospital. Martin frets.

Jon nearly died today, his brain keeps reminding him. You nearly lost him, you nearly weren’t fast enough.

Trans!Jon, Trans!Martin, intimate rituals

Jon’s hair is getting long.

Morning rituals, Jon admiring the view.

But he much prefers this slow and lazy unwinding of a day because he gets to study Martin. He puts his elbows on the wooden table off to the side of their pokey kitchen, and enjoys watching an artless, intimate one-man performance just for him, as he acclimatises to the day.

Scottish honeymoon, soft get-together

Martin wonders why Jon didn’t go upstairs. Take the bed. The cottage is an old crofter’s place, two small and utilitarian bedrooms where they discarded their meagre belongings on arrival.

Martin looks at the tea. Feels the scarf under his head, the heavy coats weighing him down.

Thinks he might know why.

Monster!Jon, AU S5

“What the fuck are you?” she says. She does not lower her weapon. The guard to her left has raised her own.

All of its eyes blink out of rhythm as its unseen mouth moves with that croaking, piteous whisper. “He’s, he’s human, he’s hurt and he needs – he’ll die, please.” The man it is carrying looks human. Painted with dirt and filth, the slick of insects broken over his skin. His breathing is starting to rattle.

Tim is mildly cursed, S1 shenanigans 

Whoever is closest, but usually Sasha, will give a sarcastic cheer. To which Tim – cradling his injury,  glowering with a fire-starter expression at whatever file or paper or fragment dealt the blow – will reply: “Piss off, right, it’s not funny, I’m cursed. This is a curse.”

OG Archive crew sad hours

There could have been a day, when they’d all just talked.

Martin struggles to readjust to the world, post 159

Some days though, when the tempest around has dropped from squalling, Martin feels brave enough to look over at Jon.

Jon and Martin’s post-s5 wish list

“Martin?”

“Hmm?”

“After all this, after we’ve – what do you want to do? If we manage to – ”

“When we manage to.”

“Fine, when all this goes back to the way it was, what do you want to do?”

Safehouse drabble

Jon doesn’t sleep but this rest is as close to peace as this world allows him. 

AU S3, Breekon and Hope take Martin, not Jon.

Tim always thought Martin was reliable. Unshakeable.

That he was always going to be there.

Martin’s daemon is a spider. People have mixed feelings about this.

“Aron,” Martin says slowly. He keeps his hands folded on his lap but his fingers twitch to reach out. “This is – we’ve settled, haven’t we?”

Aron can’t nod. His form can’t allow for such an expression. But he brings his legs in closer, pebbles up and won’t look at Martin, and that’s answer enough.

Aspec Martin Week - Daemon!AU

Martin has always liked watching Emer. The flash of gossamer-white wings circling Jon’s head or sat on his wrist like an overly-extravagant watch while he read statements.

“Stop looking,” he used to hiss at the moving lump under his shirt, poking many orb-like eyes over his collar to stare even when Martin stopped. “It’s rude.”

Aspec Martin Week - Martin’s first Pride

Restored from their dramatic hangovers, Monday comes. Martin arrives huffing and delayed from the Tube to see Tim’s stuck his flag so it stands battered and proud over the lid of his laptop. Sasha’s made her small desk teddy bear hold hers. And it’s the memory of the day, the sun and the heat and the wild dizzying lack of expectations of it all, that gives him the courage to bring the flags he carefully preserved in on Tuesday, to put them jutting out of the mug on his desk that holds his stationery.

Honestly, he doesn’t expect anyone to comment on them. It’s not like anyone else comes down to their offices anyway.

Aspec Martin Week - Martin comes out (with help)

You surge against his lips again so he can’t see your nerves, you stupid, unfounded, calcifying anxieties, the barriers you keep putting up yourself because you are so terrified of being happy.

“Maybe… not tonight?” you mumble into your shared air. If he pushed, if he asked again, you would. He dragged you from the shoreline, out of the fog, this is the least you can give him. You’d lie on your back, or you’d cover him with your shape, and you’d try so hard to make him happy so he wouldn’t notice you not sharing the same. “’m a bit tired.”

Tricky, is what you are. Perjurious. Prevaricating. Two-faced.

Martin is a massive fan of Jon’s multitude of eyes

“I just want to see,” Martin mimics petulance and Jon huffs a smirk.

“They are my eyeballs,” he responds primly, putting down a dry mug and picking up a plate to towel off.

“What’s the point of having horror-bestowed physical improvements if you don’t show them off?”

Martin worries about being a father

That’s not – ” Martin says, stops. Pulls his hands away from his face, his eyes puffy.

He takes Jon’s hand, still perched on his knee, laces their fingers together. Over the baby monitor, Jon can hear the soft untroubled in-and-out of their son breathing.

“I sounded like my dad,” Martin confesses finally. Fat tears well up and stagger down his tear-prickled cheeks. “I sounded exactly like him.”

Martin and Jon get wine drunk 

Jon sticks out his tongue. Martin tries to poke it with his finger, and Jon reels back with another one of those wine-laden expressions, earnest and open as a window.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, struggling with finding the opening at the top of the pack, before  he pauses, dutifully following up with a no-less sincere and concessionary: “But not if you don’t want to.”

There’s nothing sexier than open and honest communication (post-166)

“I fucking hate the Buried,” Jon says into Martin’s shoulder.

“It sucks,” Martin agrees. “You er – you have any more poetry this time?”

Martin feels Jon’s ‘no’ like an earth tremor over his breastbone.

“Worms,” comes the reply muffled shapeless into his coat.

“Like…normal worms?”

“People worms.”

“Rrright. Less fun then.”

Martin has some thoughts about the Web

Martin does not think about spiders. 

(Except he does.) 

Did you feel, Jon had proposed delicately, like she was influencing your mind at all? 

Jon’s world has no certainties. No maps, boundaries, no promises that can remain unquestioned. 

Martin has the edges of his world now. He has to be able to trust in them. 

Jon gets hurt and doesn’t tell Martin

Jon burns when Martin puts a hand to his forehead, and he won’t wake, not for Martin’s calls and shakes, not for anything. When Martin goes to check, the wound on his leg has rooted from ankle to thigh, festering rot-black branches of something sludgy and swollen and varicose tracing the same lines as his veins.

The Corruption wars with Beholding upon the battleground of its Archive, and there is nothing Martin can do.

Martin still struggles with his mental health

It was easier, Martin thinks sometimes, when he could blame it on the Lonely.

Episode 170 could have gone so many different ways

This is your house, we whisper to him.

You have always been here alone, we promise.

We recite to our beloved that he has never been loved, and our winds, our walls, our winding mists tell him so often that eventually he believes us.

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 30

“Think on it,” Ansgar said. “Maybe even talk to your sister about it. She knows me. She knows how I work.”

Elias’ face fell into an odd, unreadable expression. He kept silent for a long moment, and when he smiled, the light did not reach his eyes. When he spoke, his words were a whisper - not angry, but intent. “She knows how you… work, eh?” His eyes narrowed. “Does she now?”

A shard of ice stabbed down Ansgar’s back - a familiar jolt, one that, as it melted, brought back a wave of memory. A memory of Rufus Valentine, of Faye’s brother, when he’d made a similar challenge. A similar challenge which had led to a deep friendship while he was married to Faye. A similar challenge which, when things fell away, had led to a threat of death upon their next meeting - should they ever meet again. Which Ansgar hoped they would not.

He hated the idea of having to kill the man.

And now, he saw the beginnings of the same from Elias. The natal spark. It froze Ansgar, his beer glass hovering, his hand unmoving, his facial muscles stiff, eyes rock hard and boring into the other man. It took a moment before Ansgar moved, but what made the shell of ice break away was the sudden flash of fear in the other man’s eyes. Ansgar lowered his mug and set his hands flat upon the table, considering, thinking.

And finally, he let his breath out. Here we go again…  He relaxed. He smiled, the alcohol in his blood easing him. He spoke. “Look, friend….”

But Elias cut him off. “Answer my question, Martinsson. Exactly what knowledge does… does my sister have about you?”

Ansgar smirked, glaring at Elias through the sides of his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Careful, Elias. I see that nasty little question just sitting there on the tip of your tongue,” he sneered. “If you’re as buzzed as I am, you might just ask it. You might just say something stupid, something you’ll regret. And believe me, you’ll regret it.”

“I deserve to know. I’m her brother.”

Ansgar sighed. “Listen, man. My sister is four years younger than me. Her name is Leda. She lives here in Stockholm. Works as an interior designer and she’s talented as fuck. In fact, I use her on my own projects from time to time. She’s a bit of an entitled, spoilt little bitch, but I love her dearly. Anyway, my brother and I, we are both fully involved in her life. I know, at any time, who she’s seeing. I know who she’s dating. I know who she’s fucking. Follow me?”

Elias’ eyes widened. “I do,” he spat.

“Good,” Ansgar squinted and gave a curt nod. “So, know this. Should anyone, any man, or any woman for that matter, ever hurt her, in any way, shape or form, I will hunt that person down and put a bullet in their brain, and don’t think I am speaking in hyperbole because I am most certainly not.”

He paused, then, letting the sentiment sink in, glaring at Elias through lowered, narrowed eyes. He relished in the renewed wash of apprehension that slid over Elias’ features. He knew he was frightening him - but moreso in gaining the man’s respect rather than driving him to somehow forbid Ansgar’s relationship with Joline.

It was a fine line that Ansgar trod. And he knew it.

He took a sip of beer. “The only reason I know the identity of those persons who fuck my sister is because she tells me. She’s honest with me and… and… and open with me, and that honesty comes only in her own time and on her own terms. I neither force her to tell me these things nor do I ask those whom I suspect have carnal knowledge of her. Do you see where I’m going with this, Elias?”

Elias nodded and swallowed.

Ansgar smiled. “Good, I’m glad you do. So then,” he instructed, “the first lesson learnt is that I understand entirely where you’re coming from. I get you. I’m an older brother, too. I respect your feelings about me, about Joline, about this whole situation.”

“Fine. And the second lesson?”  

“If you want to know whether Joline and I are…,” he cleared his throat, pulled a face, and and gestured with a subtle vulgarity, “… well, don’t you think you ought to ask her, instead of me? Or simply wait for her to tell you? Out of respect for your sister and out of respect for your own career.”

Elias frowned, confused. “My… c-career?”

Ansgar nodded slowly, humming a tight lipped “mmm hmmm,” prodding the man to think. He kept his eyes on Elias but hid his face behind a long pull of his beer.

“Oh,” Elias nodded sagely. “I get it. You just laid the possibility of this lucrative, cushy job right at my feet, and now I’m… I’m….”

“Acting the unappreciative arsehole big brother,” Ansgar chuckled. His next words were sharp and cutting, but he spoke them with a smile and a lighthearted air. “I can elevate your career to new heights, my friend. But at the same time, if you somehow end up on my bad side… I can ruin it.”

Elias laughed nervously. “Look, Ansgar,” he leaned forward, elbows rest heavily upon the table. “All I want to know is… is… is what your intentions are toward my sister. You’ve been in the news lately, with your wife and –”

Ansgar lifted a hand. “Don’t you dare mention her. Not now. Not ever.”

Elias slinked back into his chair and sipped absently at his beer. “Fair enough,” he said, “but I… I can’t help but be concerned. I’ve heard… things about you.”

“That’s in the past,” Ansgar declared. “Far, far in the past. Things… circumstances… hardships have changed me. Enlightened me, so to speak. I can assure… assure you that my intentions toward your sister are nothing but honorable. I like her a great deal, and I care for her.” He swallowed down a belch. “I’d do anything for her, anything.”

“Even hire her unappreciative arsehole big brother?”

“If it means that I get the benefit of your talents, then yes. If it means giving you a path to more income, to give Joline some reprieve from taking care of your mother, then yes. If it means giving your boys more opportunities, more for their education, more time with their… their father, then yes.”

Elias shook his head quickly, blinking in surprise. “You know… about our mother?”

Ansgar nodded. “I know she’s ill, and gravely so. I know Joline’s caring for her. She hasn’t told me as much, hasn’t shared that with me, but I know it nonetheless. She’ll tell me when she’s ready, I’m sure of it, but if there are things I can do behind the scenes to make her life easier, make things better for your mother, then I’ll do it.”

Elias stared, as stiff as Ansgar had been earlier. Only the thing that pierced him was not a shard of ice down his back. Rather, it was a warmth to his heart, a shock to his mind as he attempted to process what Ansgar had just told him.

And the gobsmacked look of him made Ansgar laugh. “Come on, man,” Ansgar guffawed. “I’m not that much of a dick. My reputation isn’t that terrible, is it?”

Elias chewed his bottom lip. “I guess not,” he said. “I just never expected you to be so… so generous.”

“Funny,” he mused. “Joline said the same thing.” He paused for a moment, and the two men considered each other, sussed out the truths of each other, bolstered a new found respect for each other. A respect which Ansgar wanted to seal up, hold tight to, and commemorate. He lifted his hand, and with a quick gesture, summoned the server.

And the server responded immediately, bringing a bottle of Akvavit and two small, stemmed glasses. Ansgar thanked the man, and turned to Elias, gesturing at the setup on the table before them. “Please,” he said. “Do the honors. Pour for us. Pour, and we’ll sing and we’ll drink to our new friendship.”

“I’m not sure I can do this. These fancy to-dos, I’ve always been removed from them… at the theatre, I mean. As house manager, even though I plan these events, I’m not really involved, other than looking to make money for the theatre.”

Rose looked at her new friend with compassion, “You’re unsure because this is personal… and you like him.”

Joline wanted to deny it, wanted to preserve herself, wanted to maintain her dignity and save face. She threw barrier after barrier after stonewall after obstacle to keep Ansgar at, the very least, arm’s length away from her emotions. But if Rose read her that well, she’d already failed to keep him at a safe distance.

“Shit,” she muttered to her feet, her chin dropped to her chest. She kicked at a pebble in the grass with her summer blue heels. Where had she gone wrong? When did intense sexual attraction and chemistry become ‘it’s personal… and you like him’?

Rose chuckled again when she saw Joline’s reaction. She took a shot at what she thought she saw in Joline and the woman all but confirmed it. “Hey there, girl… honey. It’s happened to the best of us.” She caught Joline’s eyes. “We need to rub one out, satisfy Mother Nature’s physical itch to guarantee that the human race continues. Turn to the first person who… wets,” she winked, nodding to the conversation the previous night, “our female bits.”

“That happen to you?” Joline pulled out of her pout. Away from the scrutinizing looks and gossiping whispers, she felt more herself.

“You met Jacqui. She was my summer love affair… four years ago.” Rose linked her arm through Joline’s at the woman’s look of surprise. She followed the curve of the party setup, taking her friend with her. “Don’t be so shocked.”

Joline leaned her head on Rose’s shoulder, their pace leisure and unhurried despite the heavy beat from the rock music coming for the arcade area of the picnic. “How clichéd to catch the feelings for my partner.”

“I shudder to think,” Rose laughed at Joline’s statement, sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

“Tell me, tell me about you and Jacqui,” Joline begged, wanting the distraction more than to spill her guts to her friend about what was happening with her.

“An intern, she was, my Jacqui. We tried to hate each other. I hazed her shamefully.” Rose yanked Joline along to a shelter to sit down. “Let’s sit and chat. The sun is lobstering my face, I can feel it.” The two women stepped under the safety of the natural shade of the all wood gazebo.

Joline pulled her skirt down as she folded herself onto the bench that lined the inside. “So what happened? How did you turn up the temperature?”

Rose leaned back, stretched her legs out in front of her, and stacked one ankle over the other. “Jacqui looks delicious in green.”

“Huh?”

“A heated argument over some basic risotto ended her in wearing the shit. I… ahem… licked—you can fill in the rest. We kept it under wraps for a bit, but feelings can’t be contained… or shoved in a freezer.”

Joline furrowed her brow and then burst out a laugh. “Her or you?”

Rose smiled, fully committing to the memory of it. “Me. A self-inflicted punishment to,” she raised her hands to demonstrate air quotes, “’cool down.’”

“Did it work?” Joline crossed one long leg over the other and crossed her arms.

“For those eleven minutes, it did. But here I am, four years later, just as hot for her now as I was after that time out.” Rose pursed her lips, reading Joline’s defensive body language, sensing her need to hear just why this story applied to her current situation. “Honey, it’s not cliché. It’s wonderful and awful, it’s amazing and terrifying, it’s empowering and painful. It’s all those things when you open up to something—ah! Someone new.”

Joline looked away, scanning the park away from the Martinsson Construction festivities, over the lawn and the trees and the everyday people milling around being normal. She sighed. “I was married before. I met him at university and married him a week after we graduated. I dated him for two years, married him at twenty-one, and divorced him ten years later.”

Rose studied her friend’s face for a long moment. The woman didn’t blink, her eyes glued to the horizon, steeled and dark as she relived her ancient history. “I get it now,” Rose announced with a sympathetic tile of her head. “You had your chance. Is that it? So what happens now? What happens to you now?”

“Secret hidden affairs that last a week, maybe a month at best,” Joline admitted sadly.

“Because you’ve… what? Decided?”

“It’s what I know to be true.” At least it had been since her divorce two years ago. “Nobody wants a divorcee.”

Rose clicked her tongue in her mouth in disdain, disappointed that Joline didn’t see the double standard in her own generalization. “You do. Ansgar is too.” She threw her hands up in frustration, in disgust.

“It’s different for men. He… I’m his lover, but there’s nothing more to it than that.”

The breeze made the trees sound of rain, but it didn’t reach the tense air within the gazebo. Their blue eyes warred over the truth, their own personal truths setting them on opposite sides. Joline knew her empty love affairs of the past two years. Rose had seen Ansgar’s previous marriage and how his dynamic with Joline appeared differently than any relationship that came before.

“He brought you here! His first public appearance since returning to Stockholm. That’s worth more than few tumbles in bed.”

Joline sat forward on the bench, hooking her hands over the edge, and hunching her shoulders in disbelief. “Or maybe it was easier for him not to answer questions about his ex-wife.”

“If that were true, you’d be plastered to his side. Where is your temporary lover?” Another heavy dose of sarcasm with so much emphasis on her pronunciation of temporary.

Jutting her chin in the other direction, Joline didn’t unfurl from her hunched, shell like position. “The VIP tent, with my brother.”

“Your brother?”

Joline confirmed it, shuffling her feet along the wood planks of the floor, wishing she knew what kept them so long. “He invited my brother, his wife and their kids, because he knew I’d object to it.”

Rose burst out a humor filled laugh, shattering the tension in the gazebo. She pushed to her feet, using her momentum to get up into Joline’s face. She pulled the woman out of her prickly, protective and neurotic pose onto her feet. “Honey, that’s foreplay!!” She tucked Joline’s hand under her own arm this time to get her in the center of the party.

“Wha—what do you mean?”

“He’s bringing your people closer into his circle. Schmoozing them, charming them… marking his territory around you, sweet cheeks. It’s all foreplay and pillow talk. You can take your maudlin nobody wants a divorcee crap elsewhere, honey. There’s no room for it here, not with his bullhead around.”

Joline stumbled to keep up with Rose as she made a beeline for the VIP tent, peeking in the windows to get a glimpse inside. The butterflies in Joline’s belly beat a southbound flight, making her slightly nauseous. Rose led them round to the flap inside and dragged her unwilling friend behind her into the tabled area.

Ansgar and Elias sat in the center, clinking their shot glasses together and knocking them back. Their raucous laughter drowned out the other ambient noise of the beer tent. And then there was the singing…. Out of tune, louder than sin and so much less melodic than any song that either woman ever had the displeasure of listening.

[nothesc]

Yousana Exchange Fic 1

Hey there @ur-nitemare SURPRISE! I’m your secret @yousanaexchange gifter :D

You know I’ve been super busy this past month but I’ve managed to write something. Since you LOVE christmas and you LOVE yousana I thought about making some Yousana Christmas little fics (I know Yousef and Sana don’t celebrate Christmas so I just set the fics around Christmas) I don’t know how many I’ll be able to write but I hope you like them.

Here’s the first one :D ♥

---------x-------

“And remember, it’s very important that you make them yourself, you can’t have them made for you or the whole magic of Christmas will disappear”

Sana can’t help but roll her eyes listening to her friend on the phone. She still doesn’t know why she’s let Vilde convince her to take part in this whole thing at all.

“Vilde, I don’t even celebrate Christmas so if the magic disappears I don’t care much. I’m only doing this whole thing because my birthday happens to be that day and you have insisted on celebrating it this way”

“Then don’t look at it like it’s a Christmas thing, it’s just a few friends meeting for your brithday which happens to be on Christmas Day and to celebrate it we’re doing a cookie contest” Sana has to admit something, Vilde is really trying to make it sound like it’s going to be the best day of her life. “But remember the rules Sana, you have to make them yourself”

“Yes Vilde, I know but if you don’t leave me alone I won’t be able to make them”

“You’re right, I’ll see you tomorrow at Eva’s and may the best cookies win”

Shaking her head, Sana sets her phone on the counter in the kitchen and looks around, she has so much work to do. When Vilde had mentioned that they should meet each other for Sana’s birthday she had thought that all they would do was watch a movie, maybe eat something, but she couldn’t have imagined that she had to cook. It had all been Vilde’s idea. According to her, Christmas is a time to cook yummy things like cookies so she had had the ‘brilliant’ idea of having a cookie contest with her friends. Each of them would make some cookies and then they would eat them without knowing who had made each of them. That way, they could vote for the ones they had liked the most -they couldn’t vote for their own cookies- and the one that would win would get to take home the rest of the cookies. It is silly, it is childish, it is too Chistmas-ish for Sana since she doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but it is also kind of nice that Vilde is so keen on seeing each other on Sana’s birthday since she knows that for those who celebrate it, it’s a day to spend with the family. Checking that she has all the ingredients she needs, Sana sighs and prepares to try to cook for the first time in her life.

 ----x----

 “Hmm…Elias, I think something is burning in your kitchen”

Yousef can’t help but frown at the smell. He’s with the rest of the boys in Elias’ living room, just like almost every day. They’re playing videogames and talking about the idea of creating a youtube channel together. Elias has been talking about that for months now but the boys aren’t convinced. Yousef and Mutta don’t care much but Mikael thinks it’s silly and Adam, well, Adam always agrees with Mikael.

“Don’t even mention it, it’s Sana trying to cook” Elias says not looking away from the TV.

“Since when does she cook? I’ve never seen her cooking. Not that I’ve been paying attention or anything.” Yousef mentally pats himself in the back for making it seem like he doesn’t notice almost everything

“Nice save man, we haven’t noticed at all that you watch her every move” Adam says winking ironically.

Well, maybe Yousef doesn’t act as well as he thinks. He would answer Adam with some kind of comment about how he doesn’t think about Sana that way but he knows he’s a terrible liar and his friends know him too much so he just stays quiet until they hear like something has fallen to the floor in the kitchen.

“Why isn’t your mom helping her?” Yousef asks Elias pausing the videogame they’re playing.

“She doesn’t want help, apparently she’s meeting her friends tomorrow for her birthday and each of them are making cookies but they have to be made by them, no help. And if Sana isn’t something, that is a cheater.”

“But maybe she just needs a little bit of help, that’s not cheating”

“Yousef, if you’re so keen on helping her then go, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Elias says pressing play on the videogame.

“I’m not keen on helping her, I’m just wondering” he tries to focus on the game but his mind is somewhere else, in a kitchen near him.

For a while he tries to concentrate on what he’s doing but when he hears Sana’s voice coming from the kitchen and yelling “no!” he makes a decision and stands up.

“Guys, I’m going to look for something to drink” He doesn’t even give the boys a chance to answer before he starts his way to the kitchen.

“Don’t say I haven’t warn you man” He hears Elias saying as he opens the kitchen’s door.

 ---x---

The last thing she needs right now, after trying to bake some cookies for the past 2 hours and failing every single time, is her brother Elias trying to help her so when she hears the kitchen’s door she doesn’t even turn to look at him before she speaks.

“Elias, I told you to leave me alone!” she freezes when she turns around and sees that the boy in front of him is not her brother but the guy that, even if she’s been trying to deny it to herself, takes her breath away. “Yousef…I’m sorry I thought you were…”

“Elias” he finishes for her with a smile, that smile that makes her legs go weak.

“Yeah…” She whispers, then she tries to pull herself together, she’s Sana Bakkoush, she can’t let him notice that she has a crush on him. “So what do you want?”

“I want to help, from what I’ve heard it seems like you could use some.” He bites his bottom lip hoping she doesn’t reject him.

“I don’t need help and even if I did, I can’t accept your help, it goes against the rules”

“Yeah, your brother has told me the rules but no one has to know I helped you.” He tries to convince her knowing that she’d never cheat.

“I’m not a cheater” she crosses her arms on her chest and frowns at the thought that he even thinks she’d do that.

“I know, that’s why I’ve thought of a way for me to help without it being cheating.”

“You’ve thought of something?” Sana tilts her head like she doesn’t believe him.

“Why are you so surprised about the fact that I thought of something?”

“You’re friends with my brothers, you can’t be very smart” she jokes

“Oh wow, wow…okay, maybe you don’t deserve my help after all.” He makes it look like he’s going to leave the kitchen but waits for her to tell him not to go. Sadly, that moment never comes and he turns to look at her. “You’re not going to ask me to stay?”

“Aren’t you going to stay either way?” Sana is surprised that she’s being this confident with Yousef in front of her. It’s not like she thinks he wants to help her, it’s more like she knows he wants to help. Yousef is like that, if he sees that someone needs help he’s going to help.

“Fair enough…anyway the thing is, what if I didn’t do anything? I just talk you through the baking but I promise not to touch anything. That way I can help you but it’ll be all your doing. What do you say?”

Sana takes a moment to think about her options. She can say no and spend the rest of the afternoon alone and fighting against the oven. Or she can say yes and spend the afternoon with Yousef and make some really great cookies. For Sana the answer is clear.

  ---x---

“You promised you wouldn’t touch anything!” Sana almost yells taking the bowl in her hands and trying to put it away from Yousef.

They’ve been baking for almost an hour now -well, Sana has, Yousef has been just telling her what to do-, the mix is ready and Yousef is trying to taste it but Sana won’t let him

“Come on Sana, everything is done now, all that is left is put them in the oven, I think I can taste the mix.” He takes a step towards her and tries to take the bowl but Sana refuses to give up.

“No, you can’t touch anyhing.”

“So you’re not even going to let me try them when they’re ready?” Yousef brings a hand to his chest acting offended

“I’ll think about it” She tries not to smile but she can’t help it and her lips curve into a smile that makes her dimples appear.

Her smile is received with another smile from Yousef. If only she knew how much Yousef loves her dimples.

“Wow, I’m so tired…“ Sana sighs bringing her hand to her cheek. What she doesn’t know is that by doing that she’s spread flour on her face.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Yousef who immediately chuckles bringing Sana’s attention to him.

“What are you laughing about?” she frowns trying to understand what is so funny about the situation.

“You have flour on your face.” He says smiling tenderly at her, even like that she’s the most beautfiul girl he’s ever seen.

“What? Where?” she starts to pat her face trying to get it off but she misses every single time.

“More to the left, no, not that much, a little bit up…ahh forget it” Giving up on trying to tell her where it is, he closes the distance between them and raises his hand, stopping right before it touches her. “May I?”

If Sana hadn’t forgotten how to breath in that exact moment she would answer with a yes, instead of that she just looks at Yousef and nods.

Without tearing his eyes apart from her he places his hand on her cheeks and wipes away the flour. He keeps his hand there longer than necessary but Sana doesn’t seem to mind. They both look at each other and smile, sharing the moment. The moment that is interrupted by Elias yelling from the living room that the boys are leaving and asking Yousef if he’s staying.

Yousef takes a step backwards and looks away embarrassed. Sana can feel her cheeks getting red. Elias isn’t even in the room, no one has seen them in sharing that special moment, but still, his voice has been enough to make them realice what was happening between them. Yousef clearing his throat catches Sana’s attention and she makes an effort to look at him without chickening out.

“I better go...I think you have this under control. Just remember to take the cookies out of the oven in 30 minutes.” Yousef says and if Sana didn’t know better she’d say he’s blushing.

Sana is left in the kitchen looking at the door and thinking of how she’d like to spend more time with the boy that just left. Sadly it’s just a silly idea to her, nothing will ever happen between them. Or maybe it will?

  ---x---

The next day Sana enters her house with a smile on her face. It’s been a really great day with her friends and everything turned out better than expected. She can hear laughs coming from the living room, Elias’ friends are home, as always. In another moment it’d bother her but when she sees one of the guys entering the hallway and walking towards her all she can do is smile.

“Hey! You’re home! Happy birthday!!” Yousef smiles broadly at her and Sana can feel the heat in her cheeks.

“Thank you!” she answers with a smile.

For a moment they both stay in silence, just looking at each other not knowing what to do? Do they hug? Do they just smile and leave? What do you do in this kind of situation?

Apparently Yousef remembers something because he looks down at his hands that are holding a box Sana hadn’t noticed until now.

“This is for you, happy birthday again!” He gives the box to Sana who takes it from him trying to control her shaking hands.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything…” she stops when she realices what is inside the box “muffins?”

“Well, yeah…when I got home yesterday I felt like I needed to bake something since you hadn’t let me touch anything and well, I baked these for you.” He scratches the back of his neck and hopes she doesn’t realice that he’s been weeks thinking about giving her something for her birthday and that they baking time yesterday gave him the best excuse to do it.

“Thank you so much Yousef, I bet they’re delicious” she smiles at him and then bites her lip when she remembers that she has also something for him “Actually, since we’re giving presents, this is for you”

Taking a box out of her bag she gives the cookies that she won this afternoon to him.

“Wait…these…Sana Bakkoush, did you win the cookie contest?” He can feel the wave of pride getting to him. When he looks  at her she’s smiling widely and he can see that she’s really happy about it. “Congrats!”

“Thanks! Though I should thank you for helping me”

“Hey, I didn’t touch anything, that was all you.”

“Everyone said that they were too good to be mine…I’m not sure how I should take that” she can’t help but laugh remembering the girls’ faces when she told them that the cookies they loved were in fact hers.

“Well, let’s take it as a compliment” Yousef laughs too and is surprised of how easy it is to laugh and be happy when he’s with Sana. He may not have the chance to talk to her much but when he does it’s always great. “Anyway, since I gave you muffins and you gave me cookies should we eat them now? Are you hungry?”

“I am but are you sure you want to do that in a room full of your friends?” Sana asks pointing at the living room where Elias and his friends are.

“To eat these…” he answers pointing at the box “it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

---------------x-------------