Prompt Post: The Magnus Archives #1
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rusty_kinkRules
1. All comments to the meme must be anonymous. Linking to fills on AO3/Tumblr/website of your choice is allowed, but comments here must still be posted anon.
2. Concrit is welcome if the author requests it, but character bashing, kink shaming, and hijacking threads by derailing prompts with contrary comments or asking for additions to the prompt are not allowed.
3. Warning for spoilers and subjects such as non-con, incest, underage, character death and worms is highly recommended, but not mandatory.
4. Crossover prompts between Rusty Quill Gaming and The Magnus Archives may be posted to both posts.
5. Please link all fills to the fill post.
6. Don't be an asshole. Mods reserve the right to freeze, screen or delete at their discretion.
7. While it should go without saying (kink meme and all) please be advised that much of the content here may not be appropriate for individuals under 18.
8. Update: All prompts can be filled by more than one person. Two cakes (or three, or four) are always appreciated.
While spoiler warnings are not required, if you would like to spoiler cut anything, you can use the following code:
Prompting Guidelines
1. The prompt should begin with "Prompt:"
2. The fill should begin with "Fill:". Otherwise there should be no change to the title.
2. Include the names of the character(s) or pairing(s) in the title, followed by the kink or trope if applicable. Pairings should be formatted A/B(/C/D).
3. If you would like to provide warnings, please put them in the first line of the comment to prevent the titles from getting too long.
And example title: Prompt: Jon/Plant monster, sex pollen
Links
Ask a Mod
Fills Post
Chat and Off-Topic Discussion
AO3 Collection
1. All comments to the meme must be anonymous. Linking to fills on AO3/Tumblr/website of your choice is allowed, but comments here must still be posted anon.
2. Concrit is welcome if the author requests it, but character bashing, kink shaming, and hijacking threads by derailing prompts with contrary comments or asking for additions to the prompt are not allowed.
3. Warning for spoilers and subjects such as non-con, incest, underage, character death and worms is highly recommended, but not mandatory.
4. Crossover prompts between Rusty Quill Gaming and The Magnus Archives may be posted to both posts.
5. Please link all fills to the fill post.
6. Don't be an asshole. Mods reserve the right to freeze, screen or delete at their discretion.
7. While it should go without saying (kink meme and all) please be advised that much of the content here may not be appropriate for individuals under 18.
8. Update: All prompts can be filled by more than one person. Two cakes (or three, or four) are always appreciated.
While spoiler warnings are not required, if you would like to spoiler cut anything, you can use the following code:
<div tabindex="-1"><b>spoiler title</b><div>Some spoilery content.</div></div>
Prompting Guidelines
1. The prompt should begin with "Prompt:"
2. The fill should begin with "Fill:". Otherwise there should be no change to the title.
2. Include the names of the character(s) or pairing(s) in the title, followed by the kink or trope if applicable. Pairings should be formatted A/B(/C/D).
3. If you would like to provide warnings, please put them in the first line of the comment to prevent the titles from getting too long.
And example title: Prompt: Jon/Plant monster, sex pollen
Links
Ask a Mod
Fills Post
Chat and Off-Topic Discussion
AO3 Collection
Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (2/3)
Date: 2018-09-02 07:06 pm (UTC)“Elias, your Archivist is not very cooperative, is he?”
The introduction of Nikola’s jagged voice into his night catches him off guard, and Elias almost chokes on his brandy, hastily swallowing. The liquor sears down his throat, burning up the back of it where he’d nearly inhaled it. He sets his glass down on the nightstand and thinks that she probably has a point.
Elias is not fond of surprises. In particular, he has grown to hate Nikola’s brand of surprise, which he suspects is the point of her frequent and irrationally inconsistent interruptions. It’s been a bit less than two weeks – and two weeks, really, is unacceptable, to have an Archivist missing so utterly, wasting so much time that none of them are at the luxury of having – and her voice has managed to find him at work, in his car, in his kitchen, in the middle of a meeting with Peter and, on a singularly memorable occasion, in his shower.
That one continues to be a recursive sort of memory. The kind that bubbles up to the surface level of his thoughts more often than is strictly necessary. The hot water beating down on his back, demanding the tension drain from his shoulders, steam curling up thickly in the air, and Jon’s muffled, quickened breathing, like he was panting against his ear, against his neck, into the crook of his shoulder. A quiet sigh, when Nikola removed his gag that night and then the wet slide of her fingers, again, into his mouth, the now-familiar noises Jon made he tried to choke, and just as Elias was thinking of indulging himself, for once, Jon-
Jon bit down, and his shower was filled with the sound of crunching plastic and the sharp trill of Nikola’s indignant shriek.
A short-lived victory, but one that his Archivist no doubt found deeply satisfying. Elias actually heard him spit – blood, or saliva, perhaps even a bit of her own mannequin pieces – into Nikola’s face. Jon’s snarled but ultimately uninspired fuck you. And a pause, then, as Jon took a deep breath, frustration lending enough force to his question that Elias felt it second-hand, skin pinching into gooseflesh when Jon asked – demanded – when he compelled, where are we.
Nikola turned the bloody tape off. The following night Elias had been given front row seats to Nikola introducing Jon to a few of the many, many ways one could cause pain without leaving marks. Without harming skin. But she hadn’t gone near Jon’s mouth since.
“Honestly, Elias – and I can call you Elias, can’t I? – have you taught him anything at all?”
Elias sets his book on the bed spread beside him and writes off the next hour or so of his night as a loss.
“I’ve had to recruit helping hands. You’re in management, Elias – it’s simply not practical! Be good dears and say hello to the nasty, prying eye!”
“Goodday.”
“Pleasure.”
Wonderful. Elias considers leaving his bed. He’d rather not be there, if Nikola’s intent is to have him listen in on another round of Jon’s punitive sessions. Jon, himself, is being uncharacteristically silent. Even knowing that such a thing is futile, Elias closes his eyes and opens others, flashes of dark streets and dark shapes, the jerking silhouettes of mannequin bodies as they spin round and round on a stage, limbs held at broken-doll angles.
Too much to ask for, at this stage – that Nikola would slip, that those-he-doesn’t-know would make a mistake. They’ve made enough getting to this point at all.
“Does your Archivist get touched much?”
There are wet sounds. The slap of flesh on flesh and a muffled bark of complaint from Jon. Elias knows the answer to her question, of course; he’s quite sure they all do.
“Oh, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I always forget, Elias, that you can’t See what I’m doing, not at all! It must be so uncomfortable for you! So unfamiliar for you! Do you feel powerless, Elias?”
A pause. Jon makes a noise of discomfort, and Nikola’s voice is quieter, almost intimate but no less sharp – as if the voice she’s stolen for herself traded ligaments for garrote wires, lined her throat with broken glass - as she croons, “do you, Archivist?
“Right, let me set the scene for you, Elias. Your Archivist – I mentioned he wasn’t very cooperative, didn’t I? – well! Breekon’s holding his arms, and Hope is holding his legs – you know Breekon and Hope, don’t you?”
“Excuse me-”
“Hate to interrupt, Missus.”
“But he’s Breekon.”
“-And he’s Hope.”
Elias massages his temples.
“You get the idea!” Nikola doesn’t snap. She says it pleasant and chipper as ever, and wastes no time pretending to apologize. “We’re lotioning up his skin today, Elias. It’s so dry, and I’ve told you before – you really should take better care of your Archivists.”
Ah, yes, his Archivist. Elias can’t imagine the backlash he’d face if he tried to take better care of his Archivist. Even the most tenuous branches he extends to Jon are snapped at their bases, and piled up as kindling for his anger. Misplaced and misdirected. It’s growing pains, Elias knows, but it’s no less frustrating for that understanding.
“This isn’t the first time we’ve done this, Elias. Is it, Archivist?”
At that, Elias feels an unexpected surge of annoyance. This is the first he’s heard of it, but considering Nikola’s obsession with Jon’s skin, it can’t be unexpected.
“He’s so- oh, what is the word that I want? Tremulous? Starved? It’s really something, Elias, I do wish you could See – the way he tries not to lean into me every time I touch him. He’s doing his best to pull away, he really, really is, but- what is it? I bet, this is the nicest touch he’s gotten in a long, long while.”
Elias takes in a deep breath, holding it in his chest.
“Which means you haven’t been touching your Archivist! Is that right, dear?”
Jon makes another muffled noise. Elias can imagine his cheeks scorched red, above lips just as red, stretched wide around a gag stuffed deep into his mouth. He can picture, easily, Jon with his limbs held strained and splayed, spine arching even as he tries to bow himself away. The diametric oppositions that seem to be part and parcel of Jon himself, always of two minds about everything, leaving everyone except Elias to wonder where he would go.
Everyone except Elias, who has Seen Jon, his Archivist, who has no doubts as to what he will accomplish, eventually.
“No biting this time!” Nikola says, and Jon’s breath rushes out, unhindered – she’s taken his gag out again. Withdrawn her fingers just as quickly, Elias would imagine. It brings a sharp, satisfied smile to his face. “Why don’t you share with us how you’re feeling, Archivist? Your Master is listening in – he can’t See, but he is listening!”
“Go to hell,” Jon rasps, voice scratched and rough.
Nikola gives a tsking sound, disapproving but with a mockingbird’s mimicry of understanding. “Oh, you poor thing. I’ll treat you right, if your Elias isn’t going to.”
Jon takes in a quick breath, and it might be his imagination, but Elias thinks he can hear the thick sound of Jon swallowing.
“D-Don’t- Don’t touch me,” Jon says. Elias can’t imagine it’s effective.
“Now, that’s not going to do. Really, you should be thanking me!”
“Why the hell would I-” Jon’s question is cut short by a pained cry. What are they doing to him?
“Oh, he doesn’t seem to like that! Ease up, lovelies – we wouldn’t want to leave any permanent disfigurations!” Jon goes quiet, except for his panicked, heaving breaths. “Now, Archivist, we have rules, don’t we?” Silence, and then a pained groan. “Don’t we?”
“Yes,” Jon gasps.
“And? What’s the first rule? The most important rule?”
“No biting?” As ever, Jon chooses the perfect moment to practice his sarcasm. There’s a heavy slap of flesh on flesh, a grunt forced out of Jon.
“Care to have another go at it?”
“No questions,” Jon says, snarling.
“Very good, Archivist! And what should you be doing?”
“…Thank you.” Quiet and loathful, though whether that’s directed more towards himself or his captor is up for debate.
“Look at that, Elias! Oh, that’s right, you can’t look! But your Archivist is capable of learning!”
Jon makes a low sound of irritation, one that is Elias is quite familiar with.
“Now, let’s see, we’re starting with his chest, today, Elias! Have you seen his chest? Hmm? Have you shown your boss all these scars, Archivist? Does he know how many other things – creepy, crawly things, by the looks of it – have left their mark on you?”
Of course Elias knows. He has seen them, too, but Jon hasn’t shown them to him – not yet. He saw them when they were new, the filth of Jane Prentiss’ Hive still hanging limply from Jon’s skin, dead in the act of burrowing into his soft tissues. And he saw them as they healed, turned into pink, oval ridges scattered across Jon’s body – healed more slowly than they should have, Elias knew, because he Watched Jon worry at them. They were thin, silvery things now. Most of them.
And other ones, too. Older ones, that were already dulled bunches of scar tissue by the time Elias knew he should be watching, that had been raw and then sore and then forgotten long before they’d ever met.
“Do you, Elias?”
Yes.
He imagines, sometimes, Jon showing them to him. Would it worry his Archivist, how Elias’ hands and lips would find them all, unerringly? Probably. As if that, somehow – physical exposure – was the worst thing he had to fear. The feeling that he has already been laid bare by their God.
What should worry Jon is the welling tide of desire Elias has, an urging deeper than his own flesh and blood could account for, to cover each and every one of them. To transform every mark and gnarled wind of mangled tissue into sigils for the Eye. To overwrite the claims any one or thing else had dared to try and lay upon his Archivist - their Archivist, Elias amends, because Elias knows well what fuels him, what serves him, what he serves in turn – to warp them with tooth and nail until there is no denying who Jonathan belongs to, scrawled plain across his skin for all to see.
“Maybe I should leave a mark! What do you say, Elias – can I call you Elias? Would you like to see what we do to people’s skin?”
“I thought you just stole them,” Jon sneers. Elias finds himself bracing to hear whatever punishment Nikola so enjoys doling out, but the Dancer just laughs, the sound like crystal straining tight and then cracking under pressure.
“Oh we do much, much more than that, Archivist! Why, just look at this one!”
Jon makes a noise half way between horror and disgust, and Elias’ lips twitch upwards at one corner, wondering what Nikola’s decided to show him.
“W-What- ah, you-” Jon’s talking over himself, thoughts racing faster than his mouth, “wait, just- wait! T-the dance! Uh, wouldn’t- something like, god, like that, it would ruin the- the costume.”
Elias is mildly certain Jon just referred to his own skin as a costume.
“Do you think so?” There’s the wet sound of something fleshy slapping onto a hard surface; Elias assumes Nikola dropped the remains of whatever mutilated creature she’d been holding to the floor. “I think it adds a touch of, let’s say character to the ensemble! We’re not looking for perfection, after all. Well, not from you.”
Jon heaves out a shuddering breath. Elias can hear every one of his frantic inhalations. Nikola had a point, before – Jon makes his emotions too obvious.
“Shall we ask your Master what he thinks? Oh, silly me – he still can’t See! I just keep forgetting!”
“Wonderful idea,” Jon says, “Elias, what do you think? Just a light skinning, or would you like to see your Archivist chewed up a bit first?”
Jon practically spit the word out – sarcastic, bitter; angry with him, no doubt – but it still sends a pleasant shiver down Elias’ spine to hear him say it.
Nikola laughs, delighted. “Careful, Archivist, that mouth is going to get in you trouble! Haven’t you learned that, yet? Oh, Elias, I would say I’d rip his throat out – and what good is an Archivist without that, hmm? – but I think that would be doing you a favor!
Such a pretty throat it is,” she says, and there’s a dull thumping sound, and Jon groaning, low and quiet. “It would look quite fetching all splayed open, wouldn’t it?”
“I-I-I’m partial to it as-is, thanks.” Jon’s voice is shaking.
“Plenty of time for you to change your mind,” she says. “Or is there? Is there time?”
“It’s- hard to say, isn’t it? What time it is. I mean, it’s- it’s dark in here. I-I can only see- wax figures, no windows, no sounds of traffic-”
Details that could have been helpful, if they weren’t dealing with the Stranger. Elias smiles, even as the sound of Jon being slapped again echoes in his room.
“None of that, Archivist,” Nikola says, but she doesn’t sound amused anymore. “Your Master isn’t going to come rescue you, and you haven’t made many other allies, have you? The Eye Watches and it Knows, but what good is any of that if it can’t do anything about it? Your Master is going to Watch- well, not Watch, not really; he’s going to hear me peel every inch of skin from your still screaming meat, and then he’ll watch you Dance, but it won’t be you, will it? It will be me, inside you!
Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
There’s a long moment where Elias can hear only the whirr of the tape recorder. A quiet choking noise, and then Jon gasping for breath. He pictures a slender, painted mannequin with her limbs at subtly wrong angles, her hands wrapped around his Archivist’s throat. The row of interlinked bruises she’s no doubt left like a collar around his neck.
He has to forcibly relax his fists.
“Ah, maybe I’ll be leaving your Archivist with some marks after all, Elias!”
It’s quiet again. Something squelches; Elias wonders if it’s something that used to be a person. Jon’s ragged breathing goes fast again.
“There we are! There’s a good little Archivist!” Jon says nothing, but Elias can picture the withering glare he must be aiming towards Nikola. “Now, before I got all distracted, there was something I wanted to share with you today, Elias – I can call you Elias, can’t I?”
“St-stop,” Jon says, weakly.
“No more interrupting, dear; it’s time to use your manners and let your betters do the talking,” she chides. “Now, Elias – I can call you Elias – I have mentioned that he’s just so reactive to being touched, haven’t I?”
A tight sense of anticipation stirs through his limbs. Elias finds himself straightening in bed.
“Your Archivist tries to put on a brave face, doesn’t he? Play the stoic? He’s no good at it, but he does tries!”
Jon’s making- sounds. Noises. They come through muffled, like he’s biting his lip, or his tongue, quiet literally.
“But there are just these places he can’t stand to be touched! Do you know where they are, Elias? Have you touched them?”
“Stop- stop,” Jon breathes out between heavy gasps of air. “Don’t touch me, damn it.”
“This throat of his, for instance. Why, if I use my nails, just so, down the side there-”
Jon gives a long, drawn out groan, of a spectacularly different quality than the ones that have come before it, though no less pained for it. Elias sucks in a sharp breath.
“But that’s not all, Elias! Oh, what am I saying, you know, don’t you? Don’t you know? Don’t you want to know?”
Elias wants to know. It’s his nature, of course.
And he knows some of them, already. Has Watched Jon bring himself off – sporadically, never nearly as often as Elias would expect – clutch himself harshly, scrape his own nails against the seam of his hip.
“Be a dear and spread his legs, won’t you, Hope?”
Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-02 07:07 pm (UTC)“Right you are! Further, fuuuuurther – there, that’s perfect. Comfortable, Archivist?” Nikola asks.
“Fuck off,” Jon says, tight and strained.
“Wonderful! Do try and keep in mind that it’s not your bones we need for the Dance, hmm?”
Elias wonders how he’s arranged. He pictures broad hands on Jon’s thighs, a thick body between his spread legs, pinning them back and wide, putting his Archivist on display.
“You see, Elias – oh, you don’t, you don’t See, not at all – it’s right- here-” she says, and Jon makes a soft whining noise which she soothes away. “Yes, I think you’re getting the picture, aren’t you?”
What part of him is she touching? It’s pure speculation, but Elias thinks of the tendon at the basin of his hips, at his inner thighs, Jon spread to the point of strain and Nikola’s fingers rubbing into tight, trembling connective tissue.
“Do you think his cock is hard, Elias? Should I tell you?” Jon stutters out something and then sighs. “Would that spoil the surprise?”
“Stop that, just- just stop,” Jon moans, and there’s a breath, and he says, quietly, “please.”
“Oh! Did you hear that Elias? Do you know what I’m doing to him? Do you like your Archivist’s little cock? I think I’ll tell you – it’s hard, but I don’t think he likes this. Do you like this?”
“F-fuck-”
Another slap.
“Tell me you like it, Archivist.”
“No, I-”
Another slap. Or perhaps a punch, one of the heavy fists of her servants cracking into something tender.
“Tell me you like it – it’s easy, you can repeat after me. Nikola, I like the way you’re touching me.”
Silence.
“Well, it looks like he doesn’t want to play along anymore! But you do, don’t you Elias? You want me to keep going? There are so many other ways to touch your Archivist, aren’t there?”
“Don’t,” Jon says, again, redundant, and useless. “You- you don’t have to-”
“I don’t have to? Oh, but I want to!”
Jon cries out sharply.
“Have you been inside your Archivist, Elias?”
Elias lets his head flop back against his headboard. His cock is hard and straining beneath the sheets, tenting them slightly, but he keeps his hands twisting in the comforter.
“This part of him’s even softer than his throat. Tighter, too, if you could believe it! I can barely-” she grunts with exertion and Jon gives a bitten off shout- “-shove two fingers in there! I think we’ll work up to three – or four, who knows! – today!”
One hand on Jon’s cock, the other with fingers buried up to the hilt inside him. Elias imagines how he would crook his fingers inside him, those hitching breaths and muffled sobs dragged out of his Archivist through pleasure, through want, of course he would want it, of course-
“Do you like this, Archivist?”
“I-” Jon starts off acidic, cut off by his own noises, and there’s a new cast to his voice when it returns. “I-I like it.”
Quiet. Resigned.
“What was that, dear?”
“I- Nikola,” Jon recites, grunting as the breath is fucked out of his lungs. “I-I like the way you’re touching me.”
“Of course you do,” she says. The slick sounds of her hands moving continues, Jon’s increasingly distressed cries in time to the thrust of her fingers inside him. “You’re nothing more than a tool, begging for a Master to use you. Elias has taught you as much, hasn’t he? Tell me he has.”
“Yes,” Jon gasps.
Already at the point of agreeing to what she says. Not because he believes the filth she’s spewing from her mouth.
“Yes, what? What are you?”
“A-a tool,” Jon says. “E-Elias, he taught-”
“Do you want me to stop, Archivist?”
“Yes! Please stop, stop-”
Another, louder cry, sharper, higher. Elias presses his hand to himself through his bedding, hissing at the relief the action brings.
“Oops! My hand must have slipped again. Three fingers now, dear.”
“Stop, Christ, damn it, fuck you-”
“And we had been doing so well, Archivist! Elias, I’m not even touching his cock now. Do you think he could come like this? Just on my hand? My fingers are almost all the way out – he’s twitchy inside and out! – and now I’m pushing them back in, slowly, very, very slowly.”
“St-stop,” Jon demands brokenly.
Elias is thinking about burying himself deep within his Archivist, slowly, very slowly, transforms the words into half-formed pleas.
Don’t st-stop.
And his mind replays the briefest snippet of Jon’s voice, plaintive, desperate: E-Elias.
“That’s not going to work with me, Archivist – you should know better! I’m not a nice person! I’m not even a person!”
He can hear her pick up the pace, suddenly, the squelch of her hand, the little noises forced out of Jon in time to them.
“Elias on the other hand, well, he might be more inclined to listen to you. Why don’t you ask him?”
“A-ask him-” Jon’s question is ended in something like a sigh, a disbelieving sort of sound.
“Oh, excuse me, Elias, I didn’t mean to interrupt your Archivist. I was just so curious how far I could spread my fingers in here! Now, as I was saying, I think you should really ask your Master to stop.”
“I- ah, I don’t understand,” Jon says.
“Ask Elias to stop. He could put a stop to this, couldn’t he? That’s what you think, isn’t it Archivist?” Another grunt from Jon. “Ask. Him.”
“E-Elias,” Jon breathes; the hot surge of arousal is soured just as quickly as it swells. “Please, stop.”
“Oh, you know your boss; you’ll have to better than that!”
“Please, Elias- oh, god.” Jon’s breathing has picked up again, and there are more noises, the rhythmic slap of flesh of flesh (though one of those, Elias knows, is not really flesh, not anymore), the slick squeals of lubricant.
“Come on, Archivist,” Nikola urges.
“Don’t- god, don’t- stop, please, Elias.”
His voice is higher, wretched, and Elias can picture his body tying up tight with corded tension, hips canting into Nikola’s hands.
“Keep going, Archivist, you’re so nearly there!”
“Ah- fuck, Elias, d-don’t let them- make it stop, please,” Jon begs.
Begs.
And comes with a trembling sort of silence, evident only by the erratic pattern of his breathing, of Nikola’s excited cooing. The way his voice snaps and breaks and falls silent.
“Oh, sorry dear – I guess he wasn’t listening after all!”
There’s silence, Jon panting to catch his breath.
“Maybe next time!”
A sob, a laugh, and the tape recorder shuts itself off.
Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-02 08:28 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for posting the continuation! I've really been looking forward to it and once again, it was everything I wished and so much more. Your writing is as always absolutely beautiful!
And your character voices are just amazing. Nikola is, of course, the shining star, but I also love the way you write Jon and Elias. And the interruptions by Breekon and Hope, who keep getting mixed up, that was a delightful mood whiplash during all the horror poor Jon is experiencing here. I just love his defiance. Biting Nikola, trying so hard to give Elias clues about his location, cursing her out at every opportunity... He's so brave. But then, the hopeless resignation.
And Elias' reactions, which are once again just absolutely everything, the way he warps what is happening into a fantasy about his Archivist while he's unable to do anything about his suffering. And he part where he thinks about overwriting all of Jon's scars is so rtmi, so that was an absolutely lovely addition.
Nikola making Jon beg Elias to stop it, that was perfect and cruel. Poor Jon. And he has two more weeks of that ahead of him...
Thank you again!
Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-03 12:29 am (UTC)I appreciate hearing that. <3 I love all of these characters so much, and as always, Nikola is a pleasure to write. I'm really hoping we'll hear some more from her in the upcoming episodes! This installment was basically 'Jon, stop talking: the fic.'
Elias making the best of a bad situation, really. And I love Elias being possessive, even when - maybe especially when - other things are messing with his Archivist. Secret third part incoming of Elias welcoming Jon home to the Archives very thoroughly. :P
Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-03 12:11 pm (UTC)No worries, it was absolutely worth the wait! And you wrote other awesome fics in the meantime! :D
"Stop talking" is really a piece of advice he should take to heart occasionally, but then again, one of the things I love so much about him is that he simply does NOT know when to stop!
Yeah, possessive Elias is just the best! <3
And I would totally read that hahaRe: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-15 09:44 am (UTC)Anyone you want killed because uh
Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-15 12:42 pm (UTC)Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-15 01:33 pm (UTC)\o/ I'm thrilled to hear that!
Re: Prompt: Nikola/Jon, Elias/Jon (3/3)
Date: 2018-09-16 12:41 am (UTC)