#when i say jon wanting to date him is bad taste i am saying it with nothing but affection

[sparky-is-spiders]

Hopelessly charmed by the idea of like. Jon just has Shit Taste in men. Like his taste in women? Questionable. His primary type seems to be "could kill him dead" and sometimes that goes well (Georgie) and sometimes it doesn't (Gertrude) but with men? Terrible. Godawful. You give him a set of men's dating profiles and he will always pick the worst available option without fail. Has a 70-30 split on older authority figures vs guys who want to "fix" him (who invariably get mad when he fails to be fixed). Every goddamned time. Best case scenario the relationship blows up in like three months in a way that catches everyone else in the blast radius (Martin) worst case scenario they're obsessively codependent and having some hot-and-cold affair that blows up two and a half years later and everyone around them gets stuck wading through the fallout (Elias). To be clear (since I'm approaching from goofy comedy angle) these aren't abusive relationships they're just. Bad. The kind of thing you see on r/relationships where it's so obvious they're going to break up tomorrow over the reddit comments they'll split over an entirely unrelated argument next week (not that I can imagine Jon posting on reddit tbh).

Also yes yes most of this IS because I love judgemental outsider PoVs. What of it?

…

[thatpunkmaximoff]

[Book One of..]

Story: 5 out of 5 Smut: 2 out of 5

I honestly wanted this book so bad because everyone recommended it as a Peter Pan retelling. Imagine my surprise, however, when I read the author’s note, and she states it’s NOT a retelling. But I still read it because I wanted to read a story from the villain’s pov and oh my god am I glad I read it. I am in love with James/Hook and I don’t care that he’s a bad guy.

Wendy, daughter of Peter, starts off as the naive girl that Hook is looking to take advantage of because of what Peter has done to him in the past. But as her rose tinted glasses come off, she becomes the young woman who you will come to adore and root for. And James… well you’ll be up and down with his character. I knew he was the bad guy going in, but I wanted to throttle him at one point.

I guess you can say this is a reimagining of the Peter Pan characters in a modern world, but instead of rooting for Peter Pan, Wendy, and Tink… you’ll be begging Hook for a taste of the dark side.

I am stoked to see what else Emily has written for this series!

* So we start off with a murder. Nice. Seems James’s uncle deserved it.

* Oh shit. James saw Wendy through video feed and immediately wants to defile her. But it’s Wendy’s friend who is hoping for his attention 😬

* Ohhhh. He got her to to agree to a date 😏

* So that’s why he doesn’t like the ticking sound. Damn.

* Oh shit. James walked up to Wendy and Maria is PISSED.

* Lol Maria is such a bitch.

* Score. He secured the date.

* Goddamn. James has got a mouth on him.

* The way he has her grind on his lap… holy shit.

* I somewhat knew what I was getting into, but damn… I’m gonna be heartbroken when Wendy finds out James is using her.

* Wendy’s dad is a dick and Tina Belle a bitch. I can’t wait until James gets his hand on them.

* Lol Moira tried to make Wendy jealous and James wasn’t having it 😂

* Oh shit. Wendy gave him her virginity. There’s gonna be a lot of crying later, isn’t there?

* So the dad doesn’t care for his son and James has noticed that Jon (the brother) looks nothing like Wendy. Could he be the product of an affair?

* Why do I have a feeling something is gonna happen to Ru?

* Uh oh, James. You going soft for Wendy and her brother Jon.

* I fucking knew something was going to happen to Ru 😩 and now James thinks Wendy had a hand in it. Fuck! I can’t wait for him to murder her dad Michael. To murder Pan.

* Holy shit. Did he just kidnap her?! He has it all wrong!

* I can’t wait to see when he realizes he royally fucked up.

* Starkey, you’re a little traitorous motherfucker, aren’t you? I know it was you who was supposed to have Ru’s back. You’re too nervous.

* “Just remember, that whenever things feel bleak, all situations are temporary. It’s not your circumstance that determines your worth, it’s how you rise from the ashes after everything burns.”

* “Every good bitch needs a pretty collar.” — oh my god. I can’t wait for her to bitch slap you 😂

* FINALLY! She had no idea, you dumb shit. Now prepare to beg for forgiveness.

* Wow. Her dad was really gonna let her die. Fuck him.

* Shit. Peter burned down James’s club.

* Damn. James burned all Peter’s planes 😂

* wtf was that with Moira? And how the fuck did Wendy disappear?! I don’t trust Smee 🤔

* Oh so Smee just assumed she left when really she was just sitting on the dock. But still, James is pissed 😬

* She caved way too fast once his fingers got in her. Get it together, Wendy!

* Croc? As in his uncle? wtf! And of course there’s an explosion just as the woman’s name is about to be given.

* Fuck! Starkey is a traitor! It wasn’t an explosion. Starkey shot their hostage right before he spilled the beans. He’s protecting his boss!

* Damn. Wendy’s that good of a fuck that James is in love, huh 😂 Well.. I’m kind of glad she decided to stay. I don’t trust anyone else to have her back like James does.

* “For the record, I would give you the world. You simply have to ask. You want kids? Done. You want to stay here and never work again? Done. You want to watch the world burn?” // “Let me guess, you’ll set it on fire?” // “No, darling. I’ll hand you the match and stand at your back, watching you become Queen of the ashes.”

* Moira is a traitor?! I knew the bitch was sleezy, but this is… wow. I can’t wait for James to kill her.

* Fuck you, Tina! Ugh. These women are pissing me off 😂

* I fucking called it. Smee! You asshole. And cousins? Why are you being such a little bitch.

* So Peter saved James? And James has a brother?! wtf. Tina better fucking get some punishment for flipping out on Wendy.

* Oh shit. It’s Jon! And seriously, fucking Tina. Someone bitch slap her!

* THANK YOU!!

* Aww. They got their happily ever after 🥹

[snowangeldotmp3]

normal things on main because i am paranoid of people wondering who the rando in ask box is. anyways. johnathan and robin rr:stud thoughts mayhaps?

LU!!! hi <3

ok ok rob and jon hc's/thoughts here we go!!

i think jonathan feels bad/somewhat responsible for will's disappearance bc in the first episode he says that he was working bc he thought they could use the extra cash and instead of being the one to make sure will got home, jonathan was working. i think robin, even from the hospital bed, would reassure him that it was not his fault. it was the demogorgon's fault for picking them, specifically. i think jonathan thanks robin too for keeping will safe in the upside down, and that he's genuinely really grateful that both of them came back.

ONCE ROBIN IS ADOPTED, they share clothes. if jonathan's hair gets a little too long they legit look like twins. one time they were both doing dishes while bob was over and he couldn't even tell them apart. he doesn't know how joyce doesn't get them mixed up. (she's been calling them twins for months now.)

they are both music snobs. my god. (affectionate) "talking heads is better!" "bullshit, new order is better and you know it, jackass." "do we have to do this at the dinner table?"(will) "YES." "i brought pieee!" (bob, walking into the middle of the shitstorm)

that being said i think they do care for each other. like if names and things are thrown at either of them in the halls of hawkins high, they Will throw hands. (if nancy doesn't beat them to it.)

speaking of nancy...jancy spending more time together at the byers house and robin's already got a crush on nancy but it all just becomes. Too Much (this is also around the time robin comes out to joyce)

jonathan being the one to tell robin that steve can actually be a pretty decent guy when he wants to be and she's like "no. NO WAY. u have to be lying to me." and he's like, "it's true!!! i did beat his ass though." "YOU DID WHAT."

they're both movie snobs too, but robin is worse than jonathan when it comes to "Tastes in Film"

they're both menaces when joyce starts dating bob. i don't have anything else to add to that you just gotta take my word for it

this is all i have for now <3 robin buckley byers YOU ARE REAL. TO ME.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Roy Harper Dating HC (Request):

Batfam:

This guy is already experienced with the Batfam

He meets you through missions and then gets closer and closer without the help of Jason

That helps a lot since Jason can trust him more

jay knows that you have a good sense of placement and that you can take care of yourself

So he just gives his blessing and moves on

Roy is the kind of guy that Bruce doesn't want you dating

He's the bad boy the dads are always trying to keep their daughters away but eventually, over time Roy earns his trust and blessing more and more

It starts out with him taking you on nice, simple dates

From beach walks and junk food picnics to an amusement park and movies, he makes sure to spend time with you

After any very stressful week of solving cases and patrol, he pulls you onto the couch to watch stupid reality TV or Star Wars movies

Totally an older- classic movie fan as well

Dude's a fanboy to things and you cannot change my mind

he stays in the cave working on his arrows and technique while you either train or work cases

Always teasing you and flirting

If you get a costume change, he notices (like really notices 🙃)

When Bruce annoys you, Roy is the kind of person that'll throw his fingers up like the bat ears on Bruce's suit and mock him

*Roy running around chaotically* I AM VenGeAnCe, I AM THE NigHT, I AM BaTMAn

it's pretty funny but he'd rather die than be caught by anyone but you since that'd be scary if it were B and embarrassing if it were anyone else

Superfam:

This dude SLOW BURN ROMEO AND JULIET

Clark does not approve

Basically the only way that you can get to Roy is when you're on a mission or with the league

Maybe you'd also be hanging with the Batfam since that's a thing for the Super and Bat kids to do

Jon and Kon aint no snitches so they say NOTHING

Kon does make the pact with Roy that he won't say anything but if Roy hurts you, it's done for him

Clark is very sure to make sure that you're always safe and sound

Which is annoying

At first you only really see Roy as the player guy with issues whom your dad always said to stay away from

and of course Superman knows best so you went with it

Lois knew that you'd have a crush on him eventually

After months and months of slowly getting more and more comfortable with Roy, you two went on your first date

It was secret and you had to make sure that your dad would never know

The time that Clark finally accepted it was when you were shot with Kryptonite by Luthor

Clark was devastated that he couldn't get to you since he was tied up at the moment during the same mission a few blocks away

Roy was the first on the scene and extracted the bullet making sure to give you an antidote

It saved your life and Clark owed it to him

You're always hanging out now

he teaches you to shoot with his bow and is impressed when you already know since it's a farm thing

Though he does teach you things that you wouldn't've gotten at the farm

You'll fly him up into the air to practice bird's eye shooting

best team work

Basically your high school sweetheart turned long lasting romance

Speedsters:

Crack heads

you two are insanely chaotic all the time

Going everywhere

Doing everything

Basically you have weekly movie nights, always running around, road trips, insane patrols and missions

Like ya'll do be doin the most

Barry and the rest accept him and love him

Wally is already close with Roy and so he's cool with it

He trusts Roy

Roy basically has the time of his life every single day

Flirting and pun gods

You, Jason, Roy, Wally, Star, Artemis, and Bazzaro are basically the Outlaw Justice League which is pretty awesome

The Justice League but mouthier and more likely to flip off a diplomat

Not that they didn't deserve it

He always makes sure that there's food

Very very important because a hangry Speedster is a terrifying site

He's also prone to having a very might metabolism

So there's always food

He likes energy drinks and was terrified the first time that you got your hands on one

It was non-stop chaos and now he hides caffeine and everything energy drink wise from you

absolutely not happening

Green Lantern:

He is always hanging out with you and that's that

Best friends to lovers

always wants to know things about your ring

Literally makes you create a crossbow or bow and arrows so that he can saw he's used the Green Lantern's weapons

Just so that he can do that, that's the only reason

May or may not have convinced you to create a massive crossbow so he can launch himself at a villain or something stupidly dangerous that you didn't have time to say no to

Always playing pranks on each other whether that be basic pranks or full on elaborate kind of collapse on floor pranks from laughing

Roy always misses you on your missions outside of Earth and makes sure to ask tons of questions when you get back since sometimes the missions are actually really really cool

You drag him to the League's tower since you have to go there for briefings

The best road trip music taste

Just a random thing but he probably has great music

Just sayin

makes you watch old movies especially sci-fi even if you've already seen them

Immaculate tv show taste

You create some really awesome archery courses for him to run which really help with training

All request are completed and coming out within the next few days, went ahead and got this done since my best friend asked for it lmao but they are coming quickly and daily, plus the Dick and then Bruce series are to come

[theskywaslookingback]

tma fic recs please ? 🤲🏽

Oooooo yes! I never get asks like this, thank you!

[my tumblr fic recs tag is here for browsing]

I had to put it under a cut because it got...entirely too long barely half an hour into making it, sorry.

Under 5k

means of cartharsis by orphan_account [G] [965]

“You’d think – you’d that at this point nightmares would be second nature for me, hm?” Martin says, forcing a smile even as he tugs the blanket tighter around his trembling shoulders.

It’s meant to be a bit funny. Instead of laughing, though, Jon frowns.

“No,” he says simply, and matter-of-factly wipes the moisture from Martin’s cheeks with a tissue like he’s a crying child.

A Proper Sleepover by Goodluckdetective (scorpiantales) [T] [1.4k]

In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely, everyone has a chance to savor a moment of respite. As much as they can get these days. If only to talk about things that long need to be spoken.

“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”

“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”

Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.”

where i go, when i go there by rainny_days [T] [1.7k]

Martin wants Jon to hold his hand. Martin doesn't want Jon to hold his hand.

It's complicated.

all the other ways by AptlyNamed [G] [2.2k]

Jon loses his first soul mark when he is eight years old.

a palace from ruin by bibliocratic [G] [2.2k]

"What're you sorry for?” Martin asks.

“I should have asked,” Jon says finally. “I'd never.... you were always so private about him, so I mean, at first I wasn't sure he was even yours, but then – when you, when you went with Peter, and I – he was so small, and I thought he was h-half-dead. S-so I picked him up and I carried him. And I'm sorry.”

interiors by doomcountry [T] [2.7k]

In the doorway, he fumbles with his keys. Their sound is loud in the silent stairwell. You don’t remember getting here.

searching for a light (for a right) by Kalgalen [T] [2.7k]

Some people make the mistake of assuming he's naive about sex, for the simple reason he hasn't dated in a while. Tim has called him a prude, at one point, and implied that he was somehow afraid of the intimacy required by the act; he wasn’t entirely wrong, but this definitely isn’t the reason for Jon's disinterest and general bafflement toward what most people seemed to consider as "what makes them human".

Jon simply hasn't found the right person. That is all it is: high standards, and a reticence to let people in.

(In which Jon finds out society is wrong about what a romantic relationship should be.)

how to plant a garden in rocky soil by treeprince [T] [2.9k]

Sometimes you just need a good pair of hands to work out all the kinks in your life.

Good thing Martin has two.

A Weather In The Flesh by cuttooth [G] [3k]

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

*

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

I'll bring the motion by callmearctus [T] [3.1k]

A long series of kidnappings and international flights leaves its own special mark on someone. Before the Unknowing, Jon is a mess.

Martin helps.

A Bread Made In Heaven by Againstme [G] [3.3k]

Martin moves over and watches how his boyfriend handles the dough. He's awkward with it, tentative and gentle, as if he's scared of hurting it somehow.

"Is this, uh, am I doing this right?" Jon asks, still slowly stretching out the dough and folding it onto itself.

"Well," he says shifting closer to Jon again, "you could be applying more pressure. Here, let me help you out, dear."

Martin moves fully behind Jon, and reaches around him, putting his hands on top of his boyfriend's. Jon inhales sharply, but doesn't say anything else, just lets Martin's hand rest on top of his.

Martin's hands are bigger, but not big enough to entirely envelop the other's hands, and Jon's hands are much, much warmer than his own are. To see what they're doing, Martin moves his head to look over Jon's shoulder. Though he can't see his boyfriend's face from this angle, he can see how it is slowly growing red at the edge of his vision. He decides not to tease him on it, instead content with letting a smile spread across his face and slowly guiding their joined hands in the proper motion.

Or, Martin teaches Jon how to make bread.

stumbling and spinning by lady_mab [G] [3.3k]

“Things happened,” Jon says demurely, trying to untangle Gerry’s fingers, but it only results in him getting pulled in so Gerry can kiss him properly. “It’s not all that bad.”

“I suppose not,” Gerry says with a sigh, sitting back upright. “You somehow managed to snag an incredible boyfriend out of it.”

It takes a solid few seconds before realization clicks in Martin’s brain. “You mean me?” [...]

“You have to admit, Jon has great tastes,” Gerry teases.

nothing sweeter than local honey by beeclaws [T] [3.4k]

So Tim is content, one arm leaned into the spray, waiting for the water to warm, enjoying the feeling of homecoming underneath the gentle fuzz of jetlag, when he hears gasping, panicked breaths coming from the other room.

Tim and Jon, in the aftermath, relearning how to be okay.

When Words are Inadequate by Mugatu [T] [3.8k]

Meals and the preparation of are, for want of a better word, informative. Fact gathering. A place where they can fill in the gaps of their knowledge of the other.

Jon cooks for Martin, and they learn more about each other.

go softly by doomcountry [T] [4k]

And there is nothing else besides this.

Imago by cuttooth [T] [4k]

“Jon?” he asks tentatively, tightening his grip around the poker as it slips against his sweaty palm. The antennae twitch, and suddenly Martin knows that it’s Jon, the knowledge sliding into his mind in a surge of desperate affection, the same profound love he felt that first time he truly saw Jon in the fog of the Lonely.

“Oh,” he whispers. “It really is you.”

*

Jon changes, but he’s still the same to Martin.

shoreline by bibliocratic [G] [4.1k]

“Martin," Tim says kindly, tipsily, only mildly slurring. "Dearest, dearest Martin. You're wankered, babe. Last train to Stockwell fucked off hours ago because it is now piss off o'clock in the morning, and there's a sofa with your exact name on it at my place. Thought you said you wanted some handsome fellow to take you back to his tonight?”

Or: The OG Archive crew go drinking, Martin comes out, and gets some well deserved TLC. In that order.

get your epitaph right by bibliocratic [G] [4.2k]

Martin's daemon has tried on the shape of dogs and lizards and snakes and horses, and even – once, when he was younger and Mum took him to the seaside, a fish.

Martin's never seen his soul in the dressing of a spider before.

i've known the warmth of your doorways by beeclaws [T] [4.2k]

'I’m always in pain, Jon wants to say, even as he dismisses the thought as melodramatic. Between his growing collection of old wounds and scar tissue, the supernatural hunger for statements that hasn’t been truly satiated in months, and the unpredictable aches and strains his body threw off day by day long before he ever set foot in the Institute, some level of pain and discomfort follows Jon wherever he goes now. He is used to being in pain. He’s not used to someone holding his hand as he suffers through it.'

Jon catalogs the comforts he receives, and wonders how long he will be allowed to keep them.

lay down your weary head by Zykaben [T] [4.6k]

Jon has been running himself ragged, searching for every scrap of information he can possibly find about the Unknowing. He's exhausted and sleep-deprived but he can't bring himself to take a break, not now.

Luckily, Tim and Martin are there to make sure that their boyfriend gets the care and rest he needs.

only the sweetest words remain by bluejayblueskies [T] [4.6k]

This isn't how things are supposed to go, right? Jon remembers those ratty paperbacks from the charity shops, dime-a-dozen romance novels with broken bindings and yellowing pages and words that spoke of love and passion and sexuality in prose that was more than a bit too mature for someone whose age hadn’t yet reached double digits. Stolen glances turn into dinner dates turn into passionate kisses turn into…

Well, he’d never actually read those parts of the books, because it had all seemed so deeply uncomfortable and gross. But he got the picture.

Or, Jonathan Sims, on being loved

5k-20k

and they keep not letting go by Marianne_Dashwood [G] [5k]

It’s an electric feeling, something strange and new and familiar all at once, even though he has been holding Martin’s hand for most of the day. His stomach swoops, like he is standing on the edge of the precipice of realisation and staring into the void of unknowing. But at the same time, he does know. In this instant of contact between them, the last few years of cups of tea and small smiles and momentary glances, of panic and fear and only feeling safe with Martin’s solid presence in the room, despite his paranoia, rush into him, and oh, oh oh.

ready to call this love by yewgrove [G] [5.6k]

How is Martin supposed to tell Jon that he panicked, stupidly, when the lovely old lady down the village asked him what they were doing in this part of the world? Got the shopping! Oh, by the way, we're married now! Whole village thinks we're on our honeymoon, hope you don't mind!

Prenons-nous la main by luftballons99 [T] [6k]

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

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

This Must Be The Place by cuttooth [T] [6k]

“You said – you said we were going home,” Martin says softly.

“I did,” says Jon, and is grateful that Martin doesn’t comment on him calling the Archives home. “I – I don’t really know where to go. I, uh, I don’t have a flat anymore, I don’t think. We could find a hotel?”

“Let’s go to my place,” says Martin. His hand squeezes Jon’s, more gently than before. Most importantly, Jon notes, he doesn’t let go.

*

Jon and Martin go home for a little while.

Small Things, Simple Acts by ZaliaChimera [T] [6.6k]

Even after leaving London, Jon and Martin are not free, not really. Maybe they never will be.

But for now they can be themselves, and maybe in the end, that's enough.

house by tomatoes [G] [9k]

Martin can take care of himself.

roses, roses, roses by acetheticallyy (judesstfrancis) [T] [9.3k]

Rose scented laundry detergent. Running into Jon in the breakroom. Running into Jon on his way back to his desk. Rose scented detergent. Running into Jon. Roses. Jon. Roses, roses, roses.

a deeply annoying child by ajkal2 [G] [9.6k]

Jon is hiding under the desk.

----

There's a child in the Archives, who shouldn't be there.

Inseparable by voiceless_terror [T] [10.3k]

“You can stay.” The voice interrupts his internal panic, and he looks over to find Jon studiously avoiding his gaze, staring hard at a neighboring bush. Martin wonders what caused his sudden change of heart. “But you have to sit on the other side. And don’t talk to me.”

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood meet as children. Some things change, others do not.

i'm almost me again, you're almost you by gruhukens [G] [12k]

After a second Jon steps in towards him, close enough that Martin flinches, but all Jon does is put two fingers under his chin with his free hand and raise it until Martin can’t duck away. Jon has never touched him so casually before – at least, not until today, and it raises a lot of thoughts and feelings that Martin is trying very hard not to process.

Much like a lot of other things that have happened, he thinks. Not that it’s horrible or terrifying or numbing like everything else has been: it’s just another thing on the list of things he doesn’t have the capacity to deal with.

---

In the wake of the Lonely, there's a lot that Martin doesn't really want to think about.

hello my old heart by firebirdsuite [T] [15.8k]

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

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Over 20k

The Kindness of Strangers by TheOestofOCs [M] [23k]

It was easier to treat Jon like a monster when he wasn’t shivering against his back, brokenly humming—wait, was that…

“Are you trying to do ‘Hey, Jude’?” Tim demanded.

Jon stopped, stiffening. “Mm hrmh mm mmh hm,” he said defensively.

“You really can’t hold a tune, can you, boss?”

*

It was just an ordinary walk to a restaurant. Tim had insisted that if they were going to talk, there would be no tape recorders or weird Archives ghosts listening in. A bit of fresh air wouldn’t kill him, Tim had said. What could go wrong?

By the time Jon spots the white delivery van, it’s much too late.

The Stranger kidnaps Jon. Tim comes along for the ride.

Misjudged by ShastaFirecracker [T] [36.5k]

Martin's been a longtime listener of What the Ghost, so when Georgie gives a shoutout to her flatmate's Twitch channel during a Q&A, he checks it out - only to discover that her flatmate is also his most terrifying coworker at his new job. The first time they crossed paths, Jon yelled at him for incompetence. But on the streams, Martin sees an entirely different person - someone fun and relaxed, engaging and unfairly attractive. Over time, Martin begins to find that Jon buried inside his dour, awkward coworker. He also learns to live with the fact that his crush is painfully one-sided... or is it?

if we make it through the night everyone is gonna hear us (Series) by skvadern [Ratings Vary] [42.4k]

In which Sasha survives the NotThem (with a little help from a certain Distortion) and she and Jon spend s2 working together to try and make sense of everything that's happening to them. It goes...interestingly

the garden of forking paths by bibliocratic [T] [49.7k]

Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

it's only forever by lady_mab [T] [50.9k]

“The castle at the center of the labyrinth,” Jon breathes, recalling again the words from one of the past conversations with Martin. “He’s there.”

“Turn back, Jonathan,” the Goblin King says, and Jon is surprised to hear a slight edge of desperation in the tone. “Turn back before it’s too late.”

“I can’t,” Jon answers with the same tone. “You know that I can’t.”

The Goblin King’s grin is gone completely, and he regards Jon with a degree of pity before that melts into resignation.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey [T] [53.3k]

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

A Home For What Loves You by TheWrongShop [T] [151k]

It was completely fine that Jon was following up on this very normal, non-supernatural statement at midnight on a Friday. He was going to find nothing at all, and then he was going to go home and sleep for fourteen straight hours and feel absolutely no qualms about moving case #0150409 directly into the filing cabinet marked "discredited".

Or; Jon and Martin end up investigating Carlos Vittery's basement and finding the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss together.

RATED E *MINORS DNI*

A Look And A Voice by cuttooth [E] [6.9k]

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Jon asks bluntly, and for a second Martin can’t breathe.

“It - it doesn’t matter what I - ” he begins valiantly, before Jon interrupts him.

“Because I want to have sex with you, and frankly it doesn’t matter if you think it’s for the wrong reasons. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. The only thing that matters is if you want to as well.”

*

Martin meets a guy in a bar and takes him home.

Warms The Coldest Night by cuttooth [E] [11k]

"Flame that warms the coldest night Bring to us the waxing Light, Be with us on Solstice Night." Gypsy - Bring Back The Light

There is mistletoe hanging in the doorway to the Archives when Jon gets in.

Curiosity by ShastaFirecracker [E] [11.6k]

“You know that conversation we had the other day about how one of the most important things for queer youth to learn is that it's okay to change their minds, because identity and self-discovery are always fluid?”

Behind him, Martin slipped oven mitts over his hands and pulled open the oven door. The scent of garlic and rosemary flooded the kitchen. “Yeah?” he said.

“I, um... I'd like to revisit the topic of sex.”

At the Interim (Series) by Rend_Herring [E] [41k]

A Measure Outside the Lines and The Residuum

triptych (Series) by Stacicity [E] [44.9k]

A collection of Jon/Tim/Martin fics

a steady hand, a delicate man by callmearctus [E] [52.8k]

Martin is the proprietor and manager of a very discrete and fairly exclusive brothel situated between Belgravia and Chelsea. Blackwood House excels at special requests and pleasing any client.

Except for Jon, who probably has never been pleased a day in his entire life.

Despite that, he still comes back. It eventually begs the question: how do you solve a problem like Jon Sims?

[bluejayblueskies]

For the kiss prompt thing, could you do 34 and/or 66 with Jontim, please?

kiss prompt list!

34 - Returned from the dead kiss | 66 - Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In 

i did both! set in an au where tim survives the unknowing. additionally, in this au jon and tim were together in research and season one but then broke it off in season two for canon-typical reasons

cw for mentions of injury and grief, mentions of death, suicidal ideation (mild), mentions of hospitalization, mentions of paranoia and stalking, and swearing

Ao3 link in source!

.

Jon’s been awake for two weeks and three days when Tim finally works up the nerve to see him.

 (He’s not nervous, he tells himself. It’s not nerves twisting his stomach and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and making his hands shake ever so slightly where they grasp the doorknob on Jon’s office door. It might be guilt, but he dislikes the thought and discards it immediately. Hatred? That doesn’t feel right either. He’d shed that anger a few months prior, body still aching from being crushed underneath a building’s worth of brick and mortar and holding Martin while he cried at Jon’s bedside, hiccupping into the fabric of Tim’s shirt, He’s not waking up, Tim. He's never waking up.)

 He opens the door and sees Jon sitting at his desk, hair pinned up in a haphazard topknot and a jumper that’s much too large swallowing his body whole. Jon looks up at him, his eyes widening a bit, and oh.

 It’s relief.

 Tim lets the door swing shut behind him and leans against the wall next to the doorframe, hands coming up to grip his elbows as he hugs his arms close to his chest. One arm is still mottled with angry red scars, spiraling patterns of shrapnel laced along his skin. He rubs a thumb over one of the larger scars near the crook of his elbow absently as he says, “Hey. I… I heard you’d woken up.”

 Jon just stares at him for a moment, like he’s not quite sure what he’s looking at. Just as it’s bordering on the edge of annoying, Jon finally says, “Yes, I… I have. A- a few weeks ago.”

 “Right.”

 There’s another long moment of silence between them, this one tenser than the first. Jon’s avoiding Tim’s eyes, his face pinched and unhappy. His hands are fiddling with the cuffs of his jumper nervously, and something within Tim knocks loose at the sight. “I’m not here to yell at you, okay?”

 Jon startles, his eyes finding Tim’s for a moment before darting away again. He’s never liked direct eye contact, Tim remembers, but this is something else. Tim gets the distinct feeling that it’s at least partially his fault. Maybe a bit more than partially. Then, quietly, Jon says, “Why not?”

 Great. With a weary sigh, Tim steps away from the wall and drops himself into the ratty armchair that faces Jon’s desk. “Because it’s been six months, Jon. A lot has changed.” He makes a humorless noise. “I mean, it’s all the same shit—spooky monsters and fucked-up situations and a job I can’t get rid of. But, you know.” He rubs his thumb over the scar, shrugs his shoulders. “The Circus is gone. Thought I’d be gone with it, but I’m not. And you were gone, which made things easier for a while. Less complicated, because I didn’t have to look at you and feel—”

 Tim makes a sharp, irritated noise. He doesn’t know how he felt. “But you were just… there. Dead or- or asleep or whatever, it didn’t really matter. You were there, and I was here, and we both know it was meant to be the other way around.”

 “Tim—” Jon starts, the pity in his voice palpable.

 “No,” Tim says, giving Jon a firm look. “I don’t want an apology or- or pity or whatever. That’s not the point of this.” He sits back in the chair, takes a deep breath, and says, “I don’t remember when I stopped feeling angry. I didn’t visit you at first, in the hospital, but when I did, I… I don’t know.” Tim shrugs and looks at the floor. “I guess I just decided that you wouldn’t have chosen that. To- to be half-dead and dreaming while the rest of us lived.”

 Jon’s quiet for a long moment. Then, he makes a sound that might be a laugh if it weren’t so bitter. “No,” he says, voice rough around the edges. “I didn’t. But I did choose to wake up. I made a choice, and I- I think it was the wrong one.”

 “What,” Tim says, “because you chose to live rather than to die?”

 Jon shakes his head, just once. “Because I chose to be this.” He gestures at the desk, at the room around him. “The… the Archivist.”

 Tim takes a moment to consider. Then, he says bluntly, “Fine. Let’s say you did. You chose to go full monster, give up the mantle of humanity entirely, and then—what?”

 Jon blinks at him. “What?”

 “What are you going to do now?”

 Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally saying, “I- I suppose I’ll just… work?”

 Tim can’t help letting out a short, clipped laugh. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

 Jon makes an indignant noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Nothing. I just—” Tim pauses, looks at his hands. There’s a worm scar between his middle and ring finger on his left hand that never healed quite right, that’s now a twisted knot of scar tissue. He focuses on it as he says, “You’re still you, you know? Even before, with all the shit you pulled—the stalking and the murder accusations and the questions—it was… it was still just you. And whether or not you’re still human, you’re still Jon.”

 “Oh,” Jon says, the word empty and hollow. “Is… is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

 Tim doesn’t know yet, not really. The relationship between them is still flayed open and raw, ripped apart by months of poor choices and hurtful words. But he meets Jon’s eyes, sees that familiar brown that he used to wake up to in the mornings, takes note of the small cluster of circular scars just beneath Jon’s temple, and decides that if it’s not good, it’s certainly on the way there. The thought leaves him feeling a bit weightless, and he realizes with an aching in his chest that he’s missed Jon. Not in the physical sense, because Jon’s always been here, conscious or not, and his presence has been burned into the back of Tim’s mind like a brand, an itch he can’t quite scratch. But still, there had been an empty space within him that he hadn’t been able to cover or fill, shaped like warm sunlit mornings and shared bottles of wine and kisses on foreheads and noses and lips. And it had ached, as much as Tim wished it hadn’t. That that Jon was gone and this Jon had taken his place. The resentment Tim felt at the fact was bitter and heavy and painful.

 It’s still not the same Jon, sitting in front of him now and worrying his ring between his fingers in a familiar nervous tic. But he’s not the same Tim either. Affection doesn’t come easy for him anymore and everything hurts and there are so, so many things he can’t forgive Jon for. That he doesn’t know how to. But at some point, the blanket of revenge-fueled anger had melted away and he’d just been tired.

 “I don’t know,” Tim says, because it’s true. But it’s also true when he continues, “But I want it to be good. It might take some time, and I- I can’t just forget about what’s happened between us, but…” Tim’s chest tightens, and his next words come out choked and a bit forced. “I missed you. And I’m glad you’re not dead, okay? I don’t know if you’ve convinced yourself that I wouldn’t be, but I am.” Quieter: “God knows I’ve already lost enough.”

 “Oh,” Jon says again, barely more than a whisper. Then, hesitantly: “I… thank you, Tim. I’m also glad that you… that you’re still here. For what it’s worth.”

 “You don’t have to…” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, lets out a long breath. “Never mind.”

 “I know,” Jon says, something terribly vulnerable in his voice. When Tim opens his eyes, Jon’s looking at him, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips. Tim can’t stop looking at it. “But I want to. I… I still care about you, Tim. I always have, even if I- I didn’t always show it.”

 The Tim of six months ago would probably have laughed at that. Would have said that it didn’t matter if he cared or not, or that if he really cared he wouldn’t have spent half a year tracking his every move and thinking that Tim was even remotely capable of killing him. (That bit had hit particularly hard. Tim had gone home afterward and scrubbed every reminder of Jon from his house, every picture and favorite mug and lingering jumper and that one souvenir from his trip to Spain that Jon had once rambled about for two hours. It had hurt, and when he was done, he’d felt hollowed out and empty. Enough room for the anger to begin to creep in, he supposes.)

 Instead, Tim sighs and says, “You know, that was the worst part. The fact that after everything, even when I hated you, I still couldn’t stop myself from caring.” He digs his fingernails into the soft skin of the inside of his wrist. “It hurt to care, so I pretended like I didn’t. But all the shit that happened to you—Christ, Jon, I’m not so much of an asshole to think that you deserved to be tortured and kidnapped every other week. I don’t know if anyone ever told you that you didn’t deserve it, so there it is.”

 Jon’s looking at him with wide eyes and lips slightly parted, and Tim feels something in his chest ache at the sight. “Don’t look at me like that.”

 “Like- like what?”

 “Like I’ve—” Like I’ve hung the fucking moon. “Look, that’s just basic human decency, okay?”

 “Okay,” Jon echoes quietly. He’s still looking at Tim and his lips are still slightly parted and the ache in Tim’s chest amplifies until he can barely stand it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s reminded of the first time he asked Jon, standing halfway inside the doorframe of his house after their third date, if he could kiss him. How Jon had looked startled, all wide eyes and parted lips, and after a moment had nodded wordlessly. How Jon’s hair had been soft beneath his fingers as he’d cupped Jon’s cheek and how Jon’s lips had been warm against his and how Jon had inhaled slightly at the contact, like even though Tim had asked, he was still surprised that he’d followed through.

 Tim looks at Jon, at the still-familiar shape of his lips save for a small circular scar near the left corner, and tries to convince himself, just for a moment, that he doesn’t want to kiss him.

 He’s never been very good at self-control.

 So he stands, braces one hand on Jon’s desk, and reaches forward with the other, stopping just shy of Jon’s face. When Jon doesn’t move away, he rests his palm lightly against Jon’s cheek, his thumb coming to rest just underneath Jon’s eye. “This doesn’t fix things,” Tim says quietly. “But I’d still like to kiss you. If you’re okay with that.”

 Jon hesitates. Then, barely more than a whisper, he says, “Okay.”

 “Okay.” Tim pauses a moment more before tilting Jon’s head slightly up, leaning forward, and kissing him.

 It’s still as easy as breathing.

[leighistired]

Out Loud

A Martin character study AO3 Link

“G’night mum, love you.”

“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”

At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.

“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”

“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.

“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”

“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.

“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”

He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.

Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.

“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.

“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.

“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”

“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.

Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.

“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”

“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.

When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.

Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.

He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.

“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.

“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.

“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”

“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.

“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”

Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”

Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.

Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.

Then he gets transferred to the Archives.

Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.

Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.

When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.

Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.

As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.

“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”

“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.

“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”

“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”

Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.

He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.

It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.

“Jon?” He calls gently.

“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”

“And you should be home.”

“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”

“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”

“What?”

“Er...forget I-”

“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”

“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”

“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”

Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.

The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.

After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.

“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”

Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.

“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”

“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.

“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”

“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”

“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”

He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.

After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.

Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?

With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.

When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.

“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”

It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.

“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”

“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”

Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.

“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”

“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.

Damn it.

Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.

He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.

“Stay safe,” Jon says.

“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.

Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.

Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.

Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.

Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.

Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.

After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.

He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”

He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.

When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.

The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.

“I really loved you, you know?”

And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.

Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.

He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.

“Jon,” he whispers.

“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.

“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.

When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.

They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.

“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’

“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.

“But I do.”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah.”

Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.

[jaysworlds]

T4TMA Day Seven - Clothes

“Oh my god. Jon, come look at this.”

“What is it?” Jon puts his laptop back on the table and gets up, poking his head out of the lounge door and into Georgie’s bedroom.

“You know that package I got this morning,” she says, waving an empty bag at him, “and how I couldn’t figure out what I had ordered?”

Jon nods. She had been very loud about the fact that she had no idea who it was from or where it had come from, and she had accused them several times of buying something and accidentally putting her name on the package.

“I recall,” they say, instead of reminding her.

“Well,” she says, discarding the packet and picking up a pile of discarded fabric. “It’s apparently a gift. From a relative who I honestly thought was dead.”

Jon snorts. “Good to know you keep tabs on your family.”

“I do, but only to keep track of when they die.”

“Morbid.”

“If you’re not dating me for my morbid sense of humour then why are you even here?”

“You make a good point. What did your unfortunately living relative send you?”

Georgie wrinkles her nose, clearly unimpressed. “A suit. For his-” she scrabbles around for a piece of paper and picks it up off her bed “-third wedding to a-” she squints at the paper “-Keightlyn. That’s K-E-I-G-H-T-L-Y-N. Keightlyn.”

“What an unfortunate name.”

“Indeed. I didn’t even realise this man was alive! Why is he sending me clothes and inviting me to his wedding?”

“Maybe he’s just running out of relatives willing to go to his weddings.”

Georgie huffs, throwing the letter and the suit back onto the bed. “It’s not even a nice suit. Or a nice letter.”

Jon can’t help but laugh, and she gives him an unimpressed look. “Can I read it?”

“Go ahead. It’s so … flowery.”

He pushes past her and sits down on the bed, picking up the letter. “My dearest Jonathan- oh dear.”

“Yeah. I told you.”

“My dearest. Who says that?”

“This man, apparently. His name is Richard, I think.”

Jon looks down at the bottom of the letter. “Reuben.”

“Whatever. He says ‘nephew’ somewhere, too, but I’m pretty sure he’s not my uncle.”

“Great uncle?”

“I don’t think those exist.”

Jon exhales slowly. They know, consciously, that of course she knows great uncles exist. That doesn’t stop them from wanting to get into an argument with her over it.

“Alright,” they say, finally. “Not even going there.”

They skim the rest of the letter. It’s not very interesting, all my darling Keightlyn and can’t wait to be married and will be so pleased to see you.

“Wow,” they say, finally. “Can I see the suit?”

“Go for it,” Georgie tells them, and chucks it at them.

She’s wrong, actually. It’s a very nice suit, apart from the fact that it’s an unfortunate shade of green. Still, it’s still the kind of thing Jon would consider wearing, if he had any events that required one. He doesn’t actually have a suit, because they’re expensive and his grandmother had told him absolutely not, suits are not for young ladies when he’d asked her to get her one.

“Oh, I know that look,” Georgie says, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You like it, don’t you.”

“It’s not horrible,” he says, in an attempt to defend his taste. He has good taste, actually, apart from the fact things like this occasionally catch his eye.

“It is,” she insists, “but you can have it. On one condition.”

“Okay,” Jon says.

“You have to come to this wedding with me.”

They blanch a little, at that. They do want it, but they don’t want to go to the wedding of one of her ancient relatives. She doesn’t seem to be scared of anything, but they’re not sure the two of them would get the best reaction.

“Come on,” she says, when she notices them hesitating. “It’ll be fun, you know? A date.”

“A date,” they say, dubious. “To your maybe great uncle’s third wedding.”

“Exactly,” Georgie says. “Come on, I know you like causing a little chaos sometimes.”

Jon groans. She’s right, of course, she knows him far too well. “Alright,” he says. “But I get to keep the suit.”

“You get to keep the suit,” she promises, and kisses him on the cheek. “Try it on. I bet it will look good on you.”

“Flatterer,” he mutters, standing up with the suit still in his arms. “Fine. What do you plan on wearing?”

“Probably the shortest, tightest dress I can find,” she says flippantly, and that’s just like her. “Go. Shoo.”

He goes, taking the suit into his room and locking the door. He’s a little bit nervous, to be honest, that it will look terrible and that Georgie will laugh at him, but he tries it on anyway.

He’s just trying to figure out how to do up the buttons on the shirt sleeves when she knocks.

“Jon?” she calls. “Are you done? I wanna see.”

“You can come in,” Jon tells her, unlocking the door, and she waltzes into their room, looking them up and down.

“Not bad,” she says, taking the buttons out of their hands and doing them up herself. “Put the jacket on.”

They do. It’s not a perfect fit, since it’s been tailored to fit what someone who hasn’t seen Georgie in years assumes she’d look like, not them at all, but it still feels good.

“You look good,” Georgie says, leaning in to kiss their cheek. “Don’t let any of our friends see you in a suit, though. Your reputation will never recover.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the support, girlfriend mine. You’re so thoughtful and loving.”

“I know,” she says. “I am. You’re lucky to have me.”

He rolls his eyes again, but she’s right. “If lucky is what you want to call it.”

“Rude,” she says, smacking his arm lightly. “Alright, take it off and hang it up so you don’t crease it. I’m going to email Rudolf.”

“Reuben,” Jon says automatically.

“Whatever.” She swans out of their room, closing the door behind her.

They change out of the suit and do as she said, putting it away in their wardrobe for the wedding that they’re sure is going to be a disaster. At least it might be fun, they suppose. Georgie wouldn’t let it be boring.

They laugh to themself, imagining her let loose on a wedding. All they’re going to have to do is sit back and watch. Maybe eat some cake.

“Jon,” Georgie calls, from the direction of the kitchen, and Jon closes his cupboard door, going to find what she wants. Dinner, probably.

He’s got a suit now. That’s nice.

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Welcome Home (Part One)

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: After not speaking to her brothers for over a year, Peyton Rhodes’ life is turned upside down when her boyfriend of four years cheats on her. She uproots her life with WWE and returns home to Atlanta. She finds herself among great friends and she is finding herself again after being lost for so long.

WORD COUNT: 2,624 (well shit). 

Pairings: Cody Rhodes x OFC (Sister), Brandi Rhodes x OFC (sister), Dustin Rhodes x OFC (Sister), past Seth Rollins x OFC, future Kenny Omega x OFC (maybe?), MJFx OFC( maybe?) Could end up being Matt Jackson x OFC (who knows) let the writing gods surprise us.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentioned cheating, possible future smut (Warnings are subject to change as I continue writing and will be updated as needed).

A/N: This has been a WIP for over a year now. This will be multiple parts. It will be a slow burn. (MAYBE) I’m a sucker for the friends to lovers trope. Please do not think that this reflects my feels toward a certain wrestler (Seth). This story is strictly fiction. I do not own any of the characters except for my OFC(s). Please, please, please, give me feedback. I’m slowly working myself back into the fanfic world. <3

“Cody was right.” I cried as soon as my brother’s wife answered the phone. I hadn’t spoken to my brothers since they left WWE. Cody was upset that I wouldn’t leave with him. Brandi was my way of communication with them. She’d call at least twice a week. This week was different. 

“I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win over Finn and they were,” I sniffled, hurt coming over me again. “It was Mandy. I thought she was my friend.” I explained to my sister in law.

“Pey, I am so sorry. Please come home. You know AEW has a spot for you whenever you want it.” Brandi offered. It was the same thing she said to me every week, but now I’m ready. 

“I just don’t know why.” I cried. “I was the perfect girlfriend. I basically put my career on hold for him. I thought he was, I thought he was it for me.” Brandi had said that they were going to be home for Cody’s birthday in a few weeks and invited me to come to the party. 

“I’ll talk to Hunter.” I choked out. 

Luckily, my contract was almost up and as soon as Vince heard I didn’t want to re-sign, he settled for my release. We didn’t have the best relationship, but Hunter advocated for me stating that it was best for the company as well as myself. He knew the situation and didn’t blame me for wanting to go.

I knew I had to go back one day. I just never thought it would be this soon. I parked my car in the drive. I could hear Pharaoh announcing my arrival before I could make it to the door. I made my way up the sidewalk to the porch. I took a deep breath and knocked. 

Brandi opened the door immediately. “Well I'll be damned.” She said, “I can’t believe you came!” I smiled, embracing my brother’s wife. 

“Like I would miss my big brother’s 35th birthday.” I lied and she knew it. If Seth hadn’t cheated on me, I wouldn’t be here. 

Brandi led me inside where there were some guests who had gathered in the foyer. Brandi introduced me quickly, leading me through to Cody. “Hey, babe. Your surprise is here.” Cody, who was standing by the fireplace, talking to Dustin, turned and saw me. 

Awkwardly, I raised a hand to wave. “Hi.” I whispered. Cody sat down his drink and walked over to me. I expected him to cuss and yell, but instead, he threw his arms around me, hugging me tightly. 

“Peyton, I'm so happy you’re here.” He whispered. Dustin came up behind him. 

“Long time, no see sis. You know, they invented this thing called a phone. You should look into it. Call your big brothers sometime.” Dustin fussed before hugging me too. 

“It is really good to see you guys.” I tried to hold back the tears, but some escaped anyway. “How have you been? AEW has really taken off huh?” I said making small talk.

Cody nodded, “Yeah, I have the best business partners. I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Looking at my brother, he was truly happy. WWE had given him a few more stress lines, but seeing him now, you couldn’t tell. 

He grabbed my hand, pulling me to follow him. He led me to Matt and Nick Jackson, standing with Kenny Omega and Adam Page. “Guys! Guys! Look who decided to show her face.” Cody beamed, smiling big. The four guys waved. 

“Finally! We get to meet the prodigal sister.” Kenny Omega spoke first. 

“Peyton, these are the guys.” Cody pointed to each of them. “Matt. Nick. Kenny. Adam.” 

“Nice to meet y’all finally. I watch your show every week. You are all very talented.” They all mumbled a “thank you” in tandem. 

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. We all sat and talked. Getting to know The Elite was amazing. It was almost as if I hadn’t been AWOL for a year and a half.  When the party was over, I was helping Brandi clean up. 

“Pey, you don’t have to help. You’re a guest.” She said, grabbing the glasses from my hands. I shook my head.

“I’m family. And family helps.” I smiled, taking the glasses back and continued to the kitchen. Cody walked in behind me with plates. 

“Hey,” he started, “Thank you for coming.” He finished, placing the plates in the dishwasher. I added my glasses. 

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, turning to face him. Cody looked at me, confused. “I should have left with you. You were right about that place. My career, my relationship, everything, became a shitshow after you left.” tears began to fall. 

“Pey, it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here now.” Cody wiped the tears away. 

“Code. I lost my title. Seth cheated on me, and I barely got any TV time.” Cody scoffed. He never liked Seth.

“He cheated on you?” Cody growled, and paced around the room. 

I nodded, “I caught him. I went to congratulate him after his win one night and they were,” I sniffled, explaining to Cody. “I don’t know why.” I cried. “And then I lost my title, and then stopped getting TV time, unless I was on Seth’s arm.” I darted my eyes to the ground. “We still had to work together. After everything, I had to pretend like we were the perfect couple, until my last appearance.” Cody pulled me into a tight hug. 

“I pissed a lot of people off with the way I left. I’m so sorry that affected you.” he whispered into my hair, like it was his fault. 

“I don’t blame you, Code. I was granted my release.” I mumbled into his chest. He pulled back. 

“What?” His eyes were wide. 

“I asked for my release and Hunter pushed it through. I’ll be a free agent in 90 days” I explained. Cody smiled like a Cheshire cat.  

“Babe! Dustin! Get in here!” Cody yelled, startling me. The both of them came running, looking for an emergency, but they only saw Cody pouring champagne for a toast. Confused looks covered their faces. 

Cody gave everyone a flute and started a toast. “To our baby sister, the newest AEW superstar.” Brandi squealed and hugged me tight. The guys joined in. 

I was finally home. 

It was hard, walking away from my life in WWE; However, finding my place within the Elite was easy. Especially with Kenny Omega. He quickly became one of my closest friends. The next 3 months were the best of my life. The break from wrestling gave my body and my heart time to heal. Everyone did their best to hide that I was coming to AEW, even leaving fake trails that I was going back to NJPW.

After working out the details of my contract, I was officially signed with AEW. Cody wanted me to make a surprise entrance, interrupt one of his segments. Creative loved the idea of brother and sister reuniting, but they wanted to make it interesting. When my debut date came, I couldn’t have been any more nervous.

Sitting in catering, I was alone, lost in thought, picking at my food. It had been a long journey here, but they made it. AEW came to life and it was thriving. Double or nothing had passed, and that meant tonight was Dynamite.

“Guess who?” Someone had snuck up on me, covering my eyes. I smiled because I knew exactly who it was.

“Hmm, Prince Charming?” I guessed quickly. Kenny placed a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Close, but better.” He said uncovering my eyes. “Hey, princess. Just thought I’d come save you from your thoughts. What’s going on in that head of yours right now?” he asked, knowing I’ll tell him, taking the seat next to me. 

I sighed, rubbing my face. “I was thinking about my journey, how I got here.” Kenny nodded, but didn’t say anything. “I was thinking about how I get to see Jon again, since leaving WWE, and I was thinking about Seth.” I finally spit it out. Seth, his name leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

“I knew something was bothering you. Talk to me, doll.”

“I was scrolling through Insta earlier. He’s engaged. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. Not because I still have feelings for him, but because she is, was, my friend, and I don’t want him to do to her what he did to me.” I explained to him.

“That’s understandable, Pey, but people gotta make their own mistakes. Mandy knows what he did to you and she still said yes, so that’s on her.” Kenny said, ever the voice of reason.

I nodded in agreement with him, knowing he was right. I needed to focus on my new path, my new future.

“Peyton!” Cody called from a distance, Brandi following him. It was time.

Cody stood, center ring, proudly. He had won the TNT title at Double or Nothing. He went on about how he was issuing an open challenge every Wednesday.

I stood nervously behind the curtain, waiting for my cue. I was about to make my debut. My life has been a little crazy since I left WWE behind, but definitely for the better. 

As an avid Fall Out Boy fan, I had struck a deal to have my favorite song as my entrance music. I had been using it for most of my career. The music hit, the crowd went crazy. “Holy Hell, that music can only mean one person. The sister of the American Nightmare. That’s Peyton Rhodes!” JR yelled into his mic as I strolled down the ramp, ignoring the crowd. “Peyton” chants filled the arena as I made my way to the squared circle. 

“Peyton Rhodes has joined  AEW and the crowd couldn’t be happier,” Excalibur added. I walked around the ring to the time keeper, grabbing a mic from Justin, and strolled on toward the ring. 

The music cut, and Cody was first to speak. "Oh yeah. I guess we didn't announce this but Peyton Rhodes is AEW!" The crowd screamed at Cody's news, chanting "AEW". 

I soaked in the cheers because I knew it was all about to change. I had been a face for most of my pro-wrestling career, and now I finally get to pursue the heel turn my fans had been begging for. I took in a deep breath and adjusted my leather jacket. 

“Oh, Atlanta, shut the hell up!” I groaned into the mic. I revelled in the audible gasp that could be heard. “That’s right. No more sweet ‘Georgia peach’ Peyton Rhodes. I came to AEW to raise hell, and that’s what I’m going to do.” I wandered around the ring, stopping in front of a camera. “I’m sick and tired of wanting your approval. I’m here to get what I want. And I want it all.” I punctuated as I looked dead into the camera.

“Hear that big brother,” I turned and faced Cody, “Hell just arrived in AEW I hope you’re ready.” I gestured to the crowd, “I hope you’re all ready, because if you thought Cody was a nightmare, wait til you see me, the Dream Killer.” I dropped the mic, and rolled out of the ring. The crowd loved it. “Dream Killer” chants echoed in my ears all the way backstage. 

I was greeted by Dustin, Brandi, and Kenny. “That was perfect, Pey, they loved it.” Kenny said as soon as I was in sight. I grinned, running up to him, jumping into his arms for a hug. 

“The crowd loved you. They’ve been hoping for this heel turn since your WWE debut.” Cody said, smiling from ear to ear as he returned to the back after finishing his promo.

“For real, Pey! You pull off the ‘heel’ thing. I can’t wait to work on your wardrobe!” Brandi squealed, embracing me in a dancing hug. “Just think about the shoes, Pey, the shoes.” Brandi was way more excited about the outfits than the actual turn. She had helped me pick the one I was wearing. Black jean shorts, a front-zip black and white crop top, leather jacket, and black boots. 

“I can’t wait to see where this takes me.” I said before we were joined by the rest of The Elite.  

Nick was the first to speak. “Not bad, Rhodes. You might be a better heel than your brother here.” He elbowed Cody in the ribs.

Matt nodded in agreement, “For real Peyton, the crowd was so hyped for that turn.” He said with a soft smile, bringing me in for a quick hug. 

I turned to face everyone. “Thanks guys. All of you. You gave me this chance.” I thanked them, “I promise I won’t let you down.” 

“You’re a great addition to the AEW family.” Adam complimented, “Come on Ken, we got a match to get ready for.” he said before walking away. Kenny gave me one last hug before following him.

Cody and Brandi also parted as she had a segment coming up, leaving me with the Young Bucks. “Come on, Pey, lets celebrate!” We had walked back to catering where some more of the AEW stars were waiting. In the back, I spotted the one person I couldn’t wait to see again. I told The Bucks I’d catch up with them. 

“Jon!” I screamed, almost running to him. When he saw me rushing toward him, he opened his arms, inviting me in for a hug. Hugging him was a blast from the past. 

“Peyton fucking Rhodes. I heard rumors you were coming. Sweetheart, you knocked them dead.” He spoke into my hair. I gave him one more tight squeeze before pulling away. “Well, you look great.” He said, gesturing to my outfit. 

“I’m heel now. Finally.” I boasted. I’ve been waiting for this for the longest time and no one was taking it away from me. Jon and I talked, catching up. I asked about Renee and he lit up. He was happy and that’s all I wanted for him. He was finally able to be the fighting champion everyone knew he could be. 

“What about Seth? What happened? The last time I spoke to him, he said you guys were happy and he had bought a ring.” Jon asked, and it knocked the breath out of me. I knew he would ask, but I wasn’t expecting him to mention a ring. 

“He cheated on me. With Mandy. They’re engaged now.” I said without choking up, which was a good sign. I could see the disappointment well up in Jon’s eyes. 

“You were always too good for him.” I knew he and Seth were still good friends, but I appreciated the words nonetheless. Jon gave me one last hug before he got called away for his match, leaving me alone in catering again. 

I found a table close to a TV so I could watch the end of Kenny and Adam’s match. They were well on their way to becoming tag team champions. I started thinking about what Jon had said about Seth, about him buying a ring. I couldn’t believe it. He was going to ask me to marry him and I would have said yes, had I not found him with Mandy. I was pulled from my thoughts by my phone vibrating. It was Seth. 

I saw your debut. 

You look good. 

You’re gonna be a great heel.

I miss you. 

I wish you would talk to me and let me explain. 

I read and reread the messages a hundred times before replying. 

Okay, Seth. When and where?

[suttttton]

An Invitation

How do you get Jonathan Sims to go on a date with you? Easy. Step one: Trick him by giving him a fake statement filled with puzzles that lead him to the date location of your choice. Step two: Profit?

---

“Jon,” Sasha says, leaning against his desk.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up from his work.

“D’you want to get lunch with me today?” she asks. It’s just a casual question. They’ve gotten lunch together before, and she knows that Jon won’t interpret her question in a romantic way, but her stomach still thrums with nervousness. It’s… different, now that she’s decided to let herself have a crush on him. Now that she’s decided that, eventually, she’ll ask him on a real date.

He doesn’t even look at her, just shakes his head. “Can’t, I’m a bit swamped this week. I’ve got a lot of—things…” he trails off, drawn back into his work. The exciting world of follow-up research. She stands there for another minute, just watching him, knowing that he has forgotten her entirely. It’s one of those things that should be annoying, but is really just… deeply endearing. Ugh.

She’s going to ask him on that date soon.

***

When she asks Jon out, she tries to be obvious about it. Jon has a hard time reading social signals at the best of times, and she wants to make things easy for him. She’s not the most comfortable with grand gestures, but she’s got a bit theater kid in her yet, and she’s sure she can make it work.

She finds Jon in the break room, eating a bowl of microwavable soup and staring blankly at nothing. Very adorable. She knocks twice on the table, getting his attention, and he blinks once and smiles at her.

“Jon, there’s something I want to ask you,” she says. She can feel heat rising in her face. God, this is about to be embarrassing. She really, really hopes he doesn’t turn her down. (Why would he turn you down, James? You’re a catch.)

She gets on one knee, takes his hand. “Jonathan Sims,” she says dramatically. “Would you do me the honor of coming to dinner with me on Friday?”

He looks at her, and his eyebrows furrow. “Sorry Sasha,” he says, “but I can’t. I requested some books, and they’re supposed to arrive Friday. I was planning to get started on them Friday evening.”

She sighs. She’d take it as a graceful rejection, if she hadn’t seen Jon reject people before. He got nervous and stuttery and hyper-apologetic. He doesn’t look at all uncomfortable now, just confused as to why she’s on the floor.

He doesn’t know that she’s trying to ask him on a date.

Later, replaying the scene in her mind, she realizes what the problem was. They were at work. Even with her making it as dramatic as possible, the environment was too casual. She asked him to do platonic activities with her all the time while they were at work—why would he assume differently?

She needs to ask him when they aren’t at the Institute, somewhere where she can make a whole presentation of it. She’ll buy him flowers, sweep him off his feet.

Except.

He keeps turning down her offers to spend time together. When he isn’t busy with follow-up, he’s busy researching the Leitner books. It’s… stupidly endearing. And unhealthy. Jon doesn’t look unwell, really, but he does look… stressed, hunched over his desk all day. Jon needs a break from work, not just so she can ask him on a date, but also so he doesn’t drive himself into a nervous breakdown.

Sasha hatches a plan.

***

It doesn’t take long to put together. Just an evening, researching cryptic puzzles, scouting out locations that aren’t too far from the Institute, writing a nonsensical statement in the ‘I saw a ghost in a graveyard and it was spooky’ vein.

The only problem is how to get the fake statement into Jon’s caseload without him noticing. She can’t just drop it on his desk, not with him there all day long. She could get Lydia involved, but she isn’t sure the Head of Research would approve of her plan, and even if she did, Lydia is a bad liar. Jon would know something was up.

In the end, Jon solves the problem for her. He leans back in his chair, hisses over to her, “Sasha! Swap with me?”

“Spiders?” she asks, and he winces, nods. She holds out her hand, and flicks through the offending file. It has all the hallmarks of a false statement, but—

“I felt thousands of legs swarming over me, filling up my mouth, my nose—”

She snaps the folder shut, wrinkling her nose. “No problem,” she says. She hands Jon the fake statement. “You can take this one, I haven’t gotten started on it yet.”

“Thanks,” he says, smiling. Her stomach flips, and she watches for a few moments longer as he gets to work.

***

It would be suspicious for her to be staring at Jon the entire time he’s working on the statement, so instead she just glances over every once in a while, making sure he doesn’t immediately drop the statement in the ‘discredited’ pile.

He doesn’t. Instead, his frown deepens as he’s drawn in, trying to figure out the puzzle she’s left for him. The statement is clearly fake, but a few of the words are—wrong. Nonsensical. Gibberish.

She sees Jon go over and over the text, marking every strange word. Then he picks up his phone, dials the number listed on the statement. It’s a disconnected number, and Jon’s frown deepens.

He thinks for a few seconds, tapping his fingers on his desk. Then he pulls out a notepad, begins writing on it, consulting the statement to transcribe the strange words exactly.

At that point, Sasha knows she has him. Jon loves puzzles, and now that he knows there’s a puzzle to solve in the statement, he’s not going to stop until he figures it out.

It’s a simple Caesar cipher, with the phone number as its key. It yields the message:

Here are the coordinates:

CH.HCGDHCGFYERE, -HB.KGICCECIF0WI

In order to crack the coordinates, Jon simply has to replace each letter with its numerical position in the alphabet. Jon is smart, he’ll figure it out. The coordinates belong to a cryptid-themed restaurant in America called the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille.

Once, the Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grill website landing page contained several blurry photos of “Moth Man,” along with a somehow even blurrier photo of a restaurant menu. Now, it’s a nightmarish jumble of the strangest stock photos Sasha could find, along with a single hyperlink that just says, “Click me!”

(Sasha included this step because she finds it deeply entertaining to watch Jon click on the shadiest links possible. It’s revenge for all the viruses she’s had to clean off his computer.)

The link leads to a much more tasteful webpage. It’s has a single picture of a rose on it, and below that it just says, “An Invitation”. Then it gives the address of a very cute little cafe just a short walk from the Institute. Beneath that, “Tonight. 7:00pm.”

It takes about an hour for Jon to figure out the Caesar cipher, and after that he works through the puzzle quickly. It’s a delight, watching his face when he sees “Moth Man Urban Legends Bar and Grille,” and even better when he sees the monstrosity she’s made of their website.

He clicks the link without even a second of hesitation, which almost makes Sasha laugh out loud. And then he’s just staring at the invitation. He opens a new tab, opens Google Maps, puts in the address. She sees the back-in-forth in his head—‘Tonight’ has probably long since passed, and he isn’t likely to find anything if he shows up at the cafe at 7:00pm tonight.

But Jon is stubborn, and if he doesn’t go ‘Tonight,’ it’ll eat at him. She’s trapped him. He’ll show up. She’s certain of it.

***

She debates for a long time if she should wear a dress, or a button-up shirt and tie. She decides on the tie. It has ferns on it, and she needs the calming vibes.

It’s starting to sink in, what she’s done.

Why didn’t she just say, “Jon, I am asking you on a date”? That would have been so much easier! Christ, she’s tricked her crush into going on a date with her. What kind of creep does that?

She’s terrified Jon will be angry with her. Or worse, hurt. This whole thing is technically a prank. What if Jon thinks she’s just… making fun of him?

She stops by a flower shop on her way there, and the shop assistant asks what she needs, and she’s so nervous by then that she actually says, “I tricked my friend into going on a date with me, and I need flowers that will prevent him from hating me forever.”

“Right,” the man says, uncertainly. “Well—” And then he makes Sasha a very, very nice arrangement because, unlike Sasha, he isn’t a complete mess.

Sasha arrives at the cafe thirty minutes early, because she knows Jon. She knows he’ll want to stake out the place ahead of time. She knows she has to arrive ridiculously early to beat him there.

But apparently, she’s underestimated him because he’s already there.

He’s seated at a table in the corner, where he can see the entire dining room. He’s still wearing his clothes from work, and there’s a pastry in front of him.

He’s watching the door, of course he is, so he sees her come in.

“Sasha!” he calls, waving wildly at her. It makes something pang in her chest, that Jon’s instinct upon seeing her in a public place is to excitedly greet her. She certainly isn’t that kind of person.

She smiles, walks over to him. Her fingers are curled tightly around the flowers, crinkling the paper just slightly.

“Do you have a date tonight?” he asks, looking her over, his eyes still flicking back and forth between her and the door.

“I hope so,” she says.

He frowns. “Are they late? Or—”

She hands him the flowers. “These are for you.”

He looks at them, bewildered, then back at Sasha. “What—”

“The invitation was from me,” Sasha says, sitting down across from him. “I faked the statement, and I made the puzzles.”

He stares at her for moment, then at the flowers, then back at her. She waits for him to yell at her, or run off, or—she doesn’t know.

Then he starts laughing. It’s—wonderful, when he laughs. He always tries to hide his face, and this time he decides to use the flowers for that purpose, stifling his giggles against the petals. “Sasha, I—I thought it was going to be the, the Mob, or something.”

Sasha can’t help but start laughing too. “You thought the Mob sent secret messages to each other using a Caesar cipher?”

“I don’t know!” Jon says. “This is—” He lets out a long breath. “Well, I did enjoy the—game, I suppose.”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“Wait,” Jon says. “So I’m your date?”

“If you want to be,” Sasha says.

Jon smiles. “I—” He laughs again. “Yes. Of course I do.”

[rosy-cheekx]

Hypothetically

 @aspecarchivesweek Day One: Wish

I wish to make you happy.

Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker

This was it. Jon fiddles with the pale green collar of his shirt; eyes focused resolutely on the version of himself in the mirror that hung on the wardrobe in his student flat. Tonight’s the night I’m going to ask Georgie to…

He shakes his head to himself, wincing at the end of that sentence. He knows what he’s going to do tonight, what he wants to do tonight, what difference does vocalizing it make, even if it’s just to himself?

Glancing down at his watch, Jon chews his lip. He was meeting Georgie at the bar in thirty minutes. The bar was ten minutes away…He should probably leave now, right? In case he needed to find them seats or use the loo or if the walk ended up taking longer than the dozens of times he’s been there before? He doesn’t want to be late, that would just make everything worse-

Huh. He’s pacing. Jon forces himself to stop and stands in the middle of his bedroom, wrapping his hands around his sides, thumbs digging into his back, feeling his diaphragm push his ribs out and in as he breathes, focusing on the solid movement of his body. Why am I so nervous? His therapist had talked to him, years back, about identifying sources of his anxiety. He hates that it works, hates that it means confronting his own brain and acknowledging his faults.

Is it the bar? No. This bar, The Addison, is one of the few pubs Jon actually enjoys. It’s always got a bit of a draft so even in the busiest nights it never feels like the heat of the room is inescapable. Jon’s not the biggest fan of beer, per se, but he can knock back a pint with the best of them, so long as he has something in his stomach first, and the pretzels and beer cheese The Addison makes are his favorite. The thought of them make his stomach growl.

Is it Georgie? No. He has a lot of strong feelings for Georgie, feels comfortable being himself around her. He drops his stuffy academic persona and can be his regular, less-stuffy-but-still-academic self, the one who speaks to her flatmate’s cat in a higher-pitched voice but still with proper Queen’s English, because “they deserve to be treated with respect, don’t you Madame?” She cares about him, too, he knows that, and he’s enjoyed their months as friends and the past few weeks they’ve been a couple.

As a couple…He feels a twinge of anxiety in his chest that makes him flap his hands instinctively, a quick stim to ward off the impending doom building in his belly. Ah. Found it. He and Georgie have only gone on a few dates: a coffeeshop on a Saturday morning, and a movie night in Georgie’s flat, an evening which had been planned to be a movie marathon of Georgie’s favorite bad horror movies, the B and C rated films that were truly just a vehicle for half-naked women sprinting down alleyways and gratuitous fake blood effects. Any excuse for them to laugh over popcorn and predict the plot points, except Jon had fallen asleep partway through the second movie and had woken up the next morning on Georgie’s couch, a worn fleece blanket over his slumped form. But this? This was a proper night-time date, involving alcohol and a walk home and, Jon was sure, a “mind if I come in?” and it would be different because it wasn’t a friend he was talking to, it was his girlfriend and there were expectations and he was a virgin and didn’t want to disappoint her because he knows Georgie is experienced and she deserves to have a good time and it’s his responsibility as a boyfriend to do that, even if he’s terrified because he hasn’t before—

Woah. Jon takes a deep breath. That was a lot. He did a full Sims, as Georgie would say, letting things snowball in his head until he explodes. He closes his eyes, wringing his hands again, just a gentle flutter at his sides. It’ll be fine. She’ll understand. She has up to now. Georgie has understood his weird studying habits, his deep aversion to spiders, his need to be early everywhere, his sudden shutdowns and stimming habits and how he loves to be held and touched. She can certainly handle him being a nervous virgin.

Jon slips a condom in his wallet and then, hesitating, tears off two more and throws them in. In case he messes up the first time. Checking his watch, he sees its quarter to eight. If he leaves now he’ll only be five minutes early. Perfect.

--

The Addison is a healthy dose of busy on a Thursday night in late autumn, the hum of conversation and music floating over Jon is just the right amount of chaos for him to reach equilibrium, feeling enthused by his nervous energy. He’s sitting at the bartop, spinning the cap to his beer bottle, watching it whirl, whirl, whirl, clattering on the stained wood and spinning all the while. It’s entrancing.

Georgie is speaking to him now. She smiles warmly at him and feels his stomach flip. God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles. Her hair’s in braids this month, pink and orange weaved tightly together, contrasting with the tight black turtleneck dress she wears. He catches himself staring at her profile, the planes of her face animated as she tells him a story about her professor and his alleged vow to fail her this semester. His face is warm. See, he soothes himself, you are attracted to her. You’re just nervous.

“Jon. Jon?” Georgie’s eyebrow is quirked up and she’s smirking at him, like she’s caught him in a lie. “Everything alright? You’re staring.” Jon feels another rush of blood to his cheeks, prickling at how exposed he feels to have been caught up in his thoughts about her.

“Oh-uh, yeah,” he nods, hesitating before reforming his own features into a smile. “I-I was just thinking. Well. How nice you look tonight.” Georgie isn’t immune to compliments, he knows this for certain, and its reaffirmed as she ducks her own head briefly, smile shifting from teasing to soft.

“O-Oh. Thank you, Jon.” She sips her drink, preferring something a little harder than Jon’s beer, usually a vodka cranberry she can nurse throughout a night or throw back when she needs a little something more in her bloodstream, fogging her mind. “You look really nice too, you know. Your green shirt is my favorite.” She gestures to the button up and he nods absently, glancing down at it. When he looks up, her face is close to his, hand weaving into the curls by his ear. He sighs and leans into the touch, feeling a shiver run through him when they kiss. He tastes the cranberry on her lips, vodka on her tongue, her liquid courage enthusing him as well as her (not that she needs any excuse to be bold, really), and makes a choice.

When they pull away for air, he grins wildly at her, the face he makes when he knows he’s about to a very Not-Sims thing. When the bartender makes his rounds again, a pale man in a black button-down, Jon orders his own ruby-red drink. Georgie’s eyebrows meet her hairline as he does so, folding her hands together. “Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” The chuckle behind her voice balances the sternness of her words. He just grins at her and takes a sip of his newly-acquired vodka and cranberry juice, the dry flavors curling on his tongue and making his head feel light and warm after even half the glass.  

-

Jon is drunk. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. He knows he’s a lightweight and even the divine soft pretzels he’s been munching on since his arrival can only handle so much. He’s finished his second hard drink on top of the beer and is feeling properly light and airy. Like a cake, he giggles to himself. He’s having fun, chatting with Georgie about life and cats and uni and their plans for the future. Jon’s entertaining a couple of options, a few research jobs in London, and Georgie is poking his side, making him laugh as she teases him about his studying skills being useful for something more than exams.

“At least I have studying skills!” He says, pushing her off his side, linking their fingers together to inhibit her from poking him again. “You can’t ride my coattails forever, you know.”

“I won’t have to! It came in today.”

“What did?” His thoughts are clouded, edges of anxiety smoothed over into something more ignorable.

“My microphone! So I can start my podcast about spooky shit, remember?” Georgie squeezes his hand and finishes her own drink, far along as Jon in liquid consumed but not nearly as affected as he is. “I’m going to uncover the world’s mysteries and teach my faithful audience about the supernatural. I’ve got the title nailed down, too.” With her free hand she paints a banner in the air. “What the Ghost. ‘Cause it’s like ‘what the fuck’ and I can talk about all sorts of weird shit.” Georgie swears a lot, and more when she’s tipsy.

“Can I see it?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. “The-the microphone, can I see it?”

Her eyes widen and she nods, “Oh, yeah of course! I haven’t been able to test it out yet, so maybe you can help me.”

Jon insists on paying. So does Georgie. They resign to splitting it, each vowing to pay next time and knowing they will never outsmart each other.

-

Jon doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he’s walking the five minutes to Georgie’s flat. Tucked into her side, the air is cool around his face, the wind an icy hand cupping his cheek. Everything feels smeary, liquid, warm. Hands in the pocket of the peacoat he knows he bought for the aesthetic and not to keep him warm, he fingers his wallet, feels the circular outline inside, and feels…nothing. Good. He can do this.

He’s always loved Georgie’s flat. It is warm, all orange and yellow lamplight, houseplants, and a cosy cluttered look. Her roommate exists only in residuals, the sneakers she leaves by the door and the dishes she does at odd hours more proof she exists than anything like conversation. Jon respects that. Georgie’s room is a lot like the rest of the flat, which means it’s a lot like Georgie herself. Warm, dark, soft, and scattered, with hidden elements of cat hair no matter how many times she cleans. Jon throws his coat over his desk chair and collapses onto her bed, reveling in how her pillows feel under his back. He takes a moment to greet the weird smile-faced stain on her ceiling before sitting up, watching Georgie fold herself next to him and open a carboard box, taking out a chunky black microphone with a USB cable. She brandishes it like a sword, before angling it to her face.

“This is BBC 4 with breaking news,” she intones into the microphone, putting on a crisp RP accent and lowering her voice an octave. “Ghosts and ghouls have been discovered at King’s College, Oxford, residing as university professors. News anchor Jonathan Sims has the story. Sims?”

Jon presses back his giggles and leans into the character, accent already pretty close to the posh voice she puts on. “There’s been an error, actually. They’ve been the students all along. Journalism student Porgie Parker has been found out to have been a ghost. These discoveries were made after her boyfriend, English Literature student…Bonathan Bims, realized she had never picked up a textbook because she couldn’t! Her hands went right through them!” By the time he’s gotten to the word textbook, Georgie has pounced on him, microphone forgotten as she wrestles him to the bed, alternating between poking and tickling him until he lets the bit trail off, voice a mix of giggles and pleas for her to stop.

When she lets off, Jon abruptly realizes the intimacy of their position. She’s straddling him, her hands pinning his wrists to the plush pillow behind his head. They’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and smiling.

Jon isn’t sure who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. His arms are wrapped around Georgie’s neck and her hands are cupping his face, cool to the touch, nails lightly scratching his jawline. The bed is soft and Georgie is warm, pressing in from all sides, and it feels good. This he likes.

She kisses along his jawline and he feels heart rate pickup, flexing his hands (when did he curl them into fists?) as she presses against his neck. He wishes vaguely she’d put her hands back in his hair, he likes that soft feeling of pressure on his scalp. The smile on the ceiling is smirking at him now, the curve of the water stain looking more vicious than it had earlier.

Her hands are on his chest, she’s unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands feel too cold now, the shiver running through him one of anxiety, not desire, and Jon is sitting up before he knows what he’s doing. Fuck. Georgie, the saint, backs off him and kneels beside him on the bed. Jon’s hands flit to the undone buttons, fingertips circling them, suddenly unsure what to do.

“Are you okay, Jon?” Georgie’s voice is softer, eyes searching his face as she wedges her hands underneath her knees. He watches her wrists, the swing of her braids as she cocks her head, anything to avoid her eyes.

“I-” he gestures to her vaguely. “Y-You know I haven’t before, right?”

“Oh. Oh.” Georgie nods, understanding maybe a little better than he expected. “No offense, but I kinda figured, Jon. Not in a bad way!” She backpedals. “I just figured, you know, there’s no rush.”

“I mean, there’s a little of a rush,” he admonishes under his breath. At her hum of confusion: “You know, the whole-” he gestures again, as if he could pluck the word from the air. “-third date…thing.”

“Jon,” Georgie sighs his name, voice soft and so patient, a voice he doesn’t think he’s heard used anywhere else. “There’s no rule saying what we have to do when. Or how. Or ever, for that matter. It’s no one’s business what we do except ours.” She reaches out a hand, waiting for a slight nod, before taking his thin hands in her own. “Is that why you drank more than usual today?”

Jon nods, feeling a sag of relief spread throughout his body. “I just- I want to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, you twit. That’s why we’re friends and it’s why I’m dating you.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t need sex to be happy. Is it fun? Yes. But not necessary.”

Jon frowns, chewing on his lip and eyeing the window of her bedroom, tracing the rectangle with his eyes over and over again. “I-hmm.” Georgie watches him search for words; she knows how he ticks well enough to know they’re coming if she waits. “What if, hypothetically, I never had sex with you? Ever.”

“Well,” she gave his hands a light squeeze. “Hypothetically, I’d be totally okay with it, though I’d ask if you were asexual and make sure we had appropriate boundaries.”

“Huh?” The word draws him back to her face, the deep brown eyes that search his own. “Asexual. Like, no sex?” She nods, again, ever-patient. “Huh. Asexual.” He drops the pretense. “Maybe.”

Asexual. The word felt good as he rolled it around in his mouth. He traced the letters with his fingertips in cursive against his thigh as Georgie let go of him, rolling off her bed to pull on sweatpants and a t shirt instead of the dress she was wearing 

“Let’s look into it, if you want. Together.” Georgie grins at him now, rye and warm. “I will have to ask you if want hypothetical crisps, because I’m hypothetically fucking starving.”

[celosiaa]

hi me again 🥺 sorry for making you tear up even if it was in a good way (hopefully?) 💕 i don’t mind the wait at all, i completely understand and it’s 100% worth it (honestly i get so excited whenever you post a new fic)!! soooo... i was doing some research for a project on epilepsy and i got thinking about epileptic martin?? like particular in s1 maybe he didn’t tell the other archives crew as he didn’t know them that well/hadn’t worked closely with them before (ok sorry tbc as i am rambling)

hello friend!!! I am so sorry that this took me a literally unreasonable amount of time to write! I really enjoyed the research I did for this, and I love this hc forever. And I hope this is what you were looking for <3

CW seizures, nausea, misgendering

Focus.

Just focus.

For god’s sake.

It’s been nearly an hour of Martin sitting at his desk, trying desperately to rein in any sliver of concentration he can muster to look at the laptop screen before him. He feels awful doing it, but every time Jon has passed by his desk that day, he’s found himself pretending to click around or to type—though he’s got the brightness set so far down there’s no way he’d be able to see it anyway. After a few attempts at turning it back up, he’s had to immediately look away, as the pounding behind his eyes resumes again. So for now, he’s stuck with reading statements—something he is loathe to do even on a good day.

And this certainly wasn’t.

He knows better than this, knows that he’s very nearly approaching disaster—what with the not sleeping out of hypervigilance, not eating out of anxiety, and not having his seizure meds for the past two days, as he’d managed to run out of his flat without them. And there’s no doubt in his mind that he cannot send anyone back to his flat. Not with Prentiss still on the loose.

Selfish selfish selfish

No, stop it.

You haven’t even done anything.

Wishing more than anything that his mind did not constantly run him ragged with thoughts like this, Martin looks up from his papers, intending to find a rubber band to snap against his wrist as a distraction, but instead—

Instead he finds himself frozen, colors fading in and out across his vision, heartbeat steadily climbing as his fingers go numb.

No no no no

Not now not now please not now

Realistically, he knows it’s only been a few seconds, but the seconds feel like years against the rapid thrum thrum thrum in his ears, made even worse when he sees Tim approaching from the periphery.

Damn it damn it

Please please please

“Hey Marto!”

Like clockwork, the focal aware seizure ends, and at last—at last he is able to move enough to look up at where Tim stands, leaning against his desk, smile fading rapidly as he watches Martin blinking in the suddenly-too-bright light.

“You alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his face, doubtless taking note of how quickly he is breathing now to match his settling heart rate.

“Y-yeah, sorry, um. Was just thinking,” is all he can reply, fighting to put an easy smile back on his face.

It seems to have been the wrong move, as Tim only shifts to sit atop his desk, expression quickly becoming overrun with concern.

“Okay, well…you look like you’re having a panic attack, mate,” he says lowly, reaching across him to grab his water bottle and set it nearer to him. “What do you need?”

Even with his misguided interpretation, Martin can’t help the flood of affection he feels toward him in this moment—because that’s just Tim, isn’t it? Never assumes, just asks what will help and then does it.

If only I weren’t such a mess, and would let him.

“Oh, n-no it’s not—it’s not that, Tim, I’m—I’m alright. Must’ve…drifted off, or something. Had a nightmare.”

There is no way Tim buys that, no way in hell—but thankfully, he lets it go.

“O…kay then. Well. If that’s the case, I was just thinking of grabbing some lunch, do you want anything? Don’t reckon you’ve eaten properly in a bit, yeah?”

God, Tim.

I don’t deserve this.

Yes, you do. You deserve a friend and you need to eat.

You need to eat.

“Uhh—th-thanks, erm.  Where—where are you going?” he asks, wishing to god his voice didn’t sound so shaky.

He takes a few intentionally deep breaths after that—thinking that perhaps it is a panic attack, after all.  Without realizing that several seconds have gone by since his question, he feels Tim’s bracing hand on his shoulder, knowing that he’s not going to ask again—but offering him a clear sign that he’s there all the same.

“Just the corner shop,” he murmurs, starting to rub his thumb over the shoulder seam of Martin’s t-shirt. “Nothing fancy. But I can get you a sandwich, if you like. Well, no—I am getting you a sandwich regardless, but I thought I might be considerate for once and ask if there was anything in particular that you want.”

“Yeah—erm, yeah, just. Anything that’s warm would be nice,” he says at last, sinking a bit as Tim removes his hand from his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim. That’s—that’s really kind.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” he says, clapping his hand back against Martin’s shoulder with force before standing. “Be back in a bit. Drink that water.”

“I will,” Martin nods, earning himself some finger guns of approval before Tim starts walking towards the lift. “Thanks, mate.”

And he’s so close now, so close to shouting after him, to asking him to pick up his meds from the chemist, if he calls them in—

Just ask just ask just ask

—and then Tim is around the corner, and out of sight.

Damn it all.

He tells himself it’s probably for the best anyway—that he’s not really even sure he can get them. But it doesn’t stop him burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration and shame. Really though, he ought to call first before mentioning anything—perhaps they have a delivery service, or they’ll refuse him, or something.

And what then?

The idea of finding himself suddenly on the floor of the archives, alone and in the dark with the worms having crawled all over him while he seized—

Have to call.

Reaching bitterly for his phone, he takes a deep breath as it rings, preparing his best “customer service” voice.

“Boots, how can we help you today?”

“Hi! Erm, I was wondering if—if I could get a refill for my prescription? For—for carbamazepine,” he says, cheery voice belying the dread with which he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing! Just need your name and date of birth and I’ll look you up.”

“Right. Erm—well, it’s Martin, but I think you’ve still got me under, erm. Mary Blackwood,” he says, forcing himself not to grit his teeth at the foul taste his deadname leaves in his mouth. “Date of birth October 15th, 1987.”

“Alright, let’s see here—“

Please please please

“—it looks like you’ve already got your refill, Miss Blackwood. Our system says you picked up your medication on the 19th.”

“It’s—it’s Mister, actually. Erm,” he stammers, stomach churning over the entire thing. “L-listen, I—I’ve had to leave my home quite suddenly, and—and I am unable to return there for the time being. So I don’t—I don’t have access to my meds. And I, erm. Really need them.”

Pathetic pathetic pathetic

“I’m really sorry, Mister Blackwood. You’re going to have your doctor call in another prescription for you before we can get you that refill. Unfortunately, it’s out of our hands.”

Of course.

“Oh, right. That’s erm—that’s okay. Thank you so much,” he says as brightly as possible, unwilling to blame anyone for something out of their control.

“You’re quite welcome. Take care.”

With a long, shaky sigh, Martin throws his phone back onto his desk, returning his head to its rightful place, buried in his hands. There’s no way he can call his doctor today—or tomorrow even, with it already being a Friday afternoon. No chance of him getting his refill, then. And no chance of sending Tim back to his apartment either.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

It was just a focal, nothing too bad.

Nothing unmanageable.

I can make it.

Steeling himself with somewhat tremulous determination, he takes another long breath—blinking back against the steady pounding in his head, and getting back to work.

—

“Aw come on, Sasha! Take a break with me!”

“Not on your life. I’m still furious with you, you know,” she replies, tossing her hair like a lion’s mane over her back. “Can’t believe you’d go all the way to the good café for Martin, and not offer me anything. Not even crumbs, Stoker!”

“Listen—” Tim grins back, hands raised in self-defense. “He looked like he could use some soup! I don’t know what else to say.”

“And you didn’t get me any? What about me doesn’t scream ‘I could use some soup, thank you?’”

“It’s different!! It’s—Martin? You alright?”

As he was walking past their bickering, eyes firmly fixed on the floor on the lookout for worms, Martin had suddenly stopped short—looking anxiously up and over their heads, framed by the doorway of Jon’s office.

“Martin?” Tim repeats, already halfway to standing in worry, following Martin’s gaze behind him and finding nothing.

Faster than he can turn back around, Martin’s muscles all tense at once—and he tips backwards onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Shit! Martin!”

Tim darts forward at once, in some feeble attempt to catch him, but of course, far too late to do so. In his shock, he can do little but stand over him for a few seconds, taken aback upon seeing his eyes still open where he lies still on the floor.

“What happened?” Jon demands, stepping quickly out of his office towards them, where Sasha now crouches near his head.

“I-I don’t know, he just—”

And then Martin begins to convulse.

“Oh my god, he’s—he’s having a seizure,” Sasha gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, from where it had been pressed against his forehead.

“Fuck. Fuck, what do—what do we do? Do we call 999?” Tim shouts, unwilling to sit by and watch as this all goes on around him, already grabbing Sasha’s phone from her nearby desk.

“I—I think so, let me—”

“Wait.”

Two sets of eyes land upon Jon as he interjects, crouching near Martin’s flailing left arm, waiting for him to set it back down before quickly grabbing at a bracelet circling his wrist.

“I-it’s a medical bracelet. Says epilepsy,” he says lowly, quickly sitting back on his heels as Martin’s arm begins to jerk again.

“Fuck. I—I had no idea,” Tim breathes, running an anxious hand through his hair. “How could we not know?”

“We should—” Sasha breaks off quickly to swallow a lump in her throat, before continuing. “We should be timing it, did anyone see the time?”

“I-I don’t—it’s probably been less than a minute, right?”

“I think so. I’m—here, I’m googling it to make sure—”

While she does so, Martin’s head begins to slam into the ground—and Jon immediately pulls off his cardigan, folding it quickly and placing it beneath him to cushion the blow.

“It’s alright, big guy,” Tim says, settling down to kneel next to Jon, who now has a hand gently pressed to his shoulder—not holding him down, just resting there in a comfort Martin probably cannot receive.

Tim rests his own hand against Martin’s thigh all the same.

“Okay, I think we’re good so far,” Sasha says at last, setting her phone down with a timer running on the screen. “Just time it, and—and keep watch. If it goes past five minutes, we call 999.”

“That’s—that’s it?” Tim says in dismay, snapping his eyes back to his friend, still convulsing on the floor. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

“No. We just have to watch out for him,” she replies, voice low as she adjusts Jon’s cardigan beneath his head. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

Not the answer that Tim was looking for.

And so they wait—silent save for the rhythmic smacking of his limbs against the carpeted floor, and the occasional whispered platitude, though all know he cannot hear them. The seconds tick by in agony while they sit helpless, all eyeing the timer on Sasha’s phone creeping up steadily past three minutes.

“I don’t like this,” Tim says, knowing how useless it is to say so—Sasha raising her eyes to meet his for the first time in a while.

“Me neither.”

“Nearly three and a half minutes,” Jon mutters, worrying at his bottom lip while still resting a gentle hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“We’ve got you, Martin,” Tim mutters. “We’ve got you.”

Ten more seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

And at last—at last he goes still, right past the four-minute mark.

“Alhamdulillah,” Jon sighs as he lets his chin briefly rest against his chest, a sentiment echoed by everyone around him.

“Okay, turn him on his side, here—Tim—”

“Got it,” Tim says as he moves to crouch next to her, helping roll him towards Jon, head pillowed on the arm Jon stretched out across the floor as a cushion.

As soon as they get him in the recovery position, they watch as saliva runs out of his mouth, surely fit to choke him had they not turned him—and he begins to snore forcefully, catching Tim very much by surprise.

“Wh-what—” he asks in bewilderment, struggling to hold back a bit of shocked laughter.

“The website said that’s normal,” Sasha assures at once, reaching behind her to grab a box of tissues from her desk behind her. “He’s going to be sleepy for a bit.”

“Okay. That’s—okay,” he says, watching as Jon takes the tissues from Sasha and wipes at Martin’s face so very gently, before tossing them aside and taking his hand.

Taking his hand.

…interesting.

Stowing THAT away for later.

As Jon starts to move his thumb across the back of Martin’s palm, the snoring stops—and his eyes begin to flutter rapidly, attempting to force their way fully open.

“Hey Martin, can you hear me?” Sasha says rather loudly, bending over him and tapping his shoulder lightly.

All she receives in response is a moan, deep and low, as he squeezes and unsqueezes his eyelids, coughing a bit against the pooling saliva. Jon reaches for the tissues again at once, cleaning his face as best as possible.

“You’re okay mate,” Tim says, patting his hip before leaving his hand there for support. “You’ve had a seizure.”

It takes a few moments, but at last, Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely around without meeting Jon’s eyes.

“Wh’ happ’n?” he slurs—all three of them exchanging a meaningful glance, a bit alarmed.

“You had a seizure, Martin,” Sasha repeats, stroking at his hair while Tim starts rubbing his hand up and down his arm, hoping it will somehow help to ground him.

Remaining still for a few moments, still blinking, Martin tries to take it all in— looking down towards where Jon still rubs at his hand, though still seemingly unaware of his presence.

“What happened?” he asks again, voice less slurred, but still weak.

“A seizure, Martin,” Jon says, trying desperately to catch his eyes. “You’re alright.”

At once, Martin wrenches his hand away from Jon’s grasp in favor of clapping it over his mouth, muffling a small and desperate gasp behind it.

“Shit. You gonna be sick?” Tim asks, already looking around him for something to grab as Jon once again prepares his tissues.

He does not respond right away, instead pausing for a few deep breaths—at last shaking his head no. In both relief and the absence of something to do with his hands, Jon fusses at the cardigan again—positioning it just so.

“Wh—oh, seizure,” Martin breathes, and Tim cannot help but feel relieved at his gaining a bit of orientation back.

“Yeah.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Martin moves the hand clapped over his mouth to rest on his eyes, sniffling a bit before speaking.

“M’so sorry,” he gasps—and it’s enough to break Tim’s heart.

All of their hearts apparently, as they immediately place their hands on him in a gesture of comfort.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Sasha soothes, brushing back his fringe again.

“M’sorry.”

“Martin, it’s alright,” reassures Jon, with such rare gentleness that even Martin lowers his hand to look—wincing quickly as he does so, and placing it back over his eyes at once.

“Do the lights hurt?” Sasha asks worriedly, placing her hand to cover his own, hoping to block more of it out.

“Yeah—ah,” he grits out with a pained little gasp, and Jon gets to his feet.

“I’ll get them,” he says, and walks quickly to the switch, sending them into a darkness illuminated only by the light from the hall.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Martin lowers his hand again, eyes still closed, and rubs absently at his nose. Stumbling a bit as his eyes adjust to the dark, Jon makes his way back to kneeling beside him, taking up his free hand again.

“Your head okay?” asks Tim, prompting Sasha to card through his hair to look for any swelling. “I’m sorry I didn’t—I couldn’t catch you.”

“…what?” comes the vague response, delayed by a few seconds as Martin tries in vain to sort through what was said.

“Still confused,” Sasha mouths at him silently—and he nods, instead going back to rubbing up and down Martin’s arm, as Sasha moves to massage his neck.

“M’sorry.”

“Hush, darling. It’s alright,” she says, and Tim knows without a doubt she will sit there all day, repeating these same things to him as long as he needs.

And loves her for it.

“…wh—Jon?”

Eyes more focused than ever, Martin looks down to where Jon still rubs a thumb over his palm, stunned very his very presence in this space.

“Yes, I’m here,” he murmurs, offering a small squeeze of affirmation, inadvertently painting a soft grin briefly across Martin’s face—before it drops quickly again in horror, as the reality of the situation sinks in again.

“Oh god. I—oh god.”

“It’s okay, Martin.”

“No no no.”

“It’s alright,” Jon comforts, more soothing than Tim had ever imagined would be possible for him. “Just be still. You’re alright.”

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen as Martin’s confusion slowly fades away—his recovery naturally filled with a deluge of apologies, patient soothing from his friends, and tending to the waves of nausea that come over him every few minutes. Ever so gradually, he becomes better able to hold a conversation; better able to hold their gaze, asking what happened before he went down, explaining that his…well, everything is sore, but that it’s nothing unmanageable.

There is very little that Martin would call “unmanageable,” of course, but it’s the most they will get out of him.

“I think I can sit up now,” he says after a bit, bracing his arms underneath himself to prepare, and Tim reaches out to support him at once.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

A bit slow, a bit clumsy, they get him up—not without some worried questioning when he hunches forward, face buried in his hands as the headache worsens with the change of posture. But luckily, it dulls as quickly as it comes, and Martin soon finds himself able to look up, even to offer a bit of a sheepish smile.

“Want some water?” Tim asks as soon as he looks steady.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m on it,” he says, refusing to accept any of Martin’s guilt-laden excuses, and dashes off to the kitchen at once, leaving Jon and Sasha still vaguely holding onto him in the fear that he might fall again.

“I’m alright, guys, really,” he assures, though he makes no effort to shrug their hands off—so there they stay.

“Do you know what caused this, Martin?” Sasha asks, folding his collar from where it sticks up at the nape of his neck.

With a heavy sigh and an exhausted pinch to the bridge of his nose, Martin replies, face reddening with shame.

“Yeah. You’re—you’re going to laugh.”

“Why would we laugh?” Jon asks so earnestly, so softly that it wins him a long and surprised look from Martin.

“I…dunno really, just. It’s just that it’s—it’s all my own fault. Stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—I don’t—” he cuts off for a moment to hiss painfully as he rubs at his temple again, and Sasha’s hold tightens ever so slightly as a precaution. “I don’t have my…seizure meds with me. I left them at my flat when—when I ran. From Prentiss.”

Of course.

Of course he did.

“I would have gotten them for you Martin!” Tim shouts as he returns with the water. “Any of us would, mate. You should have said.”

“I didn’t want to send you back to my flat. She might…she might still…be there.”

He fades a bit as he speaks—rubbing once more at his temples, and Sasha resumes her ministrations of massaging his neck.

“Alright, just—it’s alright, Martin,” Jon soothes, a bit alarmed at the way he’s hunched back over—seemingly nauseous again, as he moves the bin a bit closer to himself just in case. “What can we do now?”

After a few long, deep breaths, his churning stomach finally settles long enough for him to answer, albeit a bit more vague-sounding than moments before.

“I tried…I tried to call the chemist, but…they won’t refill it unless I…unless I talk to my doctor. And it’s not like I can just go.”

“You have to get some from A&E then,” Tim insists, sitting back down next to him and pressing a hand atop his shoulder.

“No, I can’t.”

“We’ll go with you,” mutters Jon, before clearing his throat, returning to his best confident-boss tone. “We’ll keep watch for the worms. Go prepared.”

“You don’t—“

“We will,” Sasha says emphatically, leaving no room for argument—and even Martin knows when the battle is lost. “We’re happy to do it, Martin. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” he very nearly whispers, face flushing beet red as the undue attention of the afternoon catches up with him. “That’s really…too kind.”

“Well, you’ve got to get it somehow, mate,” Tim says with a chuckle, earning himself a warning glare from both Sasha and Jon. “What? I’m sure Martin wants this to happen again even less than we do. Which is saying a lot.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, surprising them all by chuckling briefly in return. “Reckon you’re right about that. I didn’t—this is pretty much my worst nightmare, so…just so you all know how sorry I am.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Sasha laughs. “And it keeps continuing to not be your fault.”

“Right. Sure.”

He does not sound at all sure—but she lets it go all the same.

“We should go today, Martin,” Jon says as he stands, already grabbing a canister of CO2 in preparation. “Don’t want you to miss another dose.”

“And take that thing on the Tube?” Martin laughs, fully smiling for the first time since the whole affair began. “Think we might get some looks.”

“It’s the Tube, mate. Stranger things have happened,” Tim chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly before jumping in to assist him in standing.

“Suppose you’re probably right about that.”

“Let’s go then,” says Jon, face steeled as if armed to the teeth and ready to tangle with anything coming his way. “Work that needs doing.”

[fandomtrash264]

I have some Fred and George promts that I don't want to forget so imma put them here. If you are interested in writting them, by all means go for it, just tag me. I don't think I have a preference over who is in each scenario. I will probably write George and Fred based on what I thought but they should work with either twin. I do think they are different, im just saying that I could see the story going with either boy

• Reader and Fred pull a prank on George that changes his hair color based on mood. (Red - angry, blue - sad, green - disgust, light pink - embarrassed, hot pink - flirty, purple - in love/swooning, dark purple -lust) The 3 are sitting in the great hall eating and George is staring at reader and his hair turns purple. Reader thinks he has just zoned out and starts to bug him asking who he is thinking about. Leads to confession (and I imagine he is embarrassed so his hair is pink)

• Reader is a metamorphmagus and they like to switch between male and female so they change their physical appearance as such. (I see Fred as bi ngl) Fred gets a crush on the reader without knowing they are both people. A little while later, he falls for the other side (if that makes sense) of them and thinks he likes 2 different people. He is super torn and has no idea what to do

•This one is a Soulmate AU. The one where you can hear the music your soulmate is listening to. Reader is listening to ✨🌶 S p i c y 🌶 ✨ music and he knows its reader and he is shocked because they don't seem like they would listen to it and he is pleasantly suprised to find they are super flirty and such (he is twin of your choice lol)

•Yet again, one of our boys gets pranked. They lie about something that makes reader upset so they prank them so that everytime they try to talk, bubbles come out instead and the only way to undo it is to do somthing super embarrassing (I'll leave that to y'alls imagination's) and they refuse because they are petty but they eventually give in with this big social stunt or smth

•i imagine reader is a Ravenclaw (could really be any) who is the child of Bellatrix and *Moldy Voldy* (why ravenclaw you ask? I'll explain) They are in George and Fred's year so they are older than Harry. Reader was rescued a little before Harry was born and got to stay with someone else (probably Remus or smth. I imagine a gryfinndor so that way the Slytherin and the Gryfinndor kinda cancel out so you get Ravenclaw. Slytherin is their blood but they know its wrong so they push for the good values. I know slytherins can be good [believe me, I am very big on the fact that not all Slytherins are evil] but when its Bella and Mr. Tom, they have some bad bones) and they keep it a secret from their friends (the twins, the trio, etc.) Until Remus brings them to an OoTP meeting. He doesn't say who he just says he is bringing He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named 's child and they are terrified of how their friends will react. Kinda angsty but eventually they all understand that reader isn't evil

• Branching off of the previous, same family situation but when they were younger, they weren't seen as a child, they were a weapon. Trixie and Tommy boy would experiment on them so they are lowkey fucked up. They are super powerful and struggle to control it. Reader freaks out because they are terrified that he will be able to control them or see in their mind and good 'ole Gred and Forge help our reader to feel better and reassure them

• Reader and a twin are dating in 7th year (With Umbridge) and instead of breaking up or telling them about the plan to start a shop, they just leave and break off all contact. Years later they see each other and reader confronts them about how he couldn't even break up with them before leaving and he confesses his worries. Inspired by the song Ways to Break a Heart by Maddie Zahm [you can find it on YouTube]

• Can happen to either the reader or George or Fred but somehow by prank or accident in class, they get separated into different parts of themselves [parts like the 7 deadly sins (so they would be split into Pride and Lust) but also other things work (like Fear and Wonder)] and the other 2 have to deal with it until the problem is fixed

• (I have a lot with the boys and pranks, sorry lol) the boys get de-aged and reader has to chase them around because they are H E A T H E N S but then later on they put them to sleep and the Love Interest (twin of choice) snuggles up to them and mentions how much they love them and reader gives it no mind because "he was a baby". They snuggle and when they wake up the boys are of normal age and the Love Interest just snuggles closer and says something like "I meant it y'know. I really do love you/think you're amazing" and just. Fluff

• (I wrote George, yet again, could work with either) Reader is playing with the sleeve/hem/string of George's sweater/hoodie and he quips with a flirty comment like "you want the whole thing? Here, give it back when it smells like you" and the reader brushes it off as a flirty comment and teases "how am I supposed to know what I smell like? I'm noseblind to myself" and he gives them a scent. The scent seems familiar to them but oh well. They wear it because its soft and it smells like him and later on when they are chilling in the common room or whatever (George isn't there) they realize that's what he said he smelt in his Amortentia in potions last week and they lowkey freak out and go to ask him about it and aaaah! Cute things ensue

• [!!!TW: Depression, suicidal thoughts!!!] Can happen to either reader or one of the boys.(If it happens to a boy i see it being George as he seems insecure of being in Fred's shadow and I will write the prompt that way but it works with Fred and reader as well) George has been a little off recently and reader and Fred can't figure out what it is until reader goes to the astronomy tower late one night and finds George on the roof of the atronomy tower, seemingly fighting with himself about whether or not he should jump off. Angst, ends with fluff, reader helps him to feel better. Inspired by the song Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths

•During their 6th year with the Triwizard Tournament, a durmstrange gent takes a liking to the reader. They start to court the reader and flirt with them, give them lots of compliments, try to show their affection. The Love Interest (again, twin of choice) get REALLY jealous tho and decides to try and out-do the durmstrang boy. This leads to really extravagant methods of flirting (ex. Sending a howler that is actually a shower of compliments or after a big quidditch match, the whole team does a choreographed dance where the suitor sings/performs to reader) all of this leading up to the yule ball. They either go with the durmstrange guy and deal with Love Interest later or they end up going with the Twin, whatever you would like

• Everyone is at the Burrow and they decide to watch a movie. While everyone is in the kitchen, the twin (who is the Love Interest) comes by and says "Oh! Are you guys watching a movie?" Readet replies "Yeah, P.S. I Love you" and he just blushes really hard and sits next to them and says "I love you too". Reader doesn't know how of if they are gonna tell him that "P.S. I Love You" is the name of the movie. Then everyone else comes back in so they have to wait until after the movie to talk about it. The whole time the movie is going all they can focus on are the "I Love You"s that escaped each others mouths. Inspired by a wolfstar text post by @starsandmoonys

• Inspired by the drarry work, Mental by sara_holmes on Ao3 (which you should totally go read like holy shit i love this idea sooooo much) written with George but as usual, can work with either. Reader is in for total shock when a joke gone sour ends with George striking them with a bad Legilimency spell. Due to this spell, they can (and have to) hear each others thoughts and see the pictures in each other's minds. What will happen when they see all that goes on in each others heads? Will they learn to communicate? Will they let one another in? Will they like who they see, or will they be scared away from the thoughts behind closed eyes?

• (TW!!!!: Dreamt character death, War) Fred and reader have been friends-with-benefits for a long time with feelings slowly growing between the 2 of them. They stay in denial until Fred has a nightmare one day where reader dies in the war. The next day he is desperate to hold them and see that they are okay. He confesses his feelings in fear of losing them. Inspired by Woke the Fuck Up - Jon Bellion

• [(TW!!! War) Fred lives] Fred and Reader had a huge fight right before Fred and George left Hogwarts and leave things on a rocky ending. Fred knows just how much he needs Reader and he desperately wants them back. Reader doesn't want to admit it but they miss him.and want him back too. They see each other again after the war and Fred breaks down in their arms and confesses how much he misses them and needs them. How hard it has been without them. Reader reciprocates these feelings and tells him. They start over, slowly building their love up again inspired by Bad Habit - Ben Platt [First verse and Pre-chorus would be Fred's feelings and second verse and Pre-chorus would be Reader. They blend on the 3rd]

• George has been strangely quiet all day. Reader is confused and a little hurt as George seems to avoid them. Leaving rooms when they walk in, not keeping eye contact and staying as physically far as he can. That is until they sit down in the great hall for lunch and Fred tells his friends (including reader) all about having put a truth serum in George's drink and all the funny things he has gotten him to admit. Reader goes to confront George about what he is hiding (because otherwise he would talk to them, right?) And they get an oddly specific but touching confession [ie. "I borrow your chapstick because that is what your lips will taste like" and "I see you in my dreams almost every night" ] inspired by Jenny - Studio Killers

• [Choose whether the person who can dance is reader or Twin of Choice. I will be writting with reader] The yule ball is coming up and reader can't dance to save their life. A certain red-heades friend comes in to help. At first, reader doesn't believe him because "c'mon, why would you know how to ballroom dance?" But they are pleasantly suprised to find they are actually really good at it. Like, REALLY good. "Mum made all of us learn. In case we ever needed it". Reader notices their feelings start to change as they spend more and more sessions together dancing until the yule ball occurs. Take it from there lol

• just a very cliche typical love potion fic. Reader volunteers to be on the receiving end of one of Fred and George's pranks- spike their drink with love potion- on one condition. The person reader will be in love with, knows about it. Reader figures this will allow them some leeway and safety against other pranks. All is going well until they spike the drink for reader to like (twin of your choice) and they realize that nothing has happened except they are a bit more flirty. Everyone is crazy confused because for everyone else they were head over heels swooning and attached at the hip until Hermionie (or somebody else) quips in with "You can't create something that already exists, y'know".

• So this one is less creative and it's also a mix of 2 tropes but bear with me. Reader is a very outgoing flirtatious type of person. They openly flirt with everyone, Fred, Ginny, Neville, Dean, etc. They don't care, its a way they show affection. Then, when they start to get a crush on George (or Fred) they star getting more shy and reserved with him. And he is completely clueless. He's lowkey hurt because "why doesn't Y/n crack jokes like that with me?" And shit like that. He is feeling down when he sees it. No, not 'it', he sees you. You and Fred flirting. He's got you cornered to the wall and your cheeks are flushed and George is big mad. (When really, Fred just cornered them so they couldn't avoid the question and was teasing and asking about their crush on George). George ends up seeing out Y/n, getting them alone and confronting them. Light angst? But ends fluffy as reader explains what actually happened

*im going to keep updating this as I get more ideas so be prepared*

[what-if-i-imagine]

Hey darling, do you think you could do a DamiJon one shot with the sentence starter "Are we on a date right now?" Where Damian is very oblivious to his and Jon's feelings and doesn't understand crushes/love much to Jon's frustration?

Sorry This took so long! It doesn’t exactly match up with the last pat of the prompt, but here you go!

It was a sunny day, as was the usual for the bright and busy city of Metropolis, and Damian swore he was the only one for miles who was not enjoying the lack of cloud cover and gloomy weather. Everyone they passed by on the streets wore blinding smiles and talked with too much enthusiasm for a Monday afternoon. People waved at strangers and stopped for street performers, and in general acted as the Utopian image of city life.

Damian almost found himself missing the dark and very real streets of Gotham. Almost.

Of course,  that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying the day so far.

At that particular moment, he was walking down a sidewalk with a certain Kryptonian boy who was laughing far too hard for someone who hadn’t been told a joke.

“The acting was unrealistic, the CGI was terrible and the props and costumes were the work of anmitures,” Damian persisted, still hung up on the awful movie they had gotten out of half an hour before. It had been the newest installment in the Sunrise series, and it was so bad Damian would have been at a loss for words if he were forced to watch just five more minutes.

He had only gone to see it in the first place because Jon had loved the first movie and he, Raven and Todd had all loved the books. If the books were anything like the movie had been, Damian would have to have a serious talk with his friends and brother about their taste in media.

“Stop laughing, I’m serious,” Damian huffed, but despite his annoyance he was fighting a smile of his own.

“It’s good bad,” Jon said through his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes and clutching his side.

“That wasn’t ‘good bad’ it was a disgrace to all of cinema!” Damian scoffed. “I knew you were tasteless, but I had no clue it was this atrocious.”

“You just aren’t getting it because you’re taking it too seriously,” Jon insisted. “If you stop looking at it as an actual romance and look at it from a comedic angle, it’s the best thing ever.”

“The protagonist was bland, her love interests behaviors were unrealistic, and the message of the story is disgusting,” Damian continued to list off the movie’s flaws.

“Damian, stop for one second,” Jon said, finally freed of his laughter. “Remember, we aren’t the intended audience. The intended audience is teenage girls. It wasn’t meant for a message, it was meant for escapism and wish fulfillment for its intended audience. When you keep that in mind, it’s an absolute masterpiece.”

“Tt, whatever you say farm boy,” Damian rolled his eyes. He checked his watch while Jon laughed a little more. “We still have three hours before we have to meet Drake and the Clone.”

“Perfect,” Jon bounced. “That means we have time to stop by the arcade, sweets shop and my favorite cafe!”

“If you insist,” Damian sighed.

“Don’t be like that, I’ve had this day planned for weeks!” Jon whined, tugging on his arm. “I even did extra chores this week so we would have enough money.

“You could have just asked me to bring my wallet,” Damian said.

“Nu-uh, there is no way I’m letting you pay for our first outing together,” Jon shook his head.

“This isn’t our first-” Damian was quickly cut off as Jon pulled him into the arcade, his super speed and strength slipping ever so slightly so that he had to rub his arm and catch his breath afterwards. By the time he regained his balance, Jon had rushed over to the coin machine and was feeding in a twenty he had earned from mowing the lawn and washing the dishes.

When he came back, he took Damian’s hand and dumped about half of the coins into it with a grin. He had been practically glowing ever since they had met up that morning, an effect that Damian could easily write off as being due to the shining sun and not his presence, as Drake had insisted. Even inside the arcade, shaded and away from the sun, the fifteen year old was still shining brighter than any of the neon lights around them.

Damian just shook his head but relented as Jon dragged him around the arcade, showing off his gaming skills and earning tickets. Damian was decent at most of the games, but was too unused to the mode of gaming compared to the consuls he played on with his family to truly be any good. He would never admit that out loud of course. It would go right to Jon’s head he was sure.

Damian had run out of coins and only had a fistful of tickets by the time Jon was down to his last two had had a plastic bag filled.

For his last game, Jon took Damian by the hand and pulled him towards an arm wrestling game that reached to the ceiling with a bell at the top. Damian had seen such a game in a cheesy movie Brown had shown him and the rest of the family. After asking his father more about the game, he was informed that, as many carnival games were, it was completely rigged and impossible to win.

“Those don’t actually work you know,” Damian said, leaning against the machine with an unimpressed raise to his brow. “Even for your strength it won't budge.”

“Want to bet?” Jon asked, his grin growing wider, a far cry from the shy and timid Jon Kent and much closer to the Superboy he knew from their late night escapades.

Damian snorted but gave a single nod. A simple dip of his chin, never breaking eye contact.

“All of the loser’s tickets to the winner?” Jon asked.

“Whatever you say,” Damian agreed.

Jon rolled up his sleeves and, gaze still on Damian, took hold of the fake hand and started the simulated arm wrestling contest.

Damian actually gave a jump when he felt something rush past him inside the machine and hit the bell at the top with an almost deafening ding ding ding!

While he stared wide eyed up at the bell, Jon cheered and collected the tickets spilling out from the machine into his plastic bag. When Damian turned back to him, still slightly in shock, Jon was holding out his hand expectantly with a self satisfied smirk.

“The machine must be broken,” Damian said as he handed them over.

“Whatever you say,” Jon teased. After taking the tickets, he took Damian’s hand again and went up to the prize counter to feed the tickets into a machine to get a receipt. He handed off said recit to a tired looking teenager, only a year or so older than Damian, bouncing on his heels.

“Could I have that bear?” he asked, pointing up to the ceiling. Damian followed his finger’s direction and found a large bear that was at least five feet tall hanging from the ceiling. It had a superman symbol on it’s chest in the shape of a heart, which was more than enough to make Damian roll his eyes. It was very much something the young Kent would waste his tickets on as a gag with his family.

The teenager behind the counter smiled through their clear as day lack of sleep and scanned both the recibt and the little sign that announced the bear’s price. He had to pull over a ladder and get a long hooked pole to unloop the bear from where it was hung up, and struggled with handing it to Jon over the counter.

As soon as the bear was in his arms, though, Jon immediately pushed it to Damian’s chest. He struggled at first, with the bear being as big as himself, but managed to get a good hold on it and look around it to furrow his brows in question.

“I won it for you,” Jon said like it was obvious. “If you need me to carry it it can.”

“I am perfectly fine carrying the monstrosity on my own,” Damian said. “You couldn’t have chosen a more impractical gift?”

“It's not an impractical gift,” Jon said. “It’s cute.”

“Can it not be both?” Damian asked, but relented in following Jon out of the arcade the fastest he could with the monstrous stuffed animal in his arms.

“Sweets shop or cafe next?” Jon said allowed, though it was clear he was asking himself.

“We only have time left for one of the two,” Damian said after checking his watch again.

“Cafe it is then!” Jon said. He guided Damian back down the Metropolis sidewalk, pointing out different stores and vendors along the way as he told stories about them. Damian only heard half of the stories, his sight too focused on Jon’s lit up and expressive face for any of his other senses to properly function.

Halfway through a story about a noodle store he liked to visit with his older brother, Jon noticed Damian’s staring. He ducked his head, his cheeks flaring bright red, and Damian couldn’t help but give the smallest of smiles at the reaction.

The rest of the walk to the cafe, Jon’s voice was back to its usual shy softness as he chatted on about the city he so clearly loved. Damian didn’t stop his staring, but did end up lost in his own thoughts about the past years’ events.

He could still very clearly remember the day when he was thirteen and his father had carefully sat him down in his study for a talk. During that talk, he was told of one of the most disturbing things yet to happen in his life, which was saying something considering his childhood.

Through dimension hopping events that Damian never bothered to understand, Jon had gone from ten years old to seventeen overnight. He was different now that he was so much older, and Damian found a hole grow in his chest from the loss of his closest friend.

The event was possibly the thing that finally cemented his bond with Drake, and they had both lost their kryptonian friends under circumstances completely out of their control. The only problem Damian saw with the bonding they had done was that Drake had gotten Conner back. Not only had he gotten him back, but the two had started dating not too long after his return, which brought Damian an odd sense of jealousy he had never been able to understand.

After a year of consideration between himself and his parents, Jon had gone to Zatanna for help in reversing his physical age. The magician had agreed, but had only been half successful in her daunting task. The next time Damian saw Jon, he was only a year younger than him, still with his ever present height advantage, now coupled with his mental age.

Damian was still ashamed when he remembered his initial reaction of slamming the door in Jon’s face. He had refused to speak to the Kryptonian for months on end, so unsure of how to feel about the entire situation he had found himself in. He had gotten his friends back, but he wasn’t sure if he was still really his friend.

He still wished that his family could have stopped being so damn unconditionally supportive for one moment and knocked some sense into him so he could have accepted Jon’s returned presence in his life earlier than he actually had.

It had been a year since the two had fully reunited, apologies coming from both ends despite Damian’s admit denial that Jon had anything to apologize for. He was big enough to admit he had been the one fully in the wrong even though everyone repeatedly told him his reaction was perfectly reasonable for a fourteen year old presented with such a stressful situation. Even at sixteen, he couldn’t understand Jon’s easy forgiveness of his behavior.

“Dami?” Jon pulled him from his thoughts gently, cheeks faded to a much softer pink, but the blush still clearly present.

“I’m okay,” Damian nodded, ignoring the clear pull in his chest. Jon had been so gentle with him the past year no matter how much they had both moved on, and it was enough to drive him crazy “You were saying?”

“We’re here,” Jon smiled, nodding to the cafe now in front of them.

Damian gave a small smile in return and followed Jon to the outdoor table he claimed to be his favorite. While Jon placed their orders at the front, Damian set the super bear up in one of the seats at the table. He pulled out his phone while he waited, finding texts from Grayson, Todd and Brown all asking him a variation of ‘how’s the date going?’

Damian responded to all the texts from his prying siblings with ‘it’s not a date’ and put his phone away again to look around at the others sitting outside of the cafe.

There were a few younger high school and older middle school students hanging around the tables and benches outside the cafe, enjoying the nice weather and food Jon had claimed to be some of the best in metropolis (“Besides that one time Conner brought me with him to a custody required dinner with Lex a few years ago. That was the best,” he remembered the teen chatting on the walk there). Damian realized Jon had probably learned about the cafe from friends he knew from school.

As he looked around, though, he noticed more and more that the other teens around him were all there in pairs. Sipping on milkshakes and coffees together while they ate a split pastry. Some were holding hands over or under the table, or kissing on benches or leaned against the cafe’s garden walls. Subconsciously he found himself beginning to go into panic, because this was clearly not a place a normal friend from school would take Jon.

He didn’t understand why he was panicking at the notion of the boy having a boyfriend or girlfriend, or having gone on dates before. He was mentally aged to nineteen, even if he was currently dwelling in the body of a fifteen year old.

Maybe it was because sitting among these couples brought out something in him that had nothing to do with Jon. At least, he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Jon.

He had never felt threatened or out of place when at events that had many couples, his age, younger and older, all gathered and acting as couples. He knew the divorce, widowing and murder rates in Gotham meant that very few couples actually lasted for life. Even around his family he never found himself upset because he was too happy for their pairings. His father and Selina had made a great match despite his earlier doubts, Grayson and West were married with kids of their own, Todd and Harper as dysfunctional as they were still held Damian’s vote as the best fit couple in the family, and Drake and Jon’s cloned older brother were engaged to be wed in the spring.

But these couples were affecting him in such a way that he started to squeeze his stuffed bear’s paw under the table.

What’s wrong with Gotham? He thought, rerunning every statistic and horror story of love he knew from the city. The thought quickly morphed into What’s wrong with me?

It had been a long time since he asked that question, two years to be exact, and it was quickly waved away back to his first question. It had taken years of extensive therapy ordered by Alfred and plenty of love and care from his family, colleagues and friends to help him accept there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was raised in harsh circumstances that his mother had gotten him out of and to his father the soonest she could. He had built walls and defences, and he knew now at a more mature age that they were all just for show and were unneeded now.

He looked around at the couples again and forced his heart not to harden in the presence. It was beautiful what youth and a good city could do to grow love, and he would be damned if he let a coping mechanism from his childhood make him view it as any less.

“Sorry I took so long,” Jon’s laugh caught his attention and he gave a soft smile up at his friend.

“Not at all.”

Jon took his seat across from him and sat down the tall pink and white milkshake between them as well as a napkin with two cookies on it. Just with a glance Damian could tell Jon had gotten him a dark chocolate variety, and couldn’t help but let his smile grow.

His attention on the cookies of course made him belatedly notice that the milkshake was singular and had two straws sticking up from the top.

“I wasn’t sure what flavor you wanted,” Jon admitted while Damian’s gaze whipped around them, knowing there must be a mistake. Instead of an explanation, Damian’s eyes locked onto a few couples who had a drink or milkshake set up the same way. One drink, two straws, with them drinking from them happily as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“It’s strawberry and cream,” Jon said, drawing his attention again. The teen across from him was nervously adjusting his glasses and pushing back his dark curls, looking anywhere but Damian. Damian noticed the faint blush dusting his cheeks and smiled, before his entire face went red at realization that he had just smiled at his friend blushing.

His brothers’ and Brown’s texts suddenly came back to mind, along with a few romcoms they had watched together and his own observations of his family and their significant others. The movie with a shared bucket of popcorn, the holding hands, the bear purchased and given after winning an arcade game, and now the obviously romantic cafe with a two straw milkshake and a blush.

“Are we on a date right now?” Damian blurted, eyebrow furrowed but eyes wide.

Jon’s head snapped up so quick Damian had barely seen it, compliments of super speed, his eyes equally as wide, “I thought we were, but your expression is telling a totally different story. You don’t have any kryptonite batarangs on you right now, right?”

“Why would I-” Damian shook his head, “We’re on a date no one had the decency to tell me?”

Well, technically Grayson, Todd and Brown had told him, but that wasn’t important. What was important was how shrill his voice was to his own ears, and the sympathetic glances a few couples were giving him.

“I asked Tim to ask you if you go on a date with me since my phone broke,” Jon was babbling now, hands flying around as he tried to explain. “I thought when he told Conner that you said yes you were saying yes to the date!”

A set up, Damian realized. Drake had fully intended for this mess to happen just to spite him. The man was lucky Damian now accepted he loved him, or he would never live to see his spring wedding.

“I need a second,” Damian said, resting his head in his hands. His face felt hot under his fingers, and he feared to imagine just how red it had become. A lifetime of training was all falling apart all because he had spent an entire date with a cute boy completely in the dark to the fact that it was a date.

Wait. Cute boy?

Did he think Jon was cute? Jon was cute, he had always known that, but did he really think he was cute in the way that Drake found the clone cute?

He had been jealous when Tim got the clone back but he lost Jon. That meant something, he had always known that, but he had never really looked into it. If he thought Jon was cute in that way, it explained the jealousy. The feeling of emptiness the half kryptonian boy’s absence had left him with. The reaction of honest to god fear when Jon came back in a way that was definitely socially unacceptable for him to be with.

Jon is cute. I like Jon. Jon likes me…

“Dami?” Jon said quietly, nervously. No, it was more than nerves now, he was afraid. He was afraid in the same way Damian had seen him in his older form. Rejection and heartbreak surly making the taste in his mouth bitter as apologies he didn't need to say weighed on his tongue.

“We’re on a date,” Damian finally said, peeking up from behind his finger. He said it as the statement it was and not the question from before.

“If you want to be,” Jon nodded, some of the fear falling away.

Damian took his hands away from his face but kept his eyes on the milkshake instead of Jon’s face. It was already starting to melt and turn sluggish in its tall cup.

“I want to be,” he said, a soft smile falling on his lips.

“Thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would tell Mom if I went home single,” Jon sighed in relief, then stopped. “That does mean you want to be my boyfriend, right?”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Damian affirmed, smile growing wider. There was something fuzzy and warm and safe growing in his chest. It reminded him of Jon, as silly as it was considering Jon was the one who put it there.

“Thank goodness,” Jon repeated, letting his head fall on the table. “I think that was the most stressful thing I’ve ever done.”

“Jon, you’ve fought gods.”

“That was a hundred times easier than this was.”

“The milkshake is melting.”

Jon bounced up at that and quickly leaned forward to start gulping the sugary drink from his straw. Damian shook his head with a smaller smile and leaned forward as well.

His face lit up in heat once again when their noses brushed and Damian realized just how close there were, but he didn’t pull back. The milkshake was good, but it had nothing on the bashful and overwhelmingly happy look in Jon’s eyes. Damian was sure it was a look he could get drunk off of if he tried.

“We should probably get going,” Jon said with heavy remorse after they finished the milkshake.

“Probably,” Damian agreed, checking his watch. He wished he had the ability to make time stop, just for a second. He had just found out this was a date, and it was already ending. He would have to use the walk back to Drake and the clone to make up for that lost time.

As they walked down the sidewalk they finished their cookies and stared ahead at the near setting sun. When they were both finished, Damian took Jon’s hand and intertwined their fingers without looking towards him.

“Our next date you should take me to that sweets shop you’ve been talking about,” Damian said with a smile teasing his lips. He glanced from the corner of his eye just in time to catch Jon smiling a close lipped but wide smile. Domain was sure he would never get over how shy Jon could get in his civilian persona.

“I will,” Jon promised.

They reached the fountain they were meeting their brothers much too soon for Damian’s liking. Drake and clone spoted them right away, surly partially due to the oversized stuffed bear Damian was hulling along, and smiled upon spotting their intertwined fingers.

“I see the date went well,” Drake said with a devilish grin.

“No thanks to you,” Damian glared.

“He was just having a little fun,” the older Kent boy waved off Damian’s anger. “You figured it out before it ended at least.”

“Barely,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“But we still had fun,” Jon interjected. “Thank you for bringing Damian with you. It was a good first date.”

“First date as in there will be more,” the clone’s grin matched his fiance’s as he looked between them. “Jon you sly dog, did you get yourself a bat boyfriend?”

“Oh my God,” Jon mumbled, face going red in a new way for that day that was more familiar to Damian as his My Family is Embarrassing me Please Send Help face, as titled by his brother.

“He did,” Damian spoke up for him with a slightly puffed chest.

“I did,” Jon repeated with a smile down at Damian.

“Well, it’s time for me to get your little bat back to Gotham,” Tim interjected.

“Who are you calling little?” Damian raised an eyebrow. He was as tall as Drake and still growing. If it weren’t for Cain, Drake would have been the shortest of the bats.

“Can you please let me live in a fantasy where my little brother is still little for five minutes?” Drake pleaded with him.

Damian rolled his eyes again as Drake kissed his fiance goodbye.

Together they started to walk away from the Kent brothers and back to Drake’s car. Drake allowed the kick that came to his shins as they walked off and even smiled. When they got to the car, Damian had made up his mind.

“Hold this,” Damian said, passing the bear off to Drake as quickly as he could with a stuffed animal of it;s size. “If you drop Jon Jr. I won't hesitate to stick a blade in your shin.”

“Got it, no dropping,” Drake grinned at him over the bear. “Go get him.”

Damian nodded and ran back in the direction they had come from until he reached the fountain and spotted the Kent brothers walking in the other direction. He had to rush to keep up with even just their walking speed, reminding him of how much Jon had to control himself and slow down the entire day. Luckily his own speed, as human as it was, was enough to reach them before they got to the clone’s car.

Without a word, Damian grabbed Jon’s arm as he turned to face him, and pushed up onto his tiptoes to lock their lips together. Jon froze under his hand before melting into the kiss and sliding his hand into Damian’s hair and his other arm around his waist for support.

Damian pulled back with Jon chasing after his lips with his eyes closed. He smiled at the sight and pecked Jon’s lips one more time before parting fully and starting his run back in the direction of his brother’s car.

“You’ll call me, right?” he heard Jon yell behind him.

Damian turned on his heel to look back, “Get your phone fixed and I will.”

Then he kept running, a wide grin on his face.

Maybe sunny days in Metropolis weren't so bad after all.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can't help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2]

In the following weeks, as he sees Jon a few more times, Gerry's hair fades out and he looks rather more 'forest nymph' than 'American Gothic'.

So it's not much of a shock when the next time Jon catches sight of Gerry striding through the library stacks, his hair has been re-coloured. This time it's a smooth buttery yellow and Jon is struck by how young the warm, bright colour makes him look.

Gerry doesn't feel young though, he feels tired and bored and wrung out, and he wishes he had never agreed to take art commissions.

"It's only the one time!" Gertrude had insisted to a very put upon Gerry, very early in the morning. "And if he puts in a good word for you in his circles, your name will really be on the map in the art world."

Gerry wasn't particularly interested in being put on any maps, or being picked apart by rich, stuck up strangers, but he had agreed to try, mostly because Gertrude had put a lot of effort into making his passion for art an actual career and he felt like he owed her.

(He forgets, frequently, just how much of a commission she takes on the sales of his paintings).

So there he was, striding around the library at 7 am and desperately looking for exactly the right reference book. Unfortunately, it has been out of print for years, and Gerry can't seem to find a copy anywhere that won't cost him half a liver. He has the money now, but he refuses to pay half a month's rent to a second-hand retailer on principle.

Jon watches him skulk around for so long, (apparently forgetting that he is, in fact, a librarian) that Sasha comes out from her desk to ask Gerry if he's looking for something specific. She's wearing her big round glasses today and even indulged herself in her favorite waistcoat to beat the Monday blues.

"Why, yes." At this, Gerry looks directly up at Jon, where he is standing and watching him from the upper balcony level. Jon's face burns, and he ducks out of sight, but not earshot. "I do actually come here to borrow books, not boys." And he smartly feeds her the name of the reference book he has been hunting for almost an hour.

Sasha giggles at his antics, "We do have a copy of that, actually, but it's very popular. There's a waitlist; also it's checked out right now."

Gerry's whole demeanor sags and he sighs in defeat. "Guess I really will just have to order it off the internet, then." He eyes the stacks of books, old and new, looking vaguely betrayed.

"No!" Sasha's exclamation takes everyone a bit aback, being that they are in a library and all. "You know, my mate has this sweet little bookstore, and he loves hunting down rare copies of older books, he might have a copy?" She wrings her hands, eyebrows raised in question.

Gerry beams down at her, causing even stoic Sasha to blush and scurry off to get a piece of paper for the address.

They're already most of the way to the front desk by the time Jon realizes just which bookstore Sasha is busy recommending to the man he is dating , and just who owns that particular establishment.

By the time he manages to get downstairs to try to deflect the situation, Gerry is out the door, nothing left but the faint scent of oil paints and leather from his jacket.

***

Tim Stoker leaves Gerry feeling faintly dazed. By the time he stumbles out of the bookstore and into the tea room, elusive book in hand, he's forgotten everything he has ever known in the face of such intense flirting. And Gerry thought he was bad.

Throughout the whole episode at the library, the walk through Chelsea, and the exchange with Tim, Gerry had never once taken a moment to consider that Sasha's friend with a bookstore and Jon's Martin with a bookstore might be the same person.

He chooses to blame the lack of sleep and general disarray that is his life for the oversight.

Which is how, 9:30 in the morning, having been awake for almost 24 hours and completely finished, Gerry walks up to Martin in his tea room and says, "I'll have whatever is pink and in that jug, please. The biggest you've got."

Martin, of course, recognized him immediately. He would have recognized Jon's gothic childhood boyfriend from his social media stalking alone, but Jon's frantic texting was also a pretty big giveaway.

Martin: Relax, I don't bite clients this early in the morning. He's in safe hands with me.

Jon: HE KNOWS THINGS ABOUT ME. Besides, who's gonna stop him from biting you?

Martin: Whatever he has to tell me can’t possibly be worse than the office gossip I heard about you before we even meet.

Jon: W H A T

Now, here Gerry is before him, and he’s quite pleased with what he sees. Even tired and vaguely dazed, his presence in the little room carries a certain energy that Martin enjoys.

"Right away. Take a seat and I'll call you with it." Martin's voice is sweet, but gentle and firm, in a comforting sort of way. Through Gerry's sleepy haze, the instruction makes perfect sense, although he has neither paid nor offered a call name.

Gerry considers taking a seat on the plush bench that occupies one wall, before deciding that he desperately needs a cigarette, and wandering outside.

Technically he is only supposed to smoke at night when he's painting and needs just the right kind of boost, but he decides to call this one since he's on a painting-based errand when he's supposed to be sleeping.

"Gerry?" He turns toward the sound of his name, to find the barista offering him a large to-go cup of what he assumes is fruit ice tea. He frowns at having his name known (his new, much-preferred name, no less) and then frowns at a blonde, bespectacled man in a tea room attached to a bookstore.

His brain finally takes a moment to function, and he puts all the pieces together in an avalanche.

"Martin?" Far from his usual self-confident tone, the single word comes out in a squeak that would make even a toddler wince.

"Yes?" Martin returns the single word in the same solidly reassuring way, and even offers a happy smile.

"I didn't... I didn't recognize you."

"Would be pretty hard for you, considering this is the first we've ever met." Martin's voice is calming in a way that eases Gerry a bit, teasing and all.

"Thank you. For the tea, I mean." Gerry closes his eyes and desperately begs his shit to pull together for him, just this one time. "It's nice to finally meet you."

His hands are fully occupied with a book, a cup of tea, and a cigarette, but Martin doesn't seem particularly bothered by the lack of a hand to shake. "It's nice to meet you too. We're giving Jon a heart attack by doing it without him."

"That is the lawful good," Gerry says, after a long drag of his smoke. "A panicked Jon is a happy Jon, after all. Whatever would he do with himself without a situation to unnecessarily complicate?"

"Yes, the man does seem to thrive on anxiety, doesn't he?" Martin asks warmly, eyes crinkling around a fond smile. "Speaking of, you seem pretty wrecked yourself. Good party, I hope."

Gerry's answering laugh has a razor edge, "Not hardly. This fucking painting I'm working on will be the death of me." Gerry lifts the reference book as proof of trauma and stabs out his cigarette viciously.

"Hmm, sounds like a pain. I hope you typically find art a more enjoyable career?" Martin asks, tilting his head inquisitively. His curly hair moves fetchingly and Gerry catches himself tracking the movement.

"Mostly, yes. Although I keep the bartending gig for variety. You'd be amazed at the sort of inspiration someone can find in the right drunk crowd." Gerry grins, thinking of all the ridiculous things he’d seen walk in and out of the bar in his run there.

"I'd be very interested to see what kind of art you can turn that into. Maybe you'd like to show me sometime?" Martin's words are open and friendly.

Gerry eyes him for a minute, hiding behind a long taste of his drink. He's trying to suss out Martin's motivations, for his kindness and general geniality. The drink is good and it tips Gerry's mood far enough back into cheerfulness that he shrugs off his considerations for the time being.

"You know what," Gerry quips back. "I think I would like to show you sometime. How 'bout tonight."

It's not a question really, with Gerry's typical force of personality behind it, and he leaves the shop with Martin holding an address in his hand and a time to drag Jon over for dinner that evening.

***

Gerry does not make a big deal of Martin coming over. He acts as if any other friend is coming over for dinner.

He tidies, a little. Lights a few candles. Wears pants. The bare minimum really.

He isn't trying to impress anyone, he tells himself sternly.

Except he is, obviously. He doesn't know Martin very well yet, but he does want to keep Jon around, and they are a packaged deal these days. Which he was happy with, truly.

In their limited interaction, Martin had been sweet and put Gerry instantly at ease. He knows, from many years of working a bar, how to spot a dipshit, and feels confident in his assessment of Martin's character.

But, it's his own character that concerns him. People don't always like Gerry past surface interactions. He can be tempestuous and moody, and catching him tired is a pretty bad idea. The combination of artist and mommy issues can be jarring.

He desperately wants those things to not bother Martin though. He wants Martin to like him, and he's not interested in putting on a show to make it happen.

It occurs to Gerry an hour before they're due that he doesn't even remotely know what takeout to order for dinner.

(He knows what Jon will eat, and he obviously knows what he likes, but what about Martin? Why didn't he ask this morning? Why didn't he ask Jon earlier?)

Gerry is just starting to really panic about all the life choices leading up to this moment, when he gets a text from an unknown number, instantly filling him with relief.

Martin: Since you're hosting this time, I'll grab the take-out. Jon says you like Thai, I'll bring that. You got the drinks covered?

Gerry: As long as you drink either coffee, vodka, or water, yes.

Martin: I'm sorry, I subsist only on the blood of virgins.

Gerry: Oh dear. I couldn't tempt you to settle for Earl Grey?

Martin: Hmmm, yes, I'll accept your offerings this time.

***

The first knock comes right on time. Gerry, dressed in his best paint-stained jeans and cherry blossom kimono, opens the door with a flourish.

Martin allows himself to be welcomed in and hands the food off to the dramatic artist, who deposits it on the table where he has already set the tea tray.

"No Jon? Not that I mind quality ‘us’ time, of course."

Martin is busy taking in the rambling studio space and barely spares the attention to respond, although he manages a blush at the flirty tone. "He's, uh, running late. Work stuff. You know Jon."

Gerry smirks at that. "I do indeed. Is it a 'stumble in at 3am' late, or 'we could probably wait to eat' late?"

"Hmmm? Oh, let's wait a bit? If you don't mind." Martin seems equally taken with his painting wall and his book wall and keeps trading his attention between the two. The paintings, being the larger attraction, eventually win, and he meanders over to study them closer.

"Do you keep all the completed paintings around?" His voice is soft and reverent, and Gerry feels a rush of pride for his work.

"For a while. I like to make sure they're in their final forms before I release them into the wild." Martin blinks big brown eyes at him, before grinning and giggling slightly.

"You're very talented. Jon said as much, showed me the pictures, but words and photos are nothing compared to seeing the real thing." Martin really regards his paintings as if they're special, and rather than the prickly feeling of appraisal he feels during gallery nights, it fills Gerry with warmth.

He turns to examine the wall himself. It's filled with an eclectic group at the moment. Large abstracts made by pouring paint and then layering designs over, three-dimensional pieces painted and then embroidered or quilled over in select places, including a particularly wild eye design. Surreal faces and scenes that seem realistic except for the wild subject matter of planets in meadows and chimeras going to battle.

"Is this what comes from your adventures in bartending?" Martin asks Gerry, turning from the wall and towards the slightly taller man.

"That, and my traumatic childhood." Gerry makes sure to laugh at the last, taking the edge off the small confession.

"Obviously." Martin offers.

"Obviously." Gerry accepts.

***

Gerry and Martin drink tea on the floor while they wait for Jon. Gerry gently prods Martin through the story of how he came to open the bookstore. The blonde man even softly confessing that he had to lie on his CV to get the librarian gig at Magnus.

"How old are you? How did you convince them you had a Master's degree?" Gerry is incredulous. Not that he doesn't think Martin could have an advanced degree. But in paranormal research? Gerry hadn't even known that was an option.

"That's the thing! I'm only 29 now . I worked there for five years!" Martin's voice pitches up in disbelief. "I'm still in shock that anyone ever brought it. Desperate times, desperate measures, you know?"

"I do, actually." Gerry shifts slightly, adjusting his balance with the long remembered urge to flee from those desperate times. He fiddles with his teacup to distract himself. He brought this particular set from a pawn shop because the filigree and florals appealed to his love of colour theory. Soft pinks and corals warm against the cool aqua background.

"Jon says you wanted to go to art school when you two were younger."

It's not a question, but merely Martin offering the same space for openness that Gerry had given him.

"I never went. After my A-levels, I had to get away, and I never really stopped moving for long enough to go to uni when I was younger. Now I'm settled and it's not important to me anymore. Besides, no one asks for a copy of my phantom degree when I sell a painting. So I'm happy with how things turned out for the most part." He stops to consider the outline of a possible past for a moment, one where he didn't have to skip college and go ten years without seeing Jon. "Besides, can you imagine a 27-year-old in art school? The young ones would sacrifice me for more creative talent."

Their eyes meet for a moment, and then they laugh easily and move on to different topics, sliding through the easy stages of getting to know each other.

***

Jon does eventually arrive, looking panicked and harried. He de-ages 10 years when he finds them laughing and relaxed instead of tense and awkward.

So, the three of them eat cold Thai take out on the floor of Gerry's loft, leaning against the perfectly good couch. They share the odd intimacy of people who have known each other for very disjointed amounts of time but like each other just the same.

[oakleaf--bearer]

this is my third ace jon fic, this time featuring a lot more projection, particularly around jon discovering what asexuality means

aka georgie tries to take the next step and jon learns a new word

also on ao3

-

Jon pressed play. He was curled up in bed, back against the headboard and cross stitch in his hands. It was a hobby he'd gotten into after his grandmother had become frustrated when he interrupted his television programs with his fidgeting. Give his hands something to do and he could pay attention for hours. Cross stitches were a pleasant distraction for his thoughts.

The theme song had just finished playing when Georgie came out of the bathroom. She blinked at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching that documentary I was telling you about." He pointed to the screen of his laptop. "Oh, did you want to watch it with me? I can start it again."

"No, that's okay." She said slowly, climbing onto her side of the bed.

He hummed and returned his attention to the screen.

"My housemates will be out all night." She whispered, curling against his side.

"You said."

"It's just us."

"Mmm."

She reached out and took the cross stitch out of his hands.

"Georgie-"

"Jon."  

"I'm watching-" He pointed to the screen. "I've been looking forward to this documentary."

She nuzzled against his neck. "It'll still be there."

"Yeah, but it's really interesting. This episode is about Dover Castle."

"Mmm. Sounds fascinating."

"It is, there's a Roman lighthouse there. The curtain wall, that's the bit around the outside, you know, the wall, it's a mile long. There was restoration work done on the keep, it's now fully decorated again. With original techniques, it was a whole thing- What are you doing?" She was rubbing gentle circles into his belly. It felt a bit like she was petting him like a cat.

Sighing, she sat back, closing his laptop and placing it on the bedside table, deaf to his sounds of protest. She clambered up, sitting herself on his lap. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"I don't know. If you wanted to cuddle, you could've said, I wouldn't have minded wearing headphones."

"Christ Jon, you're so oblivious." She lowered herself against him and Jon's brain suddenly caught up.

"Oh, oh no, I'm sorry, you wanted- Right, my mistake." He awkwardly put his hands on his hips. "I'll, you know, get to work, I suppose."

She snorted, shaking her head fondly. "Get to work?"

"No?"

"Not the usual phrase."

"What is the usual phrase?"

She leant forward and whispered something in his ear that made him blush furiously.

"Oh!" His voice came out as a squeak. "Oh? I see. Yes, okay, right."

She chuckled and leant down to kiss him, deep and slow, gently biting on his bottom lip. Jon just sort of sat there, letting her move (there was a shocking amount of moving) and trusting her to take the reigns, so to speak.

Apparently that was the wrong choice, because after a minute or so of kissing (and moving) she leant away from him. "You're still thinking about Dover Castle, aren't you?"

"No."

"Jon."

He ducked his head, a little sheepish. "I was thinking about Edinburgh Castle."

"Jon, your girlfriend is currently on top of you and you're thinking about Edinburgh Castle. Is everything okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Everything's fine! Sorry, I'm just distracted."

"Is this because I interrupted your documentary?"

"No, not that," He shook his head, then paused. "Well, sort of. I don't know."

"Come on, tell me what's happening in that big brain of yours?" She wriggled backwards until she was sat more firmly on his thighs, a safe distance from any potential distractions.

He tilted his head back, dropping it against the headboard. "I just didn't think this was going to happen tonight. I knew it would happen at some point, but I don't know. I wasn't expecting this."

"I invited you over to my flat while my housemates were out. What did you think was going to happen?"

He shrugged. "Not this, I guess."

Jon could see her mental cogs whirring away. "Jon, is this the first time anyone's done anything like this with you?"

He nodded. "Is that bad?"

"No, no, everyone takes things at their own pace, it's just-" She frowned. "I thought I was being obvious."

"You've told me extensively how oblivious I am."

"And I love you for that, but still. I thought I was being Jonathan Sims levels of obvious."

He shrugged, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "I didn't pick up on it. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, I just know to be even more obvious next time."

He blanched. "There will be a next time?"

"You don't want there to be a next time?"

"I've just... not considered it, I guess. It feels like a very big thing to discuss, and I knew it was going to come up at some point but I thought we would have more time."

"Are you nervous?"

He nodded. "Very much so. People make such a big deal out of having sex that I suppose I don't want to mess up."

"Mess up? Jon," Georgie laughed gently, stroking his face. "you won't mess up. It's not that big of a deal."

"Isn't it?"

"Not at all.

"But you like sex. People like sex. I'm going to like it, I just don't know how to-" He waved his hands. "I'm supposed to want to do this."

"Supposed to- Jon, if you don't want to then that's okay."

"But it's not fair to you for me to ask that you wait for me to get over my ridiculous hang ups."

Georgie shook her head. "Come on, let's talk about this tomorrow. Tonight is clearly not the night. Finish your documentary, I'm going to get some water."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"More than."

"But aren't you-" He searched for the right words. "Don't you want to-"

Georgie grabbed his hand. "Jon, I love you, but do not finish that sentence, okay?"

"Okay."

A few days later he was sat at her kitchen table, a mug of coffee being pushed into his hands, grimacing about the smell. "I really don't understand why people like this."

"It's coffee."

"I'm aware."

Georgie gave him one of her 'I'm plotting something, play along' looks. "Lots of people like coffee."

"I know they do, I just don't get it."

"What don't you like about it?"

"The smell? The taste? Tea is just a far superior drink on all levels."

She leant forward over the table. "So there's not a single thing you like about coffee?"

He thought. "The warmth, I guess? If nothing else it's nice to hold. Comforting."

"Right."

"Right. What's this about?"

Georgie leant down to her bag and slapped a leaflet on the kitchen table. "Here."

"What's this?" He pulled the leaflet towards himself. The bright flashy words on the front read 'So You Think You're Queer?''. "Georgie, I'm bi. You know that right? We are well past this."

"Are we?" She asked. "Are you sure?"

"Is this about the other night? I know I'm attracted to women, I promise you I'm not gay."

"It's not that. I was just reading it when I was waiting for my appointment and I came across a bit that made me think of you. Particularly about the chat we had the other night." She took it out of his hands and flipped it open to one of the pages. "Here."

He stared down at the page she was holding out. "What- what is this?"

'Asexuality', the page announced. Georgie had clearly underlined it a couple of times. The page had a definition and a small chunk of text that Jon's eyes skipped right over.

"Georgie, what is this?" Jon looked up at her.

She was staring at him with an expectant expression. "Asexuality. It's the lack of sexual attraction."

He was already shaking his head. "No, I know I am attracted to you."

"Sexually?"

He paused. He knew Georgie was pretty, that much was clear. And she was funny, she always knew how to make him laugh. He liked spending time with her. He liked calling her his girlfriend. But as he tried to picture their relationship, each logical step of it, the part with sex was just... missing, he supposed. He couldn't picture it.

"But, I like you. I know I like you."

"You can like me without it being sexual. Warmth without the smell or the taste, right?"

Jon blinked at her, then remembered the coffee in his hands. "That's a drink. Did you just compare our relationship to a drink?"

"I knew if I thrust this onto you without some sort of metaphor you'd immediately panic. Make it weird or Jonathan Sims won't focus."  

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault. But what do you think?"

He stared at the leaflet. It was a possibility. Georgie was nice, he liked dating her, but the thought of doing... that made him feel sick.

But people enjoyed sex. It seemed to be all people could talk about a lot of the time. If Jon didn't want that...

"Georgie, is there something wrong with me?"

"What?"

"Sex is normal, it's a thing normal people do. If I don't want it, surely that makes me-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Listen to me very carefully Jon." She took his hands. "Not wanting sex doesn't make you not normal. It just means you don't want sex. There isn't some preordained rule that says that sex is something everyone has to do. So you might be asexual, who cares? You're not broken. Being bi doesn't make you broken, why would this? It's just another label."

He gave her a small smile. "You're sure?"

"A thousand percent. Read the leaflet. If you agree with it, then we can do some more research. If not, then we can forget about this." She took the mug of coffee out of his hands. "Until then, let's not worry about that particular facet of a relationship."

"But what about your needs."

She gave him a look that would've been withering had she not been grinning ear to ear. "Jon, I have dated plenty of very crappy dudes who aren't nearly as considerate as you. I can look after myself. This just means I won't have to fake it."

"Fake it." He frowned. "Fake what?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! Oh good lord. Really?"

"Oh yes."

"How often?"

"More than you'd think. Some people just don't know their way around down there."

Jon felt somewhat lightheaded. "I doubt I'd be much better."

"Well like I said, we aren't gonna worry about that until you've done your homework. Don't fall into a guilt spiral over this. Remember, you're not broken, no matter how much of that you agree with." She pointed at the leaflet.

He nodded.

Over the next half an hour of reading the leaflet, then opening up his laptop and reading some more, Jon felt more seen than he had in years. A comforting sort of warmth settled into his stomach.

Asexual. Strange how one little word could make so much sense.