-I primarily write fanfiction publicly, but have experience with creative writing, letter writing, and some freelance essay writing! And I am happy to branch out, so feel free to reach out if youโd like something different!
-I charge $15 per 1K words, so let me know how long youโd like your piece to be! I may go over the agreed upon word count, unless specifically asked not to, but donโt charge extra for that.
-I am happy to write reader inserts, or OC pieces as well!
-Prepare for lots of questions! To make sure my work is perfectly suited to your liking, Iโll need as much information on what you want as possible! This will include your overall storyline, headcanons and preferences for the individual characters and their world, liked/disliked troupes, any specific scenes or scenarios youโd like included, and anything else you feel is important for me to know!
-If the requested piece contains any sensitive content (E.g. stories involving terminal illnesses) it may affect the time it takes to finish, as I prefer to do my research and make sure the subject is handled tactfully. And of course word count and other works in progress will affect the length of time, so once I have more details on your commission I can give you an accurate estimate!
- whether your commission is posted to my account, or sent to you privately is completely up to you!
The first chapter of my Skk Big Bang fic Forget Me Not is finally up!!!
Chapter title: Indefinite paid leave
Chapter wc: 2,709
Description: โAfter suffering a mysterious head injury, Dazai is left with no memory of his past or any recognition of his coworkers.
The Armed Detective Agency is confronted with the decision to either tell him about his life, or to let him restart as a normal man with a normal life.
Though a normal life may not be in reach for Dazai, memories or not.
Strange dreams plague him every night, and the sight of a whisky glass filled him with an inexplicable sadness.
A few months into navigating his new life, he meets a strange man at a grocery store. Who, despite all the yelling, Dazai felt comforted by the presence of.
(OR: Dazai forgets his past, the ADA is hiding shit, and I cannot stress enough how badly Chuuya needs a hug)โ
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
@skkbigbang-2023 my work tumbler addition(I posted it on Twitter as well and might post on tiktok) for @/r3gulus1152 on Twitter(will update with fic link!!!)
Started this Soukoku fic over a year ago and abandoned it several times before finally finishing it
Title: Stray Hearts
Words: 4,105
Description:
โDazai liked cold empty spaces like thatโฆ
He liked cold empty mornings when the whole world was asleep.
He liked coffee with loads of sugar and cream because he hated bitternessโฆ he hated dogs, and crowded spaces. He hated feeling tied down to something because the world told him he had to be.
He hated when something small threw off his whole world view and made him question thingsโฆ
All it took was one visit to a cafe at 5 AM to make him a morning person.
All it took was an empty office space to finally be bought by a short redhead with beautiful eyes to make him want to stay somewhere.โ
OR: Dazai lies about liking dogs so he can talk to Chuuya
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
This is my secret Santa fic for kuzetism! I hope you enjoy it ^^
โโโโโ
Title: Missed Signals (just talk to each other)
WC: 2374
Ship: M/M, Ranpo Edogawa / Edgar Allan Poe (Bungo Stray Dogs)
Description:
โI think Iโm in love with youโ he said it so naturally, like the words had lived on the tip of his tongue for years and only now slipped out. They hung in the air, genuine and unfiltered, and Poe himself hardly seemed to notice heโd said them at all.
For so many years, Ranpos' expert mind left absolutely no room for surprise, but this? His face dropped, and genuine shock fell over his features.
โWhat?!โ
โโโโ-
In the depths of an unrequited love, poe uses a diary to work through complex feelings. Turns out feelings canโt be kept at bay for long.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Itโs a bit old but hereโs a short Soukoku one shot I wrote about a year ago!
Title: Dazai Osamu is surprisingly stupid for a genius
Words: 1,437
Nervousness was a very rare experience for Osamu Dazai, but never an unwelcome one. Because his nervousness had only ever been caused by Chuuya.
(OR: Dazai being stupid but they're in love so it's fine)
__________________________________
Dazai sat in bed, it was 3 in the morning and all he could do was stare up at the ceiling fan to keep himself awake.
He fiddled with the length of string between his now unbandaged fingers.
He was sure that chuuya had already fallen asleep beside him. In fact he was sure of this an hour ago as well. But he needed to be certain that Chuuya was fully asleep.
Finally, he turned away from the ceiling. Just hardly able to make out chuuyas features, his only light being the dull old porch lights from outside their bedroom window. Even in the dim lighting, Chuuya was and always would be breathtaking to Dazai.
Despite the poor lighting, dazai could see the faintest trace of the freckles that dusted his cheeks. He could see the messy waves of red that so perfectly framed his face. He could see the long lashes that in just the right lighting, looked like glowing embers surrounding Chuuyaโs azurite eyes.
Even since they were teenagers, Dazai had always adored the way Chuuya looked when he fell asleep. He was just soโฆ tranquil? calm? untroubled?
He never could find the proper word to describe it.
What he could say, however, is that chuuya looked absolutely, unequivocally, beautiful. Butterflies rushed through him at the sight, a feeling still foreign to the man even after all these years.
Nervousness was a very rare experience for Osamu Dazai, but never an unwelcome one. Because his nervousness had only ever been caused by Chuuya.
He reached for chuuyas hand, pulling it close to himself and running his slender fingers over chuuyas scarred knuckles.
โHow beautifulโฆโ
Dazai loved everything about the man in front of him. Every little scar, every freckle, every out of place hair, anything that made chuuya, chuuya.
He pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's hand.
As anxious as he felt, he was confident that Chuuya wouldnโt wake up. That man could sleep through a hurricane.
He took one more deep breath, bringing the string to chuuyas finger and remembering what Kunikida had told him.
โIf you want to get his ring size just tie some string around his finger and give it to the jeweler, they should be able to measure it for you.โ
Itโs just tying a string, easy as that. As long as chuuya didnโt move in his sleep. Or worseโฆ wake up. Dazai had always been clever with his hands though, so itโs nothing to worry about! right?โ
He wrapped the string around chuuyas finger. Double knotting it just to be safe.
He let out the breath he didnโt realize heโd been holding. โYes! I got it! Worlds best boyfriend award goes to the one and only Dazai Osa- oh shitโฆโ
He tugged on the string, trying to pull it off of Chuuyaโs finger.
โWellโฆ thatโs less than ideal.โ
He tried rolling the string off instead but it didnโt budge. And as clever as dazai was with his hands, even he couldnโt untie a knot so small.
The manโs hands flew to cover his face. How the hell had he managed to completely fuck up a task so simple?!
Dazai spent a few more minutes trying to get the floss off before finally resigning to his fate. He gently shook chuuya awake, struggling not to stare in awe at chuuyas mild annoyance.
โWhy the hell did you wake me up?โ Chuuyas voice sounded gravelly, almost distracting enough for dazai to completely forget about his current objective.
โUhโฆ I need your help.โ
Chuuya clearly grew concerned, though the changes in his face and tone were so subtle nobody but dazai would have picked them up.
โWhat with?โ
โUhโฆ thereโs a string stuck to your hand, I canโt get it offโฆโ
Chuuya stared at dazai in silence for a moment. Finally looking down to see the string on his finger. His eyes flickered back and fourth, between dazai and the string. Eventually settling on dazai again.
โWhyโฆ did you tie a string to me?โ
โUhmโฆ. Itโs uhโฆ itโs a prank! Obviously! You got pranked so hard! Hehโฆ.โ
Dazais lie was pitiful, but chuuyas half awake brain seemed to accept it.
โThatโsโฆ such a stupid prank.โ
โYeah, yeah, whatever! Just help me get it off!โ
Chuuya let out a long sigh, dropping his head back onto his pillow. โJust go get me some scissors, Iโll cut it off.โ
โNo!โ
Chuuyas head shot back up to look at dazai โhuh?โ
โUhโฆ we canโt cut it off.โ
โAnd why not.โ
โBecause I still need your ring size.โ
โBecause itโs umโฆ itโs a really special string! We canโt cut it!โ
โWhy would you use special string for a prank?!โ
โI didnโt say it was a well thought out prank!โ
Chuuya finally sat up in bed, letting out a yawn. โAlright fine, how about oil, we can slip it off with that right?โ
Dazai smiled, leaning forward to give Chuuya a quick kiss. โYouโre a genius!โ
Chuuya smiled back at the man, his adoration for dazai just hardly outweighing his annoyance. โYeah, yeah. Just shut up and get this thing off me.โ
Dazai grabbed chuuyas hand, dragging him along to the kitchen and drenching his hand in oil. It took a few minutes, but dazai finally managed to slip the string off of chuuyas finger.
โUghโฆ now my hands are all oily.โ
Dazai smirked โmine too! We match~โ he cooed.
โYouโre an idiot.โ
โAnd you love it!โ
The men washed the remaining oil off of their hands and dazai set the string on his bedside table contently.
โMission achieved! Sorta!โ
Dazai wrapped his arms around chuuya, peppering feather light kisses across the freckles on his cheeks. โI love you and your stupid tacky hats.โ
Chuuya chuckled, despite the less-than-rare nature of dazais affection, It always brought a smile to his face. He brushed his hand across dazais cheek, returning the gesture with a kiss to the tip of dazais nose. โI love you too, moron.โ
Dazai finally found himself feeling calm again, letting himself relax in chuuyas grasp.
โOh, and Osamu?โ
โYeah Chuuuuya~?โ
โYou know you could have just asked for my ring size?โ
Dazai found himself speechless. The calm heโd felt only moments ago rushing away once again, replaced by the familiar feeling of butterflies.
Nervousness was a very rare experience for Osamu Dazai, but Chuuya Nakahara was an expert at breaking his composure.
โYou knew?โ
Chuuya gave dazai a small smile, gazing at him with a soft look only dazai would ever get to see.
โLove, you tied a string around my finger in the middle of the night. That would be a stupid prank even for you.โ
Dazais brow furrowed and he pulled away from chuuya. โChuuyas so mean~ I wonโt propose if he keeps talking like this.โ
โOh donโt get all pouty on me.โ Chuuya chuckled gently holding dazais hand again.
โYouโll just have to propose to me if you want to get married. Chuuya, meet the consequences of your actions.โ Dazai tried and failed to hold a straight face while he talked.
โWell, If I have to.โ Chuuya rolled over to reach into his nightstand, pulling out a small box.
โYโknow I was hoping to do this after a romantic date but if youโre gonna be dramatic about itโฆโ Chuuya opened the box to show a ruby engagement ring, metallic accents that almost looked like his corruption.
โYouโreโฆ youโฆ how?!โ
โIโm much sneakier than you, idiot.โ Chuuya teased, slipping the ring onto his finger.
โI didnโt even say yes, youโre getting presumptuous chuuya~โ dazai smiled, admiring the ring on his hand.
โYeah, believe it or not Iโve got a bit of a hunch that you wanted to marry me.โ
โWhat gave it away? I thought I was playing hard to get.โ
Chuuya chuckled, giving dazais hand a slight squeeze. โNow will you accept my proposal so we can sleep?โ
โHuh?! No!โ
โWhat?โ
โI mean yes! To the proposal. But no we canโt go to sleep! We need champagne! We just got engaged we have to celebrate!โ
Dazai tried to get out of bed but was immediately pulled back down, chuuyas arms wrapping around him. โItโs 3 in the morning, how about we sleep now, and invite people over tomorrow to celebrate?โ Chuuya pressed a kiss to dazais temple, running his thumb over dazais ring.
As much as dazai would love to protest, he couldnโt help but melt in chuuyas arms. โYeah fine, Iโm still getting you a ring by the way, you donโt get to win the engagment.โ
โThatโs alright, I still won you.โ Chuuya mumbled, already starting to doze off.
This is the only Fyolai fic Iโve ever written but Iโd love to write more for them
Title: the eccentricities of flirting with a customer
Words: 1,713
Nikolai Gogol's pathetic attempt to win over his reserved customer.
_____________________________________
In his many years of writing, fyodor found that he got the best work done in the quaint cafe down the street from his apartment. The place was small and rather quiet, and unlike his own apartment, there were no loud neighbors to distract him from his work.
It held the constant scent of fresh baked pastries and coffee, and the only distraction to be seen was the oddly dressed barista who always seemed ecstatic that fyodor had come back once again.
The man had long white hair, tied into a braid behind him. With some shorter pieces in the front to frame his face.
One eye was bright green, the other a pale gray, with a scar across it. Fyodor found himself wondering how exactly that scar was created. And his clothing, despite being mostly black and white, had red accents mixed in which fyodor took to be his favorite color.
From time to time, fyodor felt the manโs eyes on him. The place never seemed to have many customers, so he assumed there wasnโt much else to do besides check up on whoever came in.
The interesting thing about the barista, was that he never seemed to mind being caught staring.
Fyodor would occasionally feel those eyes burning into him. He'd look up, expecting to see the manโs mismatched eyes darting away, for him to pretend to be working instead of watching.
Rather, the small, oblivious smile that always seemed to rest on his face just widened and he kept those eyes trained on fyodor.
Most might find this behavior disconcerting, but fyodor found it interesting. He couldnโt help but smile to himself at the eccentricity of the man behind the counter. The Baristas stare was in no way creepy or uncomfortable. It didnโt feel like the gaze of a person undressing another with their eyes.
Rather, it was that of someone who found the actions of the other interesting, it was simply observation in its purest form. And that burning gaze that followed him so often served as a comfort in some sense. Like no matter how much changed in fyodor's own life, he would still have that one constant of those pretty eyes observing his every move.
The barista of course, had his own reasons for this watching.
Nikolai had worked in this coffee shop for quite a while, generally with little to no care about the patrons of the place
It was just a good way to make some money.
That is, until the reserved author he now knew to be named Fyodor began visiting regularly.
The man had a peculiar air about him, which was only partly on account of his appearance. He had shoulder length black hair which fell into his face, clearly often enough he didnโt care much to fix it. His eyes were an enchantingly deep shade of purple, one that Nikolai got quite lost in. And he wore simple clothing, black slacks and a white button down which draped over his thin frame.
He seemed tense simply being around other people, and always made sure to sit in the furthest corner of the cafe. Despite the fact that the cafe had more than enough seating everywhere else, and rarely had other patrons to take them up.
Nikolai figured he chose that seat specifically, because it had the windows, doors, and barista all in sight. And he was sure to never sit in the seat directly against the wall, but one over, as it made getting in and out quicker.
The barista never could help himself when it came to socializing with the unsocial. It was, more than anything, the need to know what it would take to win them over. Unfortunately, fyodor had made this exceptionally difficult for him.
He had no interest in small talk, usually ignoring Nikolaiโs feeble attempts to ask about his day. He sat far from Nikolai, and occasionally looked up at him from behind his laptop with those sharp eyes, like he could see right through Nikolaiโs schemes, like he could read his thoughts. Maybe he could, maybe thatโs why after all this time coming to the cafe, fyodor never once looked at the cup in front of him.
The cup that every day, Nikolai wrote his phone number on. Often along with a small doodle of some sort, Todays was of a small cat, with a Cheshire grin, drawn in a bright pink marker Nikolai bought with only the hope it would draw the others eye.
Yet every day, fyodor would take the coffee from him, sit down across the room, and stare at that laptop of his.
He only ever drank about half of it, seemingly getting too caught up in whatever he was writing to finish it.
Nikolai once tried to ask what he wrote, but the man gave him a sour look and didnโt answer.
In fact, in all this time, the only thing fyodor had ever said to him was โa small black coffee, please and thank you.โ
That was it.
Yet Nikolai felt, for the most part, content with this routine of theirs. Fyodor would come in, and order a small black coffee. Nikolai would try his best to start a conversation, or even make a stupid joke in hopes that fyodor would laughโฆ
He never laughed.
But that was alright, Nikolai didnโt mind.
Then fyodor would take his coffee, sit far away, and spare Nikolai an occasional glance with those heart stopping eyes.
And Nikolai would wait, in hopes that his strange new companion would finally notice what he wrote on the cup.
He never noticed.
This, Nikolai did seem to mind as time went on.
So, he thought up a plan. One that he thought himself a genius for. The next time fyodor came in, he gave him the wrong drink. He figured that fyodor would take a sip, notice the difference, and finally look at the cup.
However, Nikolai miscalculated something in his plan. The slight affection that fyodor had grown to hold for the odd, foolish, barista who always tried to make him laugh, and stared at him like he was the first person heโd seen in years.
Fyodor took a sip from the overly sweet coffee he had been given in place of the bitter drink heโd become used to. He scowled slightly at the taste, and his eyes shifted off of his computer screen. Not to the cup, and instead to the barista. He noticed the oblivious smile on the man's face, and looked back down to his computer. And maybe it was just the poor cafe lighting, or the reflection of the screens light on his face.
But Nikolai could have sworn there was a small hint of pink on the pale manโs skin. A trick of the eye, he could only assume.
Fyodor didnโt look at the cup, though he did take another sip. Trying his best not to grimace at the taste. Nikolai watched on in pure confusion. As the man who had so pointedly ignored him for so long, for the first time, finished the drink he clearly disliked.
Fyodor then stood up, offered Nikolai a polite smile, and left without a word.
Nikolai let out a loud sigh as soon as the door closed, leaning against the wall and letting himself sink down onto the ground.
โIs he oblivious or just stupid?โ
Despite his frustration, Nikolai couldnโt help the smile that crossed his lips, nor the heat that burned at his face, when fyodor came to mind. He couldnโt help but wonder if fyodor even bothered to learn his name, and truthfully he didnโt care all that much. Because getting even a tiny smile out of that sheltered new friend of his was an achievement.
Friendโฆ that probably isnโt the right word.
What they had could never be described as a friendshipโฆ but there was something there.
Regardless, weeks passed and their routine has returned to normal. Nikolai decided not to change Fyodor's drink again, as fascinating as it was to watch the man drink something he hated.
But once again, Nikolai found himself getting bored of their routine. Wanting quite desperately for Fyodor to just look at the cup. At this point he didnโt care much whether fyodor completely ignored his advances, however he at least wanted some sort of attention from the man. Anything to tell him fyodor knew about the writing on his cup.
So, finally reaching his wits end, Nikolai decided on a less subtle course of action to demand a response. Nikolai walked up to the table, and placed a sticky note right onto the face of Fyodor's laptop. Receiving a confused and rather annoyed look from the man.
โI have written my number on your cup every day since you started coming here. Not once have you even glanced at it.โ
Nikolai huffed, letting his frustration get the better of him to a man who he hardly knew. But as strange as this approach was, it finally seemed to all click in fyodor's mind. His eyes finally flickered to his cup, and scanned over the numbers, as well as the small drawing of a mouse which sat next to them.
Then, he looked at the note placed on a laptop which he had previously been too shocked to pay any real attention to. It read โgo on a date with me.โ In a large font, and chicken scratch handwriting.
Without a word, fyodor pushed his laptop in front of the seat closer to the wall, and moved to the further seat.
For a moment, Nikolai thought this was Fyodor's silent way of rejecting his offer, which in retrospect seemed more like a demand. However fyodor looked back up to the man and with the slight tilt of his head, for the first time, spoke something other than his order.
โWell, are you going to sit?โ Flicking his eyes from Nikolai, to the empty chair he had previously sat in, and back to Nikolai. And once again, Nikolai could swear that in the poor lighting of the coffee shops Fyodor's face looked slightly red. Though he was sure he looked about the same, as he sat next to the man heโd been observing for so long.
Set in season 1 but there are small references to later seasons (no major spoilers)
Jon walks in on Martin having a panic attack and deals with it very well and is not at all awkward about the whole thing because heโs sooo good at feelings
_____________________________________
Jon stared at the screen in front of him, scanning over the many, many, words in the excruciatingly long email Elias had sent him.
Something about a noise complaint from the non archive employees, or maybe a noise complaint about the non archive employees?
Truthfully, he didnโt process a single word of it.
His leg tapped rapidly against the concrete floor, in unison with his hand, clicking the pen that had run out of ink when he was still in college. He kept it around regardless, mostly to click mindlessly, and he had long since tuned out the sound it made.
To put it simply, Jon was far in over his head.
โTake the promotionโ Heโd thought
โItโll be fun!โ Heโd thought
He thought wrong.
It was bad enough that Jane Prentiss decided to make her dramatic reappearance, but of course it had to be in the form of an attack on one of his employees.
Because obviously a new job he was entirely unprepared for wasnโt enough stress! Why not throw a whole pile of worms on top?
Jon had begun to think that this was all just some horribly elaborate hazing ritual for the new archivist. Did Gertrude have to deal with worms too?!
Of course not, Jon had only seen the woman a few times but he was rather sure a gust of wind would be enough to knock her down. She was short and frail, (not that Jon was any different)
and as Tim described her โmore cardigan than womanโ
Sure, she was stubborn. But there was nothing that could convince Jon that the nutty old bat had ever actually dealt with an entity firsthand!
It had all just become a bit much, and Jon found it harder and harder to focus.
With Martin living in the archives, Jane lurking around somewhere (and sending the occasional ominous text message from martins phone), parasitic worms infesting the building, and of course to top it all off, Jon had to keep his assistantsโ living situation hidden from Elias! Who would almost certainly disapprove of the whole affair. Even Jon wasnโt sure it was the best idea, given it probably broke several institute codes.
Jon leaned back in his chair, finally straightening his god awful posture. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sound that was somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a pained groan.
He turned his attention back to his computer, closing the half-read email.
โIt can wait until tomorrowโ he reasoned. โNot like I can focus on it in this state.โ
He tried to ignore the weight that seemed to pull his eyes shut, and the almost silent clock on the wall that reminded him of how unreasonably late he had stayed.
That had always been a flaw of Jonโs, there would always be one or two more things left to finish before he went home, and those one or two things split into five or six. And the next thing he knew he was waking up at his desk in the middle of the night, with the imprint of a pen on the side of his face as evidence of his terrible self preservation skills.
He stood from his chair, decidedly ignoring the loud cracks that came of every joint in his body.
โI suppose it wouldnโt hurt to check on Martin before I leave. Make sure he hasnโt burnt down my archive yet.โ
He rolled his eyes at the thought of Martin scrambling to put out a fire, forgetting, in the panic, about the loads of Co2 extinguishers kept in the archive.
Not that it would be completely unreasonable, even Jon found himself forgetting that fire extinguishers can be used for more than killing worms. But he couldnโt help the slight chuckle that left him at the thought of Martin throwing his tea at a fire before thinking to use an extinguisher.
Jon placed a hand on the door to the archive room, but froze when he heard a noise from inside.
A gasp?
Oh godโฆ
Jonโs amusement at the idea of a fire quickly turned to genuine dread. He pushed open the door, already prepared to reprimand Martin for having a flame in his archives. But was met with anโฆ unexpected sight.
Martin was sat in the furthest corner from the door, his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His face, previously buried in his knees, was now staring up at Jon in a mix of panic and embarrassment. His eyes were red and cheeks tear-stained.
He didnโt say a word, his breathing still ragged and uncontrolled. But that look on his face was enough for Jon to understand the situation, staring up at him like heโd seen a ghost.
Any words that came to mind were lost just as quickly.
โOh-โ Jon froze, staring at his assistant for what felt like far too long. Before slowly, uncomfortably, and without breaking eye contact, backed out of the room. โI umโฆIโm sorry.โ He spoke, his usual bluntness prevalent even now, as he slowly closed the door in front of him.
Jon leaned his head against the now closed door, cringing at his own discomfort.
Martin just stared at the door, unsure what to do afterโฆ that.
It wasnโt like panic attacks were completely new to him, but until now heโd managed to keep them outside of work. Away from Jon, who already disliked him at the best of times.
Godโฆ of course it had to be Jon who walked in! At least if it had been Tim or Sasha he could have been saved the pure humiliation!
It wasnโt like Martin ever had a chance in hell with Jon anyways, but he would have at least liked to keep a shred of his dignity!
What would Jon think of him after this? Did he consider panic attacks a fireable offense? Of course not! Jon isnโt completely emotionlessโฆ right?
Martin found himself spiraling once again. Now due to the thought of what he would say next time he saw Jon, rather than his experience with Jane prentiss.
He bit down on his lower lip, one of the more painful anxious habits heโd picked up in his youth. Images flashed through his mind of any and every potential scenario that could arise when he saw Jon again.
But before he could properly freak out, the door to the archive creaked open again, and Jon stood in the doorway.
This time, however, he walked in. all the way over to Martin in fact, and sat down beside him.
โJon, I- I umโ
โItโs fine.โ He cut Martin off โyou donโt have to explain yourself, I understand.โ
โAlright.โ
Martins reply was soft, it made him feel even more pathetic than he already did.
โHere.โ Jon placed two items between them.
One was a cup of tea, the other was a bag ofโฆ sour candy?
โOh, uh thankโฆ you?โ Martin was a bit confused, but appreciated Jonโs strange attempt at comfort regardless.
Jon let out a sigh, he kept his eyes trained on the floor, trying to save Martin the embarrassment. Or maybe just to save himself the discomfortโฆ
โsour candy helps with panic attacks. I read this article the other day. itโs quite interesting actually, Iโll send it to you. Sour candy shocks the senses and knocks you out of the fight, flight, or freeze state. Interestingly, mint has a similar effect. I would recommend reading up on it if you have the chance. It would probably be good to keep mints or gum on hand, just in case.โ
Jon stopped speaking, realizing now that he was infodumping on his coworker In the middle of a breakdown.
โI uh, I thought they might help.โ
Jon finally looked back to martin, who stared at him like a deer in headlights.
It took a moment for martin to process that Jon had finished speaking, but when he did he gave the man a small smile.
โThank you, Jon. Really, I appreciate this.โ
Martin's breathing had returned to normal now, and Jonโs presence had already served to ground him, but he took a candy anyways.
Then, a sip of the tea. The warmth seeped through the cup into his hands, further solidifying the feeling that he was safe hereโฆ with Jon.
He smiled fondly at the mug in his hands, he knew Jon probably just grabbed the closest to the front of the cabinet, but the thought of him picking out martin's favorite mug intentionally warmed him more than the drink.
Martin didnโt often go for floral teas, but this was from Jon, so for all he cared it could be oolong and heโd still treasure every sip.
โLavender?โ He mused
โYes. Lavender helps to regulate the nervous system.โ
Martin gave a soft chuckle at Jonโs usual bluntness โno, I know that. I just didnโt realize we had any.โ
โAh, we donโt. I keep some in my office.โ
Martin gave a small hum in response, only now considering it a bit odd Jon had sour candy and lavender tea in his office. Or that he just had this knowledge of panic attacks on hand.
โJonโฆ do you-โ he cut himself off, trying to find a way to phrase his question that wouldnโt be overly intrusive.
Jon was still his boss.
Though he had probably broken the boarders of boss/employee decorum when he started living in the workplace.
โHm?โ
โHave youโฆ been having panic attacks?โ Martin asked, his tone laced with concern.
Jon sighed softly, something that almost seemed like a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
โDo you never worry about yourself?โ
Martin started to speak, but realized he had no defense against the accusation.
โAlright yes, point taken.โ
He should probably drop it, but Martin didnโt like the idea of Jon suffering alone.
โStill though, have you?โ
Jon let out a soft nose exhale, the closest thing to a laugh martin had ever heard from Jon. โYes, from time to time. but thatโs nothing you need to worry yourself over.โ
โFine, please take care of yourself though?โ
โOnly if you can promise the same.โ
Jon smiled, it was small, but still there. And more importantly, it actually seemed genuine. And it was one of the most beautiful things Martin had ever seen. He could have sworn his heart skipped a beat, or five.
It wasnโt like the man never smiled, but more often than not it was the forced kind that never reached his eyes, the smile he used for group pictures and conversations with Elias.
But this? This smile was one of fondness, it seemed. But who knows, maybe Martin was just reading too far into things again, he did have that habit when it came to Jon.
He stared at the other man, ever-present infatuation knocking at his heart as he tried his best to memorize the sight, quickly as he could. assuming, rightfully, that Jon wouldnโt let a soft moment last long, because of course he couldnโt.
Jon placed a hand in front of his face and cleared his throat.
โItโs late, I should probably go home. Are youโฆ going to be alright?โ
Martin smiled at Jon, his eyes filled with pure adoration. โOf course, Iโll be fine. Get home safe, Jon.โ
โWill do. Iโll see you tomorrow Martin.โ
Jon stood from his place next to Martin, heading to the door.
โSee you tomorrow.โ
โOh- Umโฆ Iโll send you the article, i-it really is interesting, I promise.โ
โLooking forward to it. Goodnight, Jon.โ
โGoodnight, Martin.โ
Martin had heard his name from the other man countless times, but he had never heard it spoken so softly. Like the words might break if said with any more force.
The sound of it was divine, ringing through martins mind like a melody.
The door clicked shut, and Martin raised the mug once more to his face, and hoped for the life of him that Jon hadnโt noticed the pink hue that dusted his cheeks.
The Magnus Archives has ruined my ability to be scared because Iโll be afraid for a second then just think about how stupid it is that Iโm feeding the vast
