agentofthedepths
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“Your music," Jon says. "Would you mind turning it down?”
“My…oh!” Martin sets his mug down on some out of sight table and hurries away. Jon watches his back until that, too, is out of sight. In a moment, the music has fallen to a much more bearable level. In another, Martin has returned to the door.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, taking his drink back in hand. Shaking hand. His hand is shaking. Hard enough, in fact, Jon’s surprised its contents aren’t splashing over the sides. He’s smiling, too, a nervous little thing that Jon thinks might vanish if he makes any sudden movements. He raises his mug as though to offer it over. “Make it up to you with some cocoa?"
Or: sometimes the real Christmas is the cute neighbor Jon kissed along the way.
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Martin Blackwood has a feline-destined meetcute with the owner of a foster cat Instagram page, and it's love at purr-st sight. A series of snapshots into their lives together and Martin's gradual transformation into a cat lover (and, much less surprising, a man who falls in love with Jonathan Sims).
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“This isn’t a joke,” said Georgie. “Those woods are dangerous, and you know it.”
“You can’t honestly buy into that,” said Jon, straightening out his back to face her. “They’re just woods, it’ll be fine. I’ll take the main road back – they’re patrolled enough at night that I shouldn’t run into any – ” he punctuated his sentence with a small flutter of his hands. “I’ll be fine, honest.”
“This isn’t like your stories, Jon,” she said, her arms crossing over her chest. “You could get hurt, or worse.”
“Like cursed?”A shortcut through the Black Woods has Jon stumbling into the path of Martin, who dresses in odd clothes, and keeps strangers hobbies.
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loose threads and fraying nerves by boredshyandbi
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
28 Dec 2021
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For the first time, Jon looked down, confused, at the mound of tangled yarn beneath his fingertips. It seemed as if Martin had bundled Jon’s cup in a jumper, and not a very good jumper at that. The stitch pattern changed every few centimeters, with no apparent regularity or reason. The cosy bulged in some places around the cup’s circumference, left threadbare in others.
“I knitted it myself,” Martin explained, brightening with pride.
Or, Martin stress-knits (but isn't very good at it), and Tim and Sasha enlist Jon to clean up their mess.
Bookmarked by agentofthedepths
06 Jan 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
this fic had me wheezing and cackling on the floor. it's tender and hilarious, highly recommend
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What are you supposed to do when you get drunk and marry a stranger on your last night in Vegas?
No, really, I'm asking. For a friend.AKA, the Honey Girl AU no one asked for <3
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- English
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Bookmarked by agentofthedepths
17 Apr 2022