#Tim reluctantly telling him everything and asking him to reciprocate and tell him about the injuries Tim couldn't feel after the rejection

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Imagine it's the option where things inside Amity get retconned but everything outside stays as it was. So now Danny has a one-sided soul bond where he can feel everything Tim's feeling again (physical and emotional) but Tim can't feel anything about Danny. Tim's bond is still broken. Danny realizes this and decides to keep it, the whole reason he broke it was to spare Tim the pain but Danny can handle Tim's, it was never about protecting himself.

Tim does not know. Tim, who has been acting more reckless and going through things (depending on how you time it, it could go anywhere from Titans tower to his red robin run or anything in between, like Damian's assassination attempts or all the grief about losing everyone close to him). Tim, who no longer has to be careful with his injuries because no one but him is going to feel them. Tim, who doesn't go as far as causing himself the pain but maybe doesn't do as much to avoid it because it's the only thing that makes him feel like the bond isn't gone. He knows it's not healthy to hold onto something like that but everything is falling apart and everyone else has already left him so what else is he supposed to do?

Now Danny is getting more and more worried about his soulmate while also dealing with bigger and bigger threats and wondering if maybe he made a mistake by cutting the connection. Asking himself if he's the reason his soulmate is in pain 99% of the time and only half of it is physical. Either way, he's not rejecting the bond again, no matter how intense the pain and injuries get.

Okay, so, Brain Dead rejected soulmate AU but Danny is the one who rejected Tim.

Let's say in this world that there are many types of soul bonds.

You've got your standard and fairly common First Words and Skin Art.

Then you've got less common things like Shared Dreams, Colorblind Until You Meet, and Red String.

And then you've got the very rare Telepathic Bond and Empathic Bond.

Finally, there's the ultra rare, one in a million, Shared Pain* soul bonds. It helps that the flip side of this particular bond means Shared Comforts**, but still, it is not the kind of bond people hope for.

Naturally, Fenton luck dictates that this is what Danny (and by extension, his soulmate) gets stuck with.

And at first it's fine. Like, bumps and scrapes happen but it's no big deal. Then the bullying starts and Danny feels a bit guilty that his soulmate has to deal with it by proxy.

But, Danny learns how to minimize damage. And the way Danny can feel his soulmate gentle nursing the pains when he can't, indulging in extra comforts for the both of them, makes Danny think that maybe it's okay.

After all, if it was really to much, Danny's soulmate would have already rejected him.

And when Danny's soulmate starts getting a bit more roughed up when they're 13, naturally Danny returns the favor; never wishing to sever the bond, only wishing he could prevent the pain all together.

Then Danny turns 14.

Then Danny dies. But survives.

He cries that night, his soulmate desperately trying to push comfort through their bond while all Danny can think about is how he shouldn't have gone in that portal. He shouldn't have been so reckless. He should have PROTECTED them.

And to top it all off, suddenly he's not just Dash's personal punching bag. No, there's a whole host of ghostly rogues that like to come bother Danny. And maybe it was still okay when it was just ectopusses or Lunch Lady or Boxy.

But as more and more powerful ghosts come through, as the fights get harder and Danny takes more damage, the guilt over what he's subjecting his soulmate to eats at him.

And after Danny meets Vlad, the first enemy he faces that he really can't beat, he makes the decision. This isn't going to end. These fights, these pains...

Someday he's going to face an enemy that is going to grind him into the dirt. That's going to kill him again, probably slowly and unpleasantly, and Danny already subjected his soulmate to one death, he refuses to put him through another.

So Danny mentally reaches deep inside himself, real hands placing themselves above his heart.

Feeling around for the source of that gentle warmth his soulmate is pushing through their bond.

He finds it, grasping with imaginary hands while his real ones clench the fabric of his shirt.

Feels the way the warmth stutters. The sharp jolt of pain on his elbow as his soulmate probably knocks it when he realizes what Danny is doing.

Danny pays it no mind. He holds the bond between then tightly; tears welling up in his eyes as phantom arms wrap around himself, his soulmate's desperate plea for Danny not to do what he's about to.

Danny yanks, physical hands all but tearing the shirt off his chest as mental ones rip the bond from his and his soulmate's hearts.

The last pain they'll ever share comes crashing into him, the distinct Rejection scar crackling across his chest not unlike the Lichtenburg on his arm.

It hurts, but less than dying had.

Then the pain is gone. Or rather, that pain is gone.

The dull aches from the fight with Plasmius throb and a part Danny finds himself missing the soothing comforts his soulmate had provided him, emptiness filling the space they used to occupy.

But another part of Danny, the part that is more ghost than human, swells with pride knowing he has protected his soulmate from Danny's own inevitable fate.

As Danny inspects Rejection spidering out from his heart, a strange hollow giddiness settles in his stomach. It makes him giggle.

His brain notes that if Dash ever sees this, he'll assume he finally succeeded in making Danny's soulmate reject him.

Danny giggles harder.

Not that Danny will correct him. Or his friends or his sister when they find out for that matter. They worry enough about him as is. They don't need to know just how far Danny is willing to go to protect the people he loves.

He's stifling laughter now, trying not to wake the neighbors.

Sitting alone on the roof of Fentonworks at 3 in the morning, Danny laughs until he sobs, then laughs and sobs until he can't breathe, then laughs and sobs and struggles to breathe until a light blue mist comes gasping past he lips.

His hysterics taper of and he lets the now familiar cold feeling of his ghost form spread across his body, pausing only for a second when he notices the new spiderwebbing across the chest of his hazmat suit, just a shade darker than the rest of the black material.

Oh well. It's not too noticeable and if some sees it he can just pretend it was always there. Just like he's going to pretend the emptiness in his heart was always there. Where it belongs.

~~~

Tim is at the Bat Computer desperately searching for any kind of clue who and where his soulmate is.

Of course, Tim had searched before, been searching basically since grade school when it became clear his soulmate was dealing with either bullying or an abusive home.

But Tim's efforts had tripled lately. Ever since that fateful day 4 months ago when he'd practically had a seizure in the middle of family dinner.

It had felt like he was dying, the echos of electric shocks up his arm and into his heart coming through his soul bonds. Followed soon after by the sense of something terrifying and foreign opening up in his chest and forcing its way into every molecule of his body.

Tim is pretty sure he screamed.

It was several minutes before the sensations ended and a strange coldness filled his being. For a minute, Tim was terrified his soulmate had died, until the cold retreated to a place just beside his heart and phantom hands could be felt trying to comfort and soothe.

At the time, Tim thought that would be that. Some kind of terrible accident. A story his soulmate would tell him when they finally found each other.

But that wasn't that.

It started with that strange coldness never leaving the space beside his heart. Then sometimes the coldness would spread, filling his whole body for brief periods of time. Then those periods of time started to come with some kind of pain. A scrape, a bruise, sore muscles.

The kind of injuries Tim got on patrol as Robin.

Which was something he'd not been allowed to do near as much since the aftermath of that dinner when Bruce had learned what kind soul bond Tim had.

"Tim, you can't keep throwing yourself into the line of fire. It's bad enough when you get hurt, but for your soulmate to have to suffer too?"

Stupid Bruce and his stupid rules. Tim and his soulmate had been fine before, thank you very much. And it wasn't Robin that got struck by lightning or something. Tim really isn't sure what kind of accident would result in the things he had felt that night, but electrocution is at least part of it.

But since then, Tim's soulmate had been getting more and more injuries at any and all hours of the day. If Tim had been worried before distressed now. Something had happened and now Tim's soulmate who was already dealing with something before now seemed to be in constant danger. Tim needs to find them, needs to help them, make them safe.

He doesn't look, doesn't take his eyes off the news articles on the screen as a presence appears behind him. No 2 presences. And the elevator dings bringing a third. But Tim keeps scanning articles, looking for some clue about a kid getting electrocuted and a town gaining a young vigilante shortly after.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, gravelly voice speaking in gentle tones. "It's almost 4am son." Tim doesn't respond. Bruce sighs and spins the chair around. Dick and Alfred are both there looking concerned and stern respectively. "It's bed time."

"My soulmate is in trouble. They're not safe. I need to find them. And you're worried about my bed time?"

"You need some sleep, Master Tim. You won't know you've found anything if you're to tired to see straight." Bruce nods and Dick puts on his best big brother face.

"Get some rest, Tim. We can keep looking later."

Tim opens his mouth to argue, but pauses at the strange tugging sensation in his heart. He briefly wonders what trouble his soulmate is in now before he realizes what the almost feeling of hands on his soul bond means.

He gasps and jerks in the chair, knocking his elbow on the arm rest and the warm blanket he'd cocooned himself in to send comfort back to his soulmate off his shoulders.

Even Alfred's expression turns concerned when Tim wraps his arms around himself, trying to convey along the soul bond his plea for his soul mate not to do this.

"Tim?" Tim isn't sure which family member speaks. Can't focus on it as his soulmate yanks on the bond, ripping it and the strange comfortable coldness out.

Tim cries out, three sets of hands immediately moving in to comfort him. Sight and sound turn to static as Rejection burns across his chest not unlike the electrocution had crawled up his arm four months ago.

Then the pain vanishes.

And Tim looks up at Bruce, knows he's got tears rolling down his face, searching pitifully for a father's comfort.

"They Rejected me."

Bruce startles, but quickly stoops down to wrap Tim in a hug and Dick lays a comforting hand on Tim's head and Alfred retreats probably to make something comforting and Tim cries at the emptiness where the bond should be and the now too warm spot beside his heart.

And yet, deep in his mind where gears are still turning, Tim resolves to still find his soulmate, even without the bond, if only to ask them why.

.

This was supposed to be a prompt, maybe a premise, but I got carried away.

So now y'all can have this piece of pain I have no intention of continuing. Enjoy!

And since I don't plan on continuing, if some else wants to run with it, have at and have fun!

*Shared Pain in this AU just means soulmates feel the pain, not that they recieve the injuries. So if a soulmate breaks an arm, the other will feel the break, but their arm will be physically fine.

**Shared Comforts meaning that soulmates also share good feelings. So if one person is all wrapped up comfy cozy in a nice thick blanket, the other also feels that warmth. But like with the pain, it's a phantom feeling. Won't keep the soulmate not bundled up from hypothermia.

[eldritchteaparty]

Chapters: 12/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Jon and Martin talk things out after their encounter with Annabelle at dinner.

Chapter 12 of my post-canon fix-it is up!

Read above at AO3 or here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Martin finally pulled his hand away. “We should pay.”

“I did.”

“Oh.” He still couldn’t bring himself to look at Jon. “I didn’t see.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.” It seemed like the right thing to say before he did, but afterward it hung awkwardly between them.

“Do you…” Jon cleared his throat. “Do you want to leave?”

“Sure.” He didn’t want to stay.

Now that it was later in the evening, it was cool enough outside that he didn’t feel terrible for jamming his hands into his pockets as they walked to the tube station. He took the window seat on the train, staring out into the darkness of the tunnel as if he were watching scenery go by. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk, or even that he was avoiding an argument; after all, arguing seemed to be one of the few ways that he and Jon actually managed to communicate with each other. It was that he still didn’t know what to say.

Jon surprised him by speaking first.

“You’re angry.”

“Yeah. I’m angry,” he answered.

“You have every right to be.”

“I mean—I’m not angry at you.” He finally looked at Jon, who was eyeing him with skepticism. “All right, I’m not just angry at you. I’m angry at the whole situation. I’m angry at her. And I’m—I’m angry at me.”

Jon nodded.

“And I feel stupid.”

“You’re not—”

“I am. And I’m sad,” he added. “I’m sad I can’t fix this.”

“It’s not your job to fix it.”

“It’s not yours, either. But that doesn’t seem to make a difference.”

Jon didn’t answer him, and he went back to looking out the window. They didn’t exchange any more words until they were almost at the front door of the flat, where Martin finally knew what he wanted to ask first.

“When did it happen? When did you—know it was back? Was it after Hill Top Road?”

Jon unlocked the door and opened it, waiting for Martin to go in before he answered him.

“It was. But not right away—it was that next week. I don’t even know if that had anything to do with it.”

“Ok. Ok. So that next weekend, when—and that haircut, and this—this stupid date—” Jon recoiled. “All of it, it’s all been, what—a distraction?”

“What?” Jon started to step toward him, then stopped. “No—no, it wasn’t.”

Martin drew in a breath and swallowed. “But it wasn’t real.”

“It was.” There was a kind of desperation in Jon’s face that Martin hadn’t seen for a while—like he had something to prove. “It’s what I could give. I don’t know how much time we have, and—”

He couldn’t hold it in. “Jon—why didn’t you just tell me?”

A moment passed, but Martin was determined to wait for an answer. Jon finally gave it.

“Because you were happy.”

“Happy? I was worried sick about you most of the time.”

“That was still better, though, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was—” Jon paused. “You liked taking care of me. You liked that I had to rely on you. You liked that I couldn’t—

“Don’t.”

Jon didn’t.

Martin was suddenly conscious that they had never moved away from the front door. Jon’s last point had knocked some of the energy out of him, but going to sit somewhere else didn’t seem right. He sat on the floor instead, leaning against the back of the couch. Jon reciprocated, leaning on the wall behind him. It was dark in the flat, they hadn’t turned on a light, but they could still see each other well enough from the lights outside the window.

“Look—at least I knew it was wrong.”

Jon sighed. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t wrong. I did need you. And it—it was sweet. I’m glad I have you. It was just—”

“I know. I know what it was.”

In the quiet that followed, guilt that had lain dormant until then writhed its way down to his stomach. It settled in, weighing heavy inside him until Jon broke the silence again.

“Earlier, what you said—you were right.”

“About what?”

“That I should have tried harder to tell you.”

“Jon—I was upset.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

“Yes, I was.” Martin sighed. “I mean… I know you tried to tell me. Well, now I do. But I would have listened if—honestly, I just thought you were going to apologize again or feel bad for everything, and—”

“And you didn’t want to hear that.”

“No, I—” Martin stopped. I didn’t want you to feel that was what he started to say, but he was interrupted by the recollection of his mother, telling him to go put the kettle on to make a cup of tea. He’d grown to hate it right along with the oolong, the way she avoided having to talk with him about anything that might have really mattered, replacing it with something that only roughly resembled comfort.

Words he’d once spoken to himself came back to him. At best, it’s a plaster. At worst, a muzzle.

He was exactly the same as her. The guilt that had awoken started to twist its way back up, into his chest and around his lungs.

“Martin, you’re not—it’s different. You’re not the same.”

“Jon!” Martin’s face flushed. “That’s not suddenly ok now, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon mumbled. “I didn’t mean to. It’s not—it’s harder to control than I remember.”

“Yeah. Great.”

It got quiet again; Martin distractedly tapped his fingertips on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.

“Ok, so… what else? What’s it—what’s it like?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—ok, so do you need to read the statements?”

Jon took a small breath. “Yes.”

“Is it—” He forced himself to look at Jon. “Are you ok? I mean… I know they used to really take it out of you.”

“I’m…” Jon met his eyes, which seemed just as hard for him. “Sometimes they do.”

“Ok. Will you—will you check in with me if you’re reading one and I’m not around?”

“Martin—”

“Look, I’m not asking for a promise. I’m just—I’m just asking if you will.”

“I don’t know.” Jon returned to staring at the floor. The answer hurt, but Martin was relieved for the excuse to break eye contact.

“What about… have you compelled anyone?”

“No.”

“Could you?”

“Yes. Well, probably. Depending on the person.”

Martin nodded. “How hard is it to—know something?”

“It’s, um… not easy. Not as hard as it was at first—before—though. And more things… slip through.”

“Accidentally.”

“Yes.”

Martin realized the muscles in his shoulders and neck were starting to cramp from how he’d been holding them. He exhaled and leaned back against the couch when something occurred to him. “What about Melanie?”

Jon looked up at him again. “What about her?”

“You’ve been sending her after dead ends, haven’t you? That’s why she hasn’t found anyone to talk to. You knew she wouldn’t.”

Jon didn’t answer.

“So that’s a yes?”

Jon nodded reluctantly.

“Good.”

Jon sat straighter, looking at Martin again. “Really? I wasn’t sure if you’d—I mean, I know you want them to know about… about everything.”

“Yeah, I do, but—but everything’s different than I thought.” He couldn’t keep the tinge of resentment out of his voice, but he pushed ahead. “They still need to know, but… it’s different. I’m glad she’s safe.”

The gratefulness he saw so plainly reflected in Jon’s face did two things. It made Martin want to go to him, to bridge the short distance between them and put his arms around him, and try again to convince him everything would be ok. It also stirred the guilt that had begun to recede quietly back into his subconscious, pushing him to think further through everything that had happened, what he might have missed, what he might have done. Those thoughts were coming faster now that he was over his initial shock. They had more to talk about.

“Jon, I’m—I’m sorry I stayed to talk to Annabelle tonight.”

“Are you?”

He hadn’t expected that bit of harshness, and he tensed up at the words. “Well, I—”

“Never mind,” Jon stopped him. “I know why you did it.”

Martin sat back again. “I am sorry, though. I mean, I’m sorry it hurt you.”

There was another short round of silence.

“Jon, why do you think she came to talk to us? Or—talk to you, really?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Jon slumped back against the wall. “She won and she came to gloat.”

“Has she?” Martin asked. “I mean—yeah, we’re here, but—this wasn’t exactly what she wanted. It’s not what she wants in the end, anyway. And gloating, I mean—that really doesn’t seem like her.”

“We have no idea what seems like her, Martin.” The pure bitterness in Jon’s voice was almost a welcome break from the sadness that had dominated his tone until then. “That’s really her whole deal.”

“Maybe.” Martin kept pushing. “Still—I just think—do you really think she was trying to—call a truce? Whatever she said?”

“No,” Jon answered. “I think she came to see the look on my face when she told me they didn’t need me anymore.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No? You don’t think the Fears will find their way out of here eventually?” It was not meant as a legitimate question.

“Ok—I don’t know, but—” Martin tried to choose his words with care. “Yeah. It seems possible.”

“Therefore, she came to gloat.”

“But Jon—” He could feel the frustration creeping into his voice. “I mean—she has to know you won’t just accept that. You’re not planning to let it go, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly. And she has to know that. It’s almost like—it’s almost like she was trying to push you to do something. To not let it go. Why?”

Something about Jon’s demeanor changed; he stiffened slightly, or shifted his balance, and Martin’s thoughts began to converge. The way Annabelle had talked about time—of course she was right, the Web didn’t care, and so she didn’t either. It was very clear her own life didn’t matter to her, any more than it served the Web.

So why would she show up and deliberately remind Jon that if he did nothing, the entities would escape?

It brought to mind something Jon had said earlier, something he had ignored in the moment.

I don’t know how much time we have.

“Jon, what have you been doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you’ve been staying late in the office. When you’ve been working here, writing. What have you been doing? If I open that drawer”—he gestured vaguely behind him toward the desk—“what will I find?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t,” Jon said quietly.

He measured his words carefully. “I’d prefer you tell me.”

Jon shrank into himself; he wrapped one arm around his chest and pulled his knees in, and brought his other hand up to his mouth.

“Jon.” Martin couldn’t stop the slight shake in his voice this time; he hoped he was wrong. “Please. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

“All right.” Jon spoke from behind his hand. “It’s—it’s a ritual.”

It wasn’t the answer Martin had wanted to hear, but it was the one he had expected. “To start another apocalypse?”

“I—” Jon was breathing harder, and Martin could see the effort he was making to push through his words. “Yes. Not—not exactly the same, I could do it faster, and there would be less—”

“How? From memory?”

“No. Well—some. Some of it—there are a couple of—of Leitners—”

“Jesus Christ, Jon!”

“I only used ones that were safe—”

“Safe? Do you realize that a giant fucking eyeball fear monster is telling you which ones are safe?”

“I meant that I could control—”

“I don’t believe you.”

There was a beat of silence. “Martin please, I’m—”

“No, I mean—I literally don’t believe you. I don’t believe you could do it.”

“Martin—”

“Look, I get what happened before. I didn’t agree, but I get it. You’d lost everything. They used you and they took everything that mattered to you. They took Sasha, then Tim, and then Daisy, and you had to watch what it did to all the others—”

“And you,” Jon said.

“—fine, yes, but—Jon, this is not that. This is—they’re all here. They have a chance. And whatever you think happened before—this is a real choice. And they care about you, and you care about them. I just—I don’t think you could do it. I don’t believe it.”

Jon face slid down into his hand until his eyes were covered. “I don’t know. I don’t want to. Probably I couldn’t. Probably I won’t. But I wish I could. If it gets bad enough, maybe I can. And I need to—to be ready. I just can’t—I just can’t let them—”

The quick hitch of breath that followed made Martin forget what he had been about to say, if he’d had any words. He crawled to Jon’s side, slipping one arm around his back and the other around his chest, awkwardly trapping the arm Jon had wrapped around himself. Jon’s face ended up pressed against Martin’s throat, where his breath continued to catch as he fought to stop crying.

Martin wanted to tell him it was ok—that it would be ok, that they could still fix it—but he remembered the last time Jon had finally broken down that had only made him withdraw again. He was starting to really understand that it wasn’t ok for Jon, and probably never would be. He couldn’t bear to think what that meant for him, especially not right then, but he knew enough to not make that mistake again.

He said the only comforting thing he could think of that he was sure about, that he had been sure about for a long time now.

“I love you.”

Jon reached a hand up to Martin’s neck, where he pressed the pads of his fingers firmly against his skin.

“I’m here.” Martin spoke softly against Jon’s hair. He could tell Jon was still struggling, still trying to gain control, but he seemed to have relaxed a little; his body wasn’t quite so rigid as Martin held him.

***

Eventually Jon was calm. They’d shifted so that he rested with his back against Martin’s chest, and Martin’s back was against the wall. His arms were around Jon’s waist, and Jon’s arms rested comfortably on top of his as he leaned back into him.

“So.” Jon’s voice was raw. “I’ve finally become a monster.”

“No.” Martin pressed his mouth gently against his ear. “You haven’t.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No. I mean—I still don’t think you could do it, but—now that we’re here, and we know what’s out there—you don’t want them to get out again. That would be terrible.”

Jon shifted slightly; Martin impulsively tightened his grip, then made himself relax again.

“To be clear—I don’t think you’re responsible for what happens a hundred years from now, or a thousand years from now—and I’m definitely not in favor of ending the world over it.”

“Martin, it just—it doesn’t matter how long from now it is. If it’s ten thousand years from now and they escape, and poison a thousand dimensions—more than that, maybe—if I could have ended it, it’s my fault.”

Martin tightened his grip again, this time deliberately.

“Maybe there’s another way.”

Jon turned so his forehead was against Martin’s cheek. “Martin, I know you want to think that, but—”

“Yes, and I know, the world doesn’t care what I think.”

“I should never have said that.”

“I mean, it hurt—but it was true.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the point. The point is—I still don’t think Annabelle would have turned up just to brag. I think she needs something. She doesn’t want you to have time. I think she’s trying to push you into acting, and maybe—maybe, if you did, it would all turn out the same. But worse, obviously.”

Jon’s fingers, which he had been absentmindedly brushing over Martin’s forearm, were suddenly still; Martin realized that possibility hadn’t occurred to him.

“But maybe—if you don’t, but if you keep trying—keep looking for it—maybe there is another way. One she’s scared of. A path she doesn’t want you to take.”

“Hm.” Martin could tell Jon wasn’t sold on it, but he had heard him, and that was enough for the moment.

“Jon?”

“Yes.”

“I’m—I’m going to tell them soon.”

Jon nodded. “I understand.”

He kissed Jon lightly on the forehead, and slid his hand up to his chest, where he slipped his fingers into the gaps between the buttons of Jon’s shirt. He could feel the scar, his scar, through the thin fabric of Jon’s t-shirt; beneath that though, around it, he could feel the rise and fall of Jon’s chest.

“Jon.”

“Yes?”

“Let me know if you’re reading a statement and I’m not around?”

Jon sighed. “All right.”

[domesticblisss]

By My Side | Pt.02

Timothy Thatcher x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Baby’) Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 2257 Warnings: Smut, angst and fluff. PiV, oral (female receiving) rough sex, relationship discussions, alcohol mention and language. Inspired by INXS’ song, By My Side. Pt.01

“Welcome to NXT, Thatcher.”

Timothy turns around and stops for a second, staring at her. Baby looks him in the eyes, not blinking once. Silence is shared between them for what feels like an eternity. Tim hugs her as tight as he can, knocking the wind out of her, but Baby doesn’t reciprocate, her arms limp by her side as Tim holds her. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” Tim breaths on her hair.

“Fucking liar.” she whispers back to him. 

Tim releases the hold he had on her, but still keeps her close by keeping one hand on her shoulder. “Can we talk? I feel like we need to talk. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, I understand that you hate me, you have all the right to. But can we please talk? I’m staying at Junior’s, if you want to...”

“Fine. I’ll be there at 7.” and she leaves before hearing his answer. 

Dakota and Rhea find her a few minutes later on the locker room, crying.

“Baby, what happened? You were talking to Thatcher and vanished from the gym. Did he do anything to you?” Kai says as she wipes her friends face clean.

“Do you want me to beat him up? You know I’d anything for you...” Rhea offers her.

“God, Rhea. No! But thank you. I don’t think I ever told you guys about this part of my time in Germany, yeah?” she tells them everything. About how they met, them touring together, all the happy moments and their downfall.

“We never fought, not once. Whenever something the other did bothered us we would just sit and talk. He always told me how great I was, how I was one of the best professionals he had ever seen. We talked about our dreams. I still can’t understand why he didn’t believe I couldn’t get here.” her voice breaks at the end and Baby starts crying again. Rhea hugs her, dries her cheeks once again, while saying “First of all, you need to stop crying, he doesn’t deserve it. Second, you guys really need to talk.”

“You do, babes.” Kota intervenes, “You guys need to have some closure to it. You left without even officially ending your relationship.”

“I know. He asked me to meet him tonight. I agreed to it. I don’t know why I got so shaken up after seeing him. I thought I had gotten over it, you know?” Baby sighs.

“Look, it’s normal. Just go, talk to him. If anything, call us and we break his nose again for you, yeah? Ripley offers.

“Okay, I love you guys.” 

The day goes by way too quickly and when she realises, it’s almost 7. Sometimes, it’s a good thing that her and Junior live on the same Condo, being so close to each other really makes things easier when they want to do something together. Right now she is regretting that nearness. She wishes she had some little time to give herself a little pep talk before seeing Tim again. 

She arrives just as Marcel leaves his apartment with Fabian. Both of them hug her and tell her to call if she needs anything as Tim waits by the door.

“Hello again, Timothy” she says, entering the apartment.

“Timothy. Wow.”

“Can’t call you chocolate eyes like I used to, can I?”

“Well, technically you can, my eyes hadn’t — “

“No technicalities here, Timothy. Let’s get this over with, please.”

“Right, I’m sorry. Please sit.” he begins. “Do you want something? Water? Beer? Also, I ordered take out from that Lebanese place Junior said you like so much.”

“Tim...” she sighs, exhausted. “I’m not hungry or thirsty. Can we please get over with it?” Noticing how harsh she was and the sad look on his face, she continues “Fuck, I’m sorry. I appreciate your efforts but I really can’t do this. Not right now, I can’t pretend everything is fine and dandy and eat and drink like nothing happened.”

“No you’re right. I just... I really need to apologise to you. I was so frustrated that everyone I knew was getting what they wanted and I kept stuck in one place.  It felt like I was getting on a dead end road. I panicked when I noticed you were leaving, I felt like I was losing the one good constant thing in my life, the most important thing in my life. And I fucking did because of how much of a prick I was to you. I am so, so sorry for that. I won’t ask you for your forgiveness, it would be nice, but I understand if you don’t want to.”

“We could’ve worked out the whole ‘long distance’ thing you know... anyway Tim, you fucking broke me. I don’t think I ever loved anything, anyone more in my life than I loved you. I thought we were going to be together forever, you know? I couldn’t imagine my life without you... and you just insulted me, insulted the only thing I was proud of, the only thing I’ve ever felt I was good at when my dream was becoming a reality. The truth is I’ve already forgiven you. I did it as soon as I calmed myself down because I knew how much in distress you were. But you’ve broken me and I don’t feel like things can come back to how they were. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as I can in the PC, I would appreciate if you did the same. I really don’t think we have anything else to say to each other, so goodbye.” She kisses his cheek and leaves before he can say anything else. 

It has been months since they talked and Baby was able to stay away from Tim. She made sure to workout whenever he wasn’t at the Performance Centre. Whenever they had classes together, they would stand on the opposite sides of the room, far from each other. She never looked at him, but could feel his eyes staring at her. She was also very thankful to whatever high power that exists that they never got paired together. She had finally moved on. 

Whenever she wanted to see Marcel or Fabian, they would either go to her place or the three of them would meet at a bar. For some reason, today’s bar date felt like a deja vu. They were on a booth, her with her back to the bar’s entrance, nursing a beer while Junior and Fabian took shots. The boys were in front of her, laughing when she felt her anxiety creep in. A few moments later, a presence is felt and Tim stands there, in all his 6ft3 glory. 

“Good evening, guys.” Tim says to everyone, but his eyes never leave hers. Baby answers him back, while scooting a little far into the booth so Tim can sit by her side.

They never directly talk to each, their interactions only happening when Marcel and Fabian say something that requires an answer from the both of them.

She can feel Tim is nervous, his leg bouncing like crazy by her side, the fabric of his shorts rubbing on the skin her skirt didn’t cover. Baby has lost count on how many times she has held herself back from putting her hands on his knee to rub her thumb on it, like she always did when he was nervous.

The night went on like this. Soon enough, Junior and Fabian were shit faced, making Tim and Baby take them home together.

They arrive at the boys place, the both of them taking their designated drunk to their respective room and meeting back again on the living room. Tim speaks first before she tries to leave.

“Does this feels like deja vu to you too?

“God it does! Except it was Mack instead of Fabian last time.” she laughs softly back at him.

“I guess the next thing should be me raiding his fridge for a beer, right?” he asks reluctantly, afraid of her answer.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you on the balcony.”

Tim is back a few moments later, “I don’t know where Junior finds all this european stuff.”

“Oh, there’s a store nearby that sells foods and drinks from around the world. The day we first went there he was so excited I thought he was gonna pass out.”

“That does sounds like him. Look, I didn’t know you would be at the bar tonight, if I did, I wouldn’t have gone, as much as I want to see you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know it was Axel’s fault. But yeah, I wanted to see you too.” She tells him, a bit ashamed and they both smile at each other. They share a few moments of silence together, just appreciating their beers and the light breeze they were getting tonight. 

She’s moves around on the balcony to stand somewhat in front of him, and is the one to break the silence. “The PC is doing great things to you. Your ‘Thatch-as-Thatch Can’ segments are incredible. You’re better at talking, more confident, it really suits you.”

“Thanks. I saw you’re doing moonsaults now. I remember you always wanting to do it but afraid of. They look great. Everything you do is impeccable. I always knew you would be able to.”

They stare at each other in silence for what feels like ages, the breeze picks up again, making her hair fall to her face. Tim brushes the hair out of her face, glides his thumb across her right cheek and then her lips. On impulse, Baby grabs his t-shirt and crashes their lips together. When Tim feels her letting go, he holds her close, trapping her in his arms and deepening the kiss. 

It’s a raw, desperate kiss. Teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance. She moans when he lets go of her lips, leaving a wet trail of rough kisses from her face to the sweet spot on her neck, giving little bites to the space behind her ears.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, Timmo.” She says, rubbing her core on his hardening length.

“Me too, doll. C’mon, let’s go to the bedroom”. 

They are attached to each other, stumbling on furniture, knocking down the living room lamp. When they get to Tim’s bedroom, they don’t bother on wasting time to take their clothes off. Tim pulls his shorts down and snakes Baby’s legs around his waist, lifts her skirt up enough to easily shove her lacy panties aside and fuck her against the wall.

It’s angry and rough, the result of one year worth of pent up rage and regret. They don’t care about the noises they’re making, fuck the neighbours, fuck Marcel, fuck Fabian, they are in their own little world now. Tim pulls the straps of her bra down, enough to attach his lips to her left nipple.

“Tim, babe, please don’t stop, I’m almost there. FUCK!”

He goes in harder, rougher and in no time she comes, flooding their clothes with her juices. Tim only stops when he feels her spasming against him, letting her gain some strength back. They move to his bed, taking the rest of their clothes off and Tim on her again, kissing her heat, sucking on her clit while he fingers her, mercilessly. It’s not long before she comes again, stronger than before, while gripping her hand on his hair, tears involuntarily streaming down her face.

He comes up to her lips, lays his body on top her and kisses her sweetly. “I’m sorry, doll. Was I too rough on you?” She lazily nods her head, silly smile on her face, still speechless.

Meanwhile, she strokes his still hard cock, lining it on her entrance, Tim asks if she still can take it, she only nods and lets out a soft “Mhmm”.

This time, Tim is gentle, rocking his body in an almost teasing motion, all while kissing her, telling her how much he missed her. They come together a few moments later.

Tim tumbles to his side of the bed, bringing Baby to lay her head on his chest, both of them coming out of their highs, just cherishing this moment together.

“I love you.” Baby finally breaks the silence. “I love you so much it hurts. I’m sorry I’ve been such a stubborn idiot.”

“Doll, you have all the right to be stubborn, I was a prick to you. And yes, I love you too. I love you more than anything, you still are the most important thing in my life.”

“So… do you want to try this again?” Baby offers.

“More than anything.” 

Baby wakes up around 07am, their limbs tangled together. She tries to get up without waking Tim up, failing. He holds her hand and asks where she’s going, “Breakfast”, she answers sleepily.

“Your famous eggs and bacon?”

“If Marcel has any on his fridge, yeah.”

“Yes!!!” she laughs at his attitude and goes to the kitchen. 

A few moments later Marcel appears in the kitchen, stops in his tracks and asks “What are you doing here? Did you fuck Fabian???”

“She didn’t fuck Fabian, dipshit.” Tim says as he walks past the german, who has a confused look on his face. He eyes Tim’s back, all red from the scratches she left behind last night, and it comes to him.

“What do y – oh my god, yes! FINALLY!”