[Image Description: A greyscale drawing of Jonathan Sims, a thin, dark-skinned man with short dark hair in a white long-sleeved shirt and covered with many white bandages on his face, neck and arms. He is sitting at a desk with a piece of paper in one hand and a tape recorder in the other. He is looking at the camera with a terrified expression. Behind him is a chalkboard covered in writings and notes. A vague outline of an eye is created by the notes and writings with his head in the center. In the foreground are nondescript boxes, one with illegible writing, and behind one sits a white mug. Attached to his arms and in the corner of the board are some faint spiderwebs. End ID]
Quick thing for @dudeiwannasleep‘s DTIYS! Managed to fit this in during work, the only time I’m not packing for the move.
Finally finished up this DTIYS by @dudeiwannasleep! This was so much fun to work on. I kept changing my mind over the lighting, but I think I’m finally satisfied with this. Went with a different facial expression than the original because I was struggling to get it right. Overall I’m really happy with this! If y’all know of any more TMA-themed DTIYS challenges, let me know!
i’m almost scared to ask this due to the angst potential but 22 with jm, please?
You blessed me with a Good Martin earlier, I’ll spare you from the angst storm (I have nooo ulterior motives here, me, who doesn’t like writing angst? None whatsoever)
Set in some nebulous no-powers au where they get to go home from a Normal Date. Thank you @horngryeyes for letting me just message him asking for Polish swears
22) Things you said after it was over
“I had a really nice time tonight.”
Martin smiled as Jon leaned closer into his side, joined hands between them stilling from their gentle swing, purely because they no longer had space to with Jon cosied up against him. “I’m glad, I had a wonderful time as well.”
The restaurant they had been to had been close to Martin’s apartment, and so they were currently on their way to the nearest tube station for Martin to see him off safely. They proceeded to walk in a comfortable silence for several minutes, the comforting presence of the other at their side driving off the chill of the early Spring evening.
It was only when they reached the entrance to the tube station and Martin’s eyes drifted to the screen displaying a digital clock did they realise something was wrong.
“Wait, what?” Jon vocalised his concern before Martin, a furrow forming on his brow. “That can’t be right.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and glared at the lock screen. The harsh white light illuminated exactly the same numbers as those staring back down at them in green LED from the wall of the station. 1:06AM. Aka, past the time any of the trains were running in Jon’s direction home.
“How? I checked as we were paying, we were getting ready to leave the restaurant at 11:40, it can’t have taken us over an hour to walk here, it was barely a mile!”
“... Jon what day is it?”
“What?”
“Just, check for me?”
Jon hit the button again and his phone screen lit up. “Just turned over to the 28th. Is that anything?”
“Spring forward, fall back, kurde,” Martin muttered under his breath. “Of course. Just our luck. Clocks just went forward for British Summertime. So we essentially just lost an hour, and it’s now one as opposed to just gone twelve. So... No trains.”
“... No trains”
There was a silence for a moment, breath starting to cloud in front of them as they breathed in the cool night air, rapidly getting colder. The silence was broken by the sound of Jon typing, fingers quickly skimming over his phone as he began trying to search for alternatives. “Buses maybe? I think they’re still running but I’m not sure if there’s any going my route....”
Another few seconds passed of Jon hurriedly typing and Martin chewing his lip. Eventually, he managed to muster up the courage to speak, “I mean.. You could always come back to mine?”
And immediately, his mind was racing with all the different reasons for why he shouldn’t have said that. This was only their third official date, was that too soon to invite Jon back to his house? They weren’t even technically dating yet, there was still a certain degree of casual about their relationship, they weren’t actually boyfriends. God, what if Jon misunderstood what he was saying? They’d had that conversation even before they’d started seeing each other, one friend trusting another with an intimate detail of their life. Martin didn’t want Jon to think he’d forgotten, or worse, was disregarding it. And even past those two points, Jon was technically still his boss - Logically he knew if they were breaking any kind of office conduct they would have done so three dinners ago, but this felt different, to invite someone to your home felt far more vulnerable, and serious.
“Uh- That’s okay, Martin I wouldn’t want to impose...”
Martin isn’t quite sure where he got the courage to continue. Normally he’d take Jon’s response to heart, overthink it, and end up interpreting it as ‘I don’t want to do that and am trying to let you down easy’. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine he’d had at dinner, or some spirit of the moment daring, but whatever it is possessed him long enough for him to say “You wouldn’t be imposing. Actually, I would rather like you to be there?”
Jon looked slightly stunned for a moment, before Martin began to see a faint flush darken his cheeks. “Oh, uhm...” A spike of anxiety shot through Martin as Jon dipped his head to cough into his fist, but when he drew it away again he looked somewhat... Bashful? “Well, if... Yes, okay then. I would like to be there as well.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
There was another few beats of silence before both, tipsy on averagely-priced wine and drunk on nervous energy, lapsed into childish giggles. “Lead the way, Mr Blackwood,” Jon crooned, leaning into his arm again, and Martin knew he was joking, playful atmosphere being allowed to overtake the anxious one between them, but he rather liked the sound of that.
It was another ten minutes of walking further to get back to Martin’s flat, and Jon only managed to stumble over his own two feet once, which may have been partially due to his own three glasses of red setting in, or just the fact that it was rather awkward to walk when trying to merge with the coat of the man beside you.
“It’s uhm, sorry if it’s a little messy, I wasn’t expecting company, obviously,” Martin apologised as he fumbled with the key in the lock.
“’M sure it’s fine.” Jon’s speech was getting a little messier now, but really only to the degree that was notable by Standard Jon English. He wasn’t quite at the swaying on his feet stage yet, but he was blinking sleepily, a small, content smile playing gently at his lips.
As he stepped in the door, Martin shrugged his coat off and hung it by the door, gesturing an invitation for Jon to do the same, which he accepted. Martin took his hand again to lead him inside, but let go again soon enough to step into the small alcove of the kitchen to fetch two glasses and fill them at the sink. “I think we could both use these,” he said softly, handing one to Jon, who took it gratefully. They sipped their water in silence for a moment, enjoying the relative peace and warmth that being inside afforded them. They didn’t sit, both just leaned against the wall while Jon took in the contents of a bookshelf and Martin watched him do so, both with equal levels of intrigue.
Eventually, the silence was broken by the muffled sound of a yawn from Jon, who tried to cover it with one hand. “Right, maybe time for bed then?” Martin suggested, taking the glass from him and putting them both beside the sink to deal with tomorrow.
When he returned Jon was hovering around the couch, like he wanted to take a seat but was unsure how to go about doing so. “You okay?”
“Oh, uhm, yes, I just... You wouldn’t happen to have a spare blanket, would you?”
“What?”
“Sorry to be a bother I just- Never mind, it’s fine. Good night, Martin.”
“...What?”
“I- I’m sorry did I do something wrong?”
“No, just... C’mon, bedrooms this way.”
“Oh!” And there was that flush again, more visible under the lights of the flat than it had been under streetlamps.
“... Jon, did you think I was going to make you sleep on the sofa?” Martin felt his voice trail slightly upwards at the end, struck both by humour and concern.
“I didn’t want to presume!” Jon said, shaking his hands out. “Um... Okay then, lead the way.”
Martin smiled, before doing the mental math and squinting. “Two seconds?” He said, before quickly making his way into the bedroom and doing his best to make the room look as presentable as possible within a short amount of time. A minute or two later he opened the door again, and Jon made his way inside.
His room wasn’t anything special, just a standard bedroom in a low quality apartment, but the duvet and quilt had been straightened and clothes haphazardly strewn about the room had been banished into the laundry basket, and the lamp on his bedside table was casting a soft yellow glow about the room, making the room feel warm and cosy.
Jon just kind of stood there for a moment, like he was trying to figure out what to do next, before Martin realised what was wrong with the picture. “Oh, uhm, clothes, do you want to borrow a shirt or something?”
The words were out of Martin’s mouth before he could really think through the implications of them, practicality and comfort overriding the realisation that Jon borrowing his shirt would mean Jon, in his bed, wearing his clothes.
“That would be good, thank you.”
Martin attempted to keep his composure by going over to his drawers and rooting around for two shirts, one for himself and one for Jon. “I’d offer you bottoms too but I’m not really sure they’d fit, is that okay?” Martin said, turning to hand Jon a shirt. He wasn’t sure what Jon was comfortable with, where boundaries lay yet, he didn’t want to force Jon into something that overstepped.
“I think that should be fine,” Jon said, and Martin breathed a sigh of relief.
“Right, uh, do you want to take the bathroom and I’ll...?”
“Okay, sure, sure.”
Jon made his way through the other door in the room and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Martin was just finished changing into his own pyjamas when a knock came from the other side of the door, startling him slightly. “Oh, finished!”
The door opened, and Jon walked into the room. Now, Martin had known, theoretically, for the last three minutes that Jon had been gone that when he saw him again he would be standing in his bedroom wearing his shirt. But it was quite another thing to actually see it, soft golden lamplight reflecting against eyes that at this point were losing the fight to stay open, too-large shirt with a faded movie poster on it hanging loosely around his shoulders, panning down to boxers and bare feet on the wooden floor. Martin felt his breath catch in his throat slightly.
“Are you okay?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, fine. Do you, uhm, need anything?”
“No, no, I’m fine thank you, I think I’m just about ready to pass out if it’s all the same to you.”
“I can agree with that.”
Jon kept his eyes on the bed, watching until Martin had walked over to his chosen side and pulled the covers back before padding round to the opposite and climbing in beside him.
There were a few awkward moments where they both got comfortable. Martin hadn’t shared a bed with someone in quite a while, and it was an odd sensation to try and get used to again. “Pillows, do you- Is that enough?”
“Two is more than fine, thank you Martin,” Jon said, cleaning back against them.
“Right, well... Good night, Jon.”
“Good night, Martin.” Jon said, voice barely above a whisper now as his eyes drifted closed. Martin took that as a cue to turn the light off.
Martin had never been aware of how loud the analog clock hanging on his wall was until that moment, dull ticks making themselves thunderous in the silence between them. He must have counted to sixty several times over before Martin heard a rustling beside him, and felt the duvet twitch.
“Martin?” If Jon’s goodnight had been a whisper, this was barely audible, but as it was Martin was so aware of every footstep of his neighbours, creaking of pipes, or car going past outside, it sounded like it was said directly into his ear. Which, really, wasn’t that far off, considering how close Jon was, lying on the pillow next to him.
“Mmmh?”
“I.. Thank you, for today. For this.”
“You don’t have to thank me for a date, Jon, that’s... I mean, not that I’m not tempted to thank you in return but that’s not how that works.”
He rolled on to his side to face Jon, and was greeted by a face only a few inches away him his. “Oh. Hi.”
Jon smiled. “Hi.”
“Can I... Do you mind if...” Words failing him, Martin leaned forward. When Jon didn’t seem to retreat, he leaned further, until he was pressing a kiss to his brow. “Is... Is that okay?”
There was a low rumbling from Jon’s throat, vibrating across the pillow. “More than okay. Encouraged, even,” Jon said, and suddenly he was pressing a kiss to Martin’s cheek in return. He searched under the duvet for a moment, before twining his fingers together with Martin’s, and proceeded to roll over to face away from him, dragging Martin’s arm with him until it was draped across him, gently cradling their bodies together. “Good night, Martin.”
No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |
this trope is fantastic 10/10 truly nothing better than reading a slow burn fic and getting to the "oh. oh." moment after like 90k words of them not realizing they're falling in love with each other 💛
every time i'm always like
[ID: The second panel in the "What if it was purple?" meme with Eric Andre. He is sitting at a desk with both hands raised in a victorious gesture. / End ID]
I like it and think it's tasty but I rarely go out of my way to eat it. Like it's not a go to order but if it's up for grabs in someone's freezer I'm like HELL yeah
okay, if you’re into pll at the moment and enjoy ridiculously long youtube video series, i highly recommend watching mike’s mic three part recap of the entire show if you haven’t already
baby that is 100% what kicked off my getting into this shit again i watched all his pll videos and like. he gets it he truly is the appropriate level of unhinged
