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deniigi · 4 years ago

Text

MORE POLYCULE SHIT

here this is mostly Sam/Ned from Matt’s POV. (this piece assumes Matt didn’t know about the negotiations until later)

Title: soda bottles

Summary: Matt finds out about Sam’s involvement with Ned and then with Peter’s polycule. He tries to talk to Sam about it, but fails. On like, every front.

---------------

The apprentice told him to stay out of his room and his life and his business and he should have known better by now, truly.

Matt knew that voice. And he also knew that what Sam, Samuel, Sammy-my-darling was doing right now at this present moment was giggling.

Unacceptable. There would be no joy in this house.

Matt removed himself from the door and declared war in silence.

---

The dogs were instrumental in luring Samuel out to open space. And by luring, Matt meant knocking on his bedroom door with leashes in hand and asking Sam if he wanted a walk.

In no time Matt had zero leashes and zero dogs and, while he was at it, zero apprentices.

In fact, he had been abandoned.

In his own house.

Again.

How did this keep happening?

---

Foggy told Matt to let Sam have his little crush on Ned. Ned was a good boy. Foggy had maintained this for years. He skirted around the fact that he’d grabbed Ned’s shoulders when he was 17 and had told him to stare him in the eyes and to never fall in love with his best friend.

Matt pointed this out to him and got a pillow to the face, then a huff and an uncalled-for reminder that he was a fucking idiot and no one loved him.

This was Foggy’s love language though, so Matt didn’t take it to heart. Instead, he abandoned him for the only person in the world who truly understood him.

Jenn.

---

Jenn had to spend fifteen minutes cooing over the fact that Matt had acquired an apprentice and then she had to spend another ten being an asshole about it and then she spent a solid 5 making dad jokes at him when he tried to talk and so he waited until she was done with her cackling and personal jabs.

She told him that it was cute that Peter’s bestie was gushing over Matt’s apprentice.

She told him that he should be happy for them.

And Matt was. Happy for them, that is.

He was thrilled.

Sam’s track record with long-term partners, as far as Matt could tell, was a solid nil for nil. The boy refused to be attached to anyone, which Matt totally got.

But it was like standing by, watching your own young moronic self making a series of unfortunate decisions that were not only whole unnecessary, but also had solutions within easy reach, like headstones in a damn cemetery.

Sam had a string of guys and girls that he’d picked up at clubs and bars and fuckin’ hipster literature readings downtown who were literally, actually falling over themselves to be with him. And he texted them and laughed about them and joked with Leilani and Achara about them, and then never spoke of them ever again.

Matt got it, okay?

He’d been that guy.

Maybe a little more on the jock side of things and maybe a little less, say, refined than Sammy—but he still got it. A slightly longer relationship was good for Sam. And Ned was a good egg—no, a great egg.

But he just couldn’t shake this feeling, Jenn.

He didn’t even know what it was, but it made him paranoid and want Sam to go back to the self-destructive nonsense, because at least Matt knew what that felt like. He could push back against that after dumping the kid out of the ring in training.

“Matty,” Jenn said affectionately, “You’re trying to protect Sam, Ned, and Peter. But you don’t have to do that. They’re all grown. Let them make their decisions.”

Ooooohohoho

How dare she.

Matt knew they were grown. Sam was nearly 25. Peter was almost 27—oh god, Peter was almost 27. FUCK. Jesus. Lord. Someone—Christ.

Sammy was a baby.

He couldn’t be playing with these big kids, he’d have his heart broken.

What if Ned got bored of him, Jenn??

Matt couldn’t beat the shit out of Ned. Ned was a good boy. And Peter would lose his damn gourd and that was how Matt would end up under two tons of concrete and rebar with an angry spider perched on top, stomping and spitting.

“Matt,” Jenn said soothingly. “Peter learned how to be polyamorous from you, dear heart.”

Oh shit.

Oh right.

Oh no.

“I’ve gotta go,” Matt said. “Lovely talking to you, next time you’re in town, come around for a foursome or a twosome or a three if Kirsten’s down—okay BYE.”

Jenn laughed at him when he hung up.

Matt clutched at his chest.

---

He’d inadvertently taught Peter what polyamory looked like by flinging himself down on many disgusting surfaces and moaning and writhing in agony and despair about Foggy being monogamous and everyone in the world being unspeakably brilliant and strong and no-doubt gorgeous.

Fuckin’ Kirsten.

Fuckin’ Wade.

Fuckin’ Karen.

And Heather and Marci and ONE TIME ONLY Frank.

UGH.

Disgusting. Matt needed Lysol to scrub that moment of weakness from his brain.

The point was that he’d been a chump, and baby Peter had observed these various moaning sessions and had apparently, at some point, started taking notes.

Gah.

Peter. Why?

Stop loving your friends. Stop copying me. Get your own breakdown material.

Uuuuuuugh.

Okay, okay. Rally, Murdock. It’s fine.

This is simply a conversation to have with Sammy about how to negotiate such--hng. Actually maybe this was a Kirsten conversation.

---

He went to visit Kirsten.

He got a little distracted because Kirsten was Kirsten and she required thorough smelling and like, minimum two kisses and she deserved to have at his bare chest if she wanted it—who was he to deny her—THE POINT.

The point. Was.

That he told Kirsten about things and she told him not to talk about work when she was taking her shirt off, and he told her to leave it on for just like, five minutes longer and that came out wrong and she was insulted and Matt had to backtrack for half an hour.

But he got there in the end, alright?

Kirsten said she didn’t know that Sam was polyamorous.

Matt said that he didn’t know if he was, but he sure as shit was flirting with Ned like, constantly.

Kirsten said that that explained why Sam kept telling her that he couldn’t come to dinner with them because he already had a date. Kirsten then went rigid and said, “Wait, you mean Ned-Ned?”

Yes.

Yes, Matt did.

“Oh.”

Correct reaction.

“Is that—do you think that’s –hm.”

Correct reaction maintained and appreciated. Matt no longer felt like a monumental ass.

“That might be a little, uh, cuttin’ it close there,” Kirsten said. “Does Peter know?”

Presumably. Ned couldn’t lie for shit.

“Maybe we should ask Peter what the negotiations there are. He’s pretty on top of that stuff.”

Shockingly, that was true.

Good plan.

“If Sammy’s gonna get involved with them, then he should at least know what he’s getting into,” Kirsten said.

Yes, but also—why is this feeling happening, Kirsten, beloved life partner number 2?

“Oh, that? That’s called ‘you’re a territorial dick,’” Kirsten said. “Get over yourself.”

“But he’s 24,” Matt said. “A child.”

“He’ll be twenty-five in a few months, Matthew,” Kirsten said. “That’s bad-decision-making prime-time. This is inevitable. My concern is that he’s not going into a relationship with Ned, thinking that he’s the primary partner there.”

Okay, fair.

“Are we done with this conversation now?”

Yes.

“Thank god. I hate your dad impulses. Cleanse yourself of them and get on the bed.”

Would do.

---

Kirsten made Matt call Peter and be awkward for the both of them which, Matt would like it stated for the record, was extremely unfair and manipulative of her.

Peter told him that Sam was fine.

Peter told him that he and Sam had maybe fooled around a little bit without Matt and Foggy and Kirsten’s knowledge which was. Hm.

Troublemakers. Stop laughing, Franklin. This is nothing like the time we inducted Kirsten into our life and lied about it to everyone we knew for 3 years.

Nothing.

Peter thought not. Peter thought that Sam had told Matt about this whole thing. He then got a little huffy and said that Ned was the one who had swept Sam off his feet while Peter had been standing right there, man. As Spiderman. Primed for feet-sweeping.

That was satisfying.

Peter took the next ten minutes to complain about how Sam didn’t want to talk to him as much as he wanted to talk to Ned and how Ned was always begging off dinners with Peter and MJ to go have dinner with Sam and how Peter and MJ had to make do with Johnny in his absence.

Matt would never understand why Peter pretended that he and Johnny Storm were nothing more than fuck buddies, but okay, sure. If that’s what helps you sleep at night, little lion man.

Peter went on to say that the worst part of Sam and Ned’s mutual obsession was how fucking cute it was.

Disgusting, Peter maintained.

There were matching bracelets and drawn out decisions about matching sneakers. And there was nattering on until past midnight about Transformers lore and there was non-stop texting and complaints about various tools and coding languages and all this shit that Peter’s own flavor of nerd had diverged from about six years ago.

Kirsten made a little squeak that told Matt that she was highly entertained by Peter’s ‘complaints.’

It sounded more to Matt like Peter and MJ were hunkered down behind the couch, narrating all Ned’s behavior to Johnny (the totally uninvolved fuckbuddy) in whispers.

Foggy curled up on the edge of their own couch to muffle his wheezy giggles.

Exhausting.

The youth were exhausting. How had no one just shot Matt straight through the heart at 27?

“I will speak to Sam about emotional repression,” he promised Peter only to receive a “NO WAIT” from both him and, from the sound of it, MJ and (only fuckbuddy) Johnny a little ways away.

Peter hurriedly explained that Sammy was really shy and skittish about being around their polycule and had just connected with Ned as the least threatening member and it had taken ages, so please don’t say anything and destroy all of the rest of their hard work.

This hit a strange note.

Foggy and Kirsten weren’t snickering anymore either.

Sam?

Wasn’t?

Shy?

Like, if anything, Sammy was shameless. Always lying in people’s laps and snatching their open hands to swing back and forth.

Sure, he was teasing. But shy? Shy?

Sam was sick.

“No,” Peter said. “Double D, he’s not sick.”

Very sick. Terminally ill.

“DD. He’s not sick.”

Bullshit. Matt was taking him to the doctor. Too bad, Sam. You couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Matt. He’s just. Emotionally. Repressed. You should recognize it because its your whole way of being.”

Wow, hadn’t this conversation been going on for a while now? Time to go.

“MATT. Leave him alone,” Peter said. “I’m looking after him, okay? Chill.”

Chill. Yes. Okay, fine. Matt would chill.

For now. Goodbye, Peter.

---

Matt hadn’t chilled about anything in his life and he didn’t intend to start now. So instead he confronted the apprentice.

The apprentice leaned very hard against his door and told Matt that he would rather die than speak of such things, so Matt told him to bare his neck.

Sammy was convinced. But only just.

He made himself frighteningly small and grumpy on his bed and allowed Matt to sit only on the last four inches of it. Matt kind of wanted to take the opportunity to teach him how to hiss.

But alas. That was a skill for another time.

“I talked to Peter,” he said.

Sam mumbled.

“He says you’re shy. Are you feeling okay?”

Sam mumbled in a more prolonged, growly kind of way. He was muffled by something. Probably jeans. Or sweats. Hard to tell.

“Why are you being shy? We both know you’re not shy. Ned’s a nice boy,” Matt told him. “You can trust him.”

Sam jerked his body in some way strongly enough to make the bed shake.

Matt sighed.

“Sam,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam said.

“Listen, kid,” Matt said. “You’re gonna do what you want. You’re grown, those are your decisions to make. But if you’re ever uncomfortable or you want to spend time with one person in particular, you’ve gotta communicate that to the others. I know that’s not like, smoothly done or whatever. But it’s what you’ve gotta do in these kinds of relationships.”

Sam made an unhappy sound.

“I don’t want a relationship,” he said quietly.

Ehn.

Same, pal.

They’re a lot of work.

“They’re worth it,” Matt promised him. “And it’s okay to be a little in love, you know. I’m in love every day. It’s not shameful. You don’t have to hide it.”

Sam huffed.

“People’ll stare,” he finally said. “If we ever went out. People would stare.”

Ahhh.

“That’s what you think,” Matt said. “But then you go and do it and it turns out that no one actually cares. People are very self-centered, Sam. You spend all this time worrying about how others perceive you and, at the end of the day, 90% of people literally don’t care. You don’t have to talk to Ned in your room all the time.”

Sam did something with his body that concentrated it even further into a dense mass.

“I like him,” he admitted. “He’s nice.”

Matt hummed.

“He’s a peaceful person,” he said.

“He talks so I don’t have to,” Sam said.

Aw.

Matt felt across the bed and eventually found Sam’s cheek to pinch.

“So shy for such a loudmouth,” he teased.

Sam bit his hand. Matt snickered.

“It’s okay, when I met Fogs I was shy, too,” he said.

Sam grumbled.

“It’s true,” Matt said. “Could not fathom having another human around who I didn’t have to put on an act for.”

He waited.

Sam didn’t even seem to realize that his heart was slowing down.

“I don’t like talking all the time,” he said after a long few beats.

Matt ruffled his hair.

“Ned knows a lot about Star Wars,” he said.

“And computers,” Sam added.

“And code,” Matt said.

Sam’s foot shook a little. Matt schooled his face. Sam crunched into a tighter ball.

Adorable.

Matt got up.

“Long distance is rough,” he said. “Maybe you guys can watch a movie together.”

Sam made a disgruntled sound. Matt left him to be miserable.

---

“You’ve sure turned your opinion around.”

Yes, Husband. Matt had indeed. But that was because Sam was clearly and obviously suffering as a result of this crush, which was precisely where Matt needed him to be.

Misery was familiar. Resentment was nearly as good as spite in terms of skill development.

Dopey-ness was asking for trouble.

“Matt, you cannot be serious.”

Oh, but he could.

“Matthew, what did you tell that boy?”

Nothing he didn’t need to know.

Foggy abandoned him at the table. Matt sipped his coffee. It tasted oh-so-sweet.

---

Things did not change until Matt got a text from Peter that said simply ‘when the fuck is Sam’s birthday?’

In February. Why was he asking?

Peter said ‘damn. Okay, thanks.’

Peter then said that he’d seemed a little sad lately and Ned was freaking out about it and fixating, so they were collectively looking for an excuse to cheer Sam up a little.

Oh, Matt realized. No, that wasn’t sad.

The night nurse had given Sammy the good drugs after last week. He was high as a kite, bless him. Kept running into walls and shit. Matt had dragged him up out of the dog beds twice now.

He informed Peter of the damaged elbow and got nothing but keyboard smashes in return.

This was followed by Sam stumbling out of his room and half up the stairs to make pitiful sounds when he couldn’t make them stay still long enough to climb the rest of them. Foggy shook his head and told Matt to go “strap that kid to the bed, for god’s sake. He’s gonna tear more stitches. And go text for him before he drops his phone again.”

Sammy was coming along great.

He held his phone out to Matt when Matt came down to stand over him on the stairs.

“They’re yellin’,” he slurred.

Yeah, Matt figured.

“Bed,” he said.

“It’s too hot,” Sam said.

No, pathetic ball of humanity. That was the fever, bud.

“Open the window,” Matt said.

“I have a window?”

Bless.

“Up you go,” Matt said.

“DON’T TOUCH ME. Nooooo. Teach, noooooo.”

---

MM: Peter stop texting him. he can’t read his texts rn. Zero tolerance for opioids.

PP: for WHAT

MM: he’s fine. lightly stabbed. Fractured elbow.

MJ: MATT

MM: yes?

MJ: tell him to get better for us

NL: ;__; please?

MM: he will be fine. He’s supposed to be sleeping this off.

MJ: can you keep us updated?

MM: why

PP: he’s our partner?

MM: ?

MM: I thought he was Ned’s main

NL: AJDF:AKSDFJASDFa

NL: DOES HE TALK ABOUT ME??

MJ: dude

NL: my b my b sry sry

NL: does he talk about me DD?

MM: no

NL: cool cool cool that’s fine

PP: ned

NL: it’s casual that’s cool

MJ: oh my god

NL: it doesn’t mean anything. That makes sense.

MM: peter what is happening?

PP: ned has decided that no texting means that sam hates him and no longer wants to be part of our relationship

NL: TELL HIM IM SORRY

PP: remember how you told me I have rejection issues?

MM: Ned he’s fine. He’s not mad. He’s high.

NL: [pikawat.png]

MJ: *coughs*

NL: oh shit my bad. I mean.

NL: what do you mean?

MM: I mean he likes you. He just hates talking about weaknesses. Ergo he hates talking about you.

MJ: ah, yes. I see now. The superhero logic. The forest has reappeared before me.

NL: OWO

MM: what does this mean?

PP: it’s a face. Like a super interested cat

NL: shut up

NL: so he likes me back?

MJ: no

PP: no

MM: I presume so? I don’t know kid. I just said he doesn’t talk about it.

NL: DD I will pay you in computer repairs to find out for me

MM: to find out if Sam likes you??

NL: yes

MM: what part of his obsession is confusing you

MJ: ASHDAF:SDF

PP: harsh

NL: all of it.

NL: okay so here’s the thing. We got like, matchy matchy stuff, right? Cause that’s what couples do. But he never wears his?? And like, we’ve been playing these games online, like, trying to beat each other, but he just stops playing halfway through? And if we’re watching a movie, it’s fine for the first half, but then he gets quiet and I just end up nattering away about nothing for like an hour and I can’t read the silence DD. I can’t read it. And Peter’s a liar

PP: okay no it is WELL established that I can’t lie what are you even talking about

NL: and he keeps going on about how sam’s shy, but he’s NOT shy. And we were fine until this week, but like, obviously, he’s high and not reading his messages and stuff, but idk am I making this into a big deal? From your end?

MM: What was that face, Peter?

PP: OwO

MM: OwO

MJ: ASDFAeirwieawewdflajwe

MJ: NED LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO THE OLD MAN

NL: SHUT UP. DD, please. Help me. Should I apologize? Is he bored of me? Does he want more time with Peter?

PP: what

PP: no pal I’m just a piece of ass in this situ

MJ: as you should be

PP: awwww

MM: ned Sammy’s fine?

NL: omg ‘sammy’ that’s really cute do you think he’d mind if I called him that? You know. If he ever speaks to me again?

PP: DD just tell him everything is fine so we can all go to sleep without being woken up every 20 min for a crisis.

MM: I literally don’t know. He doesn’t talk about any of you.

NL: can you sneaky-ninja ask him?

Matt could not with these children. Sam’s heartbeat was evening out. He was nearly back to sleep. Matt’s back couldn’t take hauling him up off the stairs in another half an hour, so he was going to stay right where he was, that was for damn sure.

“Samuel, you are dating three different flavors of spazz,” he told him.

Sam wriggled over and snuffled into his duvet.

Matt decided that that was an affirmative.

MM: he says you’re all dramatic and to leave him alone to sleep.

NL: ;__;

PP: ned that is not rejection

NL: ok

MJ: this is embarrassing

NL: I’m just gonna crawl under the floorboards and waste away👍

PP: for fuck’s sake this is me-levels of drama

NL: DD can you tell him that if he’s ever down to just watch shit as friends that’s okay too?

MJ: NED. Matt’s literally out of this loop. And Sam’s probably unconscious.

MM: can confirm is now unconscious. I am exiting your drama.

PP: Dude remember when I said I was gonna drown myself in the sea? You are reaching those levels

NL: I JUST LOVE HIM

Oh, aw.

NL: And it’s okay if he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s okay, I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t like uncomfortable. I can text him less and let him do his work things and we don’t have to organize shit on the weekends. It’s totally fine

These fuckin’ kids.

Matt grabbed Sam before he cracked his head against the wall and felt around for something to put between his forehead and it.

He fumbled out his phone in the meantime.

“Samuel,” he said into it, “When you wake up, come upstairs before taking the next pill.”

---

Sam was in pain and grumpy as shit and his mood did not improve as he read through Matt’s messages.

“Two days and everyone loses their goddamn minds,” he said.

Pretty much.

“Ned loves you,” Matt teased.

“Ned needs one of those happy pills,” Sam deadpanned.

Hm. How about no?

Sam groaned and carefully melded himself to the table.

“Why don’t you wear the matchy-matchy stuff?” Matt asked, setting a bag of icy water on Sam’s shoulders. He made a soft sound of relief.

“I don’t want to get ‘em dirty,” Sam hummed.

Hm.

“Maybe if you wore them out a little bit, Ned would like that,” Matt offered.

Sam mulled this over.

“Nah,” he said. “I’ll just tell him I wear it to sleep.”

Matt was so proud.

He missed Foggy coming in halfway through that discussion.

He did not miss the lecture Foggy laid on both of them about lying to loved ones.

---

Matt decided that Sam was far, far more emotionally repressed than he’d given the kid credit for. He was tickled pink.

Kirsten and Foggy were not. They called this ‘concerning behavior’ that needed ‘to be monitored in case of hidden injuries and self-harm.’

And like, man, it was as if they’d hard experience with this shit or something.

Matt decided to bypass their waffling and cornered Sam by trapping him in his duvet and demanding to know if he was hiding any injuries or self-harm.

Sam told him to get out of his room. His heartbeat did not react to the accusations, but rather to Matt’s ‘giant, heavy, albatross body’ assaulting him in his safe place.

Matt decided that this was proof that the emotional repression was, as he had always argued, doing exactly what it needed to: making Sam three times more functional as a human being.

Foggy took from that explanation that Matt was lying to him again.

Which, like, obviously.

But did Foggy need to know any of that?

Fuck no.

Only happy times with Matt Murdock here.

Smiling was somehow the wrong answer.

Smiling resulted in yelling. And then lots of loud heartbeats. And then something that looked a little like a fight, probably, to people with working eyes. But Matt knew that it wasn’t that.

It was just Foggy being hurt that Matt couldn’t tell him that Foggy’s homesickness was digging holes in his own resolve and mental wellbeing.

Sam popped up when Foggy went to go lay down to calm down and asked if everything was okay.

Matt told him it was.

Sam’s heart was not convinced. It started beating faster somehow.

Matt fully anticipated the texts that arrived later that night.

---

PP: yo DD, you guys okay?

MM: why

PP: ‘cause Sam’s freaking out saying that you and Foggy were shouting again?

MM: ah

MM: no we’re okay. No biggie

PP: I smell bullshit

MM: carry on smelling then

PP: Matt do you ever think about how you’re like, an example to us all of how not to live?

MM: beg your pardon?

PP: I just mean like, you do shit and we all learn from your shit. Like, every day.

MM: ?

PP: Sam like dumped a pile of lies he’d been telling Ned in his lap and started crying for like half an hour and apologized for another 40 minutes and then hung up and won’t answer his phone.

MM: what was that face again? The cat one?

PP: OwO

MM: OwO

PP: lol

---

The apprentice was perhaps absorbing too much too fast. He flat out denied having had any emotional crisis.

His heart was dead even when he said it. He was getting too good at out-maneuvering that trick.

“Peter seems to think that you had one the other night,” Matt mused.

“Peter needs to mind his own business,” Sam sniffed.

Aha.

“You like Peter,” Matt pointed out.

“He’s fine,” Sam said.

“Fine or fine?”

“That’s nasty, Teach. Don’t be gross. That’s like your little brother.”

Oh, sure it was.

“If Peter is sussing out your lies, you’re not doing a good enough job,” Matt said. “What you need, kiddo, is an aura and a starting point.”

Sam paused in making a horrible grating noise with some tool in his hand.

“A starting point?” he asked.

Why yes, apprentice.

As in, if you start off with your walls up and don’t let them buckle so easily, so many of these problems can be avoided.

“Isn’t that, like, the opposite of what Foggy said to do?” Sam asked suspiciously.

Well, technically. The husband might be correct for normal humans, but they weren’t normal humans. And as much as Matt loved him and thought he was brilliant, Foggy would never truly grasp that Matt needed those lies.

He needed the repression. The bottling. The anger.

He needed all that shit to be shaken up in him and then capped by the helmet every night.

Doing that kept Matt safe. It kept others safe.

It wasn’t fun and it wasn’t pretty and yeah, Matt was pretty fucked up because of it.

But Stick hadn’t been wrong about everything.

Not even he could be wrong about everything.

“It’s called balance,” Matt said. “Think about it like this. You’re a teacher. You’re about to walk into a new class. You need to establish a respectful relationship between yourself and these kids. How do you do it? Do you start off nice? Or do you start off strict?”

Sam said nothing.

“I start off strict,” Matt said. “Because it’s infinitely easier to become nicer and to keep respect than it is to start off nice and get meaner.”

Sam processed this.

“This sounds like an anti-Foggy sentiment,” he said.

No. It wasn’t anti-Foggy. Nothing was anti-Foggy.

“It’s nuance,” Matt said. “Intrapersonal relationships? Minimal repression. Interpersonal relationships, maximum repression. Don’t give them something to use against you”

Sam’s teeth clicked together as he worked his jaw.

“Talk to Ned and Peter,” he said. “Walls up to everyone else.”

Everyone else. Yes.

“I can do that.”

Yeah, Matt knew. Sam did it to pretty much anyone he didn’t immediately take a liking to at the firm.

“I can do that,” Sam repeated.

Woah. Wait. Hold on there, slugger. Nuance, remember?

“I’m just gonna hate the entire world,” Sam said. “Thanks, Teach. That’s a big help.”

---

PP: Matt

MM: Peter

PP: you know that Sam fucks with you daily right?

MM: …I forget sometimes

PP: lol you guys are funny

That little shit. Fine.

Do whatever. See if Matt cared.

Goddamn kids and their goddamn love affairs.

Whatever. Fuck ‘em.

Let them learn the bullshit on their own time. Matt had better things to do.

---------------

Matt and Foggy and Kirsten have their own polycule goin on with folks entering and leaving it as need be. And sometimes you just have to make Sam/Ned content because it is unerringly adorable.

#ficlet #samuel chung #matt murdock #ned leeds #inimitable verse #but this isn't canon to the verse I'm just fuckin around #fic #don't mind me #just having a ball #how does one make a category on Ao3 that is just like I accidentally made my own spiderman verse #and now I want to write stories using those characters but not in that main arc #I JUST WANT TO PLAY IN THAT SPACE YALL

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years ago

Note

For the OTP ask: 8, 9, 16, 53, and 91 (for this one, it could just be a song you have for them, too) :D

*rubs palms together and giggles* Oooo, I'm loving these questions! I get to show how much of a nerd am I for these two nerds! >:3

8. Who tends to worry the most?

I was going to answer this with 'both equally', but the more I think, the more I realize that Solas is the one who worries the most. XD

I mean, come on. We all know Solas is a natural worry wart. It's in the man's blood, and Fane has a tendency to make his dear wolf's blood pressure rise to fatal heights with the shit he does. PFFT!

Fane is a literal battering ram when it comes to battles (this is based on how I've specced him in-game), and he just charges in without caring if he'll get sliced, diced, or scorched. Fane's illness with magic makes it incredibly difficult for Solas to erect barriers on him, so he has to devise other ways to keep Fane in one piece (nitpicking about his armor, constantly asking, 'Are you certain you are ready?', and begging, 'Please control yourself this time, ma'isenatha.') All of that worry comes from the fact that Solas has seen Fane die, has had to guide him to it, even. Fane doesn't mean to brush off that concern and worry, but when he's embroiled in battle he...loses his senses a bit. Dragons aren't meant to fight, and fighting is what Fane does best in his new life, so he has a hard time balancing bloodlust with merciful restraint.

If Fane gets injured (which he does, but only grazes and the occasional gash), Solas won't let anyone else attend to him, fear gripping his mind, memories of blood soaked crystal and decaying scales cracking his mask and rendering him tortured. When Fane sees that, instead of just seeing the nagging, he'll go docile, go remorseful and will say, 'I'm sorry, my sky. I never meant to-- I only--hn.' Once they talk and wind down though, things get right back on track, but Solas is constantly worrying over his dragon--constantly.

Solas worries about everything with Fane--his scars, his nightmares, his battle with his identity--but battle is where he's the least reserved in it. He doesn't want Fane to have to fight, but he knows they both don't have a choice in the matter.

9. Who is more inclined to be jealous or possessive?

Dragons--naturally possessive, i.e. hoards.

Wolves--naturally protective of those within their pack, i.e. touch member of pack, you get snapped at or even bitten.

Fane and Solas are both highly protective of one another. They just go about it in different ways. Fane's more likely to snap and glower at an infringing form, making it known where they can take their 'affections'. Solas is more reserved, but most can attest that his gaze leaves them shivering and near stone with how cold it is if Fane is randomly touched by an unwanted suitor or harassed by a fawning noble. Obviously, Fane and Solas try to keep the respective beasts at bay, worried the other will think less of them for such childish behavior, but sometimes--sometimes--it's extremely hard to keep a polite mask in place due to memories of harshness and filth.

For example!

---

"You're...jealous?", Fane asked, blinking and attempting to piece together what he was feeling now. And he couldn’t. “Of who?”

Solas' eyes fell shut with a rueful chuckle. "Most here. Is that hard to believe? It is petty, I know, but eyes have been upon you since your entrance; each pair a set of daggers. You carried yourself with confidence, with pride, and every single noble within the ballroom responded to your very presence. They whispered, they sought, they undressed." The final word a mixture between a hiss and a growl that was accompanied by a small sneer of disdain before it all relaxed. "My heart knows where your own lies, my dragon, but my mind, too, is being a thorn in my side."

Fane stared down at Solas, shocked and...mesmerized. His sky had been jealous of the looks of fops and prisses? Those who had no chance of ever reaching through to his heart? To his emotions? Those who played with lives as a puppeteer did with strings?

This was...oddly amusing, but only because they were both fools.

Here they were, in the lion’s den, hunting an assassin that threatened to topple an empire, seeking answers to questions they didn’t even know yet, playing a game of macabre chess and deciding who would rise and who would fall, and they were both jealous from nattering nobles who killed for sport or an inconsequential servant girl that would be forgotten in the morn. The ridiculousness nearly made Fane cackle. Was this what court intrigue encompassed? He didn’t see the appeal.

Fane huffed out amusedly. "I love you.", he said, point blank with no room to be denied. “Ar lath ma, ma tarasyl.”, he repeated in Elvhen, lifting a hand to rub at his face and shook his head in disbelief at himself.

Solas’ eyes snapped open at his declaration, a blush stretching across his face and was apparent even in the shadows that embraced them. That swath of delicate pink nearly had Fane cracking, breathing out a steadying sigh through his nose instead. Damn anything that was holy, if poison didn’t kill him, this endearing, foolish elf would. How could he be so blind when responses like that reaffirmed where his sky’s heart lay?

“Sorry, it’s just..”, Fane started before letting out a tiny laugh, massaging his cheekbones in slow circles. “You looked so ashamed by how you felt, even though I just said I felt the same way. If anything, I should feel ashamed because I’m jealous of someone far more innocent than these Orlesian pricks.”

Solas tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “May I know who you were jealous of?”, he inquired.

Fane let out an airy laugh, kneading his brow with two fingers. “The servant girl that just left not even five minutes ago.”, he admitted, face growing hot with shame and embarrassment. He was such a fool. A pathetic, blind fool.

“The servant--?”, Solas began before letting out a quiet, breathless laugh of his own. “Ma’isenatha, you are aware that we are at court, at the heart of Orlais, yes? Appearing gentile and cordial is but a step in a very specific dance. My reactions to her were equal parts genuine and fluid, and I felt nothing beyond that.”

Fane huffed, letting his hand fall to his side. “I know, but it’s like you said, just the sight of another making reaches for someone you fought for, someone you adore and respect is infuriating. I just got you back and to have it taken away again is--”, he tried to explain, lifting his hand back up to rub at his face again. “Fenhedis lasa. A fucking smile sent my mind spiraling. Ridiculous..”

---

Halamshiral was fun! :D

16. Do they enjoy dancing?

Fane is the guy who stands in a dark corner at parties, and glares at everyone who tries to get too close, soooo...no. PFFFT!

However, if it were just he and Solas in their quarters, a light of levity possessing them, then he might be willing to let the other teach him steps that weren't able to be done by massive claws. The Winter Palace is the one time Fane takes the initiative and actively offers Solas his hand for a dance--all grace and poise unlike that of a dragon.

...The finery didn't fall fast enough that night for Solas. *is SLAPPED*

And I like to think Solas secretly yearns for such simple pleasures as a waltz or ginger circle, swaying to the music, time seeming endless once more. He misses what was before, and maybe just a tiny step can make him feel a little less lost. :3

53. Who is the better dancer?

Solas. 100%.

Fane is graceful in battle, able to shift his weight and glide with the flow of blood and chaos. But the more delicate arts--that of dancing? Yeah, no. My boy's prone to step on someone's toes and curse for them because 'A dragon? Dancing at court? Void take me..' Vivienne and Josephine had to let Solas teach Fane how to dance because he was so against the idea that he would lock himself in their quarters and refuse to entertain the two women. Solas has a hard time, but with Leliana's help, they manage to get Fane to see he does have a certain knack for the finer things. *winks*

Honestly, Solas is shocked at the Winter Palace when he sees Fane dancing with the Duchess because...he moved as if from memory, and not the one's of stumbling, cursing, and heavy sighing as legs tripped up and toes were stomped on.

Fane moved like an Evanuris--those attuned to the ancient courts with a charming smile in place to match. *sips my tea* Exquisite~

91. What is their song?

So, if I do like the implications that 'Once We Were' gives, and Solas and Fane like more gentle songs like that.

But me, personally? I adore 'Red Like Roses' from RWBY for these two. It just hits a lot of key points for me about them, but I seriously have to get a playlist together since so many songs make me thing of these two. 'Bad Habits' by Ed Sheeran is one that makes me think of them, too. Mainly Fane, but some parts fit for them together. *urge to compose a playlist intensifies*

Thank you so much for the ask, my friend! These were a lot of fun ones! But then again, all of them are! X3

#asks #ask #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #dragon age #ngl i'm getting antsy to divulge EVERYTHING with fane #fanfic or no! XD #but i must be STRONG *shakes fist*#*starts to hum 'once we were'*#i love the tavern songs so much ;3;#solas aka mr. old man worry X'D #thank you so much again! <3

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

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Embers - male dragon shifter x reader) Part Two (sfw)

(this is supposed to be going up every Friday, but I was a dumbo yesterday and forgot, so here it is, a day late and with my apologies!)

Here's Chapter Two for you, in which we find out our dragon shifter’s name (pronunciation at the end if you’re curious). And Frankie speaks with a heavy Welsh accent.

I was trying to keep each chapter to under 1000 words, but that didn't work out so well for this one. It's nearly 2000 words. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!

A phone call from a number you didn’t recognise interrupted your quiet Friday evening, and you answered with some trepidation. Usually it was marketing calls at this hour, and nothing was guaranteed to make you lose your shit quicker than someone phoning up to sell you double glazing or, even worse, to try and scam you out of your life savings.

This time, however, a bright and bubbly voice with a lilting accent asked, “Hiya, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, but you gave my friend your number in the hopes of finding a flute teacher?”

“Oh my god!” you blurted, nearly dropping the phone. “Yes! I didn’t think he’d actually pass it on. Thanks for calling.”

The laugh that trilled out of the person on the other end was more like a bleating giggle, and it was then that you remembered that the teacher was a faun. “No problem! My name is Frankie, by the way, and I’ve actually got space to take on a new pupil at the moment. If I got it straight it’s your niece?”

“Yeah, she’s six.”

“Ok, if you could maybe tell me a bit about her and what level she’s at, that might help me plan a bit, but we could set up a trial lesson - free of charge - and go from there?”

“Perfect. As for her level, she’s brand new. She’s wanted to play the flute for a long time, but she’s only six and my brother couldn’t really afford lessons until now.” As a single father, a widower, your brother did his absolute best for his little girl, and with no kids of your own, you stepped in to help quite a lot. “She’s bright and a quick learner, though she’s not particularly verbal. She’s always been drawn to music though; I think it’s a half-siren thing…”

“Yeah, that’ll be it!” he chuckled. “As long as she’s going to listen to me, that’s a good place to start from; I don’t need her to recite the Trollbridge Common Dictionary as well. I teach up at Mikaeïl’s house - he lets me use the music room free of charge.”

You frowned in confusion. “Mikaeïl?”

“The red-headed, starched-shirt-wearing, giant nerd-bag you met in the coffee shop,” he grinned and you snorted your tea nearly out of your nose.

“Oh my god.”

“Right? I mean, Kaeïl is an absolute marshmallow on the inside, I promise, but he comes across as a complete arsehole, doesn’t he? Anyway, back to the flute lessons. You let me know some dates when she’ll be free to come over, I’ll give you the address, and we can see how we get along. Texting is better for me as I’m usually teaching during the day.”

“Sounds good,” you said, and began to arrange the rest with Frankie.

Afterwards you did a quick internet search and found him easily enough. He was apparently well known, both as a teacher and a soloist, and he and the quintet did a number of local concerts too. You couldn’t resist zooming in on a few photos which also had Mikaeïl in. God, he had amazing bone structure, but he definitely had one severe case of resting bitch-face for sure. He wasn’t smiling in any of the photos and he looked severe, and untouchable as a hot coal.

Satisfied that Frankie was the genuine article, you called your brother and fixed a date to take her to the address Frankie had given you.

The next Friday, you picked Celia up from school while her dad took the night shift at work. The hours weren’t great, but it meant he got slightly better pay. Plus it meant that you got to have Celia for the night, and that was always fun. She was intelligent and creative, if quiet, and after dinner the two of you usually watched a film together or read if she didn’t feel like watching anything. You knew she missed her siren mother dearly, and her death had almost destroyed your brother. You and he were all the family she had now; her own grandparents had wanted nothing to do with a half-breed human.

You found Mikaeïl’s place easily enough, and as the enormous gates swung open for you, drove your rather shoddy car along the mile-long gravel driveway through gorgeous parkland and up to a frankly ridiculous mansion on the outskirts of Old Trollbridge. You barely restrained yourself from cursing out loud. The place was insanely beautiful.

Celia had her hands pressed up against the car windows, mouth open. “My teacher lives here?” she asked.

“It’s the house of his friend,” you said, trying to sound unfazed and unaffected by the grandeur. Mikaeïl must be a very wealthy person indeed.

You parked up outside and Celia hopped out, piercing eyes gazing up at the warm, sandstone facade of the building with its many sash windows and ornate architectural details. Her dusky brown wings - small for a siren her age, but then again she was only half-siren - were flexed slightly, as though she planned on flapping up to get a closer look at the carvings above the door, but you took her hand before the thought got any further, and led her to the front door, her brand new flute in your other hand.

It took a while for someone to come to the door, but when it was answered, you were surprised to find that it wasn’t some servant or butler in fancy livery, but it was Mikaeïl himself. You recognised him instantly, and he looked at you from behind his circular, gold-rimmed glasses with the same, piercing gold eyes. Despite the colour, they were cold and unsmiling. Beside him, in complete contrast in every way, stood a very short, slightly stocky figure with the white, woolly lower half of a satyr. He wore a thick, dark green, knitted jumper despite the warmth of the day, and he had massively thick, curling horns that coiled around his ovine ears. His curly hair was cut relatively short, and matched his white legs in colour.

He extended a hand to you as Mikaeïl stepped back silently and disappeared into the shadows, and he bleated, “Hi! I’m Frankie. And you must be Celia,” he added, turning his dark eyes to her. “Nice to meet you. Would you like to come in?”

She nodded shyly, and you ushered her inside in front of you. Frankie’s big cloven hooves clopped loudly on the marble entrance hall, and Celia gasped as she took in the beautiful, sweeping staircase that curled up the cylindrical walls of the drum-like entrance hall that was capped with a coffered dome.

“It’s quite something, isn't it?” Frankie said conspiratorially to her, and she nodded again. “Come on, let me show you guys the music room. It’s got the loveliest piano. This way.”

Mikaeïl had all but vanished.

Nattering constantly, Frankie led you away down a light, airy corridor with gold and cream silk wall hangings and 18th century landscape paintings on one side and a gallery of windows overlooking the gravel driveway on the other, and into an equally beautiful space. Somehow, despite the obvious wealth, the music room was tasteful and bizarrely modest. Yes, that was an original Steinway, and yes, there was a crystal chandelier - relatively small, but still - in the centre of the moulded-plaster ceiling, but the huge windows looked out onto a private terrace and parkland beyond, and it had the feeling of a well-used, well-loved, functional room.

Celia was utterly entranced. Her wide eyes took it all in and you stood there dumbstruck as well.

Eventually, however, you both got over it, and Frankie brought over a very ordinary, metal music stand and parked his behind on the piano stool with a grunt. “Right,” he grinned and she giggled slightly. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” He pulled out his own flute from its case and showed her how to align the sections of her own correctly.

You sat at one side of the room, but you realised quickly that Celia kept looking over to you before she spoke, so you said, “Celia, I think you might learn better if I wait outside. How would that be?”

She nodded and you knew her well enough to see that she wasn’t worried, and Frankie shot you a smile and a nod. “We’ll be about another half an hour,” he said quietly.

With that, you left, and wandered up the corridor and back into the entrance hall.

You took your time in the corridor, admiring the paintings, and you were just looking up at the ceiling of the entrance hall again, marvelling at the artistry of the whole thing, when someone cleared their throat pointedly from the doorway to your left and you jumped.

“Can I help you?”

It was Mikaeïl. He was dressed in a smart shirt, with a black waistcoat and black trousers today, and his long red hair was tied back in a smooth ponytail that fell halfway down his back. His horns glinted in the low light, looking more like strangely-carved precious gems, flecked with gold, than keratin, and his eyes reflected oddly, like cat’s eyes in the dark.

“I…” you faltered. “I thought it best if I left them to it…” you said stupidly. He seemed to have the effect of draining your IQ to zero with just one look.

“So you took the liberty of roaming the halls of my home instead?” he said in a cold drawl.

“I… I’m not poking around,” you countered hotly, finding your words coming back to you. “I’ve only walked along the corridor!”

A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Would you like something to drink?”

His polite question caught you off guard, and you gave him a blank look. “I thought you were going to have your gamekeeper shoot me for trespassing…” you said dryly.

Mikaeïl barked a harsh but amused laugh, the rigid lines of his body softening just a fraction. “Not yet at least,” he said and turned his back on you.

Assuming you were meant to follow, you did.

Part Three

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

It’s pronounced ‘mick-eye-ill’ :)

#dragon shifter #dragon #dragon x reader #dragon shifter x reader #exophilia #dragon boyfriend #monster lover

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pilferingapples · 5 years ago

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TMA S2 Natter I guess!!

LORE LORE LORE LORE WHOOO

under the cut for massive major spoilers of course

- I’m really glad I’m binging this, it helps me remember things to have a big chunk of story and lots to pick up on all stacked together and reinforcing itself. I still have to check and double check the Fan Wiki for names here and there, when I hear someone I KNOW I recognize from earlier; I’ve inevitably run across some spoilers that way, thanks to the structure of the wiki, so I’m really glad I’m needing to do that less and less as the show goes on; I don’t think I had to check anything in the last ten episodes, thought I did still have to go to the wiki to get links to the Transcripts, because

- I find the tunnel-echo effects make the dialogue pretty unparseable no matter how loud I have the show, unfortunately. I could understand Michael,and not much else. (I mean,I could understand Michael’s voice, the Spiral’s motives and all are fairly opaque to me still.) The voices and acting lend so much ambiance, I would have been happy to watch along on the YT vid with subtitles , but it doesn’t have subtitles? Frustrating, but I do really appreciate there being transcripts!

- Michael makes me really, really sad. He was just a kid who stayed out in the rain a second too late! It wasn’t even his idea! And he got Marked and he lost his whole damn life to this thing before he was even old enough to have a good grasp on what reality is in the normal swing of things. Poor kid. Poor Michael-that-should-have-been. (ETA so I don’t answer this multiple times: I’m aware Lightning-and-Tower Michael might not be Hallways and Hands Michael, but this is just name-association, really. Also, there’s a growing horror in S2 in finding so many people who seemed to escape their encounters showing up again in much worse shape in other Statements...)

- Thanks to Tumblr Osmosis , I’m sure the Endgame OTP (at least so far) in Jon/Martin, and while I’m currently not a fan of that (though totally prepared to change my mind according to character/relationship development!) I am delighted to be able to enjoy Jon and Basira’s relationship without worrying that her character is going to be suddenly smashed flat to make her The Love Interest. I love their weird uneasy alliance! I hope she comes back but also hope she goes somewhere Far Away and lives Ordinarily Ever After.

-on that note, Daisy Daisy Daisy bring back Daisy, I don’t usually get into cop characters but WEIRD CRYPTID FORCE COPS are apparently a potential weakness for me (..also I know, I know they are probably Hunt-aligned. I’ve already said I’m unfortunately Weak for The Hunt ).

-I miss Actual!Sasha >:

- Tim is seriously the only person in this whole damn institute with any self preservation either supernatural or normal?? “Yeah you’re right I don’t like the boss who stalks me and keeps secrets about a situation which is directly about my own personal safety like I was the enemy and takes his trauma out on me directly while I’m recovering from,in this case , exactly the same trauma thanks “

Martin: Wow Tim you’re so selfish, how can you even think about fleeing our supernatural hellscape, why aren’t you more concerned with the guy who is very overtly considering you a potential enemy and crossing all boundaries in a way that, in any normal job, would right off be enough to get HR and maybe the cops involved? WHY ARE YOU BEING SO UNREASONABLE, TIM??...Now excuse me while I run to my probable death with no preparation in defense of a guy who seems to go out of his way to hit my very obvious emotional weak points and considered me so useless he thought I might be dead already, because unlike you I am making good decisions!!! LEEEROY JENKINNNSSSSS”

-honestly the apparent connection between why the Institute/Elias accepted Martin as sacrifice an employee and Martin’s emotional Everything is both screamingly apparent and worth an essay all on its own , that’s some Good Charactering

-I never trusted Elia-- Never Trust the Boss Of Shadowy Organization With Mysterious Backers, that’s my motto-- but HE KILLED THE INFODUMP SOURCE. HOW DARE. INSTANT LEAST FAVE.

- I KNEW LEITNER WAS A RESEARCHER I KNEW IT I KNEW IT, who has a vast occult library BUT never really figures in any accounts of actually DOING anything?? AN OCCULT NERD DOING RESEARCH. (I say, well aware that *I* did not do my research as fully as I’d like here, to avoid spoilers, and thus may be forgetting a Big Thing he apparently did)

- I did NOT know he was still alive?? and totally didn’t see him working with Gertrude (it was actually Gert’s Occult Book Hunting that made me slap my head and go OH RIGHT about Leitner!)

-I want to know more about Gertrude

- The OH NO moment I had during Leitner’s description of obvious multiple entities working together to just wreck his shop!! BAD, BAD, THE INJUSTICE LEAGUE OF AAAAAH IS BAD

- also now I know for sure that the Web and the Stranger are enemies? this puts at least 2/3 Fear Entities that could, I am aware , pretty much have me as a pawn for a cheap ice-cream cone allied against the one Entity that makes me absolutely go into Screaming Phobia Murder Mode, I don’t know if everyone’s feeling the same way or if this is just the show happening to find my particular keys like that

-...listen Elias is THE WORRRRSSSST and I am sure The Institute is Not Good but if The Stranger existed and was A Thing like this then they wouldn’t have to Play me to get my assistance on taking it out , every single episode about it makes me go Mad Raccoon in A Box , I want it gone, the enemy of the Stranger is my ...slightly less enemy

-Jonnycakes Sims is the Avatar of the Human Trainwreck, but I did not realize until this episode that he does not drink coffee?? I’m torn between thinking he should and thinking all caffeine should be taken away from him forever.

-Also, Dammit, Jonet, this “keeping info about supernatural horror schemes from my team For Their Own Good” nonsense? BAD , you are not a Victorian patriarch and they are not your children, GIVE THEM A FIGHTING CHANCE YOU GOOBER, DID YOU EVER READ ONE GOTHIC NOVEL, IGNORANCE IS DEATH

- ..HOW DID YOU DECIDE TO SMASH THE TABLE YOU. GOOBER PIE. I take it back, definitely Jonny needs to drink all the more caffeine.

--in conclusion, ELIAS TOOK MY LORE HOOKUP AND HE MUST PAY FOR HIS CRIMES.

(Supplemental:P)

I'm getting the impression, from responses to my earlier little post, that people don't? like Tim ?? and I am Afraid this means he is Something Horrible?? but he's fun and friendly and smart and reacting like a human with normal human self-preservation instincts + a touch of Heroic honestly?? why do people not like Tim, is he a secret Horror, NO DON'T ACTUALLY TELL ME but D: NERVOUS NOW

#TMA natter #long post sorry #also not particularly focused I'm tired and wanting to hear S3 XD

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fatrainbowmermaidunicorn · 6 years ago

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PROMPT GAME #1

Totally unedited and I have to cut the storyline a little short, because well, its supposed to be a drabble. Ahahah ❤ and I decided to combine all promts you requested into one.

"Seriously Jeon? You have fucked everyone else and now you are finding girls in my home?" Y/N sighed and walked passed the shirtless male, grinnibg with his mouth full of cereal. Her cereal, in her house, using her bowl.

"Not my fault your roomate is hot," he winks, totally shameless about the fact that he and her so called roomate keep the whole house, specifically her, since shes the only other person in there anyway, awake all night, with their disgusting activities. Endless activities. "Cereal?"

Y/N rolled her eyes and grab the half eaten bowl and throw in the sink.

"No thanks, and thanks for offering, since that is my cereal in the first place. Now that you have disgraced this house, would you please get out so I can comfort my roomate when she realizes what an asshole you are and what a mistake she made?"

"Aww, come on Y/N why so grumpy? Someone not getting any?" Jungkook smirk, slipping on his shirt, thank god. He might be an asshole, but hes an asshole with a bod! And its hard to be snarky with his hard pecs staring back at her.

"Ive been getting plenty on my own, thanks," Y/N rolles her eyes again. "And I rather be dead than being with you in the same bed Jeon,"

"Oh come on Y/N, I know you wish I want you. Hey, maybe I do. Wanna gove it a try?" He winks, taunting her.

"Just get the fuck out Jeon," Y/N open the door and crossed her arms, waiting for Jungkook to walk himself out.

"Okay, okay, no need to be so hostile," he laughs and walks out. "See you babe. Just call me if you change your mind, I'll make time for you," he laughs before the door slammed at his back.

The rivalry between Y/N and Jungkook started so long ago that even Y/N cant remember how it even started or if its even relevant anymore. But what she knows is that she hates that fuckboy's guts. Walking around like he owbs the damn campus. Well, maybe it started whe Jungkook pull her braids at the playground when they were 5 or maybe it didnt. It doesnt matter anyway. What natters is that Y/N hates him.

Whole heartedly.

/////

"Ouch!" Y/N turns around as her hand hit a solid rock. A rock that makes a sound. Wait, what rock?

Theres an intruder in her bed!

Y/N freaks out and immediately sits up, a massive headache attacking her head like sharp needles before she takes in her surrounding.

This is not my room.

And I am definitely not alone.

Not just not alone... Y/N turns her head slowly and nervously to the side and screamed out when she sees Jungkook rubbing his head, evidence of being hit by her hand earlier, naked, only with a blanket covering his bottom half.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Geez woman, stop shouting. Its like too early for this," Jungkook rubs his eyes and yawns, totally unbothered by the fact that they are in bed together and naked.

"Get out! What are you doing in my bed?! What did you do to me?" Y/n starts hitting him.

"Yah! Stop it!" Jungkook catches her hands and hold it tight. "First of all, this is my bed. So the question you should ask is, what are you doing in my bed?" Jungkook smirked. "And second, you dont remember?"

"Remember what? What did you do to me?! I couldnt have done this on my own free will! Never!"

"Oh sweetheart, think it long and hard and maybe you will remember," he grins and lays back on the headboard, totally relax.

Y//N scrunched her nose, trying to remember, and slowly everything came back to her.

"I cant believe I missed the dateline for my Math project!" Y/N wailed to her friend. "Im so stressed oit. Urghhh!"

"Then I have good news my friend. Theres a party happening tonight, and I heard its gonna be big. Everyone is invited,"

"Then I'm in!"

"Wow, you are really stressed out. Nerdy Y/N saying yes to a party without hesitation? Amazing,"

/////

"Wow, never seen you at a party before," Jungkook grins towards Y/N as he sits on the kitchen counter of the packed house, a bottle of beer in his hand. "This is usually my forte,"

"Pissed off Jeon. Why are you everywhere," Y/N slurred, losing balance and almost fell if Jungkook didnt catch her.

"And definitely never seen you this drunk before," Jungkook helped to steady her. "Actually, I have never ever seen you drink, at all. Are you alone? Who did you come with?" Jungkook looked around, concerned etched on his face. "Lets just sober you up a little then I'll send you home okay?"

Jungkook held her shoulders and bring her upstairs, to his room. Its such luck that the party is being held at his frat house. His room is off limits to everyone, but this is an emergencu. Hes not going to leave Y/N downstairs to be taken advantage by all the guys at the party. He knows the guys. He is one of them. But he will never let anything happen to Y/N.

Not Y/N.

"Just lie down here. Ill take some water for you okay?" Jungkook places her on his bed, covering her with a blanket.

"Nooo, dont go," Y/N pulls him, making him fall on her and giggles. "Wow, you are so handsome," she traces his face with her fingers.

"You are definitely drunk Y/N," he laughs, he hinself a little tipsy.

"No, I am not. Hey Jeon... Why do I hate you again?" Y/N stares into his eyes, not letting her grip on him go.

"I-I dont know.." Jungkook whispered. He knows its wrong. Y/N is definitely drunk, and he himself is intoxicated. And they hate each other, dont they? Atleast thats what Y/N been telling him, but Jungkook hasnt been hating her for the longest time already. Its actually quite the opposite.

"Jungkook?"

"Y/N?"

And as Y/N pulls his face, connecting their lips together, the rest of the night is history.

/////

"Fucking. Hell..."

"So I take it you remember?" Jungkook grins.

"I was drunk! You took advantage of me!" Y/N screamed making Jungkook laughed. So dramatic.

"Me?! You are the one who make the first move! You took advantage of me! Besides, its not so bad. I made you feel good," he winks. "We both kinda win here,"

"Urghhh, shut up!" Y/N quickly stands up and collect her clothes which is strewn all over the room, hastily putting it on, all the while mumbling like crazy. "Not a word of this to anyone! Oh God, I cant believe this happened! I an serious Jeon, no word to anyone!"

Jungkook laugh and made a swear sign with his hand.

"I swear. I wont tell anyone. Although are you sure? I know you want to gloat on how good I made you feel," he laughs more.

"Shut the fuck up! Urghhhh," she threw a pillow to his head, missing him by an inch, making him laugh more as Y/N scurried away.

"Thanks for the night!"

"Fuck off!" Y/N screamed out and slammed the door, leaving Jungkook still laughing on the bed, mumbling to himself, smiling.

You are such a pain in my ass, it actually hurts to fucking love you Y/N. If only you knew how I feel.

/////

Eversince that fateful morning, it seems like Jungkook is everywhere. She cant seems to shake him away. Grinning, waving, annoying her...

Y/N never told anyone about that night of course. She doesnt want to be knows as another one of Jungkook's girls, or his latest victim. Jungkook is someone she despise and thats the extend of their relationship. And she would like to keep it that way.

But fate of course have another plan and her science teacher partnered her up with Jungkook, as part of the mentor - protege program hes trying. A good student oartnered up woth a less performing on, in hopes it could help each other. Worse, after weeks ignoring him and asking him to do his own thing, the class is assigned with a project, something Y/N could never run from. And that is how she is in the library, sitting beside a grinning Jungkook.

"We are finishing this project as fast as we can and thats it,"

"Oh come on Y/N. Cant we atleast be friends?" Jungkook grins, teasing her. "Afterall, you have seen me nak-"

"Shut up!" Y/N quickly covers his mouth. "What are you trying to do? Telling everyone we hooked up? It was a drunken mistake okay!"

Jungkook laughs and mumble to himself. So cute.

"What?"

"Nothing. I didnt say anything," he smiles and shrugs.

"Look Jungkook, I'm serious okay? This marks are important to me. Lets just do thia properly and be serious about it. I will divide the work load so we can do it on our own time and we can meet uo eve-"

Y/N was cut off when his lips landed on her and he grins.

"What the hell did you just do?!" Y/M hissed, looking around to see if anybody noticed. "Didnt I tell you just now? You cant just go around kissing people! I mean, I know you are a manwhore but thats not how the rest of the human world works! Stop being a-"

Another kiss.

"Jeon Jungkook!"

"I only kissed you because you were talking too much," he smile, bunny teeth showing, chin olaces in the palm of his hand that is laced together, looking at her.

"I-uh..."

"See, it works. You are finally speechless," Jungkook smile got wider. "Lets get to work shall we?"

/////

The project did bring Jungkook and Y/N closer together. They can be now considered somewhat... friends?

"So.. do you still hate me?" Jungkook asks as they are having coffee together after submitting their final project.

"Well.. hate is a strong word Jeon," Y/N smile. "And I think I am getting used to you. But I still dont like you," she giggled.

"Well, I'll take that," Jungkook smile. "Uh.. hey.. do you want to go to the dance with me?" His voice laced with nervousness.

Y/N was surprised by his question. Is Jungkook asking her out?

"I-I mean, as friends? To celebrate our new friendship?"

"Whatt? Does the great Jeon Jungkook has no date for the dance?" She laughs.

"Hey, I spend all my time doing this project with you. I got your nerd aura all over me okay," Jungkook smile. "So will you?"

"Yeah," Y/N smiles. "Yeah, why not,"

/////

"Hey Minji, I have to meet up with my professor, kts a last minute thing. If Jungkook came can you tell him to wait? Please?" Y/N shouted to her roomate as she rushed to the door.

"Jungkook? Wait, you are going to the dance with Jungkook?" Minji raised an eyebrow.

"Y-yeah. He asked me. Wait, you are okay with that right? You said hes only a one night stand right?" Y/N stopped in her tracks.

"Of course. It was a mutual understanding. Im only surprised because I didnt know you two still hang out. And he never brings a date to a dance. And dont you hate him or something?" Minji questioned, hands crossed on her chest.

"Well, lets just say hes changed," Y/N smiles. "My phone is out of battery but I'll be back in a jiffy. Let Jungkook know ok? Thanks, love you!" Y/N waves off and went out.

Lets just see if Jungkook truly changed Y/N-ah. A fuckboy will forever be a fuckboy. And if you think a nerd like you can chabge him instead of someone like me, you are dead wrong. Minji smirks.

/////

"Oh hi Kookie, what are you doing here?" Minji gave him a sultry smile as she opened the door to see Jungkook looking dashing in a tuxedo, flowers in hand. He even get Y/N her favorite. How tentative. Minji rolled her eyes.

"Im here to pick up Y/N. For the dance?" Jungkook smile.

"Oh no," Minji puts a hand on her chest, brows furrowing in sadness. "I am sorry to hear that, but Y/N left,"

"Left? But I'm her date?"

"Kookie, I am so sorry. I dont know how to say this. But she was so happy she managed to tricked you. She said its some kind of revenge and that you are stupid to believe she would actually be friends let alone go to the dance with you?"

"W-what? N-no. Y/N couldnt... could she?" Jungkook's face pained as the clutch on the flowers loosen and drop to the floor.

"I am so sorry..." Minji carressed his face. "But hey.." he pulls him to the sofa and scoot closer. "I can make you feel better and forget about her,"

/////

Y/N almost ran home. Shes ao excited and she needs to get ready, to look good for Jungkook. She dont know why she have to, but she just wanted to. And shes late.

She happily pushed open her door, a wide smile on her face, which immediately dissapear once she is greeted with the image of Jungkook being balls deep inside her roommate, on the couch... in the middle of the fucking living room. He cant even find the decency to take ger to the room atleast? Knowing she lives here too?

"W-what?"

"Y/N?" Jungkook was shocked and immediately pull out, scouring for his boxers and slipped it on.

"What the hell?! You cant even wait for a few minutes without fucking anyone?!"

"You bailed! I thought you left. And what do you care? Arent I just some kind of revenge?" Jungkook smirked.

"What are you talking about?! Bail?!I was meeting my professor! I told Minji this. To tell you! And what revenge?!"

"Wait, what?" Realization suddenly hits him as he turns to face Minji who is smirking. "You lied? You bitch!"

"Hey, dont be mad at me. If you can just keep it in your pants this wont happen," she shrugs. "Y/N, I am just trying to show you that fuckboys will never change. Just one lie and hes already fucking someone else! How can you be wih him?"

"Shut the fuck up you lying manipularive bitch!" Jungkook yelled at her, trying to control his temper. But he knows Minji is not important right now. Y/N is. "Y/N listen to me, I can explain. Minji.. she said-"

"It doesnt matter Jungkook. Minji is right. Just one lie from her is all it needed for you to start sleeping with someone else?"

"Y/N, no. Its not like that. I was hurt. I was-"

"Save it Jeon," Jungkook stopped at the nickname. It felt so cold. He took a step forward, lurching for her arm but Y/N pull back immediately.

"Stop. Fucking. Touch. Me!" Y/N yelled. "Minji is right. Fuckboy never changed, get out Jeon,"

"Y/N-"

"Why should I care anyway right, we are just friends," Y/N angrily wipe her tears. "Maybe not even friends," she stormed off into the room, slamming the door, leaving Jungkook to pick up the pieces of broken heart.

/////

"Go away!"

"I am going to annoy you, follow you around until you talk to me. Until you forgive me. I dont care what it takes, or who knows how desperate I am!" Jungkook followed her around like a pupoy around campus for a whole three months now. Never once did he gives up. Y/N has finally had enough. The whole campus heard about how Jeon Jungkook, the campus player is now whipped and chasing some nerd. Y/N cant already tolerate the endless flowers, chocolates, gifts, texts and phonecalls that he sent everyday, but following her around, all day and all night? For three whole month? Its too much.

"Why wont you give up?! We were not even friends to begin with!"

"I am never giving you up. Ever!"

"Seriously. Why?! The fuck, why?!" Y/N has reached her limit, screaming in the middle of campus to the campus player, not caring to maintain her cool anymore.

"Fine, you wanna know so bad? Its because I fucking love you L/N Y/N! I have love you for so many years eventhough you hated me! And now that I have the chance to be in your life I am not gonna let some manipulating bitch ruined it for me! I want you and I am not gonna stop until I get you!" Jungkook's chest heaved from his confession. "Got your answer now?"

"N-no," Y/N shakes her head, eyes searching his. "It cant be. We hated each other!"

"I dont. I never did. I dont even know why you hate me? Ia it because I pulled your braids when we were 5?" Jungkook smiles. "That just means I like you Y/N. And I have never stopped since,"

"B-but all the girls you have been with? You are the campus player!"

"Its only to get you attention," he bunny grins. "I gor your attention when I slept with your roommate and I have stopped ever since Y/N. Please, believe me. I love you,"

"B-but-"

"Please Y/N," Jungkook kneeled down and hold her hands, in the middle of the busy campus. "I wont stop until you say yes. I will follow you. I will tell you everyday I love you. I will call you, text you, I wi-"

Y/N cuts him off by pulling him up, grinning, tears in her eyes.

"Serioualy Jeon, you are so annoying,just kiss me already," she grins, hands holding the back of his neck, making Jungkook smile with his bunny grin, love in his eyes.

"With pleaseure my love,"

#writing prompt #bts drabble #prompt game #bts #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #kpop #kpop scenario #kpop fanfic #bangtan

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bowieandqueen11 · 6 years ago

Text

Can I stay? / Tim Murphy x Reader

Prompt: Hi my love! Could you write a Tim Murphy x reader fic where the reader is his assistant and he just falls completely in love with her but he’s scared to make a move, but then she gets upset over something (maybe she finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her?) and just cuddles Tim and he confesses?

Heya @rogerina-owns-me omg I’m sorry this took so long but hopefully this can help both of us when we’re staying in bed XD

‘Don’t you find it boring wearing only two colours, Mr Murphy?’ Tim titters to himself slightly, finding himself unable to pull his eyes away from the small nest of dinosaur eggs that crackle slightly under the hot neon lights, their creamy brown shells cracking slightly on top of the nestled straw. His doe eyes widen nervously, slight sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead like rain drops which he reaches up to swipe away. Fear and curiosity cloud his vision, anxiety whirling around his brain as his stomach starts to flutter, events of the past coming barrelling into his brain as Dr Wu laughs lightly next to him.

‘Really, don’t you own anything else other than a blue shirt?’ Tim peels himself away from the tiny claws that start to emerge from the creamy shell, his mood instantaneously cheering up as his mind finally acknowledges your familiar teasing, a warm smile tugging at his lips as his hand releases its white knuckle grip on the steel bar set in front of the incubator, twisting his torso away to face you. He blushes slightly at your cheeky grin, a mixture of heat and nerves swirling over his cheeks like lava as he watches you step towards him, admiring how your pony tail swishes like gold under the light, how you manage to always coordinate your outfit each day so that it hugs your curves and adds a splash of much needed colour to his intense life. Coughing lightly, he pulls his eyes back up from following your lips, starting slightly as he realises he’s been caught staring.

‘I don’t know, y/n, don’t you ever get bored always staring?’

You shake your head slightly, your feet echoing throughout the silent room as you hand him his clipboard, gazing slightly around the denim shirt that flows lightly around his white cotton shirt to watch with tense curiosity the number of scientists and mathematicians that have crowded behind Tim’s back like a swarm of bees, nervous nattering too fast to distinguish buzzing from their mouths in fast peels as Tim raises his eyebrows slightly, mouthing an over exaggerated ‘dinosaurs’. As you step back to look at him, your fingers letting go of the clipboard and falling back to your side, your mind whirring at the newest breakthrough, you’re completely unaware of the effect you had on Tim, his right hand coming up to rub the prickling goosebumps that litter his skin from your intimate touch, his slender fingers tingling and twitching slightly as if seeking yours like a beacon, hoarse coughs ruffling through his throat to try and regain his professional composure, but having absolutely no control over the redness that spreads over every inch of his skin and burns against the light scruff peppering his neck.

‘Are you alright, Dr Murphy, you seem a little faint?’ Tim shakes his head, managing a hoarse ‘I’m fine, thank you, y/n. Just...bad memories, I suppose. And please, what did I tell you, call me Tim. Mr Murphy makes me sound like an old man.’

You giggle lightly as his eyes widen again, a surprised chuckle escaping his lips to see that he could make you so happy. ‘At least it’s nearly lunchtime. If you don’t mind, Tim, I’ve been rereading your book and I’d love to discu-’ Your phone rings in your pocket, and you gasp a slight ‘one moment please Tim’ before walking out the door, not noticing Tim’s shoulders slump down slightly with a defeated sigh, his eyes turning down slightly as he realises he just let the perfect chance to ask the love of his life out on a date pass through his fingers like ripples of sand before turning back dejectedly to the others.

Stepping back into the building, carrying your favourite pastry in a slightly damp brown bag that crinkles with his heavy steps, Tim shakes his ginger locks slightly and lets the rain patter from their curls like dew drops as he goes looking for you, calling loud ‘y/n’s that echo through the cold tile walls and over hollow dinosaur bone exhibits as his steps become more impatient. Stopping slightly, he cranes his head forward, his eyebrows raising before furrowing slightly in confusion as he hears high breathless sobs and loud, hollow breathing come from the thick stairwell door. Pushing it open gently with his shoulder, slowly so as not to scare you, his eyes dim with sadness as he watches your shaking shoulders sit on the cold black steps, your arms wrapped around yourself as he runs over to sit by you, the bag collapsing to the floor like a deflated balloon as his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulder, rubbing gentle circle eights into your arm as you shake your head lightly, managing a stuttering ‘I’m sorry, sir, but that was my boyfriend and-’

‘He’s a jerk, don’t worry I get it,’ Tim says with a violent shake of his head, anger boiling and bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he wonders how anyone could ever want to hurt an angel like you. ‘But it’s Tim, y/n, remember, and you can always come to me, you know that.’ He tries to muster up a smile, his fringe falling gently over his sad eyes as he looks down at you, pulling you tight against his thumping heart as his breath warms the top of your shaking head, his large hand coming up to hesitantly smooth down and pat your hair.

‘If you want me to hack into his computer for sweet revenge-’

‘You are such a nerd’, you manage to giggle out between slight hiccups, tears dripping from your cheeks and landing with hot thuds onto Tim’s shirt, staining it slightly as he grimaces, his hands beginning to shake in fear of seeing you this way, his mouth twitching as his thumb runs down the dips of your face to clumsily wipe away the ones that fall from the corner of your eye.

‘I prefer master hacker, actually.’

You laugh against his chest, and as a warm feeling begins to blossom, covering the anger in his stomach and making his heart begin to swell up like a ship lost on a rocky sea, his chuckles begin to chime in with your own, his arms tightening around yours as he presses a gentle and loving kiss against your forehead, his nose bumping tenderly against your own. His breath shakes out as he stares into your glimmering eyes, your trying smile making his heart flips as his mouth blurts out of its own accord, ‘I’ve been in love with you for so long, y/n.’

His eyes widen like saucers at his sudden confession, his frame starting to wriggle uncomfortably as you stare up at him, your eyes narrowed, and he begins to panic at your lack of response. Just as he’s about to make up an excuse to get back to work, he freezes as your hands come up to cup his cheeks, his stubble itchy against your palms as his eyes dip like a lost puppy, searching yours for the answer as you reach up and press the most passionate kiss Tim Murphy has ever experienced in his life against his thin lips.

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dingletragedy · 6 years ago

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Teacher x teacher au

this is my shit!!!!

Aaron is a P.E teacher who loves physical activity and absolutely hates sitting at a desk. Robert is a history teacher, no, a history nerd, who adores reading and writing and never moving from his desk.

Aaron starts only a few weeks before Robert, Adam shows him the ropes, guides Aaron through his first few weeks of teaching. And then the job is passed down to Aaron - who rather enjoys having the duty of helping the newbie out.

Aaron likes Robert, a lot. They get on really well, the constant stream of banter and laughter flowing from the pair is enough to make Aaron’s stomach flip with something. He convinces himself it’s just because they’re both newbies, and newbies stick together, but it’s more than that, he knows it is.

They have a coffee together every single morning before registration, they usually meet in Robert’s classroom - the p.e office is always packed to the brim with way-too-excited adults first thing in the morning and they like the privacy Robert’s classroom offers.

Aaron soon learns that staffroom gossip is very much a real thing when he overhears Tracey and Leyla nattering away about Robert and the cookery teacher. Apparently, they’d been spotted heading into some fancy restaurant together over the weekend, Robert’s hand resting on the small of her back. And Aaron feels like a complete idiot doesn’t he? Because of course Roberts not interested in him. Or blokes at all.

Aaron avoids Robert for the next few days - there’s no coffee waiting on Robert’s desk in the mornings and no Aaron sat in his chair, feet up on the desk, complaining about all sorts at the end of the days. Robert wouldn’t admit it but he misses the little things more than anything.

Robert leaves it until Friday, wills Aaron to come to him first but he doesn’t and Roberts out of patience. So he goes to Aaron, he stops by Vic’s classroom to grab some cake and then knocks gently on his door. Robert notices he’s got a face on him still, but he’s polite enough to Robert - makes him wonder if Aaron’s just having a bad week and Robert was reading too far into things. That’s until Aarons mentioning Robert’s girlfriend, telling him what he overheard in the staffroom and Roberts laughing his head off. He’s eager to clear up the confusion, that the cookery teacher is, in fact, his sister, but there might be a certain teacher he has the hots for. He leaves Aaron with a knowing smirk and a kiss to his cheek.

Things resume as normal, Aaron’s back in Robert’s classroom come Monday morning, two hot steaming mugs of tea and a bacon cob in hand. By the end of the week, they’re going out for drinks with the rest of the non-boring teachers. Adam slopes off around 9, leaving them with a group of humanities teachers, so they make their excuses and head across the road for a pint on their own. The longer they spend together the more Robert realises just how much he likes Aaron - enough to take the leap and invite him back to his place.

They start officially dating 5 weeks after Robert’s first day, Aarons spent the night around his again - they’d already broken the rule of no sleepovers on a school night. Aaron’s rushing around the place, he’s packing up the overnight bag he’d brought with him and stressing about being late - Robert suggests he should just forget about the bag, leave all this stuff here and stay again tonight - tells him he’ll even clear a drawer or two out for him. When Aaron whispers the word boyfriend against Robert’s lips he just about melts under it.

Later in the day he Aaron overhears Tracey gossiping about Robert again, apparently, it was some tall, leggy blonde this time. He takes much pleasure in asking them to stop spreading lies about his boyfriend. It soon shuts them up. And Aaron realises just how much he likes that word - boyfriend.

The next evening, while he’s on his knees with Robert’s cock in his mouth, when he has another revelation - that he’s in love with Robert. He crawls his way back up Robert’s body with his mouth and tells him as much, is more than relieved when Robert repeats the three words back to Aaron.

extras because i love this au so much !!!!

It’s the anniversary of Gordon’s death, (Aaron had opened up to Robert about his past a few months ago, let Robert into the darkest corners of his mind) Robert tries to convince Aaron to take the day off but he’s having none of it. It’s during second period that Adam bursts into Robert’s year 10 class, demanding he goes down to the p.e block immediately while Adam covers his class. He knows what he’s looking for, finds Aaron hidden away in the boys changing rooms on the verge of a panic attack, he sits with him for as long as it takes, soothing words and gentle touches bring Aaron around after what feels like a lifetime. He tells the head that he’ll be taking Aaron home and both their classes need covering for the rest of the day, doesn’t stick around to hear what she has to say.

Sometimes Robert stands amongst the parents supporting the school football teams, he’s there under the false pretence that he loves watching his kids partake extra curriculum sports activities, but really he just wants to stare at Aaron’s arse in those tight shorts he wears.

One of the kids spots them together at the Christmas market in early December and the news spreads like a wildfire. They’d spoken about the possibility of the kids finding out, but the reality was much different. Aaron just fobbed them off with the threat of detention if they said another word of his love life, whereas Robert, he sat and answered the non-intrusive questions, proudly talking about his and Aaron’s life together

It’s during pride month the next school year that Aaron and Robert host a special assembly in front of the whole school. They spend weeks working on it at home, wanting to do it justice. They practice it in front of Liv - Aaron’s never been one to stand up and talk in front of people, but he knows with Robert by his side he can do just about anything. They present the LGBT+ history assembly, host a pride-themed non-uniform day, Vic bakes a rainbow cupcakes and cookies, and all the earnings go towards building a safe space for the kids how are struggling with their sexualities.

They are once caught making out in the English supplies cupboard by a very embarrassed Mr. Pollard.

It’s Robert’s Mum, Sarah’s, birthday and Aaron knows just how hard the day is for Robert. So he does something ridiculously romantic, he orders Robert some of what he knows were Sarah’s favourite flowers - has them delivered to Robert’s classroom on his lunch break. And Robert cries doesn’t he? Makes his way to the sports hall, pulls Aaron away from the kids who are distracted with a game of violent dodgeball and kisses him softly. They only pull apart when Adam rudely interrupts them, asking who exactly is keeping an eye on the year 7′s.

It all becomes very confusing for everyone when they become Mr & Mr Sugden-Dingle.

#i have a MASSIVE soft spot for teacher x teacher aus #asks #anon #robron

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vickypoochoices · 6 years ago

Text

A New Chapter part 8.

[MASTERLIST.]

Part 7 [B].

8 Years later.

'No way is Uncle Tyler the best, he's such a loser!'

'You only like Uncle Zack so much because he buys you toys to keep you sweet.'

'Uhh actually, he buys me toys because I'm his Godchild, and we all know that means I'm his favourite.'

'Oh whatever, keep your stupid toys. Next time you need help with your homework don't ask Uncle Tyler, I'll be telling him what you said.'

'Oooo I'm scared. You are such a suck up and a teacher's pet!'

'Now what's all this about you two?'

'Dadddyyyyyyyy!' The two girls squealed excitedly, both running over to Zig and clawing at his legs, desperate to be picked up.

Effortlessly he picked one up in each arm, holding them firmly to his chest as they both squeezed him, holding on tightly.

'You weren't arguing again were you?' He tried his hardest to make his tone stern, something he had always struggled with. His girls had him wrapped around their little fingers and they all knew it.

'Luna started it.'

'No you started it Louisa.'

'You're the one that said Uncle Tyler was a loser.'

'I wasn't starting anything, I was just telling the truth.'

Zig shook his head as he listened to the constant flow of snipes coming out of his daughter's mouths.

Luna was now 8. She was Zig's double look wise, but she had her mother's attitude. She was so sure of herself, confident and way more sassy than any other 8 year old he'd ever seen. Sometimes it felt like they were living with a full on teenager already.

Just two years separated Luna and her sister Louisa, and although they shared the same looks, that's where the similarities ended.

Often people mistook Louisa as being the older sibling, based purely on her personality. She was hands down the smartest 6 year old Zig had ever met. Her head was constantly buried in a book, she was top of most of her classes. She was especially good with numbers, taking after Zig by excelling in her maths class.

Zig knew he was blessed to have two beautiful daughters. But he loved how completely different they were. Yet that did make life somewhat difficult at times. Though the girls constantly squabbled, it went without saying they loved each other. Luna in particular had inherited that fiercely protective trait from her father. Taunting and teasing was all well and good when it came from her, but she didn't hesitate to give a little attitude to anyone at school who dared to mock her little sister for being the massive nerd that she was. Not that she would ever let Louisa in on that little secret.

As both girls voices grew increasingly louder, Zig finally lowered them both to the ground.

'Girls, I know how to settle this for you both.'

They both turned to him, eyeing him skeptically.

'Who tucks you in at night and reads you bedtime stories? Who checks your closet every night for monsters? Who sneaks chocolate into your rooms and hides it under the pillow? Who gives the best hugs known to man?'

'Eurgh Daddy, are you really doing this?' Luna peeked down at her nails, feigning disinterest. Zig suppressed the urge to laugh at her, once again acting older than her years.

'Okay but most importantly, who's going to take you both out today shopping. Anything you want, you've got it.'

'Anything?' They both crossed their arms, staring him down. For all their differences, they knew how to work together when they wanted to. He gulped, mentally cursing to himself. He should have known better than to try and outwit his daughters, he was no match for them. God knows how much today was going to cost him!

'That all depends. Who's the best? Uncle Tyler? Uncle Zack?'

Luna and Louisa shared a knowing look, turning back to him with the sweetest smiles they could muster.

'Oh no Daddy, you are most definitely the best!'

*** With every mile that passed, the feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach grew more intense. Zig knew he'd be in the doghouse for a while after this little escapade. How was it possible that these two tiny humans had so much control over him?

Checking his mirror, he could see Luna and Louisa still beaming at each other and excitedly nattering away. It was moments like this that meant everything to Zig. The little things. As long as his girls were happy, nothing else mattered.

After pulling up on the drive, he walked around the car to Louisa's side, unclipping the harness of her car seat and helping her out of the car. Of course she was more than capable, but Zig couldn't kick the habit. To him they were both still his babies, and he knew Louisa would indulge him more so than Luna. Never the less, after setting Louisa down, he rounded on the other side of the car, only to find the door popping open and Luna stepping out herself.

'I'm 8 Daddy, I don't need your help anymore!'

Her words stung just a little despite them being glaringly obvious.

'Okay, okay!' He raised his hands in mock surrender, then rushed forward, sweeping her off the ground and spinning her round and round in circles.

'Daddddyyyyyy! Stoppppp!' Luna gasped in-between giggling.

After a few more rounds of spinning, he slowed to a stop, still holding her close.

'You know you'll never be too old for my help right?' Holding her at arm's length, he searched her eyes, willing her to understand that this was him playing the serious Dad card for once, and hoping she'd always take him for his word.

She managed a sheepish smile, before shaking her head side to side and rubbing her nose affectionately against his.

Zig felt his heart melt, very much aware of how much his eldest daughter disliked any public show of affection. Inside the house she'd cuddle up to him constantly, but she was always on edge outside, not wanting to be outed as a softie.

'Ready to face Mummy then kids?'

Louisa placed her hand in Zig's.

'Good luck Daddy.'

'Thanks princess, I'll definitely need it!'

*** Luna and Louisa went on ahead, running circles around their mother excitedly.

'There's my girls! Don't tell me you've talked Daddy in to another shopping trip again?'

Luna mimed zipping her mouth closed, whilst Louisa turned her attention back to Zig who was hanging back, partially hidden behind the kitchen door.

'Wow, you girls must have outdone yourselves this time on picking out the most annoying toy if Daddy is too scared to even bring it in the house.'

'We didn't get any toys this time Mummy.' Louisa replied, sitting down out of view behind Zig.

Glaring at Zig, she swept her hand through her hair as she tried to stay calm in front of the kids.

'I thought we had a conversation about them not getting phones until they are way older. I'm serious, I didn't have a phone until I was like 14.'

'Daddy didn't buy us phones. But FYI I'm not waiting until I'm 14 for a phone.' Luna butted in before Zig could respond.

'FYI, I'll make it 18 if you don't cool it with the sass young lady.'

Suddenly a tiny yelp came from behind Zig.

Unsure where to look, Zig nervously rubbed the back of his head and took a step forward, pulling a small cage out from it's hiding place behind him.

'ZIG! A puppy? You bought the girls a puppy? Seriously?' He could tell she was struggling to reign her temper in.

'Umm no.'

Raising her eyebrow she scoffed 'Really, because from where I'm standing that's exactly what it looks like.'

'I mean yes, I did buy a puppy. But not necessarily just for the girls. Come on, you always said you wanted a family pet. What better time than now?'

With her arms crossed firmly against her chest, she stared him down until he couldn't take it anymore. Bending down, he opened the cage and gently lifted the small golden retriever up towards her.

Noticing her hesitate, he pushed the puppy close to her face, until the dog started licking her repeatedly.

After a minute or two of puppy kisses, she set the dog down on the floor, trying her hardest to stop herself from smiling but failing. Who can stay mad when puppy kisses are involved?

'Okay girls, go and take your new present in the living room and think of a name.'

They both skipped off down the hallway, immediately raising their voices as they began an argument over what the puppy should be called, the dog obediently bounding after them.

Her attention immediately turned to the washing machine as she began pulling out garments, folding them, and placing them into a neat pile.

'You really think it's the best time to bring a dog into this family?' She sighed, not looking up from the task in hand.

'We've always talked about getting one, and you saw how happy the girls are. So sure, why not babe?'

She swept her hand up and down her body, before gesturing furiously towards her middle.

'How about the fact we've already recruited one new member for the Ortega family this year.'

Zig bit down on his bottom lip guiltily as he watched his pregnant wife increase her folding pace as she grew more and more agitated. They hadn't planned this baby at all, although Zig had made no secret of the fact he wanted a big family, four at least. She was quite happy to settle on two, hating how badly her body reacted to pregnancy. Things had been different this time though. No morning sickness and no complications so far, and she was pleasantly surprised to find herself enjoying it this time around.

Placing his hand upon hers, she stilled, one of the girls leggings dropping to the floor. Resting a hand to her bump, his thumb slowly brushed back and forth over the thin cotton of her baggy maternity top.

'I'm sorry gorgeous, I just couldn't say no to those girls. The way their eyes lit up when they saw that little guy, what kind of a father would I be to crush their dreams like that?'

She raised an eyebrow in response.

'Don't you think you're being a tad over dramatic?'

Pulling her close, one hand on her hip, the other on her shoulder, he guided her into a little dance, making a show of twirling her at the end.

'Who, me?' He gave her an innocent look, before brushing his lips against hers.

'Fine. The dog stays. But you hear me now Zigmund Ortega, any mess in this house and it's your job to clean up. The walks are all on you, and don't even think about letting him sleep in the bed with us!' She pointed a finger sternly in his direction, eventually jabbing it at his chest.

'Yes Ma'am.'

Returning to the laundry, Zig noticed a familiar baby vest amongst the pile. Holding it out to her, she nodded in recognition.

'How sure are you this time?'

Clutching the vest and inhaling the fresh scent, he smiled at the strong emotions it evoked as he read over the wording 'Daddy's Girl', remembering fondly how he had gone back to buy it, hiding it in his car until Luna's arrival. Both Luna and Louisa had worn the garment as their 'coming home' outfit when they left hospital, and now he mulled over the idea of a third girl wearing it.

'I think girls is what we're good at.'

'I guess we'll find out tomorrow. Kinda feels strange doing this gender reveal thing now after two surprises.'

'You know how persuasive the girls are. It makes no difference to me though, but I do think Luna and Louisa will need the time to adjust to the idea of another girl if those balloons rain pink confetti tomorrow. They are really digging the idea of a baby brother.'

'Hmm yeah, that would be a change. It would be kind of nice to have two of each wouldn't it?'

Pulling her close to his chest by gently tugging on her wrist, he raised his eyebrows.

'Two of each huh?' Smirking, he brushed away a stray piece of hair.

'If you play your cards right.' She bit down on her bottom lip suggestively. Zig closed the space between them but found himself frowning as she giggled and backed away from him.

'It's awfully quiet. Either they've legit killed each other, or they've settled on the name Sir Fluffsalot. Let's go find out which one.'

*** The next day everyone excitedly gathered in the back yard for the gender reveal.

'Look at my baby boy all grown up! I may have been wrong the last two times, but I am certain there's a little grandson coming my way!' Linda pinched Zig's cheeks roughly.

'We'll see Mum.'

'Are we going with Zigmund Junior?' Zig clocked the look of panic cross his wife's face at the suggestion.

'If we have a boy, Ernesto, Emilio or Alexander are all contenders. Looks like it's time to find out!' Pecking her on the cheek, he jogged over to his wife's side, next to a large balloon.

'Ready baby?' 'Ready!' Hands raised in unison, they eagerly poked the balloon, blue confetti instantly scattering as an erruption of cheers started. 'Looks like 2 of each is on the cards babe!'

@zigortega4life @indiacater @emerald-bijou @brightpinkpeppercorn @fancyanatomyeyescookie

Thank you for the name suggestions, i've included at least one from every person that commented!

#choices #pixelberry #zig ortega #zig x mc #fanfic

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this-is-big-lady · 7 years ago

Text

Swipe Right part 10/10

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 can be found on AO3 here

C’est fini. It’s done. I never thought that I could’ve dragged out this silliness for 10 chapters, but hey, here I am! I love my two boys very much and I’m sad to see the end of them, but I can’t wait to write more for those of you who have liked my writing. Enough rambling, lets get on with it!

A yell of his name alerted Crutchie to Davey needing help. His roommate had been calling out for him all afternoon for varying reasons, and as much as he loved Davey, he was starting to get annoying. He let the fork that he was drying drop down into the sink with a faint plop, drying his hands on the dish towel. Grabbing the crutches propped up to the sink, he headed towards Davey’s room, yelling out a confirmation that he was on his way.

He didn’t expect the sight he was greeted with in Davey’s room, but he couldn’t say he was surprised. Davey was sitting on the floor, surrounded by various shirts and jeans and shoes, radiating an air of confusion and panic. He could hear Crutchie stifling a laugh from the doorway, and whipped his head around to see his friend.

“Crutch, you gotta help me,” he pleaded, scrambling for the invitation laid out on his bed. “The dress code says ‘smart casual’ - what does that even mean?!” Crutchie couldn’t blame the guy, this was his first important date and was stressed out enough about that. Throw in the fact that it was an incredibly public date and there would be teachers there judging and assessing his face (well, Jack’s representation of his face), Crutchie was surprised that he wasn’t more nervous.

Navigating around the slew of clothing on the floor, Crutchie headed over to the bed, and made a spot for himself. From here he could direct Davey, while being out of the way of the fabric bombsite. “It means dressy, but not a suit and no sneakers. Get that nice pair of dark jeans you got a couple of months ago and pair it with a dress shirt.” He watched on as Davey sorted through the pile of trousers that had formed on his desk chair until he found the jeans in question, and placed them next to Crutchie. “See, that was easy! Now, pick a dress shirt.”

“I think that may be easier said than done, Crutch,” he said, as he swept his hand around the room. The shirt seemed to be what Davey was stuck with in the first place - he had one on practically every surface of his room.

“What one do you like the most, the one you feel the most comfortable in?” Crutchie could see Davey’s eyes immediately jump to a shirt still in his closet, but after a moment’s hesitation, he turned his attention back to two shirts hanging off his bedroom door. One was a plain pale blue shirt, the other a dark crimson red.

“I’ve been staring at both of these for half an hour and I can’t decide between-“

“I don’t care about them,” Crutchie cut him off, about to give Davey a much needed push. “Get out that shirt in your closet. The one you looked at straight away.”

Davey grumbled a little, a slight pink dusting his cheeks at being caught out, but diligently pulled the shirt out by its hanger. “It was a joke Hanukkah gift from Les-“

“It’s perfect, Davey!” Crutchie clapped a little out of excitement, he had never seen Davey wear this shirt before, and it was just so Davey. A black shirt with a pink floral print, featuring green and brown rattlesnakes weaving between the flowers. Crutchie told him to pair it with a pair of black boots and he was set to go. The fashion advisor was quickly shooed from the room to allow Davey to change, and was waiting out in the living room for Davey to show him the final product.

A few minutes later, Davey’s door creaked open and he slipped out into the living room, smiling shyly at the floor. Letting out a low whistle, Crutchie assured Davey that he looked as good as he must’ve felt in his outfit, even making the blushing guy do a twirl for good measure. For the first time in college, Davey was radiating confidence, and it made him so proud to be able to see how much his best friend had grown over the past few weeks with Jack. He sent Davey into the bathroom do his hair - they spent an hour together this afternoon watching hair tutorials, so if Davey yelled out for help this time, Crutchie was sure to throttle him. Occasionally the odd profanity was muttered from the bathroom but he exited after a while looking a lot tidier with his hair pulled back from his eyes, and a lot more nervous. He flopped onto the couch next to Crutchie, and watched some mindless afternoon television to avoid thinking about the upcoming date.

Despite it being 4:45, Davey constantly checked his watch, counting down the 15 minutes until Jack was due. At 4:50 he was up and pacing, double and triple checking he had his wallet, keys, and phone on him. At 4:55, Crutchie ordered him to sit down and chill out - they were both being driven crazy with Davey’s panicking. Crutchie turned the television off, and the pair sat in an uncomfortable silence permeated with only the sound of Davey’s bouncing leg, until a knock was heard against the door frame.

Davey practically jumped out of his skin as he sprinted to the door, skidding to a stop and yanking it open as fast as possible. Jack stood behind it, slightly shocked at Davey’s abruptness. But the shocked expression quickly melted into Jack looking stunned after taking in Davey’s appearance. He was drinking in the way the soft flowers brought out a hardness in his jaw, how the slim fit of his jeans clung to his legs, and the tiny amount of added height he got from the boots. Jack was in way too deep with this one. After a few beats of silence, Jack managed to choke out a short sentence.

“Wow, Davey, you look… incredible.”

Jack’s words made Davey smile, and he struggled to form a sentence of his own. “You look, uh, pretty… handsome. Pretty handsome, not like, yeah…” He could hear the words coming out of his mouth but seemed to lose all control of them halfway, opting instead to take in the view of Jack in a light blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, black chinos, and his favourite Doc Martens - which had been polished to hide all the scuffs on them. Jack somehow looked even better than Davey had expected, and he didn’t know how that was possible.

A few more moments of silence passed between them, before a voice from the couch could be heard calling out to them. “Alright lovebirds, get a move on. You don’t want to be late!”

Jack made way for Davey as he stepped through the door, going to close it behind them as he yelled out with a hint of irritability, “thanks mom!” A vague call of ‘use protection!’ could be heard as the door closed, both boys opting to just ignore it. As they started heading out of the apartment complex, Davey turned to Jack and apologised. “I’m sorry about him, I love him to pieces but he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

Jack snorted a little, mumbling out, “are you talking about your room mate or me?”

“Definitely my roommate,” Davey’s affirmation was lilted with a laugh. “I’ve been friends with him since high school. But maybe after I’ve known you for 5 years I can say the same thing about you!” He nudged his shoulder with Jack’s as the duo laughed, the idea of spending years together hovering in the air between them as they walked. “But he’s a good guy, maybe you can meet him one day.”

Looking over at his date, there was a glint of of something in Jack’s eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. “Yeah Dave, maybe I can.”

Jack was leading them down to the restaurant area of the city - since they studied on the main city campus, it was only a few streets away from the central business district and all its delicious restaurants. Davey was idly nattering away about piece he had prepared for his journalism exam about the student housing market as he was pulled to a stop by Jack. They were standing outside a bright little restaurant with retro style vinyl booths and a jukebox tucked in by the door. The neon light in the window read ‘Burgers’, as did the sign above the door.

“We’re here!” Jack exclaimed as he opened the door for Davey. Now, he wasn’t expecting a 5 star restaurant, but maybe something a little bit fancier than a burger place for a first date? But Davey did have to admit, it was very Jack. The sound of The Supremes floated out of the jukebox as Davey stepped foot into the diner. It was a bit of an assault on the senses - bright blue walls with red and white booths and seats, the mixture of music and sizzling fries filling his ears, and the unmistakable smell of burgers on a grill. Jack placed a hand on Davey’s back as he walked ahead of him, which snuck around to hold Davey’s waist as Jack asked for his reservation. Davey could feel his brain short circuiting as the waiter guided them towards the booth in the back, but was thankful to get his thoughts back as they sat on seperate sides of the booth.

The waiter placed the menus in front of them, and hurried off to collect the food for another table. Skimming the menu, Davey only noticed one thing. “They sure do have a lot of burgers here. I didn’t even know there were this many kinds of burgers…” Beef, chicken, pork, venison, fish, vegetarian, vegan, not to mention the sides, desserts, and drinks.

“I know, that’s why I love it! I made it my mission to eat through the whole menu when I first arrived in town. It took half a year, but I did it!” Jack smiled proudly at Davey, and Davey was unsure if that was something that someone should really be proud about. But here he was anyway, on a date with a giant nerd who loved burgers. And he found himself thinking that he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

“Do you have any recommendations?” Jack’s eyes lit up at the question, quickly naming his favourites - the buffalo chicken, the pulled pork burger, and surprisingly the vegan supreme. After a couple of minutes of silent deliberation, Davey decided on the vegan supreme and Jack’s choice was the Nemo - Davey asserting that it was an awful name for a first burger, and Jack arguing that he was going to order two, purely out of spite.

As their giggles over the burger names died down, they were able to place their order. Thankfully Jack only ordered one burger, but he did also order a chocolate milkshake for them to share, insisting on having two straws.

“Are you seriously insisting on making us a walking cliché from every high school movie ever?” Davey scoffed as the waiter left them to give their order to the kitchen.

“Yes I am. I know you didn’t really date in high school, so I am making it up to you now. You can thank me later,” Jack finished his sentence with a wink, making Davey blush involuntarily and roll his eyes.

“You are impossible, you know that right?” All Jack did in reply was shrug his shoulders and smile broadly at his exasperated date. Of course he know that.

They shared small talk while waiting for their food to arrive, mainly chatting about the exhibition that they were about to go to. Essentially, the class’ project brief was to create a piece exploring the human condition - some people decided to do room studies and draw the interesting things they found in bedrooms of people they knew, one student drew all the things he put in the trash over a month, but the one Davey was most excited to see - other than Jack’s of course - was the student who snuck into social psychology lectures and illustrated the experiments that the class studied. Jack refused to say anything about his own project, preferring for Davey to see it for himself and let Jack explain it in the moment, something that was frustrating Davey to no end.

As time seemingly slipped by, the full plates and milkshake glass - with two straws - were placed in front of them. Davey went in for a sip of the milkshake, but Jack yelped and made Davey stop. He had a hand deep in his pocket, fishing around for something. “Hang on a sec’, Dave… got it!” He brandished his phone in front of Davey’s face, and told him then he could now take a sip. He was little confused by his date’s actions until he saw Jack turn on the front-facing camera on his phone and captured his own straw between his teeth - Jack wanted a selfie of the two of them and their shared chocolate milkshake.

Davey couldn’t help but groan, and mutter, “you are really making a cliché out of this, Jackie.” Nevertheless, Davey obliged and posed for the selfie, taking a quick taste of the milkshake, which was divine - he understood why Jack came here so often now.

While he was drinking, Jack caused Davey to choke by asking, “Did you just call me Jackie?” He tried to duck his head away from Jack’s gaze out of embarrassment, uttering a small confirmation under his breath. “Because it was really cute, Davey.” The poor guy was ready to combust out of embarrassment and overwhelming happiness that his crush just called him, or at least an accidental nickname, cute. If he looked up, he would’ve been able to see the pure adoration in Jack’s eyes, but he chose instead to pick up his burger and take a bite.

And he was surprised. Typically, vegan meals are as close to kosher as he can get in a typical restaurant, but the vegan burgers he’s had before haven’t been this good. No wonder a happy meat eater like Jack recommended it! He groaned in appreciation as he chewed, managing something that sounded like, “this is incredible,” before swallowing. “Thank you for the recommendation,” he said with a heavy dose of appreciation.

Jack swallowed his bite before replying with a flirty brag, “What can I say, I’ve got incredible taste,” a threw a wink Davey’s way.

He was sure that he would be dead by the end of this date by the amount of times Jack made his heart skip a beat. Or at least, his face would be stained red for eternity.

Like a true gentleman, Jack paid for both himself and Davey, despite Davey’s protests. As Davey was watching him pay, he noticed a a smudge of sauce on his chin. He tried to tell Jack this as they were heading back outside, but they couldn’t quite hear each other as they walked past the blaring jukebox. Davey decided to simply cut out the middle man, swiping a thumb against his chin. Both boys stilled at the contact between them, hovering in the open doorway - Davey on the outside of the restaurant and Jack on the inside. That feeling Davey got when Jack touched his hand weeks ago was back, and it was as intoxicating then as it is now.

Davey felt his mouth go dry as he tried to explain, “you had, uh, a bit of sauce, on your chin…” His hand was still there, cupping Jack’s chin. He really didn’t want to move it, but the shock still wasn’t budging from Jack’s face. “See?” he asked, a little overeager at his excuse, showing the red blob on his thumb to Jack.

Smiling and holding onto Davey’s thumb, all Jack could say was the first thing that came to mind - “You’re an angel, Dave.” Acutely aware of the customers grumbling behind him about the door being open, he stepped towards Davey and allowed the door to swing closed behind him. He took his proximity to Davey into his advantage too, and licked the dried sauce off Davey’s thumb, eliciting a shriek from his date.

“Jack! That’s disgusting!” Davey grimaced, but at least the awkward tension was broken.

“Quit your whining, I was saving it for later! Now come on, we don’t want to be late.” Jack could see Davey wipe his hand against his jeans as they started to head towards the gallery. He didn’t look too pissed off, but actually rather amused. Jack was glad about that, he definitely didn’t want to agitate Davey, especially since they were about to go see a project in which he was a pretty big part.

They mostly walked in silence, Jack was preoccupied with an uncomfortable nervous feeling settling in his stomach. He was suddenly doubting his choice to pull out all the stops for Davey. His teacher told him that it was a great idea and showed great ‘artistic vision’, as he put it. And as a piece of art, it was good. But when Davey was staring back at his own face as an oil painting? Maybe not such a brilliant idea. But all Jack could do is wait and see his reaction - and the anticipation was killing him.

Beside him, Davey could practically hear the cogs turning in Jack’s head. And he understood. He felt the same way before going into exams, and this was an exam of sorts for Jack. He’d normally just plug some headphones in and tune out the world, but Jack could hardly do that while he was walking with him. So he did what he would want Jack to do if he was walking to an exam - Davey took Jack’s hand. It was a little dry from scrubbing all the little paint flecks off them, but Davey had no complaints. It was Jack.

And it was Jack who slowed down a little as he felt Davey’s hand intertwine with his own. Both boys looked down at their linked hands with a soft smile on their faces, and he could hear exactly what Davey was trying to say with the little gesture. I’m here. Don’t worry. The electric feeling at their point of contact died down to a soft buzz as they kept walking, and was doing more to comfort Jack in this moment than Davey would ever understand. He softly caressed him thumb across Davey’s as a silent thank you, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a wider smile grace his date’s face. God, what he wouldn’t do to keep Davey’s smile there forever.

As they neared the student gallery, Jack dropped Davey’s hand and turned towards him, smoothing out his shirt. “Do I look alright?”

You look perfect, handsome, like a dream come true, Davey wanted to say. “Of course you do, stop worrying,” he settled for, as he helped Jack readjust the collar of his shirt. He dropped his hand to Jack’s bicep, and gave it a gentle squeeze that he hoped was comforting. “Now go in there and knock ‘em dead.”

Jack took a deep breath, and took a moment to appreciate the sweet boy that this crazy project helped him to find. With Davey following behind him, Jack turned on his heel, walking to the door and holding it open for Davey. Heads inside turned to see who was entering, a few students raising a hand to wave at Jack, who was right behind Davey. A deep voice to the right of them asked if they wanted a beer or a glass of wine, and Davey turned to face the stranger. He was an older man, probably not a student, and wore very round, very statement-looking glasses. Davey politely refused the drink, and then man moved his gaze to Jack.

“Can I grab his one then, Specs? If he’s not gonna have it?” The older man, Specs, Davey presumed, let out a chuckle at that.

“Sure thing Jack, just make sure Davey holds it for you. It’s a strict ‘one drink per person’ tonight.” Jack grabbed two glasses of white wine, and handed one to Davey. Jack whisked Davey away from the drinks table, and answered an unasked question that he knew Davey had.

“Specs is the coordinator slash teacher of this course. His real name is Spencer, but we just call him Specs, it’s easier.” Davey just nodded and looked down at his wine. That was one question he had, but not the most pertinent one.

“But how did he know my name?”

“I, uh, well…” Jack stammered. It was an easy explanation of course, so why was he nervous? Probably because he didn’t want to give away the fact that he had to spend hours with Specs discussing the painting his was doing of Davey, and of only Davey. “I obviously drew you for this whole thing, and he must’ve recognised you from my drawing. And I obviously named the drawing after you.”

As the students and their guests mingled in the foyer, waiting for the last people to arrive, Davey was introduced to a few of the other students in Jack’s class. They had some strange names, like Finch and Jojo and Romeo, and even weirder nicknames, like Mush and Buttons. But then again, he lived with a guy named Crutchie, so he wasn’t really one to judge. At least with such different names, Davey was sure that he’d remember them.

Slowly the din in the room quietened, thanks in part to Specs hitting an empty beer bottle with a spoon he must have found. “Hi everyone, welcome to all the students here tonight showcasing their work, and to their friends and family that have come to support them. I’ll keep it brief since I’m sure you all want to see the art, but for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Spencer - although you may hear the students call me Specs - and I run this course every year. It is centred around drawing, but you will see some artistic license being taken with that brief as you walk around. I have a note here from Finch that you’re welcome to pick up paper from the pile slash sculpture - and I use that word very loosely - that he created, as there are drawings on every page.”

Jack nudged Davey and whispered, “That’s the one with all the drawings of the rubbish.” Davey just let out a soft ‘oh’, as he tried to keep listening to Specs’ speech and ignoring the warm breath that was ticking his neck when Jack spoke.

“… Some artists posed as students from other classes - “

“Romeo and social psychology,” Jack clarified.

“… And some went above and beyond the brief,” Davey noticed a rather poignant glance that Specs shot Jack on that statement, to which Jack just tipped his head back and downed the rest of his wine. What the hell did that mean?

“And you can see all of that for yourselves. Happy viewing, everyone!” Specs stood aside and pushed open the gallery door to a round of applause from all present, which Jack took as his cue to exchange glasses with Davey. His previous one didn’t last long at all, hopefully it helped calm him down enough that this glass would last the rest of the night.

As they stepped through, The were immediately greeted with Jojo’s piece on the life of a student. She’d copied every form she had to fill out in order to apply for tertiary study, and her loans, also including a bunch of receipts from the local art supply store, and drew one thing on one piece of paper every day - varying between conversations she had overheard on campus to a gorgeous bird that frequented the window frame of the class’ studio space. The explanation she gave on a board next to the drawings stated that although studying comes with a huge financial burden for a privilege that’s seen as compulsory by many, the beauty in the opportunity is often overlooked because of it. Her work had seemed to grab a big enough crowd for the meantime, even explaining some of the finer nuances to those who wanted to listen. Davey and Jack kept moving though, Davey desperately trying to find Jack’s section, and Jack desperately trying to fight the nerves of Davey finding his section.

But Jack’s nerves were relieved for a moment when they found Romeo’s artwork. Davey had always found social psychology interesting, why people did he things they did. That’s why he studied journalism, so he could recount tales of people to a wider public, without all the science-y stuff that psychology required. He found himself particularly enraptured with a rather gory picture of the famous murder of Kitty Genovese. Over 30 people heard her murder taking place, and no one did anything about it - one of the great tragedies of social psychology’s research. So incredibly engrossed, Davey didn’t even notice the shutter clicks coming from behind him as Jack took photos of him. He looked so damned cute with the inquisitive look that would grace his features whenever he was studying or learning something knew, and Jack could never permanently capture it. Until now. As Davey was chatting Romeo’s ear off, Jack had time to finish his next glass of wine and set it on a table in the corner. Davey could’ve talked to Romeo about his time in social psychology until they got kicked out of the gallery, but that was not why he was here. He was here to support Jack, and after passing on his admiration and congratulations to Romeo, Jack swept Davey off to the next collection.

They slowly wandered around, taking in and discussing the art, until the pair turned a corner and saw Jack’s name and his explanation board. Jack could practically feel his heart jump into his throat as he searched for Davey’s hand again. He found it, and after a chuckle from Davey, he was told, “loosen your grip, Jack. You don’t want to strangle my hand.” And thankfully for Davey’s circulation, he did.

Jack’s project consisted of 9 drawings, 6 in the first section and the other 3 placed on the walls around a dead-end corner. Davey started walking forward to check out the first drawing on the left, ignoring those on the right wall - they could come back to them after they went around the corner. It was all in greyscale, except for the bottom right hand corner coloured with reds and oranges and yellows - the actual corner was even burnt off. As he scanned the rest of the drawing it seemed eerily familiar, until he checked out the name plaque underneath, which simply read, ‘Race’.

He couldn’t help but let out a laugh that echoed a little too loudly in the gallery. Of course Jack found Race on tinder, that boy would flirt with a bush if he had the chance. And he had seen Race drunk enough times to know that he always found a chance.

Extremely confused at Davey’s outburst, Jack asked, “Why are you laughing?”

“Did you ever notice that both Race and I have the same high school listed in our tinder bios?” It took Jack a couple of seconds to make the connection, and then his jaw dropped.

“Wait, you and Race went to high school together?!”

“Yes, you idiot!” Davey exclaimed, smacking Jack’s arm lightly. “Let me guess, he told you about his smoking habit, thus the burn in the corner?”

Jack just stood there, dumbfounded, for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah. I guess you really do know Race.”

“And I guess he’s too busy with that Sean guy he’s been seeing to come to the gallery tonight.”

“Sorry, did you say Sean?” Jack questioned, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah, why?!”

“No reason.” Jack just shook his head and smiled in disbelief. So his roommate was in a casual relationship with his date’s friend from high school… damn, Jack really needed to get out more.

Davey kept pulling Jack along to the next drawing. The one adjacent to Race’s had a crowd of one in front of it, and Jack stood next to her in the middle, with Davey flanking his other side. The other admirer spoke up to the pair who had just joined, noting, “Apart from screwing up my name, Jack, I’d say it’s a pretty good representation.”

The girl stood proudly, Sharpie in hand, and had just finished writing ‘Plumber-‘ into the name plaque which now read, ‘Katherine Plumber-Pulitzer’.

So this was the famous Katherine that Davey had been freaking out about. And he couldn’t deny what Jack had told him, she was gorgeous. But he would be able to gather that just from the drawing too. On the wall, Katherine’s thick brown hair blurred into the suffocating black background with two pairs of piercing eyes, “to represent your overbearing parents”, Jack explained to her. Her eyes were larger than what was strictly proportional for the drawing, but it allowed Jack to draw a silhouette of a girl reflected in her eyes, “to show your crush on that girl in your class… Sarah, wasn’t it?” The final touch was newspaper headlines decorating the collar of her shirt, because “that’s obvious, you’re a journalism student, like my Davey here.”

“You study journalism too?” Davey could feel Katherine’s sharp eyes trained on him, so he shook himself out of his drawing-induced reverie.

“I, yes. I do. But I’m a year or two below-” His affirmation made Katherine light up, and he could see why Jack wanted to draw a woman as beautiful as her.

“Oh hush,” she said, cutting off his explanation that his skills are a few years behind hers. “We’ll have to chat about it sometime, I’m sure Jack can give you my number.”

Leaning over to envelop Katherine into a hug, Jack whispered a thanks into Katherine’s ear for showing up. Jack hadn’t told Davey the entirety of what happened in Katherine’s portrait sitting, and what they discussed. They spent nearly the whole time discussing their respective crushes, and Katherine managed to convince Jack to ask Davey to be his date for the showing tonight - as long as she asked her art history girl out for coffee. And she did so after their next class, so Jack had to hold up his end of the bargain. He didn’t have the guts to do it himself, but knowing that Katherine was going to be there to ensure that he did gave him the push he needed. The last thing he wanted was the very intimidating Katherine Plumber-Pulitzer after his head for being too afraid to ask the incredible Davey Jacobs on a date.

“Now go!” She laughed, while pushing Jack out of the hug. “You have more art to show this boy! It was lovely meeting you, Davey.”

“You too, Katherine,” Davey called, as Jack held onto his arm and dragged him along to the next drawing.

They stopped a couple of steps later, in front of a drawing that looked nothing like a person - at first glance it just looked like a pair of sticks. Davey turned his head and asked Jack, “I thought you were drawing people, not still life?”

“I did. Look at the title.”

And Davey did.

‘Charlie “Crutchie” Morris’.

It quickly made sense. They weren’t sticks, they were Crutchie’s crutches. This was also the only drawing with an extra explanation beside it, stating, ‘Artist’s Note: I got talking to Crutchie one day through a mutual friend, and asked if he’d want to join my project. Upon accepting, he had one condition: that I didn’t make it a piece redeeming his ‘humanity’ despite his disability. Crutchie is a person who is happy to use his disability as a strong identifier for who he is, but understands that not all disabled people do this. After all, the nickname that his friends call him, and insisted that I call him, is based on his disability. After talking with him, we both decided that to best represent him, we weren’t going to downplay the importance of his disability for Crutchie. Instead of drawing his portrait, I drew his crutches, one of the most important things in his life. This is how Crutchie wanted to be represented, as he recognises that this is often the first thing a stranger sees about him. And he’s already asked to have this drawing framed for his living room when the showcase finishes.’

Davey could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, and tried to furiously blink them back. It was such a touching representation of his best friend, and the fact that Jack would create something so beautiful effected him more than he’d care to say. With a quiet voice that surprised Jack, Davey asked, “when did you meet Crutchie?”

“On Sunday, I found some flashcards you left at my place before I left to meet Katherine. I came over to your place to give them to you, but you weren’t there. Crutchie said you were at the library studying, and invited me in to have a chat. We got talking, and that drawing was the result. I invited him tonight, but he didn’t want to intrude on our date.”

Bursting into astonished giggles, Davey was genuinely surprised that Crutchie - widely known as being too excitable to ever keep a secret for more than a couple of hours - didn’t tell him this earlier. “That bastard,” he whispered under his breath, and a slightly shocked look on Jack’s face showed that he heard Davey’s mutterings. “He helped me get ready tonight and he isn’t tell me that he was a part of this! I gotta get a photo of this.”

Turning his back to the drawing , he pulled up his phone and yanked Jack into the shot. Posing so that the crutches could be seen between him and Jack, Davey snapped the selfie of the unlikely trio, and sent it off to Crutchie without a caption. That boy was going to get an ear full and a giant hug when Davey got home.

Jack was able to see that Davey was ready to move onto the next drawing, so he took hold of Davey’s hands to halt him. Standing in from of him and taking a shaky breath, Jack looked Davey dead in the eyes. “Just so you know Dave, this next one is a bit bigger than the rest. And it means a lot of me.” The sincerity in Jack’s eyes scared Davey a little, so he nodded and intertwined Jack’s fingers with his in a bid to calm down the artist. Davey could see Jack’s shoulders sag a little as he sighed, a little bit of tension melting away with the contact. Uttering, “let’s go,” Jack pulled Davey around the corner and braced himself.

Davey knew that his drawing must be coming up, but he was too occupied thinking about the anxious artist beside him. So when he saw a large canvas on the wall, he didn’t think much of it. Honestly, he thought they wandered into someone else’s space, because Jack was only doing drawings on A3 pieces of paper. It was only when he took a couple of steps forward to drink in the details did he let out a gasp.

The painting was of him.

It was a canvas around the same size as A0 paper, with a deep blue background. His portrait was painted face-on, his green eyes crinkled at the corners and stood out in contrast to his pale skin with a fair smattering of freckles. His mouth curved gently upwards in a contented smile, while a gentle wash of pink adorned his cheeks. Of course Jack had to paint him as the blushing fool he was. A light blue kippah was perched on top of his black hair - Jack managed to make his hair look much more styled than Davey could ever achieve. But what truly caught Davey’s eye was the centre of the painting. The painted rendition of him was wearing the same black button up shirt that he wore to Starbucks the first time that him and Jack met, with one vital addition. On the right side of Davey’s chest, there was a heart outlined and filled with the rainbow, and a white Star of David in the centre of the colourful heart. Above where real Davey’s heart would be.

It was beautiful.

The way Jack captured his nuances - his right shoulder was pulled up slightly higher than his left, a habit from carrying a schoolbag that was too heavy - to being able to seamlessly incorporate such important information - his Judaism and his sexuality - blew Davey away. It was far more than he ever expected. He was planning on a simple coloured sketch that took an afternoon or so to complete, with a couple of the details they talked about to be incorporated in subtle ways. The thought of being the painted canvas centrepiece of a drawing exhibition never crossed his mind. Until a few moments ago.

“I remember you telling me,” a gentle voice from behind him started, “about how you were now ‘pretty happy to say that you’re a gay Jew’, and that’s what struck me the most from your portrait sitting. So I wanted that to be the focus. The muted background and your dark shirt were meant to bring focus to this incredibly generous and bright and fulfilled heart that you have. A place for two things that have been discouraged in the past, and well, the present, to live harmoniously. That’s something I really admire about you, Dave.” He could feel Jack’s arms wind around his waist from behind him, as Davey clamped a hand over his mouth, still in shock that Jack actually painted him.

“And I couldn’t capture all that in just a drawing, so over the span of a couple of weeks I convinced Specs to let me bend the rules and paint a portrait of you instead. I had to find a way to make your eyes shine as much as they do when you’re reading a new back, and a way to show how you blush when I flirt with you, and how important both your religion and sexuality is to you. And the only way I could find to do that was with paint and a big-ass canvas. All I can hope is that this isn’t way over the top and scaring you off.” He felt Jack let out a self-depreciating laugh and drop his head against his shoulder. It took a lot of guts for Jack to do what he did. He took a huge risk, placing both the grading of an assignment on Davey and heralding his admiration - and dare he say, adoration? - for him in public. And who was Davey anyway? Just some random guy on a dating app, that an algorithm helped Jack find, that placed their fate on a simple swipe on a screen. It was a slightly ridiculous situation that they were in, but one that also felt incredibly right.

Turning his back on the painting, Davey enveloped Jack in a tight hug, holding onto his shoulders as Jack gripped his waist. They just stood there for a few seconds, drinking in the comfort of being so close to each other. Davey gently murmured in Jack’s ear, “It’s perfect, I love it. Thank you.” He pulled back slowly, and placed a soft kiss just under Jack’s cheekbone. Davey could feel Jack’s eyelashes flutter against his skin, and Jack’s arms gripped him tighter, prolonging the moment by keeping Davey close.

Letting his arms drop to Davey’s elbows, Jack asked, “you really like it?” Ignoring the way his voice cracked in nerves, he was overjoyed to see Davey nod.

“Of course I do, Jack.”

“And it’s not too much?”

“Not at all, it’s amazing. I mean, I’d normally ask you to buy me dinner before you did something like this, but you already have!” Davey giggled as Jack looked down and nudged his shoes against Davey’s - a modified nervous habit of scuffing his own shoes.

Davey cast his gaze down to see what Jack was doing with his feet, as he heard Jack take a shallow breath. He saw Jack lift his hand from its location holding his own arm, and he tucked a finger under Davey’s chin. He used this hand to push Davey’s chin up, making Davey look into his date’s eyes. They stood in a heavy silence for one, two, three seconds, before Davey saw Jack’s eyes flicker down to his lips. Another second passed before Jack lent in. Another second passed before Jack’s eyes closed. And then Davey felt Jack’s lips against his.

It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was his first kiss that truly mattered. With someone that truly mattered. Jack’s lips were slightly chapped and pushed softly against his, moving slowly. Their noses bumped together as Jack moved his other hand to Davey’s back, the pressure grounding Davey in the moment. It made their chests touch, and Davey hoped that Jack couldn’t feel the strength of his heart beats through his shirt. He could feel Jack’s gentle exhales dance across his cheek and Jack’s hint of stubble tickled his jaw line. He brought a shaky hand up to caress the painter’s jaw, making him sigh into the kiss.

Upon hearing Jack’s contentment, Davey started to smile, effectively ending the kiss. No longer being able to kiss him, Jack pulled back as his date ducked his head to hide his broad smile from the gorgeous man that just kissed him. Jack pressed a tender kiss to Davey’s forehead, taking advantage of the taller boy’s downwards gaze. Davey dropped his hand down to Jack’s waist, and lightly squeezing it in a way that he hoped expressed his complete joy and gratitude for the selfless artist.

They stood still for a few moments, Jack pressing his forehead against Davey’s, his arms wrapped around Davey’s torso while the other place his hands on Jack’s waist. They were breathing into the small the gap between them, the sound of their own heartbeats loud in their ears. Out of nowhere, Jack muttered, “I have an idea” - whether to himself or to Davey, the other boy didn’t truly know. Jack pressed a chaste kiss to Davey’s forehead, whispering, “stay right here,” as he extracted his arms from Davey’s. He turned quickly on his heel and darted around the corner, and a yelp of, “Katherine!” could be heard. An unintelligible but brief conversation followed, and not 20 seconds later Jack came back to Davey.

He walked past his date, grazing a hand against Davey’s, and strided up to the painting on the wall. There was a faint pop sound and Jack bent down to the wall next to the painting, an unpleasant squeaking sound filling the space. Staring quizzically at the back of Jack’s head, Davey had no idea what was going on. Until Jack stepped back with a huge grin on his face, and gesturing for Davey to step closer. As he did so, he could see that Jack had taken Katherine’s sharpie from her and written on the name plaque next to Davey’s painting. More accurately, he had striked out ‘Davey Jacobs’, and wrote two words above it.

My boyfriend

Jack’s confident smile and the pride that was radiating from him would’ve made Davey swoon if he wasn’t still dealing with the after-effects of Jack’s glorious kiss. He just tipped his head back and laughed at exactly how much he’d fallen for this ridiculous man. And he didn’t regret a single bit of it.

The warm and fuzzy feeling that was spreading through his body gave Davey the confidence to step forward, experimentally wind his fingers through the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck, and close the gap between the two of them. Jack cupped Davey’s jaw in his hands and Davey grabbed at the loose sections of the shirt on Jack’s back, other people in the gallery be damned. Their lips moved in a silent harmony with each other, quiet breaths and noises of appreciation shared between the two of them. It was only their second kiss, but they were already learning how the other’s lips moved and how they felt under each other’s fingertips, and it was enough to make them realise how much they had been missing out on until now.

Tinder got Jack a boyfriend and an A on an art class assignment, and it got Davey a boyfriend and a giant painting of himself to hang in his apartment. And neither of them would’ve wanted it any other way.

#javid #davey jacobs #Jack Kelly #jack x davey #jack x david #tinder au #newsies fanfiction #I MISS MY BOYS ALREADY #crutchie morris #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer

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