Davey.........

second last one....... (for apartment au!!)

okay so this is that self indulgent javey oneshot ...

it gets an eeny bit spicy towards the end but it's like only a little bit ...

consider this my bday gift to you guys !

Jack and David didn't realise it had gotten dark out until they could see their reflections clearly in the windows.

They weren't alone, of course, many other late night studiers still sat at their own desks, but Jack and Davey were lucky to be separated from most others by some rows of bookshelves.

And in the mellow lights from overhead, Davey's unkempt curls made shadows on his face, illuminating and accentuating his high cheekbones, sun-kissed freckles and roman nose. Jack watched the way his long fingers glided across the pages of his textbook, occasionally dropping to the desk to pick up a highlighter. Jack watched the way his eyebrows drew together as he reread a passage, the way his cool blue eyes blinked a few times.

God, he was inconceivably pretty. Jack is a very lucky man.

Davey glanced up at Jack, once quickly, as if to check what Jack was doing, then again, realising Jack's eyes were already on him.

Davey shot him a questioning look and a smile, and Jack grinned back. He watched Davey's tongue as it swiped across his beautiful soft lips, and watched those elegant fingers tuck a stray curl behind his ear. Watched as he parted his lips slightly, to sigh, resting his head on his hands, gazing at Jack.

God, what Jack wouldn't give to have his lips on Davey's right about now. It was a never-fail remedy after a long day.

Davey must have read Jack's mind, because he smiled, that downward-pointed smile that Jack loved and Davey hated, and stood, waiting expectantly. Jack stood too, wincing as the squeak of his chair echoed in the near-silent room.

He let Davey take his hand and lead him into an aisle of books- philosophy, judging from the covers.

See, their university was very old. Solid-oak-wood-shelves type old. So solid, in fact, that the only noise was a quiet 'oof!' as Davey turned, his back against a shelf, grabbed Jack's collar, and pulled him in close.

'Hey.' Davey whispered, smiling coyly.

'Hey.' Jack replied, feeling blush heat his cheeks. 'God, you're beautiful.'

Davey circled his fingers on Jack's shoulder, whisper-giggling. God, talk about seductive.

Jack let one hand rest on Davey's hip, the other on his cheek, and gently connected their lips. Electricity flowed through him, like it was their first kiss all over again. Davey smiled, pulling Jack impossibly closer as he opened his mouth, giving Jack's tongue entrance. Jack gladly obliged, running his tongue over the inside of the mouth he knew so well. He sighed happily against Davey's mouth, moving both hands down to the other boy's hips.

When Jack pulled away for breath, he took great care in memorising every detail of Davey's face. His lips, now teasing a new, slightly bruised look. His nose and cheeks, dusted pink. His eyes, storm-blue and horribly sparkly. His pupils, blown wide.

Jack lifted one hand just inside Davey's shirt, dragging his thumb over the jut of his hip-bone, revelling in the way Davey seemed to vibrate at the feeling.

'God, you're...' Jack whispered, unable to find the right words. 'Just incredible.'

'You too.' Davey sighed more than said. He gazed dreamily at Jack, making his heart skip a beat. 'Tu es plus beau que le soleil... j'ai besoin de toi.' Davey murmured, moving a hand to play with Jack's bottom lip.

'Fuck, Dave...' Jack whispered. 'You can't just talk to me like that.'

'Like what?' Davey asked innocently, snaking his arms around Jack's shoulders. 'Comme ça?'

'You know I think it's sexy.' Jack groaned, dropping his head into the crook of Davey's shoulder.

'Tu es adorable, mon amour.' Davey whispered in the most silky tone Jack had ever heard. 'Tu aimes quand je parle comme ça, n'est-ce pas?'

Jack had no idea what Davey could possibly be saying, but man oh man was it doing a number on him. And his dick. And it sure did not go unnoticed, seeing as Jack had pulled his hips flush to Davey's at some point.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Davey's mouth. 'Ah chérie, tu es déjà excitée?' Aha. Jack knew that one. Excitée. Horny. 'Juste d'après mes mots?' Davey took on a more teasing tone, which only turned Jack on more. 'Oh, mon beau garçon.'

'Oui.' Jack grunted, letting Davey rub his back, almost sympathetically. And Davey had the audacity to giggle, and it was just about the most sultry giggle Jack had heard from him.

'Dave.' Jack tried to sound stern, but it came out more pleading. 'Gimme a break.'

Davey leaned in close to Jack's ear, and whispered, obviously now trying (and succeeding, the little bitch) to sound seductive, 'Non, pas pour toi, mon amour.'

Jack physically couldn't contain it. He ground his hips up, into Davey's, slowly and needily. Davey gasped quietly, not expecting the sensation.

'Jack!' He sounded scandalised. 'We are in a library!'

'Oh, and the library was just fine when you were talking dirty to me in French?' Jack snapped back playfully.

'I was not talking dirty!' Davey placed a hand on his chest defensively. 'I had no idea it was having an effect on you!'

Jack looked pointedly down at his now obvious boner, pressed against Davey. Davey snorted. 'Okay, well, that is not my fault.'

'It is so your fault.' Jack frowned. 'Can we get out of here?'

'Only if you use my textbook to hide your situation.'

'Oh, you asshole. You're about to have your own situation.'

'Can I have my situation at home?'

'You asshole.'

Davey shrugged. 'At least I have a situation that's under control.'

'Say sorry. Right now. Or I'm taking care of my situation, right here right now.'

'Jesus!' Davey held his hands up placatingly. 'I'm sorry. .... Mon amour.'

'You ass.'

What would the Newises do if they saw the Delanceys showing their brotherly affection with each other?

Interesting question…

I think all the newsies would react in different ways.

Jack would leave it alone. He wouldn’t say anything about the way morris tussled Oscar’s hair, but he would watch the exchange and wonder why they had decided to be as cruel to him as they were.

Race would speak up and ask them if they were going soft which would end in him getting chased all the way to Brooklyn

Crutchie would smile at them and say good morning as he bought his papes and he’d tell them they were lucky to at least have each other

Albert would use the opportunity to slip himself an extra pape or two because Morris would be making sure Oscar was alright after he slipped and fell

David would be too distracted managing his own brother to notice.

Specs would clean his glasses to make sure what he was seeing was actually real.

What do you guys think?

pidge,,, I have no clue if the prompt post you reblogged was supposed to be for suggestions,,, but the one about character A moving around character B and trying to turn the light of mid cuddle is just,, so javid. Javid who will do ANYTHING to prevent disturbing the other, no matter how urgent a task is,, (the 2am delirium is setting in)

(yes they were indeed!! and if anyone else would like to put something in the suggestion box you can do so here

thank you jasper for choosing the prompt i wanted to do the most)

"Jack," Davey murmurs into the comforter, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing," Jack whispers, "go back to sleep."

Davey makes a childish little hum in the back of his throat, clearly very upset about things he doesn't currently know about, but settles further into the cradle of Jack's arms with a soft sigh.

Jack breathes slowly, his whole body boiling over with Davey - Davey's warmth, Davey's weight, Davey... He's never going to get used to holding him, just... Touching him. Being allowed to do that. It'd taken him at least a week into being 'official' - three and a half weeks from their very first date and two months, three weeks and four days from first trying to work up the nerve (but who's counting) - to even feel like he really was allowed. Like Davey wasn't just waiting for him to reach out only to jump away from him and ask what the hell he was doing, as if he might've somehow misread all the flirtatious comments and obvious dates and Davey actually, literally telling him, "I want to be your boyfriend," word for word.

It'd honestly taken Davey pointing it out to him - trying very hard to be polite and chaste about it and failing miserably, because Davey doesn't like being denied, as much as he might pretend otherwise - for Jack to even realize, oh, yes, he can touch his boyfriend if he wants - and he has to think that Davey might regret giving him that realization, because those words went deep, deep into his chest, into something aching and wanting that he'd kept hidden away for years, and activated what Crutchie accurately calls his 'grab drive'; and now Jack can't turn it off.

It goes something like this: Davey will be making breakfast, still looking perfectly sleep-rumpled from the night before in nothing but Jack's sweater and a pair of long pyjama pants that, while Jack maintains are dorky as hell, make him look so heartwrenchingly soft. His hair will still be a mess of brush-stroke curls, not being bothered to've found a brush yet, and his eyes will still have just a bit of a sheen to them as he pulls himself into wakefulness, and he'll be punching the spatula into the frying pan in tiny jolts of movement, his limbs still sleep-weak and numb in some places. And then Jack, without even realizing, will be right behind him, arms around his waist and squeezing - not too hard - just to know that yes, Davey is real. He'll lean up on his tiptoes and prop his head on Davey's shoulder, nudging at the bare skin of his neck until Davey laughs once - a soft and sleepy sound - and turns himself into Jack's weight, flopping over him like a blanket, surrendering the spatula to Jack's more experienced hands (bless Davey's cooking skills, but the man is not patient enough for scramble). Grab drive.

There's more, of course - Davey's doing his 'tism pacing' (his words, not Jacks), wandering back and forth in the fog of overthinking? Jack's pulling him gently into his lap, letting him giggle and sigh and rest against Jack's shoulder as he works. Grab drive. Davey's reading on the couch, flat on his back, his shirt riding over the sharp jut of his hipbone, curls tumbling over the cushions? Jack's suddenly blanketing him, snuffling at Davey's neck, as Davey props his book against Jack's head, resting his wrists and rubbing little circles into Jack's scalp. Grab drive. Davey brushes his fingertips against Jack's wrists, slowly working his thumbs into the sore muscles? Jack's tipping his forehead into Davey's chest, nuzzling his forehead against the crest of his collarbone like he might fuse them at the marrow, and humming happily as Davey works out the kinks in his wrists and chides him for not warming up properly. Grab drive.

It's not his fault - mostly. If anything, Davey's the one who made him realize how very touch-starved he'd been all his life, denying himself hugs and head-pats and cheek-kisses from the time he was a child, because he'd done nothing to deserve them. Touch was earned, in Jack's experience, whether it was a soft stroke of his hair or a good, hard smack. It wasn't right to just expect someone to want you. It was rude, annoying, childish, bratty-

And then Davey showed up and gave him everything, without question - and Jack hadn't looked back since. He takes every touch Davey'll give him and does it with a smile - and he'd hope he gave back as well as he got.

Except - selfishly, perhaps - he does wish Davey might roll off his arm just a bit.

He should've said something, yes, but 'such is the hubris of man' or whatever else Davey might say if he were awake. It's Jack's fault, really, and he can't even bring himself to be that embarrassed about it. Davey likes to read himself to sleep most nights, which is fine, because Jack likes to tip his head onto Davey's shoulder while he scrolls aimlessly on his phone, so they can both trade memes or funny passages or whatever else - but this time, Jack had gotten just a tiny, tiny bit distracted. They were in the same position they are now, therabouts, Davey on his side with his book resting on the pillow and Jack hugging his face into Davey's chest like a koala (grab drive, baby) - and with every chapter Davey passed, he seeped further and further into the pillows, so enraptured in Alys Conran that he didn't even notice he was falling asleep. Jack did, though, of course, because Jack notices everything about Davey - particularly the way he fell asleep with his whole face nuzzled inside the pages, soft paper tickling his nose as he snuffles and hums. Usually, Jack's able to grab him right before he dozes off, nudge his way over Davey's long waist and click off his reading light without Davey so much as noticing, too caught up in the limbo of wake and sleep. But this was an image Jack had needed to just stare at for a bit, hold it in his hands, slip it into a scrapbook and doodle over it in glitter-pink gel pen, and by the time it'd even occurred to him to turn off the lamp, Davey was out like a light (ha-ha, irony) and sleeping like a rock on Jack's arm.

He tries to peel his left arm away from where it curls around Davey's shoulders, to stretch his joints until he can reach the switch, but no luck. He can almost hear Crutchie mocking him in the back of his tired mind-

("Alas, another victim of Jack Kelly's wee little nerd arms."

"You play DnD, motherfucker, don't start-"

"And I fuck at it, Cowboy, you wish you were me!")

Damn Crutchie and his noodle limbs - Jack can turn off a light. He shifts forward a little, tries to turn Davey just enough to let him reach over him - and Davey makes a noise like a baby rhino, shoving his weight indignantly against Jack's own.

"Come on, Jack, I'm tired..." He whines petulantly.

"I know, baby," Jack says soothingly, pitching his voice down to where he knows Davey's weak for it. "S'okay, go back to sleep."

"M'trying..." Davey mutters. "What're you doing?"

"Cheating on you. Go back to sleep."

"Oh?" Davey hums. "With who?"

"Hank Green. Go to sleep."

"Mm, that's so weird..." He can feel Davey smirking against his temple, which means Davey's at the very least awake enough to mock him - shit. "Hank never mentioned you."

"Oh? Are we on a first name basis with Hank now?"

"Yup," Davey nods, slow and sleepy, "we get brunch, like, every Sunday. Never mentioned you."

Jack laughs quietly, because the day Davey wakes up before noon on a Sunday is the day the world ends.

"Well, we just have that kind of relationship, y'know? We don't need to go bragging about it, we have that kind of..." He yawns into Davey's shirt, and feels Davey's soft chuff of laughter through his chest. "Natural intimacy."

Davey hums, stretching from his spine to his toes like a cat.

"I guess we'll have to share."

"Tragedy." Jack smirks. "Go to sleep."

"I can't if you're bothering me," Davey scoffs. Jack winces - if Davey can manage a word with three or more consecutive syllables, he has to be awake now. "What's going..."

Jack looks up in time to see Davey blinking awake, star-blue eyes still glossy with sleep. He frowns, penny-wide pupils shrinking at the sudden light - it's a battle for Jack not to clutch his chest and aw at the sight - and shakes his nose out of his book, twitching like a rabbit.

"Did I read-sleep again?" He asks, and Jack can't help his soft, confirming laugh. Davey giggles with him, glancing over his shoulder. "Did I leave the light on?"

"Yeaahhh," Jack winces. "I was gonna get it."

"You...?" Davey turns back to him, his frown turning soft at the edges as a smile toys at his lips. "Jack, is that seriously it? You just wanted to turn the light off?"

Jack laughs indignantly, shoving his palm against Davey's shoulder.

"You try moving when there's a six foot loser on your arm!"

"Five-nine, Jack, you're just little." Davey scoffs. "And you could've just woken me up."

Jack stuffs his face into the pillows and grumbles, glaring at his horrible, lovely boyfriend from over the fabric. He's going for cute, maybe a little 'so weird Davey's into it' if he's lucky, but Davey only stares at him in delight, eyes wide and calculating.

"Oh, Jack," he grins, his voice gilded with a teasing edge, "is that what that was? You didn't want to wake me!"

"I-!" Jack splutters, his face going warm. "You - you were sleeping, I didn't-!"

"Jackie..." Davey drawls, the just-barely-awake rasp in his voice doing very terrible things to Jack's mind. "You didn't want to wake me..."

"Stop it. That's your I'm right voice, and you haven't even proven anything-"

"You wanted boyfriend points," Davey snickers, "you wanted a good grade in cuddling, something that is both possible to achieve and-"

"Don't fucking Tumblr me, you menace."

Davey rolls his eyes, leaning over to drop his crumpled book on the bedside table, and hovers his hand over the switch with a teasing look.

"Can I turn this off, or will I be undermining your valiant efforts?"

"Mm, keep talkin' dirty to me, babe."

"Menace." Davey scoffs as he flicks off the light. They shuffle back to each other - Davey has a habit of pushing and shoving at his bedding, Jack included, until it's suitably comfortable for him - the two of them bathing in darkness, warmth and the whispers of each other's breath, already wrapped in soft slumber. Jack squeezes his waist with a contented sigh, one arm laid between them, the other pressed, palm flat, to the small of his back.

Yes. Very real. Good to know.

"Goodnight, Jackie."

"G'night, Davey."

please spread this so that it can actually be funny instead of just 1 person voting

WIP Weather Ask Game

Inspired by the random thunderstorm that just popped up out of nowhere. Enjoy.

💧Rain - What's the most emotional scene you've ever written?

❄️ Snow - Who is your coldest / most stoic character and how do they express themselves (if at all)?

🌨 Sleet - What's the most you've ever written in one sitting?

☀️ Sun - What's your favorite part of your WIP?

🌫 Fog - What was the hardest part of your WIP to write?

🌬 Wind - What was the easiest part of your WIP to write?

🌪 Tornado - Who is your most impulsive character and why?

🔥 Wildfire - Who is your most emotional character and why?

🌌 Clear Skies - How long have you been writing your current WIP?

☁️ Cloudy - What inspired you to start writing your WIP? (or in general)

⚡️Lightning - Have you ever spontaneously added something to your story that you wouldn't have added normally? If so, what made you do it?

🪹 Drought - What do you do to help with Writer's Block?

💦 Flood - How many WIPs do you have?

🏝 Hurricane - Do you often stick to one WIP and finish it, then move on, or do you bounce between WIPs?

🪨 Landslide - Which WIP has the most worldbuilding?

⛰ Earthquake - Which WIP has the least worldbuilding?

🌊 Tsunami - When and where do you like to write?

🌋 Volcanic Eruption - What's your biggest flaw as a writer?

🌈 Rainbow - What do you think makes your story unique / stand out?

🌙 Eclipse - What's the most common / reoccurring theme of your WIP(s)?

ALSO! lovely moots expect more into the woods posting BECAUSE!!!! im in my senior prod! for into the woods! the whole three hour musical! im hoping to sing giants in the sky OR sing for jack in the prologue!!!!!!!! because our cast is so big and the prod is gonna be abstract multiple people r gonna play every character ....... anyway .......

the big question is do i post my one (1) newsies drawing. it's davey btw...