“So, Uh,” Jack Starts Hesitantly, Turning To Jacobs. “I’m Real Sorry ‘bout All That.”

love when characters have to have a domestication arc before you can even consider giving them a redemption arc

you guys want javey in like 10 hours ........ finished it but it's like 10:30pm rn and i got skewl in the morning ... wrote a oneshot in my modern au (it's javey first kiss (crutchie made a bet))

this is javey

Jack starts reading bc he knows davey loves to read btw. jack reads poetry so he can understand the way davey's mind works. he spends hours trying to make himself feel like he's worthy of davey's love. like he's enough for Davey to love, not just a husk of a man who lost his hope long ago. after the strike, and after jack finally settles down and starts living in a small flat in lower manhattan, he feels empty. without any reason to keep going except his job as a waiter, he spends a lot of time thinking. thinking about how he might never see Davey again, and that everything that happened between them was incidental to him, not like how it changed jack permanently.

what if he meant nothing to Davey? what if Davey truly forgot about jack? what if Davey never really cared???

finally kicked my art block so have some jack kelly spouting teenage boy nonsense at poor katherine as a treat ( what do you mean this isn't their post-world will know scene in a nutshell?? )

Davey Jacobs <33333333

"I am not a plant killer," Davey says primly, glaring at the shrivelled leaves as if they've personally wronged him. "The plants simply refuse to match my energy despite being invited into my space. And if my therapist is to be believed, that's their problem."

Jack raises an eyebrow as he snips off another yellowing leaf.

"So murdering your poor monstera is self-care, then?"

"Yes." Davey nods curtly. "Girlboss. Slay. Et cetera."

Jack shoots him an amused look, and he at least has the decency to blush a little.

"Look, I don't claim to know the lingo-!"

"No, no," Jack chuckles as he presses more soil around the freshly trimmed roots. "Girlboss, slay, et cetera - I get you. I'm pickin' up what you're puttin' down, Jacobs."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JERJOR

Albert lies on Race's bed. It's 8:34am (or so Race's clock tells him), he's groggy, and he can hear Race's microwave and coffee machine.

He blinks a few times. He remembers what had happened last night; he wasn't THAT drunk, and he remembers it was fucking embarrassing. He dreads facing Race as he will inevitably have to.

Race, the cute guy in apartment 309 that now knows it was Albert leaving him meals after he overheard on the phone Race hated cooking, Race who smells faintly of smoke and has a crooked smile, Race who he shared a bed with last night, Race who gave Albert his hoodie. Race who, Albert is certain of it, he is completely and totally crushing on.

He drags one foot to the floor, then another, pushing himself upright. His sweatpants are creased, the neckline of his- Race's- hoodie is askew, his hair is knotted and all over the place; he can tell just by running a hand through it. He follows the noise of the coffee machine to Race's kitchen.

There he is.

God, Albert nearly faints. His hair is adorably tousled, his shirt is loose and hanging barely onto his shoulders, he has his back to Albert, letting him drink in all of his sharp lines, curved musculature- or at least what he can see under the shirt.

Albert clears his throat.

Race turns, brandishing a mug. "Morning! How'd you sleep?"

Albert tears his eyes from Race's figure to look at Race's coffee machine.

"Uh.. alright. I'm a little hungover, though. I might get a glass of water?" He clears his throat again, looking down to his feet. "Sorry about last night."

Race is all smiles and bounces as he fills a glass with water and brings it to Albert, smiling softly and, dare Albert say, sweetly and lovingly, as he hands Albert the water and pats his shoulder.

"That's totally okay, man. I get it, I get you. I'm sorry about how fucked up and awful your emotions must be. But now we get to eat yummy breakfast together!" Race points at the microwave. "The food you made last night! I have no idea what it is, but it looks and smells delicious!!"

"We?"

Race looks away, takes his hand off Albert's shoulder- Albert's shoulder is cold.

"Well.. I mean, unless you don't want to..."

"No! No, I want to." Albert steps closer to Race, putting his own hand on Race's shoulder. "I just.... I was scared you didn't like me."

Race looks shocked.

The coffee machine stops brewing.

"No, Al, I..." Race sighs, looking away. "I don't know. I'm confused."

Albert sags, a little defeated. "That's okay. Take your time figuring it out. I'll be here for you, if you want me to be."

The microwave beeps.

"That would be lovely."

there's no need to be sorry!! i LOVE talking about writing it's legit why i went to university dude!! this has been really fun for me and also gave me a great reason to look back over what i do and be like 'huh good question actually why DID i choose to do stuff like this' which is so helpful, so thank you!!! - @pigeonwit

WAHHHHH PIDGE ILY ........