#like sorry but this whole ''oh jamie would NEVER drink or get physical to settle a disagreement'' where in god's name are you getting this

[mycenaae]

many of the ted lasso finale critiques are good. and yet many of them are because everyone's blorbofication and fanonizing of the characters has totally robbed them of multi-dimensionality and the personal flaws that make them interesting. what the fuck do you mean that roy and jamie would never be mean to each other or project their personal issues onto their respective relationships with keeley. that's their primary mode of communication

#that's their [trent voice] LOVE LANGUAGE #like sorry but this whole ''oh jamie would NEVER drink or get physical to settle a disagreement'' where in god's name are you getting this #''roy would NEVER be mean to jamie in light of his dad'' ao3 told you that huh #they care about each other but they are also stupid and were raised in an environment that celebrates and encourages toxic masculinity #and they've had a weird little homoerotic rivalry since DAY ONE #the ted and beard stuff though ... y'all are right about that #nat.txt #ted lasso spoilers //

[flowerfan2]

One Night in Milwaukee - Ch. 6

(Now with my new cover art...)

David x Patrick, 2700 words this chapter (A03) 18k so far.  Read from the beginning here.

Summary:  Being stuck in the Milwaukee airport is bad enough. Then David realizes that the man who broke his heart is sitting right next to him.  After a rom-com worthy reunion, David and Patrick decide to give it another try.

Chapter 6

There’s a new lightness in the air as they settle back inside the house, David kicking back on the couch while Patrick pokes around in the kitchen.  He really does need to make a list and do a real grocery run – although he appreciates David’s efforts to save him the trouble.

David grumbles at his phone and stands up.  “Do you mind if I deal with this?  There’s a problem with a supplier, it’ll go faster if I just talk to her instead of sending endless e-mails.”

“Of course not, go ahead.”

Patrick watches David head back towards the bedroom, his phone already up to his ear.  Patrick’s glad that David is still involved with Rose Apothecary, even if it’s not what it used to be.  At least it means that some part of what they created together survived.

Patrick heard about what happened with the store itself from Stevie, how David relocated it near Toronto, but eventually closed down the physical location.  Stevie told Patrick that David’s heart didn’t seem to be in it anymore, but now that Patrick knows that David was depressed, he wonders how much Stevie knew.  Patrick wouldn’t have been able to do it, either – have the store, but not David.  It was always about the two of them together, left brain and right brain working in tandem.  If he had to run Rose Apothecary by himself, it would definitely have lost its heart.

Patrick finishes up the grocery list, the act of neatly putting down everything he needs soothing in its own right, and sits down on the couch with a glass of water.  He’s tired, again.  It seems like he can’t go ten minutes without wanting to lie down.  It’s been a week since he was hurt, and he thought he’d feel better by now.

Patrick remembers David scolding him, on the plane, for traveling so soon.  He probably has a point, but if Patrick hadn’t decided to get out of town, he wouldn’t have run into David, and that’s worth a lot more than sore ribs.

He leans back on the couch and closes his eyes, wincing as his muscles relax.  If he concentrates, he can hear David’s voice as he talks on the phone, the cadence familiar and reassuring.

Patrick wakes up to the tantalizing aroma of garlic sizzling in a pan.  He grabs his phone, dismayed to find that it’s almost six o’clock, the whole afternoon having gone by while he napped on the couch.

“Hey there,” David says, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.  “You’re up just in time.  Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes or so, I was just getting ready to heat the water.

Patrick reaches for David, and David’s face lights up as he sinks onto the couch next to him and pulls him into a hug.  “Hi,” Patrick says, still half-asleep.  It feels too easy, to have David right here with him, to be breathing into his shoulder like nothing ever went wrong.

“Hi,” David responds, rubbing his palms over Patrick’s back.  “Have a good nap?”

“Sorry I slept so much.”  He almost resents missing the time with David.  Time with David is far more interesting than sleeping.

“Not a problem,” David says.  “Gave me the chance to take the Camry out for another spin.”

“Ugh, you did the shopping again?”  

“I did, and thanks, by the way, for the detailed list.  Although I’m not sure that you needed to specify back-ups for each of the items. I’m pretty sure I could figure out what brand of tomato sauce to buy if your top choice wasn’t available.”

“That list wasn’t meant for you,” Patrick grumbles.  “I just like having a plan.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”  David kisses Patrick again, and stands up despite Patrick’s grabby hands.  It feels so good to have David close to him, he doesn’t want to let go. “You go freshen up while I finish, if I don’t get the water going it’ll be forever until we can eat.”

Patrick uses the bathroom and puts some after-sun lotion on his face, where a bit of color is just appearing on his nose and cheeks.  It doesn’t take much.  He needs to remember to use sunscreen down here, or else he’s going to turn into a lobster.

When he comes out, David is working on the Bolognese, and there’s a large pot of water heating on the stove.  

“That smells great,” Patrick says, leaning around David to check out the sauce.  He lets his hand linger on David’s waist.  David has put on a pair of his own black jeans, but he’s still wearing Patrick’s dark green t-shirt from this morning.  It stretches enticingly across David’s shoulders as he stirs the pot.

“You still like this, right?”  David asks.  “You haven’t become a vegetarian, or anything like that?”

Patrick laughs.  “If didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have put the ingredients on the list.”  

David has set out dishes and silverware on the kitchen island where they had their breakfast.  The room also has a small round table, but it’s covered in piles of all the junk mail that has been delivered since his parents were last here, and the groceries David bought this afternoon.

There’s a bottle of wine there too, the one Patrick had listed as his top choice on the list he made earlier.  It’s an easy to drink table red that he remembered being able to buy when he was visiting his parents last winter, with a very high class screw top.  He thinks David will like it, and it will pair well with the tomato sauce.

Patrick opens the bottle and searches around in the cabinets for two matching wine glasses.

“Oh, um, none for me, thanks,” David says as Patrick sets the two glasses down next to their plates.

“You sure?  It’s not fancy, but it’s not as bad as Herb’s fruit wine, either.”  Patrick is surprised, but not particularly so, not until he turns and sees the deer-in-headlights look on David’s face.  “David?  You okay?”

“What?  Oh, yeah.  It’s fine.”

Patrick watches David as he slowly empties the box of pasta into the boiling water, giving the task quite a bit more attention than it needs.  Deciding not to push, he screws the cap back on the bottle of red and puts it down on the table, and exchanges the wine glasses for water glasses.

David turns to him, his face scrunched up and pained.  “You can have wine.”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“No, I mean, just because I’m not having any, it’s okay if you do.”  

“I get that, thanks.”

David shakes his head.  “So why did you put the wine away?”

“It’s not as much fun if it’s just me.”  Patrick realizes that this might not be the best thing to say as soon as the words leave his mouth, but he can’t quite figure out how to fix it.  

After a few moments of awkward silence, David speaks up, keeping his eyes on the stove.  “I’m not an alcoholic.  And I’m not going to fall off the wagon if there’s a glass of wine in my vicinity.”

Patrick thinks back to the many evenings they spent curled up on the couch with a glass of wine, whether something cheap from Brebner’s or a reserve vintage they nabbed from the store.  He’s never known David to have a problem with alcohol.  Between the two of them, Patrick was the lightweight, and much more likely to get tipsy.  Clearly there has to be a reason for David’s decision to abstain, whether it qualifies as alcoholism or not, but given how nervous David looks, Patrick wants to tread lightly.

“You can tell me as little or as much as you want to about why you’re not drinking, David.  It’s okay no matter what the reason.”

Patrick’s standing close enough to David that he can see him swallowing hard, trying to keep his composure.  The last thing he wants is to send them off the rails into another emotional meltdown.  David clearly feels put on the spot, and that’s not what he meant to do.  He certainly doesn’t want David to feel like he’s being judged.  It would be the worst kind of hypocrisy at this point.

Patrick clears his throat a little, not sure how to launch this discission, but then decides to jump right in.  “You know, the night I was attacked, with Jamie, I was hammered.  Wasted.  I made some bad decisions that I probably wouldn’t have made if I was sober.”

David steps away from the pot of boiling water and stares at Patrick.  “What are you talking about?”

Patrick recognizes David’s “I need a minute to catch up” phrase, and understands.  He wishes he could have found a way to work this into conversation more smoothly, but there is a connection, and he needs to get it out.  However he goes at it, the explanation is a rough one, and Patrick’s been stumbling over it in his own mind for a week now.  At least if he manages to spit it out, he might be able to come to terms with it.

“My aunt had asked me to get together with Jamie to check in on him, saying he was having a hard time at university.  But really she was asking Jamie to check in on me.  I wasn’t doing well – I hadn’t found a new job, wasn’t even really looking, and I was pretty miserable.  So I let Jamie convince me that going out with him and his college friends was a good look for a thirty-something guy, and I sat at the bar all night and drank tequila shots.”

“But you don’t even like tequila,” David says, breathless.

“No, I don’t.  It’s disgusting.”

“It is.” David nods sympathetically. He takes Patrick by the arm and pulls him out of the kitchen, sitting him down on the couch and letting his hands rest on his shoulders.  “Okay.  Tell me the rest.”

Patrick is almost thankful that David won’t let him end the story there.  It’s time to get it out.  “Jamie was flirting with another guy, some other kids started talking shit, and I got up to intervene, thinking I would save the day and defend him.  I imagined myself some kind of hero.  But I was so drunk, whatever I was saying was just making it worse.  I wasn’t being clever, I was just being loud and aggressive.  Jamie dragged me outside, trying to avoid trouble.  But the asshole kids followed us out, and that’s when it got physical.”

“Patrick.”  David’s eyes are wide, and he stares at Patrick for a long moment, then pulls him into his arms.  “I’m so sorry,” David says, holding him tight.  “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry too,” Patrick says.  “It’s fucking embarrassing.”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong-”

“I kind of did,” Patrick corrects him, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his face into David’s hair.  “I’m not blaming the victim here, but this was more your run-of-the-mill bar fight than a hate crime.  I was blitzed off my ass, I said some stupid stuff to some hyped-up kids practically half my age, and I got beat up.”

“You only got in a fight because you were defending your cousin,” David says.  “Who was the target of homophobic animals.”

“I’ll accept 90% bar fight, 10% hate crime,” Patrick says, sinking into David’s embrace.

“At least fifty-fifty.”  David’s big hand is holding Patrick’s head against his own.  Patrick shifts a little, and then he’s sitting in David’s lap, surrounded by David’s arms, his scent, his breath.

“I feel like an idiot,” Patrick says softly, and David shakes his head in denial.  

“You’re not an idiot.”

“Wouldn’t you be embarrassed if you got yourself into that situation?”  Patrick asks.

David rubs his hands up and down Patrick’s back, and his sore muscles twinge, but Patrick doesn’t pull away.  It feels too good to be wrapped up in David like this.  “Maybe a little.  But they <i>assaulted</i> you.  No matter what you said to them, that’s criminal.”  David turns his face and his nose presses into Patrick’s hair.  “Did you talk to the police?  Do you want to talk to our lawyer?  Now that my family has money again, she’s returning our calls.”

“No, I reported it, the guy who kicked me is probably pleading out.  I didn’t want to have to deal with it.”

“And so you booked a flight to Florida.”

“I did.”

The timer on the stove goes off and they both jump, Patrick regretting it instantly as his ribs protest.

“Oh, god, sorry, are you okay?” David babbles, his hands reaching to steady Patrick as they untangle themselves.

“I’m fine,” Patrick says with a smile.  He gives David’s hand a squeeze and then they make their way into the kitchen to deal with their dinner, Patrick searching for a strainer for the pasta as David turns off the heat.  They work together easily, plating their food and digging in, and their conversation returns to mundane things like whether Patrick’s version of Bolognese is appropriate even though it’s made with ground beef, and why flat pasta tastes better than round pasta.  

They’ve finished loading the dishwasher and putting away their leftovers when David stops wiping the counter and turns to Patrick, one hand on his hip.  “So, you don’t care if I don’t drink?”  David’s face is studiously neutral, but Patrick can tell he’s nervous about Patrick’s answer.

“Nope.  I really don’t.  It’d be good for me to stop, too.  At least for a while.”

David holds Patrick’s gaze, and for a moment Patrick thinks he’s going to argue, but then he just nods.  “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They migrate to the couch, and David turns on another cooking show (this one has the contestants running through a grocery store to find their ingredients, and it makes Patrick think about David at the nearby supermarket this afternoon, patiently going through Patrick’s ridiculously detailed list to find the 15 oz cans of organic, fire-roasted petite diced tomatoes), and before he knows it Patrick is nodding off.

“Hey.”

Patrick opens his eyes, finding David looking at him from the other end of the couch.

“Want to go to bed?”

Patrick squints to see the time on the clock in the kitchen.  “It’s not even nine.”

David shrugs.  “So?”  He stands up and holds out his hand.  “I’m open to an early night.”

It should bother him, this coddling from David, but it doesn’t.  After he got beat up, Patrick had quickly turned away his parents’ suggestion that he come home to recuperate.  At the time he was too upset about where he had ended up – alone, unemployed, and frankly feeling like an idiot for having let his life turn into such a mess – to let his family take care of him.  He can’t believe it was only a week ago.  And it was only forty-eight hours ago that he ran into David in the Milwaukee airport.  It’s crazy how quickly everything has changed.

Patrick takes David’s hand and lets him help him up off the couch.  He leans into David and tucks his face in the crook of his neck, and David hums reassurance and pats his shoulders.  David smells like garlic and onions and Rose Apothecary body milk, and Patrick wants to stay here forever.

“Sorry, you’ll fall asleep on your feet, and that won’t work for either of us,” David says, and Patrick realizes he must have said that last bit out loud that.  No harm done, it seems.

They take turns in the bathroom, and get changed into sleep clothes, David wearing the same striped t-shirt Patrick remembers from way back at Ray’s house.  “Okay if I read for a while?” David asks, propping a pillow behind himself.  He blinks at Patrick, his dark lashes hypnotizing, until Patrick rouses himself enough to respond.

“Of course.”  Patrick slides under the covers and tucks himself against David almost automatically, his drowsiness letting him get away with it without even feeling awkward.  David curls his arm around Patrick’s body, holding him close, and Patrick drifts off feeling better than he has in a long, long time.

#David x Patrick #Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #Hurt/comfort #Reunion

[mymelodyheart]

Highland Destiny Chapter 16 ~What's The Craic?~

Jamie was looking at Claire. 

"Stephen!? Oh, my God! What are you doing here?" Claire's eyes were wide with disbelief as she sat staring with gaping jaw at the man before them.

"Hello, little darling, how's my beautiful missus?" drawled the Irish stranger, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

Jamie, looking puzzled, observed the exchange. "Sassenach?"

Claire didn't hear Jamie. She was already stood on her feet, squealing with delight as she threw herself for a hug at the tall, broad Irish lad. Jamie instantly stood up, squaring his shoulders as he warily regarded the display of familiarity and intimacy. He sized-up the man and noticed he was as tall as him with dark chocolate brown hair, smiling blue eyes and bronzed skin - probably merited from a lot of outdoor activities, he thought. Not seeming to be aware of Jamie, the Irish lifted Claire off her feet and swung her nimbly around as she laughed, obviously happy to see him.

Jamie cleared his throat.

"Oh...sorry Jamie," she breathed, suddenly letting go of the newcomer. "Jamie, this is a very good friend of mine...Stephen. He was uncle Lamb's apprentice back in the days...Erm... Stephen, this is Ja-..."

"I'm James Fraser, Claire's fiance," Jamie interrupted in a deep voice, watching him with narrowed eyes as he extended his hands.

Stephen took Jamie's hand warmly in both of his and cocked an eyebrow at Claire. "Oh, you're engaged! Well...well...about time, lass. Congratulations in order then." He nodded good-humouredly at Jamie before winking at Claire.

"Oh, I can't believe you're really here. Are you on your own? Do you have time to sit with us for a bit?" she suggested eagerly. "It's been a very long while, and you have a lot of filling-in-the-gaps to do."

Jamie frowned at Claire, but she didn't notice.

Stephen glanced back at the party of eight sat at a big table looking at them. "Well...just for a few minutes. I'm here with the lads," he pointed with his thumb at the group behind him.

"Oh, that's great...take a seat. What would you like to drink?" Claire asked, signalling for the waiter with her hand.

Before Stephen could grab the chair next to Claire, Jamie offered his before taking the one close to her, placing his hand possessively on her thigh as he sat down.

"Oh thanks, a pint of Guinness would be grand," he smiled as he settled himself. "So, a wedding soon, eh? June bride perchance, Claire? You always wanted to be a June bride even before Frank came along. Too bad he wasn't much of a traditionalist."

"Frank was a practical man," she pointed out defensively. Sighing, Claire resumed, glancing at Jamie. "Actually, we don't have a date yet. We sort of got engage...well, in a hurry. No, that's not the right word... " she reflected. "Anyway, believe it or not, we got engaged yesterday."

Jamie coughed. "Well, we're hoping to get married soon aren't we sweetheart?" he added, his arms going around Claire's shoulders, pulling her for a sideways hug.

Claire gave Jamie a strange look.  Sweetheart?!? You never call me that!

Jamie returned the look with an innocent grin and a shrug.

Claire quickly changed the subject before Jamie could utter some more oddity. "Never mind me...so what have you been up to? And what are you doing in this neck of the woods?"

Stephen took a sip of his drink that just appeared and leaned back. "Well, I'm still ducking and diving, as usual. I've been indefinitely barred from some countries for smuggling artefacts and relics from archaeological sites. So now, I'm a certified Tree Surgeon back in Belfast. I'm not getting any younger...so I'm trying to clean up my act." He laughed in spite of himself. "And I'm with me' mates...we're headed for Skye tomorrow to a wedding party. Remember Phil? Phillip Wylie?"

Claire smiled as she recalled.

Stephen renewed, "Well, he's getting married at the end of this week to some rich Highland lass from Skye. It's a whole week event leading to the wedding. There will be brunches, picnics, cricket games, rugby and shinty going on for the guests. And at night time, there will be some Highland dancing and singing. They've booked the whole hotel for an entire week."

"Phillip Wylie... oh my word, so he's finally settling down. I've lost touch with him over the years after marrying Frank, and of course, I had my studies. Actually, Jamie and I are headed for Skye too...we're staying there for a few days."

"Really? The whole wedding party is staying at the Cuillin Hotel in Portree. You should come and join us for one of the brunch meals or games." Turning to Jamie, he asked in a casual tone, "You a sporting lad, Jamie? Ever played rugby or shinty? The groom and us, lads, we will be having a few friendly games in the next few days."

Not wanting to be outdone, he replied. "Aye, I'm very much into sports, and like a true Highland lad, born and bred, I play rugby and shinty....always have since I was a lad." Jamie straightened up from his chair to prove his body was used to physical activity, much to Claire's concealed amusement.

"Well, then how about stopping by one of these days at the hotel before the wedding?" Stephen proposed before turning to Claire. "Phil would be happy to see you, you know."

Claire shifted her attention to Jamie, her eyes hinting. "Jamie, what do you think? Maybe just for one morning or afternoon."

Jamie glanced at her eager face, uncertain of what to say.

Sensing an air of aloofness from the Scot, Stephen decided to step in. "Listen, mate, I'm sorry for calling your girl "me missus." He chuckled. "When Claire was a student, she used to visit the site Quentin was working on...her uncle Lamb that is, and as you already know, I was working for him as an apprentice. Well... sometimes our work was in the Middle East and over there, in certain countries, and back then, single females weren't allowed to be on their own and unchaperoned unless they were with a relative or spouse. And in certain Arabic countries, you can't even get a visa if you're a single female and travelling alone. And Quentin was sometimes too busy to accompany Claire. So, I knew this guy who faked certificates, and I had a fake marriage certificate made for us, so Claire can come and visit her uncle. At the worksite, she was always known as my missus."

Claire giggled at the memory. "Good lord, I don't know how we got away with it, but it worked!"

"So what say you, Jamie? You look like you have the size for a game of rugby," Stephen challenged.

Not one to back down on a dare, Jamie agreed, pleased to see Claire smile at his decision. "Aye, we'll be there. There's nothing like grappling in a scrum or body slamming in a tackle."

Claire suppressed a smile as she observed the verbal testosterone-charged contest, biting her tongue in case Jamie changes his mind.

After exchanging phone numbers, Stephen asked interestedly, "So how did you guys meet? In Oxford?"

"Well," Claire began, giving Jamie a quick look, " I left Oxford a few weeks back. I live and work in Inverness now, and we met when I moved there over five weeks ago...well, almost six now. Uncle Lamb has this cottage just on the outskirts ..."

"W-wait...what? You met five weeks ago, and you're already engaged?" Stephen cut in abruptly, his eyes darting from Jamie to Claire.

There was a moment of silence, each waiting for someone to say something.

"We're having a baby," Claire blurted out.

"We're in love," Jamie announced.

Suddenly, Jamie and Claire laughed when it registered they spoke at the same time as Stephen looked on, incredulous and bugged-eyed.

"Wow, a baby," Stephen whistled, not quite believing what he was hearing. "Well, I guess, it is what it is. Double congratulations then to you both."

"Weel, when ye know ye found the one, time is inconsequential," Jamie explained, beaming at Claire. "How about ye, Stephen, have ye found the one yet?"

Stephen didn't answer immediately as he contemplated on his next words, and when he finally did, there was a hint of despondency in his voice. "Aye, I did...once...a long time ago, but she had her sights on someone else," he admitted, lowering his eyes to disguise a well-kept secret. When he finally looked up, he glanced at Claire. "You know what's the most precious thing in the world? It's loving someone and having them love you back."

#melodyheart #highlanddestiny #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

[jakegyllenhaalsupportgroup]

Jack’s Story

So this is Jack’s Coming Out Story - I as a straight female have obviously never had to go through anything like this at all before so please read this and let me know if I’ve got anything wrong or if anything makes any of you uncomfortable and I’ll be more than happy to change it 

From the moment Jack had set eyes on him he had known he was fucked.

He had run into Robert in a cafe a little longer than a week into the term, the two of them having known each other as a result of Freshers week.

“Hey, Jack! How are you?” Robert beamed at the man. Jack adjusted his hat and took Robert’s hand with a smile.

“I’m good thanks, you?”

“Yeah, I’m good - I’m here with my roommate, have you met him?” Robert asked innocently.

“Don’t believe so, no,” Jack said with a shrug.

Robert stepped out of the way and Jack could have sworn he was in a shitty romance film with how everything else seemed to slow down just a little bit upon revealing the other man.

“Jack Twist,” he introduced, swallowing hard and offering his hand. The blond man nodded his head, taking the hand.

“Ennis Del Mar.”

Jack kind of wanted to hate the man from how he made his heart flutter just from one look. 

Jack had always known that he wasn’t like the other kids at home. The other boys, more like. But he came from such a conservative town from such old-fashioned parents that he knew there was no chance of him being able to come out back home.

It was part of the reason why he had been so eager to move out of state for university, to get away from the small town and the people with equally small minds.

Back home he had tried to hide his sexuality when people began to get suspicious through dating a girl. Lureen. She was a rider. 

Jack had broken up with her after a few months. Well, she had really broken up with him but he always said he was the reason for their split. Which, truthfully, he was. Lureen had cottoned on to the longing looks Jack would give to the other boys in their classes. She had him figured out.

Though she had swore not to tell, knowing that it was an important aspect of Jack’s life that he needed to sort out himself.

Lureen had also met Jack’s parents before and knew exactly what their reaction would be.

But the damage had been done and the rumours surrounding Jack’s sexuality had begun to die down.

Even without the whispers following him everywhere he still had to get away.

///

Jack took every step he could in avoiding Ennis.

Only lately, mind. The past few weeks. Before that, the two of them had been close. Ennis was a dark, brooding man who Robert declared could only be brought to laughter by Jack.

And Jack had been more than willing to keep him laughing.

A part of him had even, genuinely, begun to think that Ennis liked him back in the same way that he liked him.

As soon as he found out about Alma, though, he hated himself for the hope that left a bitter-taste in his mouth now.

“I thought Ennis was coming?” Jake asked, his arm wound around Y/N’s shoulder, holding her to his chest and he kissed her temple lovingly.

Jack hated the jealousy that boiled in his stomach at the sight of such gentle domesticity.

“He is - but I think he’s bringing his girlfriend.” Robert said from the other end of the table where him and Donnie were attempting to talk Lou into taking shots with them.

“His girlfriend?” Jack asked, snapping to attention. Jake and Y/N looked at him in surprise at his sudden question. 

Morf frowned just a little at him from his place next to Jerry. Morf’s arm was around his flavour of the week - a man called Ed that the rest of the group liked but Quentin wasn’t so sure about since he had thought Derek was just a really long, misshapen rat and had thought Quentin was playing a joke on him when he tried to explain that a ferret was a real animal, not something made up in Lord of the Rings.

Jack felt another surge of jealousy at that. That Morf was able to be exactly who he was around everyone else without feeling worried about being rejected.

Admittedly, Morf probably would have been the one to talk to about Ennis and Jack’s feelings for him. But there was no way that Jack was going to go through with that.

“Yeah - Alma, I think? He’s been seeing her for a month and a bit now? She’s really nice,” Robert confirmed.

Jack felt his heart drop.

For the two weeks since meeting Alma, Jack had done anything and everything that meant he could avoid seeing her or Ennis again.

///

“Jack, dude, talk to us, yeah?” Jake asked. Edward was stood right behind him, worry clearly written across his face as the two men watched the First Year university student cry on Jake’s doorstep.

“Come inside, Jack. We’ll make you some tea and you can talk to us about it?” Edward suggested. Jack wiped his eyes roughly with his sleeve and nodded.

“Sorry,” he rasped.

“Don’t even worry about it, dude. Go into the living room with Ed and I’ll make us all something to drink, yeah?”

Jack nodded and allowed Edward to lead him gently into Jake’s living room, one hand on his back to push him through.

Jake returned into the room five minutes later with five mugs of tea. Jack had taken off his hat and was running his hands through his hair, visibly stressed and beyond upset.

“I’m sorry to just barge in like this,” he finally said.

“Stop apologising, man. You know my place is basically just a refuge centre at this point,” Jake joked, raising his eyebrows at Edward. “I mean, Ed just comes over here whenever Jamie’s being too loud with a girl.” Jack breathed a shaky sigh.

“Where are the David’s?”

“They’re at astronomy society,” Jake said gently. 

“I - uh - I need to tell you two something,” Jack confessed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Yeah?” Jake probed, leaning towards him a little.

“I - I’ve never told anyone this before,” he said with a wet laugh, sniffing his tears away. Edward placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Take your time, Jack,” Edward said and Jack nodded, taking another deep breath.

“I - uh - I... I like... I... I don’t... like girls,” Jack saw Jake and Edward exchange a look.

“Alright,” Edward said at last. Jack looked at him in surprise.

“Is that... is that it?” Jack asked. Jake chuckled, squeezing Jack’s shoulder.

“You’re still our friend, dude, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re the same guy you’ve always been and... and nothing’s going to change that, especially not your sexuality,” Jack bit his lip, trying hard not to smile.

“You really mean that?”

“Of course we do,” Edward chuckled. He brought Jack into a short hug. “If you need any support though, Jack, you know where we are. We’ll help you however you need us to,” Jack nodded.

“Thanks,” he breathed. “Could you... maybe not tell the others yet?”

“We wouldn’t take that away from you,” Jake promised.

///

“You want my advice?” Morf asked, raising his eyebrows at Jack.

It had been a slow process but by two weeks after coming out for the first time, all of his closest friends knew he was gay.

Apart from Ennis.

Though Jack wasn’t exactly sure where they stood on the whole ‘friend thing’ anymore anyway. 

“Well... you’ve clearly told guys you like them before,” Jack pointed out and Morf chuckled, raising his chai latte to his lips.

“It’s the same as telling girls you like them,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Funnily enough I haven’t done that either,” he pointed out.

“Who’s the guy?” Morf asked curiously. Jack dropped his gaze to the cafe table. “Is it Ennis?” Jack’s head snapped up and he looked around, wide eyed and worried.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” He hissed and Morf lent back with a smirk on his face.

“I knew it - I’ve known it since that night we met Alma,” he declared.

“Great. Congratu-fucking-lations. I’m so proud of you. Have a gold star,” Jack muttered.

“Ennis likes you too,” Morf said and Jack rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence but he has a girlfriend. I’m hopeless but I’m not stupid,” Jack spat.

“Have you seen the way Ennis looks at you?” Morf asked gently. Jack looked up and shook his head, swallowing. “I have. You should talk to him. Or try to.” Silence fell over the friends and Jack mulled over Morf’s advice. “And if that fails then I know some great gay bars that no one else will come with me to.”

///

“Robert’s not in,” Ennis said, opening the door to his dorm room, visibly surprised to see Jack on the other side.

“I know. I was just with him.” Jack nodded. “I need to... I need to talk to you.”

“First time in a while,” Ennis pointed out with a wry smile but stepped back to allow Jack to enter into his room.

The only time Jack had ever seen Ennis without his hat was in his dorm room. He thought that it made him look softer, without the hat. A look Jack couldn’t deny he adored on Ennis.

Jack seated himself on Robert’s bed and Ennis sat on his own, opposite Jack.

Jack’s eyes scanned the room and his heart clenched when they landed on the photo of Alma Ennis had on his desk. He tore his eyes away and settled them back on Ennis, who was watching him expectantly.

“I have to tell you something,” Jack admitted.

“Yeah?”

“I... I’m gay,” coming out had gotten easier for Jack the more he had done it. And yet with the way his throat constricted with the words it felt like the first time all over again.

It was even worse waiting for Ennis’ reaction than it had been waiting for Jake and Edward’s.

He knew Ennis came from a town even more conservative than his own.

“Oh... right.” Ennis swallowed, avoiding making eye contact with Jack. “That’s... that’s fine.” 

Ennis looked like he was in physical pain as he spoke.

“That’s not all,” Jack admitted with a sigh. Ennis’ eyes widened, panic clear in them.

“That’s not it?”

“No... I’m sorry, Ennis,” Jack whispered. Hot tears built in his eyes.

He couldn’t do this.

But he had to.

“I just... I wanted to let you know that... that if I’ve been acting weird lately around you... around Alma.... it’s... I like you Ennis Del Mar.” 

“I’m not gay,” Ennis immediately snapped.

“I know... I just... had to tell you,” Jack’s voice was hoarse and he stood up. “I’ll... I’ll leave,” he decided, seeing Ennis’ stricken face.

Jack was down the hallway towards the stairs, tears threatening to fall when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Jack! Jack wait!” Jack turned at the sound of Ennis’ voice.

He wasn’t given time to respond before it happened.

Ennis’ lips felt better than he had ever imagined.

#courts writings #Jake College Multiverse #Jake Gyllenhaal Cinematic Universe #JGCU #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jack twist #jack twist fanfiction #jack twist imagine #jack twist x ennis del mar #ennis del mar #edward sheffield #robert graysmith #morf vandewalt

[postpunkpontypandyphantomthief]

Sick (Multiple Characters x reader)

(Kevin Turvey)

you arrived at the BBC studios, to start production work, but something was off, the weather was quite cold and you didn't have a scarf

you carried on working but between your camera work loud sneezes were overheard "Sorry, take two" you'd say, then you sneezed again and again"

the producer said, "Y/N I don't believe you're well enough to work today"

"What are you talking about?" you shouted to let out a loud sneeze, your head drowsy as your throat felt dry

the producer said, "that's exactly what I meant"

you stood up rubbing your nose, while the other cast members looked before going back to what they were doing

you walked back to the staff room, to relax until the planned episode had been filmed and aired

it was the afternoon, you were sitting in the staff room, stuffing your face with sandwiches, ignoring the snot running down your face and your groans feeling like you were a disgrace when you heard the door creak,you saw a familiar face walk in,he was one of the cast members,he had a patterned black and white shirt over a blue and red anorak,he took it off as he sat next to you on the sofa

"Hey,Y/N how are you?" he said in his high pitched Redditch dialect

"I'm miserable and sick" you responded bluntly

" I hear lemons are good when your sick" he said

he walked over to the counter and prepared some tea, as well as a small lemon cake, he placed the lemon cake on a plate and brought it over to the coffee table,

"a Lemon a day keeps Kevin Turvey away," he said, while he snorted a giggle and wiped your nose with a tissue

you chuckled "shut up!" before regaining your composure "Thank you" you then sipped the tea and ate the cake while Going Underground by The Jam played on the radio nearby,

you moved the saucer of leftover lemon cake aside "How about you try some lemons?"

Kevin grinned "Well I've never investigated that before"  he then took a big bite into a slice of lemon that was falling out of one of the cakes, he stuck his tongue in disgust screaming, you smirked at him "I thought that made you less sick" Kevin tried spitting it out as he ran out the staff room cringing "Yeah, well now I'm the one sick thanks for that" you erupted into laughter

he laughed back, he then did a trick with his ear (flipping his ear over only for it to pop back into place), "If I'm that good at healing people I could be a doctor" you scoffed "I don't think I'd trust you with time travel" he scoffed back "Why?, there would be lots of cool things, places and people to investigate"

(Rest home Ricky) (WARNING: References to mental health)

it was one of those times, ever since you got admitted into Denton, you'd occasionally get to leave but other times you were stuck there, under observation while sat in your room looking at your laptop,your laptop was more productive at times than you were,they were limitless, while you had limitations,you would overindulge,you would question your empathy and sympathy for people,you would overthink intensely resulting in some compulsive behaviour and stomach pain,that's why you were sometimes in Dentonvale

it was where you were safe, unlike the unhelpful counsellers of the past you had been to, the people of Dentonvale did care for their patients, after the whole Farley Flavours drama, Nation and Cosmo just stole the money to improve their business

you sat, listening to music, you liked the melodies and lyrics, but the overthinking still lurked, you tried to dream to escape it but instead you encountered intrusive thoughts, flashbacks and you were arguing with yourself, this gave you a headache and pains in your stomach, you undid your headphones and picked aggressively at your ear and lips,you felt sweaty, confused and it didn't stop by the time someone had visited your room, half of your right ear was bleeding and your lips were dryer than your throat.

you kept mumbling "make it stop, it's just telling me lies, but because the lies are sometimes true it makes it hard to tell if it's true or not, I'm a horrible person, why can't I naturally feel emotion sometimes,why do I do this to myself,why is my mind never satisified,I've moved on from my past why does my mind always play the worst parts of my memory film reel,I'm nothing,I say I will stop overthinking but I don't do I? do I?"

"Y/N"

you blinked you didn't know one of the staff would overhear the rambling

"Oh! sorry I," you paused staring as your body lightly shook

Rest home Ricky walked over "What's wrong Y/N"

you quietly mumbled "I feel like I'm living a lie, I should be grateful about the life I have and I try to be honest, but each time I think I'm improving I have an episode or a moment of intrusive voices putting words into my mouth,I have low empathy sometimes that must mean I'm an emotionless mess with no morals right?,I've moved on from the past, but the film reels of then keep playing at the worst times, I'm such a rude, ungrateful person,"

he tried to help settle you, he lightly rested his hands on your shoulders while he reassured you

"your not living a lie, your brain is just mean to you sometimes, everyone has their weak moments,your intrusive thoughts don't define you, even if you can't physically show feelings,you still show them emotionally and your emotions are still valid, as long as you know your morals and that they don't harm you or others, that's fine"'

you sniffled "but...the memories,I know it's not relevant but they keep reappearing"

he rubbed calming circles on your back "it's ok I'm here, all of that is in the past now, don't let the paranoid voices get to you, your a smart, considerate, determined person"

he paused "Now how do you feel?"

you looked up "a bit stressed, but I can get through it, you've helped calm me down a bit I still have a bit of a pain in my stomach and head though

he observed "I see, I also see your ear is bleeding a bit, that might've resulted from your compulsive behaviour hang on I'll be right back" he walked off and came back with a small bowl of water, some tissues, ointment creams and some medicine

he dipped the tissue into the water and moved it around the areas of the ear that were bleeding, he used the other tissues to dry your eyes and nose, he rubbed some lip balm over your lips and dissolved some tablets into an easy to consume soft drink concoction,you picked up the drink and sipped it slowly, later he brought in some pasta "Just eat what you can" he said as he waved before leaving the room, you scooped up the pasta pieces with your spoon and ate most of them up before you dozed off to sleep.

(Rick,The Young Ones)

one of those weekends, where you'd order take away, either the order was wrong, or that you've had food poisoning

it was the day after you were a wreck, taking up space on the sofa like a tired cat, you could feel the sweat through your dressing gown,you had eaten a few things,but still felt horrifically sick, slumped on your pillow  

Vyvyan had went out,Mike was being Mike and Neil was busy gardening,Rick ran downstairs only to see what you were up to

he looked up at you "How do you feel Y/N?"

you groaned "not good,I think I've been poisoned" you felt like you were going to vomit again

he gasped melodramatically "POISONED!, by what? Edwina Currie's eggs, Jamie Oliver's salads...Neil's lentils?"

you shook your head "Nah none of that, I ordered take away but they might've overcooked it and I ate too much of it, ugh"

he sat down next to you "Have you seen a doctor about this?"

you bulged your eyes out "I haven't been to a GP in ages what are you on about?"

he wasn't happy he slapped his hands together "Alright, that's it your going to a doctor"

you tried to make an excuse "no need Rick, no need I'm fine it's not that bad"

bubbling noises could be heard from your stomach

he got his coat and hat and fidgeted about for his keys "I don't want to hear it, you are seeing a doctor"

you coldly joked "that's Vyvyan's car, how do I know if you can even drive?"

he ran inside Vyvyan's car, and turned on the engine, and smirked "the things extracurricular sociology can teach you"

he drove Vyvyan's car to the closest walk-in clinic there was,medicine was prescribed and then they were back home

you watched some tv, you browsed social media, but you forgot to take the medicine, luckily later on Rick reminded you

and while you were there on the sofa covered in a blanket, feeling  like your mouth was a rubbish bin, he was there to cuddle you, until you eventually got better, the next day he didn't bother Vyvyan he was too busy making sure you were alright,you kinda liked the attention and he kinda liked that someone was taking his advice for once and Vyvyan liked that Rick was more quiet than usual.

(Richie Rich)

it was mid Spring,a stomach bug had been going round,Catflap caught it,Richie caught it....now you caught it

you were a production person who had met up richie and catflap in the 2000s,you became showbiz pals instantly

you hated getting sick, you clutched onto your stomach as you leaned back your pillow wasn't comfy and you felt slouched

Catflap decided to change the pillow for you,as Richie Rich had walked back in looking at you to see if you were getting any better

the local GP was full up,so when he came back he was in an unhappy mood "stupid Doctors,oh well we can treat you here,I've never played that role before" he smirked before prancing off to his room and arriving back in a nurse costume

"I'm in hell" you joked as you leaned back into your position on the sofa, Richie frolicked about "so I diagnose you with....a stomach infection" as he messed about with a clipboard and pen, Catflap scoffed "it's a virus, Richie common colds don't make you vomit excessively"

Richie was disgusted slightly "Uhh, well that must not feel nice at all, my treatment shall be a cup of tea"

Catflap laughed, "a cup of tea?, would you prescribe someone with the bubonic plague a cup of tea?"

Richie grinned "YES, I would, have you watched casualty before?"

Catflap cringed as Richie prepared a cup of tea he messed up with the first cup so let catflap drink that, while he handed the second good cup to you"

he can gave you medicine as he overdramatically posed next to you, still in costume, looking at you with a random bag of first aid equipment he had in the basement

it felt nice,you kinda liked how he was doting on you even if it was a bit over the top, with Catflap being the assistant

when he posed in an animated way when giving your temperature,Filthy Ralph arrived "What are you queens up to,reenacting some Japanese cartoon" Edward Catflap paused, pulled up his suspenders a bit "Now,Ralph that's a bit offensive of you,the japanese make great television"

#the young ones #Filthy rich and catflap #shock treatment #kevin turvey #fanfic #x reader #fluff #rest home ricky #rick pratt #richie rich #edward catflap #short story