#listen I know he has the southern gentleman accent

[blitzendoggo]

*clears throat* Appalachian accent Goodbid Thank you

[obsolescent]

This Side of Paradise - Part One

Part Two

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x GN!Reader

Summary: Kyle and you are roommates–flatmates–while you study abroad in the UK. He’s usually gone due to his work and it doesn’t bother you, at first. You like being alone and like little company, but you start to feel an odd pang after a traumatic event happens that causes him to come back from base early. 

Category/Prompt: Two-part series | "I'll take care of you."

Author's Notes: Ahhh I'm so excited to be participating in @glitterypirateduck's GazFest! I've been meaning to finish this and this has given me that push. This is also the first event I've participated in on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Swearing, mentions of a fire but not very descriptive, reader is from the southern US, reader is more introverted, Kyle is worried for your wellbeing.

Word Count: 1,267

Another night studying, another night alone. You don’t mind, being more on the reclusive side. You really don’t mind having to interact with others, you just prefer not to. Speaking of which, you quite enjoy having a roommate–flatmate, as he would say–that’s hardly home. He doesn’t correct you in a rude way, more like he’s trying to teach you to use more of the dialect here. He’s gone for months at a time every once in a while, typically it’s just a few weeks, then he’s back for a month and the cycle repeats. It has to do with the military, but that’s all he would say about his line of work. You have a part time job at a gas–petrol, he would correct you again–station. The cultural difference between home and here is a lot more than you were expecting, having been in America your whole life to suddenly being “across the pond.”

Though the interactions you have with people here are very amusing, the double takes when people hear you at work has you “hooting and hollering”, so to speak. Most ask for you to keep talking, interested in your accent. It’s led to a few good conversations, if you’re being honest. There’s a handful of some, though, who’ve heard you speak and think you’re dumber than a bag of rocks and let you know so. Those aren’t as amusing. Regardless, it’s been a pleasant experience overall while staying in the UK, especially with the one you’re rooming with.

Meeting Kyle was by chance. He had listed his…flat, on a website that helps students around the world find accommodation close to colleges and universities. You had seen in the listing that he wasn’t home often, and being more of an introvert, that seemed like the best option for you. You had reached out and agreed on a time to chat. He was more than what you were expecting in every which way. Charismatic, kind, funny, and definitely including looks. He’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. You’re glad he’s away for the most part, having someone around looking like that would surely be a distraction for you.

After that first initial conversation with Kyle, you were sure he would be the one you would be living with while studying abroad. After getting everything sorted out, between speaking with your advisor and obtaining a passport, you were set to fly out. Kyle practically demanded he pick you up and take you to your shared quarters, since the airport was quite a drive away from the apartment. He also mentioned wanting to show you around some. Ever the gentleman. Thankful for his offer at being a free tour guide, you take him up on the offer. You were glad to have met someone willing to help out and be so generous towards you, it was in his nature and you knew just by his interactions with you that he did this for everyone that came into his life.

Back to the present, it’s a Tuesday night, and there’s not much going on for you. After leaving work, you came home and made a quick dinner for yourself and settled down on the couch for a study session. You slide your earbuds in, unable to focus if it’s an actual song, and listen to sounds of nature, rain and the like. Hours have passed since you’ve immersed in your college work, sounds blaring through the speakers in your ears. You don’t realize the fire alarm has started blaring.

What finally gets you to notice is the sudden phone call that cuts the sounds out, a call from Kyle. He must’ve received an alert. “Hey–woah–I just noticed that–” “Bloody Hell! Are you still in the flat? Get outside! Christ!” You don’t even think, your brain going into panic mode, you snatch your shoes from beside the door and run for the stairs. You’re on the fifth floor, happy that you can see so much of the city, but not so happy in the event of a fire, like now. You’re not sure where the fire is located, you’re just hoping it won’t prevent you from reaching the exit. ‘What the hell would I even do if it is? Don’t think like that, just keep running, just keep going don’t think about it–’

“Are you there, love? You alright? Please say something–” Kyle’s frantic voice finally breaks through your internal monologue, earbuds still secured in your ears. “S-sorry, Kyle, I was just…I’m on my way down, I’m on the third floor now.” Your feet carrying you faster than you’ve ever ran before, you’re not seeing anyone else on the stairs…God, how long has the alarm been going off? What about the sprinkler system, why hasn’t it turned on already?’ “Thank God, it’ll be alright, just take some deep breaths and keep pushing, yeah? You’ll be outside before you know it. I’m right here with you.” His reassurance is welcomed, taking his advice, you begin some breathing exercises the best you can while scurrying down the flights of stairs.

Second floor, almost there. You feel like you’re flying down the steps, everything numb. You round the corner, about to hit the top step of the next flight when you see it. Fuck, that’s smoke. “K-Kyle, the fire, it’s on the second floor.” You begin to cough, covering your nose and mouth with your sleeve. “Fucking hell. Go back up to the previous floor. The hallway windows should have an external fire escape. Try those, yeah?” You nod your head even though he cannot see, trying to breathe like he told you to. You push the door open into the third floor’s hallway, the window to your right just a few feet away. You rush to it, having to yank on the window a few times before it pries open.

It’s one of those ladders that retracts, the end of it about 20 feet from the ground without the extension. You try releasing the mechanism that will release the other part to extend fully, but it won’t budge. You toss your shoes to the ground below, beginning to brace yourself to drop the rest of the way. “Did you get it?” You hear him ask, shuffling coming from his side of the call. “Y-yeah I got it, the ladder won’t extend all the way, fall’s maybe 20 feet.” “You can do it, love, just tuck your chin and lower your head when you drop. May be bruised and cut up some, but you’ll be alright, you can do it.” You get to the last rung, letting yourself dangle for a moment before taking the leap, literally. You take a deep breath and let go.

You hit the ground with an explosion of pain in your left arm. Letting out a cry of pain you hold onto your arm, moving other limbs in different directions to check their conditions. Kyle yells your name, “Hey! I need you to answer me, are you alright? What’s wrong?” Kyle cuts through the fuzziness in your brain. “F-Fuck. My arm, I think I broke it.” You begin to stand on shaky legs, testing the rest of your endurance. You falter and collapse to the ground, absolutely exhausted. The adrenaline must have worn off now that you’re no longer in immediate danger.

You lay your head back against the concrete, staring up at the night sky. The moon is bright and beautiful, hanging low. It’s the last thing you see before you slip into unconsciousness, Kyle calling your name over and over again lost to oblivion.

Tags: @sofasoap, since you tag me in your Gaz fics!

[smolandweirdwriter]

Serafina and The Black Cloak Reread Thoughts: Chapter Three

Babe wake up new slang just dropped: “gnawin’ on leather” 

Her pa doesn’t like mr poe gives “my dad won’t let us watch horror movies so you have to sneak them over in a different dvd cover if we’re gonna watch a horror movie when you sleep over later tonight” omg rowena & serafina girltime au?? (Lol sorry)

Oooooh the dynamo’s busted I wonder what thaaat meeeaannnssss (hehehe)

Biltmore being one of the few homes to have electricity is a nice reminder of the time period

“she’d been trying to follow [her pa’s] rules at least some of the time” lol

“Spotting an upholstered chair she felt an overwhelming desire to run her fingernails over the plush fabric” REAL

Her being shocked at flower vases & the idea of flowers INSIDE the house is so funny

Awwww poor sera, looking for her momma and siblings everywhere…

Serafina is super smart. just putting that out there. She’s brilliant and I love her

Oop the first description of Edith Vanderbilt kinda gives chatgpt-generated ngl (obviously it wasn’t bc it predates chatgpt & shitty ai writing generators, & this book is SO MUCH BETTER than anything an AI could generate regardless) 

“A refined and attractive woman, Mrs. Vanderbilt had a pale complexion and a full head of dark hair, and she seemed at ease in her role of hostess as she moved through the room.” Idk what about this makes me think “AI generated” but it just DOES

“Serafina loved to climb the tapestries at night and run her fingernails down through the soft fabric” AGAIN SHES SO REAL FOR THIS

OHOHOHO MR THORNE NAMEDROP:

“I’m sure that most of you already know Mr. Montgomery Thorne,”… Mrs. Vanderbilt said with a gentle sweep of her arm toward a gentleman. “He has graciously offered to play [the violin] for us today.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Mr. Thorne said with a smile as he stepped forward. ... To Serafina, who’d been listening to Biltmore’s visitors her entire life, he didn’t sound like he came from the mountains of North Carolina, or from New York like the Vanderbilts. He spoke with the accent of a southern gentleman, maybe from Georgia or South Carolina.”

Serafina having an eye for fashion was NOT what I was expecting from this reread lol (she describes mr t’s outfit then says “all of which she thought went nicely with his silvery-black hair and perfectly trimmed sideburns”)

Hmmm interesting she actually sympathizes with/likes mr Thorne at first?? I did nOT recall that

Lol serafina liking to watch mr Thorne’s fingers move as he plays and wanting to pounce on them is so Cat of her

OMG BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN BRAEDEN

Apparently he looks “sickly, a little frail even” which I do not recall, but hes also got “watchful, sensitive brown eyes” and “a rather fetching tussle of wavy brown hair”

“Are you lost?” WE GOT IT WE GOT THE LINE but more importantly we got the NEXT LINE which is “May I help you find your way?” And hes described as not timid or shy but also not overly confident which I LOVE (fun fact this line is very similar to one of the characters of my other favorite kid’s book series, Keefe Sencen’s “you must be lost” line)

Lol Braeden always sharing his food with Gideon annoys the chefs i LOVE him

OMG HE BOWS TO HER WHEN SHE GIVES HIM HIS NAME LIKE SHE’S A PROPER LADY!!!!! MEN!!!! TAKE NOTES!!!!!! THIS IS HOW IT’S DONE!!!

Name drop at last, missing girl’s name is Clara Brahms. Honestly I’m a little sad Clara isnt a recurring character later on. Braeden, Serafina, and Clara could’ve been a good trio 

OOOOHH “She had heard the servants in the kitchen joke that their master must have secretly found the Fountain of Youth” what a NICE SET UP for how the black cloak keeps people young & serafina’s suspicion of mr Vanderbilt

Mr Vanderbilt: *wears dress shoes to go riding*

serafina: criminal activity right there. Lock him up

This was my favorite chapter so far, probably because it introduces us to so many different characters and moving parts. I like Mr. Vanderbilt a lot more than I remember (as a historical figure now that I know more about him & also as a character) and Braeden is, of course, perfect in every way.

[valentinesdaydate98]

The Secret in the Diner

Word count: 4.1k

Fandom: 91 Days

Pairing: Angelo Lagusa x reader

Disclaimer: English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar and/or spelling mistakes. The main love interest has a name, but I try not to be too descriptive. Thank you!

The chilly winds welcomed Joan with caresses on her flushed face as she strolled to her favorite diner on a quiet and late morning. What an agonizingly long morning! The dreadful crows of her roosters woke her from her deep slumber. Her house cats, who scratched her bedroom door, collided with the loud squeaks and playful nature of her little piglets outside her room. This morning was rougher than usual. The only thing pushing her through was her morning prayer. She prayed for a break from her mundane, soul-sucking life. In a rare turn of events, her neighbor offered to look after her animals for a day. After years of being trapped in her barn, she felt blessed by her neighbor’s offer. There is so much freedom, yet so little time. So little that she didn’t bother to change her disheveled clothes as she traveled deep into the city, away from her lonesome little town.

As Joan entered the diner, she greeted the friendly waitress, who ran up to Joan, surprised by Joan’s rare visits.

“Good morning, Joan; it’s been a while. I assume business is booming, right?” The waitress asked.

Joan chuckled at the question. “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s booming, but it’s doing decent. Same customers and all, ma’am,” Joan said as her southern accent blossomed.

“Ma’am? Oh, please. You make me sound like I’m your grandmother. Just call me by my name,” the waitress said.

“Sorry, ma’am.” Joan snickered as she heard the waitress groan.

During their conversation, Joan couldn’t help but let her eyes roam around the diner. Architecture-wise, everything had remained unchanged since her last visit. The same old, yet beautiful, paintings of previous owners adorn the walls. The sound of jazz music from the record player was soothing the worries Joan carries in her heart. It’s the same genre her mother adored listening to and dancing to with Joan’s father. She couldn’t help but clutch onto her cross necklace as she looked around.

Then everything came to a halt as her eyes met the dull pair of eyes of a gentleman with a cap on. The colorful atmosphere of the diner, in contrast with his almost black-and-white clothing, made him stick out like a sore thumb. He had a creepy aura that the average individual would stay away from. His pale porcelain skin and the small bags under his eyes. His face displayed a bored expression. However, in a split second, she noticed the blood behind his eyes. His soul is calling out for someone—someone to comfort him. For once, ease the burden off of his body. But how does one get his attention?

“Wow, what a handsome lad!” Joan exclaimed.

Margaret shrieked before she slapped her hand on Joan’s mouth and gripped her wrist, hoping the men didn’t hear Joan’s comments. The gentlemen didn’t seem to hear the ladies as they conversed.

“You can’t say such things out loud, Joan,” the waitress said.

“What? I’m stating the obvious. He’s a real sheik. Do you know who that gentleman is?” Joan asked as her heartbeat blocked out the sound of jazz music.

“No clue. I assume both are new in town. I’ve never seen those fellas before.” Margaret said.

Joan clapped at the revelation. “Splendid, I wish to speak with them both, particularly with the gentleman with the flat cap. I bet he knows how to treat a lady,” Joan said, with hearts floating around her head as she pulled away from Margaret’s tight grip. Margaret stood there, annoyed by her friend’s immodest thoughts and behavior. Oh, how she wanted to tug on Joan’s earlobe and scold her like a child. Unfortunately, once Joan was interested in a man, nothing would stop her from snatching him. Margaret sighed in defeat before returning to work.

Little did the ladies know, Joan would speak with Angelo Lagusa, the dangerous mafia member.

“Good morning, gentlemen. If it’s not any trouble, may I join you both for breakfast?” Joan asked as she sat up straight in her chair.

There was a pregnant pause as one of the two men looked dumbfounded at the request of a stranger. It’s not often a woman requests to spend time with both men.

The hazel-eyed man shrugged his shoulders before responding to her question. “Knock yourself out,” he said with a dull voice as he ate his breakfast. His bored attitude broke Joan into a sweat.

His partner, fortunately, had a more enthusiastic attitude about her request.

“What a lovely lady you are, and you have an adorable accent, too. Don’t worry about him; he’s a hardass. The name’s Nero, and this little fella is Avilio,” Nero said as he slapped Avilio’s back, though Avilio’s stoic expression remained.

“Pleased to meet you, sir; I’m Joan. Thank you both for letting me stay,” she stuttered, taken aback by the man’s preppy behavior. He went to shake her hand as she introduced herself to Nero and his friend? Sure, let’s go with that. What’s interesting is that Nero’s aura was stranger and creepier than Avilio’s. It was almost like she had seen him before, which was impossible. However, the icky feeling inside her was burdening her. She swore she felt this way before as an adolescent.

“Ah, a polite girl. If I didn’t have my hands tied up on business, I would’ve asked you out on a date.” Nero teased as he caressed her chin.

“Oh, I don’t think you can handle me, mister Nero. I’m a bit of a wild beast,” Joan said in a sultry voice as she fluttered her eyelashes.

“I have all the time in the world to get to know you, babe. Give me a time and a place.” Nero winked at her.

“You realize you don’t have time to fool around, right? Don’t get her hopes up,” Avilio reminded Nero, which resulted in Nero groaning and Avilio rolling his eyes.

“And you, newsboy? You’re rather quiet. Why is that?” Joan asked, trying to break the iceberg with him while she tugged on his suspenders.

Avilio shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing to add to the conversation, that’s all,” he said in a monotone voice that made Joan grind her teeth. She let go of his suspenders, slapping them across his chest. He can’t be this plain! What a blank canvas of a personality!

“I hate to bother you, little missy, but do you know any cheap motels nearby?” Nero asked.

“Not that I’m aware of. There is a small town, Khota, that has an auto camp. You can stay for free there,” Joan explained.

“Perfect, let’s go,” Avilio said as he stood up to put on his coat, leaving his half-eaten breakfast on the table.

“Aww, leaving already? Don’t you want to stay a bit?” Joan asked with a sultry voice as she crossed her legs.

However, Avilio looked unimpressed at her attempts at flirting. “Sorry, but we have business to attend to,” he said.

Joan whined at his insistence. “Can I come with you guys, please?” She pouted as she fluttered her eyelashes.

Before Avilio responded, a large, muscular man who reeked of cigarettes bumped into him. Though unfamiliar with Avilio, the sight of the man boiled Joan’s blood.

“Move it, bud. I ain’t got all day. Oh, Joan, it’s been a while. I see you’ve taken off those shackles. Are you still friends with those pigs of yours?” The man poked fun at her, earning him a glare.

“Not today, Mike. You know, it’s rare for me to have a day off. And for your information, those pigs are lovelier to be around than you,” she said.

Judging by the visible sweat marks on his clothing, despite the chilly winds and the foul odor from his mouth, Mike had been drinking earlier. He was the worst type of drunk—an excitable flirt.

“Ah, so you’re free tonight? It must be my lucky day. Hmmm, how much?” Mike smirked before eating Avilio’s half-eaten breakfast.

“Excuse me?” Joan asked, clutching her fists.

“What? A man has urges, and you do, too. I know you’re short on money, Doll, so do we have a deal?” Mike asked as he licked her lips and winked.

“Forgive me, Father.” Joan took off her cross necklace before she tossed the half-empty cup of coffee into Mike’s face. The burning sensation of the coffee made Mike scream in agonizing pain. Her action made everyone in the diner jump, especially Avilio.

Mike slammed his fists onto the table, breaking the table in half, and got up from his seat. With the fiery rage of Joan’s rejection, adding to his humiliation, he was ready to fight back. However, before he could comment on what happened, someone interrupted him.

“You got some nerve to ask her that, you low-life. Is this what you do for a living? Harass women until you get some pity favors? Frankly, that’s pathetic,” Avilio defended Joan, leading to Mike pushing Avilio against the wall, squeezing his throat, and turning poor Avilio red as an apple. The choked breathing echoed in the restaurant. Avilio’s nails scratched Mike’s hands and wrists, begging for an escape.

Joan, to save Avilio, grabbed a wine bottle from the restaurant and smashed it on top of Mike’s head. The liquid spilled all over the white floor and Mike’s coat. By a miracle, Mike let go of Avilio’s throat as he soothed his head. Joan stole Mike’s gun, pointing toward him without a shred of anxiety.

“If you’re smart enough, then the wine will be the only thing spilled on these floors,” Joan said with venom. “Get out, and don’t you ever think of touching my friend again,” she demanded of him.

Mike, shaken by her change of behavior, ran away, leaving a trail of footsteps. But cleanliness was not the most important thing on her mind.

“Are you alright, Avilio?” Joan rushed towards him, examining him for any injuries.

Avilio nodded and smiled at her. Though it was a small gesture, she felt excited that their potential relationship was growing. “You saved me back there; thank you,” he said, ruffling her hair.

“Joan!” Margaret shouted. “Are you alright, darling? He didn’t hurt you, right?” Margaret asked as she examined Joan.

“I apologize, babe, but we have to go now. We hope to see you around!” Nero shouted as he dragged poor Avilio away from the restaurant. However, Avilio glanced through the diner’s windows and noticed a strange man crawling underneath the chairs the three were sitting on. He scoffed as he saw an older man with ripped clothes and dirt on his run-down, open-toed boots stealing Joan’s cross necklace. That forgetful girl!

“Wait for me here, Nero,” Avilio instructed as he ripped away from Nero’s grip and rushed inside the diner. When he arrived, he rolled his eyes as Avilio noticed that Joan and Margaret had disappeared, but he needed to act quickly. So, he kicked the stranger’s stomach and stepped on his wrist.

“What are you doing? You know that’s not yours, right?” Avilio asked, glaring down as he stepped harder on the man’s wrist, setting the necklace free, and the man howled in pain. Avilio was close to breaking his wrist until the man apologized profusely.

“Let’s go, Avilio!” Nero shouted outside the restaurant, leaving Avilio to snatch the necklace and run back to the car.

“Hey, doesn’t that belong to that Joan girl?” Nero asked as he sat in the passenger’s seat and noticed the necklace wrapped around his partner’s wrist.

“It did. I couldn’t find Joan inside, and we had to go.” Avilio shrugged his shoulders as he turned on the engine.

“I don’t know much about jewelry, but I bet that necklace can make us millionaires by selling it,” Nero said, hinting at his partner.

“We’re not doing that. We’re coming back here tomorrow,” Avilio declared, making Nero groan in annoyance. “We have other ways of making dough,” Avilio said as he drove them to the small town, though at a snail’s speed to avoid a collision and because of the grey clouds covering the sky.

The next morning came with harsh winds complementing well with the grey sky. The pale, lonely girl with heavy bags under her eyes was biking back to the diner with lots of food in her basket from her farm. When the owner caught wind of what had occurred, he made a deal with Joan. She needs to compensate for the damages, he won’t press any charges against her. They settled on her bringing the diner food from her barn free of charge, which she had no problem with.

“I’m sorry again, Margaret,” Joan said as she put the food in its rightful place. “I hope I brought enough food.”

“I’m sure the owner is happy with the free food. Be careful next time, please! You’re lucky the owner didn’t ban you from his diner or press any charges,” Margaret scolded before her eyes widened as she noticed the missing family artifact on Joan. “Darling, you took off your necklace?” Margaret asked before Joan clutched Margaret’s apron and heard her friend’s sniffles.

“I lost it, Margaret. I lost my necklace. Mother and father, they’re gone,” she sniffled. “I looked everywhere, from the deepest soils of my farm to every drawer in my house. It’s gone! For the love of God, have you seen it, Margaret? Please?” Joan asked as she was on her knees, clutching onto Margaret as her tears poured down like a waterfall.

“I’m sorry, darling, but the last time I saw it, you had it on yesterday,” Margaret explained.

“Damn it! I’m an idiot!” Joan exclaimed as she shook Margaret.

A ring from the front doorbell interrupted their conversation.

“Please don’t tell me you both are fighting. It’s early morning.” The familiar voice of Nero echoed, causing Joan to shriek. Once she sees Avilio, she aggressively wipes her tears with her friend’s apron.

“Wow, you’re both back? How unexpected. Why are you back?” Joan asked as she used her hair as a shield to hide her bloodshed and puffy eyes.

“It’s a diner. What do people do at diners?” Avilio asked sarcastically.

“Right,” she says, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry, that was a dumb question,” she said in a trembling voice.

Avilio slowly tugs her hair behind her ears, exposing the bloodshed eyes and the tears on her cheeks. “Are you alright?” he asked, caressing Joan’s cheek.

Before she could respond, Nero jumped into the conversation.

“Sorry to interrupt this little moment, but we have to get going soon, Avilio,” Nero said. “I’ll be in the car. Just hurry up,” he said before rushing out of the diner.

“You’re leaving?” Joan asked.

“Yeah, we had to leave for business,” Avilio explained.

“Here, Avilio, I want you to have this,” she said as she rushed to grab a napkin and a pen. “In the short time I met you, you truly excited me like no one else would. Call me whenever you want. I prefer you to call during the nighttime,” Joan winked.

Avilio glanced at the napkin before folding it and placing it inside his pocket.

He took out a piece of paper and, at first, Joan believed he was writing a number for her to call. But after a few minutes of hearing the pen scratching the paper, her body tensed up as a million thoughts flooded through her head. Could it be a letter? What for? Is he rejecting her?

However, her thoughts drowned out as Avilio handed the paper to her.

“You’re a good girl, Joan. Be careful who you associate yourself with. It would be disheartening to read the papers and have your death be the headline,” Avilio said. “You can read that note and decide if you still want to associate with me.”

Joan looked puzzled as she read the letter. It started with basic information about him, like his real name being Angelo Lagusa and not Avilio. But then her jaw dropped to the floor at what he wrote next. Avilio went to school and church with her, yet he never introduced himself to her. He just watched her from afar.

It started on a harsh winter morning with icicles on every doorknob and feet of snow. They were trapped inside the church. The church authorities announced they would stay inside until it was safe to go home. Angelo’s little brother, Luce, was tensed throughout the morning. Luce kept biting his nails and his fingertips, clinging tightly to his big brother, and taking shaky breaths. Then the lights began to flicker, causing Luce to cry with his nails digging into Angelo’s skin. It wasn’t until they both heard the piano playing in the music room nearby. The soft hands of a young girl played Chopin as she glanced at the window, where the harsh winds pushed the tree branches into the window. A teary-eyed Luce walked up to her with awe in his eyes, leaving Angelo debating with himself. Grab his brother and potentially expose himself to the stranger. Or stay where he was? Luckily, Angelo didn’t have to decide since his little brother clapped in the middle of the girl’s performance. A loud thud and a hiss from the girl caused Luce to apologize excessively.

“It’s ok; it’s ok. I didn’t hear you come in, sweetie.” She reassured the little boy as she rubbed her knee. “A nasty storm outside, no?”

Luce nodded as he bit his nails.

“Everything will be alright as long as we are in the house of the Lord.”she said.

Before Luce responded, the power went out, causing him to cry.

Both Angelo, who was behind the door of the music room, and the girl’s heart ached at Luce’s cries. The girl gently picked him up and rocked him in her arms.

“It’s ok, sweetie. You’re safe. I’ll protect you; nothing will hurt you.” She declared before she had an idea. She carefully seated back down, with the crying boy on her lap, and played one of her favorite pieces. The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Soon the cries turned into sniffles and later giggles.

The small interaction between the stranger and his little brother made Angelo’s heart race, warming his body despite the freezing temperature. Even with his serious demeanor, the storm outside shook him up, but her aura provided a calming presence. Who’s that girl?

“I’m Luce. What’s your name?” He asked as he clutched onto her shirt.

“I’m Joan. I’m new here. Nice to meet you, Luce,” she said with a smile.

A few months later, Luce and Joan had a brother-and-sister-like relationship. A piano lesson followed every church meeting. Their first Christmas went by, and a special boy’s birthday went by. Angelo, who still hid behind any corner in every room, observed all the individuals were in. Angelo grew to like Joan, despite not interacting before. How can he not like a girl who treats his little brother kindly? If only he had the guts to talk to her. But he disregarded any attempt to talk to her. He never imagined that feeling intimated by a girl would make him feel ecstatic.

But then, they canceled his scheduled piano lessons forever. He found out when Luce came crying to Angelo, announcing that Joan wouldn’t be coming back to church as rumors spread about the reason. Some say it is because her family has moved; others say she got kicked out of the church because of her behavior. Despite all the badmouth and rumors, there was no answer to the question. What happened to Joan? In the end, no one knew the tragedy of her family’s death. She stared down at the lifeless bodies of her mother and father before she ran away from her home. A brutal murder from the Venetti family.

“Do you still want to hang around me?”

“You have my number, no?” she asked in a playful voice. Although what Avilio had written shocked her, she understood his motive. The Venetti family has killed her family. She prays that Avilio, no, Angelo, achieves his goal. Not just for his family, but for hers.

She heard a groan from Angelo’s mouth as his teeth held onto a cigarette as he rummaged through his pockets.

“Hmm?”

Oh, so that’s where his lighter went. He couldn’t help but smirk. The student learned from the master. It’s funny how a small action can light a flame.

“Keep it,” Angelo said.

“Are you sure? This lighter looks pricy,” Joan explained.

Angelo hummed in response as he rummaged through his coat pocket. “Would you accept this instead?” He asked, which left Joan choking on air. The golden cross necklace with a ruby rose-colored heart. It’s her family’s cross necklace in his hand.

“You found it? Where did you find it?” She asked as she cradled the necklace.

“Next time, be careful where you place it. You put it on the table, but I suppose it fell to the ground as you pummeled that man. You know, some shmuck tried to sell it. He was a real pain about it, too,” Angelo explained.

Joan thanked him repeatedly as she embraced him tightly. “Thank you so much. My family thanks you. You’re such a sweetheart,” she said before pecking his cheek, leaving Angelo feeling a tingle on his cheek and his heart warming up. The same feeling he felt when he first saw her. Finally, a breaking point!

Nero whistled at the sight of his partner receiving affection, resulting in Angelo scoffing and rolling his eyes. Joan giggled at their interaction before placing another kiss on his cheek. The kiss blossomed another rosy-red blush on his face. Joan’s warm lips on his cold cheek caused butterflies to fly around his stomach. The smooth jazz playing lessened the tension in his shoulders.

“Time is running out, Avilio,” Nero reminded him.

Angelo cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you were the religious type.”

“I’m not really. My father made this necklace for my mother, and she gave me this necklace before they both passed away.” She explained and then kissed the cross. “You saved my mother and father. Thank you!”

Angelo chuckled. “I didn’t save anyone, but I appreciate your kindness,” he said before Angelo sighed. “Be careful out there, Joan. I’ll see you around.” he pecked her cheek. An almost innocent smile and glowing eyes reveal a sweet side to him. Her heart match the sound of the Chopin record scratched on the record player from seeing him walk away.

“Thank you for everything. You gave my brother a happy life before his was cut short,” he said before leaving the diner, returning to the car with his partner.

A quiet pause followed as she stared, dumbfounded by everything that occurred. The letter, the kiss, their goodbyes. It all hit her like a tsunami. Wait, he was Luce’s brother?

“So, any luck, darling?” Margaret eagerly asked as her heels woke Joan up from her flashback. After a long pause, Joan glanced back before sighing.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s more of a one-sided affair,” Joan explained as she tugged the paper close to her chest.

“I’m sorry to hear, dear. Don’t be so down. As they say, there are plenty of fish in the sea,” Margaret said as she caressed Joan’s back. “Well, at least you got something from him. What is that? A phone number? Maybe you still have a chance.”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Joan lied as she folded the paper and stuffed it inside her paper. “Still, I haven’t even gotten to dance with him,” Joan pouted.

“Darling, I know you long enough to know that you wanted to do more than dance with him. Honestly, you’re going to get yourself in trouble,” Margaret teased as she pinched Joan’s ear, earning Margaret a giggle from her friend.

So long, Angelo.

As Nero drives them away from the diner, Angelo glances back at the note and contemplates what to do. The rapid heartbeat when she was near and the chest ache, knowing he may never see her again, were all real. And that kiss—that sweet and innocent kiss on his cheek. It’s the first time he’s received affection from another person and possibly the last time. He rubbed his temple as he crumbled the paper.

“Do you plan on calling her?” Nero asked as he stopped at a red light.

“Not sure,” Angelo said as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey, if you don’t want to call her, don’t throw that paper out. Let me keep it,” Nero asked, feeling giddy about the potential of speaking with Joan again.

“Just focus on driving,” Angelo said dryly as he stuffed the paper in his pocket and stared into the baby blue sky, covered by the smoke of his lit cigarette. A storm was approaching.

[justasimplesinner]

Oh, so you want crane and nigma request? Then give me all you have babe!! What are they like on a date and how would they react i the date wants them to stay after for some sexy stuff? 👌👈. There you go. Thanks by the way♥️

id just skip the whole date and go immediately to the bedroom

Jon on a date hcs:

he doesn't even know how he landed that date with you, in all honesty. it wasn't in his nature to "shoot his shot" but at this rate, if he had to see you and look you in the eyes another day while restraining the urge to just kiss you breathless, he'd shrivel up and die. the YearningTM won over logic, and up to this day he considers this one of the bet decisions he's ever made

he's an utter gentleman. his southern roots are showing in every little gesture, hell, you've gotten him so comfortable you can hear the twinge of his accent shine through. he goes all out, opening all doors, pulling out all chairs, refilling your empited glasses and all that shit. he's always been very polite to you (although overly sarcastic at times), but this time he's outdone himself. it's like he's trying to make some sort of impression on you, despite you two knowing each other for a little while already. not that you're complaining, you quite like this side of him

it's a very classy but pleasant date, all in all. y'know, the usual - coffee shop, bookstore and a nice walk afterwards. and once you get him talking, trust me, he could do it for hours. he longs for someone to truly listen to what he has to say, to exchange opinions with, to nerd out with, and you're just perfect for that. he loves how he can make you laugh with his sarcasm and that you never take it personally, how you talk so passionately about subjects you're interested in and let him do the same. for the first time in a while, he truly feels like someone's interested in what he has to say, in him in general, and as much as it is a foreign feeling, it's certainly a pleasant one

you're in charge of dropping hints that you wanna bang tho. he may secretely hope that it happens, if not today then at some point at least, but he also think he's already stretching it. he doesn't wanna test his luck, the fact that you agreed to the damn date is atonishing as it is, he doesn't think you'd want anything more from him, that you'd be interested in him this way. nobody ever really was, at least not the way he silently craves, so he doesn't even try. so yeah, turn up your game to the max. he will internally relish in the way you call him handsome or compliment him on literally anything

as i said, he's an utter gentleman. he will walk you right up to your door, out of manners and concern for you to get home safe (it is Gotham, after all). does he want to kiss you goodnight? fuck yeah. will he do it? hell no. it's all in your hands. and we all know you won't let it really turn into a goodbye. acting all innocent, asking him if he wants to come in for tea because you'd just love to show him that book you thought he'd like, and this fool will believe every single word. he's clueless baby, you'll literally find him on your couch waiting for that tea

he's taken aback once you make your intentions clear. very clear, if the way you're kissing him now and running your hands along his shoulders indicates anything. he's in heaven. his heart flutters every time you pull away to ask him if what you're doing is okay and tell him that if he doesn't want to, y'all don't have to do anything. but by the lord, does he fucking want to. does he want to feel you all pressed up against him, your soft kin under his fingertip, your mouth on his. his mind is blank, there's only you and how good you make him feel, how good he wants to make you feel in return

he'll be thinking about that night for a while. the way you pulled him close, the way you reassured him and covered his whole neck and chest in hickeys, the way your face twisted in pleasure as he held you down and did everything in his power to make you come undone as much as you made him. and especially the way you let him stay at your place all the way until the next morning, your arms and legs tangled together, all comfy and content. he certainly didn't expect your date to turn out to be so eventful

Eddie on a date hcs:

you will not believe the amount of time he spent hyping himelf up to finally ask you out. he wanted to do that for a long while, he couldn't stop his heart from aching for you anytime you were near him. he wanted to be closer, so much closer, but that little voice in the back of his head always spilled unnecessary, hateful bullshit and he couldn't bring himself to take you out for so long. but alas, he finally did and you finally agreed of course and he was going to make sure this is the most memorable date of your life (so you don't ever want to go out with anyone else)

he needed something where he could spend some quality time with you and show off his knowledge a little bit to impress you and assure you that you did the right thing by going out with him - so, obviously, he goes for a little museum date. and if you're up to it, you two can stop by the newet art exhibition in Gotham Gallery. entertaining and educational! what more could you possibly want?

he's a nervous wreck tho. tries not to show it and covers it up with extensive rambling, but he so desperately wants to be good enough that it's almost embarassing. the way he's trying hard to impress you is so clear. you appreciate it, and you appreciate him picking such places to take you out on a date, paying for all your shit and all that, but he needs to chill the fuck out and have fun

after knowing him for a while, you know exactly what makes him tick. a well-timed praise and compliment here an there, an inquiry about something to let him boast a little, breaching more casual topics so he can relax, a well-placed hand on his arm, and you've got him hooked. you remind him exactly why he wanted to go on a date with you in the way you're listening so attentively and asking him questions and laughing with him. he loves how you always know what to say to make him at peace and he starts to truly enjoy himself, walking around with you and throwing around random facts about anything that catches his eye. he's in his element

like i said before, he's already decided to pay for all your stuff, but he adores how you don't take advantage of that. he also adores the way your whole face lit up when he bought you a souvenir anyway because you eyed it a second longer than the rest. he will gladly take you to dinner for a little break from all this walking around, too! at the restaurant, he's actively inquiring about you. you're one of the few people on this earth that he truly finds interesting and fascinating, the way he asks about your life and listens so attentively makes you feel seen and heard. despite everything, he's a great listener as long as the topic of the conversation interests him. and when it comes to you, he wants to know every little detail, you're the one puzzle that he so craves to solve, that always keeps him on his toes and he loves that thrill

of course, you two have been flirty with each other all night, but Edward doesn't necessarily expect anything sexual to happen. you're not obliged to do that, and he's just glad to be spending time with you, hoping that another date will come soon. he does react positively when you're all touchy-feely though. yes, he's a little flustered and bashful, but that man's got a silver tongue on him, he always has something to counter your flirtarious banter

like Jon, he will walk you right up to your door and he will stare at you with with those puppy eyes like you're the eigth world wonder. he makes it just impossible not to kiss him. all you have to do is tug him by his collar and crash your lips with his and he's yours. he will grab your waist, glide his hands up and down your back, let out a choked groan that he's holding back when you tug on his hair. no, he doesn't give a fuck you're in front of your apartment building, just come closer, kiss him harder, please-

you both are abolutely breathless by the time you separate. his hair is ruffled and so are your clothes, and your eyes are glazed over as you stare up at him in a way that makes his stomach do kickflips. you simply ask if he wants to come in and he's already frantically nodding his head, repeating 'yes' over and over as he pulls you back in. there's nothing he wants more right now than getting all tangled up in your sheets, in you. he has never felt anything quite like your hands on his hot skin, your lips on his, your moans breathed right into his ear. and don't be surprised if he dives back in for seconds once you two wake up in each other's arms in the morning

[thebluesideofmyworld]

A Good Guy - A Solangelo One-Shot

Summary: Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. But when it came to Nico di Angelo, would he ever be good enough, though?

Word count: 3900 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3

Notes:

1. Based on the song "good guys" by LANY 2. My contribution for @after-everything-pjo-zine project. Check out other fics (each fic is accompanied by great fanart so you just HAVE to check it out) in the zine here.

***

Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. And he would proudly say that it’s because his family raised him to be one. His Mama made sure that he never forgot to say please, sorry and thank you, and his grandma taught him to respect people. Even though Apollo wasn’t around to be an ideal father as Will was growing up in Tennessee, his grandpa showed him how to be a Southern gentleman.

So yeah, he might come across as a young man who with a sassy attitude. But heck, Will knew that he was a good guy. And he’s proud of that.

But here’s the thing. Here’s a thing about being a good guy. Being a good guy might sound like it’s a good thing to do. But being a good guy also sometimes meant that you’re almost as invisible as a wallflower. Because even though you’re good, there were always be better guys. And one thing that Will learned about being a good guy? Good guys never win.

***

“It’s been almost two weeks, you know,” Will said as he kept his eyes at the monthly medical report that he (pretended) to be reading.

“Two weeks since what?” Kayla asked, but didn't bother to pretend that she's actually interested.

“Since Nico went for that quest, remember? Something about Persephone’s parrot or something?” Will said, still trying to keep his eyes at the notes. Because he knew that Kayla might still see the worry in Will’s eyes. (Sometimes it’s almost scary, how his siblings knew him too well).

“Oh? Really? Has it been two weeks yet?”

“Almost,” Will said, decided to leave the detail that it’s actually has been 11 days and since Nico had left the camp early in the morning and now it was almost dinner, it’s been almost twelve freaking days since Nico left the camp for that stupid quest.

“I mean, of course, it might be nothing but well, I thought it was supposed to be a short, simple quest?” Will continued. “Usually if it’s just this small quest, it never took him this long before. Usually it would just be like, three days, five, at the most, and like, a week if he took a detour to impulsively do something unnecessary, but never this long.”

Will lifted his head and turned to look at Kayla, who didn’t seem to share the same worry as Will. Her eyes were still fixed on the glossy pictures of the magazine that she was looking at. A non-committal hum coming from her was the only sign that she was (kind of) listening.

Will tried to focus on the lines of writing in front of him, but the letters were all jumbled and he couldn’t make himself try to read anything. His mind was too busy thinking about different reasons and scenarios of why Nico wasn’t back yet from the quest.

“Do you think I should ask Chiron about it? Probably he’s heard from Nico, y’know. Like, maybe something came up and I don’t know, maybe Chiron knew or maybe even Rachel got a vision or something, or-“

“Or you could have just contacted me, Solace. Pretty sure that it doesn't hurt to try IM me”

Will stood up and spun to face the direction where the voice was coming from. He did it so fast, he got dizzy because of it. It took him two seconds before his eyes could fully focus on Nico di Angelo, who was staring at him. His face looked nonchalant, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

“Uh, hey,” Will greeted, gripping the desk as he suddenly needed to get a hold of himself. “You’re back.”

Nico gave him a single nod, brushing away some strands of hair from covering his eyes. “Yep. I just got back.” He shrugged his shoulders before continuing. “Thought I’d drop by here before I report to Chiron.”

Will tightened his grip on the desk, trying his best to hold himself from closing the distance between him and Nico just to pull Nico into his arms.

“And uh… What brings you here?”

The emotional part of him wished that he was the reason why Nico came straight to the infirmary after the quest. But the rational part of him shushed him. That damned rational part of him told him that hey, it was him who wanted to see Nico, not the other way around.

Nico kept his eyes at Will and there was something in those dark eyes that Will couldn’t really put his fingers on.

“I thought you wanted me to have a check-up every time I got back from a quest?”

Of course.

Will tried to ease the dull pain in his heart by giving Nico a small smile. “Yeah. Of course. Need to make sure that you won’t fade into the shadows again, huh?” Will let out a nervous chuckle. “I mean, I am your doctor, and a doctor only wants the best for his patients.”

This time Nico stayed silent as he nodded. Will gestured to a nearby cot with his chin.

“Now, if you could just sit down over there, please?”

Still saying nothing, Nico strode to the cot and quickly sat there. Will took a deep breath, mentally telling himself to be professional, and let it out in a long exhale. He made his way to where Nico was waiting for him.

The check-up was a regular one. And there was nothing new about how touching Nico made stupid butterflies do some stupid dancing in his stomach. He ached to ask Nico questions about what happened in the quest and why it took so long. He wanted to know whether Nico ever thought of him while he was on the quest the way Will kept on thinking about him while he was away. He wanted to listen to Nico talk to him, with that slight accent that made his voice so melodious, almost like he was singing.

But it would only scare Nico away.

So he kept his eyes at the board where he jotted down the notes about Nico’s vitals.

“So, uhm… This quest was a bit longer than usual, huh?” Will asked, almost proud of himself that his voice sounded normal.

Nico hummed as he put his jacket back on. “Yeah, we had an unexpected encounter with some empousai. Luckily, David is unexpectedly good at fighting.”

At the mention of the name, Will lifted his head up. “David? You mean the new camper? That Athena kid?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah. For someone who never held a sword before, I have to say that I’m impressed.”

A strange, nauseating heat flared inside Will’s stomach. “Really?”

“Yup. In fact, I promised to give him an extra lesson in sword-fighting tomorrow.”

That strange heat swirled even more inside Will. He stretched his lips into a lame attempt to smile at Nico.

“Oh,” Will said. “Nice.”

“In one way, he strangely reminded me of Percy, you know? The way he held his sword.” And Nico continued talking for a while about that stupid new guy. Will listened, humming every now and then just to show Nico that he’s listening.

Half of his mind wished that the harpies would find that David kid to be a nice target for their dinner. The other half of his mind scowled at him for having that kind of evil wish.

“Okay. Everything looks good. Just make sure that you drink enough water,” Will said as he wrote the date and signed his name on the bottom part of the report.

“So I can go now?”

Will nodded. “Yeah, you’re free to go now,” he answered as he walked back to his desk to put the record in the folder.

“And you’re not even offering to walk me back to my Cabin like a good Southern gentleman?”

Will spun on his heel quickly. He stared at Nico with wide eyes, thinking that he might have been hallucinating.

“What?”

Nico snorted and slid down from the cot. “Never mind. I need to report to Chiron first anyway.”

Will blinked, and it took him a full two seconds before he had his voice again.

“Nico-“

But Nico was already one step away from the door. He stopped and looked at Will over his shoulder. The left tip of his lips curled up, just slightly, forming a ghost of a smile. He gave a two-finger salute to Will.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Not waiting for Will to answer him, Nico stepped away. And just like that, he’s out of sight.

Will stared at the open door. There is this hollowness inside his heart that he couldn't explain. Like he just missed a chance.

He always thought that he’s a good guy. Or at least, he’s trying to.

But would he ever be good enough, though?

***

“What are you doing here?”

Lou Ellen’s voice startled Will.

“Me? Uh…” Will scrambled to pick up the book that he just dropped and showed it to Lou, like he was trying to prove something. “I was reading!”

Lou Ellen stared at him with a glint of amusement in her eyes as she gave Will the Look. The ‘don’t-give-me-bullshit’ Look.

“What, am I not allowed to read in peace?” Will said, a bit defensively.

“Hey, it’s cool dude,” Lou said. “In fact, it was nice to see you somewhere else aside from the infirmary,” she added.

Will relaxed a bit, going back to lean his back on the tree.

“I can see why you choose this spot. It’s much quieter than the infirmary on your busy days,” Lou said.

Will hummed.  His eyes flickered to the far left, to the clearing a few yards away, just for a split second before he opened his book.

“And the view from here is also… decent.”

Lou Ellen’s tone made Will quickly look up again at the daughter of Hecate. She’s now grinning at him, like she just figured something out.

“How long have you been spying on those two?” Lou asked, gesturing with her chin to two demigods in the clearing who seemed to just finished sparring.

Will gaped at her. He blinked and quickly shook his head. “What? No! I’ve told you, I was reading here!”

But Lou Ellen didn’t seem to care about Will’s reaction as she waved at the demigods in the clearing.

“Hey, Nico! David!”

Will’s eyes widened in horror this time as he turned his head around, only to see that Nico and the new Athena kid walked towards them.

“Lou!” he hissed in annoyance.

Lou Ellen just gave him a teasing smirk. “What?”

Will groaned and quickly stood up, his book abandoned on the grass as he unconsciously ran a hand over his wild locks.

“Hey,” Nico greeted. “What’s up?”

Nothing’s up aside from his heartbeat, Will would like to answer. But of course, he kept it to himself as he tried his best to school his face into a relaxed, nonchalant, I’m-just-chilling-here expression.

“Nothing much,” Lou Ellen shrugged her shoulders. “You two are sparring together here? Why? Is the arena too mainstream for you?”

The new Athena kid gave a half-smile as he brushed off some hair from covering his eyes. “It was my request, actually,” he said. “I just want to have a...” he waved his right in a vague circular motion, like trying to find the exact word to say. “A more… realistic view when fighting a monster?”

That didn’t really make sense to Will. But it seemed to be an acceptable reason for Lou Ellen as she nodded at him.

“And has Nico been a good teacher for you?” Lou Ellen asked.

Will didn’t miss the way Lou gave him a quick glance.

David’s half-smile turned into a full one. “He is!” He turned his head to Nico and smiled at him, like he was pleased at Nico. “Thanks for teaching me, Nico. You are very good at sword-fighting.”

Nico returned David’s smile with one of his small smiles. A smile that could have filled Will’s chest with warm air. But since he’s not at the receiving end of that smile, it turned Will’s chest into lead instead.

“Anytime. It was a pleasure.”

“You will teach me more, yes? And ah… We also need to talk more. About football.”

This was the first time for Will to really listen to David talking, and he couldn’t help but notice how David’s voice had quite an accent. Especially when he pronounced football, the way he stretched some syllables.

Nico’s face lit up. “Yeah! We should! I know that Cecil played football! Right?” His eyes darted from Will to Lou Ellen, like asking for confirmation.

“Cecil? He does. I can take you to talk to him. Come on,” Lou Ellen quickly pulled the sleeve of David’s shirt and led him away from the other two demigods.

Will watched the backs of Lou Ellen and David who were walking away from them. He could feel nervousness starting to creep in on him as their voices slowly faded away, as he realized that he’s now alone with Nico.

Not that he hated to be with Nico. It’s just… this wasn’t his plan. He wasn’t prepared. And Will hated it when things didn’t go as he planned. He hated it when he was unprepared.

“David played football,” Nico said just when David and Lou Ellen disappeared from their sight.

Will angled his neck to look at Nico. “And when you said football, did you mean soccer?”

“I mean football,” Nico answered, turning on his heels a little so now he was facing Will. “The real football.”

Will snorted and slid down to sit on the grass. “They’re the same,” he said, leaning his back on the tree.

Nico followed Will, sitting on the grass. “It will always be football for me,” he said. There was a melancholic tone lacing his voice. And it made Will wonder, maybe it’s something that Nico used to play. In the streets in Venice, when he was just a kid who had no idea that Greek gods and goddesses were real.

“We, David and I, we were talking about playing here. I mean, it would be great, you know? David said he played midfield. I’m usually,” Nico paused, but quickly continued. “I mean, I used to play as a striker. If we can connect well, that would be really cool.”

Will closed his eyes while his stomach churned with a strange, unpleasant feeling. So, not only was this David kid good in sword-fighting, he’s good in soccer too?

“Do you play too? I mean, you can be the goal keeper. I guess you would be great. I mean, you’re tall and it would be a great asset for a goalkeeper.”

Will huffed. Stuck between the goalposts while watching Nico and David scoring goals? Yeah. No, thank you.

“We’ll see about that,” Will said, still with his eyes closed.

For a while, none of them said anything. Will opened his eyes when he heard Nico sighed. He turned his head, watching Nico stand up. Nico brushed his pants, and gave Will a small smile.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Will wondered why that smile looked a bit strained, but returned it anyway. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

He watched as Nico walked away.

Someone would be a good guy for Nico, he thought. And even though Will was a good guy, maybe he just wasn’t good enough. So of course, someone would be a good guy for Nico. Someone else. Not Will.

***

Will didn’t even know why he was here, standing awkwardly near the table where the food and drinks were.

Oh, yes. Because Cecil and Lou Ellen practically dragged him here, to this stupid Halloween party organized by the Aphrodite Cabin.

It’s not that Will disliked Halloween. And it wasn’t like he hated Halloween parties either. What he didn’t like, was seeing Nico talking with David at the other corner of the room. Just looking at the sight made a strange, nauseating fire flame inside of him.

“Pining over di Angelo again?” Lou Ellen nudged him on his shoulder.

“Yeah. How long are you going to act like this Will? Playing it cool while we all know how you wish you’re the one talking to di Angelo instead of David?” Cecil joined Lou Ellen in interrogating Will.

Will only rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” he mumbled, and took another sip of Coke from his cup. He tried to watch the campers who were dancing in the middle of the floor. Some kids from the Hermes cabin somehow got a hold of speakers. And of course, with a little help from the Hephaestus kids, the party had a cool sound system that was now playing pop music.

Lou Ellen sighed. Will stole another glance at where Nico was standing. David was leaning a little to whisper something at Nico. The proximity between those two made it a little bit harder for Will to breathe. He wondered what it was that David was telling Nico. But then Nico turned his head to Will. And no matter how cliché it might sound, Will’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Will quickly looked down to the floor.

Next to him, Lou Ellen clicked her tongue.

“You know what? I can’t take this anymore. It’s been MONTHS. This has got to end tonight,” she said. Ignoring Will’s protest, she grabbed Will’s wrist and pulled him along with her, walking towards Nico and David.

A few seconds later, Will was standing with a flustered face in front of Nico and David.

“Hey, Nico, David! You guys enjoying the party?”

David gave that half-smile again. “Ah, yes. The party is nice.” He angled his neck just a bit so now he was looking right at Will. The half-smile subtly transformed into a knowing smirk. “And you? You… You are the healer, yes? Will?”

Will forced himself to smile politely at David. “Yeah. That’s me.”

David gave a single nod. “Nico talked a lot about you. A lot of good things.”

Will blinked. His eyes darted to Nico, but the raven-haired boy looked away from him. Still, his cheeks were a dark shade of red.

“Is that Cecil over there? I think I want to talk to him,” David suddenly said as he pointed at Cecil with his chin. “Lou Ellen? Come with me?”

Lou Ellen grinned as she nodded and made a 90-degree turn on her heels. “Yeah, come on, David. Let's leave these two idiots.”

And just like that, they left Will again, standing awkwardly less than two feet away from Nico.

“Uh… I didn’t expect to see you here,” Will said.

Nico turned his head at Will, an eyebrow slightly raised up. “Oh? I thought you were the one saying that I need to work on my social skill.”

Will gave Nico a small smile. “Yeah. So. Good to see you here, then. I mean, for your social skills and all.”

Nico stared at Will. And there was just something behind those dark eyes. Something that Will couldn’t put into words. Something that made him unable to look away.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance, Solace?”

The question got Will off-guard. Of all the questions in the world, it’s probably the most unexpected one.

“Huh?”

Nico held his eyes at Will’s for another second, but then he looked away. “Never mind,” he said, half-mumbling. His cheeks blushed again into dark cherry color.

“But… do you want to, though?”

Nico’s head turned back to Will. “Want to do what?”

“Dance? Do you…want to?”

Nico bit his lower lip and he looked down for a second. When he looked up back at Will, his charcoal eyes were soft.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On who’s asking me to.”

Will’s heart started to jump around in his chest.

“What if it’s me asking you?”

The eyes that were staring back at him were now smiling.

“Then I guess, it depends on the song, then.”

Will’s heart was probably doing some crazy somersaults right now, but his lips curled up without him even thinking about it.

“Well, it’s my favorite song that they’re playing right now. I hope it suits you?” he asked, carefully offering his hand.

Nico’s smile was as soft as the look in his eyes. And the moment their fingertips touched, Will’s heart soared high and suddenly his chest was filled with warm, light air.

As Will led Nico to the floor, he thought about how long he has been wanting to do this, to hold Nico’s hand in his.

They swayed along with the music. Nico’s left hand felt perfect in his right hand. Will’s left hand rested on Nico’s hip and Will couldn’t care less about the other people dancing around them.

“Your dancing is better than your singing,” Nico said, a playful smile on his lips.

Will chuckled. “My grandma said a real Southern gentleman must know how to dance. And I remember my Mama dancing with me when I was a kid.”

“Your Mam raised you well, I have to say.”

Will hummed. “I’m a good mama’s boy, I can promise you that.”

“I can see that, Will. Everyone can see that.”

“See what?”

“That you’re a good guy.”

This time Will held his eyes at Nico. “I try to be,” he said. “But… Would I ever be good enough for you?”

Nico huffed. “And you said I was the dense one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Nico stopped, but his feet kept on moving. He sighed. “Gods, do I really have to spell it out to you?” He asked, sounding exasperated as he looked away from Will.

Hope bloomed inside of Will and he grinned and oh, how he wanted to shout and laugh. He took his hand off Nico’s hip so he could gently cup Nico’s cheek, guiding him to face him back.

“Do you mean you like me?” Will asked.

“Well, do you like me?”

Will chuckled and he could feel a stupid smile creeping in. “Why do you even have to ask?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Because you’re nice to me but you’re also nice to everyone? Because you don’t seem to care even if I talk about someone else? Because you…” Nico stopped again and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I just…don’t know?”

Will squeezed Nico’s hand just a bit tighter. “I was just… I was just afraid that I’m not good enough for you.”

Nico rolled his eyes. But his lips twitched, like he tried to hold back a smile.

“You’re a good guy, Will. You’re a good guy to everyone. But sometimes I hope that you can be my good guy.”

It’s like a thousand birds were singing inside of Will now as he felt like he was floating in this bubble of happiness.

“Then I’ll be yours, Death Boy.”

Will wrapped his arms around Nico, and pulled him into his embrace.

“I’ll be your good guy, then. I’ll be your everything.”

Nico pulled himself a little away from Will. He looked up at Will and the light in his eyes was like the most beautiful star in a dark night.

“Everything?”

“Everything. Anything you need.”

***

Additional Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :). Reblogs, replies or any other feedbacks are much appreciated. Also please don't forget to check out the zine!!!

[x-reader-theater]

Inspired by the @katytheinspiredworkaholic Noir AU mood board, Spencer dating Hotches or Alvezes younger brother in around 20's-40's era when it was still illegal. Hotch or Alvez (who ever you choose) would be some sort of important name in the city so obviously the reader would be too, being from a wealthy family. So it is especially hard for the reader and Spencer to sneak around kissing and stuff when everyone has their eyes on the reader. But one day the reader realises that fuck the others, he is wealthy and so known that no-one dared to mess with him anyway so reader and Spencer would publicly announce their relation ship.

(sorry if its too long of a request)

This got away from me a bit, I'm so sorry. I also made a moodboard because I was so inspired. This was soooooo much fun to write. I love me a good noir AU loll. Edited by @mystic-writes

Moodboard by Me

You laugh lightly as Spencer pushes you into the wall right outside of your bedroom, kissing down your neck and sucking right below your collarbone. You chose to have your top three buttons undone tonight, just for this very purpose. You wanted to entice, without making it known that it was your intention. You got a few ladies coming over to try and talk to you, much to your brother's delight, but you rebuffed every single one of them. They weren't who your heart was truly with.

You moan as you grind your hips against Spencer's and pant out, "We- uh- we should get inside. Before someone sees us."

"Let them," Spencer says, kissing your neck more. "Let them see us. I don't care."

You push Spencer away, holding him at arm's length, before saying, "I do. I care. Do you know what my brother would do if he found out who I shared my bed with?"

You look away from Spencer, who sighs. "Maybe I should go-"

"No, wait," you say, grabbing his wrist. "Please don't. Just, hold me tonight?"

Spencer smiles and kisses you.

–

"Hey! Little brother! Come to watch the show?" your older brother Luke asks you from his usual seat. He's the only one in the club, but that makes sense since the sun hasn't even set yet. You walk over and sit down next to him, and he leans over, whispering, "Isn't she a vision?"

he points to the obviously very beautiful woman on stage, with dark skin and black hair curled beautifully on her head. She's wearing a white rhinestoned dress with spaghetti straps and you think you see her pearly white heels underneath . She looks stunning.

"She's not my type," you say, leaning back and listening to her sing.

Luke hits your arm. "No one is! I swear, if Ma and Pa hadn't raised me to be such a gentleman, I would be kickin' the snot out of you to find out."

You snort when he says he's a gentleman, but cross your arms and ignore it. "I do have a type. You just don't know what it is," you snort, and look over at your brother, who's frowning at you. "You're not her type either." You nod to the woman on stage.

"What do you mean? I'm everybody's type!" Luke exclaims and the woman glares at you.

You snort. "She keeps looking over at Penelope at the bar, making sure she's watching. She's singing a love song, but the only person in the entire place that it's for is your bartender."

Luke's eyes go wide, and you smile and slap him on the shoulder, while the woman finishes her song. You give Penelope a wink as you exit.

–

That night, you walk into the club. No one's singing at the moment, but you met the woman, Tara, back behind the stage in one of the back rooms that had been converted into a dressing room for her. She's going to go on stage later, and you paid her something extra to make the first song a love song.

You were good for it after all.

You haven't been keeping up with the family as much as you used to, but you notice your brother doing deals every now and again, and you have to step in to save him from getting his ass beat.

You take a deep breath and walk into the crowded club, the low jazz coming from the band on stage. You walk over to the bar and order a gin from Emily, who smiles at you and takes it from your fingers before you can grab it. She points at one of the tables where you see Spencer, sitting with a woman, ignoring her flirting. You sigh and thank Emily, before going to the table with your drink, and sitting down on Spencer's other side.

"[Y/N]!" he exclaims, a grateful look in his eyes.

"Spencer! Good to see you," you say, clasping a hand onto his shoulder. You squeeze it and he smiles at you. "Who's your friend here?" You ask, gesturing to her, but you don't stop touching him.

"Uh, this is… uh…" he starts to say, but the woman frowns at him when he doesn't say it.

"I'm Lila. Lila Archer," she says. While you're in Chicago, most folks around here don't have any sort of accent. She however has a southern lilt to her words. She's blonde haired and blue eyed, and she looks incredibly uncomfortable in here, surrounded by both black and white folks. There was also the occasional Hispanic person in here, like your brother, but they are few and far between.

Your brother owns one of the only mixed race clubs in town, only because he was adopted into the family as a young boy. He has the money as a non-white to own and run a business. Helps that his "family" is a majority white as well.

Your grandfather was sent to Chicago from New York to make sure the city knew the Italians still ran the place. But, he likes to pick up a lot of strays.

Doctor Spencer Reid being one of them. No one quite knows what he's a doctor of, but he seems to be a doctor of everything. Medicine, the arts, mathematics, you name it, he probably knows it. It's one of the many reasons you fell in love with him.

"Miss Archer. I've never seen you in here before. Is this your first time visiting my brother's club?" You ask.

She nods stiffly. "That's right. My father wants to buy this place, but he can't seem to put in an offer big enough. Says he wants to rid the city of it's filth and reclaim it for the whites once again."

"Well, Miss Archer, as you can see, there are plenty of whites here tonight," you say, gesturing to the people seated at tables and getting drinks from the bar. "And I'm really hoping you don't share the same… convictions as he does, because otherwise, I might just have to get one of my people to throw you out of here."

You make eye contact with Morgan who's sitting at a nearby table and he nods at you, acknowledging what you want.

"I-" she begins to say, before she deflates. "I wanted to see what was so bad, all the voodoo and evil devil worshiping he says he's seen you folks doin'. But, y'all just seem like good honest people."

You smile at her and stand up. "I'm glad to hear it, Miss Archer. I think you'll find we're a lot more human than everyone makes us out to be." She smiles at you and you turn to Spencer, holding out your hand. "Now, my good doctor, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a dance? Miss Lewis is about to start her singing, and I heard it's going to be *beautiful*."

Spencer grins and takes your hand. You drag him to the dance floor, where there's already a group of people dancing together, swinging them around their bodies, moving and shaking and laughing.

The music gradually changes, and while it does get slower and softer, it is by no means a slow dancing tune.

You start shaking your hips and kicking your legs and Spencer does the same. He spins you around, almost forcing you to go out and in, and it's perfect. The melody is beautifully sung by Tara, and you smile as your back is pulled to Spencer's chest. He loops his arms around you, and you look up at him, smiling.

He's looking at you with a quizzical look, as if saying, "You sure you want to do this?"

Instead of answering, you kiss him. He opens his mouth and you slide your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth in a wet and heated kiss. When you pull away, he has the happiest smile on his face.

You look over at your brother, who has the angriest look on his face, and you raise an eyebrow, silently saying, "Just try to stop me."

[decoolz]

A Piece of my WIP

This is part of my Work in Progress The John Laurens Alexander Hamilton Kissing book--working title (TJLAHKB) I am extremely nervous about sharing this, but I would like to see what people think about it. This is just under 3000 works so most of it will be under the cut. A new beginning. The mistakes of London and teenage fantasy were gone now, he was sure of it. All he had to do was take this meeting and the next few years of his life would be set. John stepped out of the coach and smoothed out his waistcoat. If he did this right, he’d be able to recover his reputation. No one would be talking about the rumors if he achieved glory on the battlefield. All he had to do was find General Washington’s command tent.

The camp smelled like twelve thousand people had been camping here for weeks. The sweet stench of rotting food nearly overpowered the unwashed smell of thousands of people gathered in quarters much too small. John searched the faces of passersby for someone to help, but not a single soul gave him a glance. No wonder the British had the upper hand. This was the encampment housing the head of the whole continental army and not a single person gave John a once over. He could be a spy wandering about. All this was going in his first letter to his father when he got situated.

“Excuse me!” John shouted at a boy who couldn’t possibly be old enough to enlist yet was running around the place as if he knew every inch of it. “I’m looking for General Washington’s tent. I have an appointment.”

“Good luck with that,” the boy chuckled. He turned and pointed toward the middle of camp. “See the big round one. That’s where you’ll wanna go. Hope you really got that appointment.”

“I’m Henry Laurens son. I don’t need an appointment,” John clarified rolling his eyes. “My father arranged for introductions.”

“Good on you,” the boy nodded, then ran off the way he was heading.

John continued to drag his footlocker across the dirt and dying grass up the path to the “big round tent,” silently judging every single one of the people who walked by him without offering to help or ask what he was doing wandering around this camp. From the looks of everyone’s dirty and mismatched attire, this wasn’t the kind of place where people took much care to observe anything.

He entered Washington’s tent without once being stopped. Setting his footlocker out of the way, he straightened his waistcoat again before approaching the desk in the middle of the space. The man bent over the desk didn’t bother to acknowledge him when he entered. John cleared his throat thrice before the young redheaded man looked up for his work.

“How may I be of assistance?” he asked with an unrecognizable accent. “I’m assuming you’re not the Frenchman. Are you one of his staff?”

“I am French but I’m from South Carolina,” John replied. He pulled his letter of introduction from his inside pocket as he stepped closer to the desk. The man behind it appeared altogether uninterested. “I’m Henry Laurens’s son, I’m here to have a meeting with General Washington to join this regiment.”

“He’s not taking meetings today,” the clerk replied. “I can schedule you for later this week if you’d like. What is your business with the General?” He licked the end of his quill and met John’s eyes.

“No, you misunderstand me,” John said, shaking his head. “Henry Laurens is my father. He wrote to General Washington and told him to expect me this week. I don’t need an appointment, he’s expecting me.”

The clerk clicked his tongue. “Right. You still need an appointment. The General is a busy man. He isn’t going to stop running the army because some self-important rich man’s son is going to show up at some point this week. I can write you in for an appointment tomorrow if you like. Should I write in Henry’s son or do you have a name of your own I can use?”

“No,” John shook his head. “I should be able to see him today. He’s expecting me. He told my father he’s looking for a French translator to help with correspondence and the like. He made it pretty clear the post had to be filled post haste.”

“Right … but you see, that’s not how it works,” the clerk explained, speaking slowly as if John was a simpleton. “In order to get into see General Washington, you need an appointment. I make the appointments. I would highly recommend you stop being a jackass and give me your Christian name so I can put it in the ledger for tomorrow.”

John took a deep breath. Clearly, this man didn’t understand who he was speaking to or he wouldn’t continue to be so obstructive. He’d be sure to put this in his letter to his father as well, he’ll have this scrawny boy’s job by the end of the week.

“Listen, Mister…”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” the redhead gentleman corrected.

“Fine then,” John scoffed. “Lieutenant Colonel, I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. I have a letter of introduction from my father with the understanding that I am to meet with his excellency when I arrive at camp. I am here. So, if you please, announce my arrival.”

“You seem to have poor comprehension skills, which honestly looks bad if you’re trying to get a job as a translator. There must be a meeting set up and penciled into this ledger before you can see him.” He held up the ledger for John to look at. “As you see here, today he is booked solid since he’s in the city meeting with a Frenchman who will be joining the ranks. So even if I wanted to let you in to see him—which don’t misunderstand I do not—I can’t because he’s not even in there. But if you give me your name, and not refer to yourself as your father’s son, I can write you in for tomorrow.”

“But I have a letter of introduction,” John extended his hand with the papers toward the boy.

“Go for you,” the Lieutenant Colonel nodded. “What is your name? I can set up an appointment for tomorrow at one in the afternoon right after luncheon.”

“My father said--”

“Listen,” the other man pulled a hand down his face and sighed loudly. “We seem to be at an impasse here. You need an appointment. I honestly don’t give a shit what your father said, because he’s not here. I am. I control the ledger book with the appointments. I already informed you against my better judgment that General Washington isn’t even in camp at present. I’m not sure what it is you think you’re going to accomplish by arguing with me about it. Give me your name I’ll write you in for tomorrow right after luncheon and you can go relax at the inn up the road for the rest of the day and stop bothering me.”

“This won’t do,” John shook his head. “I was promised a meeting when I arrived.”

The other man blinked slowly, shook his head, picked up his quill, and continued whatever it was he was working in when John walked in. After several tense moments of silence, John cleared his throat again for attention.

“Oh, you’re still here. Again, your meeting is tomorrow at one. I wrote down ‘Henry’s son’ so they’ll be no confusion as to how important you are. If you insist on staying in my office to wait for your scheduled time, you are more than welcome to sit in one of the terribly uncomfortable wooden chairs on the side there. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

John sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from yelling and let several short quick breaths out through his nose.

“What is your name?” John demanded. “I would like to make sure Congress knows exactly the kind of riff-raff General Washington has in his employment.”

“And yet here you are trying to join our ranks,” the redheaded man met John’s gaze with a sickeningly sweet fake smile.

“Hamilton!” A head poked around the entrance of the tent. An older man with the same green pin on his hat as the clerk. “Are you set to take a break for luncheon or is Lucy bringing you a tray?”

“No, I’ll come with you,” the redheaded man, Hamilton evidently, said. He straightened his desk and stood. “It’s Wednesday.”

As he came around the desk, John got his first good look at this Hamilton. He couldn’t be taller than five and a half feet. John could probably put his hands around the man’s waist and his fingers would touch. He looked far more like a boy than someone in charge of something as important as General Washington’s ledger.

“Are you going to invite your friend?” the other man asked, gesturing to John.

“Not my friend,” Hamilton grumbled. “You can join us for a meal if you want. Or wait until we leave and look to see that no one is in Washington’s office and pout about it. Just don’t touch my desk.” He didn’t bother turning toward John as he said it.

“Will my footlocker be safe here?” John asked, stepping toward the other men.

“Sure,” Hamilton shrugged. He pushed passed the other man out into the sweltering camp.

“Is he always so delightful?” John asked.

“You must have got him on a good day,” the other man joked. “He’s usually much worse. Richard Meade, Virginia.” He extended his hand to John.

This was more of the kind of welcome he was expecting. “John Laurens, South Carolina.”

“Son of the senator,” Meade smiled. “Rumor has it he’s a lock for the presidency when Hancock retires.”

“That’s what he tells me,” John nodded.

Hamilton waited; arms crossed over his chest for the others then led the way to the mess tent walking a quick clip about twenty paces ahead of them.

“Personally, I think it’ll be great for the union to finally have some southern influence at the helm of Congress. I think we’ve heard enough from Boston and New York for a bit.”

“Those men are the catalyst for the revolution,” John countered. “However, I do agree, if we are to be our own country it makes sense to listen to men from all parts of it.”

John let Meade lead him through the buffet line and tried not to gawk as Hamilton shamelessly flirted with a young brunette woman serving the warm rolls until she slipped an extra one to him.

“Is that the reason he was so eager to come to luncheon on Wednesday?”

“No,” Meade replied as they walked toward their table. “That would be Lucy. She’s around here somewhere. On Wednesdays, she helps with the dishes.”

“Hamilton is that man then?” John sighed, taking a seat across the table from Meade. Hamilton sat a little way down the table, toward the end on Meade’s side. John knew plenty of men just like that back in London. Men who shamelessly debased themselves in front of women for tiniest scrap of attention. Hamilton didn’t quite fit the usual formula for such a man, but John had to admit there was something about him that made it hard to pull his eyes away from the scrawny redhead.

Across the table, Meade rested his hat on the bench beside him. He was slightly older than John, maybe about thirty. This was the type of man John expected to find working for General Washington, a learned Southern Gentleman from a prominent family who knew the order of things. If Meade had been behind the desk when John walked in, everything would be taken care of by now.

“Forgive me for prying,” John said between bites of a watery but rather flavorful stew. “But since I will be joining this merry group of soldiers, may I ask about the dynamic of the inner circle?”

Meade laughed, his green eyes brightening as a crooked smile crossed his face. “I take it your father arranged for you to be the French interpreter we’re looking for. If that’s the case you’ll be working closely with your new best friend, Mister Hamilton. He handles most of the correspondence and does quite a bit of the planning and strategy for small missions. He’s the brains of it.”

“French interpreter was the plan, yeah, apparently a letter of introduction and a promise from my father isn’t enough to have an audience with His Excellency. I also need an arbitrary appointment and to dance for a five-foot-tall boy who thinks too much of himself.”

“Hamilton will be the first to tell you, he’s five foot seven,” Meade smiled. “General Washington is in Philadelphia today meeting with a French General who’s come to help us. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

This was supposed to be the easy part. The last couple of years had been an awful pile of hardship and stupid mistakes. Joining the army was supposed to be the first step in the right direction. All he had to do was show up and the rest would take care of itself. He wouldn’t have to deal with people looking at him sideways or whispers behind hands at society events. As he learned more about camp John did his best to remember that he wasn’t another setback, but a pause. Tomorrow would be different.

He turned toward the end of the table where Hamilton was batting his eyes at an enraptured blonde woman in a light blue gown. Something familiar started to bubble inside John, somewhere between jealousy and contempt. When the woman was called away, Hamilton slid over to join John and Meade for the rest of the meal.

“What do you think, Ricky? Will this son of Henry will fit in our merry band of aides-de-camp?”

Meade nodded as he wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “It’ll be fine Hamilton. The two of you should figure out how to get along. If Mister Laurens will be working French translations, you’ll most likely be sharing a desk.”

Hamilton groaned, and let his head fall back, just as enthused about the prospect as John was.

“You’re at least learned in French though?” Hamilton asked. “Fluent? We have a remarkable number of Frenchmen coming to take up this cause”

John nodded. He’d been taught by his mother as a boy and then in some of the finest schools he could be sent to in Europe. Hamilton continued to eye him suspiciously.

“I gotta head back,” Hamilton wiped his mouth his sleeve and stood quickly walking off with his dishes, handing them to the servant whose job it was to clear plates from the tables when they were finished eating. John’s eyes never left him as he smiled and laughed his way into taking an extra pear from the young woman who gave him the extra bread.

 “An acquired taste, but I assure you he’d a good egg,” Meade said, pulling John’s attention back to the last of his meal. “He’s probably the smartest person in the army, including General Washington.”

 John caught Hamilton walking backward out of the mess tent with a wink to the women at the serving stations and doubted very much that a man like that could surprise him.

“Come on, I’ll walk you out to the inn, make sure you’re settled.” Meade stood and placed his hat atop his head. “It’s decent accommodation over there. Savor it, my friend, you’ll be living on a straw mattress on the bottom bunk until we move for winter camp.”

Once settled in the single room of the inn, John dug through his belongings for his stationary to write the promised letter to his father. So far, this journey wasn’t what he was hoping for, but tomorrow looked promising with the appointment scheduled to accept him into service. He was sure his education and experience would be just what General Washington needed. If he did end up working alongside that Hamilton fellow as Meade said, he’d be able to teach that man a little bit of tack. Show him how a man from Southern Society—like General Washington himself—should act.

[whatanoof]

Cold Hands and Warm Bodies

Merry Christmas! This is a Secret Santa gift for @autumnleaves1991-blog!

There’s a sequel now!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Whiskey x Reader

Word Count: ~4.7k

Content: fluff, dancing, swearing, oral sex(female receiving), rougher sex, fluffy, smut, there’s a part at the beginning where Reader rejects a man’s advances but it doesn’t get past name-calling

A/N: I liked the idea of a lonely Christmas in a new city turning into something much better through unexpected events, especially since so many are going to be celebrating with less people than normal due to the pandemic. The music referenced is Gasoline by Halsey from her Badlands album.

Your parents had begged you to not complete the move over the holidays, surely it could have waited a couple of weeks so that you could celebrate with your family. But you were decided, and the timeline of your new employment was not up to you. Staying in LA for Christmas wouldn’t have benefited anyone. The confidential nature of your job meant you couldn’t talk about your job with your family, and that’s all that families really want to know besides if you have a boyfriend yet. This left more rumors flying between the aunts than bullets around a battlefield. At this point, you’re pretty sure that your own mother thinks that you’re a prostitute.

Alcohol is an easy option to curb loneliness. The drink burns on the way down, but you savor it. It’s been cold in the new city, and you haven’t been able to shake the chill since moving. Your current choice of atmosphere is the bar closest to your house, leaving you with the freedom to slam as many drinks as would let you forget how alone you are at the time of year when no one should be alone. You don’t have to drive home this way. But now, inside and looking around at the excessive Christmas decorations, you begin to wonder if this was the best way to avoid the holidays.

There are Christmas wreaths all around, draped over as many surfaces as possible. Mistletoe hangs near the corners of the cleared section of floor, and you wouldn’t be surprised if some of those corners were soon occupied by drunk dancers. Lights dangle over the bottles behind the bar, and the bartender is wearing a Christmas elf headband. And to top it all off, most everyone inside has a partner, making you stick out like a sore thumb. Your sole point of luck is that the bar isn’t Western based. 

“Well, hello good-looking.”

The moment is shattered by the stranger’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you too close for the small amount of liquor in your body. The brunette man smells like spearmint, but his breath clearly reveals his state of mind. 

“The name’s Grey. Now, I heard a little birdie that told me that you’d be coming home with me tonight.” His grin appears genuine, but something glitters in his eyes that sends an icy distrust through your gut.

You turn away. “No thank you.” Better not to give him any attention, drunks are never reasonable if you let them believe for even a second that they have a chance.

“Now that’s not very kind. I was being civil, and you rebuff a poor man who just wants a warm bed tonight. May I at least get the lady’s name so that I can address her properly? Where’s the Southern hospitality? ” You catch a concerned look from the bartender, though there’s no need to worry. This isn’t your first rodeo.

“Nonexistent, Grey.” You grab his wrist, yanking it off of your shoulder. 

For a blissful second, the contact is gone, then it returns, and now his fingers are digging into your bare skin. His hands are cold. The handheld taser in your pocket is burning, and you reach for it as he snaps, “Now, there’s no need to be a bi--”

“Hey now,” The new voice is sudden, but there’s a distinctive Southern drawl to the baritone voice that sends pleasant tingles down your spine. Now that is a voice that you could listen to the rest of the night. “The lady said no. And last I checked, Southern hospitality doesn’t apply when said person isn’t Southern.” 

The arm around your shoulders vanishes and you slowly reach for your bag. Angry voices echo behind you, but you’re too preoccupied with leaving to worry yourself with the brewing argument. Goddammit you had only come for drinks, and now you might have to duck out before a fight starts.

But the angry voices lower and the normal barroom din returns. You slowly release your bag to rest once again at your feet, and a new man appears on the stool at your elbow. 

“Good evening.” It’s the rumbling voice of your faceless Southern gentleman. 

He saved you, but that doesn’t mean you can trust him. Feigning disinterest is more difficult now, but you take a sip of your drink and focus hard on how the light from the glass catches the amber liquid. “Thank you for stepping up. Doesn’t happen often.” 

“Unfortunately. Mostly for the men if you end up pulling that taser.” The casual observation catches your attention.

You turn and finally look your gentleman in the eye. Oh. You weren’t prepared for him to be so-- gorgeous. That’s really the only word you can summon to your scattered brain at the moment because, damn. Dark hair brings out darker eyes that glimmer warmly in the lowlights of the bar despite the cowboy hat. A mustache accents plush lips. Tan skin and bold features draw you in, and you don’t want to stop looking except he clears his throat and you realize that you’ve been staring for much longer than the appropriate time.

“Is there something on my face?” Your eyes dart back up to his face and you’re struck by how unfair it is that someone can be so effortlessly attractive.

“N-- no!” Stammering, really? Dammit you’re a full grown woman, pull yourself together. “How-- how could you tell I’m not from around here?”

He beckons a finger to you, and you lean in. “I am an undercover operative working with an American based agency that deploys me worldwide to handle top-secret missions.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back to take him in again. The jacket over the tight shirt shows his athletic build rather well, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, “Really?”

“No. It’s the accent.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. The pleased smile spreading over his face matches the one sneaking over your own. “You’re right, I just moved here.” A thought strikes you, “What are you doing alone in a bar during the holidays? No family or friends to visit?”

“None left that mean enough.” The statement is casual enough, except there’s a tension in his voice that makes you hesitate. “And I could ask you the same thing. What motivates a lady to move to a new city, all alone at Christmas?” The tension passes and he waves at the bartender, who immediately turns and starts making a drink. He’s a regular here, apparently.

“A job,” You swirl the remnants of your drink lazily before finishing it, “I’m starting tomorrow.” The last dregs slip down your throat, and the burning buzz will last for now.

“Ah, a beautiful woman and a hard worker. It’s too much for my heart.” 

“If that alone is too much, then this is going to be a short evening indeed.” The subtle innuendo doesn’t fly over either of your heads, and you don’t miss the smile spreading across his face when you flirt back.

“I think I may surprise you, darling. We’re both willing to work for what we want.” His drink arrives, and he takes a sip. Heat pools in your core at the implications. “If this evening is going to continue, may I have the lady’s name so that I can address her properly?”

You hum low in your throat in response. You’ve never brought a man home at the first meeting, never allowed flirting to be anything more than that on the first night. But something’s different about this one. In a split second decision, you give it to him. 

He repeats the syllables after you, rolling them around his tongue in a way that sends a thrill through you as you wonder what else he can do with it, “Gorgeous. George, another drink for the lady, on my tab.” 

You tilt your head back, catching his eyes, “And may I then have the gentleman’s, so that I may know the name of my fearless knight in… shining leather and spurs?”

He laughs, “Jack Daniels.”

“Jack Daniels, like the whiskey brand?” 

“Something like that.” His grin is mysterious and seems a little too practiced, but that’s fine with you. You smile back anyway. Your drink arrives, and you raise the glass to Jack as you take a sip, though you find that the burn of the whiskey doesn’t leave you with the same satisfaction.

A song starts playing in the background, and you straighten up and glance over your shoulder at the dance floor. “Wait, I--”

“--love this song.” You both finish the sentence together. You look back at him hopefully, and he looks at you with a bit of a challenge in his eyes. 

The stool scrapes across the floor and he rises, extending a hand to you, “Would you care to dance, sweetheart?”

“Depends. Are we going to square dance?” 

“Only if you want to, darling.”

“Yes to the dancing, no to the square dancing then.” You accept his hand and walk with him to the center of the dance floor. Your drinks remain abandoned at the bar.

The bassy thrum of the music and crooning vocals keep your hips undulating against his, but Jack has other ideas. He hasn’t let go of your hands, and your arms are crossed over your chest when he draws them up and over your head. Your arms extend and you spin, meeting his eyes as you grasp his hands. 

The alternative pop song doesn’t translate perfectly to the style that he brings, but you can hardly complain. Around you, people are grinding against each other, but a small space clears for him to sway and turn with you. It’s surprisingly fun compared to what you knew of night dancing in a bar. 

The tempo slows and you step inside his reach so that your back is against his chest. 

‘Are you strange like me?

Lightin’ matches just to swallow up the flame like me?’

His breath catches hot and heavy in your ear as you press back into him, savoring every breath and drop of sweat that is your effect on him. The verse fades, and you allow him to lead once again. The melody swells in your head, drowning out everything around you until it’s only him and you. But this time the lyrics make you wonder about the man holding your hands.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

The music ends with a crescendo and a final spin, and you’re left panting as your gaze locks with Jack’s. He’s holding you firmly, one hand on your waist, and your bodies feeling like they’re steaming in the chilly air. The spell breaks with a single glance upwards from him. 

“Well that’s a fine addition to an already wonderful night.” There’s a tinge of amusement in his voice, and you follow his gaze.

The mistletoe hangs directly overhead. You glance down, a thrill of nerves running through your body at the intensity in Jack’s stare. Something must have shown in your eyes or body language, because he relaxes and loosen his grip on your waist.

“Only with your permission of course, darling.” He’s fighting it, but disappointment clouds his tone, and he withdraws. “I understand if it’s not something you wan--”

You cut him off by snagging his collar and pulling him close. The surprise on his face gives way to a smirk as you quip, “Don’t mind if I do, cowboy.”

Then his lips are on yours and you’re melting into him. The bar fades into the background and you lose yourself in a man that you had met three hours ago. He tastes like your drink. Tingles spread through your body as he deepens the kiss, warming you to the tips of your fingers.

Then you’re being pressed backwards until you hit the wall, hands instinctively flying up to tangle in his already messy hair. Something soft and firm brushes your fingertips, and you snag it on instinct, lifting Jack’s hat to plop it on top of your own head. He breaks the kiss, a soft smile spreading over his face when he pulls back to look at you. 

“Do I make a good cowgirl?”

“Looks better on you than me, darling.” He kisses you again, hands sliding over your waist down to your ass, and you don’t think that’s a lasso pressing up against you. A low moan rumbles out of his throat, and you stifle a whimper at the sound. He chuckles, “Want to get out of here, cowgirl?”

“Yeah.” Lust boils in your stomach. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his kiss-swollen lips that part ever so slightly so you can see his tongue flick over them.

“Got any friends to notify of your immediate departure?” His breath ghosts over your skin and his dark eyes flick up from your lips to meet yours, warming your body as you lose yourself in the deep brown.

“No, too new to the city.” You whisper back, the noise of the club fading into the background while a wave of heat crashes over your body, swelling between your legs.

“Your place or mine?”

---

Funny enough, Jack didn’t bring a car either, but he doesn’t explain and you don’t question it. You don’t regret walking the short five minutes to and from the bar, especially when Jack pulls you close to his side as you walk. You’re just passing under the bridge on your street when he stops walking.

“Stop, do you hear that?” You instantly freeze, eyes darting around for any perceivable threat. There’s too many potential hiding places, the shadows of the bridge supports could hide a man of any size and--

“Listen closely…” He hums the tune from the bar and steps away, tugging you forward a couple of steps. He pulls you back into him, and you’re able to hear the melody through the vibrations in his chest. 

‘You can’t wake up, this is not a dream.’

You find your rhythm. The tempo picks up, only a shadow in your mind as you sway to the invisible beat. He matches you easily, and the two of you move with an unpracticed ease out from beneath the shadow of the bridge into the streetlight glow. The melody swells, and you laugh when a breeze ruffles your hair. You sing the last line to him.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

You end up back in his arms, breathing hard and smiling up at Jack. His fingers slip down to interlock with yours, “I can help with that.” You should be freezing, but heat throbs under your skin in time with your racing heart. 

He leans in, but just before his lips touch yours, you whisper, “Jack? We’re here.”

His eyes shift over to your front door briefly, then back to you. He grins. “Nice place.”

---

You laugh as you stumble through your front door, your back hitting yet another wall when Jack pins you to the side of the living room. Heated kisses trail down your neck and a muscled thigh slides between yours. You shudder at the contact against your clothed pussy, your heartbeat throbbing between your legs fiercely.

“Jack, bed’s that way.”

“Oh sweetheart, that would be the end goal for sure.” Hands support your rear, and you fold your legs around him. You’re vaguely aware of him walking you towards the door that you indicated, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention when he’s licking into your mouth and he’s so close and so warm and right there for you to enjoy. He lays you gently on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. 

“You want this?” The question is so starkly unexpected that you blink and sit up for a moment. He’s standing there between your legs, hair disheveled and shirt half unbuttoned. His pupils are completely lust-blown and his shoulders are heaving with the heavy breaths he’s taking, and you’re struck with the thought that this is the first time someone has thought to ask. But you’d have to be half-dead to say no now. 

“Yes.”

And then he’s undoing your pants and dropping to his knees in front of you. Warm breath ghosts over your exposed skin after he gently peels your pants off. You squirm as large, warm hands rub over your inner thighs. “Beautiful.” But he is too, with the way he glances up at you from between your legs. He’s absolutely beautiful, as he carefully pulls your panties to the side and drags his tongue through your folds. 

“You taste better down here, sweetheart.” He immediately concentrates around your clit, tracing lazy circles around the sensitive nub and you forget how to breathe. 

Your hips roll against his face, trying to gain more friction than what he’s giving, and you whimper as his mustache leaves a tingling trail on your skin. The heat pooling within your core is begging for more, and you’re close to doing the same as he continues to patiently taste you. 

“Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. I’m going to make you feel so good, darling, you’re going to be screaming my name.” A thick finger rests against you, gathering your wetness and continuing to massage against your clit while his tongue finally dips to press against your entrance. You flutter in response, a whine scraping against the back of your throat. His tongue presses deep into your core, and you clench around the insistent pressure.

“Ja-Jack I’m go-gonna--” The words refuse to come smoothly, but he seems to sense your urgency. His tongue returns to your clit, sucking and kissing the flesh while his finger slips into your pussy. 

“Come, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Every flick of his tongue against your clit pulls another whine from you. Fuck, something inside you snaps and then heat is burning through your body. The wave crests, and you dimly hear a choked moan when your floor muscles convulse and heat drips from you.

He continues to taste you long after you’ve stopped convulsing, while the light fades from you vision and you regain feeling in your limbs. And you understand something. He’s tasting you simply to taste you, giving for the sake of giving. You know why you allowed it to get past the flirting stage.

“You doing good, darling?” He climbs up over you and kisses you, lips molding to yours like they were made to. He tastes like you.

You can’t respond, don’t want to when it means pulling away from this moment right now. The only thing you want right now is to stay like this, to stay in this perfect warmth, where the only thing you know is that he’s kissing you and you’re floating on the sheer feeling of being able to give because you feel like it.

Then he shifts, and you feel his erection brush against your thigh. And your gut tells you it’s his turn now. You move your leg, bringing it up between his thighs. It bumps against his length, and he tenses, pulling away and dropping his head to the crook of your neck. And you take the moment to flip the two of you, straddling his hips. 

“Give me a second, darling, have to find a condom.” His arm reappears from the edge of the bed with his wallet, but you stop him.

“I have an implant. Are you clean?”

“Last checkup, yes. And I haven’t been with anyone since.”

You smirk, “Well then I see no need.”

He exhales, arms going behind his head as he grins up at you, “I’d have to say, as enjoyable as that just was, seeing you like this?” He shakes his head, “Best part of the night.”

“It’s about to get better.” His dick is velvety hard between your thighs, and you can’t help grinding down on it just a little. 

“I’ll believe it when I feel it.” He groans, head falling back against the pillow. 

The challenge floats in the air, and you grab both it and his length in a single moment. He’s going to be saying your name soon. Notching it at your entrance, you sink down in a single motion. He drags against your insides so perfectly, fitting to you and filling you so completely. Your back arches at the burning stretch, but all you can focus on is Jack’s groan when your butt meets his hips, how his body seizes under you, and how his hands fly to clutch at you. 

But his cock inside you isn't enough, you need more contact, need to know that he’s right there with you. You grab his wrists and drag his hands up to your breasts, relishing the moan that escapes him as he squeezes them.

Your name echoes through the air, followed by his gasping breaths as you raise yourself off of him and sink back down. The heat starts building inside you again. His hips jerk up into you, seemingly unintentionally. “God, fucking perfect. Feel so good around me. Not gonna last, not after earlier, please sweetheart.”

You grind down onto him, finding your rhythm again. The fire inside of you is constant and overtaking you. It swells on its own without needing anything else besides Jack, who’s looking up at you like you’re the only star in the sky. 

“You look so good bouncing on my dick, cowgirl, but I’m going to have you under me, squirming for me while I get you to keep making all of those cute noises. I’ll be-- fuck!” His breath catches and his hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and a voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re going to have bruises tomorrow. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

You fight to retain your own rhythm, but it’s unsustainable, and your screaming muscles wear down in the face of Jack’s strength. They give out, and you’re caught in the rhythmic slapping of skin as Jack takes over.

“Ja- Jack! Fuck!” You can’t organize yourself enough to think, let alone acknowledge him while he continues to drive up into you. The ragged cries ripped from your throat lose all coherency. It’s too much, and the orgasm rising through your body is taking your mind with it. A hand detaches from your waist and presses directly against your clit, rocketing you further towards your climax. “Jack!” 

“Come on sweetheart, I know you’ve got another in you. Let go. Let me take care of you.”

Your own orgasm hovers at the edge of your mind, but you shove it away in favor of tripping his. His breaths are coming heavier now, and his hips continue to slam upwards into yours. He’s going to outlast you at this rate, unless--

A hand grips your neck just enough that you register the pressure, and he drags you down against his body. The world flips around once more, and then you’re underneath him instead and his arms are planted on either side of your head as he-- fuck. The pace increases, no it must multiply by some large number because your body is shaking with every thrust, and the headboard is slamming against the wall and you’re glad that you don’t share these walls with anyone else. Your cry is muffled by his mouth, but the new angle causes him to drive up against something inside you that you swear makes you see a corner of heaven.

It spikes with a fury, driving you over the edge as you clamp down around him. Your body seizes, arching against Jack as the shockwaves claim your body. You’re rocketed somewhere high above the clouds for the second time tonight, and all you can really comprehend is how happy you are that you brought him home. And through the haze, you faintly hear him purring in your ear, “Good girl, pretty girl, gorgeous. Gorgeous.”

He keeps fucking you through your high, and you need him to cum. You need him to feel the same bliss that you do, and you know how to do it. The idea barely crosses your mind before your body accepts it, and your floor muscles clamp down almost of their own volition. He falters, and a gasp is the only sound you hear before he’s coming. His hips piston out and in one last time, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

When the light fades from behind your eyes, you feel yourself being shifted. Your combined juices trickle down your leg as he pulls out, and your back is pressed against his chest. You drift, blinking in and out of consciousness. You feel him rise from behind you and then hear the sound of running water. He returns moments later, and there’s a damp cloth cleaning between your legs before he’s back in bed behind you, arms locked around your waist and pulling you close. His fingers intertwine with yours over your belly, and as they brush against the skin of your stomach, you realize that they aren’t cold anymore. He drags the comforter over your bodies.

The world around you is dissolving in a haze of exhaustion, but his voice rumbles through the fog. You’re so comfortable and warm, and by all rights you should be asleep. But you force yourself back to the world of waking, enough to hear him thanking you as he plants slow kisses along the back of your neck. The delicious warmth of his skin against yours draws you farther under and stifles the confusion at the statement, and you finally surrender to the exhaustion pulling at your body. 

---

Your phone alarm wakes you the next morning to an empty bed. 

Realistically, you shouldn’t have expected him to be there, shouldn’t have hoped that it could have been more than a one time thing. Right? You’re a certified badass, a top-rated handler at Statesman Distillery who has guided multiple agents and friends through life and death scenarios. You deal in realism and pessimism. You have had one night stands before, none of which led to any kind of connection. You don’t need emotional connection to function. This shouldn’t be any different. Right?

Except you know how you normally feel after one night stands, and this isn’t it.

You’re on autopilot as you shower and dress for your first day. All you can think about is the warmth of his hands as they ran over your skin, his smirk as he caught your eye, mouth glistening with your release. His quiet ‘thank you’ last night as he curled his body around yours before falling asleep. If you could have had a say, you would have wanted more than one night. A second chance, maybe, but it’s not like you get many of those these days.

Statesman Distillery is across the street from last night’s bar, and the brisk air helps to clear your head and prepare you mentally. As soon as you walk through those doors, you’re Agent Seltzer, not a girl pining for a man whom you barely know beyond his name. You hesitate under the bridge on your way to work. The music echoes in your ears and chest. You keep walking. 

The receptionist directs you to your new office. Top floor, third door on the left. It’s roomier than your last one, though now you’re at HQ, not the LA branch office. A woman meets you at the elevator. She is slight, but her steely composure and short cut hair give her an air of maturity and ability. 

“Good morning and Merry Christmas, Seltzer.” She’s holding a basket with a label that reads ‘Happy First Day!’ “I’m Ginger Ale, the head overseer of the base-side handlers, and I’ll be giving you the basic acclimation on your first day. Sorry that it had to be a holiday, but an impending crisis in Chicago has just taken a turn for the worse. The mission briefing has been sent to your tablet.”

Your brow furrows slightly, and she continues as if she could read your internal question. “This isn’t usually my job, but it’s the holidays and most of the other agents trained in onboarding are on leave. We’re throwing you into the deep end on your first day, unfortunately, but your superiors at the LA branch assured us that you would take to it naturally.”

She sets the gift basket on your desk, and you notice the largest item in the basket is a bottle of the famed Statesman whiskey. You idly take it out and study the label. “Interesting first day gift.”

Ginger shrugs with a faint smile, “That’s directly from your assigned field agent, Agent Whiskey. He gifts those to his new handlers.”

“Any reason why?”

“He--” She seems to start to say something, then stops herself, “It’s an early apology. He’s experienced, and he operates as he sees fit. He burns through handlers faster than a hot knife through butter.”

The challenge floats above your head at the explanation, and you take it. “I’m assuming that I will get to meet Agent Whiskey before our official briefing?”

“Yes,” Ginger checks her watch, “In about… two seconds.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice is achingly familiar, and memories of last night crash over you like a heatwave. Second chances, hm?

Part Two if anyone cares for it

[spices-and-cherries]

Vacations with Benoit Blanc would include...

I hope you all enjoy this! I thought it would be a cute idea to do...

- So much planning. The two of you want to find the perfect place to go every time. Should it be a cruise or a roadtrip? France or Thailand? Tour busses or museums? 

- Benoit is somewhat partial to cruises, but is up for anything. At the end of the day, he just wants to relax and say that he had tried something new.

- So many pictures. He buys a disposable camera every time. Save for one or two blurry ones (probably taken while you were making him laugh), they’re all pretty good.

- His idea of vacation clothes include button up t-shirts (Hawaiian shirts, anyone?), chino or cargo shorts, loafers, and sunglasses. 

- He requires so much sunscreen, it’s almost worrisome. Benoit has really sensitive skin that burns fast if he’s not careful. He may or may not purposely hold too much so you have to apply his sunscreen for him. You’ll catch on eventually, but won’t say a word because you love babying him as much as he loves being babied. 

- Benoit enjoys visiting historical sites. When he was a kid, he was only ever able to read about them and has always wanted to go visit. He also relishes the opportunity to share his knowledge with you - and any other tourist willing to listen - about the site. Please ask him questions because nothing in that moment would make him feel more loved. 

- He’s the type to try and read up on the place(s) you’re going to. He doesn’t want to be unprepared for anything. He’ll even go so far as to memorize the streets in the area where you’ll be staying so you won’t need a map to get back to the hotel. 

- He will try to learn the language of the country you’ll be vacationing in. Turns out, he’s not very good with foreign languages. He might know a phrase or two, but he can’t get the grammar right. Even if he did, his accent becomes very apparent and you can’t understand a word he’s saying. He usually ends up buying a pocket dictionary and hoping that you can handle the rest.

- All that being said, he is able to read, at least a little, in the language. It’s not a lot, but enough to find out which stop is yours or where the restroom is. 

- He likes to get a cigar box from each country he’s visited. Over the years, he’s created quite the collection. 

- Throughout your trip, the two of you will look for little weird souvenirs for each other. When you get home, you’ll reveal them. 

- Usually, you’ll eat street food or in casual restaurants, but you do try and go to one fancy place. There’s nothing more romantic than seeing Benoit in a black suit laughing with you over some hors oeuvres. 

- Soft morning or evening sex. Benoit really enjoys not having to wake up early and tries to take advantage of that as much as possible. Once, while in France, you dirty talked him in French (you had studied up) and he was an absolute mess for the rest of the night.

- People love him - after all, a southern gentleman exudes charm where ever he goes. His charming smile, bright blue eyes, and ever-so polite demeanor has female shop-keepers giving him free things without blinking an eye. The more he protests, the more they give him - much to your amusement (and theirs). 

- Depending on the trip length, he will take everything out of his suitcase and into the drawers and closet. He feels a lot more comfortable that way.

- Benoit is the type to take the little shampoos and soaps from the hotel you’re staying in. He finds them convenient when he’s on business trips. He also tries to keep the room as clean as possible as to not bring trouble to the people who would otherwise be the ones cleaning it all up. 

 As always, please send me any requests or input! I love reading your comments - it makes me so happy that there are people who actually enjoy these little headcanons! I also have a little something fun for tomorrow!

- Simpy ❤

[demivampirew]

The Fantasy

August x Reader x Sy one shot

Triggers: smut; threesome; agressive sex; *nal; male dominant. (some fluff too)

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill​ @thetaoofzoe​​

A/N: It’s almost 3 am but I couldn’t help myself, I needed to write this 🤭

"Your neck is so soft and delicate," the tall handsome man told you as he kissed it and wrapped his hand around it. His tongue explored your smooth skin until it reached your mouth. The taste of liquor on those heavenly lips was intoxicating and the hair of his mustache gave you tingles. You were giggling as he continued to gently kiss your neck when you noticed a man sitting across the bar looking at you. It wasn't strange for a man to look at you after it was normal for men to desire you, but the intriguing thing about that man is that it looked like the man who was tasting your skin at that very moment. There were a few difference between them, though: one had a lot of hair and a mustache, the other had a bushy beard and shaved head. The one sitting on the table had camel coloured cargo pants and a Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt; the other had suit pants, a shirt and a tie. Even the energy was different. The one kissing you seemed to have more aggressive energy than the other man, who looked more serious. You grabbed the handsome man's chin and made him look at you and then you nodded in direction to the other guy. - I think I just found your doppelgänger.- you laughed playfully, biting your bottom lip. - He's my brother.- he explained without paying to much attention and putting his lips back of your neck. After grabbing his hand and smiling at you kissing partner, you walked towards the table were his twin was sitting. You sat next to him and the other brother sat next to you. - Hi, nice to meet you. I'm y/n- you introduced yourself smiling- And you are? - People call me Sy or Captain Syverson.- he replied. - Captain? Are you in the military?- you questions curiously. - That's right, ma'am.- he confirmed. He had a thick Southern accent. - Why do you have a Southern accent and you don't?- you asked, first pointing at the gentleman you were talking to and then to the one who could no stop kissing your neck. - Because when our parents got divorced, he went to live with my mother in Georgia and I'll stay here with my dear father.- the well-dressed man explained. When he mentioned his dad, he did it sarcastically, it seems like they did not get along, but you felt that it was better not to ask. - But didn't you tell me your last name was Walker?- you questioned confused. - I legally changed my name after I moved. I do not want to keep anything that relates me to that man and he has our mother's surname. - So this is the reunion you planned for me, brother? Am I supposed to spend my night watching you play with the lady? I thought this was a night for us to get some drinks and get acquaintance after a long time of no seeing each other.- the military man reproached his brother. - Relax, Jack. Have a drink, maybe find yourself a lady.- he suggested and his brother rolled his eyes. - Let's go. I'm sure both of you would be better off in your place and I can't spend one more minute listening to this crappy music.- he suggested. It was no surprise; a man who listens to classic rock would not like dancing music.

Since your home was the closer one, you offered them to go there. You had an empty room with a comfortable bed for Sy to sleep in if he wanted to. He shrugged and accepted the offer.

After getting to your place, the Captain went straight to the spare room and his brother waited for you to change inside your room. You came back from the bathroom wearing a black mini skirt - it was no much longer than a thick belt, with a thong underneath and a matching bra and high heels sandals. You walked towards Walker and he grabbed you by your ass, pressing his huge hands and grabbing it. He was sitting at the edge of the bed and made you sit on his thighs facing him. He exposed your breasts without taking away the bra and started to suck your nipples. He was no delicate but that was even more appealing. You felt his erection pressing your pussy and you were already wet. To be honest, you weren't just aroused by the attention that man was giving you, but because you kept imaging what it would be like to be with his brother too. He was extremely handsome as well and his attitude excited you. - May I ask you a question?- you asked. - Sure.- he said without much care, concentrated on sucking and bitting your breasts. - Would you be offended... Do you think your brot...- you said but stopped yourself at the thought of how weird it could be for him to hear that you had the fantasy of being with both of them.- You know what, forget about it.- you dismissed the question but he stopped what he was doing and looked at you raising an eyebrow. He seemed amused. - If you want to fuck my brother too, I don't mind. But you'll have to ask him and he's not that freaky.- he explained as he laid back, putting both elbows on the bed and smirking.

- Come in.- Syverson said after hearing a knock on the door. - Hi, I just wanted to see if you needed something.- you said entering the room. You covered yourself with a satin robe. - Everything is great, thank you.- he replied. - Were you trying to sleep?- you questioned. - That was the plan. Unfortunately, I don't sleep much. Too many years on service...I've seen too much shit that takes my sleep away.-he sighed.- Sorry, I don't want to spoil your night.- he apologized. - It's ok, don't worry.- you assured him. You walked slowly and then sat on the side of the bed. He looked at you confused but captivated. You slowly put your hand on his face and delicately started to stroke it. His eyes were fixed on you. You could feel the goosebumps your touch provoked on him. You got closer and kissed his lips. - Maybe I can help you forget about the horrible things for one night.- you whispered and he froze. You unzipped his pants, peaking at his face to make sure he was ok with that. He didn't speak but there was no need for words; his eyes said everything: he wanted you. You slide his briefs and grabbed his cock and let a big amount of saliva to fall on his member so it would hurt him as you moved your hand up and down, slowly at first and the fast. After a few minutes, you let him feel your mouth. Your beautiful soft lips caressed the skin of his manhood as your tongue circled it. He got desperate to taste you. He grabbed you by your hips, making you sit on top of him as he kissed you as if that was his last day on earth. He couldn't wait to be inside you, to please you.  As he was trying to take off your underwear, you cupped his face and gently looked at him. - I want you. I'm with your brother, though.- you said.- I...he said...he said he'd be ok with you joining us, but you don't have to if you don't want to.- you explained- but I want you, be sure of that. Although, I'll completely understand if it isn't something you are comfortable with. You pressed your forehead against him and then got up from the bed and walked to the door and before leaving you turned around to face him and said "think about it" and left. -I thought that you were never coming back.- Walker said amused. You took off the robe and went back to your previous position. He tasted your breasts and pussy. August liked it rough. He fucked your throat until he saw tears coming from your eyes and doggy style was his favourite position. He would grab both of your arms and put them on you back and he pounded you hard. After his first round, he continued sucking your nipples when someone knocked on the door. You walked to open it and Sy was at the other end, looking at you, speechless by looking at your naked breasts and the rest of your body. - Would you look at that... I didn't know that you had it in you, brother.- August said smirking devilishly at his brother as he lied naked on the bed, looking at his brother with amusement on his face. - I knew this was a mistake.- he said after looking at his sibling and turned around and was about to walk away when you stopped him. - Sy wait! You stopped it! - you gave August a warning look and he rolled his eyes and stood up and walked into the bedroom's bathroom.

The military man looked at you as your eyes fixed on his and you grabbed his face and kissed him sweetly. He pulled you closer to him, embracing you and then picked you up by your thighs and walked inside the room, placing you on the bed. Out of the two brothers, there was no doubt Syverson took the price for the best at pleasing a woman with his mouth. He hit the right spot with every movement of his tongue. He got on top of you and you felt him inside of you. The brothers could be so similar yet so different. August was the kinky one, the aggressive lover, the one who expected tears from the woman. Sy, on the other hand, was the passionate one. He made love, he wanted to feel the connection. You were interrupted by August clearing his throat. "I saw her first, brother. I have no problem sharing her, but I have to be there too, that's the deal" the tall man with the mustache reminded you. Caressing his face, you whispered to him "Just concentrate on me, and close your eyes if you want". He laid on the mattress and you got on top of him. You started to ride him and made him close his eyes while you took August on your mouth. You tried hard no to make too many sounds as he fucked your throat so Sy wouldn't lose his arousal by remembering that his brother was on there too. It was indescribable the pain you felt to have them both inside of you at the same time. Both of them were much bigger than average and them fucking you at the same time was something unimaginable. August was the one fucking your ass so he ruthless pounding style had you on the edge. But to say that you were in pain it didn't mean that you weren't having the time of your life. That was, without any doubt, the best sex you've ever had. After fishing, August left you to entertain his brother for a little longer and went into the other room to catch some sleep. Now, having you all to himself, Sy put quite a show. He showed off his talents at oral again and fuck you again and again until sunrise. He wasn't quite imaginative or dominant as his brother, but he brought another thing to the table: he was a true lover. He would make you feel like the most unique woman on earth. You woke up at noon and your body laid almost entirely over Syverson's. He had woke up earlier -or maybe didn't sleep at all. He kissed your forehead and caressed your face with his thumb.

- Good morning...or afternoon.- you greeted him, chucking. - Good afternoon.- he confirmed. - Were you able to sleep? -you questioned moving slightly to be able to look at his face. - Yes. My brother woke me up when I heard him left.- he explained and you remembered the crazy night. You looked at each other and laughed. - I'm sorry if I made you do something you weren't comfortable with.-you apologized. - That's ok, you didn't force me. I stay because I wanted to.-he assured you.- You know, my brother thinks I'm vanilla when it comes to sex. I'm not, though. It's not because I felt weird about being in a threesome with my brother that I doubted for a moment ...it's because I liked you too much and I didn't want to share you, but he was right, he saw you first. - He might have seen me first and had me before you as well... but you're the one I would like to keep seeing if you want to.- you said. - Absolutely.- he agreed.

[kxngmx]

Not everyone can say they’ve been to the Big Apple, but  [ HOLDEN KING], a [ 34] year-old [ cis male] has lived in [THE BRONX] for [ 1 YEAR]. This is the city of dreams and [ HE] knows it, because they came to NYC to be an [ ONLYFANS CREATOR/ HANDYMAN].. Living in the city means they meet all kinds of people, but everyone always seems to think they look like [ DEREK THELER]. They even got away with free cab fare once because of it! [it’s a-me Davis]

Tw: parental neglect, assault, cheating, sex work

B A S I C S

 FULL LEGAL NAME: Holden Beaufort King

 NICKNAME(s): Beau (online)

 AGE: 34

DATE OF BIRTH: April 16th

NATIONALITY: American

 LANGUAGES: English

SEX: MALE

 GENDER: cis man

PRONOUNS: he/him

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

BIRTH ORDER: youngest

 HOMETOWN: St.Marys, Georgia

 CURRENT RESIDENCE: The bronx, New York

 RELIGION: Christian

 EDUCATION: high school diploma

 OCCUPATION: Handyman for hire

MARITAL STATUS: single

FAMILY:

SIBLINGS: Two older brothers 

RELATIONSHIPS:  single

 PETS: a lab named tilly

P H Y S I C A L T R A I T S

 HEIGHT: 6’5

 WEIGHT: 210 lbs

 BODY TYPE: muscular

 EYE COLOR: blue

 HAIR COLOR: ginger boy rights

 HAIR TEXTURE: straight. Usually cut short and tight

SCARS|MARKS: n/a

Pinterest

 Tw: parental neglect, assault, cheating, sex work, 

 Background

Holden is a simple country boy, or at least that’s what he’ll tell you if you ask and with his worn Levi’s and thick southern accent it’s easy to believe that he fits the southern gentleman role he’s cultivated for himself between pleases and ma’ams. There’s a lot more to him though. He’s a troubled guy, in and out of juvie for various misdeeds ranging from hotwiring his teacher’s car to beating another student so badly that he spent weeks in the hospital afterwards. His parents were absent, at best, his dad in and out of jail in a parallel to his son and his mom too busy caring for her ailing mother to realize that her son needed help. He joined the army as soon as he turned eighteen and was dishonorably discharged not three years later after taking the fall for another soldier’s mistake.

 He tried to go straight after that, drifting and taking odd jobs as he traveled along the eastern coast, until he met his now ex-fiancé. She was kind and she listened to him and he didn’t feel so much like the trash people had convinced him he was when he was with her, but he’s always been self-destructive and he ruined that the same way he’s ruined everything else in his life. He began an affair with her best friend, a stupid mistake that he still regrets, and ended up getting caught not long after. 

 But that’s just how things go.

 Now he’s living in the Bronx, working as a handyman and generally being the only person he knows with access to a truck, making him a go-to for moving. After a drunken dare, he started an onlyfans account and is actually making more money than he’s ever made doing anything else, being in the .1% of creators the last two months with no indication that his growth is stopping. He’s gone from barely scraping by to having more money than he’s ever had, leaving him with a spending problem that would be an issue if he ever stopped making content. 

[hopelikethemoon]

Butterflies (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Butterflies Rating: PG-13 Length: 1900 Warnings: Pining.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in  June 1988.  Summary: Reader spends an evening out with Connie and Steve. 

@grapemama​ @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​​ @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​​ @snivellusim​​ @lukesrighthand​​ @historynerd04​​ @mrsparknuts​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @awesomefandomsunited​​ @ah-callie​​ @swhiskeys​​ @lady-tano​​ @beskar-droids​​ @space-floozy​​ @cable-kenobi​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​ @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​​ @frietiemeloen​​ @arrowswithwifi​​ @random066​​ @uncomicalhumour​​ @heather-lynn​​ @domino-oh-damn​​ @cyarikaaa​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​  @yabby-girl​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​​ @punkass-potato​​ @coredrive​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​​ @sabinemorans​​ @buckstaposition​​ @holkaskrosnou​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​

“So,” Connie started with a coy look, “Steve tells me you’ve caught the eye of a certain someone at work.”

You tensed, ever so slightly, as you brought the beer bottle to your lips and took a sip. “We’ve just had one date.”

“Oh, so it was a date?” She wiggled her brows. “That sounds like there might be another date, doesn't it, Steve?” Connie questioned, nudging him in the ribs. 

You shot Steve a withering look. You had explicitly told him not to go running his mouth about your date. And that meant Connie. 

“Who needs a refill? Oh, look you do, honey.” Steve remarked as he picked up Connie’s empty wine glass and retreated towards the bar. 

“I told him not to tell anyone.” You explained to Connie as she met your gaze with a questioning look. “You know how I feel about dating coworkers.” The uncomfortable conversation the Murphys had roped you into after you started working for the DEA was still fresh in your mind a year later. 

“But he’s not really your coworker.” 

“I see him at work!” You huffed a little, folding your arms across your chest. “Sure, he’s more of a work-adjacent associate.” You shrugged your shoulders, “I just want to keep this whole thing on the downlow for now.”

Connie looked so excited for you. It actually kinda made your heart hurt a little. She truly wanted the best for you — and everyone, really. And at least now she wouldn’t keep trying to find you a date. 

“Is there something to keep on the downlow?” 

You rolled your eyes and took another swig of beer, “We’re going hiking this weekend.” 

“Okay, I have to ask,” Connie started, “Did you guys sleep together?”

“Really?” You let out an exasperated sound, sinking back against the booth. “No. Okay? We did not sleep together.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” She slid out from her side of the booth and moved to join you on yours. “I’m not going to judge you for how you live your life but—”

“Sounds like you’re about to.” You side-eyed her. 

“I’m not. But I am glad that you might’ve found someone to settle down with.” 

“We have had one date, Connie. One. Date.” Your brows drew together as you turned to look at her. “I don’t know how things work in West Virginia, but…” 

“Oh, shut up!” Connie laughed, squeezing your arm as she leaned against you. “We should double date.” 

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “I meant it when I said I’m trying to keep this thing on the downlow, okay?” 

Steve returned then, sliding into the booth across from the two of you. “You two through talking about the suit?”

“You’re as bad as Javier.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “Lance is a perfectly decent person.” He was actually pretty fantastic, in your book. He was a charmer, that was for certain. A little bit of a southern accent that really suited his smooth way of talking. Strong jaw, pretty blue eyes. 

The only thing wrong with him was the fact that Javier hated him. Steve did too, but Javier… really hated the guy. 

The funniest thing was the fact that you were dating Lance because of Javier. If he hadn’t pointed out that he didn’t like the way the ‘CIA suit’ was looking at you, you wouldn’t have noticed that Lance was hitting on you. You tried to keep work and your personal life separate. It was hard to do that in Colombia, where your work friends had become your only friends. 

Javier had no idea that he had put Lance on your radar as a potential boyfriend. Boyfriend. It was such a juvenile term, but Lance had already put that out into the universe. It had actually been sweet. After your date, he’d walked you home, kissed your cheek, and told you that he would be honored with the chance to be your boyfriend. 

But it put you in a weird position. Javier hated Lance. He hated the CIA, in general, but Lance really seemed to piss him off.  Every time you were stuck in a joint department meeting, Javier would seethe over every fucking word Lance said. Not that it would just stop after the meeting. 

You were pretty fucking nervous about letting Javier find out about you and Lance. That was the sole reason you’d told Steve. You wanted to know what he thought would happen when Javier found out. But the man was a wild card sometimes and, as Steve pointed out, you tended to be on the same page as him. 

Which meant there was every chance you might lose Javier. And that prospect really sucked. Who else was going to talk telenovelas with you? 

Steve drummed his fingers against the table, shaking his head, “Let’s make one thing clear right now. I am not as bad as Javier. If you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” 

You smiled at him, “Thank you.” 

“We’ll have to have both of you over soon,” Connie suggested. “Once you’re ready to be more public about your relationship.” She nudged you in the ribs, “Don’t worry about whatever issue Javier has. You’re living your life, not his.” 

“Yeah.” You chewed on your bottom lip as you finished off the last of your beer. “You know, we’ve got an early morning, Steve. I think I’m gonna head home.” 

“Already?” His brows rose upwards. “Alright, well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Are you okay?” Connie questioned as she slid out of the booth so you could get out. 

“I’m just tired.” You admitted and you were. But you also really didn’t want to have this conversation. “Five gets here fast.” 

She hugged you, “I really am happy for you.” 

“Thank you,” You squeezed her back. “See you in the morning, Murph.” He offered him a mock salute, before you headed to the bar to close out your tab. 

It felt stupid to run, but you really didn’t want to talk about your fledgling relationship with Lance. If you weren’t careful, Connie would already have your wedding and honeymoon planned by the weekend. 

You really liked him too. He’d been an absolute gentleman during the date — the kind of gentleman that made the butterflies in your stomach swarm just from thinking back on it. It had been awhile since you felt that kind of giddy. 

 ———

 Sleep was not your friend. Every time you started to fall asleep, your mind would present some new topic for you to stress about. Currently, it was Javier. Of course it was Javier. As if he wasn’t constantly on your mind recently, as you mulled over whether or not you’d lose his friendship. Nights like this one was precisely why you didn’t want to lose him. 

You threw off your covers and padded barefoot out of your bedroom, grabbing the phone off the side table. You caught ahold of the cable, keeping it from snagging on the edge as you sat it down on the sofa beside you. 

You curled your legs beneath you as you sank back against the sofa, turning the TV on and seeking out whatever telenovela was on at one in the morning. You tucked the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you dialed a familiar phone number. 

It took two rings before he picked, “Hello?”

“Hey,” You offered quietly. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.” 

“You didn’t,” Javier assured you, though his voice sounded rather exhausted. 

“Amar y Vivir is on.” 

“Yeah?” Javier questioned, before you heard the rustle of Javier’s hand covering the receiver. “Hang on a second.” The line went quiet. He’d clearly sat the phone down. You could barely make out the sound of voices — his and a woman’s — though both were distant and muffled. 

He clearly hadn’t been up. 

You were a second away from hanging up, before Javier returned. “Sorry about that, company just left.” He sighed heavily, “What’s this about Amar y Vivir?”

“Javier, you didn’t have to kick the poor woman out at one in the fucking morning to talk telenovelas with me.” 

“It’s fine.” He assured you. “She’s already gone and I’ve already got the TV on.” He sighed heavily and you could almost picture him dragging his fingers through messy hair. 

“I still can’t believe they chose to show a car bombing,” You stated, veering your mind away from the direction it was headed. “In the current political climate? It was ballsy.” 

“I’m impressed Escobar hasn’t found a way to permeate the telenovelas yet.” Javier offered with a chuckle, “There’s nothing he won’t use to his advantage.” 

“Don’t ruin novelas for me, Javi. You can’t make them about work.” 

Javier snorted, “You’re the one who brought up car bombs, baby.” 

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not your baby.” 

“You got a preference for something else, baby?”

“No.” You laughed softly. “It’s fine.” 

“That’s what I thought. “Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, before sighing heavily. “You know, this isn’t a half-bad novela. I still think them having a kid was an odd choice.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He’s got his enterprise, she’s got her music.” He paused for a moment, humming thoughtfully. “I dunno. They just didn’t strike me as the parenting type.” 

“I guess I get that,” You shrugged. “Her own parents weren’t the best.” You grew quiet and realized you were listening to the sound of Javier breathing, instead of focusing on what Irene was singing on the screen. “Javi, have you fallen asleep?”

“No.” He answered, though you weren’t entirely convinced. 

“Javi?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re asleep aren’t you?” 

Javier exhaled slowly, “Maybe.” 

“Javi, just go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“You know I’m…” He trailed off, growing quiet again. It sounded like maybe the phone had slipped out of his hold. “I’m always going to answer the phone for you.” 

Which was a silly thing to say, considering he had no way of knowing that it was you calling him. “I hope that’s the truth, Javi.” You whispered, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you now. “I really hope you’re still going to answer when I call.” 

You started to put the phone back on the cradle, but you paused. Maybe he’d wake back up and expect you to be on the other line still. You stretched out on the sofa, tucking the pillow under your head. 

This might be the last time Javier would stay up — or fall asleep — watching telenovelas with you. Even sleeping, you weren’t quite ready to let that go. Just in case, you lost this. 

But Connie was right. You weren’t living his life, you were living your life. 

Lance wasn’t going anywhere. 

If Javier cut you off, it would hurt like hell but you weren’t going to let it hold you back. That wasn’t you. You’d jumped through every arbitrary hurdle, you’d been met with thanks to men, and the last thing you were going to do was let Javier’s bad attitude hold you back from something that had the potential to be great. 

You heard a rustle on the other end of the line and you brought the phone back to your ear, “Javi?”

“Sorry, I uh…”

“Fell asleep?”

“Yeah.” He laughed nervously. “I’m awake now. I’m not going anywhere.”

You really hoped that was true. 

[missramu]

Johnny Joestar Headcanons

So, I was really bored and decided to write about my favorite Jojo, 𝓙𝓸𝓱𝓷𝓷𝔂! This is a mix of headcanons with some canon stuff.

So, here we go!

✰ Johnny was that typical doll-like perfect baby: curly blond hair, pale skin, pink cheeks, little freckles and big blue eyes that followed everything with curiosity. The clothes he used to wear also helped to mantain that look: in the Victorian era, babies from wealthy families used to wear dresses with plenty of ruffles, laces, ribbons, buttons and frills -no matter their sex- and bonnets. Nowadays he still has freckles; although not that many. They’re mostly on his cheeks and arms.

✰As we know, Johnny is the youngest of two brothers (being Nicholas 5 years older tan him). This, plus the fact that he also looked really fragile, made his mother really over-protective of him. This was usually seen as Johnny’s being Anne’s favorite, but she only wanted to protect his youngest son. The way his mom treated him made Johnny a shy, yet kind, child. That kindness made him adopt Danny, as well as taking care of Slow Dancer even if he knew that she was old and almost ruthless.

✰ His hair gets wavy in humid weather. When he was a child his hair was a curly mess after taking baths, but now it simply curls in soft waves, which he tries to straighten as much as possible.

✰He was born in Danville, Kentucky; so he has a heavy Southern accent. But since the Joestar family used to constantly travel to Britain -and actually lived there for some years-, Johnny added some British idioms to his vocabulary, thus resulting in a funny combo of British slang said in heavy Southern accent.

✰He grew up in a wealthy family -his father was tied to aristocracy, and also was a famous racer and breeder, having won the Triple Crown seven times and owning farms to breed racing horses-, so he’s a little bit of a spoiled brat sometimes. This status also made him picky over certain things, like food or baths.

✰Johnny was educated to be a “British gentleman” and, even if his own personality sometimes makes him fail at it, he still tries to behave as polite as possible. One habit that stayed with him was the one to note everything down, showing off his fine calligraphy and his accountant skills. The Joestar kid also knows Latin and Greek, as he was schooled. He even went to Oxford for a short period of time.

✰Johnny has never been fond of dark colours; he has always preferred to dress up in light ones. Luckily, they suit him.

✰Since he was a child, he has proved to be very perceptive of his surroundings, as well as being able to read the mood quite easily. Johnny is also good at focusing, what makes him a really good shooter -probably hunting would have been one of his hobbies, if he wasn’t kind and compassionate-. He has proved to being able to shoot at little and/or moving targets, even if firing from odd angles and perspectives.

✰Johnny loved his mother, and would try to follow her everywhere like a duckling would follow its mother. It wasn't surprising that his first words were "mama". His next word was "horsie", and would enthusiastically say it as he pointed to the horses in the fields when the family decided to take a walk around the farm.

✰In the Victorian era, it was common for toddlers to rarely be in contact with their parents; as they were mostly raised by a nanny. He did have a nanny -whom he loved deeply-, but his mother was still around at all times; she was always there for him. Despite breaking this usual thing, he was indeed raised to be like the stereotypical Victorian child: proper, polite and quiet.

✰The youngest Joestar loved to visit the horses in the family farms, enjoying their company. His fondness for these animals evolved into his skills as a jockey; as he also is well-versed in equine science.

✰Johnny was five when he first rode a horse, and his father quickly considered him a genius. The young boy quickly started to believe this as an irrefutable truth, his ego beginning to grow. Although he indeed is a genius with plenty of skills that allow him to ride across many types of terrain, or even challenge fellow genius jockey -ahem, Diego Brando-; having such a big ego ended up wounding him.

✰Even if George did praise his early horse-riding skills, the rest of Johnny’s childhood was marked by a strained relationship with him. His father was unnecessarily severe, to the point of physically punishing Johnny. He also favored Nicholas immensely, belittling the younger one with constant comparisons. After Nicholas’ death, George was convinced that “God had taken the wrong son” and took out his sadness and rage on Johnny. This cruel behaviour caused Johnny great pain, and an enormous feeling of inferiority.

✰Anne's death was a big shock for the youngest Joestar. He felt like he had lost the only support he had in the family; his mother would comfort him after his father scolds and punishments. She also happened to die a short time before Nick's accident. Johnny was 9 when his brother died; and around 7-8 when Anne died. His father cruel behaviour towards Johnny hurt him, and the little boy was upset because he didn't entirely comprehend why his mom wasn't coming back.

✰The only one who calls him by his full name -Jonathan- is his father, and he despises it. Nowadays, hearing his full name triggers something on him, reacting with some kind of fear. He was used to listen to his father call him only to point out his mistakes and scold him; so hearing “Jonathan” makes him have that kind of reaction.

✰He is a magnificent horse tamer, as seen with Slow Dancer: the horse was introduced as wild and ruthless, but she warmed up to Johnny, to the point of helping him get on her by hoisting him and rolling him down his neck and into the saddle.

✰After his father disowned him and threw him out of the Joestar household, Johnny, in shock, decided to shut himself off. With this, he also created a vain and narcissistic facade in order to hide the sadness this rejection caused him.

✰He tried to take Black Rose -Nicholas’ horse- with him when he was disowned.

✰After he was disowned, when Father’s Day arrived, Johnny used to spend the day in a sour mood, secluded and probably drinking, trying to forget his lame childhood.

✰With his pride harmed, he decided to prepare for the Kentucky Derby, winning it at the age of 16. He made it out of spite, trying to prove his father wrong and growing his own ego; maybe he couldn’t defeat Diego back in the UK, but he won the Derby. He still believes that winning the Derby was his greatest accomplisment.

✰When he was shot and paralyzed, Johnny felt his own pride crushing him: everything he showed off suddeny vanished. Unable to ride again, the horse-riding promise fell into oblivion; he lost all the friends and respect he had earned as a jockey. No one came to visit, leaving him behind; even his own father disappeared from his life, not even visiting him in the hospital. For that, Johnny is used to being abandoned: he forces himself to not get attached to anyone, since he believes that they’ll probably leave him.

✰During his stay in the hospital, the nurses used to dose him with morphine. They did it in order to shut him up –the poor boy was in terrible pain-, but for that, he got addicted to morphine. Luckily, it was only for a short time, since he managed to get clean several months after leaving the hospital.

✰Due to having such a big ego, now his past glory crushes him. He hates how he lost everything in such a pathetic way; but also believes he deserves it.

✰Surprisingly, his arms and chest are really strong; because he is always using them to crawl around and to lift himself.

✰Due to his light complex and weight, he is terribly ticklish.

✰He is a Christian, and believes in Fate and karma, but in a kind of wretched way. Johnny believes that, throughout the years, Fate itself was taking revenge on him for his misdeeds; and that he deserved every misfortune he received. His obsession with the Corpse showed his obsession with karma too, and how he wanted to reset it to a neutral state, paying off his negative debt. His beliefs in Fate explains his lack of confidence and constant panic of losing everything, since he firmly believes that Fate could at any moment take away his hopes.

✰Johnny has depression and, for this, a lack of confidence. He considers himself a useless person, a burden, and unworthy of love. This gloomy perspective of life came from his youth, making him a pessimistic man.

✰TW//suicide. He has considered -and tried- to commit suicide; but he couldn’t. He claims that it’s because he’s a “coward that hates pain, and doesn’t have the balls to finish everything”; but, deep down, it’s because he holds on to even the smallest hope.

✰TW//self harm. He has several scars: the ones on his arms are smaller, and were self-inflicted -self-harm and suicide attempts-. He also has some scars on his legs, caused by wounds he got by trying to stand up, walk and ride; but the biggest scar is the one covering half his back, as a memento from the accident. The bullet left a mark, surgery made it ugly, and the abuse he endured during his stay in the hospital made it worse. Therefore, he now is ashamed and self-concious of his back.

✰Seeing his legs makes him feel weak, and he hates that. He also despises feeling as defenceless as when someone picks him up to carry him without his consent. He truly hates feeling powerless, and it also makes him incredibly angry -and lowkey sad-. He can only tolerate this if it’s someone who he deeply trusts and knows, and only if he has asked for it.

✰At first, he wouldn’t let anyone touch neither his legs nor his back; but after warming up a little, he would tolerate caresses and gentle pats.

✰He also hates when people look at him with sorrow or as if they were pitying him. He may be disabled, but he’s still perfectly capable of plenty of things. Usually, he will reject any kind of help as politely as possible, but his anger will show.

✰Meeting Gyro made him throw away his harsh facade. At first, he was uncaring of everyone else save himself, only maintaining a polite but cold demeanour towards people he met; but Gyro’s influence made Johnny slightly more friendly.

✰ Gyro also made a great impact in Johnny’s perspective of life; not all of a sudden, but in gradual steps. The Italian man gave him hope, helped him to knock out his lack of confidence, gave him some assurance and optimism and also was genuinely nice to him, making Johnny grateful for meeting him. He treasures their relationship deeply.

✰Johnny doesn’t belittles Slow Dancer for being old, as he knows that she has plenty of experience as a Racing horse, and plenty of stamina. He truly knows his mare, possessing great knowledge of her: he knows and perceives her abilities and limits, and is able to predict what Slow Dancer will be capable of. They have grown quite close to each other, and she ocasionally nudges and licks him gently. Johnny loves this.

✰Sometimes, to kill some time, he and Gyro will exchange curses and slang in their respective languages. Gyro finds American sayings strange.

✰Gyro and Johnny had a hard time understanding each other in the beginning of their relationship: the older man had a thick Italian accent, and Johnny had to decipher what the hell was he trying to say. After a while, they grew used to each other's accents, but Gyro still made fun of Johnny's.

✰ His determination doesn’t waver, despite having failed several times. Johnny focuses on his goals, and puts them above anything else. He is also willing to endure severe wounds in order to reach them. And if you also add his stuborness…

✰The man is REALLY stubborn. If he wants to get something, he WILL, no matter what. If he has to, he will be violent or kill his opponents. This is called as “dark determination flickering in his eyes”, indicating a ruthlessness which would make Johnny able to kill in cold-blood. For this, he may seem amoral and selfish, even extending this to the interest of his loved ones. Yet he isn’t truly amoral, protecting defenceless people and taking damage to protect the ones he cares about.

✰He’s rather impulsive and hot-headed, which makes him take action as soon as possible. Sometimes, he might end up regretting not thinking BEFORE acting.

✰ Johnny would do anything for his loved ones:

Even if he’s afraid of his father, he has always tried his hardest to live up to his expectations.

He loved Nicholas deeply and looked up to him as an idol, and blames himself for his death. After he died, he became guilt-ridden, believing that his brother’s death was his own fault and that he should have died instead.

He was willing to abandon the Corpse Parts he had to save Gyro.

(JOJOLION SPOILERS!) When Rina was struck with the Rock Disease, Johnny stole the Corpse to make it transfer the disease away from her, not caring who would receive it and suffer in her place. But when the disease transfered to his son, he healed him by transfering it to himself, dying in order to save his wife and son.

✰He’s the CEO of being done with everyone’s bullshit. He’s angry 85% of the time, and usually cries out of anger.

✰ He’s also a sarcastic little shit. Any stupid questions you make him will be answered with his fine sarcasm.

✰He’s HORNY! This is shown with his bug bite fetish and the fact that he has been involved in at least one threesome. He doesn’t mind empty sex either -as he slept with several girls who came to him only for his fame-. He’s also bisexual.

✰When it comes to affection, he prefers to show his emotions through actions. For him, they speak louder.

✰Regarding to affection, Johnny will deny it; but he is touch-starved. The man really loves hugs and physical contact. He likes to hold on tight and get as close as posible. Since he doesn’t usually speak out loud his emotions, he will show them physically. However, he would rather be held, feeling loved and protected.

✰He feels guilty when someone falls in love with him, since he believes he’s not worthy of happiness nor love. He tends to think that he’s making them waste their time on him, when they could be with someone who could provide them with what they deserve. He can’t help but compare himself to others, belittling himself.

✰When he has a crush, he will do anything to deny it. He doesn’t want to admit how someone began to be so important to him, and is afraid that “Fate” might take them away from him. If he has to avoid them, he will; just to get away and not face his feelings.

✰George does reconcile with Johnny, and feels ashamed of how he treated his own son. He claims to be proud of him now, and even gives Johnny Nicholas’ boots. At first Johnny was resentful and wasn’t planning on forgiving him, since he believed that his father was only coming back for his recovered fame. After a couple weeks he decided against that, forgiving George and honouring him by naming his only son after him.

✰Nicholas’ boots were one of his most beloved possessions, and were passed down as a family relic.

✰If Rina had allowed him to name their daughter, he would have called her Anne, in honour to his mother.

✰In Japan, the Joestar-Higashikata family lived in a farm. Although the place is designed in the Japanese traditional way, Johnny couldn't help but give it some Western touches, specifically to the barns. These ones were designed to be as similar as the ones his father had in Britain and Danville. It made Johnny nostalgic, but in a gentle and warm way; he purposefully made them like that, so he could remember his roots.

✰They were quite wealthy: not only for the Higashikata's fruit business, but also for Johnny's connection with the Japanese government.

✰As a horse-riding teacher, his pupils loved and respected him deeply. Johnny liked discipline -as he took his profession seriously-, but was also very kind to them, treating them with the respect he never received.

✰Obviously, he taught his children to ride as early as possible.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

First Meetings - Arthur Morgan/Elizabeth McGill

Series: Call it Fate or Call it Chance 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Elizabeth McGill (Plus size, Female OC) 

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Summary: Arthur Morgan hears someone in distress in the woods and goes to help. It’s a small world though and soon finds himself meeting a friend of one of his acquaintances. Little does he know it’s the start of a relationship that might just change his fate.  

Warning: Talks of hunting, wolves get killed because they’re trying to eat OC, sorry! Talks of canon character death, spoilers? 

Rating: T

Notes: So, I don’t have the energy these days to write a full fic, but I figured if I write a series of interconnecting one-shots then I can write for these two, get the story there, but without needed them all to lead off from one another like chapters. This series will document that relationship between Arthur Morgan and Elizabeth McGill, a plus size, English OC of mine who’s basically the online character but with less of the outlaw stuff. I hope you love her as much as I do and I hope you enjoy this first part in the series.

Archiveofourown

I’m always happy for requests, suggestions, prompts, questions about this two even if my normal requests are closed. Feel free to draw my characters, feel free to write stuff for them, feel free to ask me questions about them. 

“Oh, go away you bloody little blighters! Shoo! I said shoo!” Arthur heard the call over all else, a lilting English accent, soft but scolding, like a mother to a troublesome child. He shifts Dave, the large black shire who he’d allowed Jack to name, forward, just breaching the tree line to see a woman standing on the lower branch of a tree, arms wrapped around the trunk. Wolves circled the base, baying, waiting, biding their time, hoping she’d slip. They were so entirely focused on her that they gave Arthur and the large horse no mind, not caring much for them at the moment. Clearly they had decided this woman was dinner and had some sort of spiteful vendetta, if wolves could feel spite that is. 

She was a plump thing, short in height, round in figure with dark chestnut hair piled high in a gibson style pompadour atop her head. Her cheeks were rouged and her lips painted a poppy red, heavy skirt falling around her feet, kicking up every now and then as a wolf attempted to jump high enough to reach her, to try for a bite. He watched her kick one a way, a well aimed kick that set the wolf flopping to the ground with a yelp before it got back up again growling. A pretty thing, for sure. 

Elizabeth McGill very rarely cursed out her horse, Scrawny, but today she was certainly doing so, mentally of course. She loved her big, doofus of a horse, the gypsy cob was anything but scrawny and he was gentle natured. He was, however, a coward when it came to wolves. He had bucked her so hard she’d lost her glasses, and in her haste to climb a tree hadn’t been able to find them again. If she could see she’d just shoot the bloody wolves circling her, unfortunately, she was blind as a, well, person without her glasses, and she did not trust that she’d hit a single one. She was usually a fine shot, hunting had become part of her trade, but...she usually could see while doing it. It also didn’t help that Scrawny had run off with all but her revolver, leaving her there. His loyalty was astounding. 

“Y’alright, miss?” She can’t see much, just a blurry shape at the edge of the trees, big enough to be a man on a horse, big and dark coloured. The voice is deep, a heavy southern drawl that is pleasant on the ears, even more so because she’s been waiting desperately for a helping hand. 

“I could do with a little assistance, sir!” She was usually the one helping others, but today, the tables had turned and she was not going to turn down the one person who’d arrived in the last half hour. She was fed up of clinging to a tree trunk especially in a heavy autumn skirt. She hadn’t been planning on hunting that day, she’d already done quite enough on the journey down from the Adler Ranch and had been close to Valentine, expecting to simply sell the pelts, teeth, claws, and the like that she’d gathered. Her first mistake was expecting a simple, calm journey of course. Things never were simple or calm, if it wasn’t a cougar attempting to eat her, an ambush by some local gang, or some fellow in need of help, then it was bad weather or snakes. The latter of which Scrawny hated even more than wolves, if that was possible. 

She didn’t so much as watch the man circle around on his horse, shooting the wolves, as much as squint ineffectively and listen to the sound of hooves clipping the dirt, snorts from a remarkably brave horse, and the dying yelps of wolves. Part of her was envious that Scrawny wasn’t that brave, had he been she could have easily dealt with the wolves herself and never ended up in this damnable tree.

“You can come down now, miss.” The man proffers a hand and Elizabeth takes it using its strength and a hand on his shoulder to keep her balance as she clambers down from her perch, she’s still blind and the help is appreciated. She doesn’t doubt that she’d easily take quite the tumble without guidance. He is nothing if not respectful, the other hand that rests at her waist to help down is placed just so as not to cause offence and is removed the moment her feet are on stable ground. 

What he truly notices is just how short she really is, now she’s beside him her head barely comes to his shoulder. He feels suddenly too imposing, large, and feels the urge to make himself smaller if only to appear less intimidating. 

“I...thank you, do you happen to see a pair of spectacles on the ground? My horse bucked me and I lost them...otherwise I would have handled the wolves myself but, i’m rather blind like this.” Arthur finally notices the way her hazel eyes don’t quite focus on him or her surroundings, when he speaks she can’t quite look him in the eye, but instead moves her gaze around as if trying to. Her squint is also more noticeable all of a sudden and he finds himself hastening to find her spectacles, looking across the ground careful to mind his step. 

“You probably shouldn’t go telling strange men that, ma’am, some might take advantage.” He doesn’t say it to be intimidating or the like, simply out of concern. She clearly couldn’t see well without them and a lesser man, someone like Micah, would surely take advantage. Her trust in him is refreshing but concerning at the same time. He, after all, does not consider himself to be a good man.

“Well, it’s a good thing that a gentleman like yourself happened by instead then, Mr…?” She knows he is concerned for her, she is sure like many men before he thinks her too naïve, too sweet, and perhaps he isn’t wrong on some of those counts. But, she preferred not to live life assuming the worst of everyone, even if people tended to prove that they were indeed rather rotten inside. The amount of strangers in need of help she’d stopped by only to be ambushed was rather alarming at times. But, she did pride herself on her own ability to look after herself, except when she found herself without her glasses. 

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan.” 

“Elizabeth McGill, a pleasure. Thank you, for stopping. I might have been up there for hours otherwise, until they got bored that is, but...I’ve known wolves to bide their time.” She pretends to help because really her running her hands along the grass isn’t doing much, she can’t see after all. 

“Uh, here, Miss McGill, your glasses.” He finds them a ways away from the tree, far enough that he knows she’d have never found them on her own. They’re round and surprisingly unbroken which he is oddly relieved to see for a man not at all invested in them. He passes them to her, watches them change the shape of her face, the clarity coming to her eyes as she blinks up at him with a soft smile. They suit her, feel like something she’s supposed to be wearing, not something that she has to wear. 

For the first time Elizabeth can see her saviour clearly and the man certainly impressed. He was tall, that she already knew even without her glasses, and he was broad, strong, the sort of man that could clearly lift a heavy weight, tackle a man to the ground or hold his own in a fist fight. Mr Morgan had a weathered, but handsome face, little freckles marked his skin, signs of spending time in the sun, his beard was long but neat, but most striking of all were his eyes. He had the most gentle bluish-green eyes she’d seen on a man of his size. 

“You gonna be okay? Your horse still around?” His brows pulled together in the middle out of concern and she found herself smiling at him without much thought. He had been kinder to her in the last 15 minutes than most people were. It warmed her heart just a little more. 

“He’ll be around,” She stops and whistles, sharp, and high. Clear as crystal, and waits a few beats before whistling again. This time Arthur can hear the sound of heavy hooves galloping forward and moves just in time to avoid a large palomino gypsy cob that comes careening out from behind some trees. The horse is lumbering and large as any draft horse is, white and cream dappled coat, dirty from his escape. His hindquarters are covered in pelts, more pelts than Arthur has ever seen, and it’s clear to him that this Miss McGill is a skilled hunter and, if not for her spectacle issue, would have been just fine on her own. It changes his opinion of her, shapes it from a naive, delicate woman, to someone more capable, though still seemingly sweet and lady-like. If possible his interest in her peaked further. 

She places her hands on her wide hips, scowling up at the horse, who’s nodding his head up and down at her in greeting with little nickering sounds, “Scrawny. I hope you know I’m terribly disappointed in you. Leaving me like that. I thought we agreed we were going to work on this wolf phobia of yours, or were you just conning me out of all those oatcakes?”

The horse huffs in a decidedly human way that makes Arthur grin, he doesn’t doubt the big thing had been making away with as many oatcakes as possible with absolutely no understanding or intention of facing a pack of wolves anytime soon.

“You’re lucky that kind Mr Morgan here was happy to help, what would you do if I was eaten by a ferocious pack of wolves?” The horse nickers and presses his large head against her, bumping into her hard enough for her to let out an ouph and take a few steps back. Her back hitting Arthur’s chest, he raised his hands to the tops of her arms to steady her before taking a polite step back, aware he could easily crowd her. 

“I was just doing what anyone would, Miss McGill.” She turns to raise an eyebrow at his words and he feels decidedly admonished before she���s even parted those red lips.

“I think we both know that’s not true, Mr Morgan. I’ve stopped to help enough people who’ve turned a gun on me to know that you are one of a small minority of good folk, whether you want to believe you are or not.” She watches him rub the back of his neck, worn hat tilting forward to hide half his face, but she can still see the beginning flush to his skin from the attention and the creeping little smile twisting at the corners of his mouth. It makes her smile in return, this large, imposing man, bashful at a little compliment like that. 

“What are you doing out here anyways, Miss?”

“I just came down from the mountains. I was visiting a friend who...well, she wasn’t there and her...her husband was dead.” There is a shaky pause, he can see her hand trembling slightly at the thought of her friend and her husband before she bunches it up in her skirt, “Did some hunting on the way down, figured I'd make my usual stop in Valentine to Ted, the butcher, usually gives me a fair price for the things I bring him.” 

Elizabeth can still see poor Jake’s face, cold, frozen solid in the back of a wagon. Some animals had gotten to him before he’d frozen completely and she’d spent a whole day just digging him a grave, hard work considering the ground was almost completely solid itself. But she couldn’t leave him like that and she knew he’d prefer being buried on his own property to burned or some such. She still had blisters on her palms from the digging, despite gloves the hard work had rubbed her hands raw. Made it a tad more difficult to hunt on the way down with her bow, but she’d managed. 

“What was your friend's name?”

“Mrs Adler, Sadie Adler. Used to do jobs for her and her husband when I visited...why?”

“Well, it’s a small world, Miss McGill.” He looks almost surprised at the name she’d thrown out, before smiling at her softly and elaborating, “Me and my friends, we found her oh about...3 weeks back? She was in a pretty bad state, but she’s been with us since. Awful business that with her husband, some O’Driscolls killed him.” Arthur looks apologetic and it soothes her distress to know that at least Sadie is safe, that at least despite all the bad luck in the world something had gone right for her. She hadn’t been found by someone else, someone who would hurt her and that was a small blessing in a world full of problems and bad people. 

“You and your friends?” It’s said with a raised eyebrow and all he can do is rub the back of his neck and look away from her. It doesn’t feel right to lie to her, when she clearly suspects his friends aren’t just his drinking buddies. But, he’s not entirely sure if he can trust her. She seems nice enough, but plenty of people seem nice enough till they find out you have a bounty on your head. Not that Elizabeth could take him in, he doubts given the sheer difference in size that she’d manage it on her own. But, he wouldn’t put it past her to try...if she were so inclined. To him she seems both gentle, delicate, and formidable, words that seem like they shouldn’t work together until you look at her. 

“Well…”

“Relax, Mr Morgan. I understand.” She does, she’s known enough ‘gangs’ of ‘outlaws’ to know that not all are as bad or dishonourable as they seem and that the need to protect their made family was great. She had her suspicions but if they had helped Sadie as Arthur had helped her then she had little doubt that they were the honourable sort of outlaw that she had little problem with. So long as innocent people weren’t getting hurt and the poor weren’t being robbed from she had few objections, even if she personally wasn’t comfortable with robbing or lying, herself. 

The world was a harsh place, few could support themselves on simple law abiding trades like hunting. She was lucky in that respect. One mouth to feed was different to 20. 

“Could I...I hesitate to ask, after all you’ve done for me, Mr Morgan...but could I see her? I...I can’t imagine what she’s going through and I’d like her to know Jake had a proper burial. I did rites and all. She deserves to know.” She twists her hands together, nervous of his answer. She could understand if he said no, he clearly needed to protect his gang and she was a stranger to him. But, she wanted to see her friend and most of all she wanted her friend to know that Jake wasn’t left out there to be eaten or for someone else to find. She’d even managed to gather some of Sadie’s things from the ranch in the end. Photos and trinkets that she’d hoped at the time to be able to give her if she was still alive. 

Arthur rubbed a large scarred hand across his beard, the hairs scratching at his skin as he looked at her. She was small in stature, soft in body, and those hazel eyes held honest intentions. Taking her back to camp wasn’t without risk, but a liar knew a liar when he saw one. She didn’t care about his gang, she wasn’t hunting them down for a fat bounty, she just wanted to see her friend and after everything Mrs Adler had been through he thought she might want to see her friend too. 

With a deep sigh and a quick thought that he hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake, Arthur pulled the black bandana from his back pocket. “I’d have to blindfold you, Miss...I gotta...I gotta protect them and I can’t be havin’ you know where we’re at. You understand?”

She could walk away, that was the offer. Be blindfolded by this stranger, this tall, broad, imposing figure or walk away. It was an easy decision to make. He was large and he was imposing, but the gentle way he held out the piece of cloth, the soft furrow to his brow, the way he hunched his shoulders to look smaller, all those things told her he was a good man. Not a pure man, not devoid of wrongdoing or bad deeds, but good in the sort of way that a man out here could be good. She would be safe with him. She could trust his intentions towards her. 

“I understand, Mr Morgan.” She consents taking the fabric from him, it is softer than she expects, “Before we go, I'd suggest we skin those wolves. Your camp needs food I'm sure and those pelts’ll fetch you a good bit of coin, waste not want not.”

“Are you sure?” She’s the hunter after all, or it seems that way and part of Arthur can’t help but feel like she’d have done just fine without him had her glasses not been knocked off. Maybe, she’d been wanting to hunt the four wolves in the first place. He doesn’t want to offend her by taking what she might see as hers, but she just gives him another one of those looks that reminds him of a prettier, younger, much more amicable Ms. Grimshaw. 

 “Mr Morgan, you shot them, they’re yours to plunder. I have enough bloody pelts as it is, Scrawny here would probably complain if he had a few more to carry, right boy?” As if in answer the big cob nods his head up and down with a huff, clearly used to be used as a pack horse. He’s not sure the horse really understands the question, but it’s clear he’s a responsive horse used to a talkative owner, not like Dave who’s stood quietly behind Arthur, only occasionally nudging him with his nose and nibbling at strands of his hair as if expecting a sugar cube to be there. 

“Well, if you’re sure…” She helps him skin them, while she hadn’t intended to do any skinning today and her blouse would certainly hate her for it, sharing the work would make it go quicker and she could offer a few tips as they went. Not much seeing as Mr Morgan was already a skilled hunter by the looks of things. The pelts were in fine condition, he was clearly a good shot, one rifle round to each wolf’s head, no mess, no unnecessary injuries or wasted ammunition. While they had wanted to kill her, she held a healthy respect for wolves and was glad that they didn’t die slowly. Quickly, cleanly, and humanely, something she held dear when it came to hunting. 

Elizabeth grabbed a ratty cloth from her saddlebag, using it and some water from a canteen to clean her arms, it was never smart to leave blood on you and it wasn’t particularly nice either. She offered both to Arthur who gladly did the same, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thick forearms being cleaned of blood. It was startling to her in that moment that she didn’t feel scared or worried at all. Here she was in the woods with a stranger, a broad, striking and clearly strong stranger, who had multiple guns, a hunting knife, and a bow all on hand. Yet, she didn’t feel a lick of apprehension or worry. 

“Who’s this beautiful boy then?” There was a split second when Arthur, despite himself, almost thought she was talking to him. That was clearly not the case when he looked up startled to see her approaching Dave. The large shire usually disliked others, but was only watching the woman cautiously, deciding whether to bite, kick, or con her out of some food. When Hosea had given him the large beast claiming he was hard to handle and that he’d be better off selling him, something in Arthur had understood. The horse was a bit like him, he was a bit world weary, cautious of others, afraid of getting hurt, but underneath it all a soft hearted thing. 

“...Dave.” He wished in that moment that he hadn’t allowed Jack to name the shire, he loved Dave. Had bonded well with him, but telling a pretty lady that your horse was named Dave rather than Boadicea was a might embarrassing especially when that horse was 17 hands high and capable of trampling wolves underfoot. 

“He’s beautiful.” She likes his name, not that she says that, but it’s clear from the flush to Arthur’s cheeks that he’s not confident in the name choice. She thinks it suits. The shire is beautiful, giant compared to her and larger than Scrawny who was an impressive 15 hands high, especially considering his breed. The Shire pawed at the ground as she got closer, but she hushed him, little quiet comments and soothing sounds, a hand pulling a sugar cube from a skirt pocket. 

There was always something special about getting a horse like that to trust you, to eat from your palm and accept the touch of your hand to their neck. Dave was clearly a distrusting animal, but he let her pat his neck and brush his forehead. He let her tie Scrawny’s reins to his saddlehorn knowing she couldn’t guide herself blindfolded. 

“He don’t usually take to people too well…”

“Well, he just needs a kind touch that’s all. Someone hurt him real bad and he just needs to know that won’t happen again, right, sweetheart?” She says to the horse in a gentle tone, low and quiet. Arthur feels as if she’s talking about him, he thinks on the times he’s been bitten, the way he’s drawn back from people and he understands a little bit more why he and Dave work so well together. They’re two sides of the same damn coin and this woman had a way with both of them already. 

She takes a few steps back, before turning and clambering up into her own saddle. Despite the sheer size of her own horse, she manages well enough to clamber on up even in a thick, heavy skirt. She settles herself, arranges her skirt and takes those delicate round spectacles off and pockets them before grabbing the fabric he’d given her. 

“You’ll make sure Scrawny doesn’t run into any trees?” 

“I got you, miss. Don’t you worry.” It’s with that that Elizabeth wraps the blindfold around her eyes and tightens it at the back of her head, hand holding onto the saddlehorn as they begin to move. 

Arthur cannot help but be a little bit in awe at the trust she has decided to place in him.

[specdracers]

𝐃𝐀𝐘: november 26, 2020 ( thanksgiving ) - november 27, 2020 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: evening - early morning 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: brooklyn, ny  𝐓𝐋 ; 𝐃𝐑: landon meets his mom for the first time and it goes really well! He almost cries but they’re good. she asks him to come back for christmas. ( and thankfully gets him a new phone because his is awful )

          landon takes a bus out of roseville to visit his mother for the first time up in new york.

          landon almost misses the bus out of roseville, too distracted by his peers and all the different stores in the small town. he can’t help but to wonder if he should bring some sort of gift to her house, considering it’s the first time they’re meeting and it’s a holiday. but he doesn’t. she’s under the impression that he’s a broke college student, which he is, just not the type that she thinks he is. so he steps onto the bus, showing the ticket to the driver a little breathlessly ( considering he just ran from the entrance ) before going towards the back of the bus. he’s been here before, on a bus to new york city, so it feels a little nostalgic for him even if it’s not for the same reason. 

         the bus is somewhat empty, and he guesses roseville doesn’t have too many people leaving it, so he’s able to prop himself up against the window with his legs stretched out. for a little bit, he opens up one of the textbooks he had brought to go over some of the content in his driving in harsh conditions course, but that doesn’t last long. the words aren’t making any sense to him, and the low hum of the bus on the interstate is too much for him, even with his headphones in. sighing, he closes the book and decides to just do things on his phone, and that’s until grey ends up texting him that he and his friend are in the room for a little bit before going out again. 

         for the majority of the rest of the trip, landon’s on the phone with him, and he tries to not dwell too much on the fact that he enjoys listening to grey’s accent far too much and it gives him butterflies. the older couple near him constantly give him looks when grey says something that makes him laugh a little too loudly, and landon’s always giving them a soundless sorry before going back to the conversation. but it’s not long until grey’s getting dragged out to do something else, and landon definitely can’t hide the sadness in his voice when it’s time for them to hang up ( but he still promises to send grey a text when he gets to his mom’s ). by the time they hang up, landon still has a little bit of a drive, so he brings out the textbook once again, trying his best to focus but it really just sits there on his lap while he spends time texting seb. 

         when he gets to new york, he texts addie ( saying his mom is still weird for him ). and she offers to have her driver meet him at the station, but he declines the offer. he’s spent too much time in new york, and he knows the way to get to her apartment easily. he finds that he misses the crowded streets, the street vendors yelling to advertise their food, and people bumping into him but continuing on their way. it’s refreshing, for him to be somewhere that he loved. not that he doesn’t like gallagher, but he’s just always felt better when he’s in the city. 

         it doesn’t take him long to reach addie’s apartment, and his first thought is that this can’t be right. it’s a nice apartment, one that his old friends in new york would have had him scope out to see. surely, this can’t be where his mother lives. the doorman clears his throat, getting landon’s attention. “can i help you with something?” 

         it shakes landon out of his daze, and landon nods his head. “yeah, i’m here to see my mom, sorry.” he offers the older gentleman a weak smile, and his voice comes out more nervous than he would have liked. it’s nerve wracking for him, considering this is his mom, and he never even thought it would get here. the doorman opens the door for him after his explanation, and as he walks in, landon adjusts his backpack as he walks through the lobby. it’s far too extravagant, unlike anywhere landon’s ever lived before. he remembers that the information noah gave him said that his mother had moved up in her company, but he wasn’t expecting this. 

         he presses the button to the floor that addie told him, and he takes a couple deep breaths as the elevator ascends. landon considers texting his friends, seb, maia, grey, anyone just so they can tell him to relax, but when he checks his phone, there’s no service in the elevator. he gulps as he watches the floor numbers continue to increase until he hears the beep indicating the elevator stopped. he stares at his blurry reflection in the elevator doors, and he considers what would happen if he just presses the first floor button. he says something came up at school and had to go back. his friend needed ... something, seb would probably cover for him. the possible escape plans are going through his head when the doors open, snapping him back to reality. his eyes close, and he decides to walk. one foot in front of the other, he tells himself mentally. you can do this. not to mention, he has no relationship with her. if things get bad, he really can just leave and go back to gallagher. he’s pretty sure he blacks out for a moment because when he looks up again, he sees the door with her apartment number shining in fancy silver numbers. 

         landon flexes his hand a couple of times, trying to gain the courage to knock on the door. with a deep sigh, he raises his hand and knocks on the door. 

         when the door opens, he’s met with an older man, and he assumes this must be his mother’s new husband. landon opens his mouth to say a greeting, or an apology if this has all been a joke and this isn’t the right apartment, when he hears from the back, “is that him, john?” he can hear the southern accent in her voice, and she sounds even nicer than she did on the phone. addie, his mother, comes around the corner, wiping her hands on a towel before slinging it over her shoulder. before landon, or this john, is able to say anything, addie walks up to him and instantly wraps her arms around him. 

         he stumbles backwards a little bit, the surprise of her hugging him causing him to lose his balance. “sorry, i probably should have asked before doing that,” addie says as she lets go, a nervous laugh coming from her. 

         landon shakes his head, and he can’t deny that even though it’s the first time he’s met her, it still felt nice to be able to hug his mother, and the words still don’t seem real. “no, no, it’s alright,” he tells her, a small smile on his own features. “i’m landon.” he knows she knows that already, both of them probably do, but he still feels like it’s something he should do. 

         john is the one that speaks next, hand outstretched for landon to shake. “and i’m jonathan, it’s nice to finally meet you.” 

         landon takes the other man’s hand and shakes it, nodding as a response. for someone usually so chatty and can strike up a conversation with anyone easily, landon’s speechless. 

          “here,” addie says, offering landon her own hand before she continues. “i’ll take your bag, and i’ll meet y’all at the table.” 

         landon nods, giving his mother a small smile again because it seems like he’s forgotten how to speak. he follows jonathan into the apartment, and he finds himself taking in all of the opulence of the apartment. jonathan sees this and comments as he’s having landon follow him into the dining room of the apartment, “your mom’s on her way up to become the cfo of the marketing firm here.” 

         the man’s voice catches landon by surprise once again, and his eyebrows raise because that’s pretty impressive; that’s his mom! “that sounds really cool,” landon says, and he hates how awkward he sounds talking to him. “what is it that you do?”

         the two make idle chit chat as addie puts landon’s bag away and once she reappears, she’s setting food down on the table. “i wasn’t sure about what you liked for thanksgiving, so i made just about everything,” addie tells him from across the table, setting down the last of the food for their meal. “you’re not vegan or anything, right?”

         the question makes landon laugh as jonathan begins to cut the turkey, and something about it seems like it’s a tradition for him to cut it. “no, not at all. everything looks great,” he tells her as jonathan begins to put pieces of turkey on his plate. and since he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast at gallagher, his stomach’s already grumbling at the sight and the smell of all the food. 

         throughout their meal, the three of them catch up. she describes what her job entails, jonathan talks about growing up out in california, and landon has to make up some lie about what his major is, saying that it’s business. when his mom lights up with something resembling pride, he wishes that it was actually business or something similar so he doesn’t have to lie to his mother. 

         at the end of the dinner, jonathan begins taking everyone’s dishes and cleaning up, another tradition or routine that landon believes is normal for them. addie and landon both thank him, and as soon as her plate is cleared, addie leans forward on the table, and landon thinks he knows where this is going. 

         “there’s nothing you need to apologize for,” he tells her before she’s even able to say a word, and the surprise is written all over her features. he, of course, knows how old she and matthew were when she got pregnant with him, and while he used to be angry at his parents for abandoning him, now he’s definitely moved towards understanding why they had to do what was best for all three of them. “i turned out just fine, so don’t worry about it.” yeah, he definitely has a little bit of baggage because of some of his experiences, but he doesn’t blame either of them anymore. 

         he can tell that addie lets out a long breath, making it seem like she was finally able to let go of one that she’s been holding for years⎯⎯ twenty-three to be exact. even from across the table, he sees her brown eyes begin to water as she nods. “i just wanted what was best for you.” her voice is small and it tugs on landon’s heartstrings, and he gets up from where he’s sitting and going over to her, wrapping his arms around her this time. 

         “and i got it, and we both seem happy, and that’s all we could ask for, right?” he says into her hair, and dammit he’s feeling his own eyes start to burn with tears that he blinks away. 

         he feels addie nod her head once more, squeezing her son as a way to make sure that he’s real and he’s here in front of her. she lets go, wiping her tears from her cheeks before letting out a shaky laugh. “damn, i really didn’t want to cry today,” she clears her throat, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin from the table. she looks up at him, offering him a small smile. “but i’m proud of you. you seem like you’ve made good choices and have a plan, and that’s all a mother could ask for.”

         he gives her a small smile because he doesn’t recall the last time someone’s ever said they were proud of him, and it makes him almost start to cry but he’s able to blink them away. he’s about to respond when jonathan comes from around the corner ( and landon thinks he stayed away on purpose now ). he tells them that there is something that needs to be done at his office, and that he has to leave unfortunately, but he tells landon he’s more than welcome to come back to visit them anytime. after giving addie a kiss on the head goodbye and landon another handshake, jonathan’s out of the apartment. 

         once he’s gone, addie asks landon about school, his classes, friends, and if there’s a special girl or anything. the last one makes him smile, shaking his head. “um, not a girl,” he begins because it’s always scary to come out to people at first but especially the mother you just met. “his name’s grey and i don’t think anything will come from it, but...” landon trails off with a shrug, but he’s reaching for his phone to show her pictures of all his friends-- seb and him in manchester, alex and landon after finding out they were actually married in berlin, and then she asks for a picture of grey. and he realizes that he doesn’t actually have any pictures of grey ( give him a break, he didn’t even officially ask for his number until a few days ago! ) so he pulls up his tinder account shamelessly, and he kinda goes on a rant about grey and how much time they’ve been spending together and he realizes that this is probably a lot more than friendship so far. 

         following him talk about grey and his other friends, the two stay up for hours on end talking about everything but also nothing at the same time. he realizes that there wasn’t even an awkward stage between the two of them, and he wonders if addie has this effect on everyone or if it’s just him having desperately wanted someone like addie in his life. it’s when jonathan comes home at almost midnight when they figure they should all go to sleep considering addie and jonathan both have to go to work tomorrow. 

         addie walks him to his room, explaining that he’s more than welcome to use anything he wants. and it’s different for him, since he can’t remember the last time he’s had his own room. he never had one growing up, and even though he had an apartment to himself, it’s different when it’s in someone else’s home and they tell him it’s his. he mutters a thanks taking in all of the different aspects of the room ( and he’s sure it’s just their guest room, but still! ) “just let me know if you need anything, alright,” she tells him before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. the gesture shouldn’t bring tears to his eyes as he says good night and she closes the door, but it does! he’s realizing that his mother is probably one of the sweetest people he’s ever met, and he can’t help but to think how lucky he is to have been able to meet her. 

         early in the morning, landon wakes up to the smell of pancakes and bacon, and he stretches in the bed which is considerably larger than his dorm bed or any other bed he’s ever had. after brushing his teeth and getting ready for the day and to head back to gallagher, he walks out of his room to go into the dining room where addie’s bringing the food to the table again. “good morning, how’d you sleep?” and normally, he wouldn’t want to talk to someone so early in the day before waking up, but there’s something about addie’s energy that helps him wake up instantly. he tells her that he slept really good, better than anything a dorm could provide when jonathan walks in, dressed in a suit and tie before sitting across from him. as the three of them begin to eat breakfast, they all make small talk, and landon finds out more about jonathan’s and addie’s work, and he does find it interesting.

         jonathan checks his watch before looking up at addie who gives him a small nod. his brows furrow together at the exchange, and he’s about to ask a question about it when addie begins to smile and holds up a gift bag for landon. “here, christmas came a little early for you,” she says, offering landon to take it. 

         confused, landon takes it, opening it to find the most recent iphone inside. he shakes his head once he realizes this isn’t a prank and the box is actually empty, “thank you, but there’s no way i can take this. this was way too expensive.” but if their apartment has anything to show for it, the two of them aren’t hurting for any type of money. 

         jonathan and addie both shake their heads, and addie reaches out for landon’s free hand. “don’t worry, landon.” she tells him, her smile so bright and warm he wishes he could have known it sooner. “it’s our gift to you. i’m sure you’re doing great in school and you definitely deserve it... plus, i saw how awfully cracked your screen was. honey, it was time for a new one anyways.” the last comment makes all three of them laugh and even though landon still doesn’t want to take it, he knows better than to argue with his mother already. 

         “thank you. for this, and everything.” landon figures they aren’t wanting a thank you, but he feels so grateful that they were willing to open up their home to him with barely even more than one phone call. 

         the three of them carry on eating breakfast before it’s time for both jonathan and addie to get to the office. landon’s already packed his bag, so he helps them bring the dishes into the kitchen before heading towards the door. both of them say their goodbyes to him and hug him and before he leaves, addie says one more thing. “and in case you need somewhere to go for christmas, know that you’re always welcome here.”