starry eyed wanderer .

Archibald "Archie" Maycroft. 35. Lost & Found. CEO of Maycroft Imports.

[daedeimos]

cassiebennett​:

-

Cassie can’t lie there’s a moment where she forgets that Archie is stood beside her, that it was Archie who told her to scream her fears and failures into the city. She can’t lie there’s a relief that feels her as her shoulders shake and she allows herself to be vulnerable. A relief that all of that weight is no longer hers alone to bare, relief that a city this size is able to hear her screams and swallow them whole, as if they were so small that they never actually deserved to eat away a part of her. 

She’s so lost in the moment that she nearly jumps the instant Archie’s hands are placed reassuringly on her shoulders. She relaxes into the touch, it’s exactly what she needs in the moment. She allows him to pull her into his side and is beyond grateful when instead of wanting to talk about the tings she had yelled he acts as if he hadn’t been stood next to her the entire time. He instead simply suggests that it is time for the cheese fries that she had spoken of earlier. She can’t help but let out a small chuckle, a genuine one, something that hadn’t been available in a while to her. 

She allows him to to lead the way, allowing him to support most of her weight as she leans into him. Archie had become like a brother to her. The way he was with her was much like the way Jenny was although he was more likely to allow her to make her mistakes and help her back from it whereas Jenny did her best to prevent those things from ever reaching her sister. 

Cassie doesn’t even realize that there are still tears falling as Archie leads the way to some half assed diner that would be open this late to get her those cheese fries until he’s reassuring, ruffling her hair as she chuckles. Usually she would hate that, it would make her feel young and childish but in this moment it was reassuring. 

“Who needs therapy when you’ve got the city.” She chuckled lightly looking up at him “Thank you.” She said to him lowly “I don’t know how but that defiantly lifted a weight off of me.” She informs him “I feel like I can actually breath again after months.” She admitted with a shake of his head. 

-

It’d be a lie if he didn’t admit that he understood her. Listening to her howl and scream and cry and let the city take it all there’s a quiet ache of understanding. Of course he’d been younger. He’d been mourning and he had been self-destructive in the worst ways before he found new traditions. Sure therapy worked, he’d done it for years, but there was something no hour long session could do quite like the echo of the city. Maybe one day he’d tell her about it, bare a part of himself to comfort her.

For now he lets her lean heavy into his side and doesn’t complain in the slightest. Archie can’t help but be reminded of his own sister before she’d grown to be a person that no longer welcomed his support. It hadn’t been all that long ago that she had come to him often venting and talking about the day and how utterly frustrating it had all been while he braided her hair back. Silly to mourn such a little thing he muses, watching Cassie as he leads the way slowly towards the diner.

Better to let her compose herself.

Archie grins a little, a small laugh slipping free, “Yeah, the city is a lot of things but at least she’s a good listener.” Slowing to a stop in front of the beat up rail and the old concrete ramp headed inside some hole in the wall diner, he’s happy to wait for her to catch her breath so to speak. Standing under the blinking neons of ‘Mel’s Diner - 24/7 - Good Eats!’ she tells him thank you and Archie shakes his head. Reaching up, he’s careful wiping her tears away and letting her talk.

“Sometimes you don’t need to put things into words,” he says gently, “you just have to let it out.” Like he’d said, Archie was going to baptize her in traditions he’d learned through hard lessons and harder times. Back when he thought he could escape his family name. Back before he loved a boy so fiercely it nearly ruined his life. Back before his secrets grew and who he was changed on any given day.

Tonight he could be just Archie and it was enough.

“Cmon, hopefully Angie is working tonight. She always makes sure you get bacon on your fries if you want ‘em.” Winking, he’s gathering her up under his arm if only to usher her up the ramp and towards the gaudy door that looked like a throw back to the fifties itself. Stepping inside, Archie is shifting his backpack a bit and giving a half wave towards the waitress with the beehive updo. It’s as chaotic as ever from floor to ceiling, trinkets and posters and even playing cards decorating every inch where the checkerboard floor and teal vinyl seats don’t cover.

“Now Little May I know you ain’t sneaking by without saying hello.”

The voice catches his attention and steady hands snare him, Archie laughs and lets himself get pulled away into a tight hug. It ought to be comical really seeing a little old african-american lady scarcely tall enough to see over his shoulders holding him in a bear hug. “You’re the only one that still calls me that Angie,” he hums into her shoulder letting her fuss over his shirt and scowl at the sight of his bandaged hands. Of course she’s turning her attention to Cassie easy enough and is quick to smile. “Well go on, mind your manners and introduce us.”

Archie turns to Cassie then, motioning towards the woman next to him with a crooked sort of smile. “Angie this is Cassie, Cassie this is the local legend Angela Russett.”

[daedeimos]

fashionistamaisyackerman​:

LOCATION: Central Park WHO: Open

The pencil between her teeth shifted as she erased something in her journal. An idea had struck her in the middle of her walk through the park and she absolutely had to jot it down before she forgot. Ohh – and she just got a new piece from the thrift shop down the street that would work wonderfully with the dress pattern she had in mind. 

Maisy replaced the pencil with her pink eraser, eyes burrowing in concentration. The woman didn’t bother looking were she was going as she drew and next thing she knew her journal was on the ground and she was steadying herself on the person in front of her.       “Oh my goodness, I am - I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

-

He’d been on his lunch break, coffee luckily not in hand, and only half paying attention to where he was going. Apparently his sister was interested in a bidding war for the property down by the docks and Archie had half a mind to show up at her office just to ask if it was personal now. Of course it’s only when he’s finished drafting up an email with a counter proposal that fate sees fit to have a petite figure all but crashing into him as he rounds the bushes.

Habit has him reaching out, bracing her with an arm curled around the girl’s back. Sliding his phone into his pocket, Archie is quick to wave off the apology as he’s almost certain she was hurt more than him. Kneeling down, he’s brushing the dirt off the journal and giving the sketch a thoughtful once over. Easy enough to rise to his feet, offering her journal back with a small smile. “You’re pretty talented, better to keep your head out of the clouds while walking through the city though.”

[daedeimos]

Coming to Wiseguise was more to indulge his friend and to have a cover if anyone asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the stand-up act, it was just difficult to pay close attention when he was preoccupied with watching the man’s hands at his side. Laughter rings out and he sips his martini while those familiar hands continue to sign in the hazy half lit room. A small smile quirks his lips and he shakes his head.

‘Be back. Bad habit time,’ he sign, watching the other man roll his eyes and nod. Archie leaves his drink on the pathetically small table and slips out without the comedian on stage catching wind. It’s brisk out tonight and almost soothing really given the headache of the past few days. Tapping his cigarette against the heel of his palm thoughtfully, he’s lighting the cigarette hanging between his lips and tipping his head back against the brick with a sigh.

It’s only when the door opens a bit, he spares a glance towards the person that’s decided to take a breather too. “I wouldn’t say it’s a dud, but those jokes - oof - they could land a bit better huh?”

[daedeimos]

I feel like King Arthur, nobody is stronger Feather on a string and then I shoot 'em like an archer I feel like a martyr, she suck me through my armor If you step into my castle beggin' for your life, I never barter

You can try if you like, find your head on a spike 'Cause I know you'll look good on my wall No, I'll never ever fall I'ma dye your hair red with the blood when you're dead 'Cause my sword is the biggest of all No, I'll never ever fall

[daedeimos]

- @younghoax

Saying there was a lot on his mind would be the understatement of the century. It isn’t often he craves a fight, he’s not that reckless and yet - there’s a hand on his arm and a stern look. Moving means cold steel and ebony wood presses to the hollow of his throat when the man twists the can just right and spares a warning glance.

Don’t do it.

There were easier ways to work the aggression and tension in his veins, simpler ways. So it’s becoming more frequent he slips out to the parking structure long since abandoned. Of course it is, he owns it and leaves it barren for this selfish reason. But no one here knows it, not even Rowan when he shows his face with a twisted little grin hanging off the arm of his latest pride and joy. There’s a lot on his mind when Rowan makes a show of acting sweet to the guy, kissing his cheek and holding his ratty ass sweater when the guy steps into the ramshackled ring of sorts made of old fences and whatever else was left behind. Archie wonders for a moment what Jordan would think of him if he saw him now. Would he hate him for wanting to rip apart the meathead in front of him just to see if Rowan hurt? Spitting on the dirty concrete, he’s meticulous in wrapping his hands. It never helps, not enough to hide the bruises. Sometimes he just doesn’t know when to stop punching.

“The fuck kinda name is Ares.”

The bookie’s voice draws him out of his thoughts enough for him to finish wrapping up, ripping the tape with his teeth and rising to his feet. “It’s one my family gave me,” he replies easy enough but he’s only got eyes for six foot fuckin six glaring at him across the way with Rowan whispering in the prick’s ear. “Tch, whatever kid,” the bookie says with a wave of his hand, “you’re on after this fight ends.” And it’s fine really cause he’s grown used to being the lone wolf with no one in his corner.

But he sees green eyes and is surprised.

Archie expected Jordan to laugh it off when he’d told him where he was going tonight. All it’d been was a short voicemail and an ocean of trust. He nearly rises to meet him, just to touch him. But he remembers Rowan and the giant he’s lured under his sway. Somehow it makes him even more furious. Head bowed, he doesn’t have to look up to know who it is that’s taken a seat on the makeshift bench.

“You aren’t here to try and stop me are you?”

[daedeimos]

peter-donnelly​:

Any time Peter could get out of the office before night had fallen was a good time in his books, and today definitely counted for it. Extra time meant he could try to get the bulk of his Christmas shopping taken care of, so he headed to a shopping plaza in the area. Unlike others in his family, Peter preferred to get gifts himself rather than have an assistant simply pick things out for him to save him the trouble. It was the personal touch he enjoyed, and hoped that those he gave gifts to realized that they actually came from the man himself. Growing up, it was patently obvious each Christmas morning that Jackson was just as surprised as he was with every gift opened… and not because they came from Santa or even from his mother, it was because the secretary or assistant he’d tasked with doing such tasks hadn’t filled him in on it beforehand either.

Walking through the mall slowly, taking in the decorations and lighting and displays, he stopped to pause at the majestic tree set up in the center court of the mall and the grand display. Weaving in and around it was the long line of kids waiting to get a few moments with Santa Claus. Peter’s enjoyment of the season made him a little late to realize that somebody had approached him at first, until he was stirred out of his reverie by their voice.

-

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Though he’d almost been reluctant to speak up when he’d noticed Peter at first. Something about to look in his eyes made him apprehensive to break whatever spell fell over the man. It reminded him a lot of child-like wonder and awe, something rare and fleeting. Part of him wishes he could remember the feeling. Tinsel and ornaments are nearly dripping off every inch of the plaza. There’s the scent of something vaguely gingerbread and peppermint wafting from god knows where and Archie finds himself more taken by the look in his friend’s eyes.

It was honest and vulnerable.

Maybe that’s why he had to speak up. Peter’s expression made him feel a bit voyeuristic just looking at him even for a fleeting moment. Smiling, Archie steps a bit closer until they’re side by side staring up at the massive tree dwarfing them both. Millions and millions of twinkling lights seem to blend with the sky and gleam off the ornaments big as his head. A low whistle slips free and he’s leaning in to tease quietly, “I hear they have to use a crane just to get the star on right.” Giving Peter’s elbow a nudge of his own, Archie nods back towards the line of shops and the topiaries all lit up down the plaza sidewalks.

“Keep me company won’t you?”

[daedeimos]

beckettcarter​:

smoking was a nasty habit picked up during his time in the service, and one that he didn’t like that he had. he particularly loathed the addiction to nicotine times like these; when the late night craving for a smoke hit and he found himself shuffling out into the cold in his sweats. Beck never smoked inside; not only did it make the furniture and drapery reek, but it wasn’t his kids’ habit; he kept his cigarettes far away from the two munchkins.

leaning against the wall of his apartment building, his hands were frozen as he fumbles in the pockets for his smokes, ocean eyes flickering about the sidewalk. he liked to people watch, he couldn’t help it. especially at night, when everyone seemed ten times more interesting.

it was only after he’d gotten the stick clenched between his lips, that he realized his fingers were grabbing at air where his lighter should’ve been. dammit, he must’ve left it inside. he sighs, glances back at his building, where he would have to climb the steps, creep inside without waking the kiddos, retrieve the lighter, sneak back out without waking them, come all the way back outside…

the very thought exhausted him.

instead, he waits until a friendly face on the sidewalk seems approachable, and clears his throat, “Sorry, got a light? I think I left mine inside.”

-

“It’ll kill you one day so I’m told.”

But it’d be hypocritical to stop him. There’s a lighter held out even as he speaks, his gaze lingering on the figure walking by them. This late, the soft tap tap tap of the man’s cane nearly echoes and Archie can count heartbeats to the steps. Few people were out this early or this late. But everyone had their vices and he was far from one to judge.

A small smile lingers on a busted lip, a cut at his cheek and bruised bandaged knuckles rummage around the pockets of his jacket a moment. Sure he could tell the guy off for it but was he any better chasing his relief at the end of a fist? Archie finds his own pack half crushed and half forgotten. No need for it when he has adrenaline and a warm bed waiting for him back at him. But tonight he could indulge.

Tapping the pack against the heel of his palm, he spares a glance over the building they’re lurking outside. Anyone with eyes could put two and two together and guess the guy lived here. Archie takes his lighter pack and balances a cigarette between his lips with a hum. “Nice night ain’t it?”

[daedeimos]

younghoax​:

He shakes his head. “Don’t hate you – or her.” Archie isn’t stupid though, and he knows it goes without saying. He’s claimed to hate her enough times for the words to lose their meaning and she’d done the same in return. He loved her though - wishes he didn’t like he wishes he never loved most people he did and like he swears he never will again. A waste of fucking time. “You’d’ve hated her, though.” Curly did. Spencer, too. And Jeff and dean even if Dean never admitted it.

His mom taught him everything she knew, but he’s learnt more since then. Enough to know he needs to dig himself outa the mess she started, but not enough to know how yet. Talking about her is a start, though and something he rarely did even when she was alive. Maybe once he’s let her go he can let the rest of it slip, too.

“You ought to be careful, y’know,” Jordan says in an attempt to lighten the mood, but his voice remains hushed and level. Tired. “Can never seem to break away from a bad thing unless they die or disappear on me. Call me stubborn. So you either have to stay good or run whilst you can.”

Maybe it’s because he’s so damn vulnerable here, or because Archie’s kindness, like Dan’s, just doesn’t make a lick of sense to him, but the last time he felt like this was outside a gas station in New Haven, his mom inside buying cheap food and water whilst he leant against the car beside Danny, bloody and bruised with a fucked up rib. It was a dumb fucking crush he never quite admitted to having mixed with miles of gratitude that stretched from Manhattan to Brockton and back again. “When I swore I’d take care of you, it wasn’t for Coney. You’re–” Jordan kissed him like a fucking idiot and coulda ended up with his ass in the dirt but instead got worse. This sad smile and a shake of Dan’s head as the palm on Jordan’s chest nudged him back a step.

“Not gonna kiss you,” he warns Archie now, although his nose is brushing his cheek and his fingers are tangled up in his shirt. Jordan realises that the warning sounds harsh though, gives a small shrug that Archie wouldn’t see without a view of their reflection over his shoulder; Jordan’s matted hair and knotted shoulders, stiff like he’s trying harder than he should need to to stay put. “I’m shitty at saying thank you.” Shitty at explaining himself too, but mostly relies on Arch putting the two claims together.

The mirror is cold against his back when he finally leans away, defeated as his shoulders loosen and drop and his hands hang in his lap between parted legs. “Can I sleep here?” What he means is can we move on now and pretend this didn’t happen? “Ain’t slept yet.”

“No,” he says quietly, “I would’ve probably loved her too. Pitied her even.”

Because Jordan’s mother reminds him so much of his own. Because in a way they both lived in unkind worlds their mothers had done very little to prepare them to survive. Because even though he knew now the extent of pain and harm she had caused a part of him would always love and mourn her. Archie hated her these days as much as he loved her, perhaps moreso. But he’d buried her years ago, done the therapy, and found some kind of outlet for the grief when it welled up.

The scars were proof of how reckless he’d been.

Jordan is talking, soft and so damn tired, that he can’t help but smile a little at the feeble humor. “You so sure I was good to begin with? Careful, I might just believe you.” Cheek to cheek, it’s easy to just curl his hand around his nape, fingers carding into blonde hair and. It’s always been so damn easy just to breathe when it came to Jordan and not feel the weight of the world for a little bit. Archie wonders how many times people have pushed the other man away instead of just holding him and bracing him up a bit. It breaks his heart a little.

Maybe it’s the same reason he feels that warm little blossom of dangerous affection when Jordan talks. Not gonna kiss you. He feels wound tight, a feral creature wounded and ready to pounce. “Good.” Rubbing idly along Jordan’s neck because his hands are restless and all he can think about is trying to soothe those muscles by rubbing them slow. “I’d hate to think you wanted to kiss me only when you’re saying thank you. Be kind of shitty don’t you think.” But he gets it and when they part slow, his hand drops to Jordan’s thigh instead.

“Sleep, heal, whatever you need, you’re always welcome here. I gave you a key for a reason.” Archie smiles briefly even as he eases back from Jordan just to turn the shower on. His hands wind up back on Jordan’s thighs and he claims the space between his knees easily. “First shower, the rest can come after.” Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to Jordan’s forehead before meeting those tired green eyes. “Not gonna kiss you until you ask me to, Lamb. Now cmon.” Stepping back, Archie gives him space to undress and head into the shower. Leaning against the wall, those blue eyes linger and his voice is soft albeit playful. “If you ask nicely I’ll even wash your back.”

[daedeimos]

jeremiahlodge​:

𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔬𝔶~

Jer’s used to early mornings. He’s always been one to rise early when possible – some days, you just can’t avoid sleeping in. But today is not one of those days, and he’s getting coffee and a cinnamon bun from one of those nice little carts, and, well, things are going alright. Until the man drops his money and Jer has to run to catch him.

He grins, holding onto his coffee and the money in one hand, his breakfast in the other. “Of course I did… I wasn’t just going to keep it.” He says, breathlessly, shifting from one foot to the other as he readjusts, balancing the coffee and cinnamon bun in one crooked arm as he holds out the bill. “So, here ya go! Sorry if I slowed your morning.”

-

It reminds him of early mornings before Isiah’s accident. They’d stand on the curb waiting for the rest of their friends and he’d hide his flush when his hair would get ruffled with a Relax idiot, it’s too early to get stressed. Archie tilts his head to give him an appraising sort of look. He looks like a college student. Messy. Rushing. But startlingly polite and honest. “Really?” There’s quiet amusement as he considers the bill being offered.

Reaching out, all he does is catch the other’s wrist and smooth his fingers up to close the outstretched hand around the bill.

“I didn’t have anything planned so no apology is needed.” Archie smiles further, letting his hand fall away. “How about this,” he continues, pausing only to take a sip of his coffee. “I’ve a wager for you. It’s simple really.” He gestures instead towards the distant campus, where he assumes the guy is headed. “I have a feeling we’re headed the same way so walk with me, tell me a story, and if it’s good you can keep that hundred.”

A small smile is hidden behind his coffee as he takes a sip.

“Fair trade don’t you think?”

[daedeimos]

outoflineinc​:

location: out of line inc, mid-day

         Samual’s packing up. The initial workshop went pretty well, he thought. He’s got some time before the shop opens to make sure that he’s all picked up and that anybody that has additional questions about tattooing has a little one on one time. Learning in a group can be difficult. And tall they did this time was start learning about the gun and art appreciation.            Sam pushes one of the tables back to where it belongs before he notices that someone hung back. He shot them a warm, amicable smile. “Hey, man! Thanks for comin’.” He’d probably be charging a little more when they break the inks and such out. But this time it was quick. And Samual’s pretty sure that he’s ignited the love in at least a few young people.          “What’s up?” 

-

It had purely been curiosity. Well, that and reasons that Samual doesn’t need to know. Archie is near the back wearing jeans and one of the hoodies that was smattered with bleach or old paint. He knows he doesn’t look like himself and maybe that was the point. He hadn’t told the blond he’d texted minutes before walking in the shop.

> text: lamb ჻ running late tonight, take out? my treat

A little white lie because he was curious and his eyes had lingered overlong on the darkened walls of one of the tattoo rooms. Maybe it was that same curiosity that gave him away now. “Ah.” Archie hadn’t thought he’d be one of the last people to leave but it seems he’s caught in his admiration of familiar art on the dark walls.

“Samual right? We met at the art gallery a while back.”

So maybe it was more than just curiosity because he knew more about Samual Castilla and Out of Line Inc now than he did the night they’d first met. It helped his partner was so damn thorough but it also raised concerns. Stepping closer, there’s a friendly smile offered and he motions around the building. He knows the employees, the floor plan, and even the mounting wave of debt threatening to drown the man.

He knows this is where his cousin has been hiding.

“Great class,” Archie says with a grin, offering a friendly hand. “I really learned a lot.”

[daedeimos]

brodylevime​:

open to anyone friday, november 26th just about any shopping center that sells seasonal decor

            Brody’s squinting at a very sad blue endcap. The endcap itself is not organized at all. Nothing is next to it’s labels, strewn about and thoroughly picked through instead. He’s got his hands on his hips, glasses pushed all the way up, and he’s looking between two menorahs. Neither of them are standing upright, and instead laying sideways amidst a small assortment of Hanukkah themed decorations.              “I guess this is why you’re not supposed to wait to the last minute…”                This is the third shop today that Brody’s been into. He hadn’t really thought that finding a menorah that spoke to him for the holiday was going to be this big of a task or he might have tried to leave the morgue a little early. He rubs at one of his eyes, fingers pushing his glasses up to get at it. At home he’s got all the fixing for the classic dishes his mom makes for Hanukkah and he’s looking for an excuse to not go home to see them by saying he’s celebrating at his own home like he had for the last twenty years.              “Neither of these speak to me.” Which was the problem. They didn’t fit his aesthetic. Brody frowns. “You decide.” Between the faux gold leafy menorah and the plain silver. So he doesn’t have to. 

-

To be fair, Archie hadn’t meant to save his holiday shopping for so late. Of course he’d overlooked Thanksgiving and aside from a small meal, well, now he was debating how Christmas was going to pan out. Family and tradition called for parties and charity events well into March but for once he felt inclined to take this year to do something for himself. Which meant something small, something private. Something other than tinsel and flashing lights.

Suggesting Saturnalia to Jordan had been the first time he’d actually looked forward to the holidays.

Which left him here, looking over crunched up wreaths and boxes touting fake evergreens while pushing a cart wobbling a bit as he walked. Nothing really seemed to fit and more and more he was settling on his first suggestion of a massive live tree from the corner lot that’s all but overflowing with them. Archie is circling around to consider the gaudy ornaments when really he’s looking for tea lights they can tie to the branches.

Neither of these speak to me. Huh? Pausing, he’s glancing over to consider the guy that looks like he’s been running three days on two hours of sleep. A quick look around and no, it doesn’t really seem like the guy is talking to anyone. Maybe himself? Or -

“Me?”

An amused glance is spared for the two options. “You sure you want something so intimate decided on by a stranger?”

[daedeimos]

jeremiahlodge​:

location: food truck/cart time: sunday, lunchtime

His morning study group had lasted longer than he’d expected – going until almost noon, and he was left regretting his decision to forego breakfast. His stomach led him to the nearest, quickest foot establishment for a fast, hot bite, and he’d only just paid for his order when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A 100$ bill, folded and just barely stuck under the wheel of the cart. His gaze lifted and he watched the person who had been in front of him walk away, none the wiser. It must be theirs, he rationalized, and stooped to pick up the bill before rushing after them.

“Hey! Wait! You dropped something!”

-

Coffee before his meetings is a rare luxury but one he’s insisting upon if it means he has to get up long before the sun rises. Of course, his mind is back home, on warm skin and blonde hair between his fingers. Archie smiles to himself a bit as he remembers the soft quiet grumble when he’d leaned forward and kissed a warm shoulder in silent farewell for the day. Looking up, he’s offering a polite smile to the food truck vendor and ordering a coffee and apple. It’s a bit of a fumble finding a twenty and offering it up, thanking the old lady that hands him his change. Dropping a five in the tip jar, he’s pocketing his wallet and sliding the apple into his coat pocket.

Pulling out his phone, he’s half through texting a playful reminder to the feral creature no doubt still sleeping in his bed. Something about breakfast in the fridge and reminding him that toast didn’t count.

Hey! Wait!

Looking up from his phone, Archie turns on his heel to regard the flustered looking kid rushing up to him. An amused smile nearly surfaces and he leaves the text left unsent in favor of messaging his assistant informing Tanis he’d be a little delayed. No doubt she’d sigh at him and shake her head only to find him in the streets later to knock some sense into his head. Pocketing his phone, Archie takes a sip of his coffee and gives the kid some time to catch his breath before looking down at what he was offering.

“And...you ran all this way just to give it to me?”

[daedeimos]

cassiebennett​:

-

Cassie smiled when Archie didn’t question or discourage her want of cheese fries.

She couldn’t think of a time that she had felt this way in the streets of New York City. Usually when she wandered these streets it was hurriedly from Othello and back to her and Jenny’s apartment on most occasions. Definitely had never shouted her feelings and fears into the cold night air. 

Her thoughts of what Archie had been doing before their paths intercepted no longer taking up any space in her mind. She had many memories in the city, none of them quite similar to this one. Usually it was the late night breakfast for dinner dates with Jenny. Jordan silently climbing through her window after being out doing god knew what. Sharing an ungodly concoction with Spencer during a night out. Exploring the beauties that New York had to offer with Arthur… now she could add screaming into the cold night sky of the city with Archie who stood beside her without any form of judgment and instead encouragement.

This time when she shouted she didn’t shout words, instead taking a page from Archie’s book and allowing a sound that she had never heard from herself before this moment escape her lips into the night air. Archie’s hand in her own was comforting, almost an encouragement to let out any and all feelings that she was holding inside. For the first time ever she didn’t care what the people of New York thought about her. She didn’t care if she had woken up an infant or someone who had to be at work in an hour. She allowed herself to scream, everything that she had pent up in the last few months escaping her. 

She had so much pressure on her that she hadn’t even noticed. The fact that she had buried herself in loads of work the past few months to hide from the feelings that she was now letting go of was a bit overwhelming. The fact that she had felt stupid for taking those pills at Billy’s party. Figuring it would be best for everyone if she stopped coming around instead of burdening those she loved with her presence. The fact that although she preferred her job at Othello to her dead end retail job back in Kentucky she couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing with her life. The fact that she was more homesick than she would ever let on to her parents or Jenny but at the same time couldn’t envision herself anywhere other than the city.

To put it blatantly she was a mess and for the first time in her life she was exposing that to someone other than Jenny. 

Cassie hadn’t even noticed the stray tear that had slipped from her eye and ran down her cheek as the weight of everything she had been holding in finally felt like it was lifting off of her shoulders.

-

Everyone had a history with these streets for better or worse. People lost everything here. Lives were ruined in an instant, fortunes made, and always always the city was here with a million ghosts in the foundation bearing witness to it all. Archie believed some nights the city had a heartbeat, a gasping breath, you just had to listen carefully in the quiet. So shouting your words? Howling your feelings? How was that anything less than sending it out there into the veins of the city for it to devour in the silence. Cassie cries out, howling words he scarcely understands much less hears and it doesn’t matter.

It’s between her and the streets.

It was more than just yelling for the sake of feeling better or ridiculous and Archie can see it, that precarious moment when Cassie seems to get it. She screams, she shouts, and he stands there listening to the heartbeat of the city thump alive in response with a wild cacophony of barking dogs, distant shouts, and the ever present thunder of honks and car engines. Archie doesn’t judge, how could he? He’s bled, cried, howled, fallen apart, and committed atrocities on these streets.

Holding her shoulder gently, there’s a small squeeze given.

“Hey,” he says with a crooked little smile, “let’s go get those cheese fries yeah?” Pride is easy, she caught on quick and he’s never really tried this with anyone that wasn’t Betrice. Archie had held his sister upright and let her sob and howl and cry because what was there that a city couldn’t shoulder? So Archie pulls her against his side, a steadying arm wrapped around her.

“It’s okay to cry.”

Fingers ruffle her hair gently.

“I’ve always felt like a raw nerve afterwards too.”

[daedeimos]

spencerquinnofficial​:

@daedeimos

Seeing his brother’s face after he read the first sample of his book was… Spencer never wants to be the reason for somebody to look so distraught ever again. It was damn cruel of him; every monster that crept in every shadow of his past, known only by him, hidden from the rest of the world, is in that book. Spencer wrote about every clawed hand that touched him, every smirked mouth that kissed him. The demons he never talked about out loud – or, when he did, he’d disguise as angels. And then he released the first chapter without so much as a warning to his friends, his family, about the hard truths it contains. What’s worse is that he knew it’d be painful for them, and he did it anyway because back then, when it was all happening, he felt so misunderstood, so victimised, that a part of that bitterness followed him right here into his mid-twenties and waited until now to punish the people that never hurt him in the process of damaging those that did.

There aren’t many wholesome moments in the book, but Archie’s was close. Look past Spencer’s lies and disguises and it was almost nice, what they had. Still, with the book release looming and Archie’s pseudonym vague enough only to fool everybody but the man himself, this is only right. He rings the doorbell and takes a step back, already feeling unwelcome following Archie’s suggestion to go for a walk even if, in just a few minutes, the man’s reluctance to have Spencer around will be more than justified.

Regardless, when the door opens he can’t help himself as the words fall out of him before he really gets to reason with himself. “One minute you’re crying in my living room and the next you’re exiling me from your house. What the fuck, Archie?”

The last person to tell him they needed to talk in person had been Rowan. All full of venom and vitriol and hatred. Thankfully Jordan is at work and Archie is blissfully alone nursing a black eye and staring down at the vague text message Spencer had sent. It could be another punch to the face and he was only so sure he could hide things up for so long. Two black eyes? Well, people would talk. He didn’t feel like seeing if Peter was exceptionally talented at his job over something as minimal as a rumor.

So of course he’s curious what Spencer wants and maybe, just maybe, he feels reckless.

Either way, when the doorbell rings he already feels like his skin is too tight. Hiding won’t do anyone any good and icing the growing bruise under his left eye will only do so much. Jordan would laugh if he saw him now, dressed in jeans and an old hoodie. Palming his keys, he steps forward onto the steps and lets Spencer talk while he busies himself locking up. “And a very pleasant hello to you too, Angel.” A small smile is offered as he pockets his keys. “I only suggested a walk because who doesn’t enjoy some fresh air?” Better than wasting energy cleaning the broken lamp and patching the hole in his wall. It’d be difficult enough explaining it to Jordan later.

“Hardly exile if you ask me.” Stepping past him and pausing mid way down the steps. “Did you really want to have this talk with Nana’s stuffed bear staring you down, Spencer?”

[daedeimos]

younghoax​:

His hoodie doesn’t reek or anything, alright? But it does need to be washed - like, yesterday. J’s mom used to tell him that washing shit like hoodies and jeans was dumb as fuck, said it was a waste of time and water, said that underwear needed to be washed, shirts too sometimes, but everything else is fine. So call it a habit, but it wasn’t until he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom mirror, toothpaste froth on his chin and last night’s dinner on his chest that he thought I cannot where this thing another day.

It’s a short while after Archie headed down that Jordan trails after him, into the kitchen. He’s one extreme or the other when it comes to mornings and it’s the kinds of dreams he has that dictates whether he’s awake at seven o’clock or midday. Funny enough, it’s the early starts that tend to follow a night plagued with nightmares. Today though, he woke up only a short time after Archie left, and it was the book at the man’s bedside that kept him upstairs. It didn’t make a lot of sense, Jordan thought as he squinted through the glasses he always forgets lie in the bottom of his bag (god knows how they ain’t broken in there without a case) and it was around fifteen minutes of trying before he decided that this mythology stuff makes more sense coming out of Archie’s mouth.

He forgot the glasses were still on when he sulked downstairs. Archie’s hoodie is a little too big which is a pain in his ass because he was hoping to wear the thing without being caught, but he’s here now, sat at the breakfast bar, arms propped on the island, sleeves falling from his wrists, pooling as his elbows, makin’ him look like some kinda runt with his chin in his hand like always. Whatever. He’s tired. The house is big and it’s cold, his hoodie’s stained and he’s been wearing Archie’s gym shorts most nights anyway. Whatever.

“I ain’t,” he says with a shrug, because he isn’t the type. Jordan’s never even had a Christmas tree, which is… fucking bazaar now he thinks about it. He’d decorated Dean’s with his family a couple times, and then helped again when the guy moved in with Jeff and got a tree for the apartment. Never one of his own though. He’s far from handy with a box of Christmas ornaments, but… “Sure,” he finds himself agreeing easily, less dismissive and more just groggy from his sleep. J backtracks though, asks, “Why the hedonism? And what the fuck is Saturn…ala? … Saturn-what?”

There’s a good bet no one has seen Jordan like this, soft and sleep ridden wearing glasses Archie had been surprised by the first time he saw. But fuck if it wasn’t nice knowing the blond was letting down his guard a little. Of course he’d sure there’s part of him on display for those clever green eyes but he doesn’t think about it. Nah, he only thinks his sweater looks damn better on Jordan than himself. Last night both of them came to some kind of silent agreement today was a laundry day and Archie decided on waffles before hiking tattooed thighs over his shoulders.

Leaving Bulfinch’s Mythology dog-earred and half annotated on his nightstand, Archie hadn’t considered that Jordan would want to read the dry source material in lieu of the colorful retelling sleepily mumbled against his temple in the dark of his bedroom. Something peaceful was on his features that Archie hadn’t the heart to think about waking him as he snuck off barefoot downstairs.

So making waffles in sweats was the perfect start only made better by the rumpled creature that followed him downstairs. Jordan would likely laugh at that if he were more awake.

“Me neither,” Archie agrees, letting the waffle cook a moment or two longer before twisting the iron and popping it open. But then the blonde agrees to his outlandish plan and he’s still sleepy enough to keep from hiding his grin. Dropping a waffle on the plate in front of Jordan, he ladles another and twists the iron back over. Fingers itch to brush back wild strands and it’s oh so tempting just to carry him back upstairs to his bed where it’s warm and comfortable. A soft hum and Archie is setting out butter and syrup and blackberry preserves. “Why not hedonism?” Dropping the second waffle onto his plate, he’s motioning a bit with the fork as he talks. “Saturnalia was a celebration in honor of the god Saturn, the father of Zeus, in hopes for a healthy harvest. A full week of debauchery and feasting all meant to appease some unknown force to grant mercy through the winter.”

Tapping his fork a second, Archie glances thoughtfully at the backyard.

“You know, back then they’d even go so far as human sacrifice and hang the heads as decoration.”

Fingertips alight gently at the curve of Jordan’s neck, a playful smile offered as his hand settles. Using his grip, it’s easy to lean over, lips pressing to Jordan’s jaw then brush featherlight at an ear. “Don’t worry Lamb,” he murmurs, “I prefer your head right here.”

[daedeimos]

younghoax​:

Keep reading

Part of him can see a moment of reservation. Like some kind of instinct or rather he’s just gotten good at watching Jordan’s face, noticing when he seems to be thinking about something. But this is still too new, too fresh, for him to say more than a soft hum between the kisses. Later he’d maybe remember to see if Jordan’s brows pinched like that or if it was just here and now with something on his mind.

But then Jordan is voicing a challenge and it’s hard to be concerned about what that look meant when all he can think about is what knots would hold the blonde best. Tilting his head affords him a glance at him. I won’t make it easy for you. “Good,” he answers in a low rumble, “I’d expect nothing less.” Really what he means to say is, Did you really think I wanted you easy? Or else the months spent circling Jordan thoughtful and hopelessly hopeful were just for his own masochistic pleasure. And now all he can think about is the taste of him, the way he feels under his hands, and how it never ever feels like enough. There’s teeth at his neck and Archie only half thinks when he breathes out over the hiss of the shower, “I want you to mark me.”

I want to remember, his hands say, nearly painting bruises at the line of Jordan’s spine with his appetite. All night he’d stood silent, playing the good wolf when all he’d really wanted was to skip the damn party and make good on what his hands promised at the doorsteps. He’d shown the blonde as much in the backseat, kissing him, biting his mouth and palming his cock with ever shortening patience. But it’s worth it, finding new footing with him here in the dark and for a moment he mourns the lack of light if only for the fact he can’t see Jordan’s face so much as feel his breath and the subtle shift between them. It’s easy as breathing, taking control, as they part from that slow kiss and a shaking exhale slips free as he watches with his fingers in blonde hair.

Better than dreaming really, better than his restless mind conjured up. Jordan is absolutely obscene in the best of ways and his hands are gentle stroking along his skin, carding through his hair. It’s silent praise as that clever mouth sets to work nearly buckling his knees more than a few times if he’d been a more inexperienced man. Blue eyes are dark in the shadows, his lips parted with a breathy groan and a pleased sigh. He’d been aching before and now? Now he’s watching Jordan’s mouth with fixed attention while his cock drips pre that the blonde swipes up almost greedily.

“Baby,” he breathes out, on the edge of Jordan’s breathy curse and ready to warn him against touching himself. I’m so far from done with you. But the words catch and it’s like the other man knows as his grip tightens on blonde hair. “That’s it.” Pleasure tightens dangerously in his stomach and he’s groaning low as Jordan’s tongue circles his balls and the sound of it burns his ears. It’s easy to let him have free reign, to watch what Jordan does when given permission to just take what he wants.

God is it sinful.

Blue meets green in the shadows and the words come out in a hushed groan. “Good boy.” But it’s then his patience wanes and he catches Jordan by the jaw, guiding him down as much as following the man’s wild impatience that nearly matches his own. “Look at how good you are,” he nearly growls, pulling that sinful mouth off his cock with an obscene pop and tilting his head up to look at him. Part of him wants to kiss him just to taste alcohol and himself on those lips. But that quiet dark part holds back, choosing to twist his fingers steady and firm through blonde hair while his other hand cradles his jaw.

“Tongue out baby boy. Let me give you what you need.” The pad of his thumb strokes Jordan’s chin before his hand falls away in favor of taking a hold of his cock. Archie gives it an appraising stroke, fingers slick with Jordan’s saliva and pre-come. His gaze is dark, dropping from beautiful green eyes in favor of watching how his cock looks, swollen head tapping against his tongue. “You’ve been so good for me, let me reward you.” Archie waits just long enough for Jordan to obey, sliding his cock nice and slow along the curve of his tongue and easing deep into his mouth, down his throat. Steady hands hold him down, fingers twisted firm in blonde hair.

“Just like that sweet boy,” he sighs out, unable to look away even as he starts slow with a roll of his hips and fucks the tight clenching heat of Jordan’s throat while breathing out groaning half snarled words. “Keep your hands off your cock. That’s it baby boy. Fuck, just look at you. So beautiful.”

[daedeimos]

spencerquinnofficial​:

> text: a. m. < It’s not that serious, just time sensitive.

> text: angel ჻ Time sensitive? Somehow with you, that makes me worried.

> text: angel ჻ Be here soon. We’ll talk.