#i would like to write a 1930s au but it would be set in the uk bc in the 30s korea was under japanese rule and there are a lot of cultural-

[midnight--sadness]

1930’s mob au Inhun…. Gi-hun runs a restaurant that’s in the mob’s territory, and he has to pay monthly protection to the mob so they won’t damage his storefront. The food is good but Gi-hun’s stress makes the quality decline, especially after his wife leaves and his debt to the mob keeps on piling up and up.

One day, a handsome stranger comes to his restaurant. Gi-hun is sure that this man is from the mob and here to hurt him for not paying his debt, but goes to meet him anyway.

The man introduces himself as In-ho, and says that he’s the head of the mob now that Oh Il-nam has retired. He says that the mob’s protection fees now aren’t mandatory, but will provide protection from cops, other gangs, and even disasters. He wants to help his community, especially since he grew up on the streets. Gi-hun is speechless already, but then In-ho takes his hand, squeezes it, and tells him that his debt is forgiven. It’s enough to make him start crying. Before In-ho leaves, he runs back to the kitchen and makes him some food, packs it up to go, and gives it to him on the house. In-ho takes it with a smile, then leaves.

He’s back the next day, ordering the meal Gi-hun cooked for him the night before. He says it’s the best food he’s had in a while, and it pales in comparison to the food people serve in those really fancy restaurants. Gi-hun admits he’s never been to even a nice-ish restaurant in years because he’s never had enough money. So, the next day, In-ho comes in and orders his favorite, and pays for it with a box of pasta from a really nice Italian place on the other side of town. They start eating together after that, and In-ho watches as Gi-hun’s mood and health slowly improve.

It’s not long before In-ho starts to shower Gi-hun in gifts. He gets Gi-hun a nice coat, leather gloves, and sturdy boots. Gi-hun jokes that he’d get him anything he looked at for too long, and In-ho responds by getting him a silky, orange dress he saw Gi-hun staring at for too long. He also starts pulling strings to get his restaurant to be more successful. He convinces a food critic to go to his restaurant, and the positive review drives a ton of business to Gi-hun. Gi-hun asks In-ho how he could ever repay him, and In-ho suggests they get drinks together. Gi-hun shows up to the date in his orange dress, and In-ho realizes then and there that he never wants to let Gi-hun go.

They don’t even make it to the bar. In-ho tells his driver to go take a smoke break, and rails Gi-hun in the back of his car until Gi-hun’s legs are shaking

this is amazing anon 🫶🫶😩😩😩😩

the silk orange dress is going down in history....... inho makes sure gihun always wears it around bc it gets him going (👀) like nothing else

[noble-atomics-railway]

1. The New Fireman

It would be nice, for a change, to have someone experienced working on his engine with him rather than someone he had to watch like a hawk. 

He met his new fireman early one morning as he checked over his engine. A quiet “hello” dragged him from his fixation on his task. 

“Henry Stanier.” Henry held out his hand, smiling. 

“Gordon Gresley.” Gordon shook it, turning away from his engine.

Henry laughed softly. “Like my name, no relation?” Slowly, Henry's eyes roamed over the engine, taking in every detail. “It's a lovely Gresley you have, though not like one I've ever seen before.”

“He's one of a kind,” Gordon said proudly. “He's a 1920's model, sold off cheap to this railway due to being a prototype. It's the only rails he's ever known.”

Next >  

The tags on this story make it look strange, but it'll be worth it, I swear. My summery of this fic is 'imagine a BBC period drama, but it takes place on Sodor, and is overlaid with TTTE characters.

This story started out as 'if I was going to do a human AU, I'd set it on the railroad' and quickly escalated into a full blown story about blackmail and how it feels to never be accepted for what you are. Henry feels too much for a man of his era, and it's a story about how hard it is to fit in when you are, to borrow a phrase from Steam Powered Giraffe 'wired wrong'.

Of course, some of these attitudes about what it means to be a man are still ingrained in today's society, and Gordon in this story is the embodyment of them. Proud, and letting no one see him cry.

I could find very little information about how people got treated for being gay in the 1930's-1960's so I went off the attitudes of grandparents towards these demographics, and the way they speak about them. It's why it has so many period typical warnings because I didn't want to tart it up too much, as much as I have tried to keep it as PG as possible.

It's a story of tearing down walls, and accepting, and being loved. It's a story of how far people will go to protect what they love. It's a story I have enjoyed writing, and hope people will enjoy reading.

[numberonecodwomenfan]

anyone else find it a little (a lot) weird when people write wwii aus with könig? or with anyone but especially with könig. like… you can write period piece/historical aus, but using wwii as your defining event just feels kind of strange. idk maybe it’s because i’m jewish and i personally hc könig as jewish, but it just feels icky.

if i were to write something set in the 1930s/40s for whatever reason, maybe i would mention that könig wasn’t drafted because he was too nervous and fidgety, and they didn’t think he would be fit to go to war. or maybe he was too tall- i know there are height limits but i dont know if that would apply during a draft. or maybe he faked an injury, or a mental illness. who knows.

(chad chad voice) disclaimerrrr, this is a disclaimerrrrr: do whatever u want im just a hater

[michaelasworlds-blog]

Hey Hey!

Today I wanted to share a Human AU that I’ve been thinking about writing (well I’m gonna write it lol) It’s about my OC (Bean) and Vox (Vaughn), it’s set in the 1930s and goes until 1950 (when Vox dies). I’ve written the beginning. Everything you see is literally a WIP, so it’s all under construction (it may change over time) See how ya like it! 😊

Summary: In 1930, Beatrice is a young biracial girl who knew from the start that she wasn’t destined to succeed. However she meets Vaughn, a radio host trying to make it to television, this is her opportunity to make it; to have fame and fortune…

But what price will she pay?

~~~~~~

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: RACISM, HOMOPHOBIA, UNDERAGE MARRIAGE!🚨

Baton Rouge, Louisiana 1930

Vaughn Anderson was a man of many talents, and he was happy to share these talents with his friends and family, at least as long as they had something to give in return.

Thats why when his “friend”, Donahue “Donnie” Matten asked him for help he got on the next train to Louisiana. Vaughn had hoped whatever he wanted was worth it, Louisiana was hotter than Hell; he hadn’t been here since he was being interviewed at WWL; the only crappy radio station they had. The host, some four eyed bastard, tried embarrassing him on the air. He refused to come back, but Tommy, his publicist, convinced him it was a bad idea.

“There he is!” Donnie stepped out of the car.

Vaughn flashed him a fake smile, if he could describe Donnie in one word it’d be “irresponsible”. He was a talented pianist, was from old money and known by everyone in the North then he just disappeared, this is the first time he’s seen him in 17 years.

“Shake a leg Bea!” He yelled behind him.

A young girl came up behind him, she wore a light blue dress that with white gloves and heels to compliment it; the young lady struggled to keep her hat on her head. Her skin was what Vaughn was focused on, it was very tanned; almost a light brown, maybe a little lighter than a paper bag but she was definitely brown. “Sorry papa,” she took the hat off, revealing coily brown hair that reached her shoulders.

“Donnie, finally,” Vaughn laughed, shaking his hand.

“Hope the trip wasn’t too rough,” Donnie pat him on the back. Was he not gonna mention the brown elephant in the room?

“Well I had to ride next to a man that smelled like he showered in booze, I had to sit in this dirty stuffy train station for almost an hour, and I’m back here in this country hick place; so all in all..it was fantastic,” He wore a grin on his face, but his voice was full of sarcasm. “Please get to what you need, I’m a very busy man.”

“Right! This..” Donnie pushes the girl forward. “This is Beatrice.”

“Hello sir, pleasure to meet you,” she smiled.

Vaughn nodded in her direction, “She just got back from boarding school a month ago, she’s great at singing, painting and the violin-“ Donnie was interrupted by Vaughn pulling him to the side.

“What are you doing?” He asked him.

“I have the slightest idea,” Donnie looked smug.

“Just answer this, is she your daughter? Your ACTUAL daughter?” He glanced at Beatrice.

“Quite the looker isn’t she?” He nudged him. Vaughn had to admit Beatrice was beautiful, she didn’t have any blemishes or marks on her face but that could be easily hidden with makeup.

“What is it you want?” Vaughn was done with the run around.

“I want you to take my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

This made Vaughn laugh, “Do you know how illegal that is?! It’s more illegal than her existence!”

“Oh you would know about illegal huh? With your little community that you keep deep in woods, you tell the listeners it’s charity for the the homeless but we all what goes on, it’s also the reason that you’ve NEVER had a woman in your life; you’re some kind of fairy,” Donnie looked him up and down smirking.

Vaughn groaned, Tommy told him about everything; if there were rumors about him being a homosexual, he’d know.

He didn’t have a problem with…Beatrice’s people, some of his followers were of color; they were very resourceful people in nature but not in public. “Say I did marry her? Would there be something in it for me?”

“Vaughn on Air could happen a lot faster, I could talk to my father and he could talk to some people,” Donnie was smug, he had been waiting for something like this; Vaughn Anderson finally needed his help and he finally had something useful to give.

“And..who is this someone?” Vaughn raised an eyebrow.

“Sonny Rogers, that’s who,” Donnie responded.

Vaughn’s eyes widened, Sonny Rogers? THE Sonny Rogers?! He was able to make a star out of anyone, not that Vaughn wasn’t a star but this could be big, bigger than “Vaughn on Air”! He cleared his throat keeping his composure, “Well I have to talk with Tommy but you have a deal.”

“Excellent!” Both the men shook hands before returning to Beatrice, who was in her own little world. “Bea! Come on girl!” Donnie ordered.

She hurried over to him, standing in front of Vaughn. He looked down at her, a smile forming across face, “Enchanté ma chérie.” He kissed her hand, making her blush.

Translation: Pleased to meet you my dear.

Beatrice seemed frozen, just staring at him; “Bonjour,” she managed to say quietly.

Vaughn laughed, “No need to be nervous doll face, I’m just pulling your leg!” Beatrice also laughed.

“I’m going back to the house Bea, don’t cause any trouble; you listen to Mr. Anderson!” Donnie laughed, walking back to his car before driving off.

The two watched the car leave, Vaughn turned to the young lady; “I’m melting out here, how bout we hit the nearest ice cream parlor for some ice cream?”

Beatrice nodded, smiling with excitement, “We can take the trolley into town!” She took his hand practically dragging him to the nearest trolley.

Vaughn listened to the girl yap on and on about nothing, all he could think about was how she was the key to his success, and he was the key to hers. Which means,

She wasn’t going anywhere.

(Tags: @man--eater @artemis1214 @nkirukaj @mythosandthemorbid ) Just tagging ppl I haven’t lol

[xoxoemynn]

hey marianne tell us about the wip you're most excited about in as much detail as you want

HOO BOY WOULD I LOVE TO. And I have yet to consolidate this into an elevator pitch so it'll definitely be long. It started off as an Old Hollywood/Broadway AU and now has spiraled into what I'd say most simply is a dimension travel AU that's also a bit of a meta commentary on OFMD's cancellation.

I'll put it under a cut because this DID actually get annoyingly long.

OKAY SO. We have 1990s Ed. He's a legendary Broadway performer known mostly as a dancer but he's been getting a bit sick of it, but also doesn't know what he'd want to do next since he's still relatively young. He keeps putting it off until he injures his knee in a show and can no longer dance, and now he's forced to actually figure out what he's going to do next.

While he's depressed and recovering, he passes the time watching old black and white musicals. He discovers the dance team of Stede Bonnet and Mary Allamby (loosely inspired by Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, who were baby's first hyperfixation as a pre-teen, making this a VERY exciting project for me personally) and is immediately in awe of Stede, although surprised he's never heard of him before.

Through some hand-waving, Ed eventually realizes he's able to talk to Stede through the TV, and then later that he's actually able to enter the TV itself and exist in Stede's world. Except it's not just the 1930s. Stede's literally been living in a kind of grayscale purgatory that looks like his film sets. He has no concept of the passage of time, or even exactly what happened that caused him to be stuck there, and he's the only real person existing there, until Ed shows up.

Naturally they quickly fall in love, but they have a bit of a star-crossed lovers thing going on because they can't FULLY be together, and they also have different wants in life. For Ed, he LOVES being in this black and white world. He's in love with Stede, his knee doesn't bother him there, he gets to explore these really cool art deco film sets, he doesn't have to think about what he's going to do with his life. He gets to just be happy. For him, being in a black and white world cut off from everyone else but Stede is a small and worthy sacrifice for all that.

But Stede's been trapped there for 60 years with no sign of escape, and he misses being in the real world. He loves having Ed there and loves Ed, but he also wonders what else is out there. He misses being out in the real world and seeing everything in color and experiencing life off a Hollywood film set that was specifically designed to be entirely escapist for filmgoers looking to get away from their problems during the Great Depression.

So the bulk of the story is about Ed and Stede navigating their relationship and how they can really be together, as well as uncovering what happened to Stede in the first place that caused him to be trapped. It's got big themes of authenticity, acceptance, the temptation of avoidance, and being comfortable in the unknown. Influences that have wormed their way in include The Giver, Pleasantville, The Red Shoes, Barbie (lol), The Haunting of Hill House, Zaslav being a fuckhead, and an experimental art film called The Afterlight. It's taken me a LONG time to plan it because the world-building was really complex and there were a ton of little nuances to sort out, but I'm finally in a good place to really start writing it. I'm very excited because there are at least two REALLY sad scenes in it that I am 😈 about. But DEFINITELY a happy ending with a huge thread of hope running throughout, and is ultimately about creating a life for yourself where you can be your most authentic self, as terrifying as that may be.

THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO RAMBLE I LOVE YOU. 💕

[montanamp3]

ok i know nobody will have any idea what im yapping about but. if i were going to hypothetically write 1930s country music bandom rpf

1970s japan pros:

i've done lots of research for the 1970s setting already

yapping about country music

yapping about country music in asia!!

i don't have to stress out about actually writing southern american english (the biggest pitfall to actually writing tcf fic)

1970s japan cons:

honestly there isn't actually that much information about japanese bluegrass on the internet in english

is it. like. ethical to racebend real people 😭

2000s livejournal au:

it would be really funny

as a Classically Trained RPFer with a Concentration in Ryden this would be in my element too

internet and tech focus paralleling radio in canonera

they ARE actually kind of emo in this essay i will

target audience of panic at the disco -> country music pipeline victims

i get to do it in an epistolary r/hobbydrama way

2000s livejournal cons:

nobody in that scene was straight 😭 how do i divorce plotline in these conditions

we'd have to compress the timeline really hard if we want to do a panic-style rise and fall storyline

Writing white people 👎 nothing against white people I'm just scared I'll mess something up

need to research virginia :(

[ge]

PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT THIS AU🙏 😌

TEEHEE HEE ANYTHING FOR YOUUU its based on the bl cdrama winter begonia which i highly recommend watching so u can see my vision more clearly since idk how well ill be able to fully encapsulate it...its like the only cdrama ive actually finished and it holds a very dear place in my heart.. its all translated on youtube if ur interested (smile

this au takes place in 1930s shaanxi and follows chung myung, a semi-retired peking opera dan (an opera performer who takes on the roles of women in plays) who was once wildly famous and well known for his talent and passion for the arts in his youth until a tragic "accident" struck him and his former troupe, leaving his troupe to fall out of favour of the public eye and into (physical as well as financial) ruin; and tang bo, a wealthy business man from sichuan who became captivated w peking opera after watching a performance from chung myungs troupe for the first time and ends up making an acquaintanceship w chung myung and becomes the troupes main sponsor and avid supporter, helping them rebuild their huashan house as well as their former prominence and fame...

my au follows the show pretty closely and i was going to keep the political plot kind of vague since i wasnt sure how to touch on it but its a really integral part of the story so im keeping it in, the drama focusing closely on the preservation of the art during the japanese occupation......... not that im ever actually going to write anything for this au but still, it exists in my head and i need to connect the dots so

chung myung, as per always in my canon and aus, is a trans man here and that plays a pretty significant role in his life and lore of this au.. historically, women werent allowed to play in opera so men would take on the female (aka DAN) roles.. chung myung being a trans man playing a dan role is like, for him, a middle finger to the status quo and period typical transphobia he'd face if it were known as well as a spiteful internalized gesture OF 'if only you knew'.. the world would see him as a woman who isnt good enough despite him being the man who is the best.. rubs chin.. im not good w words, this makes way more sense in my head but if u get wat im trying to say then u get it..

they also all have short hair in this au SORRY i know i said i would never give them short hair in any aus i did but it has to be this way for this au, taking place during the chinese republican era where short hairstyles were mandated (this, again, ties into trans chung myung)

cheng fengtai and shang xirui are just so tangchung I CANT EXPLAIN IT YOU JUST HAVE TO KNOW.. wealthy businessman whose had everything fed to him on a silver platter his whole life finds himself unhappy & wanting more from life and lonely orphan boy raised in a strict martial arts setting grows up to be the best at his craft but still wants for more.. cheng fengtai and shang xirui are soulmates.. tang bo and chung myung are soulmates.. can i make it anymore obvious..

everyone in rotmhs has an obvious counterpart in this au, like tangchung are the mcs of course but chung myungs troupe are the mt hua disciples/elders, the great sects/families (sans tang family, which is plot relevant) are involved in the opera scene in some way, the magyo are also an opera troupe in this au LOL..

but one thing i wanted desperately to keep in this au was tang bo and his wife/family/child, which is kind of hard to do since there are literally like no fucking women in rotmhs so i have to make ocs... the subplot in the drama of cft (tang bo) "cheating" (in quotations cuz they never actually crossed any lines but it was obvious there was deep unspoken romantic tension there + the wife suspected) on his wife w sxr (chung myung) is so vindicating to me.. closeted gay people cheating on their opposite sex arranged marriages/spouses for someone of the same sex.. its so real.. so freeing.. gay people trapped in straight marriages, especially in the 1930s.. i really adored the nuances in the way it was handled so beautifully in the drama so i HAD to adapt it here.. its such a guilty pleasure of mine weehehehe twirls hair

the drama ends in a bittersweet hopeful kind of way, nothing bad happens to anyone i just want to put that out there..in case ur worried, no buried gays or wateva

umm well im tired so i cant think of anythign else to say but if u love beautiful costumes, drama, heart aching romance.. IF U HAVE ANY SPECIFIC QUESTIONS JUST ASK CUZ IDK WAT ELSE TO SAY..... please watch winter begonia so we can frolic in the flower fields that are my winter begonia tangchung au...... plugging this again since who knows when yall'll see it again.. goo bye.... (chung myung in 'drunken concubine' play costume⬇️⬇️⬇️)

[emily-mooon]

Jancy Weekend Day Three: Future or AU

Since I have started to reread the Miss Peregrine series (more like reread the first three books, read the rest of the fourth book, and then read the last two), I came up with an au last night for Stranger Things and I thought why not make little doodles of Jancy in this au for day three of Jancy weekend?

Since I’m assuming most of you have never read the books, I’ll quickly explain some important things under the cut (I encourage everyone to read it).

-Peculiarities are the powers in this books universe. They can appear at any point in a persons life and can vary from being invisible to having bees living inside you with added ability of controlling them. Even though they can appear randomly, it does not mean everybody has them. Technically you are born with them but it does not mean you’ll come into the world floating (that happened to one character).

-Ymbyrnes are another type of peculiar that is in charge. The reason why is because they can create loops, the hiding places of peculiars. They are always women and can transform into birds.

- As I mentioned briefly, loops are the hiding places of peculiars. They are time loops and can be set in anytime period on any day and can be placed anywhere. The reason why peculiars hide in them is from hollowgasts, the monsters of this universe that hunt peculiars (though in the second book they evolve and gain the ability to enter them).

Now that I have explained some details about the universe, I’ll quickly explain small details of this au.

- I imagine that Nancy is an ymbryne in training and the bird that she transforms into is a bluebird (yes Nancy is the bird sitting on Jonathan’s fingers). I’m still deciding on what Jonathan’s would be. I’m thinking either whatever Jake, the protagonist of the book series, has or the ability to see ghosts.

- The loop that Nancy lives in is in the 1930s, the reasoning from whoever will be the ymbryne in charge of it is that everyone is too busy thinking about the depression so no one will notice that there is an invisible child walking around. The outfits in the third sketch is what they wear in the loop (because who wears modern clothes in a time period where the style does not exist?)

That’s all I’ll share for right now. I’m thinking about making a ton of mood boards for the other parings at some point. I may or may not write it but since I have not read all of the books and only finished the first three and read about half of the fourth book, it would be at some point in the future.

Also if there is someone who has read all of the books here and would like to add information I missed in the comments or in a reblog, go on ahead.

Hope you all had a good weekend!

[bradshawsbaby]

22 for the spring prompts with Rhett and Honeybee?

Royalty AU with Rhett? This one was so fun to write!

(It’s not really pivotal to the plot, but I imagined this being set in the 1930s as I was writing it!)

“I can’t believe Father is imprisoning us here all summer,” Annabelle snapped in disgust, the late afternoon sun filtering across her irritated face as she stood at the window, glaring down at the pastoral scene unfolding before her.

Your older sister had been fuming all day—all month, really. Ever since your father had informed the two of you that you would be spending the summer at the country estate, Annabelle had been in even more of a sour mood than usual, digging in her heels and practically throwing a tantrum this morning before you’d left the palace.

“Not very dignified behavior,” your older brother had whispered to you conspiratorially, his serious expression belying the humor that was dancing behind his eyes.

“It isn’t fair that Edward gets to remain in the city, while we’re stuck here, in this provincial wasteland,” Annabelle went on, her lips pursing in an expression that reminded you distinctly of the time you’d sucked a particularly sour lemon.

“Edward is the eldest,” you commented patiently, riffling through your valise. “And he’s the one who’s next in line for the throne. It makes sense that he would remain with Father.”

Annabelle let out a noise of distaste. “Of course you would take his side. You always take his side,” she retorted.

You wisely said nothing in response to that. You couldn’t help the fact that you and your brother had always been thick as thieves.

“I rather like the country estate. I’m glad we get two whole months to be here,” you said, trying to maintain a positive outlook.

Your sister rolled her eyes, giving you that patronizing look that implied you were the most naive simpleton she’d ever been forced to associate with. “You would,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Only you could find enjoyment in a place this boring.”

“It’s peaceful,” you replied with a graceful shrug of your shoulder, knowing it was useless. Your sister was determined to be miserable the entire time she was here. But that didn’t mean you had to be.

Stepping up to another large window, you gazed out at the expansive meadows with a wide grin spreading across your face. You loved the country estate. It had everything—peace and quiet, fresh air, a stable full of horses you could ride whenever you wanted.

Most of all, it had him.

Glancing over your shoulder at Annabelle, you took a step back and cleared your throat. “I think I’m going to go visit the horses,” you declared, feigning a nonchalance you didn’t actually feel.

“Not even here an hour and you’re already off to muck around with those filthy beasts,” your sister groaned, shaking out her delicate tresses. “I’m going to take a nap,” she huffed, whirling around and storming off towards her bedroom.

That was one good thing about Annabelle—she never bothered with your comings and goings, and she never asked to tag along.

Tiptoeing down the stairs, you snuck past a large group of household staff, being directed by the kindhearted, but firm manager of the estate, Mrs. Ainsley.

“The princesses will be here all summer, and we must ensure that everything is perfect for them as long as they’re here. Now get moving,” she was ordering.

Good, they were all busy, which meant nobody would be paying you any mind. Once you slipped out one of the side doors, you let out a sigh of relief and then took off towards the stables at a brisk pace.

You had just made a turn around the bend when you suddenly came up short, breath catching in your throat.

There he was.

He spotted you, too, the second you came into view on the path. You could tell from the way he stood up straighter, that piercing blue gaze ensnaring you, even from this distance.

You couldn’t really be certain who moved first, or if both of you moved at the same time, but soon you were standing face to face, only a foot or two separating you now.

Remembering himself, he suddenly lowered into the stiff bow you’d come to affectionately associate with him. He had never been one for formalities.

“Your Highness,” he greeted you, his voice just as deep and raspy as you remembered.

“Mr. Abbott,” you replied politely, giving him unspoken permission to rise from his awkward bow.

“It’s good to see you again,” he murmured, something glinting in his eyes as he looked at you.

“And you,” you smiled, your face betraying nothing of the emotions that were roiling inside you. To any prying eyes, it would appear that you were just having a respectable conversation with the stable boy. “I trust the horses have been well since our last stay?” you asked, twisting your fingers into the fabric of your dress.

“They have,” he nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Would you like to see them?”

“I would, thank you,” you nodded, smiling again as he led you into the spacious, well kept stables.

No sooner had the two of you stepped inside the cool walls of the stable and ensured that no one else was within earshot than he was pulling you into an empty stall, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing you like a dying man enjoying his last meal.

“Rhett,” you panted softly, your fingers tangling in his hair, the hair Annabelle always claimed was too long to be respectable. Annabelle knew nothing. “Rhett,” you moaned as his hot mouth began trailing kisses down your throat. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he mumbled against your skin, peppering your neck with gentle pecks. “I barely survived it, waiting for you to come back.”

“But I’m here now. And Father says we’re to stay all summer. Two whole months, at the very least,” you told him excitedly, cupping his ruggedly handsome face in your hands.

“Thank God,” he said quietly, kissing you again. It had been nearly a year since you’d last gotten to rest in his embrace and neither of you wanted to waste a moment. “Your kisses still taste as sweet as honey,” he grinned, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“So do yours,” you laughed breathlessly, pressing your body against his. You knew it was forward, and certainly most unladylike, but you couldn’t help it. You had missed him, and you were more desperate for him than ever before.

Rhett groaned softly under his breath, his fingers lightly brushing over your hair. “We have to be careful, Princess,” he whispered, using your title even though you hated it. “If anyone were to catch us—I’m nothing—”

“That’s not true,” you interrupted him, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re everything. You’re everything to me.”

Rhett smiled at that, though he still looked a touch uncertain. He reached up to gently stroke your cheek. “Welcome back, Princess.”

Spring OTP Prompts 👑

[doriansredroses]

Oh no, here we go again. I have another unhinged writing idea.

Princess and Pauper au that’s set in the golden age of Hollywood. The early years that is, 1910-1930. Probably the 20s. Anneliese would be a star, Preminger is a really rich star, Nick and Nack are like Charlie Chaplin and Fatty Arbuckle, or even Buster Keaton (the comedy is perfect), Erika is a costume designer, and so forth.

I blame my film professor for this. He assigned short silent films with Chaplin, Keaton, and Arbuckle. Oops. I may write this.

[booksniffingbastard]

AU Fanfiction Projects on AO3

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Doomsday Blues - series

**currently down for maintenance**

This fic is not abandoned, ever. It's far too personal and at times I use it as an outlet for the thoughts I have that'll eat me up, if I don't get them out of my system. But. I'm not sure it works in its current form. I think I need to tear it into bits and pieces and reassemble something new. Probably it would be better as several independent stories than just one long one. I'm also unsure if it even works as a Shameless fanfiction. So it'll sit in my docs, while I figure things out.

The story of a demon summoning gone wrong and the consequences for Chicagoans, especially two families in the South Side.

Work: By the Pricking of My Thumbs - AO3 - Spotify playlist

Work: A Finnish Knife Strikes - AO3 - Spotify playlist

Very long, very self-indulgent and very, very weird. I've done absolutely nothing to reign in my weird and pretentious self while writing this, so it's ... a lot.

Writing this particular story is cathardic for me and in some ways I use it to deal with a lot of bad shit that has happened in my life and with my own mental illness.

A lot of angst, a lot of dark humor, and a lot of smaller stories weaved into a big one.

Inspired by works of: Mikhail Bulgakov, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Bashevis Singer, Avram Davidson, Nicholai Gogol

and

Folk tales from Eastern Europe and Ireland, The Key of Solomon: Ars Goethia by Alastair Crowley

Ian Gallagher and the Amazing Intelligent Machines

One shot, currently being written, but very, very slowly.

Sort of a Shameless/IT Crowd - crossover

A beautiful love story between a mentally ill man and his microwave oven.

It's as stupid as it sounds.

Inspiration: My own irrational fear of machines.

The Masochist's Cookbook - Spotify Playlist

The story of how Ian Gallagher met his family.

I never write anything but AU stories. This one takes place in the entirely fictional town of Arson, Illinois in the year 2000.

I've never written a whump before, so it's also a challenge to myself. I'm really good at creating problems, but solving them.... It's a journey.

Inspired by: All the high school tv shows and movies.

Outer Banks fanfics:

Bromancing the Stone.

I've always loved the action-adventure aspect of the show and wanted to expand on it, but aim for a story more akin to the likes of Indiana Jones, Romancing the Stone, The Mummy (2001), Pirates of the Caribbiean, Treasure Planet, The Princess Bride.

You know: Fun, romance and fighting. No major character deaths planned. (Seriously wouldn't do that in a swashbuckling adventure. It's been 30+ years and I'm still pissed about Rufio.)

Right now, it looks like it's going to be set in the late 1930s or early 1940s, but it most definitely will have the historical accuracy of a Disney movie. So racism and homophobia isn't a problem.

But probably nazis. Irredemably evil nazis. It'll give me an excuse to dust off and hopefully improve my terrible german.

And the story is going to be gay.

I'm trying to make it light, but I'm a silly person, not a fundamentally happy person, so it probably won't be angst-free.

I'm still plotting out the storyline, but I'm hoping to start uploading material before the year is out.

[heavencasteel420]

Maddie - Yay, great! 👏🏼

Here are the questions! Looking forward to reading your responses… 😊

I mostly have ideas for multi-chapter fics, especially when it comes to Jancy, but I think I like writing one-shots more.

I usually do a very rough outline before starting a chapter (a list of scenes/plot points/goals) but revise it a lot as I go (like deciding to combine two scenes or insert a new one).

Usually I have a couple of vague ideas about plot points and vibes first. For example, with Drive All Night, it occured to me that the S1 Jancy scene where they practice shooting in the woods had Bonnie and Clyde vibes, and then I saw the 1932 movie Wild Boys of the Road and liked how it escalated from "teen comedy set during Depression" to "bleak chaotic Depression Era social drama with really satisfying violence." I let those ideas percolate a little and maybe ramble about them on Tumblr or to my IRL friend who's never watched Stranger Things. Then I write a first chapter to see if it has legs. If I'm having fun and feel intrigued about what's going to happen next, I continue. With one-shots, I usually have a specific idea I want to convey, so I think more about the overall arc I want and how each scene pushes towards that.

I get a lot of ideas from watching other media and deciding that I want to put characters in that kind of situation. I have a Jancy-Byler idea (pretty low on things that I'd actually write) where Jonathan, Will, and El are siblings who have powers (mind-reading, being a medium, and telekinesis, respectively) during the 1930s and work for carnivals before deciding to run a con on the town of Hawkins (particularly the Wheeler and Harrington families, about to unite through the marriage of Nancy and Steve). This came about because I love the movie The Brothers Bloom and had recently watched the remake of Nightmare Alley. Sometimes fandom discourse provides inspiration. For Tonight, Tonight, for example, I got annoyed with people not understanding why Jonathan initially thinks Joyce is losing her mind re: the lights and so decided to write an AU where his worst fears come to pass; exploring the consequences for Nancy kind of followed from that.

I've participated in a lot of writing workshops and really appreciate constructive criticism in the right context, but on a fanfic I've already posted, from someone whose tastes/goals may be very different from my own, is not that context. People are entitled to their opinions, but at that point I'm probably not going to change anything.

I don't have my work beta'd.

I have two dual POV WIPs going right now (Tonight, Tonight and my not-yet-posted Robin-and-Jonathan friendship fic) and two fics (Drive All Night and Ugly as Sin) with a single POV. It depends partly on who's the main character (Ugly as Sin is way more about Chrissy than Eddie or anyone else), who's going through the more dramatic changes (Nancy in Drive All Night), and how much information I want to convey.

I like the middle of a story, because that's when everything gets complicated. Endings are the hardest to write.

Yes, I comment, but not as much as I would like to!

“Look, I get it,” she said, blinking rapidly. “Robin’s the pretty one. But she’s also really immature and flaky, and she’s never going to go out with you.” [Spoken to Jonathan by one of Robin's friends; he knows she's a lesbian and does not in fact want to go out with her, but he's like "hey" on her behalf.]

Off the top of my head: already wise, already worn by throttlegainwell; How Do We Get to There from Here? by nyctanthes; and where the hours bend by fakelight.

I don't need a ton of feedback, but just one person saying that they like or want to see more of something makes all the difference.

Don't get too attached to your vision of how a scene/chapter should go if it's not working in the moment. Also, if I want to do something weird or risky or gross, it's probably actually a good idea.

Sometimes emotional scenes come really easy, but other times I have to sit down and outline everything the characters might be feeling so I can decide how much to reveal/describe. There's always a decision to be made how direct to be about a character's feelings; there's a time to convey it really subtly through how the character perceives their environment and their body language and all, but there's also a time to go "he felt like shit." And I do feel what the characters feel, quite often! I cried a lot writing Tonight, Tonight, let me tell you. I also draw from personal experience a lot, although it's not always super-direct.

There's so much pressure in writing smut scenes! I generally don't try to make them "sexy" so much as I try to convey what the characters are feeling (i.e., that they like looking at each other and enjoy what they're doing). How graphic I get usually depends on the character's attitude and the pacing of the story. I value sexual frankness in writing in general, though.

Three active WIPs (two posted) and twenty other ideas, roughly. My two big ideas are (a) a slice-of-life No Upside Down AU centered on Nancy, Jonathan, Mike, and Will and (b) a film noir homage with some Gone Girl stuff going on.

I leave it for a little while. Then I go back and try to figure out where I stopped getting interested, or I skip to the "good part."

I usually come up with a title towards the beginning of the writing process and then change it a million times. Mostly I get titles from song lyrics.

Looking at "additional tags" only, "Child Abuse" and "Minor Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler" are in the lead. Jonathan and Chrissy are both going through it usually, and I do like writing Steve and Nancy as a temporary romance.

For some reason, "Jonathan buys a used car from Lonnie" is a scenario that comes up a lot? I like writing about food, clothes, and money. I like putting in random stuff that isn't really part of the current pop culture vision of the 1980s, like holdovers from the 1970s or how much awful TV everyone was watching.

Probably! I used to write stories with my best friend when we were in middle school (mostly original stuff) and that was always really fun.

I probably wouldn’t write a crossover with a work that’s already shown up a lot in the fandom (like It, The Black Phone, or Scream).

If you cut a passage from a story, save it in a separate document because it could be useful later.

So many people insist that “cum,” not “come,” should be used as a verb for orgasming, but that’s not true unless you’re going for the sleaziest vibe possible (no judgment).

I've been happy with the response on all my fics, but Tonight, Tonight, the Highway's Bright has a special place in my heart because it's so weird and sad.

Drive All Night, due to all the murders and crimes.

My favorite part is when you get a really good but unexpected idea, either out of the blue or after mulling things over for a while. My least favorite part is getting stuck on a scene because you can't figure out how to say that a character got up from a chair or something really silly like that.

250-500 hundred words, probably.

I'm a slow writer but I edit pretty fast. I check for typos and I take out unnecessarily wordy bits.

I share bits of rough drafts but not the whole thing.

[chrysothronos]

Red scare au director's cut NOW🐣

if i had my way about it, they'd all be sent back to russia — a Red Scare AU and oh boy i love this au.

the red scare is kind of a special interest for me and i've always been frustrated that this fandom doesn't do a lot of, well, historical fiction. no one really delves into other periods and what they could look like very often. and i really think that period of american history is rife with untapped potential for me.

i really wanted to do something with it and @ficwip had a 5k running at the time and i spent forever trying to figure out what would work with the premise with only 5k words to use and in a way that would be impactful of different. i'm talking about i went through a lot of thought processes of elimination until i finally landed on this one. once i did, i set about finding something that really could nail the idea down in one one shot because i thought it would be just, well one.

we all know i am a longfic writer though and ofc that wasn't gonna happen.

i wound up writing the fic for the event first, the line between in a day or two but i finished it too early for the event. like, way way too early for the event. which was frustrating. that fic details a phonecall between darry and ponyboy in a way that's clear that they have friction both for ponyboy being the literal redheaded affair child (oops!) and for darry being genuinely concerned about ponyboy being in trouble with the government. his fears are real — and ponyboy is just as stubborn that he doesn't want to bend to a government he perceives as being incorrect.

hence the... three fics i wrote daily oops? i'm checking dates and i posted on july 27th, 29th, and the 30th. i have a lot of juice for this au in part because it's both a different spin on greekverse and because it examines some of the issues of canon in a very different way, it has a different viewpoint of the curtis parents, and it delves into a wild time period of the united states.

it's got a lot of things i like and i'll just touch on some:

having the curtises in oklahoma but the part that was direly affected by the dustbowl in the 1930s changes things hugely. by moving them there i could do something i've hinted at in trampsverse: that the curtis family were active bandits in that era, straight up outlaws that were a lot like bonnie and clyde. that changes how their children think and perceive of them and here they died guns blazing.

darry, soda, and ponyboy have a much more fraught relationship as the kind of poverty they experience is exponentially worse than canon. soda checks out due to the friction and thus isn't there to smooth things over between darry and ponyboy. this means some key moments in canon are no longer there ore have much darker versions of themselves playing out like when darry tells ponyboy to just get over the deaths, it's more tragic.

ponyboy actively seeks out his biological father, atreus and he's pulled into a more artistic family and one that's more accepting of him and his "quirks."

OG mafioso dallas. don't tell anyone but he is capo di tutti i capi here and his power is very different than it is in trampsverse. he also gets to be a single parent to chris and have a lot of kids with pony which i adore.

randy finally gets some fucking consequences for the first time in his miserable life.

[nossbean]

endless wips wherein i will restrain myself but a little: god please tell me about 2. LION HUSBAND and 4. TNAU no one asked for hello i'm asking for it 😘

💕💕💕 ! I talked about my dear Lion Husband here so let’s get into TNAU sequel no one asked for <3

TNAU is the acronym for Twelfth Night AU which is Alas, the frailty is to blame wherein Jaime and Cersei swap identities so Cersei can attend Jaime’s mens-only university to study politics and Jaime undertakes finishing Cersei’s degree at a women’s-only college in an otherwise men’s-only uni: this is all set in some quasi 1930/1940 Britain-ish version of Westeros. Ofc while there, it turns out “Cersei’s” roommate is Brienne and initial animosity turns to “oh fuck I think I fancy you but you think I'm my sister” in the vein of Twelfth Night, sorta. There’s a helping hand of the Amanda Bynes classic, She’s The Man, let’s be honest here!

This sequel takes place Later, as in, post the events of Alas, after they’ve sorted everything out. I can’t remember exactly what precipitated this fic — something Wasn't Great, and I wanted to write something unrelentingly kind, and I kept thinking about this bit from Alas:

In any case, the makeup [he’s put on Brienne] doesn’t work. He begrudges that it’s probably his fault, but it somehow looks like a lie on her face, a face made only for honesty. Jaime washes it off for her, he’s careful and gentle about it, and something about this makes Brienne tearful, and it breaks his heart

I’ve known why Brienne gets tearful here since writing it; even if Alas had become much more expansive, I’m not sure Brienne would have revealed what was going on there in any case. But while I was searching for something kind, I kept returning to that bit, to what was happening for Brienne, and what it meant in the context of Brienne-with-Jaime-who-was-then-“Cersei” and what it might mean later. So anyway, here’s the rough incomplete start of a fic that looks at that, set months, maybe as much as a year or more later (cw for recollection of child abuse):

'tis wonder that enwraps me thus

“Have you fallen asleep?”

With her eyes closed, Brienne only guesses where Jaime is by the dance of gentle light pressing on her lids and the mindful shifting of his weight across her hips, but Jaime’s face is near enough hers that his breath dissipates across her upper cheeks when he speaks. Demands, really.

Speaking is always the most awkward part. It oughtn’t be. Even when Jaime had been being Cersei, that first time they did this when Brienne didn’t know anything but that her deeply aggravating, incredibly unpredictable, inexplicably kind (in a sideways sort of a fashion) roommate was perhaps becoming her friend, when Jaime had done this — making himself comfortable, straddling her hips, curling over her with makeup and tools — his weight had been inexplicably soothing, just as it is now, and the various textures of makeup and application so gentle they mesmerised and mesmerise to the point of relaxation. Brienne had settled into it then, and she had been in a comfortable state now before Jaime’s question.

Pursing her lips in case the lippie isn’t set, Brienne murmurs, “No.”

Even to her own ears it lacks a convincing tenor for all that it’s true, and because regardless of how else he is metamorphosed, Jaime remains a pest, he singsongs, “Don’t believe you,” and twirls a makeup brush right under her nostrils.

Brienne doesn’t sneeze — congratulates herself — but she does wriggle and scrunch up her face, pressing back into Jaime’s pillow, and Jaime laughs as is his wont and Brienne fights a smile as is hers.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she says, more earnest and less annoyed than she means. “You’re always so—”

“Charming, clever and rogue-ish?” Jaime intones, and Brienne finally opens her eyes.

Quick to assume, is what she’d intended to say, but Jaime’s diverted her, changed her sentence, and it’s instead become, Stunning, which she manages not to say. By the pleased smirk that spreads his lips, he reads it on her anyway. His hair is shorter now, though curls catch gold from the lamp and tickle along his shoulders. His eyes are thick-lined and mascaraed, and she thinks it’s blusher heightening the colour in his cheeks, making his eyes deeper, highlighting sharp cheekbones, but she’s only still learning all this and it doesn’t readily stick in her head. Mostly though he looks unburdened most days and wears it well. Lively and bright, just as puckish as ever, but free. Despite herself she sighs to look at him and her hand drifts up his thigh. Jaime’s grin turns soft in that way that still makes her stomach flip.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she insists because, though he says it constantly, he’s right: she’s stubborn.

Jaime looks ceiling-ward in a well worn bid for patience she recognizes now as affection before dropping his face and giving a grandiose shrug to this. “If you insist.”

She scowls, he laughs, then ducks down to greet her up-tipped chin with a kiss.

“Hold on,” his fingers are light and careful then on her chin, gently keeping her in place. “Do this,” he says and opens his mouth a little, flattening his lips.

Brienne does as she’s told. Jaime draws his thumb across the skin under her lower lip and Brienne knows this action now: a little lipstick escaped outside bounds. Jaime’s face is so serious as he neatens his work but this, at least, is never as serious as all that. Brienne pokes her tongue out, catches the pad of his thumb just before it slides away. The taste is — mixed. The waxy stick of lippie dominates but she catches some of the tangy sweet of the orange she’d shared with him earlier, lingering or perhaps imagined. Her main prize is on his face anyway: a pleased uptick on the corner of his mouth, his eyes sparkling.

“I’m done anyway, take a look?”

This part mostly passes in a blur. Brienne asks questions, and she listens closely, but she can never quite wrap her mind around everything Jaime explains and describes. Mostly, for her, these moments are for her to watch as Jaime animates. He nearly always wears a smile but now the expression softens: less sharp, more at ease. The muscles around his lips loosen and that relaxation extends up to the corners of his eyes. Their green deepens. His voice goes quieter, a surprise to her, to discover this emotion in him lives close to his emotions around her, revealed in the slight rasp he takes on as he speaks ever more quickly, warming to his topic. It’s a different rasp, but near enough to what she hears in bed, or sotto voce in her ear when they’re in public and Jaime strives to create a beat where they two are alone, or when he greets her upon return to their room, Hello, chit. Jaime is beautiful always, but he opens as a butterfly from a moment of perfect stillness, like shaking off some sort of cold or rust or armour, and she knows it only happens with her, this spread of wings, luxuriant and warm and so vibrant she feels painted by some of his colour.

She feels badly that the details don’t make sense to her, and also sometimes gets the sense that he knows. That mostly he basks in her attention as though she is sunshine bright upon him on some leaf, keeping him warm in the knowledge that someone cares enough to listen and to take an interest.

And if she thinks on that for too long, her eyes will prickle and her throat will form a lump, and now is not the time.

He grins now at her, shining pride with no teeth, and she twists without thinking to tug him down into a kiss. He laughs against her mouth and she cherishes it and him and the way his hand comes under her jaw. It’s still strange kissing with lipstick — she knows and likes kissing him as he wears it but when she is the one who wears it…

A relief, when he murmurs, “Let’s get this off you,” and perhaps the primary reason she agrees in the first place.

She sets out the bits as Jaime fetches warm water. A ritual she yearns for, tries to learn from. She hasn’t told Jaime why, worries it will change his reasons or alter how he does it. And equally she knows that’s silly. If there’s one single thing she knows of Jaime, it’s that he takes things in stride, one more revelation won’t change that.

Brienne isn’t sure she has the words for it.

It had been so unexpected, that first time. He’d put the make up on her, and it had been a disappointment to see: she had thought perhaps it would make her appear more herself. Her face could be so harsh and Brienne never felt harsh. She’d imagined a softening, lushening, of her features. Jaime hadn’t managed that then, far from, and though he had recently, she found she didn’t mind overmuch any longer.

The shock had come when he washed her face.

She hadn’t in her life ever been handled so gently. Perhaps that isn’t fair: she can’t remember her mother but it is possible she had been kind. Her father hadn’t given her more than a supportive hand to her shoulder since she was seven years old, and her nanny… Roelle had not been kind. Roelle had not been gentle. Roelle had seemed only to have rough towels and rough cloths and a mean hold on Brienne’s chin as she scrubbed at her face: tears, snot, sweat. And Brienne, without realising, had learned that, too.

Roelle had not washed Brienne’s face in over a decade — Brienne had made sure of that. And yet until Jaime had held her chin in a light touch, wiped her cheeks slowly with care, Brienne hadn’t recognized that she was as harsh with herself as Roelle had been.

Jaime touches the tips of his fingers to her chin, exerts the barest amount of pressure to tip her chin up and then he smiles down at her. He hums, sometimes, as he does this. Sometimes he chats. Mostly though, he is quiet. He murmurs, “This is all right?” as he passes a soft cloth over her skin with gentle pressure. Tuts when she nods. She might try to answer but her voice deserts her, her heart takes up residence in her throat, and all she can do is sit and be cared for.

Endless WIPs meme

[kayfabebabe]

MIIIIIIIIIITCH

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

And I forgot what number this one was but have you everlearned any fun facts from researching a fic?

Annnnnnna! Thank you so much for the Ask <3 I'm so sorry that it's taking me this long to answer it. These got a little long so I put them beneath the 'Read More' break.

What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write? Oh, this is a really good question. There are TOO many ideas in my head that, probably, won't get written into full-length fics for whatever reason. The one that I've been thinking about lately is a "sister AU" to the Mob AU set during the 1920's/early 1930's at a small theatre with William and an OC of mine, Nellie.

The basic premise of the AU - William is a bare-knuckle fighter on the Blackpool promenade where he's been fighting since he was barely a teenager. It's a violent existence, but he's never known anything else. The only reprieve comes at the end of each day when William sneaks into the nearby theatre to watch the variety performance. Comedians, Singers, Dancers. They all take to the stage and captivate the entire audience, including William. However, the highlight of the entire evening is seeing the high-wire artist, Nellie Jones.

If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fanfic would you pick? I had to look through the list of my fics, but if I really had to choose one, it would be 'Like Mold' which is a part of the Dirtbag Boyfriend AU with Mox and my OC, Nicky. I love that AU despite the lack of updates to it and I would lose my mind seeing it being turned into something like a comic or a film.

Have you ever learned any fun facts from researching a fic? There are too many things that I've learnt over the years from researching for different fics. For example, the population of Katy, Texas is over 20,000. Will I ever use this information in my real life? No. But it's a random thing that, for some reason, has been stuck in my head since learning it.

~

[jacepens]

Expensive Mistakes

Intro: This is a longer one that I originally wanted to be a multi-chapter fic. It's a 1930s AU where George is a politician and Laf is a journalist. Without spoiling much, the first chapter takes place many years before the rest of the fic, but it is still very unfinished and explicit!!

Fandom/Tags: Hamilton, Washington/Lafayette, 1930s AU, explicit, George is an asshole, all the cheesiness you can expect from early fic writing

Don't forget, explicit stuff under the cut! (But you gotta scroll a bit)

Prologue

He first noticed the Frenchman at a quarter past eight. He had been there the whole night but George hadn’t noticed him until this moment. The moment his life would never be the same, at 8:25 on September 14, 1934. The moment George set eyes on him he felt his chest tighten and his face turn red and his stomach flip. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him, and the man quickly took notice, matching his stare. Then smiling and waving at him. George felt his face heat up as he snapped out of his trance and walked toward the beautiful man. Upon approaching him, he heard the man laugh and smile sweetly,

“Was there something you wanted?” The man seemed to be currently unaccompanied by anyone at this time. Everyone else was dancing to the quiet music that seemed so unimportant to him.

“I’m sorry,” George smiled, holding out his hand, “I’m afraid we haven’t been acquainted yet. My name is George Washington, I’m currently running for a US Senate position.” The man laughed again.

“You don’t need to introduce yourself to me. Everyone I’ve spoken with tonight has done nothing but praise you, I’m honored I get to finally meet you.” He met George’s hand and George felt his embarrassment from before take over his body as they shook hands. George couldn’t shake the odd feeling the man was giving him. “My name’s Gilbert, by the way, Gilbert du motier de Lafayette.” George couldn’t help but smile upon hearing his name.

“Wonderful. I assume you are from France, yes?” Gilbert’s eyes glittered. His smile was so cool and haunting.

“You’re correct.”

“So what’s a Frenchman doing at an American political event?” He said, gesturing, drink in hand, at the party unfolding around them as they conversed by the wall. Gilbert’s eyes lit up with passion.

“Oh. Why, I’ve always loved America and everything it’s stood for since 1776. It’s an honor even being in your country. Why, I just immigrated this year, against my entire country’s wishes,” he added with a chuckle. “In search of a life in the country I’ve always admired. Not to say that I don’t miss home, but I’ve yet to feel terribly homesick. Oh! I’m a journalist by the way. That’s why I’m here, friends with the Secretary of State.”

“So which is it? Here as a journalist or a friend of Cordell Hull?”

“Oh!” Gilbert laughed, “friend of Cordell Hull.” Gilbert’s smile and personality was infectious, it made him happy. Gilbert’s eyes seemed to have focused on something else in the distance, towards the party, relaxing his posture. George couldn’t help but stare at his...beautiful? Features. Yes. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. George cursed himself. This was not the first time he had found himself completely encapsulated by a man’s features, but he knew with his career, even the slightest of glances or touches and his life would be over. Gilbert turned to look at him.

“Something wrong, sir?” George quickly turned away, feeling his insides burning. He wasn’t sure if he liked Gilbert, or rather, the way Gilbert made him feel.

“No. Nothing at all.” Gilbert resumed his casual stare in the distance and suddenly said without looking at him, a wicked smile creeping over his face.

“That’s twice, you know.” George was left speechless and unable to rebuttal as Gilbert set his drink down on a table and cooly walked toward the dance floor, leaving George stunned and speechless, craving to be near him again. He suddenly resolved that he had to speak to him again, at least before the night was over, and learn more about him. He set his drink down next to Gilbert’s and quickly walked in Gilbert’s direction, not realizing he had accidentally knocked his drink on the table and in the process, spilled both his and Gilbert’s drink. He soon found Gilbert elegantly dancing with a lavishly dressed woman. He had a cool, nefarious smile on his face, his eyes gracing over George’s, his smile turning into a stern line across his face as he suddenly left the lady to herself and continued to the left, not giving George a second glance. George thought the behavior odd until George realized that some men were extremely sensitive when it came to their masculinity. But Gilbert didn’t strike him as that kind of man. But even so, perhaps the staring had scared the beautiful man. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time, but he couldn’t quiet the nagging feeling that was telling him that that was the wrong answer. Suddenly he felt a woman’s gloved hand grab his, and bring him into a waltz with her. The woman seemed slightly tipsy as she continued to step on George’s feet and stare at him with a gaze that made him uncomfortable and only made him want to see Gilbert more. He had no choice but to be courteous to the woman as anyone could be watching but surely no one would blame him for abandoning a foul woman like this. He quickly let go of her hands

“If you would excuse me, madam.”

“Why of course.” She purred. George quickly dashed away, heading toward the direction he had seen Gilbert go when he suddenly stopped. He was chasing down a man that wanted nothing to do with him. He forcefully steadied his breathing. Someone would notice something was wrong. Someone would notice him running after a young man who he had just met. He resolved to stay put, be a gentleman, and not think of Gilbert the rest of the night. Funny how such a small interaction had such a big impression on George’s demeanor. He calmly resumed his regular political rounds. But then he saw goddamn Cordell Hull, and Lafayette, standing next to him. Lafayette avoided eye contact with George. He tried his best to speak to Hull without thinking about the beautiful Frenchman by his side, until,

“Say, have you met my friend Lafayette here?” Lafayette’s eyes met his and immediately melted from cold to hopeless. And a smile burned across his face. George felt his chest swell again. He smiled.

“I actually have met him. Quite the remarkable man I do have to say.”

“Oh yes! Hasn’t even been in America a whole year and is practically fluent in English. He’s brilliant George. You two would get along nicely.” He patted George’s shoulder as he suddenly walked off leaving the two alone again. The first thing out of Gilbert’s mouth was,

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Gilbert looked at the ground with frustration.

“You know what.” He pouted. It made George chuckle. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in any way, so I’m sorry if I did.”

“Gilbert.” George gently grabbed his arm and looked at him with a warm smile, “you did nothing wrong. But, I want to know you better, I want to know what else about you is so remarkable.” Gilbert blushed and smiled. He was so pretty. The two stayed and sat down at a table and chatted the entire night, occasionally saying hello to the people who came near them. George didn’t know if it was him or the alcohol he was consuming but he felt he was dangerously close to Gilbert. And yet, he didn’t want to move an inch away from him. Before he knew it, he noticed people began filtering out of the room, servants cleaning up messes. The night was ending. George’s heart dropped. He didn’t want to leave Gilbert. Before he could think he suddenly blurted out, “I’ve got alcohol at home. And extra bedrooms, if you don’t have any accommodations for tonight.” Gilbert looked shocked. Speechless even.

“Well, I- I mean.”

“Oh my, Gilbert I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if you have plans, I completely understand.”

“No! I mean, no, I- I don’t have any accommodations. I would love to join you.” Gilbert smiled warmly and George cursed himself for inviting this wonderful man to spend the night with him. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice Gilbert’s hand on his knee.

—-

The moment they arrived at George’s house he felt his heart pounding through his chest. The whole way here, Gilbert had been extra...clingy. And he kept glancing at him like that foul woman had. But now George didn’t mind so much. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen but it was more likely than not that Gilbert would pass out on a bed, wake up ashamed in the morning and never come back again. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. He was grateful that he kept his home life extremely private. No servants of any kind. It was chiefly for this reason. He could never let anyone know what he has done before. Or, more so to speak, who.

“So, which room are you putting me in?” Gilbert teased. George held onto his arm and led him to one of his guest bedrooms.

“I think this one here should be suitable.” George said. Gilbert unhooked himself from George’s arm and took a look around the room. George smiled fondly. He was quite cute. Gilbert yawned and George realized how late it was. Gilbert sat down on the bed and moved to lay down, George chuckled,

“Surely you’re not going to sleep in those stuffy clothes. I’ll go fetch you something to wear for the night.”

“Thank you.” Gilbert muttered sleepily. George felt his chest ache as he took one last look at the darling little man, before he set off to find something for Gilbert to wear for the night. He found the circumstances he was in odd, did Gilbert truly have no accommodations elsewhere? And if so, surely he has other belongings besides the suit he was wearing. George was almost hoping Gilbert snuck a bag in here, making him feel even a little less guilty for having practically plucked him out of his normal life, simply to indulge in his odd fancies. In searching through his old things, he found some smaller, comfier clothes that could pass as night wear for Gilbert. He headed back up the stairs to Gilbert’s door, gently knocking on it.

“Come in!” A voice said. George noticed that Gilbert sounded much more awake. George opened the door to find Gilbert already undressing himself, his shoes in a corner, along with his coat and shirt. George felt his face burn as he eyed Gilbert. Gilbert beamed a delightful smile as he bounded up to George to take the things from his stunned hands. George felt embarrassed, like he could hardly move. It was just his bare chest but still. He looked at the ground giving Gilbert more privacy.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He heard Gilbert laugh.

“I was promised more alcohol.” George smiled and looked up to see Gilbert wearing the old clothes, a smile always on his face.

“I thought you might have had a bit too much though.”

“George, I really haven’t had anything more beyond a sip or two.” George recalled that he actually hadn’t seen Gilbert finish a single flute of champagne that whole night. He laughed,

“I’ll give you one drink, but after that you need to sleep. What would you prefer?”

“Surprise me.” A few minutes later George came back to Gilbert’s room with two glasses of whiskey in his hand. Gilbert hadn’t closed the door, and George saw him sitting on the floor in front of his bed waiting for him. George pushed open and sat down in front of Gilbert, handing him the glass. Gilbert smiled.

“I first had whiskey when I came to the United States. How fitting.” He observed, taking a sip. George noticed how Gilbert looked in the pale light, how the curls on his head seemed to light up, and how beautiful his neck looked when he drank, how altogether lovely Gilbert looked in the low lights compared to the harsh lights of the ballroom. Gilbert broke the silence.

“You know, you’ve been staring at me all night.” George blushed, looking shamefully at the ground. Gilbert laughed. “I don’t mind it at all George, but I’m interested in why.” Gilbert smirked. Why? Because you’re beautiful, that’s why. George had to think of something quickly,

“You’re just very interesting is all. You’ve accomplished a lot and it’s quite admirable.” Gilbert laughed loudly then settled down and said,

“I’m sure you say that to all the pretty boys.” George felt some anger rising in him, Gilbert was figuring out too much too fast. This man is a journalist and George had no way to prove his sincerity.

“No. That’s not what this is Gilbert. I know your type, you think you know everything about a person and you can write whatever you want, but I am not losing my career to the likes of you.” George spat. He felt regret curl up in his stomach the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth, but he was being too open, too sincere. And for all he knew, Gilbert was just a very skilled journalist looking for his next hit article. But surely that couldn’t have been the truth. George stood up to leave, ashamed he had said such a thing, but Gilbert suddenly leapt up and grabbed his hand.

“George please! I’m sorry, you misunderstand me. I’m not looking to stir up any trouble! I promise I would never publish anything against you, please, just stay. You’re so remarkable.” Gilbert hesitated when he said those last three words, and by the look on his face, Gilbert wished he could take them back, but there they were. George felt his heart ache with the desire to hold Gilbert close and kiss every last inch of him. This was a terrible idea. Inviting Gilbert here was a mistake. But there he was, holding his hand, unable to look away from his eyes. Gilbert’s grip suddenly loosened as he pulled himself away from George.

“I need to go.” Gilbert muttered softly, “I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.” Now it was George’s turn to beg.

“Gilbert, please, listen to me. I invited you here because I’m fond of you and wish to know you better. I’m sorry for the distress I’ve caused, but I must beg you not to leave. I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to see you again.” Gilbert smiled softly to himself.

“So you admit it then? You’re fond of me?” George swallowed and paused before saying,

“Yes.” Gilbert smiled brightly and bounded towards George, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“That’s all I wanted to hear.” He said simply. “You have made it impressively difficult for me to figure out if you’re fond of me or not, and this is basically what I do for a living!” Gilbert laughed and then paused, his expression changing as he backed away from George. “I’m just now realizing that I’m unsure of what you could mean.” Gilbert took a deep breath, “George, I want you to understand that when I say fond, I mean it in the more, illegal sense if you understand my meaning. I mean, I left France truly because I couldn’t stand the thought of being forced to marry a woman. I was told in America you can be anything, but I understand now that that’s not quite true. I’m sorry if I repulse you, and I’ll gladly leave you, but I.” Gilbert sighed, and put his face in his palms. “I’ve said too much.” George slowly moved to sit beside Gilbert on the bed.

“I don’t think you’re as clever as you think, Gilbert.” Gilbert let out a small chuckle.

“No. No, I am certainly not. But what I mean to say is-“

“Yes.” George cut him off, “I mean it in the exact way you do.”

“That’s wonderful.” Gilbert laughed, unsure of himself after accidentally spilling his heart out to George. But George knew exactly what he wanted to do as he gently grabbed Gilbert’s chin, and tilted his face towards his own and gently pressed his lips to Gilbert’s. Gilbert immediately relaxed against George, wrapping his arms around his side, bringing him closer. They parted for a moment, Gilbert breathing a little heavier than before, looking into George’s eyes.

“My god, you’re so beautiful.” George breathed, quickly wrapping his hands around his hips to push him down on the bed, resuming the kiss with much more fervor and need. He heard Gilbert moan beneath him and it sent chills down his spine. Everything this man did made him crazy. Gilbert temporarily pulled away breathing,

“George, what are we doing?”

“Do you not want to?” George said, running his fingers through Gilbert’s curly hair.

“Yes! I mean, yes I want to, but George think about what this could mean.”

“Gilbert, this isn’t a slight towards you, but this isn’t the first time I’ve slept with a man.”

“Oh.” Gilbert’s cheeks turned pink.

“Gilbert, you can just tell me if you don’t want this. I won’t be mad in the slightest, it’s not a big deal.” Gilbert sighed then said,

“I think I’m just nervous. I want to do this- believe me. But I’m a little scared.” George leaned down to kiss his ear and purr,

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, sweet thing.” And that was all Gilbert needed. He grabbed George’s face to kiss him again, but now he busied his hands by trying to get George’s stuffy suit off of him. Gilbert undid the buttons on George’s suit as he carelessly threw it to the ground, but then he struggled with the buttons of his shirt, which George quickly helped him out with, and soon, he was bare chested and kissing Gilbert again. Gilbert giggled at the sight of him and was taken aback whenever George went to pull his shirt off.

“It seems there was no use in that shirt anyway.” He teased. George busied himself by slowly beginning to kiss down his neck, nibbling on his skin causing Gilbert to gasp and grab the back of George’s neck. George smiled at him as his lips found his nipple, which he gently bit on, evoking a quiet

“Fuck.” From Gilbert as he ground his hips against George’s, causing the older man to growl. Gilbert moaned again as he felt George’s hand on his cock, teasing him through his clothes. Gilbert quickly took his pants off, with George’s help as they were thrown on the floor with everything else. George mouthed and sucked on his cock through his underwear causing Gilbert to curse in frustration. George laughed and began sucking on his bare cock to Gilbert’s delight. Gilbert squirmed and moaned.

“Wait George.” He breathed, pushing his head up, “I don’t wanna come yet, do you understand?” George smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Of course I do.” George quickly removed the last of his garments. He wanted to pleasure Gilbert in so many ways, but the beautiful man made it clear what he wanted. George grabbed Gilbert’s legs to place them on his shoulders and he felt Gilbert shudder beneath him. He paused for a moment to take in his breathtaking beauty. Then, he gently pushed his finger in Gilbert’s hole, making him whimper and breathe heavily. Gilbert didn’t say a word, but he sure made a lot of noises as he gently pushed in and out. He didn’t want to hurt Gilbert, and as pain staking as this was, he knew he had to be slow with it.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“Yes.” Gilbert muttered, biting down on his lip. “I can take more.” George chuckled.

“I know, but I want to make sure that I don’t hurt you. Just be a little patient, alright baby?” Gilbert smiled at the pet name and eagerly nodded his head yes. After stretching him out with two fingers for a while, George thought he’d be alright now. He slowly took his fingers out to Gilbert’s displeasure. He looked Gilbert in the eye for approval, which he quickly gave with the nod of his head. George bent down to kiss him gently, before pushing himself in. Gilbert immediately became much louder with his moans. He felt his nails dig into his back as Gilbert let out a hiss.

“Oh my god.” He breathed. George pushed himself all the way in and paused for a moment, letting Gilbert adjust to the feeling. He bit down on his lip, and looked George in the eye. His eyes were so beautiful and dark, and as wide as the moon. Slowly he began to move and Gilbert groaned, whispering expletives into the darkness that surrounded them. It didn’t take long for George to lose the self-restraint he had held onto for so long now, as he began to move faster. Gilbert grabbed at the sheets, his knuckles white, and his head thrown back. He could see the sweat on his chest, and the precum on his cock. He knew Gilbert would come soon, as would he.

“George.” Gilbert breathed. The bed was creaking beneath them as George began fucking him harder then he had all night. George was grateful he didn’t have neighbors of any kind, as Gilbert’s screams would have certainly woken them up. He began muttering words frantically, not even thinking as they spilled out of his mouth.

“Oh my god, George, you feel so good. Holy shit.” Suddenly before Gilbert was even aware, he came all over his chest with George soon following. George collapsed on top of Gilbert, pressing delicate kisses on his face.

“You did so good baby.” He breathed. It was the last thing he remembered saying before passing out over Gilbert’s chest.

—-

George woke in the morning with a sick feeling in his gut. The first reason being because he was too tired to clean himself up last night, the second being that Gilbert was still here. Wrapped up in his arms. Panic immediately began to fill his mind. Gilbert wasn’t supposed to stay, surely he understood to leave as soon as he could. He’d never had a man stay for the morning, and that was how it was supposed to be. Gilbert shouldn’t be here. He quickly got up, cleaned himself off, and put on some fresh clothes, all the while thinking of what to say to him. He went to the kitchen to begin preparing a breakfast, he didn’t realize how much time had passed until he saw Gilbert, fully dressed with his hair in a ponytail.

“Hi!” Gilbert smiled happily as he went up to kiss his cheek.

“Hi Gilbert.” George said uncomfortably as he pulled himself away from the Frenchman. He couldn’t have this man stay in his house for longer than necessary, he had to tell him. “Listen, Gilbert. There’s something you need to know.” Gilbert looked at him quizzically. “I guess I just assumed that you understood but, most men leave in the middle of the night.”

“Well I’m not most men.” Gilbert smiled.

“No, Gilbert I don’t think you understand, it’s not a good idea for you to still be here if you value your future. It was dangerous enough that you spent the night with me.” Gilbert frowned.

“You’re asking me to leave?” George sighed.

“Yes Gilbert. I need you to leave. now.” He said sternly. Gilbert looked disappointed, but not angry.

“Well let me get your address so I can see you again.” He smiled. George huffed.

“Gilbert. You need to go. Forever. I thought you understood that.”

“So what, you just use me for sex and then I never get to see you again?” Gilbert looked angry now.

“That’s kind of how these things work, Gilbert.” He glared.

“How was I supposed to know that?” He shouted.

“Gilbert, America isn’t as perfect as you dreamed it to be. If you value your future and your life here, I suggest you get out of my house this instant, and never, ever attempt to contact me again, do you understand?” He could see that Gilbert was holding back tears, his frustrations melting him.

“That’s not right.” He said meekly. George didn’t say a word, he needed to leave. “Well fine then. I think that I finally understand Americans and what they stand for. They work hard every day to be selfish and cruel a-and abusive to any other person they see as inferior!” Gilbert ran out the door, the tears flowing from his face in buckets. George breathed a sigh of relief. No one had ever made it so difficult before. It was best when they left at night because then he never had to say goodbye, and saying goodbye to Gilbert was the most difficult thing he had ever done.

—-

Chapter One

September 14th, 1938. It was a lovely autumn day outside in Washington DC. No more unbearable summer heat, and no cold temperatures to freeze your toes. It was George’s favorite time of the year, but he was forced to spend it inside the cramped office space. Over the past few years, life had not been the kindest mistress. George’s political career had taken a turn for the worse, amidst rumors of his sexuality (quickly ‘disproven’), sudden decrease in funds, and a war right outside of everyone’s door. No one was immune to the Great Depression, although George had assumed he was immune like everyone else. It had taken him a few years to get his bearings, but now he ran a small newspaper. By far, not what George was hoping for, but he had come to find a certain fondness in journalism. A way to stay connected but out of the spotlight.

“Sir.” He lifted his head from the papers on his desk to see Martha standing at his door.

“Yes?”

“Your new secretary starts today. He’s here, waiting for you, I’m going to fetch him in a moment so you two can meet.”

“Thank you Martha.” The sweet woman gave a small smile before leaving the doorway with small, hurried steps.

“Wait Martha!” He was hoping to learn the secretary’s name, for he had placed Martha in complete charge of the hiring process, but she was gone. He sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose, focusing on the pages of work on his desk. Normally, he liked to oversee all the people hired, but recently his work had become unbearable due to the expanding of the small print shop, leaving him needing a personal assistant and no time to hire one. Martha was a blessing to his world, she handled all the mundane tasks required with a smile on her face. He stretched, removed the glasses from his face in anticipation for his new co-worker. He couldn’t explain why, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach, making him hesitant to meet the man. First, he heard the loud, important clack of his boots from down the hallway. He saw his silhouette through the rough glass surrounding his office, taking note of the satchel at his side. Then as soon as he saw him step into the doorway, he felt his heart drop to his stomach, he felt his mouth dry, unable to produce a sound. Lafayette.

“No.” Was the first word the Frenchman uttered, his face full of anger and shock as he stood in the doorway, with Martha politely by his side. “No. No, no! No!” He quickly turned around and began walking towards the exit, shouting, “no! Martha, I refuse to work with that man! No, Martha, I will not just go say ‘hello’! That man doesn’t deserve my cordiality. No! Martha!” Gilbert hissed as Martha pushed him to his office entrance again. This time Gilbert didn’t bother to leave, just crossed his arms and glared at George.

“Hello Lafayette.” George said meekly, finding himself afraid of the man’s deadly glare.

“Hello George.” Gilbert hissed.

“Well, it seems like you two have a lot to catch up on.” Martha said, beginning to shut the door.

“Martha, wait!” George called.

“All due respect sir, but it will take me months to find you another secretary. So either, you two learn to get along or you do all that work yourself.” She said, gesturing to the stack of papers overwhelming his desk. George sighed as Martha shut the door, Gilbert never taking his glare off of George.

“W-will you sit down?” George said, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk. Gilbert, without saying a word, dropped his satchel to the ground, and very elegantly and somehow also angrily sat in the chair. All the while, mentally stabbing George with daggers. “So-”

“You dirty, rotten, bastard!” Lafayette yelled, suddenly leaping out of his chair.

“Lafayette, please.” George said, in a foolish attempt to calm his rage.

“Years I spent, wasting over you, years I spent, wallowing in self-pity, always thinking of you and that one foolish night! And you broke my heart for some corrupted selfishness! You-”

“Gilbert, keep your voice down!” George was now standing, staring into Gilbert’s passionate eyes. If he hadn’t been standing he most likely wouldn’t have noticed the tears forming in his eyes as Lafayette collapsed back into the chair, crying. “Gilbert I’m-” what? Sorry? Yes. No you’re not.

“Oh save it!” Gilbert snapped, raising his red, tearful face from his hands to scorn George. George found himself slowly sinking back to sit in his chair, watching as Gilbert buried himself in his arms and silently wept and shook. Yes. I am sorry. George wasn’t sure if he could remember a time where he had made someone cry, made them waste years of precious life, made them feel so much grief. He immediately felt a heavy burden on his shoulders he hadn’t felt when the day had begun. He had no idea Gilbert would have been this affected by what had felt like such a small thing to George, but it burdened Gilbert to his core. He hated that he had done this. He found himself scourning the self-righteous, powerful, narcissistic man he was, and wondered if he was still that man today. Gilbert. It all hit him like a wave, remembering glimpses of that night, his dazzling laugh, his sparkling eyes, his wonderful curls of hair, his cute frame, how had he already forgotten every wonderful thing about Gilbert? He was roused from his thoughts, by those same deep eyes, turned red and puffy, staring at him. 

“You said my name.” Gilbert mumbled very quietly.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, just a moment ago.”

“I- Gilbert if you don’t want to work for me, I- I understand.” George fumbled with his words, unsure of what he wanted to say. He heard Lafayette sigh.

“No. I can’t, this is the first job I’ve been offered in months. Martha was right, I- we just need to get along.”

“What happened Gilbert?” George asked very quietly, afraid of the answer.

“What do you mean?” Gilbert pouted.

“I mean, it seemed like you had such a prosperous life ahead of you, and for this to be the first job you’ve been offered in months, it just doesn’t seem right.”

“And I could ask you the same thing.” Gilbert huffed, “I assumed you would’ve been at the top of the world by now, but instead you’re here. Running a small journaling shop.” Neither of them said a word, silence began to overtake the two, as they reflected on what went wrong?

“How about this.” George said, clearing his throat and breaking the silence. “The work day’s almost over,” he paused, “we need to talk about certain things. How about we go out and I buy you a drink- at a bar near here.” Gilbert hesitated, and thought very thoroughly about his response.

“Fine. But you are only to buy me one drink, do you understand? No more.”

“Of course.” George breathed a sigh of relief, he was desperate to talk to Gilbert, but here wasn’t private enough. A bar at a good hour was just loud enough for you to talk about whatever you liked with no repercussions. They sat awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to do. When Goerge suddenly said,

“I can get us out of here- early. We don’t have to wait.”

“Perfect.” Lafayette mused as he grabbed his things in preparation to leave. George followed suit and led Gilbert out the way he had come in. Stopping at Martha’s desk George said,

“We’re heading out a little early.”

“Oh?” Martha chuckled, “did you bury the hatchet then?”

“Hopefully. Soon.” Then the two left, Gilbert standing as far away from George as he could.

Chapter Two

When the two arrived, they sat at a table in the back corner, George ordering himself his ever-favorite whiskey while Lafayette settled for a beer, which he hardly touched. George was unsure what would be the best way to go about talking to Gilbert and “burying the hatchet” as Martha said, so he started with what he thought would be the best thing to do. After a breath George began,

“Gilbert, I want you to know that when I met you I didn’t think about my actions and their consequences. I truly was a pompous ass, and I mean it when I say I’m sorry for what I did. Even though I know these words most likely have no meaning now as my actions have already been done and your life...changed, but I’m sorry. I really truly am.” Lafayette sighed.

“They certainly have meaning now as you very well could have spouted some bullshit about how you were protecting your career and what you did was necessary. So, even though it doesn’t change much I appreciate that.”

“If cussing me out would make you feel better, go ahead.” George said.

“What?” Gilbert laughed.

“I mean it. You started to at the office, and if you need to, go ahead. I can only imagine the kind of insults you had ready for me.” George smiled. A part of him wanted Gilbert to be rude to him because he knew he truly deserved it. When Gilbert had called him a bastard, it had almost brought some relief to him for someone to finally tell him he was a bad person. He hoped it would have the same sort of affect on Gilbert. Gilbert chuckled,

“Well now you’re being a little sweet, I don’t think I want to.”

“Come on, Gilbert!” George smiled, “at least tell me something you wanted to call me.”

“Wet sock grifter.” Gilbert growled before he began to laugh loudly. “It sounds so silly to say out loud, doesn’t it? I’ve missed the english language.” George smiled,

“That is certainly something I’ve never been called before.”

“Good. I hope it took the spirit out of you.” Gilbert teased and George was reminded this wasn’t some idle fun chat between friends. He wished it was. Gilbert went silent, also remembering the weight of their reality.

“Would you like to tell me where you’ve been for the past four years?” George offered. Gilbert seemed to think before answering.

“I moved back to Paris, and my father forced me to marry some woman as soon as he heard of my arrival. She was sweet, but I just couldn’t love her, for many reasons. I found it difficult to love anyone.” Oh. George thought. “But she died of childbirth two years after I married her which was my convenient excuse to go back to America. Everything was different though. No one remembered me and no one wanted to hire me. If I’m being honest I’d rather be destitute in America than in France with a wife.” Gilbert sighed, “so that’s about it for my story.”

“I’m sorry.” George said meekly again. Gilbert huffed in frustration.

“What the hell did you expect George? I was young and foolish, I believed I had found love at first sight! You were my first everything George, then you just threw me out of your house! I had never felt so worthless or used in my entire life. I didn’t know the true realities of the world until you. Did you never think once about how you might affect someone George? Or did you really only care about yourself? I don’t understand how anyone could be so selfish, you fucking bastard!” And there it was, and Gilbert didn’t even looked liked he regretted it. Good. He shouldn’t have. George smiled.

“Thank you.”

“What?” Gilbert spat.

“Thank you, Lafayette. In 1935, rumors of my sexulity began to float and after that, my political career was ruined. It was shortly after this time of despair that I realized that all I did was selfishly use people for my own benefit and throw them away. I felt horrible, but I never saw any of them ever again and if I did they never had the guts to say what you just did. I needed to hear just how horrible I was, I needed someone to tell me what an ass I’d been because it’s what I deserve. I’ve gone for too long in my life living with no consequences, so thank you.”

“Oh wow.” Gilbert said. “That certainly wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

“Did it make you feel better to chew me out like that?”

“Yes, yes it did.” and Gilbert smiled.

“Good.”

“Well now I’m curious George.” Gilbert said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, giving him a teasing smile before continuing, “How did anyone find out about the men.” 

“I really wasn’t so good at hiding it.” George laughed.

“No you really weren’t!” Gilbert laughed. “I mean, you got lucky that I wasn’t actually just a reporter looking for their next story and finding a very interesting one in quite a handsome man.”

“Well it didn’t quite happen like that.” George chuckled, the small compliment not going unnoticed. “There may or may not have been an incredibly beautiful man at a friend's small party who I took outside to an alley to make out with when someone above  us in a window shouted at us and recognized me. And that was that.” Gilbert was laughing quite hard now.

“That’s what happens when you make out with every man you see.”

“I do not make out with every man I see, Gilbert.” George grinned. Gilbert was quite the tease and George was disappointed that he wasn’t truly learning about the man and his behavior until now, but he supposed now was better than never. George now felt he would be quite upset if he never got to meet Lafayette again as he was having such a delightful time in his company.

“Well,” Lafayette concluded dramatically, taking a big swig of beer and slamming it on the table, “I do believe I can tolerate working with you now.”

“Is that so?”

“I believe that I still hate your guts, but that your guts have changed to a much more kind and caring person.”

“That’s quite a strange way of putting it.”

“You know what I mean George.” Lafayette smiled.

“I appreciate that, Lafayette.”

“I believe I should be on my way now, George.” Lafayette said as he stood up and began to gather his belongings. “Thank you for this, I should like to do that again sometime.”

“That sounds wonderful, Lafayette. I’ll see you tomorrow.” George smiled, waving goodbye to the new Lafayette he was so excited he got the chance to know.

“Goodbye George.” Lafayette returned the wave and smile, and was off. God help me, George thought as he prepared to leave as well, because that beautiful smile still had the same effect on George as it did four years ago. This time was different though, and George couldn’t wait to spend more time with the lovely Marquis de Lafayette.

Chapter Three

When Lafayette arrived at his house, he immediately collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. He was feeling so terribly confused. Confused because his new boss was the George Washington, the man who had simply ruined his zest for life at age 21. Confused because he always imagined himself dramatically slapping George and screaming for hours on end about how selfish and horrible and mean the man was, but instead he lost the nerve. And most of all confused because George was so, so sweet to him and he hated himself for believing for a second that that man could change, but here he was. Lafayette was afraid that he was falling for the man all over again which was exactly what he didn’t need. He let out another big, dramatic sigh. 

“So you had a bad day.” Lafayette heard from across the room. He didn’t have to move from his very comfortable spot, sprawled out on the couch, to know that was his friend Alexander cooking dinner. 

“Oh Alex, you have no idea what kind of strange day I had.” Lafayette moaned, his words slightly muffled as his face was pressed against a couch.

“I don’t understand what went wrong, Lafayette, I thought you already had the job.”

“Oh no, Alexander,” Lafayette moved to sit up and communicate clearly with his friend, “I have a job. But you’ll never guess who I’m working for.”

“Al Capone.” Alex laughed.

“George.” Lafayette muttered sadly to himself.

“Wait hold on.” Alex said, setting his spatula down so he could focus his attention completely on Lafayette, “You mean the fucking bastard George?”

“Yes!” Gilbert flopped back against the couch and stared at the ceiling.

“You can’t be serious! How are you gonna work for that guy? Do you need me and John to kill him for you?” Alex looked deadly serious it almost frightened Lafayette.

“Alex, the worst part is that I think he’s changed. But I can’t trust him for a second, but the sad thing is I really want to.”

“Why on earth do you think he’s changed?” Alex demanded.

“Alex, he- he was so sweet. We went out to get a drink and just talk and he apologized and it felt so heartfelt and real but I’m scared he’s just faking. Ugh. But he was so kind!” Lafayette moved to cover his face with his hands.

“I bet it was just a ruse.” Alex grumbled, as he resumed stirring something in the crockpot.

“Oh, but Alex, it felt so different from the night I met him. I mean, he really did seem different and caring, but I’m just so hesitant to believe it.”

“I won’t believe he’s changed till I meet the man himself.” Alex hissed, “Pay attention to how he treats his subordinates, that could be an easy way to see through his bluff.” 

“I hope he’s not bluffing.” Lafayette muttered quietly, his face still buried in his hands. But also, what would it mean if he wasn’t bluffing? Would it mean he’d give him a second chance? Lafayette did not want to give that man a second chance, it’d be like saying it was ok for him to use so many people. But would it be ok if he truly felt remorse over his actions? If he truly tried to be the best person he could be and not be selfish? Should Lafayette give that a second chance? He did not want to, but a terrible part of him was dying to give him a second chance. A chance for real love. Maybe.

“You know Lafayette, I’m sorry you had such a bad day, but also John and I were gonna play Monopoly later and we’ll kinda need the couch.” Lafayette immediately shot up.

“You were planning on playing Monopoly and you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Alex?” Alexander just shrugged.

“Well I told you now.” Lafayette smiled. Maybe everything would be alright. His friends always had his back no matter what. He was truly grateful he had such wonderful friends. Their confrontation was cut short when John finally came home.

“Hey Lafayette!” John smiled at him as he put his overcoat on the coat hanger by the door. “Hey baby.” John winked at Alexander.

“John,” Alex started, “you’ll never guess who Gilbert’s new boss is.” John shrugged his shoulders.

“Al Capone?” Why the hell could these two practically read each other’s minds?

“Fucking George.” Alex hissed.

“Wait, really?” John asked, looked to Lafayette for confirmation. Lafayette nodded.

“But John, don’t worry about it. We talked some things out and he apologized a few times and I think I can actually tolerate working with him because I think he’s maybe changed a lot.” Alex grumbled at this. John sat down next to Lafayette. 

“Laf, I’m not worried about me, I’m worried about you. I find it hard to believe what you said as true.”

“John, trust me, I loathe giving him the benefit of the doubt, but he truly treated me with so much kindness today I was shocked. I mean I think I hate him less now because he’s made such an improvement. It’s odd and I’m worried it’s just another damn mask, but I’m hopeful.”

“Alright, Laf.” John said, ruffling Gilbert’s hair, “I’ll trust you, but you make sure to tell us if he does anything to make you uncomfortable or if he hurts you, understand?”

“I’ll kill him.” Alex added quietly to the side. Lafayette laughed.

“Of course.”