Speakeasy Valentines

For: hunterandcossack

Well guys, we've reached the end of our queue. If you didn't see one of your gifts, please let me know and I'll post it ASAP!

Thanks again to all those who followed and/or participated, and stayed tuned for more Speakeasy gift-giving shenanigans in the future :)

For: bara-brows

TEAM AC, FINALE

Valentine's Day, 2014

Nucky had invited his friends: Gyp Rosetti, Frankie Yale, George Remus, and AR and his bitches. They were seated at a round table, each glued to their phones—except for Arnold Rothstein, who was drinking tea. Nucky sighed loudly. “I give up. I still can’t get passed twenty-five.”

“That’s nothin’, Nucky,” Gyp grinned widely. “I got a solid forty-two.”

“You guys are amateurs. I’ve got seventy-seven.” Frankie Yale beamed.

“Fuck you, Frank.” Gyp growled.

“That game is incredibly immature,” remarked Rothstein from behind his mug. Both Charlie and Meyer looked at him with a look that read oh fuck you. He’d been clean of it for weeks now, but that didn’t mean anything. Many-a-night had he not slept to try and conquer the fucking thing.

“Oh, yeah, Arnold? Why did you stop playing it?” Nucky gave him a pointed glare.

Arnold simply shrugged—

“Oh, I know why,” laughed a voice from the staircase. Mickey Doyle strutted down the stairs before smirking at AR. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Rothstein?”

“… I have no comment, Mr. Doyle.”

The tension was so thick in the room that one could cut it with a knife. George Remus cleared his throat loudly. “Well, Remus has been playing a cooking game… You can make hotcakes!”

BONUS:

“Hey, you still got that phone?” Meyer asked Charlie as they walked away from the Thompson estate.

“Yeah, why?”

“Give it here. Something on this device spooked AR.” And Meyer took it from him, only to go through all the apps until the hit the pictures.

Oh.

For: vanaldenthebaptist

For: bara-brows

TEAM NY, FINAL PART

“Wait, so you’ve bought an iPhone from Mickey Doyle for two million dollars?”

Meyer stared at him incredulously, disbelief written all over his features. AR cleared his throat and only shrugged in response. “It was necessary. He wouldn’t sell me the rights to the application, and that was the only way to achieve success.”

Charlie burst out laughing, unable to control it. “AR, you really are a schmuck sometimes!” 

“Now, now, Charlie, play nice.” Meyer scolded, but he couldn’t help but smirk.

AR’s cheeks flushed. “Don’t you two have work to do?”

Charlie got up and grabbed Meyer by the arm, tugging him along. “Enjoy your game, AR. C’mon, Meyer, there’s a picture of a snake I wanna show you. Actually, it’s a snake eating another snake—”

Arnold was just about to press the widget for Flappy Bird when he accidentally twitched and pressed the photo icon instead. Perturbed, he scrolled past the many pictures of Mickey Doyle. Curiously, he pressed one—

“Oh my.” 

Doyle was naked, his erect cock tied with a bow. Across the chest of the picture read: “hope you enjoy the game, mr rothstein !!!”

He stared at it for a long minute before exiting the app and placing the phone down. Arnold pushed it away from him. “… Charlie, come in here.”

The Italian poked his head in. “Yeah, AR?”

“Please remove this phone from my presence.”

“… but, Doc, you just bought it.”

“I don’t care. Take it away.”

Charlie strolled in and grabbed it. “Well, okay.” He eyed him but then shrugged it off and walked off. 

For: ladidumm

what friends are for: a Charlie and Meyer fanmix for ladidumm.

track listing: 1) i want to hold your hand - the beatles 2) hernando’s hideaway - the johnston brothers 3) best of friends - pearl bailey 4) summertime - miles davis 5) gimme some lovin - the blues brothers 6) i’ve got friends in low places - garth brooks 7) the world is not enough - garbage 8) dude (i totally miss you) - tenacious d 9) just friends - charlie parker 10) i have but one heart (o marenariello) - johnny farrow, marty symes 11) that’s what friends are for - the jungle book

For: b-hind-ths-hazl-eyes

He’s a shadow slipping through her door at night, permitted with a timid knock and quiet “Come in.” It’s familiar now, if not expected.

His hands are never still in her presence until they’re tightly balling up her chemise or tangling in her flaming hair. That eye of his never settles on her own for but a moment before flicking away under his tightly furrowed brow. It even clenches shut, trying to shut her out altogether.

Sometimes it angers her till she drags her manicured nails down his quivering chest to leave trailing red streaks, just to see that eye recognize her. To make him realize just what he’s gotten himself into.

Other nights, she prefers it. There can be a comfort in the gaping space between her and the haunted man in her bed. The final gasp sends them both rattling with arched backs and clenched fists, and suddenly he’s again only a silhouette passing through and disappearing into the sound of soft footsteps down the hall.

For: newperspective-xo

For: deanobanion

Characters: Hymie Weiss

Walking down the street had become an inherently laborious task. Hymie did not remember that December had ever been so cold a month. But he pulled his coat tighter about his neck, buried his hands deeper into his pockets, and walked on. 

It was always nighttime that felt the coldest. Well, that made sense. Everything grew colder in the absence of the sun. His walking seemed to always occur at night, long after the grim, unimpressive grey-pink sunset, when there was but a faint glow illuminating the sidewalk as he strode home. As he strode to where he lived. Semantics. 

He would soon be twenty-seven years old. That thought rolled around his head, under the constant pressure of reflection, like a sore in the mouth that hurts to touch, but the tongue finds it anyway. Just like walking down the street, the number seemed insurmountable, too large to even conceptualize, yet too trivial to be worth any consideration at all. Because one number was just the same as any number, once he had passed the threshold of adulthood, and one walk was the same as every other. The sidewalk did not change in appearance. The sky stayed dark. The invincibility of youth and determination seemed as far away as the warmth of August, and Hymie thought he had finally learned something, learned what it meant to be an adult. 

He learned how to force a smile in the absence of a joke. He was trying to reinvent the sound of melodies, of quiet humming as careful fingers worked a pair of shears, but Hymie learned his sense of pitch had vanished. He tossed them aside— laughter and music— like the withered stalks that shriveled, turned brown, and stretched down towards the earth they longed to be one with once more. 

For: diagonallyy