#he's just lanky and quiet a real wallflower

[dallastx-rp]

Name: Greyson Moretti Gender: Cisgender male, he/him Date of birth: October 7th, 1983 (35) Sexuality: Heterosexual Occupation: Jazz Musician / Saxophonist Hometown: Dallas, Texas Neighborhood: Lower Greenville Time in Dallas: 35 years Faceclaim: Ryan Gosling

Biography

Perhaps if there was something more notable to write, Greyson Moretti’s birth parents would have more real estate in the body of his biography. A drug-induced night, an accident, a baby boy experiencing meth withdrawal of his own left in the custody of his grandparents - the only parents he ever really knew from the moment he was old enough to actually formulate lasting memories. He didn’t have parents to miss, because he was never aware of their presence in the first place - and thankfully, his grandparents made sure he never had a reason to feel an emptiness in their absence. Nana and Papa Moretti were the epitome of warmth, and - despite their age and lack of funds - gave Greyson so much love, support, and freedom to be his unique self.

From early childhood to his early teen years, Grey was always a bit of a wallflower, an oddball who never really found much relation among his peers, who were more interested in action figures and flag football - a stark contrast to Grey’s obsession with Miles Davis and the endless nights spent teaching himself how to play the harmonica, which turned into the piano, until eventually his passion stuck onto the saxophone. The young Moretti boy was completely enamored by music and eventually leaned on it to express himself, since communication through words wasn’t exactly a honed skill. It was his crutch to lean on when life became too deafening, his safe space to hide his true self from the rest of the world.

Despite his lack of proper socialization outside of the normal day-to-day of school, you could say that all-in-all life was pretty good for Grey, rather uneventful in terms of major change or trauma until the summer before his senior year. Gone was the baby fat, the lanky posture and short stature, and with that went the ease of being practically invisible to members of the opposite sex. Soon enough, he found himself genuinely interested in a girl with big, blue eyes and long blonde hair, who absolutely mesmerized Grey from  across the classroom and somehow making popping spearmint gum a sensual experience. Mia Jameson had Grey under her damn spell and she didn’t even know it.

As you can probably imagine, it took Grey until just before graduation to even speak a single word to the girl who he assumed was ignorant to his existence as anything other than classroom furniture. She was the girl all the guys had the hots for, the girl all the girls wanted to be friends with, but she couldn’t have been more unaware of her status… or rather, uninterested in it. So when Grey finally did pipe up and introduce himself, awkward as it was, she did not laugh in his face. When he told her she was beautiful, she giggled. When he offered his salutations, she just smiled, grabbed his hand, and pulled him under the bleachers to have a little fun.

The summer that followed was a complete whirlwind - Grey had never felt anything like he felt for Mia. When she left for college and he stayed home to work in his grandparents’ restaurant, he missed her like crazy while she dated around. She’d return every summer and things would pick up right where they left off - intense feelings, amazing sex, and earthshattering fights. When she graduated, they ran away together to the county courthouse and slapped some wedding bands on their fingers.

Less than a year of less-than-newlywed-bliss later, Mia found out she was pregnant and Grey found out he was going to be a father. The two were frightened of parenthood, but Grey reached his acceptance the moment Lillian Rose Moretti was born. However,  Mia struggled with feeling connected to little Lily during the entire first year of motherhood - she resented both Grey and the baby as she continued to suffer from postpartum depression. Before Grey knew what hit him,  the marriage was done, his wife was gone, and he was left with all the responsibilities of a single parent.

It has been over a decade since Lily was born and Grey is still trying to figure out how to be a proper father to a preteen girl who is mostly without a mother or strong female figure. While Mia makes her appearances here and there, she is by no means a stellar mom and not even Lily thinks of her as such. The relationship between Grey and his ex-wife is stable now that he’s had the time to accept her for who she is. He’d probably even consider her a “friend” if he was to think about it, as Grey is never one to harbor resentment for others’ shortcomings - no matter the fact that all that weight fell upon his shoulders alone.

Currently, he’s struggling to juggle fatherhood, hustling to find gigs and playing the Twilite Lounge 6 nights a week, and taking care of his ailing grandfather whom he and Lily currently reside with. However, as difficult as finding balance may be, Grey does his best to be optimistic in the face of pressure - things could always be worse.

Personality

Greyson Moretti is the embodiment of good nature, and while he is quite resilient to negativity, has a deep-rooted issue with others being mishandled in a way that is harmful or unfair. Keeping the peace and staying far away from conflict comes naturally to Grey and with that comes the tendency to give and give and give and not get much in return. Albeit reserved when it comes to his true feelings, he can pretty much talk to anyone and is never afraid to get deep with people who are on the same wavelength as him. He is afraid to show his cards too soon and will almost always take a long time to make crucial decisions and think through his emotions before communicating them. He wants everyone around him to be happy and fulfilled, even if he isn’t quite there himself.

Aesthetics

The smell of fresh tobacco, a sad saxophone melody, dark under eyes, whistling while walking, cluttered desk, quiet classic vinyl on a sleepy Sunday morning, calloused fingers, hands in pockets, slow dancing in the living room, jingling keys, train stations

— Greyson is penned by Admin Emm.

#greyson moretti #male #lower greenville #ryan gosling #city rp #*residents

[letsprayitwritesitself]

Could you do some angsty javid? Canon era maybe? With a kiss somewhere in there? I would love you forever

(thank you for the prompt!! this ran away with me but what’s new. hope u like!)

He slid down the wall until he was crouching and then leaned forward, resting his forehead on his knees. He was sure he was going to throw up. He was either hallucinating, having an extremely vivid nightmare, or his friends were playing a prank on him - that, or he had actually seen his Jack kissing Katherine.

The cheer that had exploded from the guys when he kissed her expanded and distorted into a roar that Davey couldn’t scrape out of his head. He tried pressing his hands over his ears, singing loudly inside his head, anything, but it was there, accompanying the image that was scalded onto his consciousness. In an attempt to convince himself that he hadn’t imagined it, that he wasn’t pulling him and Jack out of thin air, he forced himself back to that morning, when he and Jack had -

It was when the rest of the kids were going wild, spreading the banner around town. Jack and Davey had done their share, scattering the news all over, sharing a triumphant grin once Jack had handed over his last copy to some teenager wandering out of a factory. The sun was almost done rising, they had barely slept, and both were high as a kite.

‘Time to go see if word’s reached the big man?’ Davey had nodded towards uptown, knowing that all this effort had been geared towards Jack being able to laugh in Pulitzer’s face. Jack nodded, then shook his head.

‘Yeah. No. Not yet.’ He looked a little frantic, unnerved. He grabbed a handful of Davey’s shirt - why was he always doing that? Couldn’t just say follow me like a normal person - and dragged him down the nearest alley. The factory walls loomed, blocking out most of the natural light, and Jack deposited Davey in a kind of cubby formed from discarded crates. ‘Listen up. I feel like - I need to… Say sorry. For before. For taking the money.’

‘Jack, it’s fine. We knew that you -’

‘No, Dave. I was really gonna go.’ He kicked at the gravel on the ground. ‘I guess I thought I could just shrug this thing off.’

‘This thing?’

‘The strike. The guys. You.’ He looked up. ‘And Les. And Kath.’

‘Right.’ Davey pretended that he hadn’t just believed Jack was going to say something that implicated the two of them as a… never mind. ‘But you couldn’t do it?’

‘I guess I forgot how - this whole thing is bigger than me. It was, I remembered your pop. That kind of brung it back home for me.’

‘It’s bigger than all of us. Especially now.’

‘Exactly! And I just. I’m really sorry.’

‘Hey. Honestly, Jack, it was almost worth you leaving, just to see you come back, you know?’ Davey smiled at him. Jack nodded, and suddenly stopped fidgeting. Fuck it.

‘Dave, it was also - cuz… You got under my skin, there.’ There it was again. That almost-atmosphere, the one that descended whenever they accidentally made prolonged eye contact, or had a really impassioned discussion. That kind of mood that reminded them how on the same wavelength they were, how much they understood each other. Davey swallowed and stood up a little straighter, giving back Jack’s stare as good as he got. He didn’t know if he could say something, could acknowledge this, without risking a punch in the face. He was almost certain that he wasn’t making this up. But there was that little bit of doubt.

He thanked the heavens when Jack took a tiny step towards him. He was already backed up against the wall so the ball was completely in Jack’s court.

‘Dave.’ It was a near whisper. He reached out and placed his hand flat on the wall next to Davey. ‘Tell me to stop.’ Slowly, painfully slowly, he took another step so his whole body was aligned with Davey, inches away, any illusions about his intentions utterly transparent. When he placed his other hand on the wall, boxing him in, completely entering his personal space, it was Davey who leaned forward and pressed their lips together. 

This hadn’t come from nowhere but it was still a gorgeous surprise - Davey wasn’t exactly used to getting what he wanted. When he had those first stirrings of god-awful wrong thoughts about Jack, he’d tried hard to quell them, yet Jack had always supplied him with just enough physical contact and meaningful looks that the flame was never truly extinguished. This flame was up in full force now, and when their lips met, it compelled Davey to pull Jack in by his collar and grab his waist tight.

Like a dam broken they easily spent the next forty minutes in that alley, hands roaming, teeth clashing, breathless voices exchanging moans of names and expletives. Davey had never done this, any of this, before, and spent the whole time trying to ground himself, aware of how he was floating ten feet in the air, trying his best to memorise the way Jack’s lips felt on his own, on his neck, his jaw - they felt like a whole lot of too-good-to-be-true, and in the tradition of a kid who hadn’t grown up with a lot, he needed to make the most of it while he had it.

For Jack it had all fallen into place - he knew that the narrative of the strike was leading towards him and Katherine. And he liked her a lot. But how was he supposed to complete that arc when he had this damn kid standing in front of him, this wallflower who had basically managed to get an entire city on strike by accident? This raven-haired, hazel-eyed, lanky son-of-a-bitch who had noticed, just as Jack had, that sometimes when you thought you’d made a friend, or a selling partner, you’d actually stumbled upon something a lot better.

With a quiet smack they parted, resting their foreheads together, grinning like crazy, hot all over. Davey spoke first.

‘Jack, the thing - the thing is still happening. The. The strike.’

‘I know. I know.’ He pressed another kiss to Davey’s lips. ‘How long we been here?’ 

‘Days.’

Jack stepped away, and they both started trying their best to right their appearances, straightening collars, tucking shirts back in, though it wasn’t so easy to get rid of the blushes painting their cheeks. ‘We’ll come back to this later, alright?’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

And then Pulitzer’s office. Then Roosevelt. And even more exhilaration piling on top as they actually won the god damn war, and - Jack planting one on Katherine in front of the entire city. And Davey knew, or he would see later on, how conspicuously devastated he must have looked, backing away slowly when it had happened, ducking round the side of a random apartment building for a quiet breakdown. He could see how, for someone less invested in the outcome of their relationship than he was (so, all of the newsies, all the adults, everyone else in the god damn world) how satisfying it must be to see the hero of the hour matched up with the beautiful heroine, but - but it wasn’t fair. It was wrong. They hadn’t seen, didn’t know - and couldn’t know, that was the kicker. They could never know how there was something way heavier, way more real, going on between Jack and Davey. He may be infatuated but he didn’t have any illusions about whether or not he and Jack were about to embark on the public love story of the century. All the same - Jack had promised, he’d said that they would - that they could…

He couldn’t cry. That was one thing he god damn couldn’t do. Collapsing in on himself like this in public was bad enough, but he could kid himself that this was an almost-rational reaction to the noise or the emotional exhaustion of the strike. If he cried, that was a whole different thing, and if he was caught crying? Oh boy.

He decided to let himself wait until the sinking sensation in his stomach had dissipated. He waited, and waited, and waited. The noise of the crowd got dimmer and dimmer. He sat on the ground, back against the wall, staring up at the block of sky he could see. He’d have to get back out there eventually.

He heard the footsteps first, then a soft voice. 

‘Dave.’

And all the anxiety he’d managed to force away came back in excess. This was dumb. They’d had, like, an hour of passion. That was it. Why was he getting so emotional about it? 

(Maybe, he argued with himself, cause that one hour had come from a validation of days full of wondering if their connection was a connection, and an affirmation that Jack noticed him, and saw him, and liked him.) 

Jack walked over and sat next to him, hip to hip. Davey forced himself to smile.

‘Hey.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You got nothin’ to be sorry for.’

‘C’mon, Dave. I see you.’

‘Can you blame me?’

‘No - it was a dumb, spur of the moment thing.’

‘We shouldn’t have done that, earlier -’

‘Why not?’

‘Cause you and Katherine, you make sense, we’re just…’

‘You don’t think you and I make sense?’ Jack nudged Davey’s shoulder with his own. 

‘It doesn’t matter. You just kissed her in front of everyone we know.’

‘I know. It just felt -’

‘Right?’

‘No! It felt like what I was supposed to do, alright? God damn it, I wish I hadn’t.’

‘I wish you hadn’t.’

Jack heaved a deep sigh. He could have just not kissed her. But she was there, and they’d won, and she was a girl, and he was the leader, and…

‘I still like you the best, Davey.’

‘It doesn’t matter! Look, we can’t… do anything, or be anything. You might as well just do what you have to.’ Davey started to let the anger in his stomach well up. It was better than feeling sorry for himself. 

‘You really saying we can’t be anything? Were you even there, in that alley this morning? Cuz it sure felt like we were on to something.’

‘You know what I mean, Jack! I mean that you should be with her, because that’s what’s right, and that’s what makes sense, and I’ll just be alone.’

‘You’re not alone, Dave. I’m not gonna let you be alone.’

‘Well, maybe not everything is up to you.’ Davey started to get up, but before he could stand Jack pulled him down by his hand, a sharp tug that saw Davey land on top of him. His knee scraped painfully on the ground but he took no notice, because Jack had leaned up so their lips crashed together. 

For a few seconds Davey let himself relive their earlier dalliance, stroking a thumb over the rough stubble on Jack’s cheek, noticing the way Jack’s mouth fit his, how tight Jack was gripping his hand, but once those few seconds were up he forced himself away, glaring at Jack as he stood up and brushed himself off. Jack, wide-eyed, breathing hard, looked utterly tempting, but Davey couldn’t get rid of that image of him and Katherine.

‘I gotta find Les and start selling.’ He took a step backwards and turned away, almost out of the alley by the time Jack replied.

‘This isn’t over, Dave.’

Tears sprang into his eyes again and he took in a deep breath to try to get rid of them. He knew Jack was right.

#newsies #newsies fic #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #this request was exactly what i needed thanks anon #side note i still like you the best davey is probably my favourite thing i've ever written fuck i love lovelorn jack