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the-kr8tor · 3 months

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In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane.

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Vampire hunter! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: You, an amateur vampire hunter, find it really hard to kill the one vampire you were tasked to kill.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), same universe as the WWDITS series, CW blood, TW violence, CW suggestive, Mockumentary AU, established relationship, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @al1x00 (ly fr) for the idea! Happy 1k! 🫶 (Enjoy my attempt at humor lol)

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Hobie's Masterlist

The camera focuses on a leather clad man sitting on a patchwork armrest. His long leg is crossed over the other, metal clinking against each other when he moves. He places his elbow on the armrest, hand under his chin, ringed fingers tapping on his cheek—bored and clearly disinterested. Red eyes lined with dark eyeliner, piercings glimmering under the camera lights, sharp nails painted, he makes the crew suck in a breath.

He's the perfect picture of a rockstar.

The dimly lit gothic home provides the perfect backdrop to the ‘confession booth’, various books, knick knacks from far flung places are littered all over the living room. A grand piano stands proudly to his left, dark oak polished and well taken care off. Tapestries from the sixteenth century are tacked on the walls next to seventies and eighties band posters. His coat rack is full of jackets that look like they come from different times in history.

The producer nods at him, asking for the man's name, his voice just above a whisper so that the microphones don't catch the sound.

He sighs, jaws tighten for a second. “Name's Hobie, Hobie Brown.” His voice shakes the crew's bones. The blond haired producer clears his throat and Hobie rolls his eyes like a spoiled celebrity. “And I'm a vampire.” he says flatly.

The blond gestures for him to continue, asking him how old he is. “Fuckin' hell.” Hobie says under his breath. “Were you not taught manners? Come off it, you don't ask a vampire their age.”

The clipboard holding man, who pretends to be important, asks him why he agreed to the interview if he's so disinterested.

“Fine,” He smiles, showing his sharp fangs, the simple act makes the documentary team's heart skip a beat. “Before you say ‘m following a trend of vampires givin' interviews and a ‘peak behind the cape’ like the wankers in staten island or the lovebirds in dubai. ‘m not, ‘m only doin' this because,” he points dramatically at the clipboard holding man. “Your director told me all proceeds from this goes to charity. And it better be—”

Something thumps outside. The camera sharply turns to the closed floor length curtains.

“Oi, eyes back ‘ere.” Hobie exclaims, the camera whizzes back to his figure. “Again, vampire, been alive for…” he inhales, “a long bloody time. Been a pirate, a cowboy, hell even a rockstar. But always an anarchist.” He says proudly. “I've been rebelling against the one who bit me for centuries,” the camera zooms in on his scowl. “Hate that knobhead.”

Something falls right outside his windows, a groan and a curse sounding out, voice muffled by the walls.

The crew expects Hobie to hiss or even deal with the intruder but he smiles, posture loosening up.

“That,” he points at the source of the ruckus. “That’s a vampire hunter.” Smiling, the crew could hear a muffled ‘fuck you’ behind the walls. “She's been hunting me for a few years now. She—eh, hasn't been close.”

The cursing was louder, camera swishing towards the source, your angry face peeking out from the curtains. The boom mic captures your annoyed growl clearly as you place your face as close as possible on the glass.

“Fuck you, Hobart!”

He chuckles as the crew's face grows with concern. “Don't worry, she's—I guess bad at her job. She's interestin’ though. Y’know what, let me just show you.” He stands up, the cameras and the entire crew follows him through the hallways of his home.

The cameraman almost trips on a stray guitar on the floor. “Careful now, that was a present from some rockstar in the seventies. That's why I leave it on the floor, it works best as a boot scraper.”

Hobie stops in front of double doors, scenes of a love story are carved on the wood.

“It was a gift.” He addresses the doors, “not my first choice but where else would I put the bloody thing?” With a small push, hands braced on both doors, he reveals the expansive room lined with hundreds of paintings and photographs.

He sucks in his teeth. “The entire house is a gift, I'd rather live in a boathouse honestly but this works fine I guess.” Shrugging, he points at the oldest looking wood carving hanging on the wall. A man kneels in front of a woman, rose in his hand as she looks down at him with glee.

“Yes, that's me courting. The wood carver fucked up the scene though, it was more like me ravaging– uh” he clears his throat “…this won't show in pbs right?”

The people behind the cameras shrug as Hobie looks to them for an answer.

“I'll tone it down then, for the children, just in case.” He continues down the lineup of pictures.

Stopping by a large painting of what looks like Hobie in medieval clothing. The painted version of him is surrounded by flowers and trees. His antlers protruding from his head, webs clings to his arms.

“This was when people thought I was fae.” He makes a face, “everyone was tripping on shrooms back then.” walking towards the middle of the room, passing by a few more paintings and tapestries, He pauses on a yellowed painting of a woman who looks similar to you, only less angry.

“Look at her,” sighing, the vampire has heart eyes while looking at the painting. “this was before she was cursed by that bitcharse jealous witch. Now every descendant of hers is cursed to never harm me or any of my spawns, which is bad because they all think I killed their ancestor, and all they want is to kill me. A consequence of dating a vampire hunter during the fifteenth century, I guess.”

“The curse is a two way street, they can't kill me, I can't hypnotize them. It's not that I want to anyway.” he continues.

Another ruckus echoes throughout the house. Hobie smiles again. “I believe she doesn't know about it, so hush, yeah?” He does a double take. “Wait, can you cut that part out?”

—

The second crew runs towards you as you climb the tresses of the house. The camera lens zooms in on your clumsy climbing. Looking down, hearing leaves crunch underfoot, you yelp in surprise.

“What—?!” Losing your hold, you fall on a bush, landing directly at his wild flowers. “Ow! Who the fuck—?!”

—

Now sitting down on a lawn chair, leaves stuck in your hair, face and clothes covered in dirt, you scowl at the producer behind the camera.

Sighing, clicking your tongue, you answer their questions with another question. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

You raise an eyebrow at the words ‘documentary crew’ uttered by the producer.

“Seriously? Who would want to interview Hobart? Scratch that, is it because of those fuckers in staten island?”

A cameraman answers, ‘for charity.’

You blink in surprise, “charity? You fuckin' kidding me? Well if it's for the kids then.” sighing, you resign, looking directly at the camera with disdain, you say your first name. “And I'm a vampire hunter, I mean obviously I am just looking at all the stakes and holy water strapped to me. I look like I'm very fun at parties.” You say jokingly, “and church, probably. Dunno never been.”

The camera cuts back to Hobie still in the large room full of paintings and memorabilia.

“— I didn't do anythin’ wrong. They're absolutely mad at me for no reason—” he stops, thinking. “But I guess I was the reason their family was cursed innit?”

He changes subjects, showing the camera a painting near the end of the room.

“Oh this? This is when her great great great great grandfather almost got me, memories huh? He was mighty fit.” The crew zooms in on a gorgeous painting of a man trying to put a stake through Hobie's heart while he smiles up at him like he's smitten.

“Good times.” He chuckles.

—

“Fuck this.” You say, standing up from the chair, grabbing the mic off from your shirt abruptly. The camera follows you as you grab the lawn chair that you were just sitting on. You then proceed to throw it at a stained glass window. Giving you entry to his abode.

“It was gaudy anyway.” Entering the house, your shoes crunch the broken glass.

—

“Huh, she's inside. That's a record.” Hobie says almost excitedly. “I'll show you the rest of the room after this—.”

The double doors burst open, the camera swivels to you and the camera crew behind you. Holding a stake, you scowl at Hobie.

“Hello, darling, how was your commute?” He genuinely smiles.

“I have a car now, fuck you!” You lunge at him.

Lightning fast, he grabs your wrist right before the stake kisses his chest. The camera crews film on the sides, avoiding getting hit themselves.

“Good for you, finally saved up then?”

Lifting your legs, you kick his chest, you tumble, landing on your feet, staring at him menacingly. “Yes! It's a kia!” you scream before you run full speed at him.

“You got a good deal on it? Automatic or manual?”

“No!” You swing at him, he dodges. “I think I got swindled!” Kick “And it's a manual!” Punch “I’m not a pussy!”

Hobie clicks his tongue, avoiding the pointed edge of the stake. “Point ‘em to me, love, maybe I can get you your money back.”

Stepping back further away, you pause while he stands at the end of the room. Changing your hold on the sharp wood, you throw it at him, he leans slightly, dodging the projectile. it hits the wall right next to your ancestor’s portrait.

“You'll just drink him dry like the last guy!”

He shrugs, making a face that makes you want to punch him harder. “Not my fault he was a knobhead.”

You bounce on your feet, pouncing at him. “He was my dentist!”

He moves to the side, seeing you running towards one of the paintings, in danger of getting smashed by you. In his panic, he raises his arm to stop you, accidentally clothes lining you. His wall-like arm hits you right on your face.

Falling harshly on the floor, you're completely unconscious.

Hobie looks at the cameras with concern. “Shit.”

—

You wake up on an ancient looking couch, it's soft despite its appearance. Lifting your head with a groan, headache punching through the back of your head, you grimace loudly at the camera crew still filming in the corner.

Falling back on the couch, you hide your flustered face with your arm, pulling the blanket further up your chest.

“I promise I'm not that bad at fighting.” You murmur, still hiding your face from the cameras. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

Hobie suddenly appears with a whoosh, he holds a metal tray with tea and a hot compress placed on it.

“Who's giving you a bad time?”

You audibly groan. “No one.”

He places the tray on the coffee table, sparing a quick glance at the camera. “I caught you lackin’ you're not always that bad. Tea?”

Wordlessly reaching up, you flip him the bird. Hobie smiles softly, tapping your legs to give him space on the settee. The documentary crew is surprised that you actually move to give way to him.

He sits by your legs, preparing your tea just like how you always take it. Two sugars and a dash of milk. The entire production staff is perplexed to say the least.

With a clink of the tea spoon against the cup, you sit up, wincing slightly. “Can I get another sugar cube?”

Hobie raises a brow, “it's that kind of day huh? What's bothering you, love?”

You scoff, taking a cube for yourself then plopping it in your tea cup. “Nothing.”

He flicks his eyes at the camera with a knowing glance. Resting his elbow atop his thigh, chin placed on his hand, he pokes at your leg using his foot. Wordlessly having a conversation. With a sigh and a frown, you sip at your tea.

“Ex kicked me out. Now I'm living with the family again.”

Hobie's nonchalance drops, hand instinctively reaching out to you until he realizes what he's doing, he retracts his hand back.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. Their loss.”

“Mm-hmm, consequences of living with someone you've only dated for three months.” You finish your drink in one gulp. “‘sides, I don't have to pay rent anymore.”

“You've got shitty taste in partners.” You snort, half agreeing with him. “But you have to live with your psycho family so there's that.”

You laugh, the camera zooms in on Hobie's pleased expression.

“They're tolerable now, mellowed out after they took out count Belois.” You look at Hobie, copying his position like a mirror.

“He was an arse, did all of us a favour.” he stares at your eyes while the camera continues to film, yet you two don't seem to notice them anymore.

“Yeah, wish I was there though.” You say in a small voice. “They never invite me to those hunts. Always left watching outside.”

Hobie reaches towards you again, this time he actually holds you. Long fingers curling around your wrist, his thumb rubbing gently. “If only they know how hard you could kick.”

“You barely moved when I kicked you.” Chuckling, your eyes sparkle under the dim lights.

“Well it's me,” he inches closer to you in the seat, knee brushing against yours. “But if it was any other vampire out there they would have flown.”

You scrunch your face. Laying your hand down to your thigh, Hobie intertwined his fingers around yours properly this time. The camera captures the confusing scene.

“Because they turned into a bat?”

He grins, showing you his teeth, you don't even flinch. “Nah, because you kicked ‘em too hard. Did you hit your head that hard?” Knocking his knuckles against your temple softly, you move back like lightning has struck you.

“No, I'm actually okay, thanks.” You take your hand away, eyes flitting nervously at the camera then to Hobie. “I gotta go, dinner with the psycho family.” Standing up, you take your belongings from the floor. “You know how it is.”

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression, “yeah, I know how it is.” He says forlornly.

Patting his shoulder awkwardly, your hand lingers for a half second. “Bye,” you stare at the crew in the corner, “bye to all of you, I guess. Don't get eaten.”

The camera pans towards Hobie who just shrugs, fangs poking out of his lips.

—

Hobie eats alone in his empty dining room. The table is long, made of strong narra, designed to sit a dozen or so people. He sits in the head of the table, utensils scraping against the bloodied plate. His goblet is full, untouched.

He looks up at the camera on the other side of the table, observing his every move.

“The table's a gift too.” He says before continuing to eat silently.

—

The camera follows Hobie throughout his day. Roaming aimlessly around the house, he floats above the ground, hand and feet sticking on the wall while he dusts pictures that's placed on the highest shelf.

In the afternoon, he writes music on his piano while he flashes back and forth towards the drums and guitar, testing the music he wrote.

The crew captures Hobie burying something in the backyard. Jacket off, tank top and bare arms in full display. Moonlight illuminating his skin. His necklaces clink together as he shovels in dirt, packing the hole in tightly. The producer asks something about familiars and Hobie scowls at the word.

“No, just no. ‘m fully against havin’ familiars, it's fuckin' wrong.” He sticks the shovel harshly on the soil when the producer questions him again. “Ask me again and you'll be the one ‘m burying next.”

The camera shuts off abruptly.

—

The small supermarket's repetitive jingle from the nineties irks Hobie as he shops for some meat. But what irks him more is the documentary crew finding him especially after he went out of his way to hide from them.

He tosses a box of your favourite tea in the basket, annoyed at the team behind the cameras and boom mics. “Do the lot of you have a tracker on me or somethin’?” Shaking his head, he stomps down the aisle, heavy boots thudding loudly on the floor.

With his leather jacket plus all the metal and spikes on him, Hobie looks like a regular punk shopping for groceries. But if you looked closer, stayed too long in his presence, your flight or fight response kicks in, rendering anyone frozen on the spot.

His ruby eyes scan around the soap display, trying to ignore the cameras and people trailing after him, he gets a whiff of a familiar scent: strawberries and cream, it's you.

Hobie's feet move on its own, carrying him towards your direction. He spots you standing in the fruit section, weighing a watermelon in your hands, knocking on it then listening to the sound closely like you're trying to eavesdrop.

“What's the watermelon saying?”

“Christ!” You jump, dropping the watermelon.

Thankfully he catches it before the fruit splatters on the linoleum. “Just me, love.”

Clutching your chest, you take deep breaths. “I thought I smelled something rotten.” He raises a brow at your comment. “What are you doing here? This is far from your place.”

“First of all, I smell like sandalwood and fresh linen, fuck you.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “And ‘m tryin' to avoid them.” He points behind him, towards the cameras.

“Augh, they're still following you?”

“Apparently I signed a contract, it's not a one time thing.” He places the watermelon back to the crate, taking one that is riper and sweeter just for you. He then gently drops it in your cart, you nod a thanks.

“I told you before don't sign anything when you're drunk off of alcohol filled blood.”

“You're right, lovie, should've listened to you. Can't blame me when I only hear music whenever you open your pretty mouth.” He leans on your cart nonchalantly, giving you his signature smirk that has people falling over themselves for centuries.

“That's not much of a compliment.” You grimace, unaffected by his charm. “Listen, since we're in a public place I'm not gonna try to kill you so please get off my cart, I've got some shopping to do.” Shaking the trolley, he leans away, dismayed. “Also, the owner seems to like me, which is rare enough, so I don't want to ruin my relationship with the old lady. Shoo, Hobart, I'm off the clock.”

“You've got two people who like you now. One more than the other, I suppose.”

You narrow your eyes towards the vampire. “Who's the second one.”

Hobie walks backwards, arm wrapped around his basket, smile blinding everyone in its vicinity. “Me, darling, isn't it obvious?”

The bright fluorescent lights shouldn't do him any favours but by god, he looks amazing under it.

You don't answer, the camera zooms into your hands gripping the handles of the shopping cart, chest heaving, swallowing thickly.

He leaves, going towards the cashier to pay for his groceries. And you spot a sign that's labeled ‘50% off on garlic!’ you glare at the camera, pushing the cart towards the display.

—

Hobie sits on his work table, pieces of a TV are jumbled out on the table as he tinkers with them. His hands shake slightly, he should really feed.

“—‘m pretty good with technology, not like the other vampires. I've adapted well with—” he sniffs, “wait, what's that smell?”

He opens the door to find thousands of garlic circling around his house, “what—?”

“Tada!” You pop out from the side, hands carrying bushels of garlic, no doubt smelling like it too. “Wait, no, not tada, that's in poor taste because you hate them.”

Hobie gags at the smell, eyes watery and irritated. “This is a bad idea!” He rubs at his eyes, tears fully streaming on his cheeks.

“Why? Because it's working?!” You cackle, throwing the vegetable like confetti, one lands right on top of your head.

“Because it attracts—!”

You screech when you feel a sharp tug at your coat. A little green creature shrieks at you, the sound rings your eardrums, almost breaking the boom mic. Its eyes are dark and glassy, ears pointed, teeth sharp.

“A Goblin?!” Falling on your ass, you crawl backwards, watching as more and more of them appear from the bushes.

“I'm a goblin.” The one with a worn out party hat says, voice cracking like foil.

“What are you a Pokémon?!”

Hobie runs after you as fast as he can with the garlic hindering him. “Get inside!” He yells, dragging you towards the door. His hands sizzle atop your arms, the garlic searing his skin.

The creatures skidaddles towards you, towards the smell of garlic. Waves upon waves of green skitter and crawl on all limbs, eyes hungry, mouths agape.

“Hobie!” You hold on to his wrists as the ground scratches your back. Kicking an incoming goblin, you yelp as the door closes at the nick of time.

Claws scratch at the windows and walls. One of them even bangs its head hard on the glass just to get to you.

Hobie hides you behind him, eyes still stinging and skin aflame. “Get to the basement!” He screams when one breaches the house with glass shattering. “Go!”

Running down, Hobie lets you and the crew go first. He grabs a cutlass from the wall, chopping one that comes a little too close to your leg.

You look back at him with worry. “Hobie!”

“I'll be there! Just go!” He grabs one by the neck, throwing it away haphazardly.

It yells a faint ‘whee’ as it sails through the house.

Reaching the large basement, you search for the light switch, a cameraman beats you to it and you yelp at the sudden brightness.

The basement is full of things from different centuries. An iron maiden lays discarded on the corner, its steel rusted and brown. A sculpture of a woman sits on a shelf, it looks like it's a long lost work of Rodin. There's a large tapestry depicting a vampire war that is now collecting dust on the wall.

But the thing that catches your eyes is the massive metal cage that sits in the middle of the room. You would gawk but the swarm of goblins are nearing the basement. The familiar thumping of boots shakes you with relief.

“Cage!” Hobie grabs you effortlessly, you have no time to react as he carries you like a duffel bag by your waist.

The crew follows frantically, closing the metal doors shut behind them just as the swarm gets close. They shriek and bang on the bars, little arms trying to reach towards you.

He lays you back to your feet, dropping the drenched sword on the ground, palms still healing. He cups your face, searching for any injuries.

“You alright?” He heaves, out of breath, legs covered in goblin bites and palms searing but he looks at you like you're the one who's bleeding.

Staring at him with your irises blown out, mouth slightly parted, you embrace him to his surprise and the crew's.

“I'm okay,” you lean away before he could hug back. Hands placed on his shoulders, nails digging into him like he's about to be yanked away from you. “Are you?”

Hobie forgets about the other people inside the cage and the goblins trying to nibble at him. It's only you in his hands, even though the pungent smell of garlic makes his nose itch. Eyes tender, touch gentle, he could only nod.

“Yeah, I'm good now.” His voice lacks the usual charm.

You can finally breathe. “I thought…I'm the only one that's allowed to kill you.”

Chuckling, he traces your jaw with his thumb. “I know. You're first in line, darling.”

The crew stands near the sides awkwardly.

—

The goblins are trashing Hobie's basement, and based on the sounds from upstairs, they're also wreaking havoc in the entire house.

You sit back to back with Hobie in the middle of the cage, away from the bars, hands braced to your sides, his own are mere inches away from yours. He's glad that the garlic smell has wafted away from you, but not enough to get rid of the goblins still hankering for your flesh.

The crew stays away from the openings of the cage whilst a handful of the creatures try to grab at their equipment. It's been hours since the initial attack and everyone's getting hungry and thirsty, including Hobie.

“Why do you even have a dungeon in your basement—? Wait, scratch that, don't answer.” You try to pass the time.

“It was for your great great uncle—”

“Ew!”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says flatly, hands shaking from hunger. “I got it so he has a safe place to transform every full moon.”

“What? Huh, so that's why that branch of the family is so hairy.”

He changes the subject. “What were you thinkin’ with the garlic?” Hobie lays his head right on your shoulder, craning his neck to face you, he uses the closeness to memorize your face. His crimson eyes are dimmer than you're used to.

“I dunno, I thought it was a genius idea back then. Y’know, trap you inside, starve you then when you're weak enough I'd put a stake through your heart.”

“It's a good thing you're bloody fit.” He murmurs, chuckling quietly. “You almost got me though.” Your ears pick up the fatigue in his voice.

“And here I thought you fancy me for my amazing personality.”

“That too.” He smiles weakly, feeling the ache in his bones. “We need to get out of here.” His jaw visibly tightens, wanting to get away from you and your scent. Unfortunately it's not so easy when you're trapped.

“I know,” You sigh, Hobie sits up, covering his ears with the heels of his palms. “You okay?”

“I can hear your blood rushing through your veins.” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “Fuck, we really need to get out of here.” Standing up on wobbly feet, you help him up while the crew stands as far as they can without getting slashed by goblin claws.

“You're hungry.” You state the obvious.

“Starvin’” his red eyes flick down to your neck, already feeling guilty from the simple look.

You swallow thickly. “When was the last time you drank?”

“A couple days ago.” His vision blurs.

“Why are you starving yourself?” Scolding him, you guide him back down on the cold granite. “Hobart.”

“Why do you keep callin' me that?” Cold hands against your own, his eyes zeroes in on your face, avoiding the veins in your neck. “You sound like her when you call me that.”

Your eyes soften, warming him with your palms atop his cheeks, you worry. “You haven't answered my question.”

He groans, head lolling backwards. “Got busy, forgot what day it was.”

“Busy with what?” You click your tongue, lifting his head back up with your hands under his head. You search his hungry eyes, making a decision you could regret in the long run.

“If I let you feed, will you be able to get rid of the goblins?”

That has him picking his head back up, waking him up from his hungry stupor. “What—?”

You reiterate, voice determined. “If I let you drink from me can you get your strength back and get rid of the little fuckers?”

“Y/N, I can't let you do that.”

“I know what happens if you don't feed and judging by how the goblins are devouring your entire house like some frat, they aren't leaving soon enough.” You ball his shirt in your hands for emphasis. “I'm letting you drink, just this one time so we could all go home.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Just don't turn me into your spawn, deal?”

Hobie cracks a smile, fangs glinting off the basement lights. You suddenly feel your nerves kicking in.

“I promise I won't. Just tell me if it gets too much, yeah?”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, tugging down the collar of your shirt, showing him what he needs. “Don't drink me dry.”

“That depends, for all I know you taste brilliantly.” His joke alleviates your fear a little. You're both unaware of the cameras watching, recording everything. Even forgetting that they were there in the first place.

His hand is on the back of your neck, the other is gripping on to your arm like his life depends on it. Eyeing your skin, lips brushing along it, fangs barely piercing, he gives you enough time to lean away.

“Hurry on with it, I need to pee.”

With a deep chuckle, he sinks his teeth in you.

Gasping, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling any sounds. But Hobie can hear them from your chest, feel how your body quivers with every suck and nip from his teeth.

You whimper and he holds on to you tighter.

He wants to devour you whole, his instincts tell him to ravage you until you're dry and limp in his arms— to rip you apart with his bare teeth. But he doesn't, he's careful and gentle like he's drinking nectar straight from a flower.

“F-fuck…” you let out, hands shaking, sliding down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

He turns warmer with your crimson flowing through him, not letting a single drop of the precious liquid dribble from his mouth.

Hobie feels like his dead heart beats once again after centuries.

Eyes closed, you feel like you're on cloud nine. You look like it too, eyes hazy, lips parted, hand holding on to him weakly.

Before he could drown in you, Hobie carefully eases his teeth out from your pierced skin, maw covered in your blood, thumb pressing down to your wounds to stop the bleeding.

It will scar, but you're alright with that thought.

He feels anew. His eyes are sharper, adrenaline coursing through him like your blood in his system. His ears perked at every breath you let out. Eyes blown up like the size of dinner plates, his warm breath fans your cheeks.

Half of him regrets doing it, now that he has gotten a taste, he can't go back to biting random rich assholes. His other half delights in your after taste, so sweet and nectarine that makes him crave more.

You crane your neck slowly like molasses to look at him sweetly through your half lidded eyes, and a soft yet tired smile on your lips. Still clinging into euphoria, vision swirling and heart beating a thousand times per second. You feel like you've ascended and you'll never go down from it.

Licking his teeth, Hobie resists the urge to dive back in. But he's more than that, you're more than a blood bag.

“You alright?” He whispers, he smells like you.

You hum, smiling giddily like a child who just got what she wanted.

“‘m gonna go and kill some goblins now. Stay here for me?”

You hum a tune that sounds like a rendition of ‘happy birthday.’ Giggling, you pat his cheek.

“Yeah, you'll be alright. I'll get you some orange juice after this.”

“Orange sounds nice… such a pretty color. And cookies, yum.” You chortle like you just heard the best joke. “Oh handsome, so handsome. I'm gonna bite you back one day.” Staring up at him, your eyes roll back, falling unconscious.

“Lookin' forward to it.”

Hobie gently lays you down on the floor, standing up, ears listening to your fast heart beat, but it's not enough proof for him. Eyes observing your chest, watching it go up and down, making sure he didn't go too far. Satisfied, he points at the crew cowering in the corner, their cameras still rolling. The documentary won't air anywhere at this rate.

“Watch her.” He says sternly, eyes glaring.

They all nod frantically.

With a swift kick to the metal door, he strikes down every goblin he sees.

—

You sit on the same patchwork armchair, sipping on a warm cup of tea, comfortable and content in your seat. The two pin prick scars on your neck peeks under your collar. The camera has you in the spotlight, zoomed in on your freshly washed face.

“Do you know about the curse?” The man behind the camera asks, his voice wavering with every word like it's taboo to mention it.

“What curse?” You watch as their faces morph into panic. “I'm fucking with you,” you laugh at their expense.

“Of course I know about it. Why do you think I hunt him down? For fun? Well, partly because of it but we broke that curse like five generations ago when my ancestor figured it all out and made friends with the witch.”

Smiling fondly, you continue. “She's my godmother now. Don't tell him.” You warn. “Hunting him down is an initiation for us really, a tradition to try and kill him, just really doing our best to cause damage. He's pretty powerful.”

Laying your elbows on your knees, you look directly at the camera.

“I mean you've seen the room right? He's fucking obsessed, someone has to off him or just—I honestly think he should just move on.” shrugging you sip your tea that he made for you.

“Is that why you're living with him?” They ask unabashedly. The camera zooms out, showing you still in your pajamas, complete with fluffy slippers.

“Uh—”

Hobie appears in the corner, leaning on the doorway casually, a similar pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Darling, have you seen my good jumper—?”

You take your crossbow from under the chair, twisting in your seat, you aim it at his head, shooting, the arrow whizzes past him, he ducks down as the arrow imbeds into the oak.

Hobie laughs on the floor, lifting up a black and red jumper. “Found it!”

“Goddamnit.” The word is laced with endearment. You turn back towards the crew, eyes narrowed at them. “Wait, why are you guys here so early?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Thank you for reading! And happy 1k! 🎉

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smutty-ki113r · 9 months

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🛩Masky🛩||Toxic

NSFW||~ One shot x afab gn!reader, includes- vouyerism, pleasure dom masky, mirror play, teasing, edging, pilot masky, minors—dni (3.4k)

Inspired by: Britney Spears

(Fun fact I wrote this on the plane 😗)!

Working as a flight attendant was such a hassle, keeping you up at ungodly hours and having you deal with customers that complained about their seat. But it certainly had its perks, learning how to balance 4000 ft in the air and ending up in some incredible places, layovers in Hawaii, Dubai, Spain. Out of all these things you never would have imagined joining the mile high club…

You had an hour to get from terminal 1 to 3, your last flight was to Miami, so you were at MIA, looking around for a bathroom. Fixing up your hair quickly and adjusting your uniform before reaching the gate.

The other attendants were also waiting to the side, you were early. Of course you had to board the plane beforehand to check the seats and restock the drink cart.

There was only a few passengers waiting around too, you swayed against your luggage. Looking around to see the two pilots that would be driving the plane walking towards you, one of them you had flown with before, Brian Thomas.

The other one, particularly, caught your eye- probably because you had caught his first. Your heart skipped a beat and you gave him a friendly smile, then averted your gaze to avoid being awkward.

You had never seen him, he was probably new, laughing at something Brian said, but his sight was on you.

The corner of his lip was raised just slightly, he was practically undressing you with his eyes. You couldn’t even complain, he was hot as fuck, and he was flustering you. But his face remained innocent, nobody noticed but you.

He had this dark brown hair and defined features, he was classy, wearing his white uniform and a tie, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to how it fit him so perfectly. His build so defined- you stopped from staring at his pants.

If there’s one thing you loved it was a man in uniform.

Nobody had ever flirted with you on the job, and while no words were exchanged, you could feel his burning gaze.

You gulped and tried to look ahead, relieved when they called for all the attendants to board, it took the pressure off.

You took your post at the front of the plane and awaited for the passengers to board to then do the safety demonstrations and make sure everybody had their seatbelts on.

Soon enough zone 1 people started coming and you greeted them all, the door to the cockpit opened and you found yourself face to face with the pilot, glancing at his name embroidered in gold.

“Wright” you said softly, meeting his gorgeous eyes.

“yeah like the Wright brothers” he joked, looking you up and down and giving you a subtle smirk.

“That’s fitting” you told him. “Nice to meet you…”

“Tim” he finished, catching your name as well. “We’re about to take off, be a dear and get me some water will you?” He requested.

Nodding obediently and scurrying off to find him some water, he watched you go. Knocking on the door to the pit to alert them of your arrival and handing him the drink.

“Thank you gorgeous” he said, your face turning red at the compliment and instead moving to greet the other pilot, Brian nodded to you and you left.

Your thoughts remained on the beautiful man and you mindlessly did your rounds before the plane took off. Strapping in and listening to the men over the intercom.

“And we are ready for departure, flight 113 from MIA to JFK”

Smiling at yourself at the thought of your one day vacation in New York City. You wanted to go shopping and maybe visit the Statue of Liberty.

It was two hours into the grueling flight, your ears had already popped from the altitude, you never did get used to that.

You sat at the back, passing around the cart once and letting your other fellow flight attendants do the rounds for trash and such. You were all alone, looking out the window, your head in the clouds, and being almost startled as you saw the handsome man approach.

“I thought you were driving this thing” you whisper-hissed.

“Brian’s doing it, I’ve been at the wheel for almost three hours” he said, stressed. Flexing his arms out and stretching, leaning against a wall.

You couldn’t help but stare at his hands, his thick fingers, how you wished he could fill you up and make you pant out his name and-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts and getting up, “you can have my seat if you want” he was probably exhausted.

“Sit back down” he said, his tone low. You did as he said; a tingle in between your legs at how commanding he was.

“I just came here to get a- snack” he said slowly, smiling as if he wasn’t looking at up and down you when he said that.

“I can make you something if you like” you offered, his tense posture relaxed.

“You’re a godsend, yeah, I’ll take a black coffee” you nodded attentively and got up to make his drink. Focusing on making sure it didn’t spill and stirring it for him.

Turning to him and handing him the drink, he took a sip and set it down on the counter. “Thank you beautiful”

You shook your head, it was nothing, “yeah of course” you laughed nervously, “whatever you need” you told him in a passing tone.

His gaze pierced through you, “whatever I need?” He said, his voice teasing, dripping with desire.

Right then you knew you had made a grave mistake, gulping and looking away. He approached you, his lips so close to your ear, tucking hair behind your ear and letting his fingers brush upon your neck.

God damn turbulence betrayed you, swaying the plane and making you lose your footing and slide right into him. His hand at your waist to keep you upright.

“Now that you mention it” he whispered in your ear. “There was something else…and I’m still hungry” his gentle touches were making you weak at the knees.

You glanced behind him but nobody was watching, you were afraid of what would happen if you were caught, he seemed to notice.

“I’ll be careful” he promised, his head an inch away from being buried in the crook of your neck, and he smelled so good, like this expensive manly cologne.

“We’ll be quick” his words so soothing and convincing you. There was already a feverish throbbing at your clit that you severely needed to attend to. A wave of desperate heat at your lower abdomen that you craved for him to satisfy.

You couldn’t resist this man, he had a mesmerizing effect on you. So you focused on his lustful gaze as he walked you back into one of the bathrooms, locking the door behind him and wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you.

Tim sealed the small space separating the two of you, a knee already in between your legs because of how compact the space was. You let out a few pants at the way he rubbed you, unable to stop yourself even though there might have been people just outside that door.

His kisses passionate and needy, like he had been craving you ever since the moment he laid eyes on you. And everything he did was intoxicating, you were so receptive to him, slick already gathering in your panties as he met your lips in an open kiss and bit down on your lip, nibbling and teasing you,

There was barely any space in that bathroom, moving around and escaping him would be difficult, it almost didn’t give you a choice, but Tim felt so good, you couldnt help but whisper his name in need.

“Oh fuck” he cursed, “your kisses are so delicious” he reached a hand down to your stomach, trailing it down your torso to your most intimate area, replacing his knee and pressuring your cunt gently through your skirt, “I wanna know if the rest of you tastes just as good”

Your breath hitched when he hoisted you on the small counter, your pussy embarrassingly wet at every one of his touches. He spread your knees open and bent down to get to work.

“So this is what you meant by hungry” you said in the middle of the heated moment.

His eyes met yours and you gulped at the mischievous glint swirling his pupils. Feeling a throb at the view of the captain on his knees. “Exactly” He chuckled lowly and pressed his lips to your thighs impatiently, sinking his teeth into your soft skin and leaving marks nobody would know about but him.

You whined, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from letting any lewd noises escape. “Oh god” you whispered, when he finally got to your pussy. It was too much tension, his hot breath lingering where his teeth marks lay, and now- right on your clit.

He hooked his fingers to your panties and brought them down, amused at the wet spot on them. Now there was nothing else below that short skirt. Your body involuntarily bucked forward, and his big hands held you in place. “Impatient are we?”

But he was just as rushed as you, it was supposed to be a quickie in the bathroom not lovemaking. If you wanted to do that later he would gladly lay you down in a proper bed and do so, but for now all he was focused on was your pussy glistening with your juices that he so desired.

Bringing his lips to you and lapping a stripe up your slit before opening you up and tasting you in full. Groaning at the sensation of your sex clenching around his tongue while he fucked you with it.

His fingers digging into your skin to bring you closer to his face and encourage you to ride as wildly as you pleased. You weren’t one to resist, your knuckles white as you held onto a handle on the wall and the roof above you. Praying that the passengers on the plane thought the rough movement was from turbulence and nothing more.

Tim ate like a starved man, in a way you had never felt before. There was no stopping him either, he wouldn’t cease his tongue fuck until he was satisfied, and nothing would please him more than you gushing over him enough to let him know you were ready for something much larger.

Besides, he couldn’t get his eyes off you, he was particularly enjoying making you squirm at the brink of your first release. He liked teasing you this much, it showed him that he held all the power, and you were wrapped around his finger. Technically you were, when he slipped one in and curled it in your soft spot.

His lips sucked at your bundle of nerves hard enough to make you spasm and clench your legs around his head, everything was going according to his plan. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” He asked, taking a breath and dipping another digit inside your dripping pussy.

You struggled to keep your voice bellow a whisper, but he didn’t seem to care about a possible audience. All he was focused on was pulling more of those pretty cries from your swollen lips. “Yes-yes” you repeated.

Your brows furrowing at the pleasure he was providing you with, and Tim himself was getting off at just the taste of you. His cock twitching in his uniform pants, he was painfully hard so he had to take himself out and stroke when you creamed on his tongue.

“You taste so sweet honey” he praised, “I love it when you struggle to speak because I’m making you cum with just my tongue” he smirked. The flat of his tongue once again swirling your swollen clit enough to make you let out a mutter of incoherent nonsense.

Too drunk off the bliss you couldn’t argue back, you didn’t want to. It was like you were in heaven, preforming acts that were so sinful they would have led you to hell.

“T-Tim” you gasped, “I’m close” you warned him, “gonna cum”

Once again he started eating you like you were his las meal on earth, your eyes rolled back in delight. But he wasn’t going to let you get off that easily, you should have known. “Not until you ask for permission”

He pulled his touch away slightly, enough to keep you just at the edge of your orgasm for a bit longer.

“Please” you cried, tears in your eyes. “Can I please cum, captain?”

The man saw the look on your face but just cooed, “you haven’t said my name” he reminded you.

“Captain wright” you babbled “captain wright”, again and again because once you spoke the magic words he just kept going faster. Pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sopping hole hard enough to make you come undone. Crying out for him and gripping onto the edge of the counter to restrain yourself.

“That’s right, just like that” he coaxed, helping you ride down from your climax so perfectly, You were thankful that he was there to hold you steady. Lapping at your release before standing up again and pressing his bare cock to your entrance.

“Gonna need you to beg for this one too” he said, to fuel his ego and also for consent reasons. His lips to your neck now. You had barely managed to come down from such ecstasy before registering what he was asking.

But you were far too gone, your cunt still clenching for him. There was nothing you wanted to do more than to satisfy him like he did you. Nodding and letting a few “please’s” to let him know you craved it too.

“Mhm that’s what I thought”, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, looking down to see if he had the package to back it up but your jaw hug open once you felt it. Prodding at you and letting his precum mix in with your slick.

“‘S not gonna fit” you said in a hiccup, eyes wide and narrowed at his heavy cock that pressed against your slit as you dripped on him. “It’s too big” you squeaked.

“Oh it’ll fit” he panted, mimicking the motions of sex but just grinding himself raw on you. “I’ll make it fit” he hissed. Finally rolling his hips into you in one swift movement. “Fuck” he cursed under his breath, it was quite a tight fit, enough to make him pause because he didn’t want to cum instantly.

A stray groan fell from your mouth but he caught it with his own, meeting you in a heated embrace. His hands on either side of you, pressing prints onto the mirror behind you. He pulled out and thrusted back in, working a good pace. You slowly acclimated to his thick girth with every stroke in your pussy.

Even with the stretch it felt so delicious, your hands clutching his once ironed uniform into wrinkled bunches. There was barely any space in that god forsaken bathroom, but it just gave him the excuse to stay closer to you. That and he just had to give smaller, quicker thrusts.

His big cock splitting you open time and time again, his tip reaching your cervix, thudding against your g spot in a way that made you squeeze him like a vice.

A hand keeping your knee open while he fucked you, practically pounding you. Making you lose your breath and your head go fuzzy. “You’re so tight” he hissed, “practically milking me”

He was panting, pulling out momentarily to turn you around and fuck you doggystyle. Except now, you could see your reflection and his own. The whole image of the captain pounding your pussy till it turned red on full display for you. A grin making its way to his lips, he liked seeing you struggle to fit him fully.

But the look on your face and the way you gripped around him told him that you wanted it, that and those obscene noises you were making every time he hilted. “Thats a good, pretty baby” he rasped, “servicing all your captains’ needs”

You looked at his eyes in the mirror, a pout on your lips from how he was acting. A hand making it’s way to your chin to redirect your gaze to your own body. “Watch yourself” he whispered, his breath hot on your ear.

“Look at yourself while you take all of me” he panted, and you felt yourself melt at the obscenity of his words. “I want you to see how good I’m fucking you”

Doing as he said and feeling his balls clap against your ass, it was almost more unholy to watch your expression and the way he made your body bounce back and forth on his cock.

“Do you see it?” He asked, “that fucked out look on your face from how deep my cock is right now”, a gentle touch at your lower abdomen to press where he was bulging. “Here, all the way inside that slutty little hole of yours” he teased.

It was all too lewd, you felt yourself sizzling with desire, about to burst again if he kept whispering those sweet words in your ear.

“You look so hot when I’m inside of you” he praised. “Mhm with me stretching you out, you’re so hungry for it” he growled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir”, You were struggling to piece together your words, the ones you could were just ‘more- more more more”, so thats exactly what you said.

“Please” you cried “please sir, more”,

Your noises getting a bit too out of control, he had to discipline you. A hand moving to your lips to hold your mouth as he told you to be quiet, but that almost made it worse. Now the sound of the lewd squelch and clapping of balls was the only thing that could be heard along with your muffled groans and pants.

“Shh that’s right” he said, softly. “Just keep taking it, just let me take care of you” you nodded at the finger at your lips telling you to be silent. “stay and let me fuck that pretty pussy just a bit longer.”

You bit your tongue and did as he instructed, trying to hold on but the throbbing at your cunt was aching. “Please captain, let me cum” you whispered.

Meeting his eyes through the mirror and he seemed to relent, it’s not like he would hold on much longer either. You were squeezing him too tight, and he couldn’t pull out too much, there wasn’t any space in that damn little cabin.

His hand gripped the rails to steady himself, the other at your ass to take a handful of. “You’ve been good, go ahead, you can cum” he whispered in your ear.

It felt like such a relief, shivers going down your spine and directly to your pussy. “I’m cumming-“ you warned, fluttering around him as you found your release.

“That’s a good baby just let yourself go” he said in a raspy tone, his fingers digging so deep into your ass there would definitely be marks. “Let your captain take care of you”

Your legs were weak, trembling as he hilted and spilled deep inside of your hole, groaning into your shoulder as he filled you up.

His cock twitching as you squeezed him until his balls were empty. Eventually he pulled out, his release dripping out from your hole and down your legs.

His big hands helped you pull up your panties once again, it wasn’t much help concealing the act, your hair was all disheveled and your cheeks rosy.

His release still inside of you a lewd reminder of what had just transpired on the planes bathroom.

“You did so good for me” he praised, making sure you were good before sending you off.

He put your skirt in place, “welcome to the mile high club” he whispered with a chuckle, “have a safe flight now”

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oncomingnight · 11 months

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Yandere! Barbie Girl ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

poc reader ᧔𐓪᧓˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Unfortunately, I haven't gotten the chance to watch the most recent Barbie movie but I will be seeing Oppenheimer tonight :) very excited. This post was inspired by Margot Robbie as the original Barbie but I didn't make the setting of this piece the Barbie movie, keep that in mind :)! Please feel free to talk to me and request works in my ask box, I love speaking with all of you.

She was absolutely beautiful, always making sure she was properly groomed. $79 glittery pink glass on her plump lips, french tip acrylic nails, gorgeous locs of honey blonde hair falling down her back.

Barbara was a self-made woman. She earned a diploma in international business before becoming the chief executive officer of her own company. Thanks to not only her job but knowledge, she earns enough to set you both for life. Because of the morals her father raised her with, she knows how to treat a wornan, and takes full advantage of this to take care of you.

She is the personification of the quote Dolly Parton made about being an entrepreneur. "You know, I look like a woman but I think like a man And in this world of business, that has helped me a lot. Because by the time they think that I don't know what's goin' on, I then got my money, and gone."

Barbara spends her hard-earned money mindfully. She' donate to her choice of charities, gift inventory to soup kitchens, give away basic needs to shelters, she particularly enjoys fostering animals with you.

Another thing she enjoys using her money for is to show you the beauties of the world. Flying to Istanbul to taste the delicious flavors of a Turkish breakfast, taking you shopping in New York, London, Paris, Dubai and having a hot springs spa day with you.

You're outrageously spoiled and doted on by her. It's HER job to show you exactly how thankful she is for you, it fills her with undetainable rage to think about someone else trying to make you happy and take you away from her. Of course, you'd never leave her for anybody else, she just can't help but overthink.

Because of her severely accomplished corporation, she's expected to attend specific events. Does she have the money to hire a top tier tearn to help ready the two of you? Yes, but she can help you herself. She will zip your dress up. She will apply makeup to your soft and beautifully crafted face, she will be the one to kneel and apply the shoes she carefully selected to your feet.

She will be the one to take your hand in her perfectly manicured one in front of all the cameras.

Soon, your hand will have a ring with a pink sapphire settled on one of your fingers. She'll make sure the proposal goes absolutely perfectly.

She takes you on the loveliest dates and some of them are stay-in nights. She'll take out your matching silk pajamas out of her walk-in closet, place bunches of pillows and plushies onto her couch, prepare your favorite snacks + beverages and get your most favored movie/shows onto the TV.

Every time the two of you go for a day out, you find at least one of her arms wrapped around your waist. Barbara will hug you from the back while settling her face onto your shoulder, either standing in silence or talking to you mindlessly.

"whatcha doin' :)?" "I had a plan for what we could do tonight." "While I was at work today, I was thinking about where we could go for our honeymoon."

She'd admit (without shame) that she's a clingy wife. You could be preparing dough for some baked goods and she'll be hugging you tightly from behind, being shoulder to shoulder with you, holding your hand no matter what you're doing, asking to bathe and shower with you (in a sweet way) so she can help wash you but she just enjoys being near you.

Obviously.

She goes all out during Christmas, anniversaries, holidays, etc. On the morning of your birthday, she'll wake you up with dozens of kisses on your face, presents wrapped in pastel colored paper, your favorite foods that she cooked herself, homemade baked treats she learned to make from her parents, she'll also quickly mention that she booked a cabin and how your flight is set for that exact day.

Better hurry and get ready, babe! :)

Christmas is her absolute favorite holiday as it is for millions of people but no one celebrates like her. The whole house is decked out in decoration, inside and out. A white tree accompanied with ornaments, each painted with individually unique designs by the two of you. She doesn't set out some of the more special presents under the tree because she wants to keep you guessing in the best way. Each present meant for you will have a tag on them that has writing about how much she adores you.

Winter is the best season to cuddle with the one you love. She takes that to her advantage as well! Barbara will set you down onto her pink satin couch that has multiple blankets on it to cuddle in front of the fireplace with you, old timey Christmas music on the record player.

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this, it was supposed to come out earlier today but Tumblr was being a bit difficult so I had to make some changes but , hopefully, it still pleased some of you. I'll post some more tomorrow and I will let you know how I liked the Oppenheimer movie :).

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toriangeli · 2 days

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2.04 notes

-Biggest note, finally, FINALLY we have seen the real Armand. I'm not just talking about his heartbreaking speech in the Louvre, I'm talking about his increasingly unhinged behavior and especially that flashback moment where Daniel is remembering him asking him why he's so fascinating. -Is it insane that Claudia's suffering is more upsetting to me than anyone else's? I think it hits closer to home when it's a woman. That, or maybe they're oversaucing the pudding. Like, we get it, she's Super Tragic. Can we process -Santiago sulking in his dressing room while Claudia is onstage. They should have formed an alliance from the start to get this act off the stage. -Man this episode does make me remember how insufferably snobby Louis was in the book. Thank god they've got Jacob playing him. -I adore them showing coven politics. Love love love. Could Armand have prevented it? I mean, obviously, if he could put the entire coven to sleep in an instant. But they are clearly setting up the impetus to be more complicated than many make it out to be. -Daniel says "Yah" to Louis asking if he wants to know what Dreamstat felt like. -"He's not that attractive." Bro. I'm not even a dudes kinda lady and even I know he's hot. -HE CALLED HIM A BUFFOON OMG -I think Rashid, on orders from James, mixed in those photos with Louis' to cause an argument and allow Daniel more time with the files he was sent. -I wondered if they were going to find one of Marius' paintings in the Louvre, but finding one of Armand/Amadeo is even better (because Marius is...not mediocre, but definitely not Louvre material). -"Who am I, Louis? Am I my history I have endured? Am I the job I do not want? I am not sure anymore. No one has painted me in over 400 years." Oh god for them to address Armand's identity issues this directly--he is fully aware of that emptiness and openly seeks to fill it. He's begging Louis for it. -Then to turn around and show this authoritarian side to him, FUCK YES. -Starting to venture closer to the theory that Louis has been telling the lie of him being the one who slit Lestat's throat for so long that he has come to believe it. -Jesus. I know Dreamstat isn't even real and doesn't have feelings, but I still feel for him. -This scene where Louis advises Armand. People are seeing is as being more sinister than I'm seeing it. There are definitely power plays, but nothing Armand pushes back on. I don't think he's doing this because he fancies being Lestat, though I'm as perplexed as anyone by his reaction to Armand's story. But I think here, he's giving Armand a place to vent, to be vulnerable, to safely express fear for the first time in well over a century. I do think it snowballs by the time we get to Dubai (hence Jacob talking about Louis becoming "the Lestat" in his relationship with Armand), but here, Armand seems deeply reassured. Contrast their argument in the bedroom, where Armand is immediately concerned with who to blame because he doesn't want the argument he knows is coming. That instant anticipation of the argument isn't a great sign. But the one moment in the 1940's that's a sign of how toxic it's likely to get? Louis called Armand by the name Armand said he went by as a slave, which he could not be sure was his birth name. That's taking the BDSM fantasy too far. Other than that? Every time Armand starts to spiral emotionally in the conversation, Louis redirects him, and it genuinely seems to make Armand feel better. What I don't like is that Louis has stepped back into a persona he doesn't like. At this juncture, it's more unhealthy for Louis than for Armand. Though as we see, it seems to become equally unhealthy for them both. -That being said, some people are still weirdly insistent that Armand is secretly 100% in control of everything ever, in spite of the mounting evidence that it's not the case. Just because he can put his coven to sleep for 15 seconds without breaking a sweat doesn't mean he's some kind of puppet master. There's only one of him.

Next week: finally getting truly unhinged Armand omg.

#iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv amc #iwtv spoilers #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #armand #daniel molloy #claudia de pointe du lac

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nalyra-dreaming · 10 days

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Do you think that, at the beginning of the episode, Armand kept Louis asleep so he could spin his little yarn about Lestat without the latter there with the express hope of selling Daniel on the telenovela? As well as maybe making peace/having some quiet time with the Daniel (read: his boy from SF) he kind of tried to protect from Louis' cruel Alice-rant last episode? Daniel has been continuously mocking Louis with the notion of Loumand being "a story that is being sold to him" so maybe this way, Lestat appears to be the bad guy yet again and further Lestat discussions are tabled except explaining how Louis got his groove back (and learned to forget about the 'ever-thinking-about-himself' Lestat)?

I'm a Loustater who was ready to live with Loumand because we have to, and thought I was willing to give Armand some trust that he's trying to protect Louis from doing something terrible in Dubai, but it seems that, with that fiction about Lestat, he's been withholding more than Louis ever did. And whether that's to save Louis or himself and likely both, I can't tell. I can't even imagine how we're going to have a walk-down-memory-lane discussion about the trial if Armand can't be remotely honest, even now, about Lestat.

Lastly, all that talk in theatre about the coven wanting Louis dead if he's not joining etc. Is all that telepathic murder plotting being freely discussed in Dubai?

Need help! Want to understand!!!!!!!!

Oh, I think Louis being asleep when the interview continues is a massive red flag, indeed. He was up during the day before, so why will he rise at sundown now? And why does Armand launch into a little fanfic version of Lestat while Daniel asks him a very different question?

And why did the Mac not record that one sentence?

The thing is... I think Armand is doing precisely what he was doing with Louis at the end of the IWTV book, namely a) lie to him about a few specific things, b) keep a kind of veil over Louis and c) protect him (from others and himself).

It's Armand! He's the coven master. He does what he thinks is best.

And of course he loves Louis, too, but... you know. At this point it should be very clear that Louis did not love him back as much as he seemed to do (before). Louis invited Armand in (and into a relationship with him) to not get killed. And to keep Claudia safe, too. THAT is their actual relationship start and fuck how bitter is that?????

The Louis in Dubai... has lived decades with whatever happened after that event in San Francisco. And whatever happened with the Devil's Minion arc there. And Armand... is still lying to him.

I said it in another ask, but by now I'm leaning towards Louis going to NOLA at the end of the season - and either finding Lestat there ... or NOT. And if he does not find him I can see him go and do the Merrick ending in the Merrick ending place.

I think episode 7 and 8 will shift a LOT of things, and no matter how the trial is narrated we already know it likely won't be how it went. It will be interesting to see if they break the narrative once more - or let Daniel read them to filth.

Because I can see Daniel do that. Because allll the little things, all the Talamasca files, all that background information he has now will click into place for him. Because he is very good at his job.

#Anonymous #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #loustat #armand #loumand #the devil's minion #daniel molloy #devil's minion

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lou-iz-stat · 4 months

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While listening to the new podcast that Jacob Anderson was on I seriously got emotional about it. And it was not because of what he said about letting Louis go for a little while.

It was because when Jacob as talking about the other roles that he has had and how usually when he ends a role he doesn’t ever want to celebrate them but with Louis and Interview with the Vampire he decided to do something different. When he took the rocks from the Dubai set and scattered them where he felt most comfortable really felt like for once he was celebrating the work of the past two seasons.

And on top of that it really expressed to me how special IWTV as a show and story is. I know a lot of people have their favorite shows that they obsess over but this show really is something else. Like even Jacob says he is not really a spiritual person and neither am I but this show is so extraordinary that it just feels not of this world. And I don’t mean to sound so sappy or cheesy about this. I mean think about it there have been so many hurdles that this show has had to go through throughout the production of both seasons but it is still such an incredible and transformative show. And on top of that every single person on that set has nothing but great things to say about it. Even Luke Brandon Field who plays young Daniel even said it was his favorite set to ever work on. I can continue on and on including Jacob and Sam finding each other as platonic soulmates through this show. Every single person that has had a hand in the show just loves it so much like it’s not just a job for them but actual art. Frankly the show should not have worked with how many problems it initially had but because everyone loves the source material so much and what they are doing so much that it is almost if all that love was able to create a show like no other.

The last thing I want to bring up is that the show would not be what it is without amc. I know a lot of people take issue with the way that amc handled the marketing and promotion of season 1 and for the most part I can agree with those criticisms but I still would not want any other studio to have taken this story on. We can be frustrated with amc all we want but we have to acknowledge that if this show went to some other streaming giant like Netflix or Max the show would not have been this amazing. AMC, being that it’s a much smaller studio feels to me that they are much more closely connected to their shows. There always seems to be a sort of distance from the big studios to their shows considering they make so much content. And I am praying that I won’t regret when i say this but I just feel like AMC is in it for the long game. And if I do end up being wrong and the show does end up getting cancelled I seriously don’t know what I am going to do with myself.

Even as I type all this out I’m getting teary eyed just thinking about everything. Also I’m sorry for being so dramatic about the show but it really is the most important piece of media that I have ever experienced and no matter what happens in the future it will always be my favorite thing ever.

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melanieph321 · 9 months

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Ruben Dias x Black Reader - The Bodyguard Part 1/8

Yeah, this is going to be good 🤭🤭 So good!

Summary - Reader is a popstars in trouble and Ruben is her new bodyguard, here to protect and help her find out who wants to hurt her. But what happens when the relationship between Reader and Ruben simply gets too personal?

Enjoy!

"A bodyguard? For what?"

"Y/N, a person has threatened your life."

"So? People do that online every day. Haters gonna hate."

You fell back against the cuchens of your fifthy thousand euro couch. Sure, it was expensive, but it came straight from the set of Pulp Fiction, a collectors item, worth every penny. Pulp Fiction was your absolute favorite movie of all time.

"I get that you don't want someone following you around all day, especially now with the tour of your knew album, but please consider your own safety first." You're sister had been managing you ever since the beginning of your singing career, of course her natural instict was to worry about you.

"Fine you sighed. So when is this guy coming?"

"Well, we had him fly in from his latest job in the UAE."

"The what know?"

"The UAE, like Dubai? Aapparently even the riches shieks in the middle east wants this guy as their bodyguard. He's an ex navy seal from what I've heard."

"Girl." You chuckled. "I received one threatening phone call from a man who calls himself the Dickonataor 3000. What makes you think I need a navy seal to protect me from that? You should have gotten one of the pumped up dudes from the fitness center I go to to set this guy straight. How much is this bodyguard guy even costing us?"

"Well, he said your only up for trial and that discussions won't happen until the end of that trial period."

"A trial?" You sat up. "You mean to tell me that this guy is only coming around for a trial. To what? See if my life is really worth guarding?"

"Somthing like that, yes. I don't know all the details. Taylor was the one who set everything up."

"Taylor? What does he know about hiring bodyguards?"

"Well he has a decade of experience when it comes to driving spoiled popstars like yourself."

"I'm not spoiled, you're spoiled."

You're sister smiled. "We're both spoiled."

"Mom would be very proud, too bad she rarely flies out to see us?"

"She will be here for your album release party, she promised."

"Yeah, yeah, promises promises, they mean nothing to me."

Your sister stood with her hands behind her back, watching you. You hated the way she dressed nowadays, in pantsuits, like a damn politician.

"Are you ready to go back to rehearsals?" She asked. You had only gone back to your apartment for a quick break. You had been dancing all day.

"I haven't eaten anything yet." You said.

"We'll pick somthing up on the go, come." She offered you her hand. Just like she when you were kids, wanting to hold your hand on your way to school.

Rehearsals went well, however your feet were killing you by the time you got home. Taylor dropped you off at the apartment whilst your sister still had some business to take care of. You were glad to be alone for a change, having been surrounded by people telling you what to do all day.

"Maria?"

You peaked your head through to the kitchen to see if your personal chef was there. You'd ask her to cook a nice meal, perhaps one of her country's delicacies. You loved Brazilian food.

"Maria?"

She was nowhere to be found. You went to look for her in her office.

"Mari—"

"She's not here."

You froze as a big shadow swept behind you, followed by the dark voice of a man.

"Who are you?" You turned around and gasped. The man stood tall, dressed in a blacksuit and tie. His hair was slicked back, like a business man trying to appear more professional than he was.

"I'm here to kill you." He stated, just like that, with his hands tied before him.

"Um...okay. Taylor!!" You shouted.

"We're twelve stories up sweetheart, he won't hear you."

You frowned, applled by the man and his commanding, yet not threatening demeanor.

"What do you want, I don't keep any money here."

"Yeah, I realized that. However I hacked into your computer in your office."

"Y...you what?"

"It's not very smart of you not to encrypt any of your emails. I've received everything I need about your recent payments, credit card details, enough to forge your identity to make you go bankrupt in a few days time."

Your chest heaved up with your heavy breathing. Who was this guy, an intruder? Why was he so calm? Was he one of those serial killers to have sex with your corps before cutting it to pieces and eat it. Not on your watch, you thought and quickly ran back downstairs.

"Mariaaaaa!" You shouted.

"Like I said, I sent her home."

The man was right at your heals, following you wherever you went.

"What...why?" You said, slightly out of breath and your feet were still sore, so you didn't feel like running.

"Your apartment should be cleared out of staff by 6.pm it's easier to keep track of who goes in and out of the apartment if all your staff have a time stamp on them."

"How did you even get into the building?" You asked. "Did the doorman let you in?"

The man looked at you with tinted eyes, they were intimidating, yet kind. "The doorman has a shift change that occurs with a thirty minute window before the next guy shows up. I simply bid my time, observing your building all day, waiting for the right moment to simply walk into the building and take the elevator up to your floor."

"W.. what do you want?" You were trembling with fear now, ready to scream if the man dared try anything. However he seemed to keep his distance between you, yet it seemed like he was still invading your space.

"Like I said, I'm here to kill you. Or more so simulate how a killer would make the attempt to approach you in your home. From what I've gathered today you're an easy victim Y/N."

"How did you....wait are you...you're him aren't you? The bodyguard?"

The man stood with his hands behind his straight back, neither confirming or denying your statement.

You shook your head, a hint of a smile on your lips. "What a starnge way to introduce yourself and aren't you too young to be a bodyguard. I was expecting some G.I Joe looking mother fuc...."

"I think I'll do guarding a 60 kg girl who doesn't lock her front door when she leaves her home."

"But I know everyone who lives in this building and we have a doorman."

"You'll lock your doors from now on." He said, end of.

You were slightly taken back, mostly by the way he was dominating you, but also by the way you let him dominant you.

"It's my apartment, I can do whatever I want." You said, a bit unconvincing.

"Not on my watch."

You snorted. "Right."

"Did I say something funny?"

"Yeah, a lot of things actually."

"I'm sorry to have frightened you with my unannounced entry Miss..."

"Y/N, is fine. " You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"It's just standard protocol for me to ensure that whoever I'm working for is secure beyond my protection so that when it's necessary for me to give my life to them, I'll know it was for the right reason and not some sloppy mistake like an unlocked door or the fact that you let unwanted personal linger past suitable hours."

You're eyes were narrowed as you stared at the man, trying to make sense of it all. You stared at him until the point of realizing that he was actually kind of cute.

"Oh shit, there you are."

The strange introduction came to an end with your sister stumbling through the door.

"Taylor told me that he picked you up from the airport hours ago. I see you've already met my sister." She stepped forward shaking the man's hand.

"Yes we have just made ourselves acquainted, setting some ground rules for this arrangement."

Your sister looked at you, slightly impressed. You on the other hand was not having it at all.

"Y/N, why the long face?" Your sister said. "Meet Ruben Dias, you're new bodyguard."

#fanfiction #football imagine #man city #manchester city #ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #ruben dias x black reader #black reader

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spreejobs · 11 months

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Physiotherapist Job Vacancy in Ruwais, United Arab Emirates

Physiotherapist Job Vacancy in Ruwais, United Arab Emirates JOB DESCRIPTION Undertake duties in accordance with the philosophy, business practices and policies of NMCRH, and practicing within the standards and ethics of the Physiotherapy profession Typical work activities include: Working with patients to identify the physical problem; Developing and reviewing treatment programs; Assisting…

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#best clinic in dubai #best hospitals in dubai #cancer treatment in dubai #free govt hospitals in uae #gulf job vacancy #hair treatment in dubai #hospitals in uae #how to find jobs in dubai #how to find jobs in dubai on visit visa #jobs in Dubai #jobs in uae #list of hospitals in dubai #private hospitals in dubai #security guard jobs in dubai #things to do in dubai #tips to find jobs in uae #top 10 best hospital in dubai #top 10 hospitals in uae #top hotels in dubai

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heliza24 · 2 days

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Louis, Armand, Visual Art, and Vulnerability

The way episode 2.4 used painting and photography as a recurring motif to illustrate the relationship between Armand, Louis, and Dreamstat fascinated me, and I’m going to try to work it out here.

Even though Armand is dismissive of Louis’s photography in Dubai as a “human understanding of time”, he actually feels very similar about the paintings in the museum, calling them “framed boulevards of time and space.” For both Louis and Armand, the captured image represents a connection to their true selves. For Louis it’s an embodiment of his love of humanity, of morality, of joy. There’s a tragic element to this though; Louis is always just an observer, stuck behind his camera lens. He can never be a true part of humanity again. In this episode he complains about the ways vampirism has restrained his art; he can only take photos at night, he can’t get to know his models without eating them. He has control over the images he creates but only so much. He doesn’t have the true spark of artistic genius, the ability to capture humanity because he feels it himself.

Armand has the opposite relationship to the image; he’s always the subject, not the artist. (I know he paints in his early life in the books, but we haven’t seen any evidence of that yet in the show). There’s a tragic element to this too, since it mimics the way he was entirely stripped of agency as a young man. The way he is portrayed in the Vecchio painting is both beautiful and violent. He’s whitewashed, and it captures a moment when he was being sexually abused. But there is something vital about this painting, in that it connects Armand to his faulty early memories. There is also something important about the fact that someone cared enough to arrange to have him painted, even if that care was possessive and twisted in its own way. When Armand says “no one has painted me in 400 years,” he means “No one has cared for me in this way in centuries. No one has seen me in this way for that long.”

Of course there’s an irony of that, because Louis has seen him in that way, in the photo he took of Armand. Louis fights against the art dealer’s appraisal of this photo, because he wasn’t trying to capture Armand’s fragility in that moment. He was trying to capture Dreamstat. I think there’s a part of Louis that is very frustrated by Armand’s vulnerability. There are a lot of reasons for this, I think, and it’s a pattern of behavior we see in Louis often. Louis has always had difficulty accessing sentiment and vulnerability himself, going back to when he was human and pulled a knife on his brother when Paul was mentally vulnerable. We know that Louis’s recounting of Lestat often left out Lestat’s vulnerability, and the part of Lestat that Louis sparked with (for better and for worse) was Lestat’s more violent, tempestuous side. In this very episode, we see Louis rejecting Claudia’s fear about being threatened by Armand, and throwing her feelings of rejection back in her face (“You left me first!”). Louis doesn’t have a lot of patience for vulnerability in general, and I think that’s why Dreamstat was there for Armand’s monologue about Armand’s early life. Dreamstat is an embodiment of Louis’s suspicions and frustrations, and when Armand was talking about not knowing who he is, of being trapped in a job he does not want… that’s when Dreamstat interrupts with a derogatory “HAH!”. To me that is Louis, expressing his frustration with Armand’s fragility and indecision. That’s Louis saying “make a CHOICE already.” And it makes sense that in the next sequence of scenes he takes action to help push Armand into making that choice.

Earlier in the episode, when Armand is trying to teach Louis how to use the fire gift, Louis complains that it only works for him when he’s pissed off about something, and Armand mentions that he “tries to find the vulnerability in the object” in order to light it on fire. After Claudia leaves, Louis is angry at both Claudia and Armand, and that anger helps him light Armand’s photo on fire. But Louis has also found the vulnerability in Armand, which he demonstrates deftly in the scene on the bench. Telling Armand he’s wet but not moving to open the umbrella himself (You’re soaking wet, Louis…), waiting for Armand to use the fire gift to light his cigarette for him, encouraging Armand to play Santiago and the rest of the coven off against each other. This is all asserting control in a way that Louis now knows Armand will respond to. Most crucial, however, is his assertion that he’s “not an artist” and [he doesn’t] know too much about theatre. But [he] used to be real good at running things.” Things, of course, means brothels. And then Louis calls Armand Arun, the name he used when he was trafficked into sexual slavery. In one fell swoop, Louis rejects his art, his connection to humanity and goodness, and embraces his vampiric nature. Because vampires are killers, but they are also manipulators. And Louis is happily pushing directly on Armand’s weakness here, that he confessed to Louis in a moment of pure honesty. There is a part of Armand that is relieved to be back in this old pattern, to no longer have the burden of choice. And there’s a part of him that’s turned on by the submission, and a part of Louis that’s turned on by the domination. So Armand answers “yes maitre”, and we’ve officially embarked on the beginning of their 70 year long relationship, built on the back of both genuine desire and love as well as nefarious manipulation. By the time we get to Dubai, it’s Armand manipulating Louis, using the ghost of his artistic ambition to somehow placate him by mixing up his photos with those of more accomplished artists.

There’s another aspect to that bench scene, which is Louis’s final rejection of Dreamstat. I think there are a few reasons he decides to do this now. Claudia’s outburst is very Lestat-like in her anger, and I think Dreamstat’s reminder that Claudia is both Louis and Lestat’s daughter prompts Louis to separate himself from Claudia (by choosing Armand over her) and Lestat. Dreamstat has also evolved into a reminder of all things gentle and domestic to Louis. He has become the voice of Louis’s inner tenderness as well as his skepticism, and as we have already established, Louis does not like to be reminded of this. If he is going to make the tenuous balance between Claudia, Armand, Santiago, and the coven work, he cannot indulge in vulnerability, not now. And while Dreamstat might currently be in his tender era, Lestat himself still represents the vampire teacher to Louis. His anger, his control, his viciousness are things that Louis has previously rejected. But in this power move over Armand, we see him embracing all of those qualities. So in some ways he has simply progressed beyond his need for Lestat. He no longer needs Dreamstat because he has taken on all of Lestat’s worst qualities himself. I love how the way that he asserts control over Dreamstat mimics the way he asserts control over Armand. And I love how the effect of Dreamstat disappearing looks like paint bleeding into water or a photo developing in reverse. Louis leaves behind tenderness, Lestat, art, and leans into his own power.

In Dubai, Louis is detached from his art and critical of it. There are some interesting parallels here with Daniel, who isn’t a visual artist, but does seem to consider his writing an art and tries to use that to reassure Louis. Much like Louis, Daniel thinks of himself as a distanced observer, writing about the vampires with an outside lens. But obviously he is about to discover how much “in frame” he actually is.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #my meta #armand #louis #lestat

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mitskijamie · 1 month

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Headspace is so crazy if my gf was telling all my coworkers and her ex about how clingy and annoying I was I would walk into the ocean. And he apologizes?? Like he’s in the wrong for not reading her mind??? Healthiest couple on the show 💕🫶🥰 this is the future liberals want

Unpopular opinion

I pinpoint Headspace as the exact episode that they took a left turn with Keeley's character and never recovered. I've noticed that some TV shows nowadays try so hard to avoid vilifying female characters that they just end up making their female characters one-dimensional girlbosses while their male counterparts are actually afforded the depth and complexity of real human beings. I think TL makes this mistake in a big way with Headspace and then just digs that hole deeper and deeper until the finale

Simply put, Keeley becomes uninteresting to me post-Headspace because she loses all autonomy. All the bad things that happen to her happen because another character did something bad to her (through no fault of her own, of course) and all the good things that happen to her happen because another character decided to be nice to her.

Prior to the latter half of season 2, Keeley's arc is driven by decisions she makes, for better or for worse. She chooses to leave Jamie. She gets herself a job offer from Rebecca by actively showcasing her talents in a way that the audience can clearly see, and then she takes time to consider whether she can/should accept the offer. She pursues Roy actively. She invites Jamie up for sex. She considers whether she wants to be with Roy and demands a certain level of respect from him before agreeing to date him. She sets boundaries with Jamie. We see her actively doing her job frequently - she finds the pundit job for Roy, she gets various brand deals for the boys, she has to deal with the fallout of the thing with Dubai Air, etc.

Are all of her decisions good decisions? Is she always in the right? No!!!! Which is a good thing, because real people don't always do/say the right thing!!!! But more importantly than whether she's making the right decisions, she is MAKING DECISIONS. She's advancing her own arc!!!!

After Headspace, things start happening TO Keeley rather than because of her, and that's where they lose me. She becomes a fundamentally passive character. What are Keeley's major plot points in s2e8-s3? Jamie tells her he loves her (+ Nate kisses her lol). Jack decides to pick up KJPR, not for any particular reason the audience can see. Roy leaves her. She does choose to hire Shandy, but Shandy pretty quickly becomes the advancing character in that storyline, going off the rails for reasons that have nothing to do with anything Keeley does. Jack starts courting her. Someone else leaks her nudes. Jack leaves her and stops funding KJPR. Rebecca steps in to save KJPR. Then she rejects Roy and Jamie, to show the audience that it's feminism and she ultimately has the ability and good sense to reject both of them, which I appreciate, but feels hollow given the complete lack of autonomy inherent in her s3 storyline

It's just like. Idk. I wish we could've seen even just a little of what Keeley's family and childhood were like and how they influence her behavior, or where her unhealthy coping mechanisms come from, or how she felt about the breakup beyond "sad," etc etc etc. Compare the narrative complexity of Roy, Jamie, Ted, Nate etc. to Keeley. She was completely shafted. She's like a really interesting outline of a character with nothing filled in

#ask #critical #I genuinely feel terrible saying this because I want to love Keeley so bad but they make her into such a sitcom wife #she's beautiful and kind and patient and she's never done anything wrong and she heals broken men with her loving touch #LET HER GO APESHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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iwtvdramacd18 · 10 months

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The discussions surrounding gender coding and performance and assigned/chosen roles are frustrating because there is so much to be said about a show that is explicitly criticizing its source text not only through the very centering of blackness in a narrative originally given to a white plantation owner (who openly hates blackness himself!) and his white relationships (familial etc.) but also taking the genre to task and interrogating who gets to be an object of desire in gothic romance. And because people choose to ignore the various amounts of coding within the show, and align themselves with racist ideals of how a black man should be looked at and treated and written within a romance, simplifying any remotely feminine coding as degrading or detrimental (completely ignoring the much more dangerous and limiting and prevalent hyper masculinization running rampant) as a trans person it's even more frustrating because if we cannot conceive of a cis black man having room to exist within literary roles usually reserved for women, what does that mean regarding any trans reading of that character? It honestly feels like a very abrasive space to open up any dialogue regarding viewing/ exploring Louis through any trans lens; I will specify that personally I do so through a transmasc lens but that does not negate any other trans reading of Louis. But the fact that so many people take Louis' ADMITTED performance of a specific form of masculinity pre-vampirism at face value makes it seem like we can barely broach the topics of what it means for a character to be pressured and give into that pressure to perform toxic and harmful masculinity as a trans masculine person, whether for personal gender affirmation or safety, at the explicit detriment and harm of others (his pimp job). Or a reading of Louis where the only reason he became a "favored son" was because of Paul's inability to hold a form of masculinity due to his mental state-- because society has no space or support for an eldest son/ head of a household that experiences any level of psychosis. And that's not even getting into living within the twisted nuclear family unit that's the Lioncourt Rue Royale household: what does it mean to be a trans man and finding yourself wanting a child of your own? To find comfort in some traditionally feminine/wife things and pain in others? And what about Louis in Dubai now?

but if we're in a space where we can't even give a cis black man space for such gender role/presentation analysis because folks are operating under false pretenses of the very notion of femininity equalling womanhood, and specifically a demeaning and degrading form of womanhood, how the fuck are any trans discussions supposed to occur?

#Louis #meta #I don't think I'm gonna put this in the main tags

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fablesrose · 3 months

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Ch 11 - The Ice Man Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: With Sophie gone to find herself, the crew is out a grifter. This leads to Hardison getting a little cocky when clearing their client's name from a diamond theft.

Words: 7077

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room felt a bit empty with Sophie gone; I could tell Parker felt the same as she shifted across the couch, trying to fill the space during the briefing. Hardison stood at the front of the room telling us about Jim Kerrity who was in charge of Kerrity Diamonds. In his four years of being in charge, he’s run the business into the ground by living beyond his means with addictions and party expenditures.

Eventually Hardison was getting annoyed with Parker’s shifting, “What? Why? What are you doing?” He asked her.

“What?” She replied.

“It’s distracting,” Eliot exclaimed.

“The couch is feeling a little empty,” she explained, her voice a little distressed.

“Eliot, sit next to Parker,” Nate said.

“No, I’m sitting here!”

I turned to Parker from my curled up position on the edge, “I can try to spread out a bit, would that help?”

Her face scrunched in a frown, trying to think.

“Guys, guys,” Nate interjected, “We all miss Sophie, I… We just have to adapt.”

“I got this,” Hardison said, walking towards Parker, “Move, go. Bye, go.” He motioned for her to scootch to the center of the couch and sat next to her. “You happy?” He asked, only continuing in the briefing once she nodded.

“Kerrity’s finances are a mess. Maxed out, maxed out, overdrawn,” Hardison explained. “According to the insurance claim, he stands to gain nine million from the armored car robbery.”

“A guy like this gets in over his head and the insurance policy starts to look attractive,” Nate summed up.

“Hires a couple of thugs, knocks off his own truck,” Eliot said.

“It’s a sweet payout, too,” Hardison admitted. “He gets the insurance claim, plus he still has the diamonds.”

“Mmhmm, and honest people like Joey take the heat,” Eliot finished.

“The thing about this that people don’t understand is insurance fraud, it’s a lot of red tape,” Nate explained, “and with a big claim like this it’ll take a year before Kerrity sees any money. Bill collectors are not gonna wait around.”

“He’s gotta fence the diamonds,” Eliot said.

“He can’t,” Parker stated.

“What?” I asked, everything moving a bit fast.

“His diamonds are GIA certified VVS clarity, all about two carats,” Parker rattles off, stealing the remote from Hardison.

“That’s my clicker,” Hardison pointed out, annoyed.

“Who stole the Polar Star?” Parker asked, raising her hand, “Who stole the Gem of Gibraltar? Damiani Raid? Me. I know diamonds, and our bad guy can’t fence those diamonds because stones that size have an ID number laser-inscribed on them.”

The screen zoomed in on a diamond to show this tiny ID number etched into the side, proving her point.

“Like a stolen car. You’ve gotta clean the VIN before you sell ‘em,” Eliot concluded.

“How do you get that ID off?” I asked.

“With a special laser,” Parker answered, “But only three guys can do it. Antwerp, Dubai, Tel Aviv.”

“And as of right now, Boston. Right?” Nate said, standing in front of us. “Kerrity has to move his diamonds, so we convince him that we’re the only people who can make them clean enough to move.”

“Get them to bring the diamonds to us,” Hardison said.

“And when he shows up, uh…” Nate paused, “Oh, Hardison, can you put the crime scene photos…?”

Hardison took the clicker remote back from Parker and put the photos up. The photo showed our client, Joey, sitting in the armored truck with a paramedic tending to his wounded shoulder. There was a man standing to the side talking to him, a notebook in hand.

“State police guy, Lieutenant Bonanno,” Eliot introduced the man.

“Yeah. So we drop Kerrity on his lap with the stolen diamonds,” Nate explained, “Lieutenant Bonanno drops the hammer. Our guy gets cleared, gets his job back.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t mean to stop the fun train,” Eliot interjected. “We’re out a grifter here.”

“I know who we can call,” Parker volunteered.

“Now, we’re not gonna call Sophie,” Nate disagreed. “No, she has asked for space, and we’re gonna honor that. No. Hardison, Y/n, you are gonna be our grifters.”

Hardison leaned forward with a smile, “I’m listening.”

“What? No.” Eliot shook his head in disbelief.

“Is it too late for me to pretend like I don’t know about,” I waved my hands around the room, “this whole operation?”

“Yes,” Nate answered me and Eliot at the same time, “Parker, you’ll be the roper.”

“What?” She asked puzzledly.

“Cute dress, heels, you’ll be fine.”

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” Parker whispered to herself.

I looked at her and could feel the anxiety rolling off of her. I nudged her shoulder to catch her attention. Once she looked at me, I nodded reassuringly at her, “We’ll be okay, we’ll figure it out. You’re not alone, we’ll help each other.”

She nodded a bit more firmly, but I could tell she was still anxious.

“Eliot, you’ll be the muscle,” Nate continued.

A little while later, I found Parker hiding under the counter, talking to someone on the phone. I stood in the kitchen, quietly listening. It didn’t take long to figure out that she was talking to Sophie as Parker explained the situation to her.

“I will not be fine,” she exclaimed, “I stabbed that guy with a fork!”

Well, I didn’t know that little detail.

“Parker, Parker, relax” Sophie soothed, her voice softly coming through the phone, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s fine. Listen. Go to Nate’s storage cupboard and you're gonna find a sexy little mini-dress and my emergency Jimmy Choos.”

“Jimmy who? You have a body in Nate’s closet?”

“Shoes, Parker. Didn’t I teach you any...? Alright listen, this is the important bit. Do you still have the Rosalind Diamond you stole in Perth?”

“Yes,” she answered.

I huffed out a breath, I really shouldn’t be surprised.

“Wear it. The diamond will speak for you. You won’t have to say a word,” Sophie said. “This is the key to the grift. You just trust the character. Say nothing. Trust the diamond.”

“I can do that,” Parker relented. “Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“I won’t,” she reassured.

Parker caught my eye as she crawled out from under the counter. I motioned that my lips were sealed which helped her relax a little bit. Now to see if Sophie’s advice proved successful.

Parker was able to keep her cool and lead Kerrity to the back of the bar where Hardison, Eliot, and I were waiting, playing pool.

“No,” Hardison slammed his cue on the table once he saw them turning the corner. “Come here, what have I said? What have I said about new people, huh?”

I raised my eyebrow at Eliot at Hardison’s attitude and accent. He just rolled his eyes in response before he slammed Kerrity into the pool table.

“Hey, it's okay,” Parker said, “This guy works in diamonds. He wants to talk business or something.”

“Alright,” Hardison relented. “Lay the arms down brother. He’s cool.”

Eliot let him up with a shove.

“You’ll have to excuse my bodyguard. He’s touchy. It’s ‘cuz he’s a mute. Alright?”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at Eliot’s pissed off expression.

“Yeah, well, my bodyguards don’t talk much either,” Kerrity responded, as three intimidating looking men entered the area.

“Well, looks like we found our armored car robbers,” Nate said through comms.

I hummed quietly, noting the conclusion.

Some dominance had to be established, some control. Hardison and Eliot saw it too, and after a look was shared, Eliot got one of the so-called ‘bodyguards’ into an arm lock behind his back, using him as a shield when another guard had drawn a gun.

“Going to shoot through your own man?” I asked the one with the gun. He had a look in his eye that said he was seriously considering it.

His eyes flicked to me, a look of recognition noting that I was in play. “To be honest with you, I never liked him,” he said in a noticeable Russian accent.

“Legit,” Hardison said. “Goon squad and all, isn’t it? Stand down.”

There was a tense beat before the Russian lowered his weapon. I stepped around the pool table and placed a hand on Eliot’s shoulder right as he released the man he was holding. My hand slid off as I stepped past him, perching myself on the table, placing myself more front and center.

“Jim Kerrity,” he introduced himself.

“You’re Jim Kerrity? Kerrity Diamonds?” Hardison asked. “Brother, you got it all last week.”

“The heist. Yes, that was me.”

“So, did you use these fellas here, or hire out?” I asked, making a show of examining my nails. I could see out of the corner of my eye that Eliot had closed the gap, ready to step in front of me if necessary.

“We’re in the business, Jimmy boy. I can smell an inside job,” Hardison explained.

“So what do you do in the business, Mr…?”

“I’m a thief.They call me… The Ice Man,” Hardison said with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes just as Nate repeated the name questioningly.

“No, Hardison, you have to have a light touch. Undersell,” Nate said.

“What kind of thief calls themselves a thief?” Kerrity asked.

“An arrogant one,” I responded. I offered my hand to Kerrity, which he took just the fingers, and turned it with a slight bow of his head.

“Doesn’t matter, I have the reputation to prove it,” Hardison rebutted, annoyedly. “This is my assistant-”

“Annaka,” I cut in, “and I prefer ‘his more subtle associate.’”

Kerrity smiled, looking me up and down, “I don’t suppose you have a boyfriend, do you?”

Eliot took a half step forward, giving Kerrity the hint to back up. I simply gave him a tight smile, not answering his question. I did dress up a little bit, a blouse and nice pants. I wanted to look nice, but professional. The fact that he still felt the need to comment and shoot his shot made my skin crawl a bit.

“I’m sure you’ve seen my work in Perth. The Polar Star? Nicked it.The Gem of Gibraltar? Nicked it,” Hardison bragged, which pulled the attention back to himself.

I looked to Parker who started to pace behind him as he continued to use her thefts for his reputation.

“Then I shouldn’t be seen talking to you,” Kerrity concluded.

“Right, right, right. Cause two criminals can’t talk business while shootin’ pool. Bitch of it is nickin’ ‘em’s butter…” Hardison trailed off.

“Moving them is the issue,” I finished, “I’m sure you know something about that.”

“Yes, especially with those inscribed ID numbers,” Kerrity agreed.

“There are ways around that,” I commented.

“I got this laser, see,” Hardison continued, “Only one in the country, mind you. This thing, I had to bring over piece by soddin’ piece from Turkmenistan. It can scrub and ID clean off any diamond. Re-virginized.”

“And what kind of fee do you charge for such a service?” Kerrity asked.

“Thirty percent,” Hardison answered.

“Five percent.”

“Thirty percent,” Hardison reiterated.

“No way in hell.”

“That’s the discounted rate, brother. Cause anything lower than that is an insulted rate, cause it's an insult to me, savvy?”

I jumped in to even out the tension, “You said it yourself, Kerrity, it’s a very specialized service. If you can somehow transport your diamonds elsewhere, get someone else to do it, be our guest.” I slid off the pool table and returned to my spot on the end, grabbing my pool cue, “I will say, good luck executing that, let alone getting a better rate.” I began to rechalk my cue, not trusting myself to take a shot just yet.

“You, uh, you ring me when you wisen up, hear?” Hardison said, writing his phone number on a napkin.

Kerrity looked at the napkin for a moment before throwing it on the table, “Thanks, but no thanks, brother.” He swiftly walked away.

The Russian walked up and grabbed the napkin carefully before walking away, following Kerrity.

I let out a sigh in relief once they were gone. I finally leaned down and took a shot, hissing when the ball glanced off a corner, just out of the pocket.

“Close,” Eliot commented before taking his own shot, sinking it easily, and moving on to the next one.

“Why do I even bother?” I asked myself.

Eliot stepped up next to me, “You’ve gotta start somewhere, we’ll just have to practice more in the pub.”

“Hey,” Hardison cut in, “You can’t talk, remember?”

“Dammit, Hardison!” Eliot exclaimed, continuing to shoot pool, finishing the game quickly. He continued to berate him saying that it was stupid.

As he shot each ball in, one after the other, I couldn’t help but focus on how he’d said that we should practice. The fact he wanted to do it together warmed my heart a little bit. As I started to imagine it, I couldn’t stop the image of Eliot looking at Mikel from the last job popping into my head. The image of Eliot’s blush when Mikel brought out handcuffs flashed before I fought it down. It shouldn’t have bothered me, it was none of my business. We were coworkers, friends at best. Still, I could enjoy the feelings he gave me and the moments we had together.

Once Eliot sunk his last shot, he left the bar. I helped clean up before the rest of us followed him.’

“Ice Man?” Eliot asked Hardison once we got back to Nate’s apartment.

“Hey, I put a lot of work into that character,” Hardison defended. “No, no, no, I bought new clothes, ugly as hell, too.”

“You got that right,” I whispered to Parker and she smiled at me.

“This always happens when you go on the grift, Hardison,” Eliot said, “you go way too big.”

“You have to have some subtlety,” I commented.

“Yeah, Sophie told me to say as little as possible,” Parker explained, “let the character do the work.”

“When did, uh, Sophie say that?” Nate asked, walking down the stairs into the common area of the apartment.

“A long time ago,” Parker said quickly, “maybe last Christmas. I don’t even think it was Sophie.”

Nate wasn’t quite convinced, but moved on anyway, straightening his tie, “I’m gonna go put more pressure on Kerrity. I want you guys to be on the clear-out. Ice Man, play it cool. That’s just an awful, awful name.”

“Genius,” Hardison tried to correct in his character’s accent.

“See?” Eliot said. “When you get in too deep on this, I ain’t bailin’ your ass out.”

“I don’t need you to bail me out. I’m the Ice Man.”

“Not. Gonna. Help.” Eliot emphasized again.

I laughed at their expressions, clearly annoyed at each other. “Well, what’s done is done. Let’s just hope we can still pull this off. Even with Hardison’s accent,” I continued to laugh at myself as I retreated to my apartment.

It didn’t take long after Nate put some pressure on Kerrity as an insurance guy that Kerrity called Hardison to set up a meeting to see the laser at work. Parker, Eliot, and I drove to the lab where we were going to ‘borrow’ a laser.

Once we pulled up, Eliot was on the phone with someone, but Parker and I could only hear his side of the conversation: “I know. He’s driving me crazy. How, huh? I’m back up, they can’t rely on me. Alright, alright. Hey… thanks. Don’t tell Nate I called.”

“Who was that?” Parker asked.

Eliot hesitated, “Cable company.”

Parker and I shared a look before I handed her the duffle bag from Eliot’s truck bed and sent them into the lab. Parker and Eliot went in and cleared out the lab with a chemical exposure evacuation, leaving it empty for our purposes. They set up a camera so Nate could see what was going on, and got ready for Kerrity’s arrival.

I stayed in the parking lot waiting for Kerrity to pull in. I timed my approach into the building to run into him and walk him into the lab.

“Mr. Kerrity, so glad you could make it,” I said, meeting him just before the door.

He opened the door for me, “Pleasure is mine, Ms. Annaka.”

I led him and the Russian he brought with him through the hallways to the lab where Parker and Eliot were waiting.

“Where is Mr. Ice?” Kerrity asked once we stepped inside.

“He’s late,” Parker responded, “He’s always late.”

There was a roar of an engine outside. We all glanced out and watched as Hardison pulled up in a red Ferrari.

“Hmm. Subtle,” Kerrity commented.

“While he walks in,” I said, “May I see the stone?”

Kerrity presented the diamond, “Two carats. Very few flaws, my salesman said.”

I pulled out a jewelry loupe, a type of mini magnifying glass, that I picked up somewhere and examined the stone. I found the ID number, though it was still too small to quite read it. I commented that I found it and examined the body of the stone. I had little to no idea what I was looking for, but I figured he didn’t either.

I finally looked up at him, “It’s a good stone, Mr. Kerrity. It should do nicely.”

Just as I had said so, Hardison walked into the lab with smug grandeur, “The Ice Man cometh.” He gestured to the machine on the table, “Let me introduce you to my laser, Glinda. You see, I found that laser fluences below the diamond graphitization threshold are most effective. Wouldn’t you say?”

Eliot and I made eye contact and shook our heads when Kerrity and the Russian weren’t looking. He was doing too much.

“Yeah,” Kerrity hesitantly agreed. Clearly not knowing what the heck he said, like the rest of us.

“The diamond?” Hardison asked.

Kerrity gestured to me as I handed the stone over to Hardison. I was tempted to make an ‘oops, I lost it’ joke, but knew that wasn’t wise, for both the tension and the character.

Hardison examined it, “She’s a beaut. Sheila, get me a pop.” He didn’t even look at Parker when he asked which I could tell she didn’t appreciate, even through her hard neutral expression.

“Because this will be classified IF, an internally flawless two-carat round cut diamond, it should be easy to oblate,” Hardison continued, placing the diamond in place for the laser.

Parker was out grabbing a cubic zirconia from a neighboring lab to replace the diamond while grabbing that pop.

“How is this gonna fool him?” She asked Nate.

“He’s not looking at the diamond, he’s looking at the ID number,” he responded.

“ID numbers are etched at a depth between five and seven microns,” Hardison explained while the laser ran around the diamond. “Using nanoblation, the UV laser pulses irradiate the etching.”

Parker walked in then with an open can of pop and handed it to Hardison.

“Thank you, sweets.”

Kerrity turned to me, “I haven’t seen you contribute much to this partnership.”

I smiled softly, nodding towards Hardison, “He likes to show off in front of new clients, I don’t mind being more behind the scenes.”

He hummed curiously before turning back to Hardison who was taking the diamond out of the machine. I saw Hardison’s switch of the diamond for the cubic zirconia, only because I was looking for it. He handed the fake stone over to Kerrity to examine. Kerrity took it and looked it over with his own loupe.

There was a tense moment when Kerrity looked at Hardison before he said, “It’s like it was never there.”

“I could do the rest in a day, but I’m only here for another week. I’ve got a thing in Antwerp.”

“Alright,” Kerrity said, “let’s, uh, let’s do it tomorrow?”

“Done.”

“Excellent. Mr. Ice, Ms. Annaka.” Kerrity then left the lab with his Russian companion close behind.

“Alright, nice work guys,” Nate said through comms. “Tomorrow, when he shows up with the diamonds, the state police will be there.”

“Why, so they can arrest Hardison’s ego?” Eliot asked as we exited the building.

“They better bring some extra large handcuffs,” I laughed.

“Be cool, baby. Ice cool,” Hardison replied. “Hey, who wants to go for a spin?”

“Can’t believe you rented a Ferrari,” Eliot said.

“Rented?”

“I’ll get a ride home with Eliot,” Parker said.

“Maybe some other time, Hardison,” I responded, “I’m kinda tired, gonna lay down in Eliot’s back seat.”

Hardison scoffed, “Y’all are just jealous,” but we were already crossing the parking lot.

I did just what I said I was going to when I crawled in the back seat, leaving Parker and Eliot up front. I had to curl up a bit, but it was decently comfortable on the worn seat, making it soft.

“Hey, you alright?” Eliot asked once he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yeah, I think I was just stressed, and now that this is almost over-” I yawned, “I’m just a bit tired is all.”

Eliot adjusted his rear view mirror a touch so he could make eye contact with me through it, “Well, ya did good. You deserve some rest.” I could feel the sincerity, even through the mirror and sunglasses he was wearing. I smiled and nodded at him, silently thanking him.

Parker then turned and reached a hand towards me which I took with a squeeze, “Yeah, look at us, being grifters. I didn’t even stab anyone!”

“I’m proud of us, Parker,” I said, squeezing her hand one more time before taking my hand back and curling it next to me. My eyes then closed of their own accord, the steady hum of the engine lulling me, if not asleep, away from active wakefulness.

Eventually we got back to the pub and Nate and I’s apartments. I slightly stirred when Eliot turned his truck off, but I couldn’t quite wake myself up until he placed a hand on my shoulder, calling my name. His hand was warm, the gentle movement slowly pulled me out of the slumber I had slipped into. I admit I was slow to move, but Eliot and Parker were patient with me until I got to my door. I trudged through my entry way to my couch, my limbs were heavy, as if I had been physically working all day for the past week. I must have been tense, holding all the stress in my body, for the past two days, trying to be natural and convince Kerrity of our legitimateness.

Oh the irony.

I collapsed on the cushions, letting out a sigh in relief. If all went to plan, tomorrow I wouldn’t even have to play a character. It would all be in the police’s hands then.

It didn’t seem like I was out for very long when Parker was standing above me, practically dragging me off my couch.

“Did I forget to lock my door?” I asked, still waking up.

“No,” she responded simply.

“What’s going on?”

“Hardison got kidnapped by the Russians.”

“Oh.”

We walked through the door to find Eliot angrily shoving an earbud in place, “Tell Hardison if he makes it out alive, I’m gonna snap him in half.”

“Uh, Eliot says hi,” Nate said, apparently into the comms to Hardison. “So what’s the plan there, Ice Man?”

I pulled my own earbud from my pocket and put it in, just in time to hear Hardison explain it, somewhat tactfully in the midst of… company.

“Just so I’m clear, you want me to help break into Kerrity’s vault and steal his diamonds?”

“Oh, beautiful,” Nate commented.

“So, what you’re sayin’ is we’re gonna explode through the ceiling of a tunnel, use a det cord and climb into the vault through the floor?”

“Det cord,” Eliot honed in. “That’s how they blew the armored truck.”

“Exploding through the floor will set the sensor off,” Parker said. “Tunnel’s a terrible way in.”

“Hardison, you’re gonna tell ‘em their plan won’t work,” Nate said.

“Tunnel is a horrible way in,” Parker reemphasized.

“I heard you Parker.”

We listened as Hardison relayed the news, which didn’t seem to go over well with the Russians to the point where Hardison had to commit to getting them in the vault.

“Oh, yes. Of course you will,” Nate said, “Now listen. Hardison, you’re gonna have to figure out a way to buy some time so we can get you outta this. Yeah, get busy.” Nate then took his earpiece out with frustration.

Nate was typing on Hardison’s computer for a little bit before he eventually said, “Guys, guys, I can’t make any sense of Hardison’s files.”

I gestured to it, pulling the computer a bit closer to me, sorting through files to see if there was anything I recognized.

“Do you think you can…?” Nate asked me.

I shook my head, “No idea, probably not.” I had helped Hardison out with some of his technical stuff a time or two, but he did most of the heavy lifting.

“You can’t track him,” Eliot pointed out, “he’s the one that does the tracking.”

“Well maybe he left it on,” Nate hoped.

“Unlikely,” I said, sorting through more files, all of them encrypted.

“What if we tell him to make a run for it?” Parker suggested.

“They’ll kill him,” Eliot answered.

“Well, if he goes along with their plan, they’ll get arrested,” Parker pointed out.

“We gotta find another way for Hardison to break in,” Nate concluded.

“We need a closer look at the vault,” Parker said.

“I’m working on it,” Nate said.

Parker held a small can to us, “Hairspray, you’ll need this.”

“Let me ask you a question, man,” Eliot said. “If Hardison helps these Russians steal the evidence, how are we gonna prove Kerrity set up the robbery?”

“I’m working on it,” Nate stuttered. He gathered his clipboard and papers needed for his insurance agent persona. Parker handed him the can of hairspray; Nate took it and waved at us, “Do not call Sophie.” Nate then dashed out of the apartment, supposedly to Kerrity’s shop.

I worked for a little bit longer on Hardison’s laptop, trying to find anything that could help, but every time I thought I was close to cracking into something useful, I hit a dead end. I sighed, I would have to have Hardison teach me some of this stuff with his systems in case something like this happened again. When I was just about to give up, Nate got to Kerrity’s shop, and a notification popped up that a connected camera was in use. I cast the video onto the large screen in the living room so we could see what he was doing.

Nate had a camera pen directed at Kerrity’s vault to gain more information, mostly for Parker, and for Hardison to relay to the Russians to pretend he knew what he was doing.

“RGB keypad, let me see,” Parker said, “Move the camera to the left… No, vault left. Alright, then you have to do this my way. Remove the sensor while keeping the magnetic field intact. You are going to need a four inch by four inch aluminum plate, double sided tape, and a phillips head screwdriver.”

I slumped into the couch, watching Parker analyze the vault and listening to Hardison relay the information to the Russians. Eliot stood next to Parker, his focus as sharp as ever. The truth of the matter was, everyone here knew at least something that might help Hardison, but I was still stuck dead in the water. I watched, trying to learn.

Kerrity kept listing more safety features inside the vault: pressure sensitive tiles, two cameras monitored by a twenty four hour guard and Kerrity himself, seismic sensor, heat sensors, and motion sensors. This was becoming more and more difficult by the minute.

“Hardison’s not gonna be able to do anything if the heat sensors are on,” Eliot said.

“Nate, use the hairspray,” Parker instructed. “It creates a film that blocks the heat.”

Nate distracted Kerrity long enough to follow through. Then Kerrity told Nate about the security fog that fills the room after the alarm goes off; this fog makes visibility zero. To make matters worse, it would be triggered by any one of the other sensors.

“How bad is it?” Nate asked quietly once Kerrity was out of earshot.

“There’s no way Hardison’s gonna be able to break into that vault,” Parker said matter-of-factly.

“What is Hardison going to do?” Hardison asked, without the accent, so he must be away from the Russians.

“Hardison is going to pretend to break into the vault,” Nate said.

“Well, hopefully the Russians will only pretend to kill him,” Eliot replied.

“No one’s getting killed,” Nate assured. “We’re gonna break in for him.”

The three of us just sat staring at each other, lost in our own thoughts, waiting for Nate to get back to explain what he was thinking. I could see the wheels turning in Parker’s head, going through all the steps to break into the vault. Eliot had a tenseness about him, whether that be anger or concern, I couldn’t tell.

“We’re gonna do this quick and dirty,” Nate said once he got back. “You guys break into the vault before Hardison does, so the Russians think that he’s doing it.”

“Why not?” Parker said. “He’s been taking credit for my work all day anyway.”

“Then Hardison will lead the Russians into the vault a few paces behind him,” Nate concluded.

“Hey, I got something,” Parker said after messing with Hardison’s clicker. The screen showed the security camera feed to the front of Kerrity’s store. Kerrity was showing a fancily dressed woman around his store along with all of the jewelry in the cases.

“Hardison must have hacked into the security feed before he left,” Eliot said.

“Well, well. I’m just gonna have to keep Kerrity out of his own vault,” Nate said, staring at the screen.

We all then loaded up to go save Hardison.

Once we arrived, Nate knocked on the door of the shop first. Kerrity quickly dismissed the woman with him, saying that he would meet up with her later, and let Nate in.

“This had better be important,” Kerrity said when he opened the door.

“Yeah. Can we talk somewhere private?” Nate asked, stepping into the shop.

I then walked in, just catching the door before they went to his back office.

Kerrity was surprised to see me, “Annaka?”

I smiled, obviously flicking my eyes between him and Nate. “Hello, Mr. Kerrity,” I said cautiously.

He caught the hint, “This is Mr. Sterling with the insurance company, he came to discuss something with me.”

“I hope I’m not hindering something here,” Nate said as he shook my hand with a sickly sweet salesman voice that he’s been using.

I shook my head, “Not at all.” I looked to Kerrity, “I don’t mind waiting, finish your business with Mr. Sterling.”

He nodded and brought Nate into his office.

Eliot was at the door just as they turned the corner in an armored truck company uniform with a cart. The guard buzzed him in just as I got to the door to open it for him. The guard came down with some paperwork for Eliot, assuming he was there for delivery.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he whispered to me as I held the door open for him to walk through more easily. He then turned to the guard, “Yo, yo. Late night man. Is there a register I’m supposed to look at?” Eliot was there at the dest with the guard by then and quickly knocked him out. “Sorry, buddy,” he said as he walked by.

I walked to Eliot and the guard, helping tuck him out of sight and out of the way for the rest of the night.

“Okay Parker, you’re clear,” Eliot told her through comms, “come on down.”

She had perched herself on a ledge next to the security camera facing the street, holding a photo of an armored truck on the street for the guard’s benefit. I could almost feel her joy as she came down with her rig. I quickly let her in so she could get to the vault. I then stationed myself in the security room watching the cameras. I was out of sight and out of the way for the essential gears of the operation, but still in the shop if I needed to lend a hand somewhere, namely keeping Kerrity busy.

Nate was talking to Kerrity about his insurance policy and discrepancies that may deny his claim, trying to keep him occupied for as long as he could. So far, he was successful. Hopefully he could keep it up.

Meanwhile, Parker was working on the vault, getting it cracked and ready for Hardison.

“This will hold them together,” she said softly as she placed the aluminum plates on the vault.

“Electric’s faster,” Eliot said as he handed her a screwdriver.

“Vibrations will set off the seismic sensor,” she replied simply.

Eliot shook his head and returned to the front of the store.

Parker continued to work on the vault with quick efficiency. It was interesting to watch through the camera as there was no hesitation in any of her movements.

It didn’t take as long as I had hoped for movement on the outside camera to catch my attention. A big black van pulled up in front with Hardison and the Russians hopping out of it.

“Here they come,” I said.

Hardison reiterated it with his own quiet announcement, “Eliot, approaching the building. Approaching the building.” He then switched to his accent for the Russians, “Wait here, right? Gotta handle the initial break-in myself. Too many cooks and all.”

Eliot buzzed Hardison in when he banged on the door. They then proceeded to act out Hardison beating up Eliot. I winced, but was impressed at how realistic it looked when Eliot threw himself to the ground. Hardison continued to ‘punch’ Eliot for an extended amount of time while the two argued.

“Next time,” Eliot said, “I’m playing the thief!”

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Hardison said.

“I’d like to hear you do an accent,” Eliot replied.

“I went to Second City in Chicago.”

“You find time between that and karate at the Y?”

“You know what? Just shut up. Shut up.”

“Shut up, guys,” Parker said calmly, trying to concentrate on the vault.

She was able to get in when Hardison and Eliot finished their act, Eliot acting unconscious and Hardison letting in the Russians. Nate continued to distract Kerrity, shifting to his second point, the bribe. So far, so good.

Eliot joined me in the security room and watched as Parker hung on the inside of the door and leapt to a bar or pipe on the ceiling, preventing her from touching the floor and triggering the pressure tiles.

“Stuck it,” Eliot commented in praise.

“Indeed,” I agreed, impressed.

Hardison made his way to the vault, making a bit of a show of taking steps to crack the vault. He put a stethoscope to the vault door to ‘pick’ the vault combo.

“Parker wrote the combination in invisible ink on the door next to you,” Eliot told Hardison. “She’s in there, but she hasn’t deactivated the floor yet.”

“So take your time on the tumblers. Take it slow,” I said.

He was able to delay a bit by talking to the Russians. “Sorry?” He asked when the leader spoke up.

“I said you’re really everything you claimed,” the Russian repeated.

Hardison shrugged, “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’.”

“Yes, you are. Yes, you are,” the Russian laughed. “I’m sorry, just a saying. English, very tricky.”

Hardison went back to the tumblers.

“Hardison, slow down. You’re breezing through that combo, like, way too fast,” Eliot said. “Parker, what’s your ETA?”

“Not ready yet. Floor is still hot,” she replied.

Eliot and I shared a concerned look.

“Nate, our timing’s not gonna work out,” Eliot said.

Nate, of course, couldn’t answer as he was still keeping Kerrity busy. That was quickly reaching its end though as Kerrity wasn’t taking the bribing narrative that Nate was selling.

“Parker, get a move on. Nate and Hardison are way ahead of you,” Eliot said.

“The floor is clear.”

“Nate, Parker is still in the vault.”

The Russians were pressing Hardison to get in the vault, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of stalling.

“I need sixty seconds,” Parker said.

“Well, can you turn invisible in sixty seconds? Cause they’re bustin’ in there,” Eliot replied.

“I’m gonna go slow Hardison down, buy her some time,” I said, walking out of the security room.

“Y/n-” Eliot tried to say, but I was already gone.

I walked the hallway towards the vault until the Russians and Hardison came into view. Hardison was just about to open the door when I called, “Ice!”

The four of them turned to me, the Russians clearly not happy. I suddenly took a hard swallow, I might not have thought this through.

“Annaka? What are you doin’ here?” Hardison asked, looking a bit relieved at the distraction.

“You think I wouldn’t find you? We had a plan when it came to situations such as these, you are undermining your reputation from a business perspective! Who is going to work with us now if you just keep stealing their stuff?” I said it all quickly and with exasperation. I could hear my own nervousness, and I hoped that the distance I kept between myself and the Russians wasn’t too suspicious.

“I’m sorry, hun,” Hardison said, “But this was an offer I couldn’t refuse, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” the Russian said, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a job to do.”

They turned back towards the door and away from me.

“Parker?” I whispered, not sure how else to hold them.

“I’m clear,” she said.

“Fine!” I said to the men in front of me, ready to make my leave, “But I want nothing to do with it!” I then turned on my heel and left the room, hearing the vault open behind me.

I heard Hardison say, “Don’t worry ‘bout her. She won’t do nothin’. Let’s get this done.”

I went back to the security room where Eliot was watching the security feeds tensely. “How’s it going?” I asked once I stood next to him.

“Fine, thanks to you,” he said, “But that was reckless. Those Russians could have done somethin’ to you, could have killed you.”

I let out a shaky breath, “Yeah, I realized that once I got there.”

Our work here was done, so Eliot and I made our way out of the shop into the tunnel below for the final escape.

“Guys, uh, Kerrity is on his way down there,” Nate said when he wasn’t able to hold him in his office any longer.

Hardison was able to distract the Russians with Kerrity’s arrival long enough for Hardison to slip into Parker’s hiding spot, one of the large lock boxes. Parker blew a hole in the floor, dropping the two of them into the tunnel below where Eliot and I were waiting. This, coincidentally, also set off the seismic sensor and the security system. Who knew?

“Det cord,” Eliot explained simply to Hardison as we helped them up from the floor.

We then made our way out of the tunnel to fresh air and freedom. Nate was waiting for us at the end of it.

“Thought we couldn’t use this tunnel,” Hardison said once we were out.

“Tunnel’s a horrible way in,” Nate replied, “but it’s a great way out.”

Once we were back, we reviewed what happened through the video feed Hardison had hacked. Hardison left the lock box with the diamonds tactfully open for when the police came to respond to the tripped alarm. This helped Lieutenant Bonanno find them; and with Kerrity reporting that his loose diamonds were stolen, this might as well have been an open and shut case. The matching ID numbers would just be the nails in the coffin.

We were able to clear our client’s name and score him some cash from the swiped diamond we got after lasering off the ID number. As usual, this called for a celebration in the pub while Nate shared the good news with the client.

Parker, Eliot, Hardison, and I all sat at the corner of the bar, it becoming a usual spot. Hardison turned back to the bar laughing after seeing the happy look on our client’s face.

“What are you smilin’ at?” Eliot asked. “You still screwed it up.”

“I’m smiling cause you said if I got in trouble, you wouldn’t help me,” he responded.

“Parker made me,” Eliot excused.

“No, I didn’t,” she denied.

“Come on, man. Let’s hug it out,” Hardison said.

“I’m not hugging it out, Ice Man.”

“Just hug it… Just a little man love.”

“I’m not hugging it out with you.”

They went back and forth before Hardison forced himself onto Eliot in one of the most awkward hugs I’ve ever seen. Parker looked almost just as uncomfortable, but I just chuckled at them.

Eliot eventually freed himself from Hardison’s grasp and stepped away from the bar. He stepped over to where I sat and said to me, “I promised you some pool practice, do you wanna go?”

I nodded, smiling at Parker and Hardison before turning fully to Eliot, “Yeah, let’s go.” I slid off the stool, standing next to him for a moment.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me towards the pool table at the back of the pub. His hand sent warmth through me, even as he was still grumbling about Hardison under his breath. I came to the conclusion that no matter how he looks at other women, Mikel, or anything else that may come up, I can still enjoy these moments with him. The moments where he’s comforting, protective, and now, when he just wants a bit of escape, and he could find that in me and playing pool, no matter my skill level.

It might mean a little to him, these little moments, but they meant something to me, and that is all that really mattered.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

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#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

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