#like it's only been a week and now ben's there being all pathetic

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch.5

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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You could feel how hot your cheeks were still. Ever since you had kissed Miguel's cheek, you couldn't stop thinking about him. He was so nice to you and such a gentlemen. Honestly, all you saw were green flags coming from him. You really wanted to keep seeing him and talking to him and just, enjoying how you felt around him.

You were currently at work, wrapping some meat for a custom order. It was strange. Immediately after your first date with Miguel, your work load got easier. You didn't feel as stressed or tired anymore that you were actually able to eat normally again.

"The usual?" Your supervisor asked.

Your ears perked up, turning your head. There was Miguel, whispering something before a bunch of men entered the third freezer. You watched as Miguel slowly walked by you, his hand swiftly patting your head.

Oh, you loved it when he did that. Miguel had started to pat your head every now and then. It was a small token of affection, but it made your body feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You thought it was silly, but you wanted Miguel to keep showing you such small affection like that.

"Clock out when I finish," Miguel whispered.

Your ears perked up and just nodded to his request. Once he entered the freezer, you scurried to your supervisor and informed him of your early leaving. Your supervisor just agreed with ease and let you finish your work.

----------

Miguel just drank in every loving look you gave him. It felt like you were so close to being his, but Miguel hasn't even kissed you yet. He was still warming you up to be his little wife. Miguel needed to know how comfortable you were with his part of his life.

Sitting against his chair, Miguel watched as his men took care of another Goblin Society member. He hummed towards the man's screams, still recalling your adorable expression to his head pats. Honestly, how innocent could someone be?

"Miguel, he isn't talking." Peter whispered. Miguel lazily glanced towards the pathetic man,

"Hobie, do whatever."

"Aye, finally."

Miguel leaned back, not interested in this anymore. He already had a long night dealing with Alchemax work, only to wake up to this fool snooping around his base. Miguel just needed his dose of stress reliever, aka you.

Once the screams finally stopped, Miguel inhaled deeply. He stood up and walked towards the body then faced his men. Taking a look at his watch, Miguel grunted lowly.

"Tighten security. The fact that such a worm like this attempted to sneak around is pathetic." He spat then turned towards Ben, "You and Jessica go to the port and check the shipment. I don't want anymore surprises."

With a wave of his hand, Miguel left the freezer first. He walked through the maze of boxes and exited. The hallway where the freezers were was empty as usual. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Miguel walked down the hallway, towards the deli.

You were looking better. It had only been two weeks since your first date, but things were changing for you for the better. Miguel made sure to have a word with the supermarket. He was going to take care of you little by little. You were deserving of his affection.

He on the other hand, did not deserve yours, but Miguel was sure as shit going to take it.

Making eye contact with you, Miguel watched as you hurried to clock out and get your stuff. Miguel was a greedy man. He always took what he wanted. That or it just happened to land on his lap, just like you did.

"S-Sorry, d-did I make you wait long?" You asked.

Miguel patted your head, enjoying the look you gave him. If only he knew it was this easy to win your heart. Miguel would have done this from the start.

"As promised, you get to pick the place for our date," Miguel said with a warm smile, walking you out of the supermarket.

"I-I saw there is this H-Halloween event in Central P-Park. P-Pumpkins, apple p-picking and some o-other stuff. C-Can we go there?" You asked him. Miguel helped you into the car,

"I'm not going to say no if it's where you want to go,"

"R-Really?!"

Watching you smile brightly, Miguel couldn't help but give in. If you wanted something, he was going to give it to you. Call it love, but Miguel was falling for you hard. His little bunny deserved everything, especially if you were going to be his.

-------

You squealed lowly as you and Miguel arrived at the event. Practically jumping in place, you grabbed Miguel's hand, wanting to look around. This was something new and actually fun. You hadn't had a chance to leave your apartment to do anything like this.

"Wah, look at those!" You whispered, spotting some stands that sold desserts.

Miguel just watched you, keeping his composure as he followed your every whim. Right now, he was outside his territory. Buying you a cupcake, Miguel watched as you stayed close to him, nibbling happily on the treat.

You couldn't stop smiling as you munched on your cupcake. For once, you actually went somewhere that you wanted to go. Not only that, but Miguel was treating you like his girlfriend. Following you around and getting you treats. It was making your heart flutter. Gripping his sleeve, you tried to hide your face as you kept enjoying your treat.

Miguel kept his arm was wrapped around you waist, keeping an eye out. Some of his men were around to keep guard, but Miguel still had to be careful. After all, everything worked out when he took care of it himself.

Miguel's goal was to have the whole city of Nueva York under his command. He was almost there, but there were still some small gangs and enemies who tried to stand in his way. Miguel wasn't going to let those scum win. Not when he was so close to being in charge of everything.

"Mhm~ Sure you don't want one?" You asked. Miguel leaned down towards you, his forehead against yours,

"If you let me lick off your crumbs," He whispered, watching your face turn bright red.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he wiped some frosting off you lip and proceeded to lick it off his finger. You squeaked and hid your face in your sleeve, while he scrunched up in disgust. Miguel was never a fan of sweets, but he'll do anything for you.

"W-Want....Want to pick out a p-pumpkin?" You asked lowly. Miguel played with you hair in response,

"Sure,"

You threw away your wrapper, still holding onto Miguel's hand. Your heart was racing since Miguel was the one who asked you to hold onto him at all times. You were feeling embarrassed. These dates were making you want Miguel more and more.

You were just scared.

Scared of another Eddie. You gave yourself the better of the doubt, wanting to believe Miguel to be different. So far, he sure did feel different, but deep down...You were still terrified of him turning around and turning into another Eddie.

Stopping at the pumpkin patch, you curiously looked around, wanting to distract your mind. You were having a good time with Miguel. It was best to avoid thinking about the past. Once you found the perfect pumpkin, you cheered quietly. You wanted to try and make your own pumpkin desserts. Give them to Miguel as a gift for taking good care of you. Picking up the pumpkin, you smiled and showed Miguel.

Right as you did, an explosion happened.

Miguel immediately grabbed you, pulling you into his embrace as he signaled his men to check it out. Miguel cussed lowly as he recognized the laughter to be Goblin's and his crew. Holding your head in place, Miguel swiftly picked you up and took you back to his car.

"M-Miguel," You whimpered, shaking as you still held your pumpkin.

"My driver will take you home. Text me when you arrive."

"W-Wait," You whimpered, putting your pumpkin down and hugging Miguel's waist, "P-Please...Please don't go."

"I have to," Miguel stroked your cheek and placed a firm kiss against your forehead, "Text me when you get home, mi amor. (my love)"

Your lips quivered as the car drove off. You watched as Miguel pulled out a gun and ran back to where the explosion was. Tears rolled down your cheek as you trembled in fear. You just wanted him to hold you a bit longer and tell you that everything was okay.

That's all you wanted.

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Miguel cussed in Spanish, angry that his date got ruined. Things were moving along quite nicely. Miguel actually felt like you were ready for him to kiss you. But, of course, like everything else good in his life, something had to happen.

"Take them down,"

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After a few hours of endless shooting and fighting, the Goblin and his crew ended up giving up. Well, Miguel got his hands dirty and beat the living shit out of the Green Goblin himself. Once the cops showed up, Miguel and his Spiders disappeared from the scene, leaving nothing but their webs of destruction.

Riding with Peter, Miguel finally looked at his phone and saw your text. He grunted lowly, recalling your tears before he parted. In an annoyed and demanding tone, Miguel told Peter to drop him off at your place.

It was a surprise, but Peter happily agreed. Teasing Miguel about finally finding love and whatnot. Miguel tuned him out since he knew that Peter was just going to show him more pictures of Mayday, his child.

"Peter, why don't you do something productive instead?"

----------

You whimpered lowly as you took the batch of pumpkin cupcakes out of the oven. You were still waiting for Miguel to text you back. It had been hours since you've heard from him. Five hours to be exact and you only knew that because it took you four hours to boil the pumpkin for the puree.

Placing the cookies down to cool, you gasp as you heard your door bell. Quickly, you rushed over and glanced at the peep hole. Seeing Miguel, you opened the door and tackled him in a tight hug. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you cried softly.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back inside.

"I-I was s-so s-s-scared! M-Miguel, p-please..." You whimpered into his chest, then gasped moving away, "S-Sorry! I-I'm getting your shirt d-"

"I don't care about my clothes," Miguel shut the door and pulled you back into his embrace, "How are you? No lingering pain from that explosion earlier?"

This a new. Your eyes widen as tears rolled down your cheeks as Miguel observed you. He was worried about you. Asking about how you were doing. No one had ever asked if you were ever doing okay. Shaking, you gripped Miguel's sleeves and hugged him again.

"Thank you," You whispered. Miguel sighed as he stroked your hair,

"Sit down, Mi pequeño conejito (my little bunny). I need to talk to you,"

You slowly followed Miguel to your couch, rubbing your eyes. You sat beside him, noticing the furrow in his brows. This was the most annoyed you ever seen him. You played with your sleeves, worried about what this could be about.

"I need you to know about what else I do, aside from being a CEO at Alchemax."

Miguel glanced at you, watching you fidget in your seat. He scoffed lowly, wondering what you were nervous about now. Gripping his hands, Miguel tried to hold this out as longer. It was always a risk telling someone about his mafia business. He had to secure their silence before revealing his secret.

But how could he do that to you?

You could have gotten injured today because of the Goblin's bullshit. Miguel wanted to protect those he cherished. His mafia group was made to protect the innocent, despite how it seems. Fixing his posture, Miguel turned towards you.

"(Y/N), what do you know about the mafia?" He asked, making eye contact with you. You flinched,

"Um...I've watched...the G-Godfather."

"Dios Mio. (My God). Alright, my fault there, I set the bar too low," He said with a grin, "How do you feel about underworld business?"

"Hm...Not sure...what you mean,"

"(Y/N), is there anything you know about the criminal world?" Miguel asked, honestly wondering your innocence. You shook your head,

"N-Not really, just that...it's bad stuff. Um, I-I was always told...t-to keep my nose down...a-and not...not know about anyone."

Miguel raised you chin, his thumb trailing your cheek. His eyes motioned you to come closer, to which you did. Miguel could see the curiosity in your eyes. The anticipation you had the closer to got to him. Miguel kept his hand against your cheek, his body turning to face yours.

"How would you feel if I was one of those bad people?" Miguel whispered, his other hand bringing you waist closer to him.

"Y-You're not...bad to me," You whispered.

"Oh, but I am,"

Miguel's smirk grew wider as he sat you on his lap, his lips drawing closer to yours. Once he had you secured, Miguel stole your lips in a deep kiss. Your lips were soft and your grip was light. It was strange, but Miguel felt a connection.

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You trembled slightly as you drew closer to Miguel. Your body was getting hotter as your heart raced faster. Once you were on his lap, you resisted a whimper. His touch was so soft and warm. He was gentle as he stole your lips with a kiss.

You felt weak as Miguel kissed you. His kisses were deep, rough, but somehow kind. His hand held your head while his other held your waist. You could feel your body heating up. Parting your lips for air, you whimpered lowly as Miguel took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

Another whimper escaped your throat as you gripped onto Miguel's shirt. As if he understood, Miguel broke the kiss, letting you catch your breathe.

"Sorry, got carried away there," Miguel whispered, holding your waist still. You shook your head,

"I-It's fine...I enjoyed it." You admitted shyly.

Miguel raised a brow as you stopped shaking. He raised his hand to your cheek again, watching you nuzzle into his palm. He smiled, finally giving into what Peter said. Miguel pulled you into a hug, letting you rest against him as he stared at your shitty cieling.

You belonged to him now. Miguel was going to hold off telling you about his mafia business. As much as he wanted to inform you now, Miguel had to make sure you were secured with him before saying anything. It will take some time though.

"Miguel," You whispered, slowly falling asleep, "I...made you...some pumpkin cookies,"

"I'll make sure to try them," Miguel hummed.

Once you fell asleep, Miguel inhaled deeply. You smelled delicious, probably from your soap. Miguel rubbed your back, his eyes glancing at the rim of your shirt. He wanted to see what you were hiding, but he knew that you needed to tell him.

That and he might lose his temper if there was something he did not want to see.

"Best not to think of that. Let me just enjoy this moment."

Closing his own eyes, Miguel decided to rest. He was comfortable with having you in his arms. This was a first and defiantly, not the last.

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next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @@lynxslokley

[pimosworld]

Pairing-Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary-Frankie comforts you during that time of the month.

CW-Tooth rotting fluff,mentions of sex but no smut, Frankie being the best partner anyone could ask for. Reader is not described but has a period every month, pet names, mentions of blood (of course).

WK-898

A/N- inspired by @beefrobeefcal he’s not quite chubby but he’s Frankie nonetheless. It’s so hard for me to write while I’m on my period because the cramps make me lose focus but this definitely helped in some placebo effect way. @triplefrontier-anniversary

Not beta read

At your service

Frankie rolls over to find your side of the bed uncharacteristically cool for a Saturday morning. Sleeping in and cuddling until you had to pry yourselves out of bed was one of your favorite rituals on the weekend. It’s too early and the only light illuminating the room is leaking out from the bottom of the bathroom door. 

  He can hear some sniffles and a groan and he’s throwing back the covers in a panic as he leaps out of bed. He tries the door and it’s locked causing him to panic even further. 

  “Hermosa, you okay in there?” His voice laced with concern echoing through the wall. 

  “Don’t come in Frankie…it’s a murder scene in here.” You groan to yourself again as you hear him try the door handle again. 

  He quickly realizes what predicament you’re in. He should’ve known your period was coming. You’re like clockwork each month, and instead of subjecting him to your dreaded pms you tend to shut yourself off the days leading up to it. Trying to stay busy at work or telling him to hang out with the guys so you can rage in peace. It’s still something you’re working on after all these years with him. Not understanding that he’s going to take the good with the bad and not be like your shitty ex who would make snide comments about your time of the month. 

  “Honey, I’ve seen much more blood than whatever you’ve got going on right now.”

  “I beg to differ.” You whine and he tries not to laugh, that would most certainly not make the situation any better. 

  You finally open the door and he’s met with the most pathetic site as you stand there with fresh tears in your eyes and one of his large tee shirts draped over your body. He’s only seen deeper frown lines on Santiago. 

  He pulls you into his chest as you try to wrap your arms around his larger frame, your body goes willingly limp as he rubs your head and rocks you back and forth. He’s so warm and smells like fresh laundry and you swear your hormones play evil tricks on you each month because you’ve never wanted him more than when you’re on your period. Despite his endless hours of showing you how much he appreciated your body and your mind and whatever else came with your emotions, you still weren’t comfortable having sex during these few days. 

  You had once or twice before with Frankie but he never pushed you if you weren’t feeling up to it. 

  “Vamos hermosa, let’s get you back to bed.” He kisses your forehead and waddles you to the bed, tucking you safely under the covers. “I’ll grab your heating pad and some water.” He kisses you again and you go tight lipped trying not to cry. 

  “I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as more tears spill and he pulls back from you visibly confused at your reaction. “We were supposed to go to the beach for Benny’s birthday.” 

  He tuts and pulls you back into him mumbling into your neck. “I don’t want to go to the stupid beach and get sand in my ass anyway.” Your wet laugh rumbles against him and he can breathe a small sigh of relief. 

  ****

  You can hear him in the hallway on the phone as he returns from downstairs. 

  “You owe me anyways pendejo, I covered for you last week, remember?” 

  You can hear him rest his head on the bedroom door as he huffs out. 

  “Ben, it's been way too long, you need to learn some Spanish…I gotta go, promise I’ll make it up to you soon.” 

  He opens the door with an arm full of way more than two items. He sets down the water bottle with fresh ice and dumps the rest of the contents on the bed. You giggle at the sheer amount of items but cover your mouth when he sends you a warning look. 

  He sets up your heating pad and explains everything down to a tee just like the military man that he is. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much he enjoyed taking care of you so those arguments stopped early on. 

  “I’ve got your sleep mask you left on the couch, you should get some more rest.” He hands you some pain medication and your water and you take it obediently. “I’ve also got a snack for when you wake up.” He sets the granola bar on the side table along with your phone charger, before turning off the bathroom light and rejoining you in the bed. 

  You can hear him warming up his calloused hands as he rubs them together under the covers before draping them across your belly. The only time of the month you’d allow him to rub your belly. Something he’d allow you to do to him everyday. 

  You’re perfectly content again as you resume your Saturday morning cuddles with the love of your life. 

  “Frankie?” You ask sleepily as he hums behind you. “What did you cover up for Benny last week?” 

  “Go to sleep hermosa, sweet dreams.” He kisses your neck as he pretends to start snoring and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up inside you. 

  “Fine, you keep your secrets. You’re lucky I love you.” 

 “Te amo tambíen.” 

[brayneworms]

wide eyes (cherry pies).

featuring. kobeni higashiyama/reader

word count. 1.07k

content. gender-neutral reader, kissing, intoxication, kobeni-typical crying, reader is kobeni's boss but no power dynamics, thorough consent checks, no smut but EXTREMELY suggestive, love confessions.

notes. this is an 18+ blog. minors and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked.

The hand with your key had shaken trying to unlock the door to your apartment.

It might've been the nerve, or the drink, or the fact that Kobeni had stuffed her face into the crook of your neck, breathing hard and fast, her hands pawing at the back of your suit jacket, squirming like a kitten.

Regardless, they're not shaking now.

The moment the both of you stumble through the cramped parlour and kitchenette to the bedroom, dimly lit with orange string-lights and a salt lamp petulantly aglow in the corner, Kobeni is on you with a vigour you see from her once in a blue moon and always on the field. She's slightly... damp, from sweat or rain or drool or just whatever keeps her perpetually sustained in a state of unspooling anxiety, but her strong fingers have a grip on your blazer, tugging it off like it had offended her.

"S-slow—" you manage to gasp out before she reaches up to kiss you again, fast and needy, parting her lips to lick into your mouth and you groan. "Beni," you pant between breaks for air. "Ben, Beni—"

She whines when you grip her narrow shoulders and push her down, bracketing her fast with your strength. When she peers up at you, your brain flatlines a little; her usual flouncy ponytail has unravelled, leaving two scarlet clips adrift in a wave of messy brunette hair, and it frames a face scarlet with blush from cheekbone to jawline. Her lips are red, full as candy apples, wet with spit, her dark brows knitted up, her dark eyes big and deep and starving.

She makes a needy noise, tries to lean in to kiss you again, but you manage to force her back down.

"Just—just lemme breathe a minute, babe," you pant out. Kobeni goes painfully redder and nods. "Alright. Okay. Look, we've both had a little to drink. Are you sure—"

"Yes," she blurts out, before you've even finished the question. "Th—I mean—that's the only reason I f-feel brave enough to..." Her voice wilts a little, but you can suddenly feel your pulse in your skull.

"Kobeni," you say, lowly. "I... overheard you talking with Himeno a week back. I know you... you haven't done this before. I just want to make sure you want—I mean, that you know what you want. With me, of all people."

Kobeni's eyes fill with tears. "I—I only want you," she hiccups. "I m-mean... God, this is so embarrassing, but I—ever since I got assigned to you, and working under you, I mean, oh, I'm messing this up but I j-just..."

"Breathe, dove," you murmur, and—trusting her to stop jumping you like she's springlocked—move your hands to cup her face. She burns beneath your touch, eyes pools of ink staring urgently up at you. "You're not messing anything up, 'kay? I just need to make sure here. I'm not some kinda scummy boss. I—I care about you. That's half the fuckin' problem, I mean—fuck. I don't want you to regret this. That's all. Okay?"

Kobeni sniffles. "I won't. I've always... it's all I've b-been thinking about. I—every night. And tonight, going out, I thought I was being annoying, clinging to you like I did b-but now we're here and—and I'm so close, please don't send me away." She hiccups pathetically. "I, mm. I love you. I love you."

Something presses down on your chest like a weight, compressing your heart into your ribcage. And you love her too, you love her too, so you lean forwards and kiss the tear tracks on her face whilst she huffs and squirms, craning her neck; her wet lips brush yours once, twice before she makes a whiny noise of desperation and you finally bring her in.

She's jittery, switching between being too enthusiastic and freezing up—presumably because she has no idea what to do. But at least she's moving slower now, satiated apparently by getting her feelings off her chest, and she lets you guide her this time.

"On the bed," you murmur against her lips. "If you're sure."

Kobeni nods frantically, clambering upon your mattress so eagerly that the sheets tangle around her. You bite back a giggle at the sight of her, sitting on her haunches like a dog awaiting its owners return.

"Tell me, okay?" you reiterate as you start undoing your shirt of your own admission; it slips off your shoulders, and Kobeni squeaks, eyes tracking your every moment like it's the last thing she'll ever see. Lamplight glints in the onyx of her eyes. "Kobeni. You can stop whenever. Whatever you're comfortable with. I need you to tell me what to do, how far you wanna go. Okay? You hear me?"

"Y-yes," she whimpers. "I, um..." Her hands wring together, eyes averting into her lap. "I want to... I don't know. I want... you to... t-touch me?"

"That's a start," you agree mildly. "How about we start smaller, though... you wanna take your shirt off?"

Her cheeks burn, but she nods, shaky hands moving to untuck her shirt from her slacks and start on the buttons. Pale skin slices down the middle, adorned with a worn, plain black bra. It looks like it's been through the washer two dozen times—you know Kobeni sends most of her paycheck home to her family. She must not be able to afford luxuries.

You could buy her one. Not in a weird way, like an old geezer sending lace thongs to his twenty-something secretary, obviously. Just... something that doesn't look like it's held together by two threads.

Kobeni covers the exposed skin. "Sorry," she mumbles, and you realise with a lurch you've been staring in silence. "I know I'm not—y-you're probably used to more—"

"Don't think that," you interrupt, walking over and slotting yourself between her legs. The fabric of her slacks strains against her thighs, and she stares up at you, slack-jawed, starry-eyed, alight with blush. "You're so gorgeous," you murmur. "So—the second you walked into my office, oh my god. Haven't been able to get you outta my head. Do I sound creepy? You can tell me if I do."

She shakes her head wildly. "N-no! Me too! I—like you said, the second I walked in—and you've been so kind. Nobody's ever..." Her lower lip trembles. "I really love you. Sorry. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmur, and swoop in to touch her.

[blurredcolour]

If You'll Be My Bodyguard | Part Three

If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist

Summary: Spending an intense amount of time together inevitably brings you and Austin closer together, while creating difficulties between Austin and his girlfriend.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female Bodyguard Reader

Warnings: Language, Threatening Letters, Religious Themes, Relationship Issues, Mention of Firearms, Growing Tension, Reader Has Body Issues, Unwanted Male Attention, Lowkey Threats of Violence, Male Preening, Rating – T. 

Author’s note: Please note that Ben Calder is a completely fictional character and is in no way a comment on any real human being.

Word Count: 4535

“…Just like the fangs of Cerberus gnash at the heads of Judas, Brutus, and Cassius for all eturntity eternity, the pure, white teeth of my noble dog have torn apart the corrupted flesh of your pathetic little puppy. It is only the beginning, Butler. Only the beginning of the judgements that will rain down on you, dealt by my hands, blow after blow. For you cannot expect to corrupt the natural order of heaven in the way that you have done…win all the awards that you are winning…and suffer no connsecuences consequences. You vile sinner, I will cleanse this world of your filth, no matter how long it takes, no matter who tries to get in my way…”

You sighed deeply as you lay the photocopy down on the countertop to take another bite of your neglected breakfast. Ari raised an eyebrow at you over his cup of coffee.

“Makes you really question the state of American education doesn’t it…gets all the religious names right on the first try…but not ‘consequences’…” He muttered.

You wrinkled your nose and swallowed your mouthful.

“They didn’t get the part about Biscuit right either…they were so confident that their plan would succeed, that she would be dead by the time this letter was read…” It was the terrifying level of devotion to their preposterous theory that left you struggling to form coherent thought.

“But she isn’t…she’s fine. Because of you…and you’re almost fine too.” Ari grinned at you proudly and you exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“She is fine. And my stitches are out, my rabies vaccines are done, and my physio exercises are feeling good…” You agreed, feeling calmer with each affirmation.

The past few weeks, after your return from a quiet few days in Paris supporting Austin’s girlfriend and the short weekend in Memphis, had been a relatively normal routine of screenings in town and interviews filmed virtually from Austin’s home.

“And now we get to go to New York!” He finished cheerfully.

“Are you honestly excited to drive in Manhattan?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow, finishing your meal.

“Absolutely, it’s an interesting new challenge of my skills. I drive in California all the time, but New York? This is going to be great.” He nodded.

“Well, we still have the AARP awards tonight, so don’t forget how to drive on the West Coast just yet.” You smirked and shook your head, looking up as Marwan and Trey filtered in for their turn at rest. “Have a good sleep, gents.” You smiled warmly and went to sit on the patio while Ari went to wash the car to be certain it was ready for the arrival at the awards that night.

The patio was perfect – neutral ground. It allowed the night shift to sleep in the guest house but was a place for you to spend free time without invading the privacy of the main house. Especially when Austin’s girlfriend was in town. You found a shady spot and pulled up the iPad containing Austin’s schedule and swallowed nervously to see the Academy Awards now listed on March 12. The nominations had been announced just four days earlier, and Shyla had already messaged you twice about arranging gown fittings.

Both of your replies had repeated your only criteria – sleeves and a high slit to allow you to reach your firearm in your thigh holster. There was already pushback about the sleeves. The press of a wet nose against your bare ankle made you look down with a bright grin.

“Good morning, sweet lil’ Biscuit!” You exclaimed warmly and scooped her up onto the lounge chair with you, stroking her velvety ears as you read through some work emails.

A shadow fell across your screen, forcing you to look up at the sour countenance and crossed arms of Austin’s girlfriend above you. You tossed the iPad down and carefully lifted Biscuit up, standing and setting the dog down onto the now empty lounger.

“Good morning, Miss.” You smiled politely.

She replied with a huff.

“Aus and I want to take our dog for a hike. I guess you have to come to. Be ready in ten.” She turned and strutted back into the house without even looking at the aforementioned canine once.

You made sure Biscuit was safely inside before creeping back into the guest house to put on your shoulder holster, firearm, and a jacket, before notifying Ari. The pair of you were ready in five minutes and waited for another ten for the pair to emerge, the girlfriend looking very chic in her leggings.

“Good morning, Betty, Ari! Thanks for making this happen last minute.” Austin smiled warmly, leading a charging Biscuit to the car.

“Our pleasure.” You smiled warmly, climbing into the front seat.

The drive was unusually quiet as Ari navigated towards a popular trail. You did your very best not to notice the fact that they were on their phones…looking out the window…doing anything but talking to one another. Trying not to look as relieved as you felt when you arrived, you slid out of the car and looked to Austin.

“I think I’ll walk behind you two here, keep an eye on things better that way…” You said to him quietly and he nodded easily.

“Sounds perfect, Betty.” He smiled easily and offered his hand to his girlfriend, who took it eagerly as people began to murmur and take not-so-subtle photos.

You followed at about ten paces behind, able to see people approaching them but also able to quickly intervene if necessary. It was a busier day, being a Saturday, but aside from the overt stares and photographs, the public left them alone for the most part. And Biscuit was bouncing and bounding between points of interest and fascinating smells. She truly made all the awkwardness worth it.

Lunch was on a dog-friendly patio on the way home – you sat at a table near them, Ari got takeout you brought home for him. The AARP awards felt more relaxed, lower stakes, focused on fun and also didn’t involve hours of after parties. That was a nice change of pace. The flight to New York the next day was around noon, a very reasonable time, and as soon as Ari had secured a vehicle he drove you over to an office building on 50th street.

“So if they try to kill me with hot sauce, do I get to see another full force take down?” Austin asked cheekily, checking his hair in the rear-view mirror, making you laugh and shake your head.

“Unfortunately, that falls outside the scope of my assignment, Mr. Butler. You agreed to this interview, fully knowing you’d have to eat violently hot chicken wings.” You smirked and he sighed dramatically, slumping back in his seat.

“Not even an ounce of sympathy for that which I am about to endure?”

“There’s no need to become Shakespearian about it, sir” You laughed and shook your head at him, stepping out as Ari double-parked the car at the entrance to the building and you performed your habitual scan before opening his door to lead him inside the building.

“You are a cruel, unfeeling woman, Betty.” He teased as you checked in with the security guard and headed to the elevators.

“Helps me do my job better, sir.” You replied lightly, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back your laughter at his long-suffering sigh.

A makeup artist was waiting to do final touch-ups before Austin was led into a studio with a black backdrop, a table with black tablecloth in the centre of the space. While Austin’s restraint and self-control in the face of what must have been a physically uncomfortable experience was impressive, the most memorable thing about filming the Hot Ones episodewas the way his eyes lit up when the PB&J board was presented to him. He was obviously moved, and even after the show wrapped, he insisted on making more sandwiches for anyone within range, even pulling you forward.

“Grape or raspberry?” He asked, the smooth peanut butter already spread on both halves of the waiting sandwich. He made a show of interpreting the choice you made as he carefully added the jam to your sandwich before wrapping it up for you. “For the car.” He grinned proudly and you shook your head fondly.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Butler.”

Ari was so verbally jealous that you saved him half to enjoy once he joined the pair of you in the Bowery Hotel suite after parking the car. Stepping into your faux assistant role, you confirmed Austin’s NBC interview the next morning followed by his appearance on Fallon that evening.

“Betty, I am seriously considering hiring an assistant. I don’t think I would have made it through these weeks without you…your real job aside!” He quickly clarified and your fingers busied themselves with smoothing your hair self-consciously.

You felt his praise notably increase the surface temperature of your skin and you thanked him quietly before quickly excusing yourself to go claim the nice bed as you heard Ari arrive from the parking garage.

You began to wonder if the pace of awards season was catching up to you as backstage at Jimmy Fallon blurred into backstage at Graham Norton. You were fully aware that a transatlantic flight and several days separated the two. And yet it was all starting to feel like the same place, the same conversations, in some sort of time loop.

The most notable difference between the two sets was the lack of weight between your thighs – you were unarmed in Europe with firearms laws being very different overseas. Your pocket pistol was safely secured with Ari who would deliver it into your hands when he picked you and Austin up from the Los Angeles airport in just a few short days.

Perhaps it was why you felt particularly exposed when you walked past an open dressing room door, occupied by the lanky frame of the Welsh actor Ben Calder. It certainly was not the length of your skirt, given that it brushed the tops of your knees as you walked, but nonetheless you subconsciously ran a hand down your butt just to be sure everything was covered. There was something about the look he had given you as you followed Austin and the producer towards his dressing room that set you on edge. Risking one last glance over your shoulder on the threshold of Austin’s room, you tensed as he winked in your direction and stepped quickly into the room, and directly into Austin’s broad back.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Butler!” You exclaimed and stumbled back quickly, but he grabbed your elbow before you strayed too far into the hallway.

“You’re fine, Betty. A little tired?” He smirked before finishing up his conversation with the producer.

Once you were alone, he sank onto the couch heavily and you moved to stand in an out-of-the-way corner as you waited for make-up and hair.

“Truth be told, I’m exhausted…” He sighed deeply, letting his head roll onto the back of the couch and you eyed the door protectively, wanting him to indulge in any possible moment of rest, no matter how miniscule. “Siddown, yer makin’ me nervous” He delivered a closed-eyed Humphrey Bogart impersonation and you tensed, quickly sitting on the opposite end of the couch, eyes falling onto the television screen showing the waiting, empty set.

You felt Austin sigh deeply beside you before his breathing evened out gently into a light sleep. You silently prayed they took their time with the other guests and were pleased that he got a solid fifteen minutes before there was a knock on the door. There was a flurry of activity in the room as he was prepped and mic’d up. You followed quietly as he was led to set, the stagehands finding you a space in the wings to keep an eye on him for the duration of the show.

It was difficult not to be utterly taken with Michelle Yeoh, someone you had emulated more than once on the playground as a child. But when you focused on your real job, you noticed an odd friction between Ben and Austin…with Ben coldly refusing a hug from Austin at one point. It was a subtle, but sharp shake of the head and not many people noticed but you? You noticed.  

As you stood waiting in the hall outside Austin’s dressing room, exchanging texts with your cousin Maddie about the existence of a white sheer shirt, you tensed as a slightly acrid and wholly unfamiliar cologne flooded your senses and quickly looked up to see Ben Calder approaching.

“So, does your boss keep you on a terribly short leash?” He asked, planting a hand on the wall beside your head and leaning in, most likely trying to impress you with the length of his body.

“I am not sure exactly what you’re asking, Mr. Calder, but I don’t have a lot of free time, it’s a short trip.” You answered carefully, tensing as you heard the door open beside you.

“She’s not interested Calder,” Austin spoke politely but firmly, “and I thought you had a girlfriend anyway?” He added a little less politely.

“I should take you out back and give you a real Welsh welcome.” Ben sneered, straightening to his full height.

“Almost wish you would…” Austin grinned darkly.

“What,” Ben scoffed and shifted closer to him, “so you can show off to your pretty assistant?” He somehow complimented and insulted you at the same time and you heard Austin’s sharp inhale.

“Al…” You warned lowly, stepping closer as the tension began to thicken in the air between them.

“So she can serve you with a hard take down.” He grinned with dark glee, and you grabbed his arm firmly before he could do anything make that necessary.

“Terribly sorry, Mr. Calder, early flight tomorrow.” You called down the hall after you as you half led, half carried Austin toward the waiting vehicle, your arm now wrapped around his waist to allow you to lift a great deal of his weight off the ground and take control of the situation.

“Awww c’mon Betty, I really wanted to watch you smash his face into the floor…” Austin pouted as you loaded him into the car with a locally sourced driver and hired muscle.

“We’re running a clean protection campaign here, Mr. Butler, not slamming Euro-pricks into the ground just because they’re leering, smart-mouthed trash.” You muttered a little too honestly as you settled into the seat beside him.

“Oh, now I’m going to go kick his ass.” Austin growled and reached for the door handle before you threw yourself across his lap to quickly lock the door.

“Drive please!” You said to the driver who pulled out. “You good?” You looked up to Austin who nodded, a little stunned.

Retreating to your side of the backseat, you straightened your jacket a little and sighed.

“I appreciate your chivalric intentions, but that limey bastard isn’t worth the effort…He’s just here to appease the domestic audience. Why are you here, Austin?” You tilted your head.

“Because I’m nominated for stuff…” He muttered.

“You’re nominated for a BAFTA…a SAG award…an Academy Award…you’re here to prove that hard work is enough. So don’t let that wee shite ruin it ok?” You looked to him seriously and relaxed as his lips twitched into a grin.

“We should spend more time in London, Betty…limey bastard…wee shite…the vernacular suits you…” He chuckled.

“Well, we’ll be back in a few weeks for your BAFTA” You smirked playfully, forgetting altogether that the point of the criminal investigation back in the United States was to hopefully have your presence become unnecessary as quickly as possible.

You were grateful for a few quiet days on your return to Los Angeles, spent sleeping in the guest house when the night shift was on, or on the patio preparing for the next few days. Come Monday, the marathon would begin. If January and the beginning of February had felt busy, it was only going to get worse…more awards shows and film festivals, a flight to London, then onto New York, and back to LA, with in person and virtual interviews slotted into every available moment in between. March thirteenth was just over five weeks away but with the way the calendar was booked solid, it may as well have been five months.

The hotel suite was Kate’s idea, and one that you all agreed was safest. Everything was booked under a fake name and not linked to Austin whatsoever. It prevented the crews from Variety and People from invading his home. And from allowing the entry of any unwelcome, uninvited guests as well. You were still feeling somewhat ragged from the time change, so when the People photographer had Austin take off his dress shirt…revealing his biceps and triceps to your wide eyes…you felt the blood drain from your fingertips and rush to other destinations. The resulting decrease in sensation in your hands had your phone tumbling to the floor with a disruptive thunk and after quickly diving for you it, your eyes met with Austin’s concerned blue gaze as you straightened.

‘Sorry’ you mouthed, mortified to have to distracted him from his work…to have been caught gawking at his physical attributes…

While you were still exhausted on your return to the guest house that night, you had recovered just enough to be disgusted by the state of the place. It was difficult to say the last time the sheets had been washed and there was a notable film on the bathroom sink. Overwhelmed with the horror of sharing such a small space with three other adults with a different standard of cleanliness, you grabbed a blanket from the bed and retreated to the sanctity of a patio lounger.

Sure, the streetlights and ambient sound made it a bit more difficult to sleep, but as you nuzzled into the blanket with a sigh, at least you couldn’t feel the dirt on the sheets. You felt your body relax and your breathing deepen. The silken feel of the twilight between sleeping and waking rolled over you…you were so close…

A large hand suddenly grabbed your shoulder, and the bitter tang of adrenaline flooded your mouth as you let out a fearsome shriek, lunging to your feet. Eyes barely focused, you grabbed onto the hip and shoulder of the intrusive human and tossed them to your left, a splash echoing as their body landed into the faintly steaming pool. Rubbing at your eyes, you shook off the last vestiges of near sleep as a very wet, blonde man surfaced, coughing up involuntarily ingested pool water.

“Austin!” You shrieked again and dove in quickly, arms wrapping around his torso from behind as you pulled him to the shallow end where his feet could touch ground before quickly turning him in your arms to check him over…to see if you’d done any damage.

Trey and Marwan were immediately at the poolside after your succession of shrieks, but when Austin started giggling, they disappeared with a nod in your direction.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” You groaned and covered your face. “Oh, I am so, so sorry I…” You trailed off as he only started laughing harder.

“Full force take down straight into the pool!” He exclaimed with glee.

You peered at him through your fingers and watched as his long fingers raked through his wet hair, slicking it back. His white tank top was practically see-through and water beaded along his tanned skin. He was disgustingly beautiful as he laughed at your mortification and you weren’t sure if you wanted to punch him, splash him or…kiss him…

You shook your head violently and cleared your throat almost painfully.

“I am extremely sorry; I completely understand if you want to speak to Scott about a replacement I…”

“Betty, Betty, Betty…we’re just enjoying a late-night swim…” He teased and splashed you.

You stared at him absolutely flabbergasted, so he did it again.

“I know you can do better than that, come on…” He goaded and you huffed.

“Oh, that’s it…” You growled and went all in, the peace of the night quickly devolving into a vicious splash fight until you both ran out of energy.

It did not take long, given how tired you both were, and he lay back into the water, floating quietly.

“I do not spend near enough time in this pool…thank you, Betty…”

You shook your head, brushing your hair back from your face and hugging your arms around your body as you realized how water-logged your pajamas had become.

“Really I am sorry, can you please accept my apology?” You lay your hands across your biceps, wishing they didn’t bulge quite so much when you crossed your arms.

He turned to his head to look at you and you looked to the side, wishing you could disappear under his gaze – the overly muscled girl who would never be more than pretty in his world. You heard the water slosh and sluice off his skin as he stood and then suddenly, he was hugging you. Enveloping you in warm, sun-kissed skin.

“Forgiven. Why were you sleeping outside anyway? That’s what I was going to ask.” He said as he stepped back, tilting his head, but his hands rested on your overly broad, in your opinion, shoulders.

You sighed as it would sound terribly picky out loud but…

“The guesthouse really needs a deep clean and I just couldn’t face it tonight…I’m not complaining, or demanding you do anything about it.” You amended quickly, looking at him firmly, making him nod.

“I do know somewhere better you can sleep…It’s not the guest room upstairs either before you fight me on that, though the house is empty right now…there’s a photo shoot in…Milan? No wait…Florence. Anyway…I have a clean, quiet place you can sleep on the first floor without inconveniencing anyone.”

You eyed him skeptically, having been on a security tour of his entire house, but he was smiling at you hopefully and you were so desperate for a good night’s sleep that you acquiesced with a slow nod.

“Fine…Just for tonight…I’ll clean everything before the screening tomorrow and fix the guesthouse…I guess that’s today now but anyway…deal.” You nodded and he grinned broadly before his eyes fell onto the scar on your forearm.

You watched as his fingers reached out to carefully trace over the bite mark as a frowned darkened his features.

“It’s still new…it’ll fade…” You murmured reassuringly as his touch raised goosebumps across your damp flesh.

“Yeah, I guess…oh shit you must be cold, c’mon.” His fingers wrapped around yours, peeling them from your bicep and pulling you after him toward the stairs. He led you over to a small shed where he produced two fluffy bath sheets.

As you were trying to un-cling your wet clothes with your free hand, he wrapped you up in warm cotton before enrobing himself in the same.

“You get some fresh pajamas and meet me inside?” He tilted his head and you nodded, hugging the towel tight as you hurried back to the guest house to dry off and change into new pajamas, with more coverage, in the washroom.

When you entered the house, Austin was waiting for you with a wiggling and yawning Biscuit, in the living room as promised. He led you down the hall into his office which somehow had a bed in the middle of it. You blinked slowly in the dim light before it clicked.

“Murphy bed!” You gasped just as he said the same phrase in explanation.

He chuckled and nodded.

“Good night.”

“But it’s your office, I couldn’t…

“I’m sleeping Betty, not using it…Good night…” Biscuit jumped onto the low bed and he sighed before tucking her under one arm and heading upstairs with her, leaving you along in his office-turned-into-your-bedroom.

You sank down onto the edge of the bed, looking around slowly. The glint of the framed medallion from the back of one of his jumpsuits from the Elvis film caught your eye and made you swallow tightly. But the sheets were soft and clean beneath your fingertips, and your eyelids were so heavy. You set your alarm for a little earlier than usual and surrendered. Just for tonight.

You woke the next morning to the sound of snuffling and scratching at the door, crescendoing to an insistent awoooo followed by a sharp but hushed,

“Biscuit!”

You couldn’t help the snicker that fell from your lips, which only made her whine and tap her paws impatiently. Your alarm started to chime behind you, and you reached back to turn it off as Austin knocked on the door.

“Someone would like to say good morning.”

“I’m up, absolutely” You smiled and then there was a skittering of nails across the hardwood before Biscuit launched onto into bed and onto your chest, licking at your face exuberantly.

“Morning.” Austin chuckled and you did your best to answer without opening your mouth lest you catch some stray tongue. “I’m going to order breakfast, what do you want?”

He plunked down onto the edge of the bed and lassoed the wriggling dog with an arm to allow you to pick some food, albeit hesitantly. But he insisted. After eating, you forced your roommates to partake in a deep clean of the guesthouse before they were permitted to sleep, promising to stay up later to make up for the delay in their rest. After the screening that night, Austin asked if you would consider staying in his office again. He framed it as hating the house empty, and threw in an argument that it was more secure from a safety standpoint anyway, wasn’t it?

Ari was thrilled to get the real bed to sleep in, instead of the sofa bed. Austin’s girlfriend was much less in favour of the idea. Upon her return, the tension between them seemed even more pronounced. Nonetheless she had you and Ari prepare for another public hike the next day. There was sniping back and forth the entire time they were getting ready, and you quickly found an excuse to wait outside. Cold silence reigned in the car, but once again she took his arm as soon as you arrived at the trail head.

But it was not long before the sniping began again on the trail. Staying ten paces behind did not keep you out of ear shot as things escalated into a full-blown argument. The hike ground to a halt. Biscuit plunked down in the dirt, despondently staring back at you.

“And now she’s sleeping in our house?!” The wind carried her latest salvo back towards you and you looked to Biscuit apologetically as you realized that you were the cause of this fight.

“Sorry Biscuit…” You whispered softly, standing off to the side of the trail as other hikers filed past, whispered and snapping photos as the fought on, oblivious.

There were some things, you realized, that you just would never be able to protect him from. Including yourself.

Read Part Four

If You'll Be My Bodyguard, I Can Be Your Long Lost Pal Masterlist

Tag List: @littlewhiterose, @emrysdreams, @slowsweetlove, @ xstrengthxinxtragedyx, @shelbygeek, @kingdomforapony, @artlover8992, @austinsvlrslut, @eliseinmemphis

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Regrets

Chapter 6

Next chapter

Warnings/index

Six months.

It had been half a year since he left.

Half a year of nothing.

Not a text or call to let you know he was alright, not a single lead to where the blond could be hiding. Had you managed to get a message, there was a possibility of tracking it, but sadly there was nothing to connect.

Despite his apparent wishes, you made it a priority to find him once more and attempt to convince him that you weren't as pathetic as he thought. Or maybe you just missed your friend, no matter how much his decisions aggravated you. To be fair, you weren't the strongest fighter and the possibility of death was always apparent, but you were also a grown adult who had managed to stay alive against the odds for a while now.

After the first two weeks you had managed to discover where a pair of scarlet eyes were residing. However, by the time you actually got there, they were gone, already stolen by the person you had come there to find.

A similar game of cat and mouse occurred every once in a while, but Kurapika beat you to the punch every time.

He always did.

It had turned into an obsession. Once you had let him back into your life, you refused to lose him again, at least without a chance to explain yourself. Not to mention the fact that whether or not he was actually okay was unknown was driving you insane.

The search had taken priority over sleep and rehabilitation. Sometimes there were days were you forgot to eat. Of course, you would make up for it by eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's the next morning.

Or afternoon.

Your circadian rhythm had also taken a toll, sleepless nights bleeding into late mornings. At some point, you had lost motivation completely, and slept over half the day away for weeks, hoping for time to just pass. Life itself felt disheartening, so the soft call of darkness pulled you a bit too hard most days and you somehow managed to spend most of your time dreaming rather than awake.

As of right now, Kurapika was your only incentive to get out of bed and even you knew how unhealthy it was. Some days you started to question why you were still looking. It wasn't as if he wanted you to. But you kept going, determined to at least say goodbye and know he was safe. If nothing else, that was all you wanted, even if he still desired to be left alone.

It did hurt, knowing your best friend didn't really want you anymore. Or maybe he did and just couldn't handle having you nearby. Either way, you felt like a heavy load weighing your friend down, which was one of your worst fears; being a burden for your loved ones hurt deeply.

Leorio and the boys, who were playing some sort of video game the last time you conversed, had actually called a few times, the former more than the latter. The aspiring doctor would always check up on you, making sure you were getting enough sleep or asking about Kurapika.

But you always had the same answer.

'Nothing new, I'm sorry.'

That was until today.

Everything seemed normal. A similarly pointless day with a similar level of progress finding Kurapika, coming home to a place much like the hotels you usually stayed in, which weren't over the top, but still nice in quality.

You had a hunters license dammit and you refused to stay in someplace shitty if you could crash almost anywhere for free.

Anyway, it all seemed normal when you inserted the key card and walked through the door, being careful to lock it before letting out a breath of exhaustion.

Tucking a piece of stray hair behind your ear, you tossed the small backpack of necessities you carried around in the kitchen and made your way over to the dark bedroom, hoping for a hot shower to soothe your sore muscles. You walked into the master and towards the bathroom, so focused on the idea of a bath that you failed to notice the man sitting on your bed.

Shedding the jacket off your arms and attempting to fold it into some sort of ball, you turned around to throw it and let out a screech.

Shaking hands fumbled for the bedroom light, finally flipping the switch and illuminating the unknown guest. Once you recognized them, your heart calmed for a moment, only to pick up again a few seconds later.

"Hisoka?"

The magician had his legs crossed and was sitting on the side of your temporary bed, picking through a pile of cards. However, his gaze never seemed to stray from yours as he shuffled them, a freakish smile bleeding across his features. "It took you quite a while to notice me. I must say, I'm a little disappointed."

You rolled your eyes, but your breathing finally slowed. "I'm tired. What do you want?"

This guy doesn't want me dead or I would be already. He's just annoying.

Hisoka tossed his playing cards to the side, feigning a gasp of hurt. "How rude! To think I came all this way to see you and I don't even get a welcome."

"I didn't invite you here. Now what do you want?"

The man in front of you just gave a low chuckle and stood up. "I'm here to collect you."

You blinked in surprise as he started to make his way in your direction.

"You... what?"

"I've been sent by the Troupe to come and get you." He responded, laying a pale on your shoulder.

However, you didn't even notice. Just the memories of what went down six months ago made you shudder and the thoughts of why they wanted you made it even worse.

"I thought you weren't part of the Troupe anymore."

Hisoka sighed, pulling another card from his colorful sleeve. "I've been commissioned as an... outside source."

"They really came to you for help?"

"I volunteered." He replied.

"What?" You asked, confused.

"Well, they agreed that since I've technically known you the longest you might be more cooperative." Hisoka's grip seemed to grow a bit stronger, the cruelty of his grin following suit. "They also believe you don't despise me as much since I wasn't part of their little club when they slaughtered your family."

Your eyes narrowed and you roughly shrugged his hand off your sleeve before turning to pick up the jacket from the floor. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Sorry, dear, but if you're going to be so impolite, I'll just have to take you my force. Of course, I don't mind very much either way."

"What do they even want with me? If they wish me dead, hurry it up."

"Don't worry. They just want to talk."

But you just turned around and cocked an eyebrow. "About?"

"Your little friend."

You tensed for a moment, but you knew it was coming. "If they want me as bait or something, it won't work. Kurapika and I haven't spoken for-"

"Oh, we won't need that. He's dead."

This time your body just stopped completely. Your heart started to pound out of your chest, echoing out through your ears. Finally, you got up enough energy to stand back up and turn around.

"What... what did you say?"

"Unfortunately, Kurapika was no help to us, so he was killed." Hisoka replied, completely unconcerned. "Of course, maybe you know something, so I was sent to get you."

The hands holding your jacket started to tremble again, your surroundings starting to get faded as well. You blinked the feeling away and shook your head. "That's a lie."

"Check me then." The magician sashayed forward. "I assume you're able to tell the difference with those powers of yours."

You felt a strong essence push through you as the magician released his Zetsu, allowing you to feel whatever emotion he was emitting much better. It didn't matter who the person was or how strong their acting skills were; the chemical bodily reaction to telling a lie was always the same, along with the minuscule traces of anticipation only you would pick you on. He was almost as hard to read as the rest of his Troupe members, or ex-members, but there was something you were able to grasp onto. And although it wasn't much, the answer calmed you, even if you had already suspected it.

"You're an asshole."

"Eh, I thought you'd be more compliant if you were blubbering on the ground. Worth a shot." Hisoka shrugged to himself and then held up a hand to you. "Are you ready? I'd just hate to be late."

"I said I'm not going anywhere with you." You slapped the hand down and backed up. "If you wanna fight me, then I'll deal with it."

Or I'll find some distraction and run far away from here.

Hisoka frowned, twiddling the playing card in between his fingers. Finally, he tossed it away and zoomed forward, clamping his hand, which seemed to be holding a rag, around your mouth with record speed. Some sort of chemical started to burn at your nostrils as you tried to hold your breath while simultaneously struggling out of his grasp. But his grip just got stronger, the cloth almost being forced into your throat.

"Such an unexciting way to knock someone out." As Hisoka continued speaking, your head started to get light from the lack of air. Finally, you caved, the cloth folding inward as you took that long awaited breath. "But I don't want to fight you yet."

And that was the last thing you heard before the world went black.

XxXxX

The first thing you noticed was the ache that lay dormant in your hands, only to flare up through your wrists when you tried moving them. You were clearly tied up, maybe with the same stuff Machi worked with. Another movement-induced tightening on your part proved that theory.

Next, you opened your eyes a sliver, hoping not to alert anyone of your awareness, but just enough to get a look at your surroundings.

Unfortunately, you were also in close proximity to a bunch of nen-wielding psychopaths.

"Oh, look. She's awake!"

Immediately, you recognized the cheery tone of Shalnark, meaning that the rest of the troupe was probably here as well.

Damn.

Well, it doesn't matter now anyway.

You pried your heavy eyes open, still a bit weary from whatever drug Hisoka had forced onto you, and looked around. It was a dark, cave-like room with high craters and jagged stone. Other than a few candles and lighting pieces, there wasn't much in terms of furniture. However, what you were most enamored by was the individual sitting on top of one of the highest rocks, allowing him to spectate whatever would happen to you.

"How the hell..."

Chrollo tilted his head slightly, but he wasn't the one that responded.

"Watch your mouth, girl!"

Pain shot through your neck as you twisted it to look at who had shouted at you, clearly still sore. You were met with Nobunaga, who you could quite honestly say was one of your least favorite people at the moment.

"I wasn't talking to you."

A strong hand grabbed hold of your collar, yanking you from the damp floor and forcing you to stare directly into a pair of angered eyes.

"I don't care. What matters is that you should know not to speak unless spoken to." His grip tightened and you noticed the small tears brimming from the corners of his eyes. He may have noticed your recognition as well and released your shirt, making you fall back down onto the grimy floor. "You're little friend killed Uvo and you start yapping like we won't shred you to pieces right here? That son of a bitch should be six feet under by now with what he did."

Is he fucking crying?

Annoyance spurred inside your chest like a firecracker.

"Are you serious?" You scoffed, the sound echoing off the cavernous walls as the man swiveled around to look at you. "What kind of self-righteous shit cries because of something like this when he causes the same reaction?"

After letting that register you continued.

"Countless people have died at your hands and you expect me to give you sympathy for something I wasn't even directly involved in? And here you are, crying about it?" You shook your head in a mock fashion. "But I am oh so sorry for your dear Uvo."

At this point, he was simmering in rage. You could practically feel the heat falling off his skin. This not only gave you the self-satisfactory incentive to continue, but also the smallest inspirations of some sort of plan.

"You, Nobunaga, are a hypocrite."

Snap

The common term regarding the breaking point of anger, 'snapped' actually holds quite a bit of accuracy, a gentle nod to what actually happens when an individual starts to go off the deep end.

For example, 'he snapped.'

And oh boy, he did.

Nobunaga was obviously angry, anyone could tell, of course you to a greater extent than others. Waves of resentment and fury started to bounce the moment you began to speak, almost like the ones an audiologist studies when looking at sounds. It felt almost cruel to torment a man in such a way, even if every word you said was true. You knew first hand what it felt like to lose a friend, and if someone even began to suggest that your qualities might've been the reason, you would've lost it.

But that was what you were counting on.

"Not to mention he probably had his fair share at the slaughter of my people too. Maybe that callous arrogance surrounding bloodshed is the reason he isn't here with you today. I bet it's probably why you can't accept how sanctimonious you actually are either, huh?"

As previously stated, Nobunaga's emotions were already starting to spike, the amplitude growing higher and higher as you continued. However, after that particular comment, the imaginary string acting as the longitudinal waves found in sound or brain studies simply grew too tall.

"Oh no, you're not just a hypocrite either, Nobunaga. You're a fucking coward."

And that's where it happened; the snap.

It was quite a rare sight, seeing the string just break from overexertion. Most people would never even let themselves get close.

The speed at which his hand flew back was impressive and the strength at which he hit the side of your face even more so. If you hadn't been tied tightly to the column, you probably would have been thrown to the floor from the sheer force. He was obviously holding back, the man would've torn your head off if he didn't, but the hit was brimming with hot, steaming anger.

You could work with that.

The hit echoed through the cavern, leaving everybody silent in its wake. Blood had started to drip down your nose from the impact, leaving a salty taste on your lips. Despite this, you began to laugh. Red fluids dripped down your chin and onto your shirt as you let the giggles drift off, leaving the man to look at you in pure shock and resentment.

You spat some of it from between your teeth and looked up at him, a small smile still visible between all the red.

"Damn, hitting a helpless, little girl like me? And while she's all tied up?! That's pretty pathetic don't you think?" You clicked your tongue. "Really just reinforcing that coward thing, but, ya know..."

"Alright fine," he turned back towards you and began to stomp in your direction, before untying your bindings and allowing them to rip through the first layer of your skin as he pulled them away. You resisted the urge to let out a hiss of pain as he pulled you to your feet. "We'll see who's a fucking coward. Boss!"

You heard him call to the boss and then the latter respond, but you were honestly too focused on keeping yourself standing, which was quite a feat considering how fast the room was spinning.

What on earth did Hisoka put in that damned cloth?

"She's taunting you. She wants you to fight her and it's working."

"Well obviously!" Nobunaga watched as his leader raised an eyebrow at his tone. "Apologies, boss. But please, she might as well be the one who killed Uvo. Just let me show her her place and then maybe she'll be more cooperative."

The boss' considerate expression loomed from Nobunaga to you, who had finally managed to find your footing and get the world to stop moving so quickly.

You wanted this, but why?

He had an idea, but was eager to see it in action.

Therefore, he gave a nod to Nobunaga, who pulled you to the middle of the room and waved everybody out of the way. He crack his knuckles and positioned himself in a fighting stance.

"Nobody is allowed to intervene." His angry expression turned into a sneer. "Unless the little lady starts begging for mercy."

And at that, he began running toward you, his boots slapping against the wet floor at the speed of a moving vehicle.

Nobunaga clearly wanted to beat your ass.

Thankfully, you wanted the same thing.

He made the first move, a swift kick to the face. Surprisingly, you were able to dodge, most likely since anger was overbearing his technique. His speed was also suffering, giving you a second to make your move.

Taking a deep breath, you allowed your muscles to relax, then let out a soft hum. From his offensive position, your opponent hadn't been able to use his abilities to protect himself. The quiet note was apparent enough for only him to hear and when he did, you could tell from the soft slump of his own limbs.

Nobunaga was your bitch.

He was in a drugged state of calm, heavy enough to keep him under your influence and take orders, but at the expense of your energy. He was clearly repressing it and you were losing due to his insane power levels.

You only had a few seconds.

Creeping forward, you ignored the edged positions of the other troupe members, each one ready to step in and put you out of commission if needed. The soft gaze of their captain, cool and calculating, was also disregarded.

Once you reached him, you crept toward his ear and began to whisper.

"Listen closely, I doubt you'll give me an opening again. You can't move now, but I'll let you go and you won't feel so sleepy in a second. When I do, you're doing to be very, very angry. I worked with the reason Ovugin is dead and you want revenge, yeah? You're going to break my neck, quickly please. After that, you're going to turn around and tell your boss to fuck himself."

You stepped back, still humming softly for only him to hear, and allowing the words to ruminate. You hoped your nen would continue long enough after your untimely demise for the last bit.

The sound stopped.

"Now go."

He began moving at you once more, except this time, his moves were even more lazy, fueled by the anger you were moving in his direction like a deadly perfume. He was in for the kill, all rational thought flown out the window right now. Taking a deep breath, you allowed yourself a final moment to pray and apologize.

I'm sorry, Kurapika. I hope this is enough to keep you safe.

Maybe you were a hypocrite too. Killing yourself may have been a cowardly move, but you would've done it a dozen times if it meant the safety of your best friend. You closed your eyes, waiting for the sharp pain of whatever the snapping of your neck would feel like.

But it never came.

When you opened them again, you saw how close deaths pale grasp had come. Nobunaga's fingers were just centimeter away from your throat, nails almost grazing your skin. He was panting, but his eyes were trained on you, although not with very much anger this time, but astonishment instead.

He broke free.

This had never happened, not ever. Maybe it could've been because of the insane abilities that the Phantom Troupe must have possessed, but it still left you speechless. You had put boundless amounts of power to keep him in control and he had been lost to a blinding blanket of rage up until now.

Was he really that powerful to break out even in the midst of that?

No, that would be impossible.

"You okay there, Nobunaga?"

"M'fine, Shal." The man in front of you let his hand drop. He was still breathing heavily, but his usual stance of power and technique had been regained while he turned away, leaving you in a confused daze. "Thanks, boss."

Oh.

As you followed Nobunaga's line of sight, you realized that you were right.

It was impossible.

Their leader was still sitting on top of his rocky chair, but now his posture was tense, his steely eyes glowing and wide. In his left hand, a book was held and his right was balanced on his knee, pointed in your direction. The usually-styled hair was now flowing past him in some sort of unseen breeze. It fell back down into his face when he snapped the book shut, finishing whatever ability had been stopping yours.

He looked absolutely, menacingly beautiful.

You didn't even notice when your knees buckled, but you weren't really surprised when you felt them knock against stone. It took a lot of energy to control a Phantom Troupe member and your body felt like putty. Even with the element of surprise, you could only manipulate Nobunaga for a couple of seconds and their boss had halted your spell without any work.

I don't wanna say I underestimated these power-hungry bitches, but damn.

They were really fucking good.

However, you did remember feel a tinge of pride at your work before you allowed the rest of your body to follow. The adrenaline from before had been sucked from your limbs and you just needed a second to breath.

After that second, you looked up, meeting the eyes of the man who has signed your family's death warrant. The rest of the Troupe, save for Nobunaga, were still on guard, waiting for some sort of attack, but he ignored them and knelt down on a single knee. He took a second to merely look over you. As his eyes scanned your body, you felt a shiver go down your spine, but had so little energy to suppress it.

Fuck.

He's still pretty up close.

"My name is Chrollo Lucilfer. Yours is Y/n, correct?"

Chrollo Lucilfer.

Seems pretty fitting honestly.

When you took a second to look away from his face, you noticed the hand still reaching out in your direction. His fingers were long and slender, just as pale as the rest of his complexion. It took you a second to realize what he said.

"How do you know my name?"

Damn, it's hard to sound intimidating when you're so out of breath. Well, a girl can try.

Nonetheless, Chrollo smiled gently at your response as you maneuvered your wooden-feeling limbs into a more formal sitting position. "I think that's the first time you've spoken to me. Let's keep that going, shall we? Now tell me, why did you just have one of my men try to break your spine?"

"Snap my neck, but potatoes potahtos and all that stuff." You shrugged. "I think you know why."

He nodded. "Killing yourself to save a friend is a noble act. I think everyone in this room could agree. That's how a Spider behaves, at least I would hope they would. However, I find you very interesting. It'd be a pity to have you die so soon. At least, not before I know more about you."

"You don't know shit about me." You spat.

You turned away for just a moment in an attempt to stand and regain some of your dignity. In a flash, Chrollo had grabbed your neck and moved your face back in his direction. You didn't fail to notice the tiny upward twitch on his lips at the noise of surprise you let out. You were thankful for the thin turtle neck you had decided to wear today since it was up in the air if you had enough energy to spend on gyo right now.

"Now that's unfair." He retorted. "I know how scared you are right now, and I know why your little friend killed mine."

"Let me go."

He tilted his head just a bit to get a better look at you. "No. I'm not done."

"Get on with it then." This earned you a low chuckle, but his serious expression didn't match.

"I know that that was just an act. You hide behind witty remarks and sarcasm to pretend you aren't so scared all the time. I know that you're nen is quite remarkable, but you feel like you're physically holding your allies back. You feel like a burden. That's why you offered to help your friend exterminate us, right? But in reality, you don't want to actually kill anyone."

He was right, but you wouldn't let him know that.

"You wouldn't hurt a fly."

"But I'd squash a spider underneath my boot if I had the chance."

His lips twisted upwards into a small smile, an almost polite way of calling out your bullshit. "Is that true? Regardless, I also know that you're going to comply with me."

"And why on earth would that be?"

"Because," he said. "it would mean you, and your friend, get to live. That's why you're going to do whatever I ask of you."

The offer surprised you, but skepticism overcame it. "And what, may I ask, would that even be?"

"For starters, I'd like you to take them out."

"What?"

"I want to see them."

Oh.

"Like. hell."

He clicked his tongue. "I'm sure at this point I've scared you enough to activate them. I want to see."

Your mouth broke into a snarl. "You're a piece of shit."

"Maybe." He said. "But you're still at my mercy, so I'd suggest being less vulgar."

You wanted to respond with some sort of sarcastic comment, but honestly, he was right. The nen you possessed was strong, but compared to his? You were only alive right now because he wanted you to be.

If you weren't cooperative, would that change?

Although, you hated to admit it, he was right about you being scared too. Yes, you were willing to die minutes ago, but did you really want that? Especially, when there was a possibility Kurapika would be safe. Was your pride in your family's secret worth that possibility?

"Uh, do you have... like a case or something I can put my contacts in?"

"You won't need them anymore."

Okay... That can mean a couple things.

"What do you-"

"I mean just what I said. If anyone is foolish enough to try anything while you're working under me, then we'll take care of it." He replied.

At this point, you were too wiped out to think about how odd that was, the fact that he offered protection to you from anyone who might want to steal what was yours. The nauseous feeling of survivor's guilt has begun to slither into your abdomen like a worm. You did your best to ignore it and focus on the given task.

With a shaky breath, you wiped your palms on your leggings and raised a hand to your left eye. Maybe it was the performance anxiety of people watching you or the fact that it just felt wrong, but your trembling fingers didn't help very much. After a few tries, you finally got the first contact out.

The second one was a bit easier.

The contacts fell to the ground, forgotten and dirty on the stone floor.

You almost forgot how nice it felt without them. When the small piece of tinted plastic was removed, the irritating itch flowed into that familiar warmth that you remembered from before you were forced to hide.

Then you looked up.

Bright vermilion eyes met his cold grey ones. A bead of sweat trailed down your face as you could feel sleep beckoning you with its calming melody. You didn't even tense up all that much when he reached out a hand to push away a wet strand of hair from your forehead. His palm then trailed down your cheek to push your face in his direction slightly.

He really is pretty.

Oh, yeah. He's touching me.

You quickly activated gyo, hoping that he hadn't sensed anything. You weren't sure you had enough energy to not feel indifferent anyway.

Eyes blurred back into their original color as they fluttered shut, you allowed yourself to fall unconscious, using the last amount of energy on the invisible barrier that protected others from your inner feelings.

The last thing you remember thinking was how gentle his hands felt.

[shanleenkinnjaskey]

Good Enough (Ways To Be Wicked Part 1/?)

Little Mix

Am I still not good enough?

Am I still not worth that much?

I'm sorry for the way my life turned out

Sorry for the smile I'm wearing now

Guess I'm still not good enough

Everything's been boiling for months.

It started with the coronation, with Auradon’s reaction after Carlos showed up in pictures after the very public defeat of Maleficent with Ben's ring on his finger. Gossip sites featured headlines like cruella’s child corrupting the prince and de vil’s the devil. Carlos had ignored them at first, bolstered by the support of his best friends, his new friends (Doug and Jane, who had been incredibly kind to a strange kid from the beginning), and, of course, the boy he loves. Ben had been the bright spot in a sea of dirty stares, the constant in a world of cruelty.

He’d been fine for a few weeks- settling into dating Ben, being free from the weight of his mother’s wishes, and having dinner with the Queen and King twice a week. Tuesdays involved all the Lost kids, and those were often insane fun, but Saturday nights were just him, Ben, and Ben’s parents. The first one had been insanely nerve wracking, with Carlos half expecting the King to get mad at some mistake and beast out at any moment as well as the fact that Ben’s parents are the King and Queen as well as the fact that these are Ben’s parents, and he’s never had to try to impress anyone’s parents before. Even after a few weeks of such dinners he’s still somewhat on the edge of his seat, half-expecting them to insult and punish him over some perceived slight. Months away from home haven’t relieved him of a lifetime of Cruella’s cruelty, and no matter how kind Ben’s parents are he’s still never completely at ease.

(Still, he’s adjusting.)

The problem had truly begun when he'd gotten a video message from his mother a few weeks after the Coronation. He remembers her shocked expression at the news, her sneered comment about never expecting the brat to make it anywhere, 'specially not near the throne. He was cast back to the years on the Isle when the only friends he'd had were Jay, Mal, and Evie. He remembers the fact that the only one of them to be truly loved by a parent had been Evie (though the Evil Queen had definitely had her own ways of showing it). Jafar and Maleficent, though never loving, had been fond of Jay and Mal, treating them like apprentices rather than children but still treating them with some sense of caring.

Cruella de Vil, however, had treated her son like a slave, a creature that existed to serve her every whim. Carlos's earliest memories are scuttling about the Isle, fulfilling her every whim as she barked insults at him. If it hadn't been for him bumping into Mal, the head of a small gang of kids (Jay, Evie, and Uma until she'd broken off to follow in her mother’s footsteps and started terrorizing sailors), he'd probably (definitely) still be in that position today.

Over the past few weeks Cruella’s words have been waiting in the back of Carlos’s mind, combining with the words of the media and the whispered gossip in halls to create a poison in Carlos's head. Even kissing Ben, cuddling with him in bed, going swimming with him, hadn't helped. Normally he'd be nothing but happy when spending time with his boyfriend, but right now all he can focus on is the words pounding through his head.

You're pathetic.

Scrawny. Weak. Young. Villain.

Not as talented as the others.

Worthless.

The final straw had been at today's Visiting Day. He'd been alternating between Ben's side and hanging with his friends, even ending up in a intriguing​ conversation with Doug's Uncle Doc and Evie about the hydraulics operating the most outside the Academy. For the first time in weeks he'd been having a good time, enjoying himself and talking about the things he loves.

He'd taken a break, intent on heading back to Ben to talk to his boyfriend about their plans for dinner with his parents (and Maurice, who was so incredibly awesome that it erased the anxiety of spending time with the Queen and King just a little bit) that night, when he’d heard Queen Hilde, Audrey's grandmother, talking to Chad.

“-That son of Cruella's a corruption, you know,” Queen Hilde says, and Carlos freezes, half way to Ben. He’s used to reading the words online, used to thinking them, but he hasn’t heard anything like it aloud since they all left the Isle. “It would have been better for everyone if he'd just stayed on the Isle. No wand fiasco, no villains dirtying up our lawns, and King Ben would still be dating my granddaughter instead of villain parasite.”

“Couldn't agree more, Your Majesty,” Chad says, haughty tone in place. “The villains have been nothing but trouble- cheating in class, being undeniably rude at their first Visiting Day, even going so far as to interrupt Ben’s coronation in the way they did. I do believe that they’re taking advantage of our good King and Queen, especially that de Vil brat. Leeching off Ben like that? It’s despicable. When he was dating Audrey we were ensured of someone respectable on the throne.”

Queen Hilde smiles. “You do know how to flatter my family, young man.”

Though Carlos can't help but feel resentment to the words- he and his friends have been trying to improve themselves, whatever Queen Hilde may think- there's a certain truth to what they say. Audrey and Ben were the ideal couple, as Audrey is so fond of reminding him- they're both born royalty, raised by heroes and taught the right thing. They're both perfectly poised, always knowing to say the right thing to sway a conversation (rather than just rambling until someone has to shut them up), and they even look good together.

(And, above all, Audrey can provide Ben with wealth, support, and a biological heir. Carlos can only give himself, and that's not enough.)

(Not for Ben, who deserves the world, and certainly not for the kingdom he is destined to rule.)

“Carlos?” Ben asks from behind him, and Carlos whips around to face his boyfriend.

He smiles, frayed nerves soothed mostly by Ben's smile. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you'd like to speak with Lonnie's mother? She's visiting for Family Day and she'd like to meet you.” Carlos almost shakes his head no (he'll embarrass Ben with his rambling, he knows he will) before Ben adds the kicker: “She says she wants to meet the man who stole the heart of her dearest godson.”

And Ben's looking at him with gorgeous smile, blue eyes sparkling, and there's no way that Carlos can say no. Ben offers his arm out to Carlos, who loops his arm around his elbow. Ben then leans in and presses a kiss to Carlos’s cheek (leading his embarrassing blush to come running back) before leading his boyfriend over to meet General Li Mulan.

Everyone’s words linger in the back of his mind throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening, festering until they’ve hit a monstrous growth and they’re all Carlos can focus on.

“You okay, darling?” Ben asks as they pull up to the castle for dinner. He puts a comforting hand on Carlos's thigh. “You've been kind of quiet.”

Carlos lets out a startled laugh. Normally people want him to be quiet. Even the Isle kids sometimes express frustration with his babbling. Ben's different, though- he’s never told Carlos to shut up, instead smiling fondly whenever Carlos speaks. It's no wonder I'm in love with him. “It's fine. Just been thinking, that's all.”

“Thinking 'bout what?” Ben asks, genuinely interested, and Carlos could nearly cry with how perfect this boy in front of him is.

“You,” he says, mostly-honest.

Ben blushes, and for such a normally confident man it's really kinda cute. “Really?”

“Yeah,”

“I'm sorry,” Carlos whispers as he slips out of Ben's arms, “But you deserve better.” He’s determined not to cry, but he can feel his eyes burning. He leans forward and gently brushes a kiss against Ben's cheek. “I love you.”

Carlos grabs his satchel, complete with Mal's Emergency Isle Return™ potion, and slips out the door.

He’s going back.

[madly-empirical]

Has Hollywood Gone Batty? 

L.A. TIMES ARCHIVES

AUG. 29, 1993 12 AM PT 

Bravo to author Anne Rice (“Interview With the Vampire’s Picky Creator,” Film Clips, Aug. 22) for having the courage and honesty to publicly voice what thousands of her readers have been crying about for weeks: Tom Cruise is totally miscast as the Vampire Lestat.

Producer David Geffen is dead wrong about casting being solely a director’s choice. As members of the moviegoing public are the ones whose money will dictate how successful the film is or is not, any of the film’s financiers would be smart to listen to them (a great example of this would be the public’s choice of Clark Gable for “Gone With the Wind”).

If the screenplay remains true to its source in its dealings with the homoerotic relationship between the two lead vampires (as well as some subsidiary fangsters they meet along the way), I doubt that anyone could truly conjure the hopelessly hetero Cruise as a character actor strong enough to overcome his more-than-well-established screen persona of boy next door. His support from Geffen, himself only recently out of the closet, is curious, to say the least.

I find it ironic that the long-awaited transition of “Interview With the Vampire” from novel to screen is falling victim to another kind of bloodsucker--the Hollywood kind.

DAVE HUTCHINSON

Mission Viejo

P.S. Besides Jeremy Irons and Daniel Day-Lewis, how about three other fellow Brits for consideration, all with neck-biting experience? Gary Oldman has played gay men and king vampires with a lot of success. Or how about Julian Sands, from the low-budget wonder “Tale of a Vampire,” just released on video? And of course there’s always Ben Cross, who recently hung up his cape as Barnabas Collins in the “Dark Shadows” revival.

*

Fans of “Interview With the Vampire,” be they Cruise fans or not, must surely be aghast at his casting as Lestat. The milk-and-cookies star has neither the physical presence nor the range as an actor to effectively play the role.

Think of Dana Carvey as Dirty Harry, and you can see how implausible is the casting of Cruise as Lestat. Cruise flashing those fangs for the first time will likely engender unwarranted laughter from the audience, just as Carvey as Dirty Harry would saying “Make my day.”

With the attachment of director Neil Jordan to the project, this book seemed destined to become a fully realized artistic success after languishing for 15 years waiting to be made. Jordan should be capable of properly tackling the homoerotic elements of Rice’s sensual story, as he so ably proved with his tale of sexual ambiguity in “The Crying Game.”

Cruise’s experiment in stretching his acting range may be as painful for his audience to watch as Sylvester Stallone’s pathetic forays into comedy have been. And with the potential for a $200-million box office due to the wide public regard for Rice’s novel and the bunch-o-hunks cast producer Geffen has assembled, it is not likely that any changes will be forthcoming (as in Cruise realizing he is very wrong for the part and backing out).

Cruise as the Interviewer, yes. Cruise as Lestat (I’m still trying to stop laughing), no.

JEFF SOFTLEY

Los Angeles

*

Are they out of their cotton-picking minds? Say it ain’t so, Joe!

Back in 1978, when Rice’s “Interview With the Vampire” was first considered for a film adaptation, there was a short-lived plan to star John Travolta as the tormented vampire Louis. Now that scheme is look back on as preposterous.

But here it is 1993, and fans of Rice’s novel are forced to endure the same thing all over again, this time in the far more serious threat of Tom Cruise. Once again, the powers that be have decided to cast a young, “hot” actor they think will best pull in the big bucks, the character be damned (no pun intended).

But what was a bad idea in ’78 is a bad idea in ‘93, and oh, what a character to sacrifice! Here is a character so strong and affecting that he renders poet, novelist and National Public Radio commentator Andrei Codrescu, your Aug. 8 cover subject, momentarily speechless, and causes this same, nominally sane man to state, with apparent conviction, that an imaginary being “lives” in the Lafayette Cemetery.

Where Hollywood has erred, I think, is in the casting of such a familiar actor in the role. Vampires in general, and Lestat in particular, get their kick from their alien-ness, from their difference from the mundane. Tom Cruise is too well-known, too famous and too, well, Tom Cruise to achieve the kind of chilling strangeness the role demands.

If seems so sad to me that the studios give so much weight to the opinions of test audiences once their films are made and the money has been spent. Just this once, it would be nice if they’d listen to their audience before the damage is done.

LAURA S. KING

Anaheim

*

And I thought I was the only one offended by the selection of Cruise to play Lestat. Finally someone with sense speaks out. Thank you, Anne Rice!

Cruise, while perfectly able to play the All-American type, is not cut out to play this most ambivalent (in every sense of the word) character. If producer Geffen and director Jordan would get over the grosses of “The Firm” for just one moment, they would see the inherent problems with this gross miscasting.

Lestat is tall and sinewy, French and aristocratic, the owner of a long, blond mane. In other films, these characteristics might be altered, but not in this case. Many of Lestat’s physical characteristics are direct results of his having become a vampire.

The main problem with the casting of Cruise--indeed the casting of any of the “Vampire Chronicles” characters--is that reader identification and affection are unusually high; readers of the “Chronicles” feel that the characters are their friends. Rice is one of the best writers today at visualization. Reading one of her books is like creating a little movie in the mind. And it is highly unlikely that anyone was imagining Cruise as the vampire everyone loves to lust.

Mr. Geffen, Mr. Jordan, the box-office receipts will swell if you follow the book and the characterizations it outlines as faithfully as possible. Trust me.

ADELE BAYLESS

Los Angeles

*

There hasn’t been such bad casting since “The Bonfire of the Vanities,” and I suggest that producer Geffen look at the box office for that one, despite its being based on a best-selling novel, when he says casting is the job of the director, not a public opinion poll.

Perhaps, with Cruise as Lestat, all of Anne Rice’s fans will just stay home and reread “Interview With the Vampire.”

E. M. BECKMAN

North Hollywood

*

I concur, as would anyone with any taste and insight, that the Vampire Lestat must be played by someone with maturity, character, pathos and vulnerability, not a pasty-faced weakling.

What a shame. A marvelous story and movie are being ruined.

MICHAEL H. SUKOFF

Santa Ana

*

Cruise as the Vampire Lestat is inspired. To compliment this brilliance, Jordan and Geffen should consider cameos by Beavis and Butt-head. Heh-heh-heh.

MICHAEL ROBERTS

Twentynine Palms

*

Cruise as Lestat? Why not Bugs Bunny or Sylvester the Cat, and make it a real cartoon?

Tom Cruise--never!

GARY MANNING

Hollywood

[jacepens]

The Vamp AU No One Asked for

Intro: this one is a little more confusing, because I posted many chapters for this fic (Not Alone: How to Spot and Kill Immortal Enemies) which is unfinished! Mainly because I didn't like where the story was going and I wrestled with completely directions for the fic before just quietly abandoning it. Turns out I had four more chapters written for it! If you want to know the context (which you almost definitely need) then you can read the first four chapters using that link, or just skip this one!:) The whole story is still unfinished though and warning, if you click read more, you will have a lot to scroll through. You have been warned.

Fandom/Tags: Hamilton, Washington/Lafayette, vampire!AU, unfinished

Chapter Five

Benjamin Tallmadge visited later that night. He held a book tucked securely under his arm, along with his overstuffed satchel and various charms wrapped around his neck that were hidden under his shirt. It was not an uncommon sight to see Ben, in fact he usually came by at least once a week to speak with George. As did most everyone he met at dinner for that matter.

Lafayette rushed him inside, not wishing to let anymore humid air inside the home. Ben thanked him and then bounded up the stairs to see George. After Ben had completely disappeared, Lafayette decided to make himself busy downstairs by dusting. There always seemed to be plenty of it around. Except tonight, his curiosity had been piqued by the ghosts he’d met not only a few hours ago. The not knowing was being to gnaw at him and even if George had his reasons, they did not seem to stop him.

He strategically placed himself in the drawing room which he knew to be right underneath George’s room.

He wasn’t quite sure what he expected to hear, but even a single answer to the questions that had begun piling up would make him feel relieved. He heard the heavy footfalls of Ben’s boots accompanied by the lighter step of George. Lafayette always found it odd how a man like him could be quiet.

All he could hear was a dull mumble of voices, discernible from each other but the words not. Lafayette knew he couldn’t expect anything more and frowned, walking out of the drawing room to dust the dining room. He had to admit, he was disappointed that he would not be learning anything new tonight. And there was no possible way Lafayette could press his ear to the door without George hearing him coming from a mile away. It was possible he was already aware of his pathetic attempt at spying right now.

He sighed and dusted his way around the candelabras, figurines, and chairs in the dining room. He heard the door to George’s room crack open and Ben’s voice loud and clear: “I’ll be here next week, George.”

“Of course, take care of yourself and be wary. There is troublesome company lurking about.” Ben let out a single huff of a laugh.

“You know I’m never unarmed.” Then Lafayette heard his footsteps thudding down the stairs in rapid succession and before Lafayette could tell him farewell, he was out the door into the cool night.

“Lafayette?” George called from the top of the staircase. “Would you mind coming here?” Lafayette’s heart dropped to his stomach. He knew. He gulped and shrugged the creeping fear away as he set the duster down to climb up the stairs, nervousness slowing his every step until he reached the landing.

George said nothing when he reached the top, only nodding his head in acknowledgment before ushering him in his room. Unlike before there was not an excited, quick step, just the usual quiet and domineering ones. Lafayette gulped but held strong. He could have tried much harder to spy, he didn’t even hear anything of import.

“Lafayette,” his voice finally cut through once the door had been shut behind them. “Ben has made it clear to me that my...dishonesty might become a problem for you.” Lafayette cocked his head. Dishonesty? 

Did he consider withholding information dishonesty? Or was there something else he was missing entirely?

He frowned and his lips formed a thin line as if unsure where to begin next. With a sigh to gather himself, he looked him straight in the eye.

“You see that necklace that I gifted you is more than an ordinary necklace, as are these earrings.” Lafayette's mouth went dry. What did that mean? What had he done? His hand twitched, wanting to throw the necklace off. What did he mean, not ordinary? Lafayette did not wish to be distrusting, but for now, he would wait before doing or saying anything rash.

George seemed to be searching his face in worry, looking for signs of distress but Lafayette skillfully held his stone gaze. Years of having to do so made him quite the expert at never betraying his feelings when he did not wish to.

George cleared his throat, clearly disturbed by Lafayette’s sudden lack of emotion.

“You can take it off whenever you’d like, there is no sort of binding spell attached but they do carry certain...attachment properties. Ben cast the spell himself so nothing will ever go awry.” Lafayette arched a single eyebrow and allowed himself to glare at him, he was clearly getting out all the good things to clear the air before the bad. How foolish he was to think this was a sweet, innocent gesture! What sort of attachment properties did this thing carry? He swallowed reflexively.

“You see, you likely are already suspicious, but if you are in distress or danger and put even the slightest of pressure on the pendant it will bring you back to me or at least this house, but if I am not here it will find me for you. And I vice versa.” Lafayette took a step and crossed his arms. 

How should he feel about this? It wasn’t a bad thing, it was a potentially sweet thing, but Lafayette had no way of knowing if this thing secretly carried others powers that George did not tell, was trusting if he told him the truth Lafayette would believe him and be suspicious for nothing more. But George had offered him the earrings that night although Lafayette could easily think of many ways he could have had Ben change the spell after he was sure Lafayette only wanted the necklace.

At its best, what Lafayette wore around his neck was a sweet, comforting gesture. To know that if he was in danger he’d have a way to someone who could help. But at its worst, it could be anything and Lafayette would not know until far too late. He let out a huff.

“Let’s trade for a week. I’ll take your earrings right now and you shall wear my necklace right now for the remainder of this week.” George nodded, his face lifting in relief. 

“Of course, I’ll gladly do so.” He quickly removed the earrings and Lafayette removed his own pendant. They traded and made quick work of getting the delicate jewelry on. Lafayette certainly didn’t feel any different and George’s face only betrayed relief, no sign of hesitation or worry. Lafayette bit his lip, wondering if he should demand more. Ask Ben to remove the spell and re-enchant it where he could see, but he realized that whether smart or not he would have to trust George more. Show that he trusted him. He already trusted him with his life every single day he chose not to kill him, every day he chose not to forcibly bend him to his will. 

And if George was going to continue to be dishonest, Lafayette still had his silver cross necklace tucked carefully inside his wardrobe. Without a word, he waltzed out with a smirk, feeling confident at the bold reminder that at any moment, he too could end the vampire. 

The end of the week came uneventfully and Lafayette was a little sad to give the lovely earrings back to George. He had grown quite used to their weight, the feel of them dangling when he swished his head about, but it did become a bit troublesome at times and he was grateful to have the gold around his neck again. 

He smiled and admired the beautiful thing in his mirror, his fingers gently grasping the dangling pearl. As he stared in the mirror he suddenly heard the somber notes of a piano begin to play. Lafayette immediately perked up, curiously straining to hear the soft notes. 

He smiled and rushed down the stairs to catch George with his back turned to the doorframe, hands poised on the old black piano he hadn’t known was in any playable shape. The somber melody continued and reminded him of a mourning song until he suddenly stopped and Lafayette feared it to be over. Then suddenly he carefully played up the scales of the piano, then began involving bass notes and Lafayette felt his heart thrum in anticipation.

He gasped with a smile when the melody changed to one of quickness and speed. Lafayette was amazed to watch his hands dance so elegantly as they played the minor keys. He began wondering and he felt as if the song was telling a story of a great struggle. It was simply beautiful and George played it so flawlessly that every new note made his heart beat faster. He was glued to the doorway, hanging off of every note as he became more powerful, more loud, more exciting. He returned to a section he played previously but Lafayette found he still loved it even more the second time around. 

The silent, eighth notes began crescendoing to something dramatic and tense. A large struggle indeed, perhaps a hard-fought battle with deaths to count but victory to celebrate. Lafayette was smiling wide. It was thrilling and beautiful and it ended with a peaceful finish to a cheering Lafayette.

“George! That was brilliant! I did not know you could play like that!” He smiled, unfrozen from his amazement. He ran to George who turned to Lafyette with a faint smile, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Yes, it’s been some time since I have played, but I have always harbored a fondness for this piece.”

“Did you write it?”

“Oh goodness no. I’m afraid I do not possess the talent. I found it in what was once the home of a brilliant composer.”

“Was once the home?” Lafayette asked. George suddenly grinned, however brief it shocked Lafayette. The malicious glint in his eye, the way it felt more like a bearing of fangs than a smile sent chills down his spine.

“We razed that whole village. The composer wrote this thinking them to have won a victory against the witch, but little did they realize they were up against an entire army.” He grinned and Lafayette shivered again, growing slightly. He had never seen such a vile look on George’s face before. Never heard him talk of destruction so casually. Who was this witch he spoke of? The army? Was this army the same people he knew now? Lafayette looked to the side, staring at a large painting. 

“You do not like to hear that.” George remarked, malice gone from his voice. He sighed. “You’ll have to forgive an old soul for getting lost in his memories. It was long ago, I was under the wrong influence, we all were. I know that I shouldn’t consider that victory well, a victory, but we had suffered so many losses just recently and almost lost Ben even. It was a nice reassurance.” Lafayette huffed. “My I have truly stumbled haven’t I.” He chuckled. “It was a battle that should never have been fought, I know this to the full extent now, believe me. We are not the senseless killers we once were, I apologize if I have offended you.” He offered, pulling on his sleeves to try and tempt Lafayette to turn around and look at him.

With a sigh Lafayette closed his eyes and turned around. “I never like to pass judgment for a person based upon their past self.” He began slowly, “and judging by the state of that paper what you speak of was not recent. It's just, I don’t like to be reminded is all.” George frowned in sympathy.

“Of course not. It was wrong of me to ever speak highly of it. What we did was selfish and cruel, and that event still comes up as one of my biggest regrets, no matter the victory.” Lafayette snorted.

“You sure changed your tone fast. Why does it matter what I think of you anyway?”

“Lafayette…” He began, staring at him , his gaze full of zeal and such steadfastness it made him shiver. George gently grabbed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. Lafayette’s knees felt weak, his look, the act, it felt like worship. His hands trembled when George finally released his palm. 

George did not say another word and Lafayette gulped, his head spinning and his cheeks blushing intensely. He felt hot and his knees still seemed like jelly beneath him but he was frozen where he stood. Then he suddenly sat on the piano bench next to George. 

“Could you show me how to play?” He practically whispered after a moment. Lafayette watched in amazement as George’s face lit up. 

“I would be delighted to.”

George began showing him the very basics, which would have been unbearably boring if it was being taught by anyone but George. Watching him play, feeling his cold hands press against his own to show him exactly how to play, exactly which finger should be placed where. When he stood to watch over Lafayette as he slowly played a very simple piece. His hand traced down his spine, feeling and pressing over the little bones as he hunched in concentration. And when he pressed a breath right against his neck it made his face turn bright red, made his stomach flip, and his heart beat fast. After some hours passed, Lafayette was a blushing mess of heat. 

He was a damn traitor for letting this vampire woo him so, but it was damn near impossible because there was no reason for him to touch him nor his hands that often. Despite himself, Lafayette smiled. Oh he was such a fool.

The next night there was a new visitor at their door. She flashed Lafayette a tight-lipped smile, waiting expectantly to be let in. Lafayette stuttered, inviting her inside. She smiled wide and Lafayette involuntarily shuddered at the sight of her sharp canines.

“Might I ask who you are?” Lafayette politely smiled once she closed her lacy parasol and handed it to Lafyette. 

“Mrs Angelica Schuyler, I believe you’ve met my sisters.”

“Schuyler? Oh my, you must forgive me, I did not realize Peggy and Eliza had another sister.” She smiled fondly at that, eyes distant.

“Sister might be a strange word as Peggy and Eliza are both my descendants, but we love each other as sisters.” 

“Oh, so you were reunited with your family? That is wonderful to hear.” She let out a laugh, not unkind, sweet and genuine with a piercing edge.

“My many great granddaughters, yes. It is so nice to know them.”

“Oh, but forgive my inquiries, you are here to speak to George, yes?” 

“Do you always refer to him as George?” She asked, head tilted, giving Lafayette a sideways glance. 

“Oh.” Lafayette’s face flushed. “Well I suppose I never asked. He has never told me otherwise.”

“There is no need to fret.” She smiled, “I only wonder why he allows you such privilege when the rest of us must only know him as ‘Mr Washington’, but it is quite silly.” She grinned and Lafayette feebly nodded his head in agreement. 

“Mrs Angelica Schuyler, is that you?” George called from the top of the stairs. “I am glad to see you returned to us safe.”

“And with quite the story to tell too.” She added, looking up, confidence pouring from her steely gaze.

“Lafayette, would you mind making us some tea? Mrs Schuyler, I’ll see you in the parlor.” Lafayette nodded quickly, jumping on his toes and heading to the back door in the kitchen.

He walked the path he knew quickly to the little icehouse just beyond the house. Lafayette had been fascinated by it at first, not knowing many homes out here to have them, but George seemed determined to place his own by his home. 

Lafayette worked his way down the ladder, feeling the cold chill rise. He quickly grabbed the bottles of saved blood, tucked them under his arm and climbed back up the ladder to the more refreshing night air. 

He made his way back inside the house and quickly warmed the blood a bit and poured it into nice little tea cups that would be hell to clean later. Lafayette really needed to find a way to prevent the blood from staining so badly. He smiled, wondering if Abraham might know anything. He brought out the cups on saucers and a nice serving plate to the serious conversation Angelica and George seemed to be engaged in.  

“So Townsend is getting skittish on us, is he?”

“As he is so often prone to do, but Abigail is doing as wonderful as ever.”

Lafayette quickly scurried out before he heard something not for his ears.

“Lafayette.” George called out calmly. Lafayette swallowed down his worry and walked back inside the parlor. “Why don’t you stay?” He brought his teacup to his lips.

Lafayette wrung his hands together, casting quick glances to Angelica who seemed completely peaceful and calm, lounging comfortably in her high-back chair. Lafayette took a deep breath and brought his hands to his sides.

“Of course, sir.” He moved to stand next to George, heart now beating in excitement.

“Why do you stand when there is room on the couch?” Lafayette caught Angelica smiling to herself while George looked up at him, gesturing to the space next to him.

A blush warmed Lafayette’s cheeks as he rushed to sit down, knees pressed together, his hands settled in his lap, heart still not ceasing it’s beating.

“Are you two finished now?” Angelica chimed, amused glint in her eye. Lafayette shifted, taking another deep breath, relaxing into his place next to the much calmer George. “Good.”

“Now, the Council remains impartial on our business and is still unaware of my association, but after they put Rivington on trial, Townsend refuses to help us. I’ve tried to reason with him that he has no reason to fear for this kind of punishment even if he was put on trial, but the skittish man won’t budge.” Angelica calmly told, eyebrows pinched.

“But you said the business with Abigail remains the same?” George said from so close next to him, sending shivers down Lafayette’s spine.

“Yes, although she still worries for Cicero’s health and safety. She would abandon us in an instant if it meant protecting her son.”

“As I’ve always known.” George sighed. “Did you give her my recommended remedy for Cicero?”

“Of course, but he still struggles. Now he is plagued by chills so terrible he can’t rise from bed in the morning because he is shaking so terribly.” She frowned. George sighed, staring into his cup.

“Yes, I remember the feeling. I’m afraid I never found a way to be rid of those. Is Abigail still resistant to our...cure?” He paused momentarily, likely choosing the right words to say in Lafayette’s presence.

Angelica let out an annoyed sigh and fixed George with a glare. “You know she is.”

“Yes. Well remind her that this sickness is only temporary.”

“I have.” She remarked, calmly taking another sip from her cup, her lips stained red.

Lafayette moved to push a stray curl from his face and jumped when his hand accidentally landed right on top of George’s when he set it back down. He blushed in embarrassment and placed his hand back in his lap, not glancing at George to see if the calm on his face had shifted. It had, but Lafayette never looked up and noticed.

Angelica smiled to herself again. “Well, was there anything else you needed to hear from me? I am sorry to rush, it’s just I have not seen my sisters yet and I am a little frantic to be reunited with them after so long.”

“Yes, of course,” George cleared his throat. “I believe that is all I needed to hear from you. Thank you, Mrs Schuyler.”

“Thank you for the tea.” She grinned, rising from her chair, setting the teacup down on the side table.

Lafayette rushed to stand to help Angelica gather her hat and parasol. Lafayette heard the clatter of porcelain from the parlor and smiled to himself. Angelica fixed her hat to her head, and hooked her parasol on her arm.

“Lafayette, would you mind terribly walking with me to the tavern?” She smiled lightly.

“Of course not, Mrs Schuyler.” Lafayette nodded, already opening the door for her.

“Thank you.” She smiled, stepping out into the cool night air.

The sky was lit up by a bright full moon, casting funny shadows on the trees surrounding them. Crickets chirped happily from their hiding places in the grass and the occasional owl could be heard hooting its unique melody. Angelica’s boots crunched on the ground as they walked down the familiar path to town. She stared ahead, head not looking down for a moment, that amused yet small smile still on her face as if she was thinking of a joke.

“I’m sure you know I can get to the tavern on my own.” She suddenly broke through the nightlife. Lafayette nodded, unsure if she even looked his way. “There are a few things I wanted to tell you, Lafayette. Things he likely won’t ever tell you.” Lafayette tried to keep his heart calm, but his head turned in confusion and curiosity.

“Now, know that he has his reasons, just as I have mine for wanting to let you in on a little secret.”

“A secret?” Angelica grinned wide at that, keeping him in suspense before she responded.

“He’s scared of you, you know.”

“Who? George?” Lafayette laughed. “That’s silly.”

“Oh Lafayette, sweetheart, you have no idea the kind of trouble he’s wrapped up in right now.” The amused look never left.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Lafayette felt his fist clench as did his chest burn at the thought of George being in trouble and not telling Lafayette. He didn’t spend five years as a sea captain to learn nothing about combat and dealing with situations.

Angelica’s laugh suddenly pierced through the air.

“It’s not the sort of trouble that can be solved with fists, Lafayette.”

“Right.” He breathed, unclenching his fist, not realizing how angry he had become until she pointed it out to him.

“No, I shan’t tell you more than that. But it’s something to keep in mind. He’s not as, oh how should I put it, emotionally intelligent, as you might think him.”

“I suppose I don’t think him to have many emotions.” Lafayette smiled.

“In a way he doesn’t.” Angelica smiled. “But, I think I should be on my way before I say something I shouldn’t. I will see you around, Lafayette. Your journey is only just beginning.” She grinned wide, fangs flashing in the bright moonlight then she suddenly turned to a cloud of smoke and he watched as a bat flew off from the smoke.

How incredibly fascinating! Lafayette had never seen a vampire turn into a bat, and was of the mind that that was another false rumor he took to be fact. But there was no mistaking what he just witnessed. He smiled as he turned around to head back to his home.

He wondered what Angelica meant by all she said. George was scared of him? Why, Lafayette knew he could hold his own but in a match of strength but against George there was no denying who would be triumphant. And what sort of trouble could Angelica be talking about? Emotional trouble? But what like that could be troubling him?

Lafayette blushed to think it might be himself, that perhaps his foolish feelings were at least a little bit reciprocated. But no, that wasn’t something he should want even if those dreams plagued him more often. 

He sighed and took a breath of the fresh, clean air. He smiled, taking in the sounds around him and the beautiful moon that lit his path, the way she cast shadows between the branches to create mosaics on the dirt.

Then a twig snapped. 

It was louder than anything else and Lafayette found himself spinning around, blood rushing in his ears as he grabbed his dagger from its hiding place in his vest. He licked his lips and scanned the surrounding wood, expecting something to come charging at him at any moment.

The crickets only continued to chirp and no more disturbances occurred. Lafayette sighed, it was surely just a deer or other creature who just stepped on a rotting twig. Such a sound wasn’t so alarming, but the hairs on the back of Lafayette’s neck stayed high. He kept his dagger in his palm as he continued his journey.

He could see the barely emanating candlelight from their house and he felt a relief fill him at the sight. Then he heard George shout.

“Lafayette! Lafayette!” He called out, clearly distressed and panicked. Lafayette cursed and ran towards the sound when he heard a fast rustle in the trees, the snapping of multiple branches in a mere second. Lafayette yelped and faced the sound as he was tackled to the ground by a snarling wolf beast.

Chapter Six

Lafayette’s instincts kicked in as the beast's claws started digging into his stomach, searing pain threatening to overwhelm his senses. Tears began filling his eyes, but he would not allow himself to fall today. He tried to focus his attention on fighting back, hooking his legs around the beast as it drew blood. He lunged and threw all his weight, begging it to be enough to give him the upper hand.

In an instant, he suddenly found he was on top of the beast and wasted no time plunging the dagger into the creature’s breast before it’s claws could find his skin again. It cried out and whimpered as Lafayette continued to stab him over and over, his hands shaking violently, his chest tight with that too-familiar anger. He yelled before stabbing the beast one last time as he began to transform into a human beneath him.

Lafayette quickly stood, chest heaving, his whole body shaking with adrenaline. There wasn’t any time to think about what had happened. He had to find George. Another creature emerged from the wood, but Lafayette wasted no time quickly hooking his arm underneath it, pining it to the ground, and stabbing it until he felt assured it was dead. His heart was pounding faster than he thought possible, but his anger felt sated, he was satisfied.

He shouted when a cloaked figure suddenly emerged to grip his arms. Lafayette almost stabbed whoever it was until he realized it was George.

His breathing was ragged and heavy, his whole body trembling as he pressed close to Lafayette for support. Lafayette’s face scrunched in anger, body burning hot again at the awful sight. Whoever did this to him was going to pay.

“Are you-” he coughed, voice raspy and weak, “Are you alright, Lafayette?”

“Forget me!” Lafayette spat, “we need to get inside.” He held his bloodied dagger tight with one hand, the other trying to keep George balanced as he stumbled to the porch.

Lafayette heard a roar and saw teeth and claws lunging right for them. Lafayette flung George to the side, spread his feet wide apart to stab and fling the monster down in a quick, almost thoughtless instinct. He threw all his weight down, gasped and watched as the beast cried out, slowly turning back to its human self.

With a gulp and a steadying breath, Lafayette opened the front door and helped George inside, slamming the front door behind him.

“They can’t...get us in here.” George croaked out.

“George, what happened?” Lafayette shouted, throwing his dagger to the side to rush to George. Tears flooded his eyes when he got a good look at George, the adrenaline seeping away to gut wrenching terror, panic. There was a deep gash cut right through his clothes and into his stomach, and even his arms. He gasped and choked back his tears, so overwhelmed with concern. 

“I should’ve- should’ve been more careful.” He gasped, one hand gripping his earring so tight it was tugging harshly on his ear.

“What- what can I do to help?” Lafayette panicked. He could treat cuts and scrapes, even fix up a bullet wound if he had to, but an injury of this size- he wouldn’t know where to begin.

Blood slowly trickled out of the deep red wound, but Lafayette feared if this wound was on a human there would be too much blood.

“I can- I can heal on my- own.” He gasped out, eyes shutting tight as tears began to pour from his eyes. Lafayette pressed a trembling hand to George’s face, the other gripping George’s hand soaked in his own blood. “But I need- what I need is-“ Lafayette’s heart dropped. A victim. George needed fresh blood.

His heart hammered in his chest.

“Lafayette I’m sorry.” George gasped. Lafayette snapped his hand away from George and left him to fall to the ground at the loss of his support. Upon hearing the heavy thud of George hitting the ground, Lafayette felt his heart sink and he rushed to the ground. Why did he do that? It was just fear and overwhelming emotions all at once.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lafayette rambled, propping George against the wall. “I was scared and- and not thinking.” He swallowed, realizing his tongue was drastically dry.

“Lafayette, please.” George gasped, voice too broken and strained for Lafayette to bear hearing any longer. “Go to the next town. Find me someone. Take my-“ he coughed again, “my knife in my room. Wait- until sunrise.” Lafayette took a gulp down his dry throat.

Lafayette did not want to leave. Dammit, the worst thing he could do was leave George alone like this but, if George couldn’t then...“Will you be ok like this?”

“If you hurry.”

“But George I- surely there must be something I can do to help you until I get back!”

“You don’t- you don’t want that.” Lafayette’s chest tightened as a gasp escaped him. There was a way he could help. George wasn’t asking for it, Lafayette didn’t have to. He gulped, swallowing his pride and fear down.

“Do you need,” he paused, “me?”

“No.” He glared at Lafayette, but he would not stand down easily.

“George, if you can’t survive until I get back-“

“No!” He shouted, that single syllable ending in a cough that had him doubling over in pain as more tears escaped his eyes. Lafayette bit the inside of his lip. He was terrified that if he left George he would be leaving him to die. Why did that make him feel so bad? Dammit to hell, Lafayette couldn’t lose George! 

He didn’t care about the killing, didn’t care about the annoyingly secretive ways about him, it didn’t matter. Lafayette, Lafayette cared so much for this man, this vampire. The tears he was holding back from before suddenly began pouring from his eyes.

“I’ll be fine if you- hurry.” He wheezed.

“George I-” Lafayette cried. Allowed himself just a moment before collecting himself. There was nothing else to do. He pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, a promise. “I promise I’ll hurry.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, eyes full of joy despite the pain searing his abdomen.

Lafayette stood and held himself tall and straight, getting his mind on the task and wiping the last tear from his eye. Find George’s knife, get to the next town, find a victim, bring them all the way here for George to eat. Yes. But first, he had some wounds of his own that could use dressing. He had a few hours to prepare before the sun rose and the moon dissipated. He didn’t have a moment to spare.

He rushed down the hallway leaving George behind in the hallway, and leaving his still bloodied dagger on the floor for the curious vampire to reach out and touch, causing him to jump as he burned his hand on the pure silver. George frowned, a deep scowl set on his face as he stared, wondering how long Lafayette had been keeping that on his person.

Pushing back his curtains, Lafayette saw the first bit of sunlight peeking over the horizon. He shut the curtain closed tight and ran down the stairs to find George still sitting against the wall just beyond the door. Lafayette frowned, and poked him awake, asking if he wanted to be moved to a more comfortable spot. George shook his head and asked him to just hurry. Lafayette inhaled a shaky breath, hands gripping the satchel he’d packed. Hurry.

Lafayette nodded his head, a determined look on his face.

“I will. George, I promise I will.” He watched George slowly smile, a painful looking action. After another moment, he carefully opened up the door to not allow more than a sliver of sunlight inside. And he was off on his journey.

His heart pounded furiously as he pressed his hand against George’s knife for a reminder, comfort. It was certainly less ominous than nighttime. The birds were happily singing and the wood was bathed in a warm and soothing yellow. But Lafayette did not like that the corpses were missing. But he had a mission he had to focus on. Get George a victim and fast.

He felt that dread suddenly drop in his stomach at the thought. The feeling that what he was doing was wrong. Lafayette would have to kidnap someone, unseen to bring back for George to kill. But if he didn’t, George would die. And if he did, an innocent person would die.

Lafayette took a deep breath of fresh, morning air. There were some people that the world could do without, right? Maybe if he just found a terrible person he wouldn’t feel so sick for leading them to their death. But did he have the time to find a so-called ‘terrible person’ ? And he still wasn’t entirely sure on the part of the plan that required getting a still-living person on a horse all the way back home.

The trees disappeared in the background as Lafayette made his way into town, the low peaks of buildings and the church coming into view. He grabbed a horse from the stables, promising the man he’d take good care of her and be back with her by nightfall if he was lucky.

The closest town was still a good hour away on paths not used often by others, hopefully making his journey back easy. He idly placed one hand to the dagger resting at his hip while the other gripped the horse’s reins. He traced the intricate patterns engraved on the scabbard while keeping an eye out for any enemies.

The image suddenly flashed in his mind of George weak and dying alone in their house. and Lafayette spurred his horse to go a little faster. He passed a few people on occasion, simply nodding at them and then going on his way. There was a group of three men, each on horseback approaching him from the opposite side of the road. They looked like the gruff type to cause trouble if Lafayette stared a moment too long so he turned his gaze the other way, completely ignoring them.

“‘Ey!” One of the men called out, suddenly blocking Lafayette’s path. Lafayette huffed and stopped himself from slitting his throat right then and there because there was now no situation where this would end well. “What’re you doin with a thing like that round your neck?”

The other two men crept around him to circle him in. Lafayette scowled. So this was how it was going to be? “Excuse me gentlemen,” Lafayette smiled his most polite, charming smile. “But I really must be getting into town.”

“Not with a thing like that on your neck you ain’t. Who the hells do you think you are, you little molly?” The men laughed and Lafayette felt his restraint snap with a glare. Lafayette locked in a glare with their leader, knowing this tense peace would only be lasting a second longer.

He cast quick glances at the other two men, hand subtly reaching down to George’s dagger. The man behind him cried out, “What do you think you’re gonna do with that?” He sneered and the others laughed. Lafayette’s hand twitched, rage turning his face hot as he suddenly threw the dagger at the cackling man. The moment the dagger left his fingers, his heart sunk. He just threw away his chance at getting out of this mess.

His eyes went wide in shock as he watched it pierce the man’s throat with perfect precision. He gasped, so that was why George wanted him to have this. 

He smiled in satisfaction as the man collapsed to the ground, grasping at the dagger in his throat. The others gasped and backed away slowly, glancing quickly to the side. They were already looking to escape. Lafayette huffed and jumped off his horse to grab at the bloody dagger and fling it in the general direction of the other man. He waited until he heard that sickly crack and gurgling that let him know he hit his target. The leader nervously fumbled for his dagger as he jumped off his horse to fight Lafayette. He was visibly shaking like a leaf, holding his knife up to him, gasping for air.

Lafayette just smiled cooly as he removed the dagger from his last victim. The man stood with his feet apart, poised to strike but all Lafayette felt was calm. He turned the bloody dagger over in his hand, getting ready to throw it and watched with satisfaction as the man flinched.

In two quick strides he was right in front of the trembling man. He wordlessly wretched the dagger from his hand and tossed it on the ground. He held the dagger at a point to his neck and glared, the temptation to spit on his face all too real as he snarled.

“You’re coming with me, molly.” He hissed back. He expected the man to fight, to punch him hard in the face and make him work for George’s victim, but he looked more paralyzed with fear than ready to fight. Huffing, Lafayette yanked the man’s arm to pull him to his unsuspecting horse. She snorted and pawed at the ground as Lafayette pushed the man up, quickly following behind him.

The man grabbed the reins with a dazed, fearful look in his eyes. Lafayette wrapped his arms around his waist to point the dagger into his stomach. The man gasped and Lafayette could feel him shaking.

“Where...?” He breathed out, looking nervously at Lafayette.

“Do you know the back way to Milford?”

“Yeah.”

“Go that way, follow my instructions when I tell you because we are not going into town, you understand?” He meekly nodded his head and Lafayette felt his heart surge with a strange feeling of pride.

Lafayette spurred the horse to begin trotting, making sure the man who limply held the reins would take them the right way. He removed his arm from his waist when he saw others approaching, but made sure to keep the dagger poking on his back, a reminder. Lafayette smiled sweetly at them, while they nodded their heads back in greeting.

The journey back was short, and soon Lafayette was directing the man around town through the thick woods to ensure they were not seen by more people than necessary.

“What are you?” The man whispered fearfully as they began to approach his home, the sun still high in the sky, still shaking.

Lafayette laughed. “I’m afraid I’m ordinary.”

“What are you gonna do with me?”

“What is with these questions all of a sudden?” He grumbled.

“I mean, why not just kill me? I don’t understand what you could want with me.” He smiled to himself.

“You’ll see in time just how important you are to me.” And him. He thought wickedly. 

Then he suddenly gulped, when did he become so cruel? Well, he was terribly provoked. It was not as if the man did not deserve what was coming his way. Lafayette was sure he was not the first to have had that word hurled from this man’s mouth right after a piercing dagger. There was likely more blood on this man’s hands than Lafayette’s. He was the one who cleaned the blood, not spilt it. Only when he had to, of course.

Lafayette saw the house in the distance, slowly rising closer to view. The man suddenly let out a gasp, beginning to squirm away.

“I know this house! Oh please, please. Not me! Why me?”

“Maybe if you wouldn’t provoke strangers and steal from them, you would not be in this spot hm?” He spat, “Now keep going! There’s no escaping now.” If the man was smart he would’ve jumped off the horse and ran, knowing Lafayette couldn’t attack without spoiling his blood and he was carrying no ice to preserve it. But it seemed the man was unaware of this solution. Or perhaps he still didn’t truly know what he was walking into.

Lafayette yanked at the man’s rough shirt as soon as he dismounted from the horse. The rope slipped from his one hand multiple times as he tried to tie the horse down, but he could not lose his catch now. Not when he was so close to helping George.

The man was rigid and hard to move as he dragged him to the front door. He had to be careful to not swing the door wide open as he went in first, pulling the man behind him and slamming the door shut with a loud thud. He stood shaking in the hallway, wide eyes glued to the vampire Lafayette left behind.

Lafayette let out a gasp when his eyes took in his form. Decayed and grey, looking as if he had aged to his true sickly form. For an agonizing moment Lafayette feared him dead until with struggle, he raised his head and opened his heavy eyelids. They were grey and horribly bloodshot, never before did George look so like a dead man walking. Lafayette’s heart raced in his chest at the sight. He could see the man trembling and Lafayette gulped and shoved him forward roughly.

All he heard was a fast shuffle followed by a sick crack and the strangled cry of the man as George clamped down on his neck, chasing the blood dripping down. Lafayette stood frozen, eyes glued and watching as the glow of life was slowly drained from the man and returned to George. It was incredible to watch as his sagging skin pulled back into place, the grey replaced with color, every moment his grip on the man seemed to become tighter and stronger. And the George he recognized was before him once more, leaving the slumping body on the floor.

Lafayette tore his gaze from the glassy eyes to meet George’s, a chill running down his back the moment he did. He suppressed another shiver as his tongue darted out to catch a drop of blood. His gaze then turned dark, brows furrowing together and Lafayette felt hesitant to step any closer, grateful for the distance between them.

“What were you doing with that dagger, Lafayette?” He hissed, low and cool but Lafayette could feel the mounting rage thick in the air.

“I- what- what dagger?”

“The silver!” He roared, launching to his feet far faster than any human could. Lafayette’s feet carried him backwards, his legs shaking. “The pure silver dagger on your person! You were carrying it around for God knows how long. What were you planning to do with it?” There was another inhumanly fast movement, too fast that Lafayette couldn’t think, only cry out in pain as his back collided with the front door. George was pressed close, his hands on either side of his head, baring his fangs and hissing. 

Lafayette’s heart was pounding so fast in his chest, his whole body shaking so terribly that tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Never once had he been so terrified of George, so aware of the strength he possessed.

“Please George, it is only my family dagger. I have carried it since I turned 13. I did not even realize that—!”

“And you expect me to believe you? What have you truly been after all this time? Gaining my trust, learning my secrets, stealing my heart, what is it for?” He spat right in his face, slamming his hand against the door so loud Lafayette heard the wood crack.

“George, please, I promise-“ his lips were stopped by something cold. Lafayette was stuck for another moment fearing what he felt was the cold kiss of death, but then he realized what his eyes were seeing. It was George. George who was pressed so close, George who kissed him with a certain hesitancy and urgency that turned into something clumsy. His eyes began slipping shut and just as his hands were going to pull him closer, George pulled away. By the time Lafayette opened his eyes he was facing the other direction.

“Clean up this body.” He spat harshly before stomping his feet down the hallway and into the darkness. Lafayette’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, every nerve in his body feeling on edge and agitated and just as he began to catch his breath his knees gave out beneath him.

He kissed him. Lafayette kissed a vampire. His tongue could taste the faintest hint of metallic blood still left over on his lips. Oh what would his grandmother say if she saw him now?

Chapter Seven

Lafayette found these last days with George to be particularly trying on his patience. George was aloof and the brief moments Lafayette caught a glimpse of him, he would suddenly snap at him about the dust he spotted in one nook or another. It was downright infuriating being on the receiving end of that man’s temper. But what was Lafayette supposed to do? It was like George expected him to do something, to say something, but why?

“Lafayette, there are reports in town of a strange killing of men on the way to Dayton. That wasn’t you was it?” He curtly began as soon as he opened the front door, the last dark cloud dissipating above the house. Lafayette set down his rag, but didn’t give George a second glance.

“And what does it matter?”

“It matters because you couldn’t clean up the mess you made.” He hissed, throwing his coat on the rack next to the door. Lafayette’s hand tensed around the cloth in his hand, scrubbing away at the blood of his latest victim that somehow made its way to the walls. He bit down on his tongue and could feel his jaw clenching tight.

“I was trying to get to you as fast as I could.” He clenched out, scrubbing harder on the wall.

“Be careful!” He snapped, “you’re going to scrub the wallpaper off.”

“Then do it yourself!” He cried, rage boiling over as he threw the rag at George who didn’t flinch. His eyes watched it fall before they settled on Lafayette once more, any semblance of peace gone, only black.

“You dare disrespect me?” His lips curled to reveal those sharp teeth, but Lafayette kept his gaze straight in his eyes. He would not be bullied into submission today.

“God forbid one of your pets disrespects you.” There was a loud bang as his back collided with the wall, George breathing furiously into his face as he seethed with rage. There was a shooting pain in his spine, but he still refused to show fear.

“I see right through your little facade, Lafayette. Don’t forget, I know you, you worshipped me.”

“I would hardly call being terrified to my knees worship!”

“I could kill you, Lafayette. Put an end to this ridiculousness right now.”

“And I could kill you right back.” There was a soft gasp as George’s eyes looked at his neck, noticing for the first time that he did not wear his necklace that was gifted to him. The thin silver chain that hung around his neck just low enough to hide the cross that sat at the bottom.

“Do not act as if you are the only one with strength. As if you hold all the cards, as if I will come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. You’d best not cross me George or you will regret doing so greatly.” Lafayette watched George swallow, watched the tiniest glimmer of fear make its way on his face. Watched with glee at the way his eyebrows rose in shock before dropping back down to a scowl.

Without another word, he released Lafayette from his tight grip and turned on his heel.

“There is some blood still in the basement.”

Lafayette knew the cause of the temper, but truthfully he was terrified of acknowledging it. Of acknowledging anything he might have felt in that moment and other past moments. But George’s current attitude certainly made him less inclined to be so kind or caring toward him. Perhaps in that moment it had all come crashing down. The fantasy he was living, the lie he told himself. That this was good, that he was good. A killer, a monster was all he was. Somehow Lafayette forgot that. But surely he couldn’t allow himself to feel such things for him. There were too many other things to worry about, too many other things that could go horribly wrong one day. It was a foolish lie he told himself, that anything about George was not cruel, was not terrible. It should not be so difficult to convince himself of such truths. Did that make Lafayette a monster as well?

The next day there was a knock on their cracked front door. Lafayette let out a long sigh as he set down the dishes he was scrubbing to answer it, wiping his hands on a towel before he opened the door. 

“Ah! Alex and John. Yes, he was expecting you. Come in.” Alex and John gave each other a quick glance before stepping inside. They shrugged out of their coats, not saying a word as Lafayette rushed to grab them. “I would appreciate not being drained.” He mumbled as he threw the coats on the rack.

“Oh don’t worry, we know better.” Alex chuckled.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lafayette hissed before he could control himself, hands frozen against his hips.

“Well come now, we all know George would kill us if we tried that again.”

“Yeah and it’s a real bummer too, you’re always so energetic.” Laurens sighed.

“I don’t know John, he’s tired today.”

“Stop reading me!” Lafayette shouted, his face red. “Just go upstairs, I’m sure he knows you’re here.” He pouted, turning around to return to the kitchen. 

He listened to their fading footsteps on the staircase, running his hand through his hair. Since when did he snap like that? Alex and John didn’t do anything wrong, it wasn’t their fault that Lafyette was feeling...tired. Yes that was actually a lovely way of putting it. He was exhausted. There was no worrying about it now, there always seemed to be things to do around the house since its occupants' attitudes had soured.

He was replacing some of the burned wood in the main fireplace with fresh pieces. The autumn weather had begun to make everything just cool enough that at least one small fire should be going to keep himself comfortable, but he rather missed not having to worry about it. And once winter started he feared he would have to suddenly become a lumberer. He had always assumed he would be able to ask for George’s help, but such an idea was out of the question now. 

Once it was properly burning well, Lafayette turned around to find candles that needed replacing. He had a system and it should be the time that most of the candles in the parlor need replacing. He would also need to pick up more candles for the library once he got the chance. 

There was suddenly a loud pop followed by the sizzle of something burning and Lafayette’s heart raced fast as he spun around to find the fireplace. His frantic mind began searching for signs of anything burning, but the fire continued crackling peacefully like it hadn’t scared him half to death. He stalked closer, hesitant to get a good look at whatever could have made that noise, mind running wild with strange and terrifying ideas. There was a letter! In the middle of the fire, it burned fiercely but the paper stayed intact. Fumbling around, he used the tongs to try and carefully pull the letter from the flames.

He yelped when he dropped the letter to the carpet, racing to catch it and prevent it from burning a hole through it. But of course, the letter wasn’t even a little hot. Lafayette found himself scowling at the strange letter that caused him so much fear. It was obviously another secret George did not bother to let him in on. A simple warning might have done him well, but alas, this letter likely needed to get to George now. Looking at the envelope, the only thing written on it was the name Abigail in a delicate and beautiful cursive. That name sounded familiar, but not enough to ring any bells.

He tucked the letter under his fingertips, bounding up the stairs to reach George in his room, discussing whatever it could have been with Alex and John. He could hear the mumble of their voices, George’s low and soothing voice. He paused at the door, suddenly hesitant to knock, hesitant to see his face scowling at him another time. The child in him wanted to slide the letter under the door and run down the stairs, heart caught in his throat. But in his indecisiveness, the door before him was flung open and there it was again. 

He set his face into a hard line, a deep scowl, holding his back a little straighter to match the man in front of him.

“What?” He barked.

“There was a letter in the fireplace. I’m assuming it’s yours.” He held it out, waiting for George to snatch it away from his fingers. His eyes settled on the name and Lafayette stared intently at the way his lips parted. He furiously ripped open the letter and scanned it’s contents, eyes widening as he swallowed. 

“I- I need to go.” He rushed, shoving the letter into his coat.

“Is everything alright, sir?” John asked, standing up.

“I will be back as soon as I can.” He pushed John aside to grab at amulets that had been carefully placed in a box. He grabbed a light green one and wrapped it around his wrist, then he threw open a drawer to begin shuffling around in there. He produced a small vial that from the looks of it contained a thick, pink substance. Suddenly that was shoved in his coat as well and George looked more like a blur the faster he shuffled around the room, pushing Hamilton and Laurens so much they were practically standing with him in the doorway.

“Lafayette,” Lafayette focused his eyes on George, suddenly motionless and looking right at him with that steadfast emotion he hadn’t witnessed in weeks. “I need you to take care of the house while I’m gone. And if there are any disturbances, anything you cannot handle, you must let me know immediately.” 

“Yes, of course.” Lafayette swallowed, his mouth dry.

“And I- I need you to wear the necklace again, ok? If we need each other I cannot help you without the connection.” Cold hands wrapped around his and Lafayette watched as his tough demeanor melted. His shoulders sunk, his voice softened and his eyebrows were raised just slightly, giving his face that perfect and innocent look of devotion Lafayette didn’t realize he had been craving so desperately. “Please, Lafayette. I know I cannot- should not- ah. But, please. I will be back as soon as I can.” His cheeks were hot and his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking ever so slightly until George clutched them tighter. He leaned forward to press a cold kiss to his forehead. “Be safe.” He whispered against his forehead, so close the breath left shivers down his spine.

“Of course.” He croaked out. Then in a puff of smoke he was gone, rising away to God knows where. Lafayette gulped as he stared ahead at the wall. George was gone, something was wrong and George was going to fix or help, but he was gone. Lafayette had never been alone before, had never felt so warm, had never suddenly felt nervous for George. Nervous that interaction could have been their last as he wrapped his arms around himself, cold making his whole body tremble. He felt his knees buckle as they so frequently did, but he was able to balance himself against the door instead of collapsing. 

“Lafayette are you alright?” Alex asked, rushing towards him.

“Yeah, what was all that?” John looked around like he was still confused, like George would appear any second. “Did you see who the letter was from?”

“The name Abigail was written on the envelope.” Lafayette sighed, uncurling his arms from around himself, feeling his breath steady. Something terrible had overtook him suddenly in the moment. The moment George embraced him, asked him to be safe. All his emotions had come back in such a rush and then he was just...gone. Gone and leaving Lafayette to deal with the aftermath on his own.

He heard John gasp next to him, then Alex speak up. “You don’t think something’s happened to her do you?”

“Let’s hope not.” John shook his head. “Or Townsend. I know he was having trouble recently, but I didn’t think he would actually get caught. Alex, what if-”

“Ok, that’s enough, John.” Alex suddenly snapped. “There’s no use in speculating. We should just hope for the best. Lafayette, will you be alright on your own?”

“I will get along.” He nodded resolutely. “I promise.”

“Let any of us know if you need help. We’re not here to be enemies.” Alex smiled at him. 

“Thank you, I will.”

Lafayette wasn’t sure when the pair left, but when he heard the front door slam shut he knew that he was alone in the large home. But he stayed in George’s room, frozen and afraid to move. There was a desperate curiosity in him now, the need to know intermingling with the desire to never leave his space. With a deep breath, he was drawn in to the coffin placed proudly in the center of the room. He ran his fingertips over the intricate designs and patterns. Flowing leaves, vines, and birds made up the etchings around the side. It was oddly quaint and lovely for a vampire and the pattern reminded him of the ones woven onto some of his best waistcoats. Lafayette wanted to throw the lid of the coffin, inspect it’s inside. He wanted to know if it was warm, if it was plush, if it would remind him of the first time he saw George sleeping. Then if it would hurl him back into the past and his doomed ship and crew. He never got to say goodbye, was never given the chance to apologize. George selfishly took so he could have him for himself. George stalked him throughout his entire life, he forced himself into every aspect of his life, hunting Lafayette down until he was in his clutches. So then, why was Lafayette suddenly so desperately needing him to be by his side? Needing to know, needing to be reassured that he would be returned to him safely?

Lafayette fell to his knees by the coffin, tears pricking at his eyes, lump forming thick in his throat as he cried. 

Chapter Eight

“Walls have ears, doors have eyes, trees have voices, beasts tell lies. Beware the rain, beware the snow, beware the man you think you know.” -??????

It was strange and eerie to be in the house by himself. Every squeaky board, drafty wind, even the fire had him jumping and his heart pounding. He had never been alone in it before and while he wanted to search and find dangerous things, the things George wouldn’t let him see, he ultimately decided he would rather wait than see something horrible. And besides, Lafayette understood the want to keep certain things private. Lafayette often desired to keep everything about his childhood and his own past private when it came to curious strangers. So he continued about his daily business as if nothing was wrong.

But every night when he laid down in bed, that was when he became hyper aware of the sounds surrounding him. The rustle of leaves, the house settling and groaning, even the occasional scratching of an animal outside had him constantly waking up. He hadn’t realized until he was gone how safe he felt with George around. Lafayette was not weak, was not the kind to run from a fight...but there was something about being attacked in his sleep, about not even getting the chance to fight that left him shaking and in a cold sweat.

It had been a week since George left, and Lafayette foolishly missed him more everyday. Every time he would round a corner he would expect to see George, or hear the sounds of him playing the piano, even the sound of him pacing in his room. But there was nothing. He was still gone. There was no one to fill his time with pleasant, strange conversation, no one to guilt into helping him. He was quite lonely Lafayette realized one quiet night. Then a week after George’s departure, looking at the calendar Lafayette realized it was his birthday.

Yes, how old was he now? 27? 26? He had a few birthdays on the sea that he admittedly forgot to count, but he knew it was something like that. It didn’t matter much to him and it wasn’t as if it was a mystery, all he had to do was count his birth year to this year. The celebration of a birthday became a not so fun occasion the older he got and the wiser he became to the fact that his birthday celebrations were simply ways for his family to show off their wealth to other families. It was petty and cruel and downright ridiculous. All this was to say, Lafayette preferred to treat the day like every other day. Although it did bother him to be alone. He couldn’t help but wonder if George had something planned. Another gift perhaps? Or would he have played him a song? Took him into town to buy him a sweet? He did not realizing he began smiling at the thought of spending a whole day with George, black cloud protecting him, as they leisurely enjoyed the simple pleasantries Milford had to offer.

The sharp knock on the door shocked Lafayette so badly he jumped and dropped the candle he had been holding. Thank God he already blew out the flame. He quickly set the candle on the table and ran over to answer the door, but he stopped just short of the handle. He did not know who would be on the other side of the door. George told him to be careful, to take care of this place, but who could possibly be at George’s door? He had not made it known he would be having visitors.

Taking a deep breath and leaving one hand on top of his dagger, he slowly opened the door, so slow it creaked loudly throughout the quiet house. Ah! But it was a familiar face. Lafayette’s shoulders relaxed and his lips turned up in a small smile. 

“Caleb, Yes?” He asked the bearded man he recognized from dinner. 

“The one and only.” He smiled brightly, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m here to deliver you a gift from George. Today is your birthday, right?”

“Oh! Yes, it is.” The smile did not reach his eyes. “Did he send you after he had to leave?”

“Leave? He ain’t here now? No, he’s wanted to gift you this for months now. Has been planning it ever since you arrived.”

“Wait...you don’t mean...”

“Oh I do mean.” He smiled bright and turned around to yell at a person supposedly hiding just at the bottom of the stairs. 

Lafayette’s heart began pounding in his chest, his mouth felt dry and he suddenly could not hear anything over the pounding in his ears. Dear God, he wasn’t joking.

“Lafayette? Is that- is that you?” At seeing the man’s fresh face, bright and cheery like he’d always remembered it, there was no hiding the surge of excitement that coursed through him as he threw his arms around the familiar man. He felt crushed by that hug like he hadn’t known in months and he was weeping freely into his shoulder.

“Hercules!” He squealed, “Hercules! It is you!” He stayed secured in that embrace for what could have been an hour, sniffling and crying at the relief, the joy, the disbelief. His best friend was here! Was hugging him tightly and crying as well, oh God could there be a more joyous moment? 

He wasn’t even sure when they parted, but he suddenly was looking at Hercules’s face and not his shoulder.

“Lafayette, I...what happened?” His face fell, the joyous bubble burst, leaving him to see the pain in his friend’s face. His lip was trembling just a little like it only would at the worst of times, usual soft eyes glistening and fearful. Did he not remember? Would it be up to Lafayette to explain that he was killed? Was killed by none other than the other inhabitant of this home? Who also happened to be the one slowly stealing Lafayette’s heart?

It hit Lafayette as his friend entered the house and Caleb waved goodbye. George gifted him his previously dead friend. And for what? To say he was sorry somehow? To win his affections? What the hell kind of ‘gift’ is this? 

Lafayette sat him down in the parlor.

Hercules looked around in wonder and confusion, not saying a word since he entered. Lafayette could not discern what the features on his face meant like he used to be able to do. His friend, dead months ago, now before him and too normal.

Lafayette brought out some hot tea and sat in the chair across from Hercules. He could not look into his eyes, so he looked into the dull tea and blew the drifting smoke rising and flowing.

“You live with him.” His steady voice interrupted his cloudy thoughts. He set the tea down, still unable to look up.

“So, you remember?” His voice was quiet, if he did not know his friend so well he would fear the other would not understand him. But Hercules never once seemed to have trouble understanding what he was saying, or look through his words to find his truth. It was the sort of honesty that only came with the best of friendships.

“He’s a monster, Gilbert.” Gilbert. Did he really need to call him Gilbert? And in that voice reserved for quietly scolding him, that tone of voice that said you should know better.

Lafayette sat up straighter and took a light breath. “Perhaps. But there are more and worse evils in this world. More evil than you and I will ever know and he-”

“And he is not excluded from this?” He remained steady, calm, but Lafayette could tell he was losing his patience just in his tone of voice. Lafayette looked up.

“Yes.” 

“What has he done to you?” And there was that goddamn pity again. “This is not the Lafayette I remember.” He whispered.

His chest burned at the accusation. “The Lafayette you remember?” His hands shook. “You were all dead! I was cornered! I-  Hercules what could I have done?”

“So you regret what you’ve done?”

There were tears falling from his eyes, he did not remember starting to cry, but he wiped them away anyway. “No. No- I- Hercules I have missed you so much.” He chuckled, smiling at the sudden remembered fact that he was here with Hercules! 

“I do not want you getting the wrong idea about me and him, Hercules.” He looked up and gave him a small smile. “We may have started on a rocky terrain but I- well against my better judgement I trust him.” he chuckled, “He even gave me a charm I can use, if I ever want to leave that is. I have never even once considered using it, well…”

“What?” His friend sprang forward.

“No, no! It is nothing like that. Only we have had a certain disagreement that has strained our relationship, and made him just...bitter.”

“What sort of disagreement?”

Lafayette laughed, “My dear friend, if I told you, you would kill George yourself!”

“That does not reassure me, Lafayette.”

“Well it’s simply that...he kissed me, Hercules. And now I don’t know what to do.”

“He did what?”

“Oh sit back down!” “You must understand it was not, well it is not unwanted. Pathetic, no?”

“Lafayette…” “It is only because-! Because he is so,” he smiled, “Handsome and charming. When I am with him I feel a warmth I have never known. It is so hard to describe, but I just want to be with him and have his love. But now…” He frowned, “Well now I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Only you would go and fall in love with a vampire.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

Bonus Deleted Scene??

But somehow...Lafayette found himself listening intently to the songs he played on the piano. He found himself rounding each corner with a beat in his heart, still hoping to run into him or see him lounging about or working like he was used to. The closest thing he got to seeing George was studying the paintings of him. What poor fool still longed for a vampire even after what happened to him? Not just the cold behavior, but before that, years before Lafayette stood a chance. At a time when a sweet, orange cat was his best friend.

“Ginger! Come and play with me!” Lafayette giggled, racing across the courtyard. The cat looked up from where he was napping in the sun, his eyelids droopy. He yawned wide, giving Lafayette a look at his sharp incisors and rough tongue. Smiling brightly, Lafayette poked the cat’s little tongue while it was mid-yawn. The cat suddenly closed it mouth swiftly, looking around bewildered until it’s gaze leveled on Lafayette, glaring and unamused.

Lafayette let out a loud laugh at the angry cat’s face. The cat turned its head and went to licking its paw.

“Oh come on, Ginger I was just messing with you. It’s too easy!” The cat looked back up at him and meowed. “Oh. I guess you really didn’t like that did you?” He meowed again, tail twitching in annoyance. “I’m sorry, Ginger. I promise I won’t do it again. Are you still mad?” Lafayette held out his finger to see if the cat would accept his peace offering and rub his cheek against it or turn his head.

Ginger let out a contented meow, gave his finger a little lick before rubbing his cheek against it. “Aw, thanks Ginger.” He grinned, giving him his whole hand. “But, are you sure you don’t want to play with me? I haven’t gotten to play all day. Mom is forcing me to take violin lessons now.” He grumbled, sitting down in front of the cat. Ginger stood up and stretched out his legs before looking at Lafayette and meowing again. “Really? Oh thank you, Ginger! You’re the best! Come on, let’s go!” The young boy eagerly got to his feet and starting running fast in the other direction, smiling and laughing and turning his head to make sure the cat was following him.

“George, what the hell was that about?” He mumbled to himself, sighing and sitting down in front of the fireplace. What could he have possibly wanted with a young boy? And...should Lafayette be more concerned about how long George has been wanting to kiss him? Or does it really matter now? No, was the answer. What mattered was that he would never be able to put those two together. They were two different friends to him at two very different times. And they both knew very different Lafayette’s. 

Lafayette stared into the weak embers of the fire, idly scratching at his skin, watching the little yellows and oranges fizzle out on the last pieces of wood. It wasn’t even cold out, Lafayette was just a little chilly so he lit a small fire for himself, but now... what was he doing?

He had a life, friends, a fine ship, and a finer crew. George took that all away from him, promised him something better. Was this what was supposed to be the better thing, the offer he couldn’t refuse? Why him? Why him? Why him?

[winderlylandchime]

1/2 And we are at 5x04! And this is where I officially start dying inside: the episode starts with the foursome ‘OH? OKAY! Look at them living their best life. You go boys! 4 years? 4 weeks? brian? Where have you been for the past 4 seasons? THEY FUCKED A COUPLE? Oh these two have it figured out. Nice. See this is what their finale will be: Together fucking couples.’ ‘OKAY WHERE THE FUCK IS HUNTER? Did they just forget about him? Its all about Jenny Rebecca now and no Hunter?’ ‘TED IS GETTING PLASTIC SURGERY? brian sees right through people. (brian says gay men are obsessed with youth and beauty and calls it pathetic) Bri Bri, you wanted to kill yourself because you turned 30.’ And we are at Justin/Mel/Linds scene ‘okay Lindsay this victim act you got going on is so fucking tiring. Yeah, where the fuck is Gus? I don’t know why but something about Justin being with JR is so weird to me. Give him Gus! He’s his step dad dammit!’ ‘HUNTER, HE’S ALIVE! Im glad someone remembers he exists. Look at him being the next Olympic swimmer’ he just saw Loretta/Rosie looking like Deb at the diner and pointed to the screen and yelled ‘IDENTITY THEFT IS NOT A JOKE, ROSIE’ and then went dead silent. And we are now at the Brian/Mikey scene in the comic store ‘why is Mike being a bitch about superheroes party? He’s having a dinner party and wants Brian and Justin there? Sounds boring but at least Justin is invited.’ ‘Wait, Justin is gonna have a gallery show? That’s so fucking cool! Oh for fucks sake Lindsay, cry a fucking river. Not to be a horrible person but this whole victim act she is on needs to be called out by someone. Preferably Brian. Is she for real trying to start another custody battle over Justin?’ And we are back to Britin! ‘Why is Blondie suddenly hung up on other people’s relationships? If they cant make it? Blondie, mel and linds were the worst couple from the beginning. I actually agree with Brian, i hate when couples finish sentences for each othe- look at Blondie mocking him. I love my boys..*he goes dead silent while Brian talks about marriage* is it just me or does he sound very…*waves his cast in the air all awkward* season 1?’ And we are at the dinner with Monty and Eli ‘i was right this dinner is boring as fuck. I cant stand these two. You’re gonna actually tell me that Justin would enjoy them? I’m having war flashbacks to Ethan’s party. (Eli/monty mentions a petition to put in speed bumps) he said that to Brian as if that man cares. As if that man didn’t drive like he wanted to hit every kid in the pilot episode when he dropped off Justin at school. LOOK AT JUSTIN BRAGGING ABOUT HIS MANS JOB! I am living for him not remembering people’s names. Fuck these two. Justin wouldve HATED them, i know that for a fact so i don’t know why hes acting all mannered. Also fuck Mike, what kind of a friend just sits there and watches his best friend get attacked like that by two randoms?! (Brian just gave Mikey the swing gift) *starts laughing* oh fuck all of you that was funny, look up the word humor and add it to your personality because that was good’ And now we are at Hunter’s swim meet ‘i cant believe im agreeing with Ben but hold the fuck up. In front of our friends? And what is Brian? I thought he was your best friend? You’ve only reminded us of that every fucking episode. GO HUNTER! SWIM YOU LIL SHIT! (And the blood/callies parents moment happened) WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING SHIT JUST HAPPENED?! I AM GOING TO KILL HER PARENTS! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING SHIT WAS THAT?! FUCK EVERYONE.’ ‘Okay this is gonna sound weird but i swear Mel prefers the baby over Gus. Give gus to Brian and Justin for the night. I want to see how that would go! Why haven’t i gotten that yet?’ And we are back to Britin at babylon ‘i love that Blondie is just randomly visiting his man at work. Would’ve loved it even more at the office but i learned something with this show *looks at me and points at me with his cast* take what they give you cause they hate me for some reason. Why is Michael a topic of conversation with them? Fuck him.’

See this is what their finale will be: Together fucking couples. Cries in Britin.

*he goes dead silent while Brian talks about marriage* is it just me or does he sound very…*waves his cast in the air all awkward* season 1? AGAIN your brother sees it. I do sometimes wonder if as a fandom we just get into these vacuums of opinion that encourage us to see what we want to see (which is valid, art is up for interpretation) and would be completely nonexistent to someone watching for the first time without all the knowledge about the ship and the show. But your brother really sees how the writers erased Brian's growth and revert him to S1.

The comment about the speed bumps is hilarious. He really did drive like he was playing bowling for kids and his Jeep (rip) was the bowling ball.

Also fuck Mike, what kind of a friend just sits there and watches his best friend get attacked like that by two randoms?! MMHMM

That dinner is so awkward and cringe, I can't watch it. The secondhand embarrassment is too much and I die. (Seriously, I close my eyes and plug my ears and sing "la la la" and make my spouse tap me when the scene is over.)

[im-the-punk-who]

I'm going to be a little shit and say soft Gunnbones bc yeah ❤

SAMMMMMMMMM YOU LITTLE - listen i take no responsibility for this.

Also I am 90% sure these sound nothing like them but in my defense I have literally never paid attention to Ben Gunn in my life and Billy doesn’t even know what Billy sounds like.  (Also on AO3!)

---------------

“The task I am giving to you is of the utmost importance. Deliver Flint, then find the cache and return with it.”

The words echo in Ben’s head and he feels fear grip him again. The threat in Silver’s voice - with it or not at all - sends him further into the forest. It’s even more eerie than it had been the first time he’d seen it. Now, there is no battle, no war. No one to run from. Just him, alone - in a forest filled with an increasing number of ghosts - and a nearly impossible task. 

He’s been here a week already with no sign of even a shovel mark. He’s had to remember the trapping his father taught him - snares and watching for game tracks and how to make a spear from a knife. 

Those memories had served him well when he’d attempted to escape the maroons, and he’d been thankful for them.

Now he wishes he hadn’t ever told the crew of the Walrus about his ability to survive.

He knows he’s never going to be able to find the cache. He knows that, at least. There are too many places Flint could have hidden it and as good as he is at surviving, hunting has never been his forte. 

He just hopes that maybe he can stay here long enough that John Silver will forget about him, as he wants the world to forget about Flint.

“And I’ve got a long fucking memory-”

The snap of a twig too heavy to be a deer makes him spin - and he almost loses his footing when he gets tangled in the foliage that snakes the ground. 

When he looks up, at first, Ben thinks he must be done for. Surely - 

“Ben?” Billy Bones lowers the knife. 

“What are you doing here?” 

It’s an all too familiar feeling - his life in Billy’s hands. Ben remembers the last time, being so sure he was dead in that water that smelled like burning powder and blood, only to somehow come out alive. 

- Or not at all -

“Mr. Silver sent me here to find the cache.” Billy’s mouth hardens and Ben wonders again if he’s about to meet his end at the hands of - well. 

“Sent you here to die, more like it.” 

As punishment.

“What do you mean?” 

“Flint’s the only one who know where it is, isn’t he?” Billy seems like he wants to say more, but instead he just shakes his head. “Nevermind. Come on. Might as well stick together.”

Ben wants to ask why. Why didn’t you shoot me? But he follows silently. He knows when not to tempt fate. Unsurprisingly, Billy has more than enough food to share. Ben had taught him when they were on Nassau and living between the town and the plantations how to trap. It had been hell trying to hide and not get caught and feed everyone and still somehow fight a fight he didn’t understand - but somehow it had felt less like hell than when he was alone in the cage, back on the maroon’s island.

He still has nightmares about that.

But right now, as they sit around the small fire Billy has started and wait for the rabbit to cook, it’s not that near death experience that’s weighing on his mind.

“Why didn’t you shoot me?” 

His voice is soft - in truth the words barely come out. Billy looks up from the spit.

“What?”

“In the water. When the Walrus sunk. Why didn’t you shoot me, too?”

Billy stares at him, and then back at the fire. Ben knows it isn’t, but it feels like an eternity before he speaks.

“Out of all of them. Every one of those men that I fought and bled alongside, not one of them would disobey him to help me. I propped him up, tried to help him get rid of Flint - what we all wanted - and in the end he betrayed me and took everyone with him. Except you.” 

The intensity of Billy’s gaze has always scared Ben, a little. He usually feels small and insignificant in the face of that intensity at the best of times but now, it feels different. Now he feels like the center of it and he feels almost too big for his own skin.

“You were the only one who cared if I lived when the Spanish raided Nassau. That meant something to me.” 

“It just wasn’t right.” 

It feels like an excuse for the real reason he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of Billy dying tied and beaten. The real reason he had - for possibly the first time in his life - stood up against something he thought was wrong. 

Now when he thinks about all that Silver has done to see his own ending be the one that gets told, he’s more terrified than ever of John Silver - even though he knows the truth and not the story. 

Even though he knows the truth he’s still terrified of the man who managed to weave such a convincing lie it stopped what had seemed like an unstoppable war, dead. Cold. That kind of power reminded him too much of the unshakeable and unquestionable authority the queen of the maroons had used to kill his shipmates - that his captain before that had used to keep them all in line. The kind of power he’s been subject to all his life. 

Ben has been running from power for so long but in that moment he had defied John Silver in freeing Billy. And somehow Silver had known and sent him here in a fruitless search for what it had cost him. 

That Ben would do it again if it meant saving Billy Bones’ life - that didn’t feel like powerlessness.

“It just wasn’t right.” He repeats.

Billy exhales, tilting his head in agreement. “Well.” Ben waits, but there isn’t more to the thought. The rabbit is done; cooked until the skin has just started to burn on the outside, and Ben’s mouth waters at the thought of food. When Billy pulls out a soggy but mostly intact chunk of cheese to slather over the meat, it seems almost an impossibly decadent feast. 

As they eat, Ben can see Billy thinking. Finally, “What happened?”

He looks up, confused.

“After they defeated Rogers. I assume if you’re here looking for the cache, Flint isn’t giving up the location to Silver.” 

It hits Ben, then - that Billy doesn’t know. Doesn’t know the truth or the lie and it’s in Ben’s hands, which he learns. He thinks back, to trust. To sparing Billy, and Billy sparing him in return. To powerlessness and power over a story. In another small act of defiance against John Silver, he tells Billy Bones the truth.

“The war’s over. Mr. Silver sent Flint to a plantation in Georgia. He’s there, I assume for good from what it sounded like.” Except he’s got - well...

Ben thinks about that too. Seeing the man he had come to fear second only to John Silver himself weeping openly, kissing the blond man who’d been in the field, there. Thomas Hamilton.

“You make sure that Flint sees Thomas Hamilton.”

Ben hadn’t understood that part of the instructions. Why this Hamilton was so important his presence would stop Flint from fleeing, in Silver’s mind. But then he thinks about what he had seen in that field, and about how John Silver is still on the island with the Maroons. With his Madi.

And Ben looks across the fire to Billy. 

“You’re telling me that Silver expects Flint to stay put - after he betrayed him and sold the Flint’s war out from under him, just because an old lover is there?” 

Ben shrugs. He hadn’t known Flint long enough to know, either way.

“He seemed certain of it. Told me to make sure Flint saw that Hamilton fellow and then come back here, for the treasure.”

“Without a map.”

“I did ask.” He’d asked only once - just before they’d reached Georgia. Asked Flint if he’d give up the location now that he was being given what he’d been promised. His end of the bargain.

Flint’s answer had been a puzzle Ben is still trying to figure out.

“Already?.”

It had seemed both cruel and sad, somehow, but Ben hadn’t gotten a chance to ask for clarification before Flint’s attention had been drawn completely elsewhere. 

“He’ll be back for it.” Billy’s voice interrupts his memory.

“Huh?” 

“Flint would never let something like this go.”

“Silver said he wouldn’t - couldn’t - be seen again. That he’d stay where Thomas Hamilton was.”

“Flint’s never cared about anyone enough to give up this war before. He’s addicted to getting something from it.” 

Billy seems so certain, but again the image of Flint - looking so wholly different than Ben had ever seen him, leaning against Thomas Hamilton - enters his mind.

“Well either way I’ll be here for years - trying to find the cache without a map.”

Billy looks over at him again, seems to be measuring something. What, Ben isn’t sure. 

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t look for it. You’re safe here. Silver won’t come back, not if he hasn’t already. Don’t look for it till I bring you the map.”

[writingforcuteppl]

At His Mercy

PAIRING: Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves x Reader

SUMMARY: Who would’ve thought that Ben uses his tentacles for everything, including fucking.

GENRE: Smut

WARNINGS: Tentacle fucking, degrading kink, praising kink, suffocation, chocking.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k words

“All at my mercy, how pathetic” Being restrained by Ben wasn’t something you expected to be enjoying so much. Your hands and legs were immobilized by two of his tentacles. Both of your clothes were long forgotten on the floor of the cold basement of the Sparrow Academy. “Always showing off, saying you’re stronger than me, better than me. But who's the one that has been whining like a pathetic little slut?” Another tentacle came out of Ben, holding one of your legs as the one that was restraining your legs grabbed the other, spreading your legs so Ben could see your glistening cunt. You were such a view. If he knew this was going to shut you up, he would’ve done it way sooner.

“Cat got your tongue, princess?” You felt one of his tentacles sliding up your spine, coiling around your neck, preventing your head from hanging, making you see him directly in his eyes. Ben could see desire and lust radiating through your body. He had spent so many nights, hand in his cock, thinking about you. How would you look naked, the sounds you would make, the look on your face. You may get on his nerves a lot, but that made him want you more. That didn’t mean he was going to go soft with you. For him, you were “a pain in the ass” most of the time, so he wanted to show who really was the best. Another tentacle went around one of your breasts, and the tip started to play with your nipple. You shuddered at the contact. Even with Ben being far from you, you felt intoxicated with him.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do to you” The tentacles all over your body tightened, making you moan, the pressure sending waves all over your body. “Oh, so you are enjoying this. What if I squeeze you harder…” the tentacles started to crush your whole body, making it harder and harder to breathe. You closed your eyes. This was too much, but he was right. You were enjoying this. The thought of him controlling your whole being, controlling if you stayed conscious or not, was more than thrilling. You felt a tentacle rubbing your clit, providing the pleasure you had been craving since Ben brought you down here. “So wet, and I haven’t even touched you. Well, no, properly,” he smirked. The tentacle went inside you agonizingly slowly, making you moan loudly, “So fucking tight. I wonder if you would feel this good around my cock” The thought of Ben fucking you properly made you clench around the tentacle.

This wasn’t what you thought sex with Ben was going to be. But you weren’t surprised. Ben used his tentacles at every opportunity he had, trying to control the things around him. And this was no exception. You were at his mercy and the only thing he wanted to control for so long. The pace of the tentacle was slow, providing you with the pleasure you needed but not what you wanted. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that the only thing on your mind is gonna be my name for the next week.” Even if you were enjoying the pleasure he was providing you now, you needed more, and the only way to get that was by provoking him.

“You are just words, Ben, like always” he got mad. You were in no position to talk.

“What the fuck did you just say whore?” The tentacle around your neck tightened. He was choking you. You knew you should’ve said something or at least tried to say something, but the feeling of suffocation was amazing. The pressure was enough for you to feel light-headed. Ben approached your frame. He grabbed your chin so you could see him directly in the eyes. “If I were you, I would keep my pretty mouth shut, or I will leave you here on the ground without doing anything. Got it?” You nodded. Ben stayed for a moment, looking at you. His eyes scanned your face trying to see if this was too much for you, but the only thing he could notice was your gaze looking at his lips. You wanted to kiss him so badly. The number of times you have gotten lost imagining how his lips would feel on yours were too much to count.

“Ben, please…” you said or well whispered. He knew what you wanted, but he was waiting for you to say it.

“Use your words” he started to caress your cheek, making it the first time he was sweet to you.

“Kiss me” When you least expected it, Ben’s lips were on yours. You sighed. This was perfect. The kiss was messy, as if years and years of bickering and sexual tension were being released at that moment. Ben’s hand went to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. You wanted to touch him so badly, but the tentacles prevented you from doing it. The tentacle that was still fucking you increased the pace, giving you more stimulation. You moaned in Ben’s mouth. The kiss stopped. You were about to complain when Ben started leaving wet kisses down your neck to your chest. He stopped at your breast, removing the tentacle that was around one of them. Ben started to suck one of your nipples, making you gasp. He knew what he was doing, rolling the bud on his tongue, causing your body to react to his ministrations. He switched from one nipple to another for some time until he decided it was enough.

He started to descend more on your body until he had your cunt in front of him. “So pretty…” you heard him whisper before you felt his tongue lick it. “God, you taste like heaven” he continued to lick and suck your clit. The sounds of his mouth, plus the lewd sounds of the tentacle fucking you, were the only thing that could be heard. You looked at his face. He was looking at you with desire. “Even if I want to eat you out for days until I leave you dry, I’m dying to feel you around me. So we’ll leave that for another day” Another day? So this wasn’t a one-time thing as you thought.

Thinking about Ben eating you out and fucking you more than once had you clenching around the tentacle. Ben stood up. You could see your juices all around his mouth. That was such a view, and you looked forward to seeing more. Ben gave you a quick kiss, making you taste yourself in the process. The tentacle that was fucking you got out, leaving you empty. The feeling didn’t last long since Ben easily slid into you. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel the difference. He grunted.

“You’ve already been fucked by one of my tentacles, and you are still so tight” Ben didn’t need to wait for you to adjust to him. He started to fuck you at a hectic pace. With each thrust, his breathing started to become more audible.

“Ben,” you moaned his name, making him go crazy. You sounded like an angel. His angel. Ben could feel you clench around his cock. Meaning one thing. You were close. “Come around my cock, princess,” a few more thrusts, and you came undone. His name comes out repetitively of you, like some kind of prayer. It took Ben a few more thrusts to come inside you. “Fuck” He didn’t even ask you for permission, like this, you will understand that now, you only belong to him and only him.

Tag List

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REQUESTS ARE OPEN

n a v i g a t i o n

[owen-wilson-appreciation-club]

I’ve had this in my drafts for several weeks. I don’t see anyone saying this, so I guess I should:

Owen Wilson didn’t become hot just because of the grey hair. He “became” hot because it was a role you guys finally took him seriously in.

Let me explain:

I’ve been seeing a lot of people on Tumblr saying “Oh my god! Didn’t see the Owen crush coming!”

What’s even worse, is that people, those same people, openly say “I hated him with blond hair but now? He’s so hot!”

Tastes are subjective. It’s completely fine if you prefer grey haired Owen to blond Owen. But saying he was ugly before (which mind you, he isn’t) is just plain rude.

If I came up to you and said “You looked better when (part of you) was different” you’d be upset, wouldn’t you? You’d be upset.

There is a reason Owen isn’t on social media, because of shit like this. It’s one thing to not be a fan of his work, but to say he’s bad, and then appreciate it only after Loki? Blasphemous.

Sure, he’s leaned more towards comedy films, and I agree he should go more into drama. But there will always be some bitch out there who demotes him no matter what he does.

Sure, some of his roles are more “childlike” and comedic, but that’s not an issue. That’s what he likes and he’s made a name for himself. But saying those roles can’t be taken seriously is actually pathetic. Saying he’s only good in one role is pathetic.

I created this blog purely as a joke. I thought, what the hell, since my other blog was shadowbanned, and Tumblr won’t unban it, no matter how many emails I send, I’ll make a whole blog to appreciation Owen, posting pictures, memes and reblogging content about him.

This blog became a hell of a lot more popular than I anticipated. I actually got asks for the first time on this blog. I’d never gotten an ask before. Crazy.

I don’t mind it. I actually really like spreading positivity about him. After seeing the absolute shit show that is Twitter, and the sylki stans calling him a dead beat dad, I’ve been more motivated than ever to keep this up.

I’ll never shame any of you for preferring Owen with grey hair. However, I will shame you for saying he is attractive only with grey hair. He is actually really talented, and honestly, really beautiful. Make jokes all you want about how much you want to get railed by him after the Esquire interview (myself included) but he really is pretty.

I request you watch his work in any Wes Anderson film. He’s able to show off his range there, and the films are really good as standalone films regardless of him being there.

The reason I say this is because he isn’t just some blond himbo who can be stupid with Vince Vaughn. He isn’t just some blond model with Ben Stiller. He has some excellent roles, and was even nominated for an academy award for his screenplay with Wes Anderson.

The fact that some of you place all his value purely in his looks and his personal life is absolutely disgusting. The fact that some of you see Owen as Mobius and nothing else is awful. The fact you put value on him in one role is rude.

I know I won’t get any benefits from posting this rant. I know that. I just get so frustrated seeing some of you say “Wow I thought he was ugly but daaamn that grey hair makes me wish he’d breed me.”

I’ll reiterate: If I told you you were ugly until you changed a part of yourself, and that I wouldn’t like you otherwise, you’d be upset too. So please, let’s keep it respectful across all platforms, yeah?

Another thing I’d like to mention: Why disclaim you finding Owen attractive?

I don’t see anyone disclaiming finding Tom Hiddleston attractive. Why is that?

Are you scared someone is going to judge you? On Tumblr?

So what if you think he’s hot? So what? The fact I even have to bring this up just annoys the hell out of me.

I’ll wrap this up:

To those of you who have been appreciating his work from before Loki:

Thank you.

To those of you who have been making gifs of him from his older films:

Thank you.

For those of you who share the opinion that he’s beautiful no matter what:

Thank you.

To those of you who just think he’s hot with grey hair and think he’s valuable only in the Loki series:

Go fuck yourself.

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

-

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[cheekygreenty]

In My Head - The Darkling x Reader

Supppeer angsty and kinda sad?

The fire engulfed the golden kefta in a water-like rhythm. The cracks and sparks echoed in the open field amongst the silence that settled around all of you. Alina was exhausted, Zoya was grieving, the Ketterdam criminals looked shaken too. But you were unmoving, as still as a painting and not showing a single emotion. They had all witnessed your heartbreak as it fell and crashed the world around you, breaking every part of you. They watched as realization flooded you that you never truly knew Aleksander. They watched as he tore your heart from your chest and threw it into the depths of the Fold to rot.

Painted a picture,

I thought I knew you well

It was humiliating. Alina had tried to warn you but you played her off as selfish and unwilling to use her powers for the good of all Grisha. You told her she was stupid and foolish for loving an otkazat'sya when in reality you were the fool for loving a man that didn't exist.

You told her she was crazy, that Aleksander would never lie to you and that he was good because you knew him. In truth, you were no better than him. You blindly followed everything he said, completely ignoring the alarm bells in your head. You had grown used to them as weeks went by, to the point of the alarm playing a low comforting tune in your mind all day and all night.

There weren't enough apologies in the world to say sorry for the things you'd done and said to Alina and she'd insisted that no apology was necessary because it wasn't your fault, 'It's not your fault you only see the good things about people' she whispered to you before she left to change. But the good things about him weren't there; they never existed. It was all in your head, a mind so desperate for love it concocted a whole new Aleksander, one which you loved so much and would do anything for.

I got a habit of seeing what isn't there

'We were all fooled Y/N, Don't blame it all on yourself' Despite her grieving and sorrow, Zoya's hand rested on your shoulder briefly as a sign of comfort. Without her, you wouldn't have been here right now, alive and breathing.

'I don't blame myself. I hate myself for being so blind'

'Me too'

I thought that you were the one

But it was all in my head

------

You could feel the nothingness of the Fold threading through your hair even inside Alina's tunnel of safety. You stared at her shackled feet, pushing the guilt away and replacing it with a sense of righteousness. There was nothing else that could be done to keep her in check, if she wanted to escape and hide from her destiny forever then she would do so over your dead body.

The Fold needed to be gone and if chaining her to the skiff was going to be the only way she obeyed then so be it. Your mind quickly spiraled back to her hasty words back in the tent. She was panicked and desperate, clinging to your arm like a wailing child begging to be heard. Her lies were bizarre and abundant, no doubt the works from her long journey to the Stag but they were unbelievable. So extreme even a Fjerdan would laugh at their ridiculousness.

The skiff suddenly stopped, Novokribirsk visible in the distance with lines of First-Army troops standing in neat lines.

'Why have we stopped?' A dignitary asked and you wondered the same thing. You searched the skiff for anyone with an explanation, but everyone looked equally as confused but Alina looked mortified. What is going on?

'One more demonstration. You’ve seen what the Sun Summoner can do' You whipped your head around to him slightly moving away but his arm pulled you back to his side with an edge. You heard the loud jangle of Alina's chains as she tried to move. 'Now bear witness to what I can do… with her power.'

He pushed you to Ivan, who took no time in holding you back by the arms, caging you in his grasp. You resisted on the simple basis that you didn't know why you were being restrained just like Alina but the answer came all too soon. There was no time to shout or gasp as Aleksander raised his own hands and the black shadows of the Fold expanded into Novokribirsk, killing everything in its path.

You stood motionless as the horrible sounds of volcra swarming and humans screaming flooded the air. Alina's words came back to you again but you didn't listen. No, you didn't want to. Zoya seemingly came down from the mainsail and looked at the black void in a hypnosis-like stare but nobody dared say anything. There was a silence on the skiff while hundreds and thousands of lives ceased to exist in a matter of seconds.

The comforting tune in your head had suddenly turned into a blinding screech, rendering you frozen and flabbergasted. He did this, Aleksander did this. How could he do this? You tried to fight the heartrenderer off, squirming desperately in his arms to cover your ears from the slaughtering sounds. Your knees had given out by now and Alina was on the floor of the skiff, struggling to get up due to the heavy and awkward chains. I put them there.

'Today, we redraw all the maps. With the power of the Sun Summoner at my command, I control the Fold.' A sob erupted from your throat right at the minute you realized Alina was right. You didn't listen, this is all my fault. Ivan pulled you back up, roughly smacking a hand over your mouth to stop your pathetic cried of betrayal. You fought a little harder, trashing around in hopes of escaping his hold or at least getting someone's attention but nobody seemed to care. They all feared for their lives.

'All countries will answer to us. For who would oppose us now?' He briefly shot a look in your direction but spared you no emotion. It was then that you saw the real Aleksander, blood-thirsty for power and revenge. The Black Heretic.

Everything you are made you

Everything you aren't

The next five minutes were a complete blur. You somehow found yourself fighting for your life and those around you. Your head was empty of its usual whirling thoughts as survival mode kicked in. Kill or be killed. You stopped counting how many hits you got or how many bruises were forming on your body. It was primal and in your Grisha nature to protect those around you, and in that haste of battle you made your allegiance to Alina obvious.

There was no time to think about Aleksander. You weren't quite sure you wanted to think about him. He was on this skiff with you, on the opposing side that just murdered a town full of people yet the part of your brain, your imagination, craved to be by his side. To please him by obeying, to get his touch in return. You were addicted to the man who had ruined your innocence.

'You betrayed me' His voice was right behind you as was his hand, creeping up the side of your throat and forcefully pushing you against the barrier of the skiff, ready to throw you over to the unlit Fold.

'I betrayed you?!' Your shout was loud and hearty, overflowing with sadness and shame at being relieved for being next to him again. You clawed at his tightening hand, feeling your airways restrict and your vision become fainter and fainter. You would die at the hands of the man you loved.

'Look what you made me do Y/N, do you think I want to kill you?' Your head bopped but your stupid heart grasped at the sadness in his words, he still loves me. 'I don't want to. I really don't'

'Then don't' you chocked out, your hold on his wrists becoming limp. You felt the ever-so familiar touch of his lips grace your temple and then he retreated.

The world went dark but your body hit the deck of the skiff, not the soft sands of the Fold and your lungs abruptly filled with forced Squaller air.

Yes, I did it to myself, yeah

Thought you were somebody else

'What are you going to do now?' You still sat by the fire while everyone stood. Zoya had left your side and was talking with Alina but you filtered out the noise. Your head was too full of your own self-hatred to stand any more voices so Jesper's question to you went unnoticed. 'Y/N?'

You looked at him and shrugged. You didn't want to move, your body still ached too much from being dragged away from the brink of death to make your way somewhere safe.

You would never admit it around anyone, but as Alina spoke of the Darkling being dead, a wave of grief washed over you. It was cold and unpleasant; unwelcome. But you knew love didn't disappear overnight. You didn't know who saved you on the skiff, whether it was he who had let you go, or was it Zoya who battled to have you freed from his grasp.

As much as you had created the Aleksander you viewed, the foundations were all him, you had only added on or omitted the parts you did and didn't like. You prayed it was him who spared you, you prayed there was something real about your Aleksander, that that was a foundation.

The tears that fell down your face in a stream were assumed to be for the betrayal and the horridness of what the Darkling had done to you and others, when if fact they were for him. You cried because you would never see him again, you cried because the people who had helped you get out of the Fold were the same people who had killed him.

-------

When Mal caught your deathly stare in his direction, he had to do a double-take. You had the same look in your eyes as the General did when he fought him in the Fold, that exact replica of coldness and rage; revenge. But surely he was wrong. You were happy to know the Heretic was dead. He betrayed you the most out of everyone here and almost killed you. Why would you be vengeful?

He waved it off with a shake, it's all in my head.

------

Masterlist

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl @rosiethefairy @partiesandblurrypolaroids @ashwarren32 @s1xthirty @toujurespure @misselsbells06

[angeloroki]

broken engagement. 2. — i. midoriya

— part one.

— character ; aged up!izuku midoriya x gn!reader

— genre ; angst

— warnings ; curses

— a/n ; part 2 bc you wanted it, but i never said it'd be fluffy :(

please let me know if there are any female pronouns (i'm doing it unintentionally sorry :/), i want to keep this writing as inclusive as possible!!

« hey.., it's me, again.

please call me back. i never wanted this. »

message deleted.

this was at least the 10th time you repeated the process. your ex-fiancé would leave you a voicemail, you'd listen to it all the way through, even though your friend advised you long ago to block him, and then you'd delete it, reluctantly.

maybe that's why he's been so insistent for the past month. the fact that you haven't blocked him or deleted him from your contacts could only give him hope.

and yet, you'd like to pick up the phone and tell him what an asshole he is. and that it was over, that you could never love him again, and even why not lie to him and tell him you were seeing someone else, and blah blah blah.

but it was all wrong.

you still loved him, even after crying for days.

" i don't know if my feelings for you are strong enough to satisfy you. "

he had made you believe for weeks that the fairy tale you were living with him was real. it was a change from the cheesy endings in disney movies. what a bastard.

you sighed to yourself, gazing at the engagement ring that lay far away on the bedside table.

it gleamed in the moonlight, beautiful, representing the love izuku had for you. now it was just the bearer of the bitter words he had spat in your face.

you looked away.

« y/n hun, i'm going to a friend's house. it's my date i've been telling you about for two weeks now, i hope he's worth it or else you'll hear me complaining, she says in a weary voice. i left the dish in the fridge for you, and please don't resume your series on my netflix account, it's too boring to know where i left off. » your friend shouts from the front door.

you smile slightly.

« i'll try, but i can't promise anything. »

« hahaha, no but for real, i'm serious. anyway, see you later honey, and wish me luck. »

it's been a month since you moved in with your friend, she insisted that you stay with her until you find another apartment. and she was a good cook, so how could you refuse ?

you sat down in front of the tv, and resumed the series you had started. a pathetic love story, the married boy who falls in love with a woman who is pregnant, even though she is a virgin?

you rolled your eyes before turning off the tv. everything was about him, when you're on social media and you see a couple of friends already married, or when a jewelry commercial would be airing right when you turn on the tv, and of course the dates that are coming up on your best friend's side.

it's as if fate didn't want you to forget him.

you were going to have a piece of cake, and you were going to start a horror movie. just to chase away that too sad cloud over your head.

of course, your new roommate had finished the raspberry bush, and so it was her fault that you found yourself at 11pm, in the 24 hour supermarket, in front of an old shop window wondering if ice cream was better after all.

with a Ben & Jerry's in hand, you headed to the cash register to pay and quickly return to your blanket cave.

« ouch ! » you exclaimed.

you had just bumped into someone, who was strangely tall by the way. you were about to apologize and ignore the stranger, when his scent shocked you. it couldn't be possible ? he couldn't be standing in front of you, at 11 pm, in a supermarket, and especially more than 25 kilometers away from your old apartment. argh. obviously this is the only store in town that sells his favorite snacks.

« y/n... »

you finally dared to meet his eyes. he hadn't changed, no wonder, it had only been a month since you left, but you expected something huge when you saw him again. his well-shaped jaw made you want to cover it with kisses. no, stop, y/n. but he smelled so good. " i don't even know if i want to get married ! " that truth echoed in your head. fuck, you had almost forgotten that he had broken up with you.

« what ? » your voice was as hard as a rock.

without giving him time to answer, like last time, you left him hanging and headed for the exit. never mind the ice cream, you'll come and buy it another time.

« what do you mean what ? i've been trying to call you for a month. »

he followed you, leaving his groceries behind too. a breath came from your lips, forming a small cloud of coolness in front of you.

the situation was so cliché that a dry little laugh escaped from you.

« how strange ? i've been ignoring you for a month now. » you said with sarcasm in your voice.

he took your hand gently and suddenly at the same time.

« stop this, and let me explain. »

you felt the melancholy in his voice, his expression camouflaged by a big scarf couldn't hide all the tears he had already started to cry. you just wanted to hold him, to tell him that you were going to get through this together.

you repressed the urge.

no, he was being unfair to you and your feelings. so he didn't deserve your pity.

you disengaged yourself from his grip, and it was with some regret that you saw that he did not try to hold you.

« there's nothing to explain, midoriya. i was stupid not to see that you didn't love me as much. or that i loved you too much. so please let it go. »

« how can you ask me to let go of the love of my life ? stop being so sutpid. »

your eyes widened. did you hear right ?

« i beg your pardon ? was it me who said I didn't want to get married anymore ? was it me who rejected her fiancé for months for absolutely no reason ? was it me who broke your fucking heart when i was patient, and patient ? so don't talk to me about the "love of my life". »

he didn't answer, and a long silence fell between you. you had to bite your lip to keep your tears where they were, in the corner of your eyes. he just needed to say a word, a phrase or even a fucking onomatopoeia to make you stay.

the absence of an answer made you smile sadly.

« midoriya please forget about me. »

« you still have it? the engagement ring, i mean. »

you felt your throat tighten. no need to lie.

"indeed, yes."

a faint smile settled on his face, reddened by the cold. silently, you slipped your hands into your pockets. he was cute that way.

« ...miss your cooking, too. » he said half amused, half saddened.

your exhausted laughter echoed in the street.

« izuku, don't make it worse for yourself. » you said in a tired voice.

the fact that you called him by his first name brought the stars back into his eyes. your tongue came to moisten your lips, you wanted to feel his against yours. just once, before you went home. because you knew that your story wasn't a fairy tale. that even though you loved him madly, and maybe he loved you too, his sweet words couldn't erase the obnoxious behavior and insensitive words he'd thrown at you for weeks.

and most importantly -

a sweet warmth invaded your body, and his scent filled your nostrils. his lips against yours, you could only respond to his ardor. you melted under his caresses that flooded around your waist. your hands met his collar, and you drew him to you. deepening your passionate kiss, the air quickly ran out.

you abruptly pulled away from him. a look of bewilderment painted both your faces. it was unexpected.

« y/n, please... »

« i'll give you the ring back, but it's over. thanks for the kiss. »

yeah, thank you for the kiss izuku, it was a beautiful bitter farewell.

tagging ; @holykvn @iluvvhewer @0lissa0 @animesuck3r @dekusassistant @cyjstars @softbkg @bobbatea-and-hotchocolate @vegaolive @awizuku @maltese-sparrow @erens-s1ut @djmbgbeast @yyuuna @iliketobullydeku @tecna09 @sxmmio-o @lotusxcos @superblyspeedydragon @taceticbitch @joonie-centric @mishe-qm @ab456123cd @pluviophilefangirl @number1cokewhore @stans-nami @ravngers@quillvinrune

[tennessoui]

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.