Does William know you better than anyone else? Do you have faith that he loves you?
"Yes, he does. William has become very privy to almost every little secret that I carry, and yet I can't possibly hope for him to know every dark corner of my being in one lifetime. There's simply not enough time in one human life for it to happen, but... I have told him of what I feel is necessary, not to mention only fair, for him to know.
I wanted him to know that an inhuman being had come to love him, that I'll never truly be able to understand or appreciate things as he does, the same as I expect that he'll never truly be able to view the world as I do. I wish things could be different, so that we could be on level ground with one another, but despite all of my faults and... flaws, you might call them, he still chose to have me.
William sees me as no other does, and sometimes I hate it, because I know I'll be destroyed when he's gone. Some days I wish he would change his mind, abandon me and leave me in the dust, simply to save myself the heartache that I know is waiting with every breath he takes. I don't fear him not loving me, I fear the torment that will come from his having loved me when he passes."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
where do I ever START with this you have no idea what you’ve unleashed
Joe would definitely be a “rogue gunslinger” as far as the news was concerned, just kind of an outlaw that went to the beat of his own drum. Even other outlaws are wary of him, because unlike a vast majority of gunslingers that group together or have a small posse to call their own, Joe goes it alone every single time.
There’s never really been rhyme or reason to his killings, according to those that write about him, but if one actually encountered him and was able to ask, he’d say he’s killing the worst people before they have a chance to really unleash it. He’s rumoured to have been cursed by the Devil, and have him in his shadow at all times, which may not be too far from the truth. He keeps to himself as much as possible, because he’s trying to atone for sins which no one knows of by killing ne’er-do-wells. Of course, to the public eye, this just looks like senseless and mindless murder, which is easily plastered around the country.
He lives in a secluded valley deep in a mountain range, a quaint little home surrounded by a huge pasture with cows, horses, sheep, you name it. While it’s not exactly his desire to be in the situation of taking care of these animals and being self sufficient, it’s easier than going to town to get supplies he needs.
This song is a huge inspiration for my thoughts on this au tbh gjkdsljg
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
hi my name’s ruggy and this is the product of 6 real time years of the longest fucking slowburn ship i have ever done in my life @ironclawed
“William, William look at me—God, please, don't leave me... you'll be okay, just hang on, you'll be okay...”
A blood soaked hand shakily reaches up, pressing to Joe's face as tears trickle down his cheeks, and a gloved hand quickly wraps around it, leaning into the touch. There's blood, so much damn blood, and William can only cough up more as his body begins to fail him. The action has Joe holding him tighter, breath trembling.
“Please don't leave me alone..”
---
“Come with me.”
“To France?” The tone is skeptical, unintentionally; it's more shock than anything.
“Oui, why not? We are no longer needed here, and you never had the allegiances to the Assassins as I did, anyway.” William had given it a lot of thought, and still Joe was stunned.
He had never given any thought to doing anything other than filling contracts, working alongside William, and occasionally being able to simply relax with the Huntsman. Their relationship had blossomed, and a decade had passed since they had begun to work together. America's freedom had been won, and while the Assassins had continued fighting long after the Revolution had ended, the days of needing to keep that peace so vigilantly were dwindling. Many others had gone their own ways, according to William, and Joe had certainly taken notice. But he was a mercenary they contracted, so it had never really felt like his business to know, or care.
Except he did, because of the Huntsman.
---
The next week saw them boarding a ship, Joe lingering on the gangplank. A reassuring touch to his arm draws him out of his hesitation, and William offers him a smile that reminds the Night Stalker of why he fell so hard for William in the first place. The journey is long, and Joe can't exactly say he's fond of it; he'd forgotten how much he hated ships. But the journey is different from when he first came to America; he has William with him.
While they had gotten their own cabins (it was nice to have money, for these little luxuries), Joe often sneaks into William's and shares the small bunk with the Frenchman, the night more often than not finding the room filling with the rustling of blankets, stifled moans and soft gasps. Hands grip at anything they can, clawing at a back, the sheets, tangling in hair and curling around other hands for dear life, and by the time morning fills the room, it's to warm the exhausted bodies that cling to each other, arms wrapped around each other.
Disembarking is a strange experience; Joe watches William quietly as they step onto the busy port, and he gets the sense that William is conflicted. France was his home, yet he'd spent a good bit of his life away from it, while also having essentially forsaken his family lineage in favour of loving a man. That last bit of the thought is banished quickly from Joe's mind, before he can think it over too much, and nudges his lover lightly.
“We should find a place to stay, unless you...already had somewhere in mind?” He offers quietly, trying to bring William out of his own thoughts. He doubted returning to the de Saint-Prix estate was an option.
“Yes, you're right. My family has a small villa that we used to stay in during the summer, mostly for my Assassin training,” William sounds thoughtful, yet still very distant. Joe watches him for a few heartbeats, before flagging down a carriage, and letting William fall into his natural state when the driver speaks French. Joe spends most of the trip peering out the window, simply watching the streets turn into countryside, when William speaks up to thank the driver.
It wasn't that he didn't know French; he just didn't feel comfortable speaking it, because he knew he had no accent. William had been far too aware of this; he'd tried not to laugh the few times Joe had tried to be romantic and say some loving affectation in French, only to gently correct the Night Stalker, and instead fluster him. But the meaning behind those attempts were what meant the most to William.
The villa is larger than anything Joe was used to, and for the first few weeks, he struggles to settle in. “There's too many damn rooms, what the hell do you need all this space for?!” The shout echoes, and William has to stifle his laugh, watching the taller man move from room to room in frustration.
“You left your coat upstairs, in the third room on the left.”
“I hate you.”
That finally draws a laugh from William, Joe disappearing up the stairs and shouting his annoyance once he finds the aforementioned room.
---
“I thought you said you were done with the Assassins,” Joe frowns, watching as William unfolds a fancy letter one night, the fire flickering brightly and warming the room. It was October, and they'd lived together for four months, every bit the married couple that they wanted to be, yet knew they publicly couldn't be.
“It is not simply an occasional hobby I can choose to pick up or put down, Joe, I have an obligation to the Parisian Brotherhood as much as I did the American Brotherhood. It was they who sent me to the colonies, in the first place,” William replies curtly, despite knowing it would only draw Joe's ire. And indeed, he feels the glare, but cannot feel the concern Joe does.
“Why should they need you?”
“Joe--”
“You already fought through one revolution, why is this one your problem?!” Joe's voice wavers, and he sits down, rubbing his hands over his face. William waits for him to calm down before answering.
“Joe, America's revolution was not my fight. I am not American, yet I still aided when I was needed. France is my home, and I feel a responsibility to see this one through.” He decides not to mention that he's not particularly thrilled at being called back to duty, either, but the way Joe sags in the chair pains him.
“Then let me fight beside you. It's not my fight, but I want to be with you.”
“Non.”
“William!”
“I do not think you understand, Joe, customs here are vastly different from what you're used to! I am still looked at as part of a noble family, and expected to marry and have children, or at the very least have children. These are not things I can do, being with you, and I am more than okay with that. I've made my peace about it, but American customs do not have noble families arranging marriages for one another. I still have an image to uphold, despite having been gone for so long.”
Joe stills, feeling like a red-hot dagger had pierced his heart, and William's expression changes in a flash when he realises what he'd said. “Joe, that's not what I meant--”
“I know.” It hurts, but he knows William would have never tried to hurt him. He knows that William is still expected to keep a clean reputation for his family name, but he can't stop the sting of knowing that he'd ruined William's life. It felt like that night on the docks all those months ago, when he'd had doubts. He was free to love William as much as he desired, because he had no family, had no title, nothing to uphold. But William was risking everything simply by keeping Joe as company. He could never acknowledge their relationship publicly, and they could never be more than simply partners in various terms of the word.
William gets up, kneeling in front of Joe's chair and taking his hands into his own, meeting Joe's gaze. “Do not ever doubt my affections for you, Joe. They have never wavered, I have never regretted my decision to love you, and nor will I ever. But I think you sometimes forget that we come from two vastly different worlds, and need to be reminded.”
Silence lingers on Joe's end for a long while, and William's afraid that he's already broken their relationship irreparably, before the Night Stalker speaks. “I know.” It's not reassuring, but Joe leans down to kiss him softly, a kiss William happily reciprocates. Joe presses their foreheads together, sighing softly against his lips. “I wish things could be different for us.”
---
William's work for the Parisian Assassins leaves Joe to his own devices most nights, and while they come to an agreement that Joe can tag along, he also has to remain some distance back. He becomes like William's shadow, and while it's difficult and unnatural at first, they fall into a rhythm that works.
A small box waits for William when he returns home, two years into their living in France, and William picks it up in confusion, opening it slowly. A simple gold band sits inside, and Joe watches with his breath held as William picks it up, unable to fathom the implication.
At first, Joe's afraid he hates it. He opens his mouth to try and justify the decision, before William slips the ring onto a small chain, fastening the chain around his neck. He closes a hand around the ring, Joe closing his mouth as he does, and he doesn't remember a time when William looked so full of varying emotion, all positive. His own ring rested around his finger, yet another instance of him knowing that he could get away with wearing it in public, but also knowing that it would remain hidden whenever he needed it to, simply because of the fact he wore gloves and William did not.
Later that night, William curls into his side as Joe wraps his arms around the Huntsman, before William holds the ring again, closing his eyes happily. “It will always be close to my heart, just as you are, mon ami.”
“God, you're disgustingly sappy.”
“Says the one who bought us wedding rings.”
“I'm trying to catch up to your sappiness, there's a difference.”
William chuckles, Joe kissing his head before pulling the blankets closer, closing his eyes. The next two years are blissful with the weight of the rings on their bodies, and for all the world, they truly do feel united.
---
Nothing is unusual until William leaves for his contract mission one night, a simple recon. Joe tagged along, hovering nearby as they crouch on a rooftop, chatting idly to pass the time. It's spring, and the crowds take longer to die out as the cold of winter is chased away, leaving them plenty of time to simply relax.
Two hours pass until William reacts, and Joe lingers, staying back a rooftop. It's only when he sees a glint in the corner of his eye that he realises someone had anticipated William's arrival, and he turns a moment too late, the gun firing. The bullet whizzes by him and finds its target, and time feels like it's slowing as Joe turns back to see William recoil, hand clutching at the entry wound. He stumbles a few steps, body crumpling and causing him to fall from the rooftop, the sight drawing a horrified shout from Joe.
He races forward, disregarding his own safety as he drops from the rooftop, knees falling to the ground beside William's body. His hands tremble, afraid of touching William but resolving to pull him up gingerly, cradling him as William gasps for air. There's no exit wound, and the dark stains that grow steadily across William's chest, coupled with the faint rattling every time he breathes, tells Joe exactly what he doesn't want to know. His lung had been punctured, and the bullet was still lodged in his chest.
His scarf is yanked down, hanging loosely beneath his chin as a shaking hand presses lightly over the wound, as if that could stifle the flow of blood. His eyes begin to sting, and it takes Joe a moment to realise that tears are burning them, escaping down his face and plipping onto the ground.
“Stay with me, just hold on... I'll get you to a doctor, they'll fix you up.” He knows it's a lie, but he can't bear to think about the painful reality. William, on the other hand, has already accepted his fate. Blood trickles from his mouth, and Joe lets out a weak sob, shaking his head. “Don't do this, please hold on...”
“I'm glad... we had the time together...that we did. Being with you was... the best thing that ever happened,” William struggles to speak, but he forces himself to get the words out, and Joe only lets out another sob.
“William, William look at me—God, please, don't leave me... you'll be okay, just hang on, you'll be okay...”
A blood soaked hand shakily reaches up, pressing to Joe's face as tears trickle down his cheeks, and a gloved hand quickly wraps around it, leaning into the touch. There's blood, so much damn blood, and William can only cough up more as his body begins to fail him. The action has Joe holding him tighter, breath trembling.
“Please don't leave me alone..”
William's hand falls from his cheek the second Joe's own hand releases it, and shock freezes the Night Stalker to the core, eyes widening. It takes a few moments for him to register the Huntsman's still form, hand pressing to his chest and frantically searching for the thump of a heart beat, finding nothing.
“William. William, wake up. Don't you fucking do this to me, open your eyes, you fucking bastard..!” His voice breaks, tears dripping onto the man's face as Joe sobs, curling over William's body. His sobs turn to mournful screams, the night echoing with his agony, and when the sun rises, it looks for all the world like he'd become a corpse as well, holding onto his lover's body tightly when his sobs had finally fallen silent.
"Darling," the term is said almost entirely seriously, with the slightest lilt of teasing at the end, "have you noticed that your name keeps popping up in the New York papers more and more? I'm almost non existent now. This is an absolute crime."
The sound of paper rustles as Joe turns the page, uncharacteristically underdressed. His coat was beneath him as he lay on the rooftop, one leg resting atop the other's knee, and his shirt was unbuttoned two buttons down from his neck, revealing the thin tunic that rested beneath his layers. It was early evening, and still warm, giving a lazy air to their reconnaissance stakeout.
