#ben tallmadge one shot

[amberlynnmurdock]

Captured

Pairing: Ben Tallmadge x Reader 

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, violence 

Summary: Ben thinks keeping your relationship a secret will protect you from danger until a red coat appears on camp. 

A/N: Gamble slightly might be a little out of character compared to the show. I was using how Captain Randall is portrayed in Outlander as guidance. I like to think if Starz had produced Turn, we might've seen more violence and cursing in the show, so I applied that to this fic, if that makes sense? Hopefully you all forgive me <3This was going to be my initial submission for the Valen-TURN's event but I didn't finish in time! 

WARNINGS: Kicking, slapping, violence, inappropriate language, cursing.

Archive of Our Own Link 

Six Months Earlier

It was one of those sunny afternoons where the sun always caught your eye no matter what angle you stood from.

You moved your eyes to the back of the horse you rode on to avoid the sun from hurting them, and doing so caused concern for the man who rode on the horse beside you.

“Benny’s going to be happy to see ya,” Caleb Brewster gave you a knowing smile. “It’s been a while since he’s wanted ya to come to the camp. Safer. Can keep an eye on ya.”

You scoffed in spite of yourself. He wanted to keep an eye on you, but from a distance. You looked up to meet Caleb’s playful eyes, which were just barely hidden under the rim of his hat. The horses trotted along. You heard the sound of leaves crunching under their hooves. A cold breeze passed and you shivered.

“I’m a little nervous,” you say honestly, “it’s been so long since I’ve seen him. I’m not sure he still—“

“Quit it,” Caleb interrupts, “you’ll be staying in the quarters in the main camp, but just on the border of where the followers stay. That was the best Ben could do, so as to not be suspicious. Near Anna, too, ya know. Washington's aware of your arrival and approved your location to be so close.”

“Washington,” you repeat to yourself. “It hardly feels like a reunion if Ben and I can’t even stay in the same place together.”

“It’s more than that, __, and you know it. Unfortunately, some of the men in the camp cannot be trusted, and we don’t even know who is who. Ben can’t risk those people finding out about you and him,” Caleb states matter of factly, but you know he quotes Ben’s words because he has said the same to you. “It’s not like how it used to be.” And Caleb was right. The stakes were higher than ever for the cause.

You’ll never forget the first time you saw. He was handsome as ever, for sure, but the sight of him in uniform made the war all too real. And you worried about his life being in danger.

“Then why not just put me far in the camp hidden in a tent where I’m out of sight?” The question comes out more in anger than it does reasonably.

“Don’t be like that, __. Ben needs to have you in his sights, close enough, but far enough to not give anything away.”

Your face softened. Perhaps you were being too harsh. After all, there was a war going on, and Ben was one of the most important men on the rebels' side. Which meant, he had big enemies. Maybe you were too worried about what could happen to you both when you should be focusing on the situation at hand: you were finally going to see Ben.

~~~~

Present

It was moments like this you wished you could transport yourself into a memory and stay there forever.

You never realized how peaceful the sound of a river current could be until now, too, with your hands tied behind your back tightly with rope, mouth covered by cloth. Lieutenant Gamble was tending to the horse he stole from the camp, but you knew this break from the interrogation would be short-lived. You leaned your head back on the tree you sat against, trying not to squirm against the rough and dry rope. Any slight movement stung your wrists. Your skin began to burn and cut against the rope.

You couldn’t remember quite exactly what Ben said when a red coat soldier appeared on the camp out of nowhere, but you knew now that whatever Gamble told Ben, was a lie.

The questions, the abuse, the threats… you felt as if you were half dreaming. You wanted to give out. You wanted to just let Gamble kill you right then and there because there was no way you were going to give him what he wanted.

One part of this experience felt like a nightmare, and the other felt like bliss. At least, your mind was in another place. Another reality. No, your physical body was shaking against the tree Gamble propped you on, but your mind and thoughts were elsewhere. Images flashed in your mind as you let the sound of the river current drown out Gamble’s movements. Your eyes began to flutter.

Fresh dew-covered grass. A soft, golden sunrise. Horses. A warm breeze. And a tall man, draped in blue and silver, walking towards you, a hand reaching out. Golden brown hair reflects the sunlight and deep blue eyes meet yours. The same blue eyes that never failed to make you feel safe, that say I’ve got you without uttering a sound. For a moment, it’s bliss, because you see Ben before you and a warm rush spreads throughout your chest.

You do think you are dreaming now.  

Ben’s image is gone immediately—taken from you like a toy snatched from a child’s grasp. Gamble’s heavy and dirty hand meets the side of your face with such force you fall to your side again, the nightmare taking over. Only the nightmare is actually your reality.

You keep your eyes closed, imagining Ben’s blue coat, his blue eyes, and his golden brown hair falling so perfectly around his face when it’s not tied back. You hear his words in your mind:

I will protect you. I will protect you.

You had no idea if Ben knew you were taken, though this late in the night, it was likely.

“I’m not going to ask nicely again,” Gamble snarls and grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his dark eyes.

“Who are the spies that Tallmadge has set up in York City, and Long Island?” He points to a stack of books behind him, near where the fire was. You vaguely recognized them from Mr. Sackett’s tent. Your heart dropped to your stomach at the sight of them.

You looked up weakly, flinching at how close his face was to yours. You could smell the rum from his breath. You shook your head in fear, fear for your life, fear you’ll never be able to make a joke with Caleb again, or laugh with Anna, or hold Thomas, or see the one true love of your life, Ben, ever again. And if that was your fate, as you felt was 80% certain right now, you wouldn’t die selling out your friends, and your country.

“I don’t know. I swear,” you pleaded weakly, shivering at the dropping temperature. You were only in your shift when Gamble kidnapped you. “I don’t talk to Tallmadge like that,” you lied. “I just help around the camp! I do laundry and barter! I swear!” You were desperately wishing he would somehow let you go, but at this point, there was no going back. You were captured.

Gamble scoffed. He spits on the ground. His ginger hair looked red in the glow of the fire. His green eyes reminded you of a snake. He had stubble on his face. You tried to look away but his dirty hands forced you to face him again. Your heart was beating fast in your chest and you felt yourself begin to panic. Any last bit of hope you had to be saved was now fully diminished, the darker it got.

“You’re telling me Tallmadge gets you into his bed every night, fucks you like the whore you are, but he keeps his work to himself? Ay miss, either you’re dumber than I thought or Tallmadge is only using you to keep his bed warm at night and his pipe hard,” Gamble hissed in a low voice, “I didn’t capture the one weakness I know Tallmadge has just for her to not speak.”

A million possibilities are floating through your mind. How could he know about you and Ben? Did he overhear something? Did someone say something? Was it that obvious? Gamble was held hostage—you didn’t even see him until he barged into your tent and took you.

“So you planned this ambush on me just so you could get some sort of information out of me,” you say out of breath, shaking your head. “Why not capture Tallmadge himself? What am I to you?”

Gamble kneels back. The fire crackles. He squints and licks his lips. You’re anticipating his next moves, but it’s useless. You are a prisoner. His. You have no way of getting out and there’s no way Ben can save you. It’s over, as far as you’re concerned.

“I’m going after his heart to get to him. To surrender,” Gamble simply says. “But how it’s been almost a day already and he’s not here, you must mean nothing to him. That’s the only thing I’m wrong about.”

You shut your eyes tight—it’s not true what he says. It’s not. You know he’s trying to make you have a reason to give in. You shake your head and meet his eyes, an act of defiance—foolish perhaps, but you dind’t care.

“You’re wrong if you think that by the end of this, you’ll be the one alive,” you said in a low voice.

Gamble lunged towards you and roughly placed his hands around your jaw. His movements were sloppy and aggressive, likely from the rum he’s been drinking. You shrieked and sank lower toward the ground as if that would protect you in some way.

For a moment, he holds you there, staring into your eyes. He can see the fear. Feel it against his fingertips. He looks away, and when he looks back, it’s not rage you see in him, but a different hunger.

He walks slowly to the horse and where Mr. Sackett’s stolen documents are in a briefcase. You watch as Gamble flips through the pages for a few minutes until he stops at one page in particular.

And slowly, the realization hits.

Of course, he found the letter you were writing with Mr. Sackett to give to Ben. You had grown a surprisingly close kinship with Mr. Sackett, and he respected your ideas in writing. It was a silly project you and he were working on—writing a love letter to Ben completely in his own code. It was a fun idea the two of you came up with one day; something to lighten the mood for Ben. Now, the whole thing was ruined, and you choked on your tears when you remembered Mr. Sackett was no longer here to help you finish it. Twisting the knife.

You sobbed, turning away from Gamble’s harsh glare.

“You can’t lie to me, miss,” Gamble growled, holding the letter up in one hand. “I will get the truth out of you.”

~~~~

The Night Before the Kidnapping

You lay on your cot with your hands tucked on the side of your face, staring at the candle on the bedside table. You could hear soldiers outside, drunk and dancing, surely up way past bedtime, but you figured there were no rules here after dark, as long as the men showed up early for their orders.

The soft glow of the candle is the only light in your tent. You can’t sleep. You’re mesmerized by the flick of the flame, hoping that if you stare at it long enough, you’ll fall asleep. You’ve had no such luck yet.

You shiver and pull the wool blanket over your shoulders tighter. The winters in New Jersey were brutal. You found yourself longing for it to be summer—sweltering hot with cool summer nights. You hoped by summer that by some chance the war would be over and the rebels claim their victory, and you and Ben wouldn’t have to keep this a secret anymore.

“Hey,” a voice calls from your tent opening. You shoot up in bed in a panic, reaching for the dagger under your pillow. When you see the familiar silhouette in only a white shirt and white pants, you lowered your fist.

“Ben!” You shout-whisper. “You scared me half to death.” You slipped the dagger back under your pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says sheepishly with a soft grin. He walks over to you and sits on the edge of your bed. His hair is loose, falling just above his shoulders. He looks tired, and you wonder why he’s come to visit you so late.

“Are you alright?” You ask him.

He nods his head a little and looks at you with a thoughtful expression. The candlelight reflects off his face perfectly. Half of his face is in the light, the other half dark. The light makes him look vulnerable, somehow. You’re used to seeing him so poised, so in control. Tonight, he just looks like Ben. The one you knew before he wore blue and silver.

“I wanted to come to check on you,” Ben tells you. He looks around your tent thoughtfully. “To makes sure no soldiers wandered over here. And now that we’ve got two prisoners on site, everyone is riled up. I wish this tent had more security.”

“I don’t think anyone would dare come to my tent knowing thee Major Tallmadge’s tent is right down the path,” you smirked. Ben let out a soft laugh.

“It makes me feel better to see you in bed safe.”

“I’d rather much be in yours,” you tell him, reaching up and twirling a piece of his hair before you place the palm of your hand on his cheek. He closes his eyes and turns into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and holds you for a moment.

“I know,” he says lowering your hand to his right thigh, “eventually.” The way he said the last word with caution annoyed you a bit—like he was just saying it to keep you strung along.

“Eventually,” you repeat, taking your hand away from him. He looks at you like you’ve just snatched a prized possession from him, concern immediately filling his blue eyes. To be a soldier was to be reactive, and sometimes you hated how much of an effect you had on Ben. He was so quick to your emotions—and normally you appreciated it, but other times, like tonight, you wish he would stop pretending he didn’t know the reason why you got upset when you’d bring up your…situation.

His concern about something he could easily fix was getting under your skin.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asks, furrowing his brows.

“What’s wrong is, every time you ask me that question, I give you the same answer, and you still ask me the same God-forsaken question thinking I’ll give you a different answer,” you say, exasperated. “Sometimes it just feels like you’d rather it be this way.”

Ben turns more so he’s facing you. Worry is etched all over his face, and confusion. His blue eyes grew wider and he parted his lips. He had a disoriented look on his face, completely surprised by where the conversation was going.  

“I—you think I want this? To pretend that I barely know you, that I don’t love you and would lay down my life for you? I don’t want this. I keep you here to protect you. Protect you from the enemy, whether it be in this camp or out there. I told you I will always protect you no matter what that may mean,” Ben pleads, grabbing your hands and kissing your knuckles. “Sometimes, we have to make sacrifices we don’t like to make sure everything goes to plan,” Ben, trying to reason with you, tried to touch your hands but you jerked away from him to his affliction.

“And am I just another player in your plan?” You ask quietly, doubtful as you look at your hands. You feel a rage grow in your chest, perhaps one you’ve been burying deep inside for too long, and it’s moments like this you can’t help but unleash it.

“I don’t know what you say to other people, other women when you are out there in Philadelphia and… and York City. I don't know. You have no problem being out in public with the socialites of those cities, with them at your arm, at a dance, but with me, I have to be tucked away in a tent at the bottom of the map!”

“That’s not—”

“It’s true, isn’t it? You have to play the part with them but what part do you play with me? Am I another piece in your chess game? You tell lies to everybody, how do I know you're not telling lies to me?”

“Because—I love you! Christ, __, what have I done to make you think otherwise? Do you think I want this for you, for us? You believe I want to have you in this tent away from me not in my arms every night? You think I don’t wish to have you on my arm when I have to go to those parties?” Ben could feel his heart pounding against his chest, anxious he upset you in some way, and hurt by your reaction to all this.

“Parties that I am obliged to attend, might I add, to ensure the protection of His Excellency. Do you think it’s easy for me to make these decisions, or that I even want to?” Ben stood up from your bed now, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

You pressed your lips together and closed your eyes, knowing you’d unleashed a tidal wave of emotion from the both of you, and there was no stopping it. It was your fault. Your eyes felt heavy with tears—Ben needed to leave you be.

Ben cursed to himself, rubbing his hand on his jaw like he always did when he was frustrated and things weren’t going his way—when things were out of his control. Ben was doing all he could, and still, all he could wasn’t enough.

Ben turns around to see you wiping your tears away. He sighs deeply. Arguing with you wasn’t worth it. He whispers your name.

“You have to understand—I do this to protect you—“

“I don’t need your protection tonight,” you cut him off, meeting his glassy blue eyes. “I need sleep.”

As painful as it was to leave you like this, it was clear you didn’t want him around right now. Ben took one last look at you as you got under the covers and closed your eyes.

He left—but not before tying an extra knot on your tent.

~~~~

The next afternoon

If there is one thing anyone should know about Ben, it’s that he is always in control of everything he promises. He is Washington’s eyes and ears. He ensures the safety of messages being passed between the Culper Ring. Ben takes care of everything that is assigned to him, and the satisfaction of a plan going accordingly is what keeps him sane.

But this. This was not supposed to happen.

At first, Ben was in disbelief. And then the cold wave of reality hit him so hard in the face, he couldn’t help but feel nauseated at the sight of your empty bed.

After he found Mr. Sackett with his throat cut open, Ben thought it best to make sure you were secure in your tent and to stay there until the perimeters of the camp were searched. It would be hard to break the news to you, but the sooner you knew, the better.

As he rushed down the path toward your tent, Ben had an odd feeling grow in his chest. But for what? He knew there was no way you had even left your tent yet because your shift at the cart didn’t start for another hour, and any doubt that ever crossed his mind was quickly put to rest because Ben was good at planning, and there was no need to worry. He would never let anything happen to you and his plans would never cause you to be in such a situation.

But still—there was always that tiny feeling of doubt.

He specifically put you in this tent to be safe from the ongoings in the camp. He specifically had you at the border of where the followers stayed to blend in. This was absolutely not part of his plan, and it disproved how this was all supposed to happen.  Your bed was as empty as the most reasonable explanation Ben could come up with.

Gamble had gone to be interrogated by Mr. Sackett, and unfortunately, it was too late to stop him and arrest Gamble. It was too late to catch Gamble…

It was too late. Ben was too late.

“No…no….,” Ben softly whispered, brows furrowed, mouth parted open as he touches your empty, cold bed. Sweat forms on his forehead. “No… it’s not possible.” His heartbeat was in his ears and Ben could feel his hands cramping with anxiety. Sweat began to trickle down his chest as he rubbed his jaw with his hand. Suddenly, everything felt too hot and too cold all at once.

He felt as if he was walking in slow motion around your tent. Your books were on the ground–a sure sign of struggle. Your shoes were left here. Your dress was still hung up to be worn. Looking under your bed, the gun he gave you to protect yourself was still in its compartment. Your dagger was half under your pillow like you tried to reach for it but were too late.

No, this can’t be. No.

“Ben,” the sound of Caleb’s voice pulled Ben from his thoughts. “Ben—oh shite, ‘e got her.” Caleb walked over to his friend, knowing he was drowning in his thoughts. He patted Ben’s cheek in a brotherly way.

“C’mon, Tallboy, no time to self-loathe!” Caleb exclaimed. “We’ve got to find her! One follower saw ‘im exit south with her—he stole a horse!”

Caleb was right—while Ben was coming up with every reason under the sun why he shouldn’t have let this happen, how wrong he was for bringing you to this camp for his own selfish reasons, and how upset he had made you the night before—there was no time to waste. He needed to find you.

He needed to find you.

~~~~

Gamble wasn’t letting up on swigging rum, and he wasn’t letting up on you yet. In his drunken state, he tied the rope on your hands even tighter, which ripped your skin open and caused your skin to crack and bleed. Your shoulders began to ache from being tied behind you for so long. And his tactics were getting more violent the more he drank.

“Seems like you like to be kicked,” Gamble spat on the ground next to you. His words slurred. You were out of breath from the blow he just gave to your stomach. You coughed uncontrollably, dirt rubbing into your cheek.

“Please—stop,” You managed to say between coughs. Gamble laughed and mimicked your voice. He bent over his knees, holding the bottle from its neck.

“If ya don’t talk, the next rope I tie will be ‘round your neck,” Gamble growled in a low voice. “And if you still don’t speak then, perhaps the methods Tallmadge uses on you will get you to speak. Or scream, at least.”

You were too dazed to understand his meaning. Your head pounded, and your stomach felt tight from bracing yourself from his hits. Suddenly, you were being pulled up by his dirty hands. He shoves you so hard against the tree you feel sharp pieces of wood dig into your back. He grabs your jaw with his right hand.

“Look at me!”  Gamble shouted in your face.

There was no point in his interrogation— you were convinced that in his drunken state, he was only doing this to scare you, and perhaps he was enjoying his power. You made it clear by taking the abuse and intimidation you were not going to give him any answers he wanted. What was his purpose now? When would this madness stop? When was he going to take you to the enemy camp?

You suddenly felt like your situation was catching up to you—the dehydration, the pain, the unsettling realization you may never see any of your friends ever again—a sudden shock rippled through your body—you were shaking from the cold, and then you became rigid in his grasp. Your heart started pounding in your chest, and suddenly you felt numb from the pain. A ringing sound filled your head. You watched as Gamble fell to the ground.

Something had happened but you watched in slow motion as you fell to your side, unable to move.

Gamble clumsily stood up, dropping the bottle of rum.

A man with a beard and dark hat was holding a gun—you couldn’t make out his face from your angle, and you couldn’t move your head. And then suddenly, another man appeared—tall, in a blue and silver coat. You could only see both their silhouettes. He attacked—no, he lunged for Gamble, throwing him to the ground. The man began to furiously punch Gamble in the face, so much you saw his own knuckles start to bleed. The man in the hat pulled the man off of Gamble.

“Enough! She needs you!” He shouts.

Caleb shoots Gamble directly in the head.

Ben falls to his knees. His bloody hands are trembling with rage. He’s breathing heavily as he rushes to your side.

You are still numb, laying on your side, shaking. You feel a warm hand at the small of your back as you are gently moved to lay on your back. You immediately lock eyes with Ben. He’s hovering over you. A tear from his eyes falls on your cheek.

“Benjamin,” your voice quivers, “Ben—” your whispers come out in huffs. You felt a heavy blanket being wrapped around you as Ben assisted you in sitting up.

“Shh,” Ben cooed, wrapping the blanket snugly around your torso. He made attempts to stretch out your legs that had been stuck like you were in a fetal position.

“She’s in shock and she’s freezin’ out here,” Caleb spoke to Ben. Ben kept his concerned eyes on you, a spurn look on his face. He nodded in response.

“Keep looking at me,” Ben softly spoke to you, following your gaze. You met his eyes and slowly began to nod with him. “You’re with me. I have you.”

Your eyes grew heavy all of the sudden, and your breathing slowed, as your world turned black.

~~~~

The first thing you felt when you woke up was a cramping pain in your abdomen. With your eyes still closed, you squirmed in discomfort. You smelt something fresh in the air—something minty and eucalyptus. You shrieked in the cot you lay in as you put a protective hand over your stomach. That’s when you felt a cold washcloth on your head, and your eyes flew open.

At first, you thought you were in the infirmary, but by the size of the tent you were in, and the lack of other cots in the tent, you were wrong. It surely wasn’t your own tent—you didn’t have that desk across from you and your cot was supposed to be tucked in the left corner of the tent. This cot was on the right side, and the cot itself was much bigger than yours.

You looked down at your stomach. You were in a clean white shift, but through the fabric, you could see bandages on your stomach, and bandages wrapped around both your wrists. You groaned at the sudden movement. You wanted to take the washcloth off your head, but when you moved your arms, you hissed in pain at how sore they were.

“You’re awake,” a light, airy voice gasped. Startled, you turned your head to see Anna rushing to your side with a hot kettle. She sat the kettle down on the table next to the cot you were on. Anna smiled, but her eyes looked sad. She took the washcloth off your forehead and placed the back of her hand on your cheek.

“Your fever’s going down, I think,” she simply stated. “How do you feel?”

“Achy…all over,” you answered slowly. “Tired. Where am I? This isn’t my cot.”

Anna sighed, looking down at you. “It’s Ben’s.”

“Ben?” you looked around making sense of your surroundings.

Suddenly, Anna perked, “Speaking of, he said to alert him as soon as you woke. Let me get him.”

Before you could answer, Anna was already on her way out. You started to get nervous, looking around Ben’s tent. It was dark outside. How long have you been out? Why did Ben put you here? The more questions you came up with, the more your heart beat faster.

Ben opened the flaps of his tent, ducking inside before standing up more straight. He was wearing his uniform—all clad in blue and silver. His hair was tied back with a few pieces loose in the front. He looked anxious as he rushed to your side. He knelt at the side of the cot and took your bandaged right hand in his.

Your eyes began to swell with tears when he held your hand to his head, putting his head down, and said a prayer under his breath. His hands were cut up and bruised, and flashes of Ben punching him in the face came to your mind. When Ben was done, he kissed your hand and opened his eyes.

For a moment, there is silence. Ben keeps hold of your hand in between both of his and caresses your knuckles, running his thumb over them. His deep blue eyes looked tense at you. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Ben finally spoke, his voice sounding like it strained to speak. “I am so, so sorry.” He laid your hand back down to rest. When he did so, you drew your breath in quickly from pain. Ben jumped at the reaction feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. You should have never been hurt. It should have been him, was all he could think.

“It’s not your fault,” you argued, “there’s no discussion about that.” You whispered. You barely had time to process what had happened, including how your capture even happened.

“Mr. Sackett…” you trailed off as tears rolled down your cheeks. Ben wiped them away with a his thumbs. He nodded in understanding.

“I know, darling,” Ben murmured, “it's terrible. It’s my fault. I should have been the one to—“ looking at your bandaged stomach and hands, Ben cut himself off. This was no time to talk about the things that happened out of his control. What truly mattered was that you were here, in his bed, safe and sound. He nearly lost you and he was never going to let that happen again.

“How do you feel?” Ben asked instead.

“I…” you didn’t know how you felt. All you knew was that you were thankful to be alive and with Ben again. “I thought he was going to kill me, Ben.”

Ben clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at you again.

“I thought I’d never see you again," you confessed. “And to leave like that, what happened the night before, Ben, I’m sorry—“

“Shh,” Ben hushed, running his fingers down the length of your jaw, over your collarbone, and down your arm. He laced his fingers with yours. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about.”

He whispered your name, “I felt hollow when I saw you were missing. I felt… I don’t ever want to feel that emotion again when I saw you weren’t in your tent. Christ, I was—I was sick about it. Thinking of what he—never mind. I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.”

You didn’t want to talk about the pain and the hurt anymore. It was obvious this situation hurt both of you, physically and mentally. What was the use of dwelling? What mattered was you were safe back in camp with Ben. He was right here, looking longingly at you, holding your hand.

“Ben, why am I not at the infirmary? Or my own tent?” You asked him, curious.

“There’s no point in being afraid of risk,” Ben simply stated, “I thought I was protecting you by keeping us a secret, by keeping you tucked away—and I was wrong. When you were captured, it made me realize that our time is precious, and I can’t control the unpredictable. I failed you. I did,” Ben turned away, taking another deep breath.

You knew he was using all his strength to not break down right there. “I can’t control the unpredictable, but I can do better, and go onward. I want you to stay with me here. It wasn’t right I kept you separate. I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, to make you think I don’t care about us. I love you, my darling. And I’m done keeping it a secret.”

Ben moved closer to you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Before I was afraid of people finding out about us, and then when you were captured, I had a new fear that they’d never even know about us. And that scared me more,” Ben sighed. “I couldn’t lose you before we could even start our life together. There’s no reason for us to put it off. I want to start our life together here, now. In this camp. In this war.”

Ben looked at you earnestly with his eyebrows raised. You smiled in spite of yourself. You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your chest.

“Yes, let’s start it now.”

Ben smiled in return, a single tear falling down his cheek. He leaned over you and slowly descend his lips to yours. His soft lips felt like a cloud. His nose brushed on your cheek and he leaned his forehead on yours as he pulled back.

He changed out of his uniform and soon joined you in his cot—no, the cot you now shared—and tucked his head in the crook of your neck, carefully placing his arm across your chest to avoid any of your wounds. Finally, you were in his arms.

[enbylestat]

There are snakes in the garden

There are snakes in the garden.

The beginning.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48398125/chapters/122071795

Pairing: multi, but, it is character driven.

Fandom: TURN: Washington’s Spies.

Rating: T - teen and up.

Summary: a series of 4 TURN one shots (not canon compliant), vignettes expanding on character and giving retrospective and character progression the show lacked.

Excerpt: He mourns for Peggy, of course, as any logical man would. But he decides to face it all, like the lion amongst snakes in a savage garden he is. “Names and ranks,” Benjamin Tallmadge says. Sitting at the desk, typical of as he knows well enough now, aides to General George Washington. “I don’t think so,” André retorts. With no hint of defeat in his voice. No, he saw the young man Benjamin Tallmadge as a challenge, an equal, and a foil in this war. A war he’d lost, but a war he wouldn’t lose face in nonetheless…

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

TURN - playlist.

American revolution playlist.

Archive of our own.

Link of links.

[enchi-elm]

On this day, September 5 in 1779, the historical Benjamin Tallmadge and Caleb Brewster were briefly united in person—a rare event, contrary to their portrayal in Turn: Washington’s Spies. The occasion was an attempt to oust a nest of Loyalist marauders—privateers—who were menacing the northern coast of Long Island in the very area where Abraham Woodhull was conducting his spy activities. The Loyalist “freebooters”, as Tallmadge describes them in his memoir, were encamped near a fortified post, the garrison Fort Franklin, on a “promontory or elevated piece of ground next to the Sound, between Huntington Harbour and Oyster Bay”. The site is known today as Fort Hill Estate.

Tallmadge and Brewster and their men (a detachment and Brewster’s whaleboat fleet) arrived on Lloyd’s Neck at 10 pm after a five hour row across the Sound and set about attacking the encampment. Tallmadge’s plan was to take them quietly—without a single shot fired—so that once the marauders were dispatched they had a clean shot at the nearby British garrison. They captured almost the whole band, with only a few escapees, one of which fired a shot that alerted the British—their chance at the garrison was foiled. Still, Tallmadge, Brewster, and their prisoners departed quickly after destroying all the boats they could find. They rowed back to Connecticut (presumably another five hour row, argh) and arrived before sunrise without the loss of a single Patriot.

244 years later, on this day, September 5 in 2023, I finished my Tallster fanfiction “You’ve Caught Me Between Wind and Water”. I did not include any pirates, to my great regret. This story is my longest project to date and one that’s very dear to me.

I was pondering its 1-year completion anniversary—today, September 5, 2024, and whether I should write an epilogue for the story. What would they be doing a year after the events of Wind and Water? Bonus, what would they have been doing in that September of 1779 specifically? Imagine my tickled surprise, dear Readers, when the historical record delivered such serendipity. (Big BIG thank you to @ollieoliveoboelo22 for giving me photos of Tallmadge’s memoir and Alexander Rose’s book on the passages in question).

Of course they’re together in real life. Of course they’re ousting pirates. Of course they’re performing a raid.

And—the garrison! As readers may or may not know, taking down a garrison head-on was the planned finale for much of the time I spent writing the story. (It’s not subtle, there are a lot of hints.) In the end, I ended up shifting the focus to taking down a bunch of marauding Loyalists who were terrorizing the country-side and hassling Patriots. That fictional raid ended up being a major reconciliation for Ben and Caleb, who were on the outs.

So to go back in time and read about the events of September 5, 1779, and find out that Ben and Caleb were brought together in real life to take down a garrison—and failing that, settled for taking down a bunch of marauding Loyalists who were terrorizing the country-side and hassling Patriots… well, it must be some sort of divine sign.

[turnwashingtonsbaddies]

For my last of the night - I humbly submit a plea to the Simcoe fans in the jury.

Should Rogers win this round, he stands against Benjamin Tallmadge, the only person in this bracket who can truly go toe to toe with Simcoe. But we can band together and fight, and if we can take Benjamin out... Well, you have a clearer shot at victory. As much as I would love it, Rogers has little chance of making it far. I don't care if he wins, I just want Ben to loose. So from one insane man enjoyer to another... I ask you, stand with me, and vote for Rogers.

‼️big picture bracket strategy from the rogers camp‼️

the art of war? more like the art of the hot bracket

[ollieoliveoboelo22]

Turn Week 2024: Day 3 - Different Time Period.

Now is the perfect time for me to bust out the College Band AU that's been invading my head for over a year. All because the sax TA looks like Benedict Arnold from TURN... I kid you not that's the origin. Is this a stretch for the prompt? Maybe but you get it anyway. Shout out to @phociian for jumping on my AU and rolling along with it.

There are a lot of characters, so I'm gonna cut down the list quite a bit for TURN characters. I also made most of them music majors because if I have to suffer music theory and aural skills, so do they.

George Washington: The Director of Bands

Everyone loves him, they show up to practice for him. His office hours usually have students in there just to chat and get some good advice. Also conducts the Wind Symphony.

Horatio Gates: The Assistant Director of Bands

The band director everyone loathes and makes them consider quitting. Usually a group of students decides to protest if they find out it's just him for a rehearsal and will get milkshakes or chug milk to get sick during rehearsal.

Lafayette: Drum Major

He was an international student his first year and decided to full on move and transfer to the United States. The Washington's usually host him. Has a ton of money, but everyone thinks he's broke because he only eats ramen.

Benjamin Tallmadge: Horn/Mellophone

Music and History Major. Absolute history nerd, but we love him for it. He's either usually in the library researching or in the music building practicing. Due to his friends he knows all the drama in the band but he wants nothing to do with it.

Caleb Brewster: Percussion (tenors)

Music Major. Caleb does gigs all over town at bars and clubs, usually with Jack Custis. He's only really in college to keep playing because he loves it. He's roommates with Ben, and their apartment basically became the designated hangout space.

Anna Strong: Color Guard (flags)

Journalism Major. Anna overhears a lot of gossip from the color guard. She's the reason why Ben knows so much. That and Abe usually causes some sort of drama that she has to drag him out again with the help of Mary.

Alexander Hamilton: Trumpet

PoliSci and Music Major. The very epitome of a trumpet personality. Along with John Laurens, they get up to far too many shenanigans. Including taking shots during a performance on stage.

Peggy Shippen: Majorette

Communications Major. Peggy has a long distance boyfriend, John Andre, at their rival school. Usually a good bit of jokes are made, but they're a very cute couple and take pictures together at the rivalry football game. The only reason she came to this university was because her father insisted on it. Though she transfers going into her Junior year.

Benedict Arnold

Saxophone TA (the thing that started it all). Arnold is really good at running the sax section through rehearsals and they're one of the best on the band. Even argued with Gates when he was crossing the line with comments towards students. And due to the music department (Congress) he left and went to the masters program at their rival university. (Still working on the flaws on this plot line)

Yes I know there are people missing, I haven't gotten to them as I have a lot on the aides and the other generals. I know not all instruments were covered, they are in my master doc. Yes, the specific details come from real life events. Thank you for reading

[tallmadgeandtea]

Hi! SS&SP Chapter 11 is finally finished! With a shit ton of editing and little time to do it, of course, but here’s a snippet from a fun future scene where Lizzie and the boys get into shooting shenanigans, and Benjamin… well… you’ll see:

“You should demonstrate your special move, Bennyboy.” Caleb Brewster said, his mouth curled in a sly grin. He moved the pistol between his hands as if it were a plaything, wooden and ineffective, the bullet a ball tied to a string.

Elizabeth redirected her attention back to Benjamin. “Oh?”

He glanced downward, “I don’t think that’s necessary, Caleb. Would be a waste of bullets.”

“What are you referring to, Mr. Brewster-”

“Eh, Lizzie, what did I say?”

“Caleb.”

“I once saw him shoot a man while flying on his horse like a devil outta hell.” Caleb replied. “Quite a sight to see if you ask me.”

“She didn’t,” Benjamin said curtly.

The rest of the group’s interest piqued, the conversation lulled, nonverbal deliberation hanging in the air with the gunsmoke. “I agree with Brewster,” Hamilton, of course, with an eerily similar scheming grin— a gunner’s grin. “I haven’t seen a good cavalryman perform since my last raid with Harry Lee.”

Benjamin scoffed, a low, warning laugh. “I’m not performing, Hamilton.”

“Let him go.” Tilghman looked over his shoulder, past the tree line and towards Headquarters. Were the sentries watching, or was she seeing things? He shook his head, smiling gently at Elizabeth. “His Excellency doesn’t want any shooting that isn’t drills, let alone a pistol from horseback.”

“You’re wrong about that, Captain,” Caleb clicked his tongue, “we’ve been at it for an hour and he still ain’t sent one of those men to come and scold us.”

Tilghman bristled at the casual rebuttal. “Don’t push your luck.”

“It’s my speciality.”

“I will push mine,” Lafayette finally entered the petty argument, “His Excellency listens to any explanation I offer. Is that not the case, gentlemen?”

“Always is!”

She ignored the rising argument over Washington’s favoritism. She looked back at Headquarters. Was he watching? Standing at his office window with his hands behind his back, distracting the others from copying orders? Would he bring it up at dinner?

If they let me stay, I’ll defend them. If worse came to worst, she’d show Washington her shot. And she’d tell him Benjamin was the reason why. She still felt his strong hands on her arm, perfecting her stance, the way he whispered in her ear, the way she turned around and her chin almost grazed his shoulder, the way he smiled when they saw the bullseye.

The bullseye wasn’t on the target, though.

“Major Tallmadge?”

“Miss?” Benjamin’s voice struck down the argument.

“Will you do it for me?”

He considered it- he considered her, searching her expression in the lull between speaking, she tilted her head to the side, giving him a soft, inviting smile. Clever girl, Elizabeth. She tried convincing herself it was wrong to use what she learned in Philadelphia on him.

Useless.

“…If you really want me to, Miss Walker.”

Elizabeth and Caleb exchanged the weapon. She held the pistol. Was the handle still warm? Still pulsing with their shared energy? “I do.”

Benjamin nodded, resigned. “Just a moment.”

He took the pistol from her and tucked it into his belt. He left the group, grabbing his helmet and cradling it on his side. He disappeared from the clearing and transformed into a silhouette until he reached Headquarters.

Caleb inhaled sharply through his teeth, shaking his head. He folded his arms. “He just can’t say no to you, Lizzie.”

Lafayette and the aides raised their eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. Elizabeth caught Tilghman’s expression change— changed to his curious, almost apprehensive look from earlier. Take a step back, Ben, he’d said. She hadn’t notice they were practically- she couldn’t call it an embrace. Yet there was no other word she could use.

Even though he technically outranked him, Benjamin had listened to the order.

[meerawrites]

Happy STS! But oh no! One of your characters has been stabbed! What chaos does this bring about? Who's been stabbed, who did the stabbing, who yanks the sword out without thinking, etc.? ♥️

Just for the sake of chaos… I’m gonna say, Benjamin Fisher. Or, vampire and slow corruption arc Benjamin Tallmadge from TURN: Washington’s Spies. Not just stabbed, Ben’s favourite horse was shot from under him and he lays dying on the battlefield, in Yorktown, Virginia, in 1781. The date is October 1st, 1781, the siege is halfway over and the Americans are winning. It is pure bad luck.

Audrey would simply say, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

Audrey screams. Audrey tries real hard not to have a mental breakdown. Audrey swore she’d never turn him. But this isn’t fair to either of them, and the war is not over, Benjamin insisted on finishing what he started. Ethics and future consequences can go to hell. He may hate her for this, but this is bigger than either of them at this point…

Audrey stops hesitating. Like a French Valkyrie come to judge the worthy, she rides out to where Benjamin lays dying.

Audrey doesn’t need to drain him, the bullet and the redcoats blade did that just fine.

Moments before Ben is “lost”, just enough to briefly glimpse the other side, who knows what he sees, Audrey doesn’t believe in heaven or hell, she is an atheist, for now.

Benjamin is turned into a vampire in a last ditch attempt (though hypocritical) by Audrey to not lose him. The war doesn’t end until 1783, America wins. To the shock of the 18th century world stage, it only took 5 years of war and French support. (naval blockade in the West Indies and a sea battle in India, which America wins).

Benjamin asks himself: “what is the cost of my soul?”

Note: this is just basically Fisher’s origin story, or how he got vampirism. I have no intention of ending this fic, that way. I may be a morally complex bi, but, Benjamin Tallmadge would have a religious Protestant mental breakdown if that happened. Yay for original characters!

[knowltonsrangers]

Hi! Anon from last night here;)

So, I may or may not have irreversibly fallen in love with a whole score of historical men, and your genius writing is the primary cause.

I am currently squealing over the CUTENESS overload that is the Benjamin Tallmadge one shot, where the reader is from the modern world and is stuck in colonial america. It is kinda a novelty concept, since usually it is the other way around (don’t get me wrong, your Nathan Hale series is top tier). The confusedTM reader and even more confused Ben- it just sooooo good. And the plot presents so many other opportunities- if you ever have the inspiration to turn it into a series- I am so down!

Hello there!!

ahh!!! Thank you so so much!! I am very well known for starting series’ and ultimately abandoning them, but I’m always willing to leave room to expand on them in the future. or even comeback with a new chapter!

Ideal Location chapter 15 has been written for a very long time, it’s just a matter of me not hating what I wrote for it so much…haha! and getting it edited

but thank you for your love on Theoretically! It’s really a fun write, I wouldn’t mind keeping it going! and no worries, you’re not a idiot! I am also very inconsistent with titles so I think just recently this series got a proper name, lol.

this makes me so happy to hear, I’m actually crying. it means so, so much to me! 🫶

[annastrxng]

since you write Anna and Sarah Phillips could you tell me how their views on Arnold compare and contrast?

Anna's first recollection of hearing about Benedict Arnold came on the heels of his service at Saratoga. He had been around at the outbreak of thew war in Lexington with Ethan Allen. But the papers first heralded him a HERO after Saratoga- so a little bit after October 1777. Her first impressions of him were truly quite favorable given how easily he threw the British into disarray. The papers also touted his bravery at Quebec and Lake Champlain. This opinion is bolstered by words sent from Tallmadge. Ben Tallmadge's opinion of him was also one of shock and reverence.

That favorable opinion began to wane during his occupation in Philadelphia. It is there, that his ego and bad attitude began to take lordship over his life.

Then in late 1780, when Abigail reveals Arnold's treachery and the plot about West Point, the BETRAYAL she felt was INTENSE. Surely, it was nowhere near as intense as what General Washington must have felt, having been closely confiding in the man. But it sent Anna into a PANIC mode. Everything she fought so dearly for was now placed in HORRIBLE JEAPORDY.

After the war, she could NEVER think of Arnold in the same fashion. Though he had served quite honorably at the start, his reputation was well and truly sullied. If she had SEEN him again, she would have likely taken her SHOT.

________________________________________________________

Sarah wasn't too KEEN on rebels after being bound, gagged, and kidnapped by Colonel Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys. She saw him as brassy, unrefined. So when Arnold appeared, ostentatious and on horseback and speaking quite excellently in the Kings English, she FELT a certain level of kinship. He was the kind of man who reminded her of her father.

She sat down to conduct a personal interview with him. Colonel Arnold was eloquent in his approach, almost diplomatic and quite amiable despite her prodding. He was protective of her which, earned a good deal of respect.

May 10th 1775, Sarah decided to accompany him on his attack of Fort Ticonderoga. There she witnessed first had his valor. And though Arnold defects to her side, his treachery never sat quite right with her. Not after he extolled the virtues of the rebels.

On the other hand, let it be said, she abhors Arnold's wife- Peggy Shippen. (not pertinent to the inquiry at hand, but have that hot take anyways)

[vocesincaput]

@pyratezlife (Ben Tallmadge)

Even as they had approached the battlefield, something deep within John's gut had told him that something was wrong.

He had received information from one of his spies on the amount of soldiers the continental army had in the area and where they would be positioned. But the Major still felt something wasn't right. The source hadn't failed him before but there was something that he couldn't put his finger on that felt... off.

If only he had listened to his gut.

The Continental Army had been hiding and waiting whilst only a few were on the battlefield to keep up the illusion that everything was going as planned. As soon as John and the others had been on the field, attacking the planted men, the enemy had struck. It didn't take long for them to get completely overwhelmed, John being shot twice in the process (once in the left shoulder & once in the left side of his abdomen) and losing consciousness.

Waking the next day, John found himself being tended to by a medic. It didn't take long for him to realise that he was in the hands of the Continental Army. When he had tried to sit up, searing pain shot through him and the medic eased him back down onto the bunk before resuming tending his wounds. The Major looked down as best he could, taking note of how well they were being stitched given he was one of their enemy.

Almost a full day passed and John took the time to watch and take in everything he could see. He was surprised by how well he was being treated. Never having assumed the worst of them himself, he was still appreciative of the basic respects he was given. Making sure to thank the medic who was seeing to his wounds and those that brought him food and water.

It was later in the day when John was sat at a table in a modestly decorated room, awaiting someone he had been told would want to ask him a few questions. He hadn't bothered to ask anymore, knowing that he wasn't owed anything else. They had been kind enough to someone from the other side, he was grateful for what little he had received already.

Glancing down at himself for a few moments, John was also grateful they hadn't given him clothing that was overtly of the Continental Army (his own uniform ruined by the gunshots and his own blood). It had been quite a while since he had been injured and John had almost forgotten how difficult it was to sit properly without causing too much discomfort.

He was just shifting his position in the chair to try and ease the pain when the door to the room opened and he raised his head. Instinctively straightening himself in his seat. Jaw flinching as the only sign of the pain it caused him.

"You must be the one come to question me. Major...?"

[viola-ophelia]

2022 Fanfic Year in Review: ifearnocolors on ao3

i was clicking around on my own blog earlier and randomly found my 2021 fanfic year in review, so i thought it’d be fun to do it again! i wasn’t tagged by anyone ofc lol, but i’m tagging a few ppl at the end in case anyone wants to do this too :) 

Total Completed Works: 11, same as last year! 

Word Count: 21,677... much less than last year lol. but to be fair, i finished publishing my silmarillion longfic at the beginning of 2021, so that drastically inflated last year’s wordcount. this year, i learned to embrace the fact that i am most definitely a oneshot (and occasionally two-shot ;)) writer! 

Fandoms I’ve Written In: loki (mcu), bridgerton, pirates of the caribbean, and turn: washington’s spies. 

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?: about what i’d expected! in 2022, i think i finally found a fic-writing schedule that i’m comfortable with... which is writing whenever inspiration strikes, but not pushing myself beyond that! i wrote pretty sporadically in the first half of the year (mainly because i was working on a personal writing project) but published a few more things in the fall and winter as i got back into the turn fandom (and ran my first fandom event, which was so much fun and filled me with inspiration!). 

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?: i’d definitely say it was gather up the splinters, build a casket for my tears. this was, like, my 3rd or 4th attempt at writing a turn au where john andre survives LOL, but i’m definitely happiest with/proudest of this one. fun fact, i wrote the whole thing in a day after being struck with random inspiration during my ‘turnsgiving’ week event LOL! 

Do You Have Any Fanfic Goals For The New Year?: i just hope to keep writing, to keep loving it, to keep expanding my skills, and to keep being proud of my work!

Most Popular Story Of The Year?: you stuck in the knife that you held at my back, my speculative loki season 2 opening scene, with 43 kudos. (hey, i never claimed to be a popular writer LOL! but 43 whole people enjoying one of my stories is incredible.)

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion: i’m well aware that there’s literally zero market for cutler beckett x OC fanfiction LOL, but in the ideal universe, chasing pirates would’ve gotten a lot more attention! (and for all you beckett haters, the OC in question is a cannibalistic siren, so. there’s something in it for everyone!)

Most Fun Story To Write: i think my idea of what’s “fun to write” is, uh, a little different from the norm. i greatly enjoyed forcing john andre to kill ben tallmadge in the crown hangs heavy on either side, and i also took great pleasure in forcing davy jones and cutler beckett into a weird existentialist hell scenario in parley. clearly, i’m extremely sane! :D 

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: oof idk, someone else psychoanalyze me! idk about a particular work, but i feel like the fact that all 11 of my fics from this year were tagged as “character study” says... something? 

Biggest Disappointment: that i didn’t really leave my comfort zone in terms of style or substance. 2022 showed me that i definitely have a “typical fic” (oneshot, character study, vignette/snapshot style, angst and/or existentialism), but i’m not sure whether that means i’ve found my style/authorial voice, or if my works are a bit formulaic lolol. i’d like to hopefully branch out from my instinctive structure/style in 2023. the closest i got to trying anything new/different last year was attempting to write fluff in the second chapter of sweet nothing, and, well... it’s simply not that fluffy. a bit of angst got in there somehow!! 

Biggest Surprise: someone wrote a fic inspired by one of mine for the first time ever, which was so amazing. also, i randomly wrote a bridgerton fic (i want to be the one to walk in the sun) while recovering from wisdom teeth surgery LOL! 

i’m tagging @deathicus-sling @thatfeanorian @maironsmaid @sauronnaise @moodrose @leomcclintock @tallmadgeandtea @musicboxmemories @hmsannlett (thanks for tagging me last year LOL!) and any other writers who follow me! (feel free to ignore this if you want lol. also i don’t mind if you reblog or make your own, either is good!)

[amberlynnmurdock]

New Love, New Haven

Chapter Thirteen: Relations between Wethersfield and New Haven

Pairing: Benjamin Tallmadge x Original Female Character

Summary: Ben and Sadie communicate through letters, but keeping up is harder than it seems.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this update, friends! We're approaching the final chapters, which makes me sad, but we have some fun chapters coming soon!!

New Haven 

End of August 1773 

Ben’s first letter came as soon as a week after he left town on horseback for Wethersfield. Sadie snatched the letter from her father’s hands. Her sprint caused her father's hair to sway over his forehead. 

“Aye! No running in the tavern,” Richard scolded, like Sadie was still a child. She didn’t care. Sadie sat at the end of the bar and ripped the wax-sealed envelope open. Suddenly, the noise of the tavern drowned out as Sadie began to read the letter in Ben’s voice. 

Dear Sadie, 

I’ve finally settled into my temporary home. I just arrived tonight, and after unpacking, I immediately wanted to write to you so I could send this letter by morning. You would love this abode I’m in. It’s small, but it’s got a lot of character. There’s a fireplace for when winter comes around. I have a big enough bed—anything is better than the small cots Yale made us sleep on. At least my desk is large; perfect for grading papers, reading, and of course, writing to you. I think I’ll find myself doing that a lot here. 

I miss you so much. I’ve not gone a day without thinking of you and our last night spent together. It’s on my mind, constantly. I better stop thinking of it now. 

I hope you’re enjoying the books I’ve left for you. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on them. I know we may be apart, but my heart feels like it’s with you.

Class starts next week. I can’t wait to tell you about my students. 

Yours, 

Benjamin Tallmadge 

Sadie read and re-read the letter, feeling her heart jump in her chest. This letter easily made her day. She tucked it in her dress’ front pocket and continued the rest of her shift, with Ben tucked in the back of her mind. 

☆☆☆☆

That night, Sadie sat up at her desk and began to write her response to Ben. 

Dear Benjamin,

I’ve been re-reading Shakespeare’s sonnets. They remind me of you. Reading them makes me feel like there isn’t such a distance between us. 

I can hardly wait to hear about how your first class went. I’m sure by the time you receive this letter you’ll already be on your fifth or sixth class. I know your students will love the way you teach, like I do. It’ll be hard for them to be distracted because of how captivating you are. What will you be teaching first? You forgot to mention in your letter. You know I love every detail when it comes to learning. 

Your dwelling sounds cozy. I can imagine how it looks. Your desk is large? Similar to the size of the desks at Yale? I bet you and I could fit both our work on there and work side by side. Then again, maybe we wouldn’t get much work done if I were there with you. 

I’m sorry if that was crude. 

I haven’t stopped thinking of our last night together, either. It makes me yearn for our next one even more. 

It’s tough without you and Nathan. I can’t lie. But it’s nice to have Genny here. The tavern is still busy, but I always half expect to see you and Nathan bounding through the doors.

Until your next letter. 

Yours, 

Sadie Hale 

Sadie’s eyelids began to feel heavy. She placed her quill in the ink pot and blew out her candle. Her room felt so very dark, and very cold, without Ben. She laid her paper out for the ink to dry and tucked herself in bed, thoughts of Ben lulling her to sleep. 

☆☆☆☆

For many weeks, it looked like that first week without Ben. 

Like clockwork, Sadie checked the mail for his letter every week or so and she wouldn’t hesitate to write a response that same night. She loved to receive his letters—it felt like it was Christmas each time a new one came in. What would Ben have to say now? What new updates? How was school going? How was the weather in Wethersfield? 

His letters have been positive for the most part, but it wasn’t until Sadie received his last letter, in October, that things started to feel as uncertain as the night he left. 

Wethersfield 

October 1773

The ocean was so dark blue that it was almost black. The sound of the water running up the shore and then falling back into itself put Ben in a trance. His feet dug into the sand. The night was completely still. The color of the sky matched the color of the ocean, save for the stars that twinkled. He looked up at them as they formed a new constellation, one he hadn’t seen before, one he thinks he’d name Sadie. He’s alone. 

And with a jolt, Ben wakes up in his cot, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. His tiny room was hot and stuffy. Leaving a window open hadn’t helped at all. Ben kicked the thin sheets off of him and groggily stomped over to his desk. He was sure he was supposed to be up in a few hours for school. The next class is about basic algebra. But Ben’s not thinking about the lesson plan or what comes after that—his thoughts, and now he supposed, his dreams, were consumed by Sadie. He was struggling more than he thought by being so far away from her. 

Rubbing his eyes, he sat at his large wooden desk and lit a candle. 

Ben stared at the flame for a few moments before he searched for his ink, quill and paper. He began to write a letter to Sadie. 

Dear Sadie, 

It’s the middle of the night, and I’ve just woken up from a dream about you. I was at the beach alone. I felt completely in solitude. Something about the environment made me feel safe like you were there. And the stars in my dream formed a constellation I hadn’t seen before; it probably doesn’t exist, but when I looked at them, I thought of you. And then I woke up, to this reality of you not being here with me. I miss you terribly. I can hardly wait for the winter. I’m going to try my hardest to see New Haven before I go to Setauket. 

Tomorrow’s class is on algebra. I can’t teach them the complex subjects we studied together yet. When I do, I’ll take what I’ve learned from you and incorporate it. I think you’d love my pupils, Sadie. They are young and bright; eager to learn. 

I miss you, terribly. Please know that I think of you every waking moment—even when I dream. 

Yours, 

Benjamin Tallmadge 

Ben sighed as he laid the paper out for the ink to dry. He pulled out an envelope and laid it next to the letter to serve as a reminder in the morning to drop it at the post. He wished he had something of Sadie to hold close: a piece of clothing, a chain, one of her bows…anything. Anything, he wished he could hold close to his heart. But he had nothing. Nothing but his memories and whatever they translated to in his dreams. 

Feeling a wave of exhaustion hit him again, Ben returns to his cot. It’s so hot, he doesn’t bother throwing his sheets over again. 

New Haven

November 1773 

It was a misty morning in New Haven, and Sadie was preparing for the day ahead. 

New Haven felt much quieter these days, without Nathan coming by in the afternoons. Everything in the town was still the same: she saw the same shops open early, and the same townsfolk coming to the tavern at night, but with Nathan and Ben away, the changes felt like a big ripple in a small pond. Sadie kept to herself and did her chores quietly around the tavern. She helped her father carry new ale barrels up the stairs. She cleaned, she served, she smiled. 

She missed Nathan dearly. Sadie kept the thought of him constantly, like carrying a satchel on her shoulder. 

And of course, her thoughts always wandered to Ben. But she tried to only think of him at night before she was about to go to bed. It was too painful to think of him during the day—Sadie wouldn’t be able to get anything done if she did. So, she saved him for the night, because the night reminded her of him in so many ways: their late-night secret meetings, meeting him down by the door to go to the shore, that last night they had in her bed… 

She laced up her boots and got up from her bed. Before she went downstairs to prep the bar, she paused at her desk, which had Ben’s most recent letter displayed. She picked up the paper and read it again. It was about a dream he’d had of her. Yes, it was November now, and Ben’s most recent letter was from mid-October. 

If Sadie’s predictions were right, he should have received her response right before the end of October. But now it was mid-November and almost the holidays. Nathan would be coming back to New Haven in a few weeks, and Ben? Well, she didn’t know, because she hasn’t heard from him. 

For a long time, Sadie convinced herself it was because he was busy. Taking on a new teaching job came with a lot of responsibilities. He’d have to keep up with a lot of students and grade a lot of papers. And Sadie knew Ben’s work ethic—he practically threw himself into his work, letting each subject and lesson consume him, he must’ve gotten too busy, Sadie thought. Maybe his lessons got mixed up with his letters. Maybe he was planning on writing her a large update and was saving it for now. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Maybe he met someone else. 

She shooed the thought away as soon it crept into her mind. 

Sadie felt her heart wrench as she read and re-read his letter. She was transported back to her late summer evenings with Ben, trading sweet nothings and poetry, his notes…for a moment, she wasn’t pretending like she didn’t miss him. But then she heard her father call from the bar, and Sadie placed the letter back down and went downstairs. With each creak of the step, an image of Ben faded from her mind. 

Cleaning the tavern was a good distraction from it all. And it got even better when people began to trickle in, asking for ale or water. Asking Sadie what it was like to be without her brother. Saying they missed Nathan’s shining smile, too. Genny came in around noon, to Sadie’s delight. 

“I’ve got great news,” Genny beamed as she met Sadie at the bar. Sadie leaned over and rested her head in her hand. 

“Go on!” Sadie urged. 

“My father said if we wanted to, and your father would allow it, we could spend the spring next year in Middletown,” Genny said in a hushed tone. “You know, to study the herbs and learn about healing.” 

Sadie opened her mouth to reply but found herself at a loss for words. Well, what would happen if Nathan came around then? What if she needed to help her father here? What about Ben? How long would they stay there? 

“I…”

“Sadie, what is it?” Genny asked. “I thought you’d be excited. Middletown! A new place.” 

“It’s not that I’m not excited. It’s just that I have so much going on here in New Haven. What if I leave and Nathan decides to come back for a weekend? I’ve got to see him. And… you know, there’s Ben,” Sadie explained sheepishly. She felt a dent in her heart when she explained her grievances. 

Genny gave her a sympathetic look. “Sadie. You can’t place your life on hold, waiting for other people. Of course, Nathan is your brother—you’ll see him. But Ben? Has he written you back since October?” 

Sadie’s face darkened as she looked away, embarrassed. “Not yet.” 

Genny shrugged her shoulders. “This would be a good opportunity for us both. Get us both out of here. The boys did it! Why can’t we?” 

Sadie bit her lip. You can’t place your life on hold. 

“Well, all right. I guess the reality of it is what makes me nervous. I’ll speak to my father tonight. Perhaps, he may be more convinced if your father came in to talk about it. Over ale,” Sadie added. 

Genny smiled, “Perfect. I’ll see if he can tonight.” 

After Genny left, Sadie felt another dent form in her heart; things were changing and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. 

☆☆☆☆

Later that evening, Sadie sat at her desk, contemplating bringing her ink and quill out to write a letter to Ben. Since when did she feel so unsure of herself, when it came to Ben? Would it be strange to send another letter after he hadn’t replied to her? The last she checked, Ben was writing about dreams of her and telling her how much he missed her. What had changed? 

After much convincing, Sadie told herself that the purpose of this letter would be to inform Ben of her new ventures starting next spring. She’d be in Middletown, with Genny, studying healing. Middletown was not that far from Wethersfield and Sadie hated the hopeful feeling this thought brought. 

Dear Benjamin, 

I haven’t heard from you in a while. I hope everything is all right in Wethersfield. I can’t wait to hear about your lessons and pupils. I think I wrote that in my last letter. Are you okay? I’d love to hear from you. It’s been a while. 

I’m writing this letter to inform you that next spring I’ll be staying with Genny and her father in Middletown. We will be studying healing and herbs. After her father came in to talk to my father, he was convinced it would be a good learning opportunity and agreed to let me go. Of course, what’s heavy on my mind is what happens to us. But there’s not much I can do if I don’t hear from you. I can’t say no to an opportunity like this. 

If it’s meant to be, it will be, you and I. 

I’m holding on dearly to what we have, but I can’t hold on forever, Ben. 

I really do hope I hear from you soon. 

Yours, 

Sadie Hale 

A tear fell down Sadie’s cheek, splotching the word “Yours.” But Sadie didn't notice when she folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope. 

[nomdepen]

Pen had loved Ben when he walked through those doors, but the more he spoke, the more he took part in her mother's trivial volleys, the more she knew it to be true: she loved him. Even in his defense, he was gentle. While Portia pummeled him with trick questions, eager to catch him in one of them, he dodged each bullet valiantly and with utmost grace. But Portia wasn't a woman so easily bested.

"Well, at least you're honest about that. But you must understand, Mister Tallmadge, that a marriage is about more than just love. I'm not sure how they do things in Connecticut or Long Island, but in London, marriage is an economic proposition. Love is secondary to the allegiances formed."

Pen's cheeks flared brighter, but not with embarrassment. Hearing her mother speak so bluntly to her was customary, but hearing such harsh words towards the man she loved was infuriating. A part of her wondered if it would truly just be easier to elope with Ben, to disappear in middle of the night and have the freedom to love whoever she wanted. But she knew it was impossible. Ben was loyal. To his friends, to his job. To his morals. Although Penelope was sure she could manage to convince him to flee with her if she truly wanted to, it wouldn't be the life either of them yearned for.

"A tutor? For the Bridgertons, you say?" Portia shot a glance back at Penelope, an expression of surprise. An expression reading: 'why didn't you say so before?'

"I was trying to tell you before, Mama. Ben is a teacher and an excellent one, too." She didn't dare meet her mother's gaze as she blurted out her praises. Instead, she kept blue eyes pinned to the swirling designs on the wallpaper.

His further declaration of his intentions made Pen's heart soar. He was a hero in her eyes, but not one of the battlefield. She hadn't known him as a soldier, but instead as a sweet romantic with a heart she wished to cherish until her own ceased to beat. She would give him all the children he wanted. She would spend every day of her life giving him the entirety of her heart. They could open a school together, somewhere to share their passions with the newer generations. They could fill their own home with children and love and laughter, and create their own happily ever after far from the expectations of the rest of the world.

But Portia didn't see life through rose colored glasses like her daughter did. Despite Ben's determination, his words only earned a mere harrumph from Lady Featherington.

"I'm not sure how much Penelope has told you of our plights in the past when it came to men and money, but my late Archibald was terrible with finances. His gambling habits nearly cost us everything and when he died, it was I who kept the family afloat in such tumultuous waters. The Lord Featherington after him also tried to swindle his way into the ton's pockets, and failed. Despite these hardships, however, I have managed to keep the Featherington name out of the mud. So, tell me why I should entrust the future of my family to a patriot who profits off of war?"

Each words that fell from her mama's lips left lacerations on Pen's heart. She wanted desperately to defend Ben, to stand before him and be his shield against Portia's vile accusations. But she knew it would not change anything. If anything, it would make her mother realize just how desperate she was and would only prove to make things worse.

"Mister Tallmadge," Lady Featherington continued, folding her hands neatly in front of her, her posture smug as though victory were in sight. "You seem like an intelligent man. And from the high praises from Penelope, I'm sure you are. But I consider myself an intelligent woman, as well. One that does not make deals merely based on the words of men, but instead by the actions of them. So, let's say I approve of this union," At her mama's words, Pen's eyes widened, all her attention going to her mother's hypothetical proposal.

"What then? Where do you intend to live, you and your new bride? Do you plan on attending the functions expected of a family of our position? And how soon do you plan to produce an heir?" At her mother's questions, Pen's cheeks burned a bright red and her mouth went dry. "Surely, you know that whichever of my daughters produces a son first is set to inherit the title of Lord Featherington, and will be expected to run the estate. If Penelope were to bear your children--"

"Mama!" Pen jumped to attention, her words urgent and pleading. Whatever happened, Pen knew it was more likely that Philippa was going to inherit everything anyway. She was already wed and she would surely become pregnant with the new Lord Featherington any day now. In Pen's mind, she hadn't even considered herself a contender, let alone a competitor. She had no idea how exactly a woman came to be with child, but she had a feeling it wasn't something that could be done overnight. And Philippa already had a head start.

"This line of questioning is ridiculous and irrelevant." As the cracks in her patience begin to splinter, Pen's voice picks up speed. "Ben and I do not wish for anything more than a happy union. One that will, quite frankly, take place with or without your blessing." She spares a glance at Ben, hoping he wouldn't be too terribly mortified by her declaration. But it was true. She was intent on marrying him one way or another and all this interrogation would decide was who would be invited to the wedding. Her heart raced and she no longer had the strength to bite her tongue. Benjamin was a true gentleman, as always, but Pen was tired of being polite. Not when the rest of her life hung in the balance.

"Philippa and Prudence are free to fight over the estate. All I want is to marry Ben, Mama. I don't care about anything else. Not titles, not property, nor money. Just him and I, and the family we decide to make, when we decide to make it. So, please, Mama," Finally, Pen's voice lowered to a whisper as she took Portia's hands in her own. "Say yes."

Little by little, it felt as though the air were being siphoned from the room. Each time Benjamin attempted to offer a reply, Portia continued onward, driving the sword of her tongue before he could even think to dodge each proverbial thrust.

"I am from Wethersfield, Connecticut," he affirmed, "but before that, I grew up in Setauket, Long Island. My father is a well-renowned reverend, so the wealth in the family assuredly comes from his side."

Trailing off, he glanced back toward Penelope before confessing, "In the way of returning, I...am unsure. A mere month ago, I had every intention of returning home -- but a mere month ago, I did not have Penelope." With a shy little smile, Benjamin explained, "When you have everything you need within your very heart, it doesn't much matter where you reside. I love my father, absolutely, but I feel that if it becomes an issue, he would be willing to relocate in his retirement. He has a few friends in London."

Portia, unfortunately, seemed far from appeased. She started circling him like an impatient lioness, setting her sights upon the inevitable kill. Benjamin remained ramrod straight in his posture -- in many respects, her appraisal was much like being within the army, only instead of appeasing a strict overseer, he was now in danger of displeasing a sour-faced mother of the ton.

In reference to her question, Benjamin shook his head. "No, I wasn't seeking a wife," he affirmed. "In truth, I wished to escape the states for a while...with the war still so close in my mind, I didn't want to remain where the memories were so prevalent. And with my father's British connections, he was able to secure me a position with the Bridgertons." He winced, all too aware that Portia would be displeased. "I tutor young Gregory. I received a generous education at Yale, where I could have easily followed my father into the clergy, but something has always drawn me to teaching...so I followed my heart. Much as I am now."

Far too afraid to face Penelope, lest he falter, Benjamin's heart sank like a stone in the sea, because Portia was right: what could he offer the Featheringtons? What he did, he did for love -- for the love of children -- and he knew such romantic ideals would be spurned nearly as much as Penelope's love of literature.

Steeling his shoulders, Benjamin looked Portia in the eye and declared, "I'm unsure of how well veterans are received here, madam, but back in the states, it's considered quite the honor to serve one's country. Although I avidly avoid favoritism, it does come up here and there, and parades and events have been held in our honor." He exhaled. "In short, I receive both a pension for my service -- so I will always be guaranteed some form of pay -- and the accolades of being a war hero... Though I am no hero. I will always do my duty, no matter the cost. And right now, my duty is to cherish your daughter."

Opening and closing his hands, Benjamin finally glanced over at Penelope and caught her gaze. He needed to persevere for her, and with a flutter in his throat, he managed a smile before continuing, "In answer to your earlier question, I do value love more than I do dowries, but I would never presume to insult you with my romanticisms. Still, in addition to my healthy pay and the respect of most citizens, I'm afraid the greatest asset I have is love. I will never abandon your daughter -- I will always adore her -- and in the end, isn't that truly what matters? Don't we all wish to be loved and treasured for the rest of our days?"

[enchi-elm]

Apfelessig rewatches Turn: S01E03 Of Cabbages and Kings

0:01 I remember this scenery is why I fell in love with Turn. The forest shots remain my favourite, especially these breathy morning mist ones. Gorgeous.

0:20 The producers, probably: Hmm. We let two of our heroes look pretty bad these last two episodes, what with the entrapment and prisoner torture. Let's have a shot of them riding together on horses like buddies.

0:47 Whenever a previously unknown and obviously green character gets named in the episode, it's a sure-fire sign they'll be dead by the end of it.

1:54 See, like, logistically, this is where it gets really annoying trying to base historical fiction on a TV show. Is this a platoon? A company? What's the difference? Surely there should be 50 more of them? Why isn't Scott in front? Should he be? Are those men militia and what are they doing with the regulars? Are those regulars?

2:06 Spooooky. Nicely done.

2:55 Don't go up to ze castle Fort Lee!

4:40 Oh, Mary.

5:54 I love Simcoe's little wave, it's one of my favourite Simcoe moments.

6:20 Ben's malicious compliance. :P And another annoyance for the lowly fic writer. Where are you right now? Is it reasonable for Caleb to make a trip to Setauket and back? In two days? You're in New Jersey, is that nearby?

6:32 "The plan is we wait for him to post a signal, then I make contact." Yeah, by the way. How the hell would you know if he posted a signal. You're nowhere near there. Ignore me, I just actually had to make these logistics work and I'm salty about it.

6:40 Ooooh, Ben and Caleb tension. See? I feel validated in my headcanon that Ben is an insufferable superior. No consideration for the poor working courier.

9:38 "How do we know these ain't shams like the ones Tallmadge gave us?" "Because I'm telling you." So much in those two lines because honestly, I'm trying to remember now whether these are the same men who arrested Abe, gave him rough treatment, then tried to dig a bullet out of Simcoe's leg. They've been hanging around Ben this whole time, right? Where did they come from?? And then Caleb's "Because I'm telling you". I like that. 'I'm not in a uniform. So trust me.'

10:20 Shiiiiiiiiiiiips.

11:23 Abe eyeing a set of British soldiers warily reminds me a lot of playing AC III. West New York was a nightmare, they were everywhere!

11:41 What happened to Abe's mom anyway?

13:16 Wait a minute :D

16:20 Yessssss Anna, put Caleb in his place.

16:55 "To the four hinges of friendship: swearing, lying, stealing and drinking."

19:13 I had to do the math on that one, but I think it does work out.

20:21 "THIS ALE IS RATHER GOOD. AS IS THE MUTTON."

22:56 Mary/Bakerrrrrrrrr

23:51 'Well, well well. Look at you. Back in my barn.' Strongbrew <3 I miss you, I should write more for you.

27:53 Really appreciating the drama in the Woodhull family much more on this rewatch.

29:35 Oh yeaaaah the flag. I remember this now.

30:00 Heck yeah, Hessians. I actually like that they didn't translate their little chatter. It's nothing important, not really, (Although I love “Feierabend. Ich hab’ die Nase voll.” XD) but it's nice to hear soldiers chat.

34:19 Listen, Anna and Mary should have settled this whole thing in Season 1 and then gone on and been allies much sooner.

34:24 Omg they've been in stand-off all night. How does that even happen, does no one just get tired of it? It's like in the movie True Lies when a fight scene starts at night and ends in broad daylight, like, I don't believe that for a second.

35:53 "I do. I do trust you. And I need you to trust me." Oh, Caleb... And then Anna steps in to play Abe. How's that for an AU? Anna as handler? It’s not even an AU. She basically always has been, anyway.

38:45 Oh yeah. Taking the wide berth through inky waters underneath the docks to avoid soldiers on top? Yeah, this is textbook AC III.

39:22 Since I'm paying attention to day and night, we just did a bit of a time wobble there, eh? Daylight with Ben and his trainwreck, back to night for Caleb's escape, back to Ben for the wrap up.

40:09 Oh, Ben.

41:50 FAREWELL AND ADIEU, TO YOU SPANISH LADIES

[majorxmaggiexboy]

BIG pro of TerrorTurn is the opportunity for (not) DELAWARE DIVE: THE SEQUEL but the BIG cons of TerrorTurn are that while Ben has a proven propensity for Badassery and is an excellent shot in season one, not only does he have a major Despondency tendency which could take root pretty rapidly in this setting, but which could be mitigated by Caleb also being there, he’s also got that uhhhhhhh Bottle Up And Then EXPLODE tendency and that just, you know, delicate sprinkling of Go SLAM OFF On People, Authority Figure Included, When Feeling Pressed.

which uhhhh may not be the best Mix 

Ben Wouldn’t Do Great post cancelled bc i actually just remembered that he’s provably the luckiest pup in the TURN universe as far as multiple situations of Improbable Survival and failing to incur obvious consequences so weighed against the cons he’d land solidly in the top ten, maybe even top five.

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

The Distraction

Based on this request: Hi! Could I please request a TURN fic where the reader is part of the Culper Ring and is given the job of “distracting” Simcoe, much to her dismay. Eventually though, she ends up falling for him and him for her. Until it comes out that she is a spy and then Simcoe has to decide what to do with her? Thank you!

Here you are, lovely! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: TURN: Washington's Spies

Warnings: Angst, a little fluff??, a bit long. I may have gotten carried away.

Pairings/Characters: John Graves Simcoe x fem!reader, The Culper Ring

You stared between your two best friends and Anna Strong. "You must be joking," you stated. Anna looked ashamed while Caleb glared at Ben. Ben just kept his gaze on you. "Benjamin Tallmadge, you had better be joking!" you yelled, prompting Caleb to reach over and place a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Really I am. But Simcoe is getting too close. It won't be long before he figures out who Culper really is. He knows Anna doesn't have any real feelings for him. That leaves you to distract him. Throw him off course until we can make a plan."

The three of them looked at you with such hope that you groaned and agreed. You hated it though. You didn't even know who Culper was. "I hate you all," you muttered as they pulled you into a group hug. "If anything goes wrong at all, I will personally hunt you all down." They let you go, and scurried off. Now you had one job. Distract John Graves Simcoe, Lieutenant Colonel of the Queen's Rangers.

Finding the man was simple enough. Getting him to notice you was a little bit more difficult. You tried the more mundane ways such as "accidentally" losing your handkerchief, or nearly running into the man. Things like that. But nothing seemed to work. In the end, you knew there was one thing that was absolutely guaranteed to make him notice you. Have him be your valiant knight in shining armor.

"You sure about this, Y/N/N?" Caleb asked after you explained the plan to him. It had been weeks with no luck so you'd had Anna hang her petticoats to get Caleb's attention for you. "It's the only shot I have left, Caleb." He nodded with a sigh before kissing your forehead. "Alright then, off you go. I'll follow." Without any warning, you let out a shrill scream and took off running back to the town, Caleb hot on your heels.

You ran and screamed until you came upon Simcoe. "Help! Please!" You darted behind Simcoe just as Caleb appeared, rifle raised as if to shoot you. He pretended to freeze when he saw Simcoe before turning and running back toward his boat.

"After him," Simcoe ordered. He nearly ran as well, but you made sure you had a gently hold on his coat. Feeling this, Simcoe turned around, his blue eyes locking with your (e/c) ones. "Are you alright, Miss?" You felt yourself beginning to shake being so close to the man your friends had warned you was extremely dangerous. "I-I think so. He just appeared out of nowhere. Gave me such a fright."

"What were you doing alone in the woods?" You pretended to glance down at your feet in embarrassment. "I was gathering berries for my family. Before the winter cold comes. He came upon me so quickly." Simcoe smiled gently down at you as you finally let go of his coat. "Shall I escort you back to your home? I would not want anything unfortunate to befall you." You did your best to smile at him. You couldn't let him see how uncomfortable the situation made you. "I think that might be best. I clearly have a way of finding trouble, even when I'm not looking for it." He chuckled softly and offered you his arm.

Simcoe walked you home, promising to call again the next evening to check on you. Your father thanked him, cutting you off from doing so, but your eyes remained on Simcoe and his were on you. As he bid you goodnight, you knew you had accomplished your mission. You had his attention. Now all you had to do was keep it long enough for your friends to do what they needed.

*time skip*

After spending yet another afternoon with Simcoe(much to your father's delight), you bid him good evening and closed the door behind him. Then, you watched from the window as he walked back toward White Hall. He glanced back and you waved with a smile. The two of you had grown so close over the last few weeks. You couldn't believe you'd been so hesitant to meet him at first. John Simcoe was so much more than Anna had told you.

Yes, he was intense in everything he did. He fought for king and country with a zeal that was almost frightening. But he was so much more than that. Beneath the veneer of a soldier and monster, beat the heart of a lover. Even spending only chaperoned time with him you could tell that. He loved like he fought. With everything he had in him. After that first night when you grabbed his attention, he had begun showing you that he was still a man with desires and passions despite the war. He showed you that he was capable of a love you'd only every read about. And, to your shock, you found yourself wishing you could show him that type of love in return.

Oh, you loved John Graves Simcoe. That much was certain now, though you had no idea when it had happened. And you knew he felt something for you as well. But it was also a fact that once the man learned how it all started, he would despise you. You never thought he would find out so soon.

After a few weeks of spending time together, you found yourself sitting as Simcoe paced in front of you, his eyes wild with fury and fire that you had never seen before. In his hand, he held the message from Caleb that had been waiting for you. It felt as though the walls were closing in on you. The air in the room was thick and suffocating while the silence was deafening. You waited from him to say something.

"Joh-" you began, but he held up a hand to stop you. "Don't speak. I will not hear another of your lies." Your mouth snapped closed. He stopped pacing and turned his sharp gaze to you. "How long?" You furrowed your brows and he yelled, "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN A SPY?!" You jumped in your seat as tears began to form in your eyes. "I-I'm not a spy, Joh-Colonel. I swear. I was only meant to meet you, get to know you..."

"Distract me?" Knowing you were caught, you nodded. "I swear, I never spied. I know nothing about your movements nor Washington's. I was only meant to keep you busy for a couple weeks. Instead I found myself enjoying your company more than anyone else. That wasn't part of any plan. Developing feelings for you was never part of the plan. I was never meant to fall in love with you, John."

At that, Simcoe froze, his eyes still wide, but this time in surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You once again felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for him to reply. Anything besides the dead-silent stare he was giving you now.

"You're lying. You're still trying to distract me. To keep me off my guard." You shook your head. This time, the tears fell without permission. "I'm not lying, John. There is a lot I will lie about to protect the people I care about, but not this. I've admitted that our meeting wasn't by chance. I've admitted that I was used as a way to distract you from your hunt for Culper and before you ask, no, I don't know who he is. I have admitted to aiding the enemy, a hang-able offense. Why would I lie about this? I have nothing to gain by lying about my feelings for you. Whether you believe me or not is your choice, but I do love you."

You turned your face away from him as your tears began turning to sobs. It was all over. You had been caught and the man you loved didn't believe you loved him. The man you loved would be the one to tighten the noose around your neck.

John's POV

The fury began fleeing from him when he realized you were sobbing. Whether it was because you were scared for your life or because you truly loved him, he didn't know. But he hated hearing the shaky breaths coming from you knowing he was the cause of your distress. As angry as he was(and rightfully so), he was also a man in love who's heart had been shattered at the thought of you simply using him.

Could he send you to the noose for your crimes? They were crimes. Even though you supposedly hadn't spied on him yourself, your actions had allowed others to do so. But could he really send you to your death knowing that his heart belonged to you and you would take it with you when you were gone? Why did the thought hurt so much?

When Anna Strong had rejected him in favor of Hewlett, John was hurt of course. But nothing like this. This felt like he was shattering into a million tiny pieces. Was this what love truly was? Giving one person the power to feed or kill your joy with only a single word or action?

A particularly loud sob brought John out of his thoughts. You had produced a handkerchief and were trying to dry your eyes. With an almost unheard sigh, John pulled out his own handkerchief. He used his free hand to cup your chin and lift your face up to him. You blinked in surprise, but said nothing at first as John dried your tears, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What will you do, John?" you finally managed to whisper out after a few silent moments. "I-For once I am at a loss," he confessed, "You betrayed our king, yet you were not the ringleader. You know nothing of anyone's comings and goings, but you lied to me. You lied to an officer of the Crown and the man you claim to love. Yet, I don't know what to do."

It was your turn to sigh as one of your hands came up to gently grab his wrist. "I am sorry to have put you in such a position. I-I will do what I must. Either way, I do not suppose we will see each other again." You rose to leave, but John reached out to grip your hand. "What do you mean?"

"I must either run or turn myself in. That is the only way I will not be torturing you with this." John stood abruptly. Hearing that he may never see you again made his heart racing and all the walls guarding it to crumble. "No. I cannot accept that. No one but the two of us know, is that correct?" You nodded. John thought about your contact, but knew they couldn't say anything without implicating themselves as well.

"You cannot go. I couldn't bear it. The very thought would bring me to my knees if you were not here to ground me. Please," he declared, his voice dropping to a whisper," Please, do not leave. Stay. Stay by my side. I don't care about the lies. As long as your confession of love was not one of them."

You stared him, flustered, for a brief moment. Then, you took a small step closer and met his gaze. There was a fierceness there that made it clear you were telling the truth when you whispered into the quiet room, "It wasn't a lie. I love you, John Simcoe." In an instant, John's arms wrapped around you and he held you close. "Kiss me?" you asked. John smiled as he obliged his lady's request.

(a/n: I hope you like it! And thank you all so much for 267 followers! Tag lists for everything are open, if anyone is interested!)