#leverage redemption x reader

[01rocketboy01]

For The Con (Harry Wilson x GN!Reader)

Summary: To keep your cover, you and Harry have to use a tried and true method; one that leaves the both of you questioning your friendship.

Tags: First Kiss, Fluff, Fake Dating, Confession

Warnings: Canon-typical danger, canon-typical swearing, mild angst (denial of feelings), very vague innuendos

Word Count: 1.8K

“Those records have to be somewhere.” You tell Harry, searching through the filing cabinet as he clicks through the computer on the large, maple desk.

“Any help, Breanna?” Harry asks over comms, eyes scanning over the hundreds of files on the mark’s desktop, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Sorry guys, that computer’s on a separate network. Can’t access it. Hence the need to actually break into his office, old school.” Breanna’s voice comes through your earbuds, and you can hear her typing away on the other line, monitoring and looping camera feeds.

The party downstairs has provided good cover so far, Sophie managing to keep the mark away from his office by chatting him up over a glass of champagne. You and Harry had to sneak away after the party commenced, both wearing your formal clothes, and get into the office unseen. Wasn’t too hard to dodge patrols, but now the two of you had an indeterminate amount of time before a security guard stuck his head into the office to check up on everything.

“I think I got something.” Harry says, managing to sort through some of the recently opened files. He plugs in the USB drive, quickly copying what he needs onto it.

“Me too.” You pull out a file, flipping through it and taking pictures.

Bingo.

“Uh, guys? I hate to break up the party, but you’re going to have company in about 30 seconds.” Breanna warns.

Harry straightens up quickly, slipping the USB into his pocket, and you return the file and shut the filing cabinet.

“We don’t have enough time to get out of here unseen.” You say, turning to Harry. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” He answers quickly.

“Then go along with me.” You knock a few things off the desk, hopping up on it and grabbing the front of his blazer to pull him in.

“Put your hands on me.” You command him, and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Just-“ You yank him roughly, and he stumbles, nearly knocking you backwards as he braces his hands on either sides of your hips, standing between your thighs. Before he can back up, you crash your lips against his, a hand wrapping around his tie and the other hand running through his hair.

He’s surprised, at first, completely caught off guard by the suddenly passionate gesture, but he’s not an idiot. He figures out the game once he recovers from the shock, and wraps his arms around your waist, trying to be convincing but respectful as he kisses you back.

It’s easy to get lost like this, you realize. You thought this would be awkward, but your thoughts of possible discomfort are quickly dispelled as his body slots against yours, his hands splaying across your back as he continues to kiss you with a desperation that genuinely surprises you. It’s almost like he needs this. But even more surprising? You think you might need this too, as you catch yourself leaning deeper into the kiss and pulling on his tie, a gasp escaping his lips. Enough to make anyone flush.

“Excuse me?”

You pull away suddenly, as does Harry, breaking the spell. You’re both incredibly flushed, lips slightly red. Harry’s hair is a bit messy from where you ran your hand through it, sticking out at odd angles. You look over your shoulder as Harry looks past you, meeting the gaze of a very awkward guard.

“Oh! Sorry, we were just trying to…well.” You smile and clear your throat. “Trying to find somewhere quiet.”

“Well, you can’t be in here.” The guard says firmly, trying not to stare, but trying to be assertive. He doesn't seem like he's used to this. Must be a newer hire.

“We’ll get out, then,” Harry says breathlessly, nodding to you and swallowing thickly. He backs up, letting you get off the desk. Harry offers you his arm, and the two of you quickly walk past the guard and out the door, steering back towards the party.

As you both return, you glance over at Harry. Your eyes widen; his hair is still a mess. You gesture to him, glancing up at his hair and hoping he gets the message. He flushes slightly, running a quick hand through his hair to flatten it back down, and readjusts his tie to make it look a little less like you just had a make-out session. A fake make-out session. Right?

Sophie spots the two of you from across the room and smiles knowingly, raising her glass of champagne to you and winking.

“There’s no way she knows.” Harry says softly. “Right?”

“Comms. They all heard everything.” You respond, not trying to embarrass him more, but you knew that it would be an unintended side effect.

“That we did. Y’all nasty.” Breanna says, and you can practically hear the expression on her face.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You say, fixing your own hair. “We got out of there.”

“Yeah.” Harry agrees, clearing his throat. You can feel his eyes lingering on you, but you try to ignore him. Now is not the time, nor the place.

The rest of the party goes off without a hitch. Sophie gets the information she needed, and you and Harry manage to make off with the files safely. It's late when everyone gets back to HQ, and you find yourself just wanting to get out of these clothes and into the shower as you ascend the stairs.

Harry follows you up. "Hey, can we talk?" He requests quietly so the others can't hear. You pause on the stairs. "In private?" He specifies.

"Sure," You tell him, continuing up the stairs. He takes that as a signal to follow you, walking with you to your room. You let him in and then close the door behind you both, hopefully discouraging eavesdroppers. "What?"

"What do you mean, what?" Harry says, placing his hands on his hips. "Don't you feel like we need to talk about this?"

"No, I don't." You tell him, walking past him and over to your dresser to get out comfortable clothes.

"But that was... I mean, it was..." Harry struggled to find the words.

"It was what we had to do to get out of there. For the con." You say dismissively, pulling out a shirt and shorts. You don't look at him as you speak, because you know that if you do, he's going to make you confront this. You're going to have to confront this.

"So that's it?" Harry asks, and you can hear the slight hurt in his voice that pulls at your heart. "We pretend like that didn't happen?"

"It happened, Harry, but that's it. That's all." You tell him, shutting the drawer harder than you meant to. "We're friends. Just friends."

"Just friends. Right." Harry shakes his head, scoffing slightly. "I don't believe you."

"Believe what you want." You finally look up at him, trying to steel yourself.

"You're telling me you didn't feel anything at all?" Harry asks incredulously.

"I'm telling you it doesn't matter what we felt." You say firmly.

"So you felt something." Harry's eyes narrow slightly, and you feel as though he can see right through you.

"I don't know what I felt."

"Bullshit. You know exactly what that was and you don't want to admit it." He holds your gaze, and you can tell he's trying to read you. Trying to figure you out.

"Okay, fine. I enjoyed it. It felt good. Is that what you wanted to hear?" You ask him, crossing your arms.

"If it's the truth."

"It is the truth."

Tense silence settles over the two of you for a moment.

"I liked it too." Harry blurts out. He takes a deep breath. "I liked kissing you. A lot."

You kind of assumed that.

"I care about you, Harry." You tell him. "I care about our friendship. I don't want to ruin that."

"I care about our friendship, too." He responds. "But I can't just pretend I didn't feel what I felt. You might be able to forget and move on, but I can't."

"I can't forget." You say quietly, and it's true. These past few hours you've thought about that kiss more than is probably healthy. You've always been a bit distracted by him, but this is truly a new level of disturbance.

"Then why don't we try this?" Harry steps closer, gesturing between the two of you.

"What even is this?"

"I don't know!" Harry smiles, shaking his head. "That's what I want to find out. I haven't felt this way in a while, and I'd really like to explore that with you."

"Aren't you afraid?" You ask him, meeting his gaze. You want the truth from him.

"Of course I'm afraid." He says, reaching out and taking your hand. "I'm downright terrified. I don't want to lose you."

"I am too." You admit. "I don't want to lose you either. But...but I'm curious. I want to explore these feelings with you."

Harry's face breaks into a wide smile, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "Good. Do you want to get dinner, then? Sometime?"

"How about when this job is over?"

"Okay." He nods, releasing your hand. "Probably for the best. We're practically on call every waking hour until this guy goes down."

You let your hand fall, and quickly find yourself missing the warmth from his hand on yours.

"Well...goodnight." Harry says, slightly awkward and unsure as he heads to the door.

"Harry, wait." You follow him, and he turns around just as he reaches the door.

You grab his face gently and press a kiss on his cheek, causing his face to heat up quickly. He looks at you with surprise at the sudden, gentle gesture, and you find yourself not wanting to let go of his face.

"Thank you," Harry says softly, hands coming up to rest over yours on his face. "That's probably not the appropriate response to a kiss." He says, a slight realization dawning in his gaze as he sighs. "I'm not very good at this, am I?'

"On the contrary, I think you were doing quite good earlier." You tease him gently, watching the tips of his ears go red. You watch his Adam's Apple bob as he swallows thickly, acutely aware of how close your body is to his. "Perhaps you'd consider an encore?"

Harry's eyes widened slightly and he nodded. "Yes, I would. I would."

"We'll have to see where dinner takes us." You give him a quick peck on the lips, unable to resist, before you release his face. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight." He takes that as his cue to leave and quickly opens the door. He gives you a sheepish smile and an awkward little wave before shutting the door behind himself.

It's something new and unexpected, and you can't help but be excited for dinner as you gather up your things to shower. Hopefully, the job won't take much longer. You're not sure how long you can wait.

[make-me-imagine]

Comfort Headcanons {Harry Wilson}

Headcanons: How Harry comforts you when you are sad/hurt/etc.

Pairing: Harry Wilson x Gn!Reader (pre and established relationship)

Requested By: @spuffyfan394

Warnings: Brief/subtle mentions of trauma sad events, depression, general bad days, illness, etc.

A/N: These aren't very long, but I'm just trying to get something out, whether it be short or simple.

Harry often feels the urge to help anyone who is having a bad time.

And when it comes to you he would be right there the second he think's you need help.

Before you were in a relationship, he would make sure to be cautious with his help and comfort.

If you were in a bad place because of a job gone wrong or something else personal happening to you, he would try to cheer you up subtly, just trying to distract you.

You knew what he was doing of course, and you appreciated it.

Eventually, when you seemed to lighten up a bit, he would gently steer the conversation towards you.

Eventually, he'd ask if you were okay and would try to get you to talk about your feelings with him.

Luckily, he is very easy to talk to.

He listens well, and can tell if you want feedback, or just a listening ear.

If your heavy emotions linger, he will suggest stress relieving activities, or will bring you your favorite drinks, snacks, etc, just to brighten your mood.

It was these actions that helped you realize he might have feelings for you.

Once you were in a relationship, his ways to comfort you were more in depth, more personal.

Hugs, silent dances in the living room, hot baths, massages, cooking together, cuddling while watching movies or show.

He would buy you flowers, hold your hand, gently rubbing his thumb cross your skin.

You would still talk of course, about everything hurting you.

He had a very good track record of helping you cope with how you were feeling, and bringing you softly back into the light.

None of this was one way either. You were always there to comfort and help him too, often in similar ways.

xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Leverage Taglist: @groovy-lady, @aaannabbanana, @peoniarose, @fablesrose, @spuffyfan394, @malindacath, @winnifredburkleismyhero, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @bthtallmadge2, @hopecomesbacktolife

[bullet-prooflove]

Bourbon: Harry Wilson x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me

Summary: The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon... it's sinful.

Companion piece to:

Sugar - You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

The things you do with bourbon, they’re sinful.

Filthy, debauched, ruinous.

Those are just some of the words that Harry would use to describe what the two of you have gotten up to tonight with that bottle of O.F.C 1993, a whiskey so rare he spent ten grand at the charity auction to obtain it.

When you’d first suggested a private tasting after the event, he’d had no idea of your intentions, not until you’d unfastened the buttons of his shirt and dripped a delicate trail all the way down his chest to his dick. You’d driven him to delirium sucking the bourbon off his cock, his hands tangling in your hair as he thrust up into your mouth, the warmth from the whiskey heightening the sensation.

“Save it for me, mon cœur.” You had drawled, pulling off his dick with a lewd pop as he reached the precipice. “When you come tonight its going to be with me.”

You’d sunk down onto his cock, whisky bottle still in your hand and Harry’s head had tipped back into the couch cushions because the way you feel wrapped around him, there ain’t nothing like it on this God given earth.

You sip from the bottle, holding the bourbon in your mouth before you grasp his jaw and kiss him. The whiskey pours down his throat, that familiar fever erupting  in his chest as he licks the sweet bite of dark cherry and smoked oak right out of you.

His grip on your waist tightens, holding you steady as you lean back and tip the amber liquid onto your chest. A river cascades down the slope of your breast, coating your nipple as Harry captures it in his mouth. His tongue savours the taste, tracing over the sensitive bud as his dick pumps into you, a hard, relentless fucking for being such a bad girl. Your breath hitches and he chases that high by dipping his fingers into bourbon, smearing the liquid across the tips. He reaches between the two of you, tracing circles on your clit, the rapture blossoming from the luxurious heat of the whisky.

You clench around him as his teeth graze your nipple, a delicious blush of agony amongst of the ecstasy that sends you teetering over the edge, your sweet honey coating his dick. He lasts two more thrusts before he’s coming with you, his release spilling inside that pussy, marking it as his own.

“Best ten k I’ve ever spent.” He whispers into your ear, taking care not to nudge your hearing aid as his palm comes to rest on the back of your neck, keeping you close.

“Oh mon cher.” You tut, your lips brushing his temple as you study the half-drunk vessel residing on the side table beside the lamp. “We’re not done until that bottle is.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[art-by-jas]

Dancing

Harry Wilson x Reader

Summary: Harry's impromptu dance lessons in the kitchen lead to a spicy encounter.

WC: 1.4k

Rating: T

TAGS: Feelings confession, First Kiss

A/N: I am only on episode 4 so please be nice to me I'm fragile and don't have his characterization down yet. but if you enjoy don't be afraid to like and comment, thank you!

The kitchen is spacious, with granite countertops and dark wood cabinets. The radio is playing a soft, romantic melody. The setting sun's soft, golden light illuminates the kitchen. It glints off the tiles as it enters through the windows. The rain has just stopped, leaving everything with a delightful, fresh rain smell.

Harry walks up to you. He smirks. "May I have this dance?" He holds one of his hands outstretched to you.

You let out a slight chuckle, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I don't really know how to dance, Harry." You admit, looking down at your feet.

Harry grins at your admission, finding your shyness endearing. "That's alright. I'll guide you through it." He reassures you, taking your hand in his and gently pulling you closer to him. "Just follow my lead."

You nod, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as Harry leads you into a simple dance step. You stumble a bit, but he's patient with you, laughing softly at your clumsiness. "You're doing great," he says encouragingly. "Just relax and let go of any overthinking."

Looking up at him, you saw that Harry was gazing at you gently, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. As Harry continues to lead you in the dance, he can’t help but admire you. "You know, you're doing great," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. The soft sunlight streaming in through the windows dances across his features, enhancing the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiles down at you. His hands, warm and firm on your waist and yours on his shoulders, seemed to hold you even closer, keeping you balanced and secure in his arms. The kitchen was quiet except for the quiet music playing and their soft breathing.

You can’t help but smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you at his praise. "I don't feel like I'm doing great," you reply, blushing slightly. "I'm stepping on your feet."

Harry just chuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't worry about it," he says softly. He spins you around, effortlessly guiding you into a gentle twirl before pulling you back into his arms. The way he moves is graceful, and you can’t help but wonder where he learned to dance so well. As you lean into him, Harry's voice drops even lower, taking on a huskier quality. "You're a natural, cheri," he whispers. The words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a warmth pool in your chest as he uses the sweet nickname.

The name sounds even more endearing with his Southern accent, and you can’t help but smile at the way it sounds coming from him. Harry's eyes flicker down to your lips, as if drawn by some magnetic force. The tension between you seems to grow with each passing moment, and you find yourself staring at his mouth as well. The space between you continue to dwindle until your noses are almost touching, his face mere inches from yours.

The kitchen fades around you, leaving only the two of you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you were holding your breath, anticipating what was about to happen. Time seems to slow down, every second feeling like an eternity. Then, without warning, Harry closes the small gap between you and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft and tentative at first, but as the moments pass, it deepens, becoming more passionate and demanding. One of Harry's hands move up to cup your cheek, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entry, and you willingly part them for him. You forget all about the dancing, focusing only on the sensation of his mouth on yours. Harry's other hand moves down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. The kiss is a mix of slow, sensuous exploration and fiery need, leaving you both breathless and craving more.

Finally, he reluctantly pulls back, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. Harry's eyes met yours, and you can see a mixture of desire, affection, and maybe even a touch of surprise in them.

"Wow," he says softly, seeming slightly dazed by the intensity of the moment. "That was... something." He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb, his touch sending another shiver down your spine.

"Yeah," you whisper, barely recognizing your own voice. "It was." You can still taste him on your lips.

The room seems to slowly come back into focus, and you can hear the soft music from the radio again. But the world feels different now, as if the kiss somehow changed everything. Harry is still holding you close, his hand warm on your cheek, and you find yourself reluctant to move, wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

He caresses your cheek with feather-light touches, and you close your eyes, savoring the sensation. Harry's voice is tender when he speaks again. "You know, I've wanted to do that for a while now," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

The confession surprises you, and your eyes flicker open. You look at him, seeing a rare glimpse of softness in his expression. "You have?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Harry nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah," he replies, his thumb continuing its gentle caress on your cheek. "From the first moment I met you, there was just something about you that...drew me in." He pauses, seeming to weigh his words carefully. "And every time I spend time with you, that feeling just gets stronger."

The earnestness in his voice makes your heart flutter. "Harry, I-I didn't know you felt that way," you stutter, a mix of disbelief and happiness swirling inside you.

Harry's smile turns a shade more self-deprecating as he speaks. "To be honest, I wasn't sure how you'd react, given the age difference between us," he admits, a hint of insecurity in his voice. "I thought I was being a dirty old man for even thinking about you in that way." He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture perhaps.

You're touched by his vulnerability. "You thought you were being a 'dirty old man'?" you tease lightly, gently poking his arm. "And here I am, thinking I hit the jackpot because of your age." You wink at him, hoping he would see the playful flirtation in your eyes.

Harry's eyes widen slightly at your words, and a hint of disbelief washes over his face. "You...you're into the age thing?" he asks, an adorable blend of surprise and curiosity in his voice.

You nod, feeling a bit mischievous. "Absolutely," you confirm, smiling at his reaction. "I've found that older men are just...more attractive." You can’t help but relish the slightly shocked expression on his face.

Harry's mouth twitches into a small smile, the disbelief slowly melting away. "More attractive, huh?" he echoes, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Never thought I'd hear that from a gorgeous woman like you."

"Well, believe it," you retort, feeling a giddy thrill at the direction the conversation was taking.

Harry's smile widens, and he steps a bit closer to you, his gaze turning more intense. "You just might be a little minx," he teases, his voice deepening with a hint of a southern accent. "Playing with a man's heart like this."

"Who, me?" You feign innocence, batting your eyelashes up at him. "I would never." You try to keep a straight face, but the corners of your mouth are twitching with laughter.

Harry chuckles at your feigned innocence, clearly seeing through the act. "Oh, sure," he drawls sarcastically. "You're just a pure, innocent little thing, aren't you?" He reaches out and tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear.

A giggle escapes your lips. "Hey! I am innocent," you protest, swatting his hand away. "You're the one corrupting me here."

Harry laughs, clearly enjoying this banter. "Oh, am I corrupting you now?" he says teasingly. "I'm such a bad influence." He steps even closer, leaving only a few inches between you.

Your heart rate quickens as Harry closes the distance. "The worst," you retort, trying to maintain your playful tone despite the flutter in your chest. His proximity is intoxicating, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him.

Harry's eyes fixate on your lips as you lean closer, his gaze unwavering. He reaches up to lightly touch your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I can be much worse," he whispers, his voice dropping an octave.

MASTERLIST

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Eliot Spencer Moodboard

Eliot Spencer in Love

(Leverage Moodboard)

[security-chief-odo]

The Fake Dating Job - Chapter 4

Elliot Spencer x Reader

Previous chapters: 1 2 3

Note: Thanks for your patience. My life has been crazy as of late. In exchange for bearing with me, I offer you, probably my favorite chapter so far of any of my fics.

Word count: ~3.7k

Description: You and Eliot pine for each other throughout the reception. Will your ex get in the way of your happiness?

• • •

After the ceremony, you and the rest of the bridal party are asked to hang back for photos. As the rest of the guests file into the reception hall for the cocktail hour, Eliot makes a brief detour to give you a peck on the cheek. “See you inside sweetheart.” he says softly before rejoining the rest of the guests.

Your mind occasionally wandered to Eliot throughout the photo process, whereas his mind never left you from the moment that he left the bridal suite this morning. You looked gorgeous in the dress your sister had picked out for you. Maybe he could blame the dress for why he spent more time focused on you than on the actual wedding.

Though that is the beauty of this whole plan, there would be nobody to explain it to as he was supposed to want to stare at you. There would be no moment where Hardison calls him out for staring at you for a little too long. There would be no explaining, rather lying, to Parker about how protective he gets over you on a mission. There would be no knowing look across the room from Nate or well meaning advice from Sophie. There would be nothing but his own thoughts and delusions that you would ever want him to be more than just your fake boyfriend.

When the bridal party finally makes their entrance into the reception hall, his eyes are searching for you. Despite how happy you are for your sister, a feeling of relief nearly consumes you once you find yourself by Eliot’s side once again. Though, as you make your way to the table, your relief falters slightly at the realization of who you’ll be seated near. Your ex is seated at the same table as you, only two seats away.

Eliot’s warm embrace calms you though. This is what he was here for ultimately, to be a barrier between you and your ex. To make the night go better for you. And in a small way, he was already doing just that.

After the couple shares their first dance, dinner is served. You desperately try to avoid giving your ex any attention, and Eliot makes that easy. He eats slowly, taking time between bites to shower you with little bits of affection. His hand rests on your thigh through much of the meal and you hope that the flush that crosses your cheeks isn’t too obvious in the dim lighting. You could get used to these casual touches, if only they weren’t for show.

“How’d you like the food?” you ask, hoping that a bit of small talk can keep your wishful thoughts at bay.

“It was alright.”

That response alone was very telling so you quietly finish the sentence he was too polite to complete. “But you could’ve done better?” You raise your eyebrow at him as he half nods.

“I’m just sayin’ I know what these wedding caterers charge and they should take a bit more pride in their work.”

You can’t help, but chuckle at this as the DJ announces the father daughter dance. You turn your chair towards the dance floor to watch your father and sister share this moment and Elliot does the same beside you. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer to him. You can’t help but lean into the touch. You probably don’t need to do as much as you are to sell the act, but damn it, if this is your only opportunity to be this close with Eliot, maybe relishing in it a little isn’t a bad thing.

After the dance, cake is served and this time Eliot has no complaints. The cake is as close to perfect as any cake could be. As you finish, you remind yourself to ask your sister where she got the cake from so you could maybe stop by the bakery on your own before you leave town.

As the dance floor opens up, you take this opportunity to go talk to your parents. You haven’t had enough time with them this weekend and you really have missed them. Ever the gentleman, Eliot insists on tagging along to properly meet them. He is far too good at this fake boyfriend thing.

You greet your parents with a warm hug. “I’ve missed you guys!” you say trying to be heard over the music. “It’s been too long.”

“And whose fault is that?” your dad asks.

Your mom nudges him and gives a disapproving glare at his bluntness. “You should visit more. Maybe then it wouldn’t have taken so long for you to introduce us to this handsome fella.”

“I’ve been telling her the same thing.” Eliot steps in with the charm offensive in full force. “I’m Eliot.” He shakes each of your parent’s hands. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad things I suppose?” your mom asks teasingly.

“Hardly. She’s told me so many fun stories about your family. Though maybe a few of those stories could be classified as embarrassing.”

It’s nice to see your parents get along with Eliot, though it shouldn’t matter to you. You will have a fake breakup in a few weeks and this will be nothing but a memory for both of you. A damn good one too.

You’re broken out of that train of thought when you hear your mom reply, “Oh, is that so?”

“She’s got plenty of embarrassing stories of her own.” your dad adds in. Eliot lets out a hearty laugh at the prospect.

“Oh? Any worth telling?” You bury your face in your hands in fear of the mortifying words that may come next from either of your parents.

“How about you buy me a drink and I’ll tell you anything you wanna know about our dear Y/N?” Your mom suggests.

“Gladly” Eliot guides your mom to the bar and out of your earshot as you sit with your father.

You sit in silence at first, just enjoying the shared time. Minutes pass before your father speaks again, without even looking directly at you, “He’s good for you, you know.”

You figure the best way to avoid being caught in a lie is to just stay as close to the truth as possible, so you tell your dad your real thoughts on Eliot. “I know, he’s a really nice guy. He’s funny and caring. I really love him.”

“That’s not what I mean.” He turns to fully face you. “I just haven’t seen you this happy in some time.”

“Oh.” you say, stunned. This statement catches you off guard but luckily your father continues, so you don’t have to fill the silence.

“You seemed so sad before, especially with James. You used to force those tight lipped smiles that you thought we didn’t notice. This new guy has brought back your infectious smile. The one you don’t even seem to notice, you just do it.” He pauses slightly, “I missed that smile.”

This conversation comes to an end as your mom and Eliot return laughing loudly. Once he approaches the table, he stops in front of you. “Care for a dance?” He offers you his hand.

You gladly accept and follow him out onto this dance floor.You dance through several upbeat songs, joking and laughing at each other’s goofy dance moves throughout. For a moment, you forget how painful going back to normal life may be because having this much fun with Eliot reminds you how important your friendship is. The heartbreak could never break this bond. The bitterness of pining could never overpower the sweetness of these moments you share.

He spins you around and holds you close to him, your back to his chest. As you sway together to the music Eliot whispers in your ear, “You know, your mom told me some interesting things about you.”

“Oh god. What did she say?” You brace yourself for whatever ungodly stories from your youth your mom may have dug up for this occasion.

“Nothing too bad. I actually thought it was cute.” You turn in his arms to face him and raise your eyebrow as if to ask him to elaborate. “First she told me about the time you cut your own hair.”

You let out a chuckle, mostly in relief at how benign of a story that was. “I can still remember the terrible bangs I had in my school pictures that year. It felt like it took forever for those to grow out.”

“So is that why you convinced your sister to do the same just two years later?” He looks at you accusatorily and you know that your mom had to have given him more ammunition if he’s already digging in on the teasing.

You raise your hands defensively, “I just handed her the scissors and told her I thought she’d look cute with bangs. What she did after that is not my business.”

You wrap your arms around Eliot as you continue to dance as you bicker. “Oh I’m sure it was all her own idea.” His smile only widens as he continues, “She also showed me this picture of you as a kid where you were laying face first into your plate of mashed potatoes. It was cute. You’re still pretty cute when you get all sleepy like that.”

This catches you off guard because it’s just one more moment that’s a step past friendly without any reason for it. Nobody could really overhear your conversation over the music. He said that just for your benefit, or maybe just to sell the act. Maybe in a different life Eliot could have been an actor, he certainly played the part of lovestruck boyfriend pretty convincingly.

Trying not to focus much more on his words, lest their implications consume you, you add, “Did she tell you how I used to fall asleep at my bedtime so religiously I would sleep sitting up at family gatherings or in the cart at the grocery store?” He shook his head in response. “Yeah I wish I was still that committed to my sleep schedule.”

“Well ain’t that the truth sweetheart.” There’s a softness about him that is so rare and nearly indescribable. It’s a nearly magnetic force and you find it impossible to look away from him. It feels like if you even glance away for a second, the levity will be gone and the weight of the world will once again return to rest on his shoulders.

Soon you have to shift your focus as the DJ announces the bouquet toss. The men clear off the dance floor as all of the unmarried women gather. Sure, it doesn’t really mean anything if you catch the bouquet, but you find yourself reaching for it nonetheless. Maybe it was fate or maybe just luck or maybe it was set up by your sister considering her earlier remarks, but regardless the bouquet is in your hand and you’re staring down at it in shock.

Your sister hugs you and you know it’s going to break her heart when you and Eliot “split up.” Though by now, you’re too deep into it and so you have to act excited about this turn of events. A small part of you is excited though, the part that has clung onto every romantic moment this weekend as if it’s more than a fantasy. Perhaps that part isn’t so small.

On the side of the dancefloor the excitement over your purely hypothetical future builds in Eliot too. Fuck it. He won’t have many more chances to do this. He makes his way across the floor to you and happily pulls you to him, first in a tight hug, then into a lingering kiss. One that he has to hope you can’t just feel the sincerity of his desire dripping from.

You could get used to being kissed like this. Though, as your family is currently about half of the room, you pull away from Eliot, you can’t convince yourself to go very far away. Your foreheads rest against each other and the tension is palpable. Damn. He really is committed to convincing your family. He would have you convinced if you hadn’t been the one to set up this whole ruse.

Around you the dance floor fills again as the DJ turns on a slow song. You and Eliot hold each other close as you dance. Eliot softly sings along in your ear. His soothing voice slowly erases every worry you’ve had about this night. You feel safe and at home in his arms, and even if it won’t last, you can’t help sinking further against him. Truly if your heart must be broken, there’s nobody you would trust more to break it kindly.

You and Eliot are lost to the world around you as you both relish in what little time you have left to hold each other. That momentary bliss comes to an abrupt halt as the song fades out and you notice a presence looming just behind you. Just then you hear James’ voice behind you as his hand touches your back, sending a chill down your spine at your own unease. Speaking to Eliot he asks, “May I have her for this next one?”

Something seems off to him, but you reassure Eliot that it’s fine with a polite nod. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, of course this was never real so he should have been prepared for rejection, but it still stings seeing you in someone else’s arms. Maybe that’s why you invited him, not to avoid your asshole ex, but to make James jealous.

Eliot goes to the bar to drown in something other than his own self pity and insecurities, and is met with your mother inviting him to sit next to her. Despite his own feelings, he won’t ruin things with your family so he orders a drink and sits at the open stool she has offered him.

“You’re good for her, you know?”

“I try to be.”

“I mean it. She’s happier with you than she has been in a long time. She still thinks she doesn’t deserve you though.” your mom looks at him with a sad sort of smile.

“What?” he asks incredulously.

“She’s always been a worrier. You can see it in the way she holds you,” she pauses in thought before correcting herself, “in the way you hold each other. You’re both so scared the other will leave. You don’t think you deserve her either, do you?”

It’s a relief in a way to be able to be truly honest for once this weekend. “No ma’am. I can’t say I do. I’m happy to have her until she realizes that though, and that’s enough for now.” He waves to the bartender and orders a second drink.

“You’re both idiots, I swear.” Your mother lets out a long sigh. “Do you treat my daughter with kindness?”

Suddenly, under your mom’s gaze Eliot feels like he’s sitting in the principal’s office facing detention. He feels small. “Of course.”

“And you love her?”

“Yes.”

“So are you saying Y/N doesn’t deserve your kindness and love?”

“No ma’am.”

“Then pull your head out of your ass and stop acting like she’s going to leave you. That girl loves you, anyone could see that, so why are you sitting here with me at the bar, drowning your sorrows?”

He hangs his head in defeat, he couldn’t argue the point of your affections, not without ruining your plan, so he settles on the easier argument. “She already has a dance partner.” He gestures to the dance floor.

Your mom finally glances over to you and rolls her eyes. “God I’ve always hated that son of a bitch.”

Eliot can’t help the deep belly laugh that escapes him. Your mom cursing in anger is funny when it’s not directed at him. It’s then when you turn to where he can see your face, your features lined with sadness. His protective instincts finally kick in and he heads your way. He tries to hang back to get the full scope of the situation.

As Eliot was at the bar, your ex had been saying truly awful things. As Eliot reapproached, he continued. “He’s gonna leave you, you know?”

Eliot couldn’t make out any of what was being said, but he knew from the tension in your body that you weren’t happy. He’s kicking himself now for letting his own insecurities put you in the exact kind of situation he was here to help you avoid.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you plaster a fake smile on your face and through gritted teeth say “I fail to see how that’s any of your fucking business James.”

“I’m just looking out for you, babe.”

“Don’t call me that” you cut him off.

He continues, not acknowledging what you said. “I may have moved on, but I still care about you. You don’t deserve to be hurt when he finds a prettier girl and runs away with her.”

“Fuck off, James.” Eliot isn’t going to stay with you, but that doesn’t mean you need to tolerate James’ bullshit. You pull yourself out of his hold but he follows behind you.

Eliot quickly approaches as he sees this and is in earshot finally for the last insult James throws out. “You know, I don’t know why you bothered catching that bouquet. Nobody is ever going to love you, much less marry you.”

In an instant, James is grabbed from behind, turned, and pinned against the nearby wall. You barely hear the commotion behind you as you exit the reception hall and finally let a tear run down your face.

Inside all eyes are on Eliot and your family has gathered as he begins yelling at James, “What’s your fucking problem, man?”

All too cocky, James smirks, “Here to ask if you can have my current girlfriend when we break up? You clearly love my leftovers.”

That earns him a broken nose. Eliot’s fist makes sharp contact with his face and the blood from his nose quickly stains his white shirt. “You need to shut the fuck up and leave Y/N the fuck alone, or you’ll find out just how quickly I can break another bone.”

Ever the idiot James opens his mouth to reply, but, before he can, your sister yells at him, “Better yet, get the fuck out of my wedding.”

With the bride’s blessing, Eliot and your father drag James out to his car and, seeing he’s been beat, or perhaps fearing being beaten again, he leaves without another word.

He sees you sitting on a bench outside the reception hall and breaks into a jog, wanting to comfort you. He holds you to his chest as you gently sob. As much as you didn’t like that James was saying it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right, but you let that insecurity burrow further inside your heart as you realize something far worse. You probably just ruined your sister’s wedding.

You sit up abruptly and wipe the tears from your face, “I need to go apologize to my sister.” You run inside, leaving Eliot to slowly follow, though he washes your ex’s blood off of his hand before re-entering the reception hall.

Your eyes scan the room and finally land on your sister. The anxiety makes the words practically spill out of your mouth, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a scene at your wedding. I know I can’t make it better, but I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Both of you are crying now. “You didn’t ruin anything. I shouldn’t have let him come, even if he was dating one of the other bridesmaids. If anything you fixed the wedding by getting rid of that piece of shit.”

“Well I’m pretty sure the getting rid of him part was more Eliot than it was me.” you chuckle. He walks up behind you, as if summoned by the mention of his name.

He looks toward your sister and her now husband as he wraps his hand around yours. “I am so sorry for,” he pauses and gestures vaguely towards the spot he had pinned James, “well, all of that really.”

Your sister laughs, “No need. We’ll just call it dinner and a show, and it was quite the show.” she leans in towards you both and in a far more serious tone adds “I heard from some of the others what he was saying before. You did the right thing, you could’ve gone a bit further to teach him a lesson if you ask me.”

He looks to you, now remembering that your ex had plenty of time in his absence to say far worse than what Eliot heard. “Wish I would’ve.” he lets out a nervous laugh, still unsure where he stands with everyone else. “I’m just glad he’s gone though and can’t cause any more trouble.”

Your sister replies, “Agreed. Though maybe try not to hit anyone at the next wedding?”

“I think I can manage that.” He smiles, glad to see that everyone is still in good spirits.

The groom, also seeming to relax, throws in, “You’d better because if those flowers are anything to go by, it’ll be your own.”

Eliot wraps his arms around you, and with more sincerity than you were prepared for says, “Hopefully.”

Trying so hard not to get lost in your imaginary future with Eliot, you change the topic. “Your wedding was really beautiful by the way. Congratulations.” You hug your sister. As you pull away, you lean back against Eliot and say. “I think it’s time for us to go back to the hotel though. I think we’ve created enough of a story tonight.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “Have a good night. Thank you both for coming.” Then as you walk away, your sister calls after you, loud enough for about half the room to hear, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, lovebirds.”

This leads to a few hoots and hollers from the other guests, just trying to tease and embarrass you further. You flip your sister off as Eliot guides you out of the room.

• • •

Next chapter

Let me know what you think!

Taglist: @mini-kunoichi @javicstories @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @being-worthy @xkell-bellx @imaginecrushes @sleeplessskeleton on @fablesrose @unholyhuntress @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fictional-hooman

[nyokuro]

I need an Eliot Spencer X Reader fic where reader is on the team and having to flirt with a mark and Eliot does not love it.

If this exists please share a link.

If not, someone please write it.

[ineffabledesiretobeasleep]

Oh fuck me I have been rewatching so much Leverage/Leverage: Redemption while packing and have absolutely succumbed to Eliot Spencer brain rot.

I woke up this morning half formed story in head and it was the only reason I bolted awake on time for work. I already started typing it on my notes app.

It’s a small fandom here but if I finish it I’ll try to post it

[hesthermay]

[brooklhyn]

Eliot Spencer and What I am Learning About Myself

A poem about my brother that isn't making it in my poetry book

I have little time on my hands, so much of what I consume has a purpose.

My food is treated like medicine (six brazil nuts a day...), media is an opportunity to learn what is happening, books and tv fill in the gaps of my knowledge from economics to how to cook for my elderly neighbors. You get the point.

My heart has dipped low, weighed down with the collected tears of the world in her pocket, looking for joy in a shadowy street.

I try not to give myself passes. After all, people giving themselves passes often leaves other lives at chance in my line of work. But reason and wisdom peak my interest. In the swoop a half-sided smile, I'm sent into the cold with a prescription for laughter.

With comedy quiet for the sleepy winter, somehow, I find myself transported back to a room of younger me with the click of a dvd in the player. It's not family movies- don't be so naive.

I have fragmented memories of these stories- they are seemingly more politically prolific today than I remembered. But what catches my attention is the man with the dedication and calmness. He reminds me of someone- he did back then too.

Living a 1,000 lives in the last fews years has set me on this hunt to dissect who I once was. I didn't remember until recently but the room younger me was sat in was one of expectation- waiting for the door to open and me to be swept up into open arms, circling around me with assurance that was safe.

Back then, I could tell myself he was off liberating Croatia. Now, my tears fill my heart as I know that his dying day came before my own.

[thegeeksideofsr]

So, I just had a thought.

A thought about Redemption Era Eliot with Ford!Reader, and maybe their kid/kids, specifically the part where we meet his dad.

The Dad that he never talks to her about, no matter how hard she tries. The one he left with out a word to go see out of the blue.

Where they are in the middle of the job when she arrives, how she found them nobody knows, and she is fumming. She and Eliot have a talk in the yard, a rather loud talk, one his dad hears from the back door.

He hears how his son just left his home, a note on the counter that he'd be back in a few days, then the whole team disappearing. How he promised his kid that he'd be there to tuck him in and he wasn't. That he couldn't just up and leave any more. Not now that he had a family and responsibilities past the team, and that he should have told her where he was going.

She finally finishes and stomps into the house, leaving Eliot standing in the yard, passing his dad, not knowing who he was.

His dad coming to stand next to him, both quiet for a while, before he asks who the fired up woman was.

Eliot smiling at the question, before telling him that she was his daughter in law, and mother to his grandkids.

.

.

.

.

But, ya know, just a thought

[01rocketboy01]

Too Close (Harry Wilson x GN!Reader)

Summary: After Harry is almost injured on a job, an argument reveals feelings that have been left unsaid.

Tags: Confession, First Kiss, Fluff

Warnings: mild angst (argument), discussion of possible injury, discussion of possible death

“That was too close, Harry. Too close.” You told him, setting down your bag on the counter of the bar heavily, the equipment rattling loudly inside as you set it down harder than you needed to.

You pulled out your earbud, stuffing it in your pocket. The rest of the team was getting food and didn’t have their earbuds in, but you didn’t want them getting back on coms and snooping anyway. You had planned to come back to HQ alone, but Harry had insisted on following you back because clearly something was bothering you.

“What was too close?” Harry asked, following your lead and setting down his much lighter bag on the bar as well. “We all got out of there fine, as far as I can see. No broken-“

“That guy almost gutted you like a goddamn fish! And you’re trying to tell me everything is fine?” You cut him off, startling him slightly as you raise your voice. There’s a tinge of guilt in the pit of your stomach, but it’s quickly replaced by anger and concern.

“Eliot got to me in time. Not even a scratch!” Harry smiled awkwardly, trying to ease the tension. It doesn’t work.

“What if Eliot hadn’t been there?” You cross your arms, facing him. Staring him down.

Harry shrugged, a quick, unintentionally dismissive gesture. “I would’ve been fine.”

“No, no you wouldn’t have.” You narrow your eyes, approaching him slowly. “You aren’t like Sophie, you can’t talk your way out of everything. You’re not like Eliot, you can’t punch your way out of everything. You don’t carry a taser. What would you have done?”

Harry meets your gaze, eyes widening slightly. He looks hurt. “You don’t trust me.” He says softly. “You don’t think I’m very capable, do you?”

The look in his eyes sting more than his words as your anger stutters slightly in its steps. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that you got too deep in the con, okay? And it got too hot.”

“Why don’t you trust me?” Harry asks, stepping towards you. “I understood in the beginning, but now? I’m not helpless, I’ve proven that I’m not helpless.”

“I’m not saying you’re helpless I’m just saying-“

“What I’m hearing is you think I can’t take care of myself-“

“No, that not-“

“Would you be saying this if it was Sophie? Or Parker, or Eliot, or Hardison? Or even Breanna?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that-“

“I just don’t understand-“

“You could’ve died!” You yell suddenly, voice ringing over Harry’s and causing him to shut his mouth quickly. “You could’ve been hurt or died and I can’t—I won’t live with that. I won’t let that happen.”

Harry seems dumbfounded, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. You turn from him, pulling open your equipment bag. You need to busy yourself. You need to get away from here.

Harry approaches carefully, hands up in gentle surrender. “Hey, I’m okay, alright? I’m not dead.”

“I know.” You snap quickly, digging around in the bag.

“Please, look at me.” Harry says quietly, standing next to you. You huff slightly, resolutely turning to face him. The concern in his eyes nearly melts your heart. “What’s going on?”

“I just…” You swallow thickly. How much are you willing to say? How much are you willing to admit? “I care about you. I worry about you. I hate seeing you hurt. And you almost…” You trail off, looking away.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Harry says gently, holding out a hand. “Can I have your hand?”

“What?” You look at him, a little confused.

“Just…please.” He says pleadingly.

You oblige, giving him your hand. He takes it, placing your palm on his chest, slightly under his blazer and over his dress shirt. You can feel his heart thrumming underneath your fingers, and the heat emanating from his body.

“I’m right here.” Harry says softly, catching your gaze and drawing it to his eyes. “I’m okay.”

“Your heart is beating a little fast.” You tell him, unconsciously syncing your breathing with his in the close proximity.

Harry chuckles slightly, eyes wrinkling up. “But it’s beating, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You sigh softly, not pulling your hand away. The feeling of his heart calms your own, grounding you.

“Why do you…care so much? About me?” Harry asks very genuinely. “I mean, you care about everyone, you get upset when anyone is hurt. But with me, it’s just always…more.”

“I didn’t like you at first.” You tell him, and his eyes widen ever so slightly. “It’s true. Didn’t trust you. But every so slowly you wormed your way into my heart. And before I knew what was happening, there you were. And here I was. And I…” You pause, gathering your thoughts. Gathering your courage. “I fell in love with you. It’s stupid, but I can’t do a thing about it.”

“You…what?” Harry is aghast, mouth falling open slightly. “With me?”

“Forget it.” You pull your hand away as if you were burned, taking his surprise as rejection. As mockery.

“No, no-“ He places a hand on your shoulder before you can turn away. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t a good response, I’m just…” He shakes his head. “I love you too.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, blinking slowly in confusion.

“This is not-“ Harry chuckles, eyes wrinkling up once more. “Not how I thought this discussion was going to go? This is a lot more awkward, than I-“

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close to you as if you’ve been waiting to do that for a very long time. He freezes for a second before he wraps his arms around you as well, hand coming up to cradle your head gently. You pull back slightly to look him in the eyes. He looks back at you, the moment charged with a lot of words that could be said. Until finally, he speaks.

“Can I—may I kiss you?” He asks sheepishly, almost with the energy of a nervous teenager on a first date.

Your response is to press your lips against his, eyes fluttering shut as you savor the feeling of his lips tenderly. He kisses back quickly, one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your head.

You both pull back after a second to look at each other once more, breathing softly against each other’s lips, the spell unbroken. His eyes flicker down from your lips back up to your eyes, and it’s less than a second your lips are crashing together, much more desperately this time. Your hands grab the front of his blazer as you both stumble back against the bar, kissing him like you’re about to lose him. You want to memorize this feeling.

As you both break for air, panting slightly, he smiles, looking at you with lingering concern. “You okay?” He asks softly.

“Yeah.” You respond just as softly, lips still ghosting over his. “I just…didn’t realize how much I wanted this.”

“Me neither.” He says, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’d like to do that more often.”

This makes you laugh quietly, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Whoa, okay!”

You and Harry nearly jump out of your skins as you whirl around to see that the team has returned from getting food, all of them startled, but none of them particularly surprised.

“Wondering how long it was gonna take.” Eliot says with a half smile that quickly disappears when Sophie holds out her hand. He grumbles and digs in his pocket, giving her a wad of cash.

“You betted on us?” Harry asks, clearing his throat and trying to adjust his tie.

“Of course.” Breanna said with a shrug, walking over to the table and setting down a bag of food. “Are you two like…a thing now?”

“Well, I think maybe that’s the type of thing you discuss over dinner.” Harry turns to you, holding out his arm. “Would you like to?”

“Yes.” You take his arm, face still slightly flushed from embarrassment. “Please.”

Sophie smiled and shakes her head, tossing you a look as you walk out into the courtyard with Harry.

“So. Hungry?” Harry asks, leading you out onto the sidewalk.

“Yes. I could eat.” You say with a grin, giving his arm and affectionate squeeze.

[make-me-imagine]

Camera roll while on vacation with Eliot

Camera Roll while on vacation with Eliot Spencer

A/n: Let's pretend he got a haircut halfway through the vacation, and that's why his hair length changes in this lmao

Requested by: @spuffyfan394

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Leverage/Eliot Taglist: @groovy-lady, @aaannabbanana, @peoniarose, @fablesrose, @spuffyfan394, @malindacath, @winnifredburkleismyhero, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @bthtallmadge2,

[bullet-prooflove]

Sugar: Harry Wilson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

Summary: You're Harry's first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

You like the beard, Harry can tell from the way your eyes light up when you see him standing there on the porch of the little white house your Nana left you. The scent of geraniums floods his sense from the flower boxes fixed underneath your windows. This whole place is an oasis, carefully cultivated greenery neatly organised around the porch swing you sit on sometimes to read. You’d shared your first kiss on that swing before making love to him amongst the Eden that you had spent decades creating, shielded away from the prying eyes of your neighbours.

“Did you miss me Sugar?” He asks in sign language and you hold up your thumb and forefinger to indicate a little bit.

He’s been away touring colleges on the East Coast with Bex for the past couple of weeks. He’d checked in every afternoon to see what was going on with your day but seeing you standing there before him in those denim cutoffs, that white gypsy shirt clinging to your curves like it was made for you, it hits a hell of a lot different.

“I missed you.” He says using his index finger to point to his chest, his chin and then at you.

He’s surprised you this morning, it’s why you don’t have your hearing aids in. You often spend the first couple of hours of your day pottering around without them, enjoying the peace you tell him. New Orleans is a busy town and sometimes the noise can be over stimulating if you aren’t mentally prepared for it.

“You’ve been practicing.” You tell him, using your hands to form the words as you vocalise. It’s a learning technique, something to help him pick up ASL easier outside of his classes. “Your movements are a lot more fluid, less stunted.”

“I have.” He says looping his arm around your waist, drawing you close. He tilts his head down so you can read his lips as he speaks. “I practiced every night before I went to bed and dreamed of you.”

“And what did you dream?” You ask him, your nose grazing his as he walks you backwards over the threshold.

“Well Sugar.” He smiles with a devilish look in his eyes. “Let me show you.”

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[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 21

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: Venomous Trust

Notes: 👀 Actually scared to let this chapter loose.

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  21/47

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

In the morning, you woke up by the noise the Monk was making by putting on the belts that carried his weapons. As if by instinct you touched his cot and felt that it was still a little warm.

He had noticed you doing so and came closer while he put his cloak on. “Have you slept-”

The Monk was interrupted by a paladin calling out for him outside of the tent. He told the paladin to enter and you sat up immediately, something that he found amusing to see.

It was Brother Adam who walked into the tent and his eyes fell on the cots that were placed together, with you still sitting up on one of them. “Uhm-”

“What is it?” The Monk ignored the baffled expression of the young paladin.

Brother Adam composed himself. “Fey refugees have been found, they were stopped before they could reach their destination. We believe he will come looking for them.”

He gave a nod. “I will go alone. Fey scouts will detect us and warn him otherwise. Inform Father. Go.”

“Yes, Sir.” Brother Adam hurried out of the tent.

You swung your legs over the edge of the cot to sit. “Who were you speaking of?”

He made no secret of it. “The Green Knight. An enemy of the Church for many years, and now he has allied himself with the witch.”

The name rang a bell in your memory. “My father spoke of him, he had tried to capture this knight when he saw him in a village near Ravenwick but failed to do so. I remember how angry he was, apparently my father could have gotten a lot of coin in exchange for the Green Knight.”

There was no doubt in him about it. “The Church would have paid a large sum for the Green Knight. Father wants him alive, this complicates the matter. The knight has escaped me not long ago, I will not fail again.”

It had sounded like there was a personal grudge there, like it had dented his pride to fail in capturing this knight. “From what I’ve heard, this knight is a formidable fighter. You shouldn’t go alone.”

A smug smirk grew on his lips. “He has Fey scouts reporting back to him, if I do not go alone he will be notified of the presence of paladins in the forest. I cannot allow him to be alerted.”

You were quiet for a moment, remembering why exactly the knight was seen as one of the Church’s greatest enemies. The Monk noticed your strange silence and looked at you inquisitive.

“This Green Knight is known to protect the Fey.” you stated.

He sensed a question coming. “Yes.”

“What if you did not find him?” you left it open for interpretation.

He understood what you were suggesting right away. “Do not ask this of me. I cannot disobey this order. Capturing the Green Knight will give Father the leverage he needs to receive the Pope’s further support on the mission.”

“You’re going to capture a good man, a man who has saved countless people from death.” You tried to stay calm to reason with him. “And what will happen once you do? What will Father Carden do with him?”

His eyes gave him away. “This must be done. It is necessary.”You sounded so tired of holding on to that bit of hope that he could see beyond the scriptures. “It isn’t. But you cannot see it.”

He felt an argument coming and sighed. “I will see you tonight.” he tried to jest, “Try not to find yourself in trouble whilst I am gone.”

Your eyes fell away from him, that guilt fought against your emotions again. He was barely balancing on the line of light and darkness, and often you believed he had finally decided on a side only to jump back on that line. And when he was in the light, when he showed you the compassion and kindness he was capable of, your heart was full and content. But when the darkness clouded that light…

The Monk came to your side and touched your cheek with his fingertips. “I know…”

That sorrow in your eyes every time the monster in him had to crawl to the surface in the name of duty… it was physically painful to see.

“I wish you did not have to know.” he uttered.

“I do need to know.” You took a deep breath. “I need to know what you are and what you think. Because if I didn’t know all of it, I would just see a monster. What I see now is a man who is desperately holding on to a faith that will spit him out once it no longer needs him.”

He opened his mouth to speak.

You spoke first. “You fight all the time, and yet forever live in fear. Not of the battle, but of the ones you fight for.”

Frustrated, he turned and headed for the exit of the tent.

You hated to see it. “I want to spare you from the burdens your conscience will have to carry! It will destroy you!”

He halted just before the exit, his back facing you.

“Please.” You got up and approached him. “Please, do not give them your life. I know you are doing this to earn salvation, but your path to it is build on blood and ashes. How can one enjoy a peaceful afterlife if it was earned by doing this?”

He turned just enough to take your hand in his with a light hold. A few seconds of heavy silence passed. “This life is all I have known. I have never hidden what I am from you.”

That was quite true. “It’s not the monster you’re hiding, it’s the man I see when you look at me the way you are doing now.”

His jaw tensed, emotion flashed in his eyes before he averted them from yours.

“Will you still be here when I return?” He did not sound certain of it.

You gave him a truthful answer, “For now, yes.”

He nodded, understanding that not many would be so inclined to understand the situation. “I pray you will be. I desire your company, even as I travel.”

That wasn’t something you expected him to say. “Are you saying that you miss me when you’re not with me?”

He saw no reason to lie. “Yes.”

It left you speechless. “Oh.”

He squeezed your hand. “Was that not clear?”

You were trying to calm your nerves down before he would take notice of them.

A small smile crept on his face. “I shall be back soon. I will see you then.”

He turned again to leave. If this Green Knight was as good a fighter as you were told he was, this could end badly for the Monk.

You took hold of his arm. “Wait…”

He looked at you, seeing the intent in your eyes when you got closer. He did not move a muscle when you leaned in and pressed your lips to his cheek.

His heart felt like he had run up a hill. To feel your warm breath grace his skin was a blessing.

“You may be trying to earn your place in God’s garden, but do not go there yet. Please…” You took a step back again. “Return safely.”

Leaving after this felt impossible. When had you begun to look at him like this? Surely he was fooling himself into believing that it was adoration he saw present in your eyes…

He gave an inclination of the head and walked out of the tent before he could be tempted to stay.

  ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  You had put the pouch of willow bark into your satchel, and put the bowl of dried ointment on your cot to help remind yourself to ask the Monk for some herbs to make another ointment. You had taken the liberty to put your mother’s journal in the satchel as well. When you were scribbling in your journal, you often noticed a commotion coming from outside. The paladins sounded rather distressed about something. You went to the entrance of the tent to try and see if you could hear them. The thick fabric of the tent muffled out most of the noise and you were left curious as to what was going on out there. That curiosity lasted until four paladins entered the tent, grabbed you, and led you out of the tent. You recognized the strange looking soldiers wandering around the camp in the distance, Pope Abel’s Trinity Guard was present, and these paladins were careful to avoid crossing paths with them. They had brought you to another tent filled completely with all sorts of things, it was clear this was meant just for storage. Had they brought you here to hide you from the Trinity Guard? It was the most likely explanation. They had shackled your ankle to one of the wooden poles making up the structure for the tent. There you were, sitting between a basket of apples and a sack of dirty linen. More than mildly annoyed at the situation, you considered tossing the apples all over the tent, but at least you had something to eat. Luckily so, because you hadn’t expected that they would leave you in that crammed tent for hours. And when they finally came to collect you again, upon exiting the tent, two Trinity Guards awaited them. The order was clear to the paladins, they were expected to follow them. They did not take you far.

“Only her.” The Trinity Guard stopped them at a large tent, allowing only for you to continue heading inside.

“Me?” you blurted out.

“Go.” One of the paladins told you, looking very unnerved by the masked soldiers.

Carefully you walked up the steps and into the tent. Father Carden and a man sat at a table, drinking something.

“Ah. Here she is now.” Father Carden was quick to rise from his chair and approach. “Abbot, this is the Lady of Ravenwick and the wife of our Weeping Monk.”

You were trying to understand the situation, but you knew one thing. This Abbot could not learn of your Fey heritage, it would endanger the Monk as well.

The Abbot did not rise from his chair, he simply gave an inclination of the head to greet you. “It is a pleasure to meet the woman for whom the Holy Father has made an exception. A monk marrying has been unheard of until now, I must confess I was surprised when the Holy Father informed me of this grand gesture towards the Weeping Monk for his continuous efforts.”

He was looking at you expectantly and you wondered if speaking was even wise now.

You decided to play the part and bend your head respectfully, acting like a quiet and timid person. “Pleasure to meet you as well, Abbot.”

Not a word more came from you.

Father Carden filled the silence. “The marriage between them will serve our purpose well. In time she will inherit the village of Ravenwick, an excellent location to replenish our resources.”

The Abbot hummed in approval. “I had thought that was the intent behind this. Ravenwick is known for it’s trading.”

You kept very quiet, pretending to be too shy to even look at the Abbot.

“Why were you hiding her?” he questioned Father Carden.

Father Carden understood what sort of act you were putting on and took use of it. “She is frightened quickly. Our wagons were attacked by the Fey not long ago, it has left an impression on her.”

“I see.” The Abbot gave a nod and beckoned for his Trinity Guard to come and collect you. “Then we shall not continue to bother her.”

A Trinity Guard took hold of your arm, gentler but firmer than the paladins had, and led you out of the tent. He handed you over to the waiting paladins again, who then took you back to that crammed tent. Father Carden must have feared that the unrest among the paladins would make it easier for sellswords to intrude in the camp, ordering the paladins to hide you somewhere different than in the Monk’s tent was a rather clever decision to keep you out of their grasp. They would waste too much precious time searching for you.

It must have been around midday, because not much later they did bring you some soup to eat. And whilst you ate the soup, you could have sworn you heard the voice of the Monk and Father Carden. Eavesdropping was not a polite thing to do but the fabric of the tent was not as thick as the one of the Monk. You moved as close to the entrance as the shackle allowed and were able to overhear some of their conversation.

Father Carden was speaking to the Monk. “She behaved obedient when she met the Abbot. You have done well to gain the girl’s trust as I have asked of you. Her loyalty to you will serve us all well. I knew you would not fail me on this.”

You swallowed hard. They must not have been aware that this was the place the paladins had decided to hide you in. What did the priest mean?… Had he truly ordered the Monk to ‘earn’ your trust?… A sick feeling nested in your stomach.

Father Carden coughed a few times, then spoke again, “Does she know what sort of power she truly holds?”

“No, Father.” The Monk said. “I have not told her.”

“Good.” The priest continued to speak. “The flames that held the power to forge the strongest sword, are now ours. We need to salvage her power before it is too late. This Wolf-Blood Witch and her allies must be stopped! We need the Fey Fire, we will strike them down with their own magic. We will burn their camps with their unholy fire. She trusts you, use that to our advantage and we will be victorious.”

“Her power is not strong enough to forge us weapons yet.” The Monk said.

Father Carden came to a halt. “You had weeks with her to fulfill the task I gave you. We need her fire!”

You held back a shocked gasp. Weapons?!? Burning camps?!? They wanted your power for destruction… not healing… And he knew… he knew… he lied…for weeks.

“Bring us our victory.” Father Carden spoke viciously. “Earn your place in God’s garden, my son. Make the girl forge you a weapon with the Fey Fire that no one can stop. Reap your reward, you have worked hard for it. The first weapon will be yours to wield.”

  “Yes, Father.”

    Your appetite was completely gone. Every time you had asked him if he knew why Father Carden was so interested in the Fey Fire, every time you had asked him if he knew more about it, he had lied. And now you understood why, you understood it all. The reason why Father Carden was so determined to keep you in his grasp, the reason why the Monk had been kind to you, all of it…

He had told you Fey Fire was used to heal, but the truth was that it was a weapon of destruction that the world had not seen in so many years. He knew… he always knew. You were not just wanted for being of the Ash Folk, for your heightened sense of smell, but for the destruction they would force you to bring. Fey Fire would create them weapons to kill the Fey. They wanted your magic and to have it they had gone to extreme measures. He was ordered to earn your trust, to manipulate you into becoming a weapon just like him. Just so he could make Father Carden happy. And you had fallen for it, for the lies and the deceit. Just like the priest, he played a cruel game. The way he had crossed lines and took advantage of your trust… In the beginning you had feared this happening, but the Monk had sounded and acted so genuine. His ingenuity only came to light when you were out of sight.

A deep sense of hopelessness threatened to overpower you, forcing you to take a couple of deep breaths. The warmth on your cheek alerted you to the tears that had broken free against your will. The only thing you had in this world, and it was a lie, an order of the cruel priest. You went back to the pole and sat down before your shaking legs could decide to send you to ground instead. There were no allies here, it was time to flee this hell before they could make you part of their army of monsters. In the evening, when the night would aid you in your escape, you would leave and end this cruel game.

        Another hour went by before paladins came and took you out of the tent again, they made certain it did not look as if you were a prisoner there. And you knew better than to try and run when the camp was filled with Trinity Guards who would not bat an eye before killing a Fey. They took you straight to the Monk’s tent and you found him waiting inside for you. In that moment, you preferred to be back in that crammed tent instead of near him. He looked troubled, but you didn’t allow yourself to care. The paladins left as soon as you were inside.

He got close to you right away. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” It took so much to lie, to pretend that everything was still the same as when you last saw him. But if you wanted to have a chance to escape, it was wise to let him believe all was well between you.

Something in your voice had caused alarm in him. “Don’t lie. What is wrong?”

Goodness… was it that obvious?

You fed him another possible reason. “Father Carden had me meet the Abbot.”

He hummed, understanding how unpleasant that must have been. “I met him as well. Father is not pleased with the presence of the Abbot and the Trinity Guard either.”

You moved past him towards your cot, tempted to grab your satchel there and then and make a run for it, but you had to wait for the right time. You sensed him walk closely behind you.

He gently caught you by the wrist, sounding effectively persuasive. “Come here for a moment.”

After what the Green Knight had said to him, he sought some comfort, a distraction that could put his mind at rest again.

You swallowed down the urge to rip your wrist free, you had to be patient, just a little longer until evening. He drew you in closer again, collecting your hand in both of his. A rag was tied around his right hand, it looked like it had been bleeding. It was very unexpected when he knelt down and brought you closer by the waist until he could rest his forehead against your abdomen. Something must have happened and even now that you knew of his betrayal there was still the urge to help, it would take a while to get used to ignoring it.

His forehead brushed against you. “I have caught the Green Knight. He knows of the Ash Folk, he knows what I am.”

This was not good news. “Did he tell them?”

His hand kneaded at your waist a bit, it soothed some of his anxiety. “No. His loyalty towards Fey-kind stopped him from doing so, and I do not believe he will. He tried to tempt me into siding with the Fey.”

You didn’t know what to do with your hands and placed them on his wrists. “A pointless attempt.”

He picked up on the coolly tone and looked up at your face. “What is it? I can tell something is not right.”

Telling him the truth would compromise your chances of escape greatly. “It’s nothing.”

He grew wary. “Why are you lying?”

Because he had done so too… Because for weeks he had kept it a secret from you that your magic was meant to murder others. For weeks he had never said a word about Father Carden asking him to earn your trust and manipulate you.

You had to come up with a quick excuse, if he figured out that you were planning to escape you were done for. He had to believe that you still trusted him, that you still considered him the only friend you had in the world. You calmed your nerves and gained control over your emotions. To distract his trail of thought, you cupped his cheek. The change in his eyes was instant, somehow they got brighter and softer. The contrast between the innocence in his eyes and the guilt of his actions could not be bigger. That gaze could easily fool you into believing that he genuinely cared for you, much like how the most beautiful creatures in the world were often the most dangerous.

If he could manipulate you, you could do the same to him. “I’m just worried about what my father is planning.”

His gaze was locked on your face. “He will not touch you. Never again.”

The gesture of cupping his cheek was the incentive that made him act bolder, he rose from the ground, his hold on your waist did not break and he pulled you close against him. A gasp slipped out of your mouth, your hands flew to his upper arms and you had to resist the urge to push him off.

The Monk leaned in, speaking into your ear with conviction, “He will know the taste of his own blood when I find him.”

Of course he would not let anyone take away the weapon he had spend so much time on perfecting, you were his key to victory and to the love of Father Carden that he so craved. You turned your head away a little. His nose touched the side of your head briefly, how easily he could make it feel like he sought your affection. Was that what you were to him, a toy to play with and a weapon to wield? It was leaving your heart in ruins, to have believed to not be alone and for it all to be a lie. He leaned back, eyes intense on your evasive ones. A voice called out for the Monk just outside the tent’s entrance, he stepped away from you and went outside for a moment. He returned seconds later.

“Father Carden and Abbot Wicklow are set to journey to Uther’s camp, I will be accompanying them.” He stopped to stand not far from you. “Father wants you to be shackled as long as the Abbot is at camp.”

“Does he think I will run off and make him look bad in front of the Abbot?” you scoffed. “What excuse will he give when the Abbot learns that I am being kept a prisoner?”

Even he knew how poor the excuse was. “He will say that it is to prevent a sellsword from taking you away. There have been many threats directed at you.”

“Poor excuse.” you stated.

“It is only temporarily. I will remove the shackle the moment the Abbot has left.” he promised.

Then he shackled you by the ankle to the wooden pole and put the key of it on his cot, perfectly out of your reach. He did move your own cot closer so you could use it.

You threw the bait. “Will you take me into the forest again soon to practise the sword?”

A small smile curved his lips. “If you wish.”

Your voice was calmer than you thought it would have been. “I know you have asked me not to practise magic because I cannot control it. But I had hoped to learn how to heal with it.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he spoke, “You wish to practise it?”

“I wish to learn how to heal, how to use this Fey Fire for good things.” You stepped closer to him. It was impossible not to notice how evasive his eyes were now. “I could help so many people who are suffering. The sick, the wounded….”

He still hadn’t looked you in the eyes.

“Don’t you agree?” You felt your hand shake a little.

“Very well.” He finally said.

“I-”

“We will speak of this later.” He took a light hold on your lower arm, his thumb stroking over it. “I will return as soon as I can. Alright?”

How good he was in this false concern… especially after he just shackled you to ensure his weapon was still there when he returned. You just nodded, hoping it would not be too soon and ruin your plan. He mistook your silence for worry and took your hand in his for a moment, then let go and walked out of the tent. You had to escape this camp before you’d be forced to create the Fey Fire for them to use, even with the fear in your heart at the thought of having to survive on your own in the woods.

Time had run out.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  With the dagger, you tried to pry open the lock of the shackle. It took a lot of time before that rusted lock finally sprung open. You got to work right away, grabbing your satchel and putting all you had, that fitted, inside of it. The only thing you didn’t bother to take along was the journal the Monk had given you, it felt much like a poisoned gift. With the Trinity Guard present in the camp it was far more risky to escape, but on the other hand they did believe you were not Fey and were treated as if you belonged among Father Carden and his paladins. If they saw you, they would not be as alarmed as the red paladins would be. And now that the Monk was not at camp, it was the perfect time to make your attempt to flee. It was still daylight, the sun was not to set for another couple of hours. The only thing you had that offered you some discretion was your cloak, it would have to do. And if you were caught, Father Carden needed your magic, the worst they could do was torture and that was not a stranger to you.

You waited at the entrance of the tent, listening for approaching and descending footsteps, and when you heard nothing you risked peeking outside. Two paladins had stood with their backs in your direction a little further away next to another tent. The area was so filled with tents that you knew you had to take the chance to use that to your advantage.

You quickly moved out of the tent and darted across the small distance it took to reach a cluster of tents, the Monk’s tent was a little more secluded and stood alone. There were items littered all over the place, clothes hanged up to dry formed another helpful ally to stay unnoticed. It were the buckets that you had to be careful around or risked tripping over them. A dark shadow moved in the corner of your eyes and you hid behind a barrel, a Trinity Guard passed by. Sighing in relief that he didn’t see you, you left your hiding spot and continued to carefully make your way through the camp. At some point you had to hide in a tent for a while until the coast was clear to move on. When you finally reached the trees, you could barely believe it. A sense of relief came over you, followed by the voices if the Hidden that reminded you what you were running away from, or rather who…

They had not stopped letting their dismay be known, but you could not stay there and find out whether or not you would be used as a weapon against innocent people. It was time to find your own destiny away from those who only wanted you as property.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  Upon his return from Uther’s camp, the Monk knew Father was in a foul mood by the conversation between him and the Abbot. The king had refused to give the Witch to the Church and Father had lost his temper in front of him. For a moment he had thought he would have to fight Uther’s guards to protect Father, fortunately it did not go that far. Once Father turned away from the Abbot, a paladin came towards him with a familiar Fey boy in his grasp. All eyes were on the child right away.

“What is this?” Father asked.

“Fey scout. Caught him in the kitchens trying to free the Green Knight.” The paladin said.

He recognized this boy, not long ago he had used the child as bait in the woods to lure out the adult Feys. The boy had used all the air that entered his lungs to curse him out and insult him, it was rather impressive to hear how the boy never ran out of breath considering he was walking behind him while he rode Goliath.

Father took a firm hold on the boy’s chin, bruising the already bruised face further. “How many are with you, boy?” The boy refused to speak, Father grew impatient. “How many?”

A surge of bravery ran through the boy. “Enough to kill you, you paladin scum!”

“Oi!” Father let his disapproval be known.

The boy let his own be known as well by spitting in Father’s face.

Ah, yes. He had been submitted to those ill-manners in the forest as well. Never had he met one so young and yet so bold. It showed a fierce nature, a warrior’s spirit. But Father would not see it as such.

“Have Brother Salt take his measure.” Father ordered the paladin, bending down to the boy’s eye-level in a threatening manner. “And tell him to start with that foul tongue of his.” Father proceeded to walk away.

The conversation with the Green Knight was still burning in his mind. The children were not a threat, they were too young to be influenced beyond saving.

He physically blocked the paladin from walking of with the child. He knew the risk he took by disrespecting Father, but he could not stand aside and watch a child be tortured. “He’s just a boy.”

Father stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at him incredulous.

He tried not to let his tone be so strong on the second statement. “He’s no threat to us.”

The boy couldn’t fully believe that he would try and stop them. “You.”

Father knew that the Abbot and Trinity Guards present had seen this display of disobedience. “Take him away.”

The paladin dragged the boy away, sensing the storm that was about to come down over his Weeping Brother.

He knew what was coming. Father had that look in his eyes. It was not the physical pain he dreaded, it was the cracks they created in his soul. To be hurt by the ones he loved inflicted injuries he could not heal.

Father’s hand struck him across the face, hard. And he would never defend himself against the man who had given him all he had.

“Why would you embarrass me?” Father asked, tone filled with disappointment. “Why?”

The Abbot watched the display, a hint of a smile, as if it amused him. The Monk stood quietly, trying to calm the storm that threatened to reach the surface inside of him.

It was just a boy. A child would be tortured. A child that had tried to save the Green Knight. A child that had seen what he did to the Knight, and had followed him to the camp. He had led the boy to his demise. The Green Knight’s words cut through him sharper than any blade could.

    ~“You watch it all, through those weeping eyes, that makes you guilty.”~

    Father was stopped by Brother Adam. Father’s fury had no chance to calm before more troubling news came. Brother Adam barely dared to quietly inform the priest.

   ~“She has fled.”~

    Father Carden looked at the Monk, a look of sheer disbelief that turned into one of anger.

His blood ran cold. It couldn’t be true that you had truly left?

He walked away, rushing towards his tent to see it for himself. The tent was deserted, the broken shackle was laying abandoned on the ground. Your satchel and your mother’s journal was gone. The only thing left of you was the journal he had given you, it spoke louder than words that you had left it behind. He could feel himself start to shake. This couldn’t be…

Upon exiting the tent, Father was walking up to him.

“Find her.” Father ordered. “Take a small group. Do not let the Abbot know of this!”

He could barely keep his voice strong. “Yes, Father.”

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