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starzioo · 10 months ago

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𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓.

This is a Theo fic where you are a VS SUPERMODEL. During one of your shows you see a very handsome man. I think we can guess who said man is.

5.1k words.

WARNINGS: NONE

It was 2006 and you were in the heat of the Victoria's Secret angel show era. You were a high grade model. you had been modeling with Victoria's Secret for 3 years now and you had already made a big impact on the fashion industry. While doing business with VS you had also done shows with GUESS and Tommy Hilfiger. You also did catalogue with JUICY and many other hot brands. This was the start of your career and you made it big. Your face was all over the world along with Adriana Lima, Heidi Klum, Gisele, and even Tyra Banks. You were the it girl.

You sit legs crossed in your silk baby pink VS robe. Sitting in the stylists chair you had 3 different stylists were getting you ready. Two were curling your hair into the iconic VS blowout, while the other worked on your eyeshadow making sure the gold shimmer was nothing short of perfect. Backstage was always hectic, dozens of stylists and crew running around making sure the girls were on track and most importantly on time. It was hard to not get nervous during these times but you always knew how to keep your cool. While you weren't opening the show you were going to be the 3rd girl that walked out. 3rd? And not only that Justin Timberlake was going to be preforming for the show. I mean come on Justin Timberlake? Everything had to be perfect.

You had been shown the lingerie you were going to be wearing tonight, you had 4 pieces total. And every single one was tailored perfect to your body. Although you had worn the pieces during the rehearsals, tonight was the night. You could hear the crowd of people bustling outside, even over the noise of all the girls laughing and conversing while getting ready. You take a deep breath. "Is Y/n set to go? She has 10 minutes." A crew member asked the stylist working on your hair. "Uhh, she needs to go to outfits still. We'll get her there asap!" She says hairspraying your hair into oblivion. "Okay -she scans the clip board in her hands- make sure she gets there Gisele and Heidi are already changed and on there marks." She sighs and rushes away to the other girls. This is the moment when you can feel your heartbeat all throughout your body. This happens every show it's the adrenaline rush. The knowing that there's hundreds of people out in the crowd. The knowing that this show is broadcasted to millions of people global. "Okayyy, open your eyes! What'd ya thinkkk?" The makeup artist says finally pulling the soft brush away from your eyelid. You open your eyes. There was a soft brown shadow on the outer part of the crease that blended into a light gold shimmer that added as highlight to your inner corner. She did a natural eyeliner with small falsies. It made your eyes pop. The base of your makeup was natural but yet gave a glow to your face. Your hair was perfect aswell the curls accentuated and framed your face in every right way. Everything was absolutely beautiful. "Ahhh! Thank you! It's perfect as always, I need to rush to costumes now!" You say giving your makeup artist and hairstylist a quick hug. "Thank you byee!" You said quickly as you ran off to go find your outfit coordinator.

"I'm here!!" You say frantically as you run behind the curtains to the dressing rooms. "Finally, I swear we were about to send S.W.A.T for you! -She takes your hand and takes you to a dressing room that has

'Y/N Y/L/N' printed on a gold name plate on the door.- Ok, here's your opening outfit. -She hands you your first piece of lingerie- Holler if you need help with the bra!" She says as she walks out of the small room. "I have your wings out here when you're done!" She yells from outside. "Okay!" Although it was never your fault, things always seemed to go this way with every show. You were always running late. Whether it was a wardrobe malfunction or a burn with the curling iron, it was always something.

THEO:

It had been an on going tradition with the boys and Pansy to go see the VS fashion shows. I mean who didn't wanna see dozens of goddesses walking up and down a runway in lingerie? Me, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy are all walking through the VIP access to get to our seats. Every year without fail we had front row seats to the shows. Front row usually consisted of celebrities and important people from the fashion industry but when you have as much money as we do, we fit right in. Tonight me and the group were wearing all black Ralph Lauren, except for Pansy she was wearing Versace from the dress to the shoe. She opted for the Medusa '95 Midi Dress with the matching pumps, she wore her short chic hair tucked behind her ears. She looked absolutely stunning. If she didn't swing the other way I would've probably tried snagging her up myself. I wore an obsidian black tuxedo jacket with the matching tux pants, underneath I wore a black turtle neck long sleeve. My shoes were black aswell shined to absolute perfection. Blaise and Draco wore almost the same but a different variation of the shirts and pants. When we went anywhere publicized or not we came in outfits that were made to impress. Although our choices weren't as flashy or branded as others our style choices showed our money. Only if you paid attention to fashion would you know that this simple cashmere turtle neck costed $1,000. Or that Pansy's dress and heels total were $3,000. Or even Draco's rings that costed more than an apartment in Manhattan. Our style choices tonight were nothing short of perfection.

We finally take our seats we are sat close to the end of the runway. It had the best view from our experience. And you also got to see the girls more up close. You could see every laced detail and every diamond on their stunning lingerie pieces. Although we had all originally started coming as a joke we started taking these shows as a chance to get publicity. About 2 years ago Pansy had made friends with one of the models at an after party and the next day they were seen on Hollywood boulevard shopping and they ended up getting hit with paparazzi. Pansy and Karolina were on the cover of Teen-Vogue, STAR US, and were posted all over countless TMZ gossip blogs. That's when we realized how much publicity we could get just from being here. That's also when we decided to buy VIP tickets to the shows. The paparazzi tended to pay much more attention to the VIP entrances hoping to get shots of celebrities entering in and out of the venue. I mean if you acted important the paparazzi seemed to think that you were important. We had gotten pictures of us taken and posted on page 6. of STAR US captioned, 'Seen at the Victoria's Secret Angel Show last night these mystery guests have appeared yet again! Wearing only luxury designers, who could these people be? Their outfits all together cost more than my mortgage! Girls across America have been on the hunt to find these handsome boys. Mysterious and totally gorgeous? Count me in on the search!' The amount of publicity was insane and even now seated from row we have the paparazzi taken pictures of us every now and then. As we all converse with eachother about the show the lights in the venue begin to dim, the crowd goes silent.

Y/N:

You stood in line on your mark behind Gisele and another angel. Your nerves were crazy. Stylist swarmed the line of girls getting every last flyaway slicked, making sure every heel was clasped, fluffing all wings. You nervously shook your hands taking a breath.

"10, -The backstage manager yelled- 9," "Ok girls! Keep on beat! AND KEEP THE CROWD ENTERTAINED!" Not only were you girls there to model you were there as an advertisement. A campaign. You were entertainers. Performers. Keeping the crowd focused on you and nothing else was your main goal during shows. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1" You could hear the audience cheering for Justin Timberlake as he arose from a platform that was hidden underneath the runway. The beat to 'Sexyback' could be heard all throughout the venue. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Gisele." The manager said giving Gisele her cue to walk. As she opened the show the crowd roared and you could hear the cameras shuttering. "Ok, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Alessandra." She walked out more and more cameras shuttering. It was your turn. This is the moment where all your jitters wash away. Nervous backstage, confident bombshell on stage. You placed your hands on your hips and get ready to walk. "5, 4, 3, -during these moments time always seemed to slow. Everything around you was in slow motion as you prepared for the moment when you would be in the gaze of hundreds of people.- 2, 1. Y/n."

Not missing one beat your body moved in sync with Justin's music. As you appeared on the runway, it felt as if a flash bomb had went off. The hundreds of cameras flash flashed before you. You looked absolutely perfect. Your opening lingerie was stunning. The bra itself was a white gold fabric with 24k diamonds that were delicately placed to make a lacy like pattern. Your panties were low waisted, barely leaving anything for the imagination, the fabric had small diamonds around the waist and elegant lacy white gold patterns. Your wings made you look like a literal angel. The feathers were white and fluffy they faded into gold at the tips. Your heels were stiletto embroidered with more bling that you can ever imagine. You looked stunning. You walked as if you owned the runway, like you owned the venue. The crowd loved you. Justin faced you giving you playful eyes. You reached out your hand, playfully wiggling your finger motioning him to come you to you. He obliged. He walked towards you as you continued your catwalk to him. Once you came close enough you ghosted your hand across his chest and continued walking. As he sang he checked you out as he did every model. As you approached the end of the runway you met eyes with a man. He was quite handsome in your opinion, -I mean absolutely gorgeous, he was eye candy to you- and that was saying a lot. I mean you're a Victoria's Secret supermodel. His eyes were icy and grey. Even with all the flashes of the cameras his eyes stayed almost dead? But not in a bad way, a totally invitingly sexy way. He sat forward as you approached the end of the stage. A small flirty smirk played on his lips. You didn't know why but you felt, -almost drawn?- to him. As you got closer the cameras flashed more than ever. "Y/n! Over here!" "Y/n!" "Y/n!!!" The photographers and crowd shouted your name. Even with all the people calling for your attention you couldn't look away from his eyes. There was just something about them. As you reached the end of the runway you finally ripped your eyes away from his and looked into the mob of flashes. A flirty smile on your lips as you posed for the cameras. You rested one of your hands on your hip and the other raised to your mouth. You sexily bit down on your pointer finger as you basically made love to the sea cameras with your eyes. After your designated 10 seconds on the head of the stage it was time to strut back to backstage. A playful smile replaced the flirty as you looked away from the cameras, you turned to walk back. You glanced back at the mystery man and kept walking flirting with Justin as you walked.

The next segment you were walking was segment 3: Come fly with me. Once again your piece was absolutely perfect for you. Your top was a simple baby pink bra with bold white detailing. Your skirt was a matching low waisted super mini skirt that showed the white underwear you wore underneath the skirt. You wore a small matching jacket, the sleeves went to your elbows. You had a cute flight attendant hat to go with. You carried with you a cute little baby pink pamphlet with a pink airplane on the front. It gave Hue Hefners flight attendant in all the right ways. As the 2nd segment was happening you were actually ahead of time. You actually had time to talk for the BTS clips and take pictures with the other models. You were talking with Miranda when the manager yelled. "Y/N! On your mark!!!" She yelled as she rushed you into the line of models. "Sorry!" You said worried as you rushed to your place behind Adriana.

The segment was already about to start. There was only about a minute intermission between the segments and that minute if even one model was late could ruin the entire show. You really needed to start paying attention to your marks. "OKAY GIRLS! KEEP. THEM. ENTERTAINED. DO SOMETHING!!! ANYTHING WE WANT THE COVER! NOT PAGE 3!!!" The managers always yelled backstage it was nothing new. Although to anyone else it would sound mean. But that's their job. It's their responsibility to make sure that the show goes smooth without any hiccups or problems. It was also their job to make sure to instruct the girls on what to fix and improve. "Okay Adrianna. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1." The manager said as she strutted out from backstage. Once again you found yourself in the trance like state. The tv that was backstage showed what the cameras were broadcasting as Adriana approaches the head of the runway you hear the long awaited count down. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Y/n." All worries wash away and once again you're that girl. You cat walked that damn stage like never before. Your glittering legs moved to the beat and your hips swayed with the rhythm. The cameras bombed you per usual. You knew you were gonna be on a cover or atleast a headline. You always were. You were just that girl. The crowd always loved you, they lived for you. You approached the end of the runway. Even in the middle of hundreds of eyes you could feel one stare particularly. His eyes were paralyzing. You fluttering your eyelashes at him as you continue walking up. You looked him up and down flirtatiously and he did the same. You acted on impulse -not on thought- When you got to the end of the runway you fanned yourself with the pamphlet, then tossed the pamphlet into the man's lap, and shot him a flirty wink then strutted away. Hundreds more cameras flashed it seemed like they were faster than the speed of light. We were definitely getting front cover. I mean the manager said to keep the people entertained?

THEO:

"Bro, what the fuck!" Blaise laughed as the angel walked away. "Theo, I told you! I swear she was looking at you like you were candyyy!" Pansy giggled. I just stared in awe at the pink pamphlet that laid in my lap. "Dude...she's into you!" Draco said basically geeking. "What the fuck." I said picking up the pamphlet as cameras flashed at me.

Y/N:

"Y/n?! What the hell was that?" One of the backstage managers said as she came out of nowhere. "Uhhh" You stared blankly at the woman. "Y/n, you're an angel! -she kisses you on the cheek- We just got 400 thousand more viewers on the live broadcast when you did that! God! Muah! Muah! -she continued giving you forehead kisses- Oh my god! -she smacks her forehead- We need to get you to wardrobes!" She shrieked as she pulled you by your hand through the crowd of models. Some of the girls whistling at you. You both finally made it to the dressing rooms. Although you weren't walking segment 4 or 5 you were opening and closing for the 6th segment: Winter Wonderland of Glacial Goddess. So ohh did you need all the time you could gather to get ready.

This time they re did your eyeshadow to an icy shimmer look. It truly did make your eyes pop. You were in all white and silver. The bra was absolutely stunning. Nearly blinding with the amount of diamonds. The designer had told you the lingerie costed more than the venue itself. And that was saying a lot. This is L.A. and this venue. It was absolutely nothing short of breath taking. You were opening this segment in the 6million dollar bra. All eyes would be on you I mean how couldn't they be the bra was basically built out of diamonds. The main focus of this piece was this bra. "Okay Y/n! Good luck! Maybe flirt with your mystery man again... -ooo's erupt from the girls- but good luck not that you need it! WE HAVE ONE MINUTE LADIES!" The manager yelled as she walked around instructing the staff on what to fix on the models. Your nerves got the best of you, you were shaking your hands and popping your knuckles. After what felt like hours you finally heard the count down. "Ok Y/n, show the world the physical embodiment of winter goddess! 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Go." As you hear the beat of the music you get into the rhythm.

Your hips were swaying smoothly with ease. Gasps and whistles erupted from the crowd as you walked slowly and sensually. Your wings flowing behind you. Being the opener of the segment you got to walk down the center of the runway. All eyes were on you. The cameras were flashing at such a rate you thought the photographers would've ran out of storage by now. The diamonds blinging with every shot taken. When you got to the middle mark of the runway you did a small but quick spin. Once you neared the end of the runway you felt the fans blowing on you and the artificial snow falling from the ceiling made the whole scene perfect. Your eyes fluttered at the cameras and your lips parted slightly. Your hands rested lightly on your hips. After your designated time was up and the next model started walking down the runway you glance down to the man you have been flirting with all night. You looked from his eyes and then back down to his lap where the baby pink pamphlet laid then back up to his eyes. You blew him a kiss, then giggled when you seen his friend practically leap across a girl and a blonde man to catch it. The way he looked at you wasn't like how any other man looked at you it was with that same thirsty look you'd seen on every man at the shows it was more like admiration. He looked at you like you were a literal goddess on Earth. Hundreds of cameras caught the moment. You were living for this. I mean obviously all these stunts were getting you publicity, but there was just something about this man that drew you to him. It made you want to continue this flirty behavior towards him. You couldn't put your finger on exactly what it was. His alluring eyes? His perfectly tailored suit that showed his physique? Or perhaps the way he rolled a single gold ring between his fingers? You didn't know this man was truly a mystery.

You went backstage once more and covered your face with your hands in embarrassment as a group of stage directors and managers swarmed you. "The viewers are living for this!" "Your name is all over Facebook and MySpace!" "You gotta keep this going!" "Did you plan this?" "This is definitely making front cover!" You laugh in embarrassment of the very public flirting situation you have going on with some random you've never met before. "Oh my god! What do I do next? I mean there's not much I can do. It's not like I can pull him up on stage or anything? I don't even know the guy!" You say as they all rush you back to the dressing rooms. "Yes! Yes! Do exactly that!" "Do what? No. I won't that's- that's just embarrassing. Not only for me but for him! Like I said before I don't even know the guy!" You explained as the group of stylists quickly changed you into your next lingerie set.

Again there you stood on your mark in line watching as the line of ansy girls get shorter and shorter. You were gonna be closing the same segment you opened. And ohhh were you nervous. I mean who wouldn't be? You stand there nervously shaking your hands trying calm yourself down. Taking deep breaths as you watch the cue get shorter and shorter. "Okay Y/n, you ready?" One of the backstage managers asks lightly resting a hand on your back. "Yeah..Yeah I'm ready." You lightly smile. As you approach the hidden door way where you're supposed to enter the stage. Even from backstage you can hear the photographer's cameras flashing, and the people clapping and whistling. You snap out of your thoughts and look up. There's only one girl in front of you in line. You take quite possibly the longest breath you've ever taken before you hear those same repetitive words you've been hearing all night. "Okay Y/n, you ready?" You only nod in response. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Go." As soon as you heard the word you had to force yourself to walk. You could not let your nerves get the best of you right now.

You walked onto the stage looking as ethereal as humanly possible. The bra had dozens of dainty diamond embedded silver chains that traveled down your body to the panties. The thong had the same diamond chains dangling from it that connected with your sheer sparkling thigh highs. The diamonds that were connected with the one that laid against your torso also traveled up and around your neck creating a diamond choker illusion. Your stilettos were covered in the same stunning diamonds. You were dripping head to toe in bling. And let's not get started on your wings. The wings were extravagant. There was feathers that blended into a sheer flowing fabric at the ends that blew and bounced in the wind when you walked. You had a head piece aswell it blended into your hair making it look like you had diamonds and snow in your hair. Your earrings were diamonds that were engraved to simulate snowflakes. You were an actual winter goddess.

As you appeared on stage the crowd went absolutely crazy. You walked per usual but this time walking directly down the middle of the stage, hips gliding with the music. Your wings flowing and bouncing with every step you took. Looking from left to right engaging with the crowd. As you walked closer and closer to the end of the stage once again you locked eyes with him. You gave him a wink before posing for the cameras. Since you were closing you had an extended amount of time to pose for the cameras. It was like a flash bomb had went off. Every. Single. Photographer. in the building was taking hundreds of pictures of you. You stood there hands on your hips letting the artificial snow and wind do its job.

After your designated time you made a rash decision. Instead of turning around and walking back to backstage. You stepped down the stairs that were at the end of the stage and approached the mystery man. His eyes no longer appeared sleepy or dead, but now utterly surprised. Once you got close enough you extended your hand to him, and he happily obliged. His cold hand took yours and you guided him back up onto the stage. His friends whistling at you two. The cameras bombed you two. Once you got back on stage he gave you a little twirl. Your fingers were loosely grasping his as you guided him to backstage. You walked in front of him looking back at him every few seconds.

You both finally made it backstage and immediately you two were surrounded by managers and stylists, models gawking at you two. The models were laughing and smiling at the sight. "Ahh! Y/n you did it!" Your managers said wrapping an arm around you. Some of the backstage cameras recording and taking photos of the both of you. "And what's your name?" The manager turned and asked the man. He looked completely dazed and confused, while also smiling. "Uhm, Theo. Theodore Nott." He said shaking the managers hand. "Well I have business to attend to. You can stay backstage until we're done! Uhhh! Stacy get him a backstage pass!" The manager shouted for her assistant. Stacy comes up to him and wraps a lanyard around his neck. You turn to him to find him already looking at you. "So uhm, sorry about all that. I was just- My manager told me to." You looked down to find that you were both still holding hands. You quickly let go when you realized. "Yeah, no worries. I was just confused...but I really don't mind." His voice was as smooth as velvet.

As you looked up at him you took the opportunity to take in all of his features. He truly was as handsome as you thought. You both kinda just stood there looking at each other. "So...would you want to go to dinner with me?" He asks breaking the silence between you two. Even backstage where there's girls running around trying to get changing out of their pieces and managers trying to make sure everyone was doing their jobs, you felt as if the room was silent. "Yeah, that would be nice." You said softly as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His expression once questioning now soft. A small smile laced his lips. "I'm gonna go get changed, uhm, there's drinks and a snack table over there if you want anything. Oh, and if you want you could bring your friends back stage with you." You said giving him a small smile. "Yeah, okay, take your time. There's no rush." He said giving you one last smile before you turned to go back to the dressing room.

You made your way to the dressing room and when you got there you were swarmed with girls squealing and asking you questions. "Okay, okay. So, he asked me to dinner." "And what'd you say?!" "Well obviously I said yes!" All the girls were jumping and hugging you. "Well hurry up and get changed already you can't keep him waiting!!!" They ushered you into your dressing room and you hurriedly got changed back into your clothes you had came to the venue in. Due to the fact that before the show you had an interview for the BTS footage your outfit was simple. It was a black strapless dress from Versace that ended at a little below your knees. Your shoes were black Gianni Ribbon Pumps from Versace as well. Your hair was still in its classic VS blowout. You carried a small black shoulder purse. You stepped back out of your dressing room. "Do I look okay?" You said with a worried expression. "Yes? Is that even a question Y/n?" One model said smiling at you. You began walking out of the dressing room before quickly turning around, "Wait i'm nervous!" "Y/n you'll be finee! I'll walk you out of the dressing room, c'monnn let's go!" She said hooking your arm with hers. She walked you maybe 15feet out of the room and then he was in your line of sight. He and his friends stood all together right where you left him. The girl was chatting with Karolina and a stylist. "Now go...see he's waiting for you~" She cooed in your ear. You gave her a 'really.' look. "Okay —you take a breath— wish me luck!" You say before turning to walk over to him.

You immediately catch all of his attention. He looks almost awestruck? "Hey, i'm ready to go." You say softly smiling up at him. Your gaze then wanders to his friends who are watching and giggling at you two. "Don't worry about them, I already called the car service for them. As for us we'll be going to Providence. It's a very nice restaurant, I think you'll like it." He says with a charming smile. You've never been there but from what you've heard about the place the restaurant sounded luxury. "Yeah that's fine with me, whenever you're ready to go I am." Right when you say that your manager comes rushing to you. "Y/n! Y/n!" She says nearly out of breath as ran up to you. "Oh, Y/n~" She says as she sees you standing next to Theo. You roll your eyes playfully. "I just got you an interview with the director of GUCCI! He wants to speak with you now though so let's go!" She says trying to yank you. "Ericka! Wait!" You slightly yell trying to get out of her grasp. She lets go turning around to you with a worried face. You turn back around to Theo. "I'm sorry, I don't think-" He cuts you off, "Don't worry about it bella, we'll schedule dinner for another time. Now go. Don't let me stop you, okay." He says charming as ever as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You blush slightly and give him a small smile. "Okay, thank you for understanding. Oh! Uhm, Ericka do you have a pen?" "Yeah, yeah, here." She says as she frantically looks for a pen and gives one to you. You take his hand and write.

415-***-**** Call me. XoXo.

You fold his hand then lean up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. He just stands there slightly blushing. "I'll see you soon, yeah?" You ask as you turn to walk away with Ericka. "Yeah." He says as he slightly licks his lips.

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everlastingdreams · 1 month ago

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

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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

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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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#weeping monk x reader #cursed #cursed netflix #lancelot x reader #weeping monk #the weeping monk #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #lancelot

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afeelgoodblog · 2 years ago

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The Best News of Last Week - June 13, 2023

1. U.S. judge blocks Florida ban on care for trans minors in narrow ruling, says ‘gender identity is real’

A federal judge temporarily blocked portions of a new Florida law that bans transgender minors from receiving puberty blockers, ruling Tuesday that the state has no rational basis for denying patients treatment.

Transgender medical treatment for minors is increasingly under attack in many states and has been subject to restrictions or outright bans. But it has been available in the United States for more than a decade and is endorsed by major medical associations.

2. Eagle Who Thought Rock Was an Egg Finally Gets to Be a Dad

A week after their introduction the cage where the little eaglet was put, was removed so the two could interact more closely. When they were given food, a whole fish for Murphy and bite-sized pieces for his young charge, rather than each eating their separate dish, Murphy took his portion and ripped it up to feed to the baby.

3. Little penguins to reclaim Tasmanian car park as city-based population thrives

Not far from the centre of Tasmania's fourth largest city, a colony of the world's smallest penguins has been thriving, and their habitat is about to expand into an existing car park.

The bright lights and loud noises of Burnie have not been a deterrent for hundreds of penguins who set up home on the foreshore in the north-west Tasmanian city.

4. Latest population survey yields good news for endangered vaquita porpoise

The resilient little vaquita marina appears determined to survive the illegal fishing that has brought it dangerously close to extinction, according to the latest population survey. Despite an estimated annual decline of 45% in 2018, the endangered porpoise appears to be holding steady over the last five years, according to a report published Wednesday by the International Union for Conservation of Nature.

5. 'Extinct' butterfly species reappears in UK

The species, previously described as extinct in Britain for nearly 100 years, has suddenly appeared in countryside on the edge of London. Small numbers of black-veined whites have been spotted flying in fields and hedgerows in south-east London. First listed as a British species during the reign of King Charles II, they officially became extinct in Britain in 1925.

This month they have mysteriously appeared among their favourite habitat: hawthorn and blackthorn trees on the edge of London, where I and other naturalists watched them flitting between hedgerows.

6. Colombian is a hero in Peru: he rescued 25 puppies that were about to die in a fire

During a structural fire that occurred in a residential area of Lima in Peru, a young Colombian became a hero. The Colombian, identified as Sebastián Arias, climbed onto the roof where the puppies were and threw them towards the community, that was waiting for them with sheets and mattresses. "I love them, dogs fascinate me," said the young man.

7. World-first trial for pediatric brain cancer

Researchers in Australia are conducting a world-first clinical trial for children diagnosed with ependymoma, a rare and devastating brain cancer. The trial aims to test a new drug called Deflexifol, which combines chemotherapy drugs 5-FU and leucovorin, offering potentially less toxic and more effective treatment compared to current options.

Ependymoma is the third most common brain tumor in children, and current treatments often lead to relapses, with a high fatality rate for those affected. The trial, led by researcher David Ziegler at the Kids Cancer Centre, has received support from the Kids with Cancer Foundation and the Cancer Institute NSW. The goal is to find a cure for every child diagnosed with ependymoma.

----

That's it for this week :)

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#best news of last week

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robinsdearest · 8 months ago

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What some circumstance stole

Jason Todd x Reader

(idea brought to you by "Orpheus" by Vincent Lima)

What does a human do at the feet of a god?

As a child, he had spat at the withered man’s feet. Granted, Jason was eight when he first met Hades.

The throne room was small, no bigger than the apartment he shared with his mother. The throne seemed so large in comparison, almost as if it weren’t made to be there. There were cracked and crumbling columns on either side of it, and two more barely standing behind him. Jason felt a little claustrophobic- there was more breathing room in an alleyway.

So many questions had run through his head, but he knew where we was. He remembered counting a few sets of ribs just that morning; he didn’t remember the last time he had eaten something, or the last time he had seen his mother.

Jason was a smart kid. But just a kid: he didn’t understand why he had died but she hadn’t.

A swirling mist descended from the ceiling, materializing into the form of a body on the throne. The form seemed much larger than the average human.

“Kneel before the King of the Underworld.” A voice boomed from seemingly all directions, but Jason stood tall. He was a thief and a street rat. His mother was a drug addict and had not rightfully taught him manners. He would not be bullied.

The being stared at Jason, and Jason stared right back. More smoke drifted around the body, a man fully emerging from the shadows of it. He had appeared much older than Jason, nearly ninety years old. He had red eyes that gleamed like the rubies Jason had read about in books from the dumpsters.

The man, or the King as he called himself, would not budge. He was probably waiting for Jason’s compliance.

The King would have anything but compliance.

“Send me back.” Jason demanded.

“You starved, boy.” His voice croaked and creaked with age, and it grated against Jason’s sensitive ears. “A promised soul does not get sent back.”

Jason scoffed. “I could have lasted another day or two. I would have gotten something from the old lady across the hall.”

The old man tutted, standing to his full height. Jason had seen the Batmobile a few days ago in the alley, and this thing was definitely larger than that. As the man moved, the scent of decay and death rushed through Jason’s small nose. It smelled better than his mother’s apartment, he knew for sure.

“Do you know who I am?”

Jason crossed his arms. All those other adults in the slums of Gotham had tried to get Jason to answers questions like that, tried to make him look stupid. He never answered them, and he wasn’t about to answer this guy. It didn’t matter though, because the man seemed more amused than anything.

“My name is Hades: Ruler of the Dead, eldest son of Kronus, the Rich One, the King-“

“I don’t care.” Jason interrupted in utter defiance. “It doesn’t matter who you are.”

Hades chuckled to himself and murmured a few words too low for Jason’s ears to hear. Rather, he heard a hissing noise from behind him. He turned in circles to try and find the source, but the marble floor was only filled with smoke, dense and gray. The noise grew louder as Hades walked closer to him. Jason would always stand his ground. He would always fight if given the chance.

“Answer my riddle, boy.”

“Jason.” He corrected, indignant until the very end.

“Jason.” The old man parroted and then smiled. A grotesque thing: a gummy mouth with few yellow teeth. “Some will hide, others will cheat. I can be of pride, or I can be of defeat. What am I?”

The hissing noise seemed to creep along his spine, a slick bug crawling along his skin. Jason tried to swat at it while Hades loomed over him, watching with his ruby eyes. Jason refused to cower, refused to give in.

“You’re Death.” Jason announced with a deep-seated courage. He was Jason Todd, and he would not be afraid.

Hades smiled again, the yellow of his teeth becoming more prominent while hair fell from his scalp. “That I am.”

More smoke descended from the ceiling, wispy and thin, this time only surrounding Jason. An icy cold washed over his body, threading through the skin between his fingers, like someone holding his hand in a winter night. The hissing and the bug disappeared, and the smoke blurred his vision until he only saw Hades before him.

“I will see you again soon, Jason.” Hades’ voice boomed, a thunder clap and a lightning crash, and Jason was swallowed by the mist.

____________________________________

What would a human do at the feet of a god for the second time?

As a teenager, he folded into himself and waited to wake up. Jason was fifteen; his sixteenth birthday wouldn’t have been too far away from this second death. He knew he was still a kid- the Joker had told him plenty of times behind a crowbar.

He was still seated upright against a wall, arm slung over his eyes. He brought his knees to his chest, cradling his body while the shaking of his bones subsided.

The throne room was bigger somehow, shaped like a crumbling warehouse with onyx columns and ivy plants stretched thin across the walls. The old man sitting on the throne was smaller now, as if more of his muscle mass had deteriorated. He was now more bones than body. Jason recalled the many names the man gave himself, the riddle he answered as an eight-year-old. It didn’t matter where he was, who he was with. Bruce was going to get him from here.

Right?

“Do you remember me, boy?” The man asked.

“Jason.” He corrected in a small voice he failed to recognize as his own. His eight-year-old self had more courage than his present self. He had no more courage left to give.

“I have no riddles for you this time, Jason.”

Jason nodded his head. His bones ached, his entire body still thrumming with aftershock. His throat was sore from screaming, asking for forgiveness he might not have deserved. Tears stung at his eyes as he tried to blink them away. He hadn’t cried once during his time in that warehouse. Now, sitting on the cold marble floor of the Underworld, Jason was more embarrassed than anything with a sickening realization.

Bruce wasn’t coming at all. Bruce never made it to the warehouse in the twelve hours the Joker had held him. Some detective, that bat. He didn’t care about Jason, just as his mother hadn’t cared. He was a thief and a street rat; he didn’t deserve that kindness, that love.

Jason let out a long sigh. He knocked his head back against the wall to stare above him. There wasn’t a ceiling, but a silent, star-filled sky resting above his head. The columns disappeared into the inky night, fading away into the blackness such as death does.

By this time, he remembered the story of the Greek Gods from Diana, remembered where dead souls wander to.

He had broken each of the bones in his right arm, his collarbone, and his shoulder blade in a fall during a mission. The fourth time Jason was caught trying to sneak out of the mansion while Bruce was on patrol, Alfred had called in red, white, and lasso reinforcements. Diana had sat with him for the next few weeks describing the stories and history of Greek Mythology. She brought her sidekick, a small aspiring hero created in the same way Diana was created: formed of beach clay and brought to life by Zeus. Hippolyta had wanted a child, and so Diana also wished the same. You were small and frail, but you looked at Diana like she had hung the moon, and you looked at Jason like he had drawn the stars.

Diana told the two of you that the gods were in fact real. She emphasized the importance of the gods and their jobs, how they interacted with mortals, how they dealt with them. She told the stories of the Harpies and the Fates, the trials of the demigods, and even the bards of the Argonauts, led by his namesake and the descendent of Hermes, Jason.

You had hated the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. A death no one prepared for and how Orpheus failed his test; the gods playing with the lives of mortals they didn’t care about.

“It’s not fair that for all their love they still failed at the end. I thought stories were meant to have happy endings?”

Jason had huffed out a breath. “Not everyone gets a happy ending.” You chucked a water bottle at his head in response.

Diana had a soft look on her face as she patted your head. “To love is to look, young ones. Orpheus loved Eurydice so much he lost her. It is not a happy ending, but a warning to those who would follow in the footsteps that Orpheus made. He was never going to win.”

Diana refused to tell him if the tales of heroes and demigods were true.

Jason blinked, the star-studded ceiling coming back into focus. He rubbed the tears away from his face with the back of his hand. The room smelt of jasmine and siena-colored earth, much more comforting than last time.

He forced himself to stand. He’d just get this over with, go shake Hades’ hand and accept his death or whatever the god wanted. He was tired. Too tired.

Hades still sat on his throne, a solid black seat that reached into the mist above. Two hellhounds sat on either side of the god, both watching Jason’s every movement. Hades held out a hand, beckoning Jason to come forward. Black mist poured out from behind the throne, the smell of it overwhelming with rotting fruit.

Jason took a single step before halting. A green mist, viscous and murky, sprouted from beneath his feet, the smell of briny water pouring with it. He spun in a circle, his mind racing. Was this one of Hades’ tricks? He didn’t want to play any of the god’s games. His head whipped towards Hades, whose face mirrored his own confusion. Jason tried to take another step but couldn’t. He could feel something along his back: not a bug but a tether, some type of chain attached to the middle of his spine that stopped him from moving forward.

The green mist quickly clouded his vision, climbing up his body and painting everything in an emerald hue. Jason watched as Hades stood from his throne and thrust a hand forward. The black mist and the hellhounds raced forward in a feeble attempt to grab Jason. He was too far away from the throne for it to matter. A warm breeze swept against the scruff of his neck, the feeling of someone calling his name, calling him back.

Something had grabbed on to the chain and yanked. His body folded in on itself, the tether to his spine wrenching him backward. Jason went flying through the air, pulled sideways and up and down, and Hades could do nothing but watch as his prize was taken from him.

Bruce hadn’t come to save him then. But something else had snatched Jason from the hands of Death, and Death would neither forgive nor forget.

____________________________________

What would a human do at the feet of a god for the third time?

As an adult, he would beg, if need be. He was now twenty-six. Matured, stronger, wiser than the previous times standing before the lone throne of the empty room.

The room was larger than he remembered, deeper and more menacing. The onyx columns surrounding him were twice as thick as he was now. The ceiling was still a starry night sky, the throne still thrusted itself upward, not breaking the inky picture. And instead of an old man sitting on the throne, Death appeared to him as a ghastly skeleton clothed in tattered robes.

“You come before me now, Jason? After years apart, you wish to stand here of your own free will?” Hades clicked his tongue, or whatever the skeleton kept in his mouth. “That’s not like you at all.”

Jason had escaped Hades twice before. He would do whatever Hades asked of him this time.

Jason shook his head. “I’m not here for my soul.”

“Whose soul would you like to bargain for then?”

Jason didn’t hesitate before saying your name. The second it left his lips, the King of the Underworld smiled. A genuine smile, as if your name was funny to him. As if this moment was going to be amusing. Nothing about losing you from the Land of the Living was amusing. Nothing. This third time, it wasn’t his soul that needed saving. It was yours.

Yours: child to Diana, fellow hero, fellow friend. And you were so much more than that. Brilliant, beautiful, steadfast, passionate, selfless, and helpful. Sunlight personified. A friend to all and stranger to none. Taken, stolen from this life as if you weren’t the most important in Jason’s.

He didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to you, he didn’t get the chance to tell you how much you truly meant to him.

You had been friends since you were pulled into his room with Diana. Diana and Bruce’s friendship meant the two of you would always be seen together, but it was more than that.

You were the calm to Jason’s storm, you mellowed him out in ways he never dreamed anyone could. The two of you worked seamlessly together on missions, where he failed you succeeded, the perfect dynamic duo.

Dick had joked several times how in a room full of people, you would only smile at Jason.

Jason would tell you that he was sorry more than was needed, he would fix this. You were coming home, sweet home, and he swore home had never been so sweet before you.

He had begged Diana for a traditional obol, an Ancient Greek silver coin used as payment to cross into the Underworld. You were already buried with one, but Jason needed his own. He needed to bribe the ferryman, yet Diana had told Jason it wasn’t worth it.

“You do not play games with Fate, and you most certainly do not play games with a god.” She had said.

She refused to hand it to him. He wanted to yell, to scream at Diana for not wanting to do anything to get her child back. Maybe she knew better than to fight this way; maybe she knew better than to play games with your soul.

It was a good thing he used to be a thief and a street rat. You’d probably never forgive him for this, but he had to try. He stole the obol the day of your funeral. He wouldn’t attend something he could make right. He would bring you back.

“A mission gone wrong,” every other hero seemed to call it. Everyone except for Jason.

He felt the weight on his shoulders, forced to carry the burden of your death, a mirror image of Atlas holding the world and the heavens. A story made real. Bruce and Diana told him it wasn’t his fault, but Jason couldn’t shake the guilt.

If only he had been stronger, faster, more proactive rather than reactive. If he weren’t a loose cannon and had been more reliant on waiting, more patient. If you hadn’t taken that shot that would have been placed directly over his heart. If only you weren’t something some unfortunate circumstance stole.

You had told Jason for years how important he was, how his life, his soul, had purpose and meaning. You showed Jason all the kindness and love he didn’t think he deserved. The look of hope in your eyes as you tried to convince him. He had just started to believe you.

In those final moments, you acted as if his life were more important than yours. You wasted your last breaths telling Jason that you were in love with him, always had been. It wasn’t fair you didn’t last long enough to hear him tell you the same.

And Jason would soon rectify that mistake.

“What do you wish to bargain?” Hades’ smile seemed to grow more menacing, as if he was expecting Jason to offer his own soul as a trade.

You had hated the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. The dedication of his love, the hubris of believing he had won, the failure of his one goal. The loss of trust that Eurydice was behind him. The panic that ensued- what if it were a lie? Is it true ‘to love is to look’?

Would he make the same mistake for you? He’d like to believe not. There was no doubt that Orpheus loved Eurydice; he loved her so much he lost her. But Jason hadn’t been given the time to show you that same love. He lost you before he could love you.

Grief was a terrible, funny thing.

“I request Orpheus’ trial.”

The smile instantly vanished from the god’s face. The withering sack of bones pointed a finger at Jason, no muscles or tendons, just a sapphire ring that sucked in the surrounding light.

“Fool.” The slithering voice was both booming and soft, old and young, singular and many voices at once. A god who had lived for thousands of millennia. Was Death itself. Jason might have forgotten that fact until now. “It is not a trial but a blessing. Do you believe that you, a mortal, could bear the weight of a god’s blessing that so few demigod’s have managed to achieve- winning against me?”

“Well, maybe being a demigod was their downfall to begin with.”

The hissing air might have been a laugh, it could have been a chastisement.

The two stared at one another for what felt like eons. A flash of the memory of eight-year-old Jason also staring down the god. Jason’s resolve was concrete, he would not back down, he would not be afraid. You were taken from him too soon, too early. He would fight for you. He would do anything for you.

The resolve must have shown in his face. Hades rapped his fingers against the arm of the throne, contemplating, thinking. Jason wouldn’t put it past the god to be scheming.

“I shall grant you the trial of Orpheus. Make it to the Land of the Living without looking, and I shall restore to you what was taken. You have my word that no harm will come to your loved one while you walk the path. This oath I swear.” Hades smiled at Jason again, this one not as genuine. Ruby eyes sunken into a gray and brown skull, rotting teeth coated in grime and misery. Gold flecks could be seen between the gaps, as if the creature couldn’t help but dine in the assumption of his wealth.

No questions, no more bargaining, and no other promises. And so Jason turned and began walking.

It was easy, at first. He knew that you were there. He knew there was no other option.

He trusted that you were there, but he still pleaded with any deity that would listen just in case.

What had Diana told him years ago? Orpheus was never meant to win? He wouldn’t allow history to repeat itself. Diana was wrong. To love you was to save you, to fight his urge to look. He would not look.

But, he had to make sure; Jason shouted your name. His voice bounced off the walls- the only answer was the echo of his voice. He hoped that you could hear him. Jason shouted your name again. He hoped that you would just say something to ease his racing heart. Yet he was met with silence.

He trusted that you were there, but you never responded. He could trust that you were there.

Right?

What if it were a lie? What if your soul couldn’t be fought for? What if the trial was to look, to follow Orpheus’ footsteps? What if Hades had tricked him and you were- no. Jason remembered the story Diana had told him. Hades had sworn an oath that no harm would come to Eurydice. It was Orpheus’ fault for not staying the course. Jason would do it. He would stay the course and not look back for you.

If only you would respond to him.

Why weren’t you responding to him?

Could you not speak? Had Hades done something to you? Had the god hurt you- tortured you? Jason remembered his own torture all those years ago, and his blood ran cold.

The panic was rising faster, harder, more incessant now. Jason finally understood Orpheus. He finally understood the hopelessness of not knowing, of needing to ensure your presence. Just to be sure.

To love you was to look. He could ruin his resolve to be sure.

No.

It felt like days, weeks, as he walked forward. His resolve was concrete. He had spat at the feet of a god and had escaped Death before. He could do this for you.

Sunlight peaked out from the mouth opening. He heard rocks falling as if someone had tripped. He gritted his teeth.

Jason kept walking.

Jason stood on the green grass, the proof of the Land of the Living. The sun was beautiful- it was setting, your favorite time of day. He knew you would be thrilled to see it. But Jason would not turn. Both of you needed to be out of the Underworld for this to work. He took a few more steps, distancing himself from the cave, and he would wait for you to stand next to him. He had to take every precaution.

So Jason waited. Tears coated his cheeks as a soft wind twirled around him. He pictured the life he would give you, how he would love you every day for the rest of his life. His vows to protect you would never be broken. He needed this torment to be over, he needed to hold you, to kiss you, to give you the time to be loved by him.

A hand softly brushed across his neck. The light breeze brought your smell to his nose- perfect and alive and- Jason had never been happier. He would tell you every day how happy he was. He would buy you anything, say anything, do anything-

He finally- finally- turned around to see your face, tears blocking most of his vision.

But you were not there.

Jason’s head swiveled from the Land of the Living to the cave to the Underworld. There were only his footprints. He had waited. He did not look back once. He had done what was asked and now-

Howling laughter echoed from the cave to the Underworld. As if a hundred crows were cackling at him and his failure. A black mist crawled along the cave floor. It inched past the mouth and into the grass. Where the smoke touched, grass died and a trail of brown made its way towards Jason. As the mist gathered in mass across the walls of the cave and onto the ceiling, two glowing red eyes could be seen. Jason could just barely make out the silhouette outline of the death god.

“Liar!” Jason bellowed. He reached for a gun holster that was not there. “You swore an oath!” He would tear Hades to pieces- no matter if he were a god, this creature would be mauled by his bare hands.

“You thought you were clever all those years ago. Escaping the death that was rightfully mine to take. Now, I will keep the soul you thought was rightfully yours. Forever now promised to me.” Hades taunted.

Jason raced forward to the cave. The mist receded with each of his thundering steps. Hades was mocking him. Hades had tricked Jason just as he thought the bird had done so many years ago.

“A walk from the depths of a world down below, in which you failed. You escaped me years ago, boy. Even if you had looked, you would have failed.” A yellow smile broke through the smoke, the red eyes glinting in the setting sun. “Give Diana and Bruce my blessings.” Then Hades disappeared. Jason pushed himself harder, ran faster.

Your silhouette could be seen through the mist, your hand reaching out to Jason’s as he dove for you. He would grab you and take you far away and-

Jason slammed into a wall of rock as the cave was sealed before him. He pounded his fists, screaming until his voice gave out.

Jason bloodied his hands as he continued to hammer on the rock, praying to his strength that he would break through. It wasn’t fair- Jason knew the gods did not play fair, but they had rules. A god would not break their oaths by committing perjury. Hades believed he had righted a wrong done on to him all those years ago when Jason was brought back to life from the Lazarus Pit. Your soul for his was not a fair trade.

You were kind, and good, and everything Jason wasn’t. You had loved him for years, mourned him during his death, and welcomed him after his rebirth. You brought the sun and the moon and the stars to him, how your love for him was sacred and needed to be explored. You accepted all of him and made him a better human. The mere human that he was.

Jason slid to his knees before the rock, blood pooling as his aching fists rested on the grass. His lungs were on fire, his breaths coming in short spurts. The air smelt of burnt sugar, like nitroglycerin waiting to explode. His head emptied out all thoughts besides you. His blood was mixed with electricity, the adrenaline- the anger- still pumping through his system.

He was a human, not a demigod.

Jason no longer cared what a human would do at the feet of a god.

Jason had escaped Death twice before. He had completed Orpheus’ trial, had walked the entire route from the Land of the Dead to the Living without looking back. To love was not to look, but to fight. He fought for you, he would always fight for you. He was just a human, but he would do anything to get you back. His resolve was concrete. But now? His resolve was steel.

That anger pumped harder. Jason was wrath, he was fury.

What will a god do at the feet of wrath and fury?

#dc fanfic #robinsdearest #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood fanfic #have been obsessed with the tragedy of orpheus #orpheus by vincent lima #please send me asks or dms about if you like my work or not!! i promise i read them #extra long to make up for me being gone

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urangelsiren · 3 months ago

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Welcome Angel's to my side blog

Name: Allurèa

Age: 18

Birthday: Sept 10

Other Blogs: [main] @msallurea [girly side blog] @allureasdiary

Likes: cherry blossoms, orchids, cookies, gourmand scents, tiaras, diamonds, rose gold jewelry

Dislikes: loud noises, arrogance

Content: dark feminine, 18+, Victoria secret, seductive archetypes, my angel siren journey (something I came up with on my own), affirmations, bimbofication/dollification, self concept

Who inspired me: pr1sm subs, Megan fox in 2000s, adriana Lima, jennifer check, maddy perez, Victoria secret angels, playboy bunny models, video vixens

What made me create blog?: it was a bit sudden but I couldn't get the idea off my mind and decided to make this blog

#urangelsiren #ur next obsession #bimboification #dollification

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cuartoretorno · 1 year ago

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doyelikehaggis · 2 months ago

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25 Days of Sleighpairs: Blam | Blaine Anderson x Sam Evans (Glee) + “hot chocolate”

The Lima Bean wasn't exactly the ideal place to try and keep two kids distracted, especially when all they wanted to do was go and play in the snow that Sam had hoped would stop once they got into May. They whined, but he did his best; he gave them his phone to fight over and play games on, regretfully thinking about how he planned to sell it if his dad came home with that look on his face again for the millionth time in the last few weeks.

His parents hadn't wanted him to because they were worried about not being able to get a hold of him in an emergency, but he knew he'd probably get a few bucks for it, at least. Hopefully enough to convince the motel owners to switch their heating back on.

He was praying it would be.

"Sir." He looked up as a waitress approached their table in the far corner with a sheepish expression. She stopped close enough to be able to speak in a hushed tone. "I'm so sorry, but my manager's told me I need to ask you to leave. You haven't bought anything, and there's a policy..."

His heart dropped straight through his stomach. He had hoped that no one would notice them if they stayed in the corner and kept the noise down.

"Seriously?" he asked, and she nodded, a sympathetic look pinching her features. She was obviously just hoping he'd go without a fuss, but he felt the icy chill of winter hanging around long than it was supposed to every time the door opened. "Okay. Okay, uh, is there any way that we could just stay for another half hour?"

At least his parents should be back by then, hopefully having managed to find some money or sweet-talk the motel owners into turning their hot water back on. But the waitress shook her head.

"I'm really sorry," she said again. "It's policy. You've already been here over two hours, so, unless you buy something, I need to ask you to leave."

He glanced at Stacey and Stevie and fumbled in his pocket for his wallet, his fingers still stiff from the cold. His heart was pounding against his chest as he opened the wallet and found exactly what he knew he would. A few cents and quarters. Barely enough to make up a dollar, at most.

Flushing hot with embarassment, he quickly put it away again, dragging a hand over his face. He had to bite his cheek to stop his eyes from blurring as he cleared his throat.

"Okay. Uh, Stacey, Stevie," he said, getting their attention, "we're leaving now. Put your hats and coats back on, and I'll help you with your gloves and scarves."

"Where are we going?" Stacey asked.

"I don't know," he said honestly. They couldn't go back to the motel without heating, but walking around outside in the snow wasn't any better. "Maybe..."

"Sam?" The waitress stepped aside, allowing Blaine to move closer to the table, wearing a friendly smile as he furrowed his brows. "It's Sam, right? We've never been properly introduced, but I'm Blaine. Kurt's friend from Dalton?"

"Yeah, I know," he said as his embarassment grew. Just what he needed: an audience.

"Do you have time to talk? I'd love to finally get a chance, especially after all the good things Kurt had to say about you. That performance you did with Quinn at Sectionals was just beautiful." Hand on his heart, he casually added: "Please, stay. Ten minutes of your time is all it will cost, I promise."

Sam didn't know what to say. His eyes darted to the waitress, and she gave him a small smile and a nod, as if to tell him another ten minutes wasn't going to get the police called on him. When she left, he slumped in his chair out of relief, but he glanced at Blaine uncertainly.

Truthfully, the last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone, but he had just saved them from being thrown out into the street. He was grateful, but he didn't even know the guy; they'd only seen each other in passing, which was what made it all the worse when he realized what was going on.

"I'm just going to get a coffee, do you want anything?" he asked with big, innocent doe eyes as he pointed over his shoulder. "My treat, as a thank you for letting me steal some of your time."

Stevie chose that moment to interject. "I'm hungry. Can we get food?"

Rubbing his temple, Sam sighed, shifting uncomfortably in the chair as he shook his head and quietly said, "No, buddy, we can't. You can have something when we get home."

"But we don't have any food," Stevie protested, too loudly.

He cringed, wanting the ground to swallow him whole. He was about to scold him and deny what he had said, but it only got worse when he made eye contact with Blaine. He knew that expression on his face too well. He pitied him.

That was enough to make him want to walk out there and then. But he didn't. He looked at Stacey and Stevie and thought about the one slice of dry toast they'd had to share between them that morning. His own stomach churned uncomfortably. It wasn't fair on them.

Catching the look of defeat that must have been on his face, Blaine turned to the twins and said, "If it's alright with Sam, why don't we go and have a look at what they have? I think I saw them bringing out some fresh cookies..."

Sam watched him take them up to the counter until his vision started to blur. He bit his cheek and scrubbed at his wet eyes, trying to will himself not to have a breakdown in public. He had managed to avoid it so far.

When they returned to the table, they both had a cookie in hand and were already devouring them. It might have been all sugar, but at least it was something. Sam managed to compose himself, though the humiliation of it came crashing back down on him when Blaine placed a steaming cup in front of him.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I played it safe and got hot chocolate," he said as he pulled a chair over from the table next to them and sat beside him. He flashed him that smile again. "You seem like a hot chocolate kind of guy. Was I right?"

"You didn't have to... you didn't have to do that."

He glanced at him as Blaine brushed it off.

"We're not a charity case," he said more firmly, and he lowered his voice as Blaine's smile finally dropped. "I know that you know about... we don't need your pity."

"Sam, I don't pity you," Blaine said softly, and he cut him off when he tried to protest. "Look, maybe I overstepped. I'm sorry. But I wasn't lying, you know. I have actually been hoping we'd get a chance to meet properly.”

Sam leaned back, his eyes darting back over to Stacey and Stevie. They were covered in sugar and crumbs, but they looked happy. If their parents didn't come back with good news, it might be the last thing they had to eat until tomorrow.

"Thanks." He gingerly pulled the hot chocolate toward him and gave him a small smile. "You were right, by the way. I love hot chocolate."

Blaine chuckled, his mouth curving back up into that beaming smile as he ducked his head. He then said, “I can go, if that's what you want."

"No, it's cool," Sam said, "you can stay."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Blaine caught his eyes for a moment as he took a drink of his coffee. Heat crept up into Sam's face, but it wasn't embarassmet this time. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, to be honest. At the very least, he wasn't cold for the first time in a while, so it was a welcome feeling.

They stayed and talked for a little while, long enough for Sam's parents to text and tell him they were back at the motel and had semi-good news.

As they were getting ready to leave, Sam said, "Thanks again. I appreciate it."

"It was my pleasure," Blaine said sincerely and got to his feet. "Maybe we could hang out again soon? I know we have Nationals coming up, but maybe after?"

Sam hesitated, helping Stevie into his coat. "Uh, I don't know. I mean, I want to, obviously," he hastily added, averting his eyes under the guise of concentrating on helping Stacey put her scarf on. "It's just that I don't really know what I'm going to be doing after Nationals. Things are... rocky right now."

"Well, how about I give you my number?" Blaine suggested. "At least that way, we can keep in touch."

Sam swallowed down his protest. He didn't have the heart to turn him down again, even if he knew he probably wasn't going to have a phone for much longer.

"Yeah, sure."

Blaine wrote it down for him on a napkin and Sam took it with a forced smile. Without thinking, he jokingly said, "I've never gotten hot chocolate and a guy's phone number for my birthday before."

"Wait, it's your birthday? How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

He could tell from the look on his face that he was wondering why anyone would spend their sixteenth birthday in a coffee shop instead of throwing a massive party with all their friends.

"It's not a big deal," he said with a shrug.

"Of course it is," Blaine argued. "Sam, it's your sixteenth. Does anyone even know it's your birthday?"

He shook his head. "Just Quinn."

"Well, do you have any plans? With your family?"

"Not really. Like I said, it's not a big deal."

Blaine looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't, and Sam was grateful for that. His parents had felt awful that morning for not being able to get him anything. He had assured them it was fine, he understood, they needed all the money they had just to keep a roof over their heads.

They walked out together, then they parted ways with Sam promising to text Blaine later so he had his number. When they got back to the motel, they were greeted with warmth. His parents had managed to scrape some money together to get the hot water turned back on.

He nearly cried when they pulled out a sponge cake for him. His mom apologized that it wasn't more, and she did start crying. He pulled her into a hug, his eyes darting over the few belongings they had managed to squeeze into the room. He landed on his guitar. It had to be worth something. Something was better than nothing.

While his parents were putting Stacey and Stevie to bed, he slipped outside, huddling into his coat. He pulled the napkin out of his pocket and took out his phone.

All he sent was a simple: hey its sam :)

The response was almost instant. He found himself smiling as he typed back. It was easy to forget all of his problems for just a little while as they texted back and forth, even the fact that it was freezing and his hands were stiff.

#glee #blam #blaine x sam #blaine anderson #sam evans #rarepair rowboat #rowing the rarepair rowboat #so this is set between kurt transferring back to mckinley and the rumours episode #obviously kurt and blaine and aren’t dating in this au #otp: wolverine and cyclops #25 days of sleighpairs

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avastrasposts · 8 months ago

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The British Connection - ch. 1

This is a completed fic from early 2023 and in a small-ish fandom, but it was my first finished fic in a long time and I'm still very proud of it. Since The Boys is coming out with season 4 TODAY (!!!!) I thought I'd re-edit this fic and re-post for anyone who comes looking for some Billy Butcher fics after watching the new season.

Summary: Grace Mallory makes a reluctant Billy Butcher and The Boys team up with an MI6 operative sent over from London to track down a dangerous supe killing people on both sides of the pond. Billy is being his usual arsehole self but maybe opposites attract?

It's 14 chapters and complete and 'll be posting a new chapter every day

Warnings: canon typical violence, smut, fluff, Butcher being his usual grumpy and unreasonable self, nasty supes, guns etc.

Lieutenant-Colonel Grace Mallory had requested, no, demanded, Butcher’s presence at a meeting this damp January morning. He grumbled down his phone at the early hour she gave him but agreed to meet. Saying no to Mallory isn’t wise, especially since she’s the one paying the bills.

He finds the address she’s given him leading to an anonymous looking office building on a seedy side street in midtown. The entrance door opens after he rings the bell for the 16th floor, a small camera verifying his identity before he’s let in. The building is what you’d expect from a covert agency office, nothing betrays the nature of the activity on the inside.

As the lift takes him up to 16th he ponders on the nature of this meeting. It’s rare for Mallory to be in the city, even rarer for her to meet with the leader of The Boys. Things have been flowing rather smoothly the past few months. Minor supes were biting the dust almost on a weekly basis, information was coming in from reliable sources, coerced or otherwise, and Butcher felt sure that sooner rather than later they would find intelligence that would deal a hard blow to Vought and The Seven. Maybe Mallory had found something too sensitive to share electronically and set up this meeting, maybe this was it.

The lift arrives on the 16th floor and he steps out into a small reception area. A middle aged lady with greying hair sits behind a desk in front of a sturdy looking glass door. The slight green tinge to the glass lets Butcher know it’s bulletproof. The receptionist looks up as he steps out of the lift.

“Lieutenant-Colonel Mallory is expecting you, Mr Butcher. Down the hallway and to your right. Sign here”.

She hands him a pen and he signs his name to the visitors sheet, as if they don’t already know he’s in the building and will keep eyes on him until he’s left.

The receptionist pushes a button on her desk and the glass door clicks open, he grabs the handle and makes his way through, his heavy boots making squeaking noises on the cheap linoleum floor. The hallway beyond is lined with the same material, walls painted a nauseating lima bean green. He turns the corner and is met by another long hallway, blank doors on either side and at the end a conference room with large glass windows with the same green tinge.

Mallory is standing by a large table, her back turned against the door, looking at another woman in the room whom Butcher doesn’t recognise. She’s leaning over the table, hands splayed, studying an open file in front of her. She looks like an agent, that same anonymous black suit they all wear, white shirt, sensible shoes and, oh yes, a glimpse of a holster under her jacket. He can’t make out what gun she’s carrying but she’s definitely packing. At the sound of his squeaking boots approaching she looks up from the file and gives him a once over. He knows that look, it’s the same look he gives anyone who walks up to him, assessing the potential threat, finding weaknesses and making a worst case scenario plan in a split second. Yeah, this lady is definitely an agent.

The women's movement makes Mallory turn and look behind her. As she sees Butcher approaching she says something to the woman who closes the file in front of her and straightens up. Mallory walks over to the door and lets Butcher in by clicking a button next to it.

“William, thank you for coming,” she says as he walks through the door.

‘Ello, Mallory” he replies, “always a rare pleasure to see you in the city”.

He walks round the table so that he’s standing at the short end, back against the empty wall, clear view over the room.

“What’s the occasion?” He locks eyes with the other woman in the room. She moved as he moved, facing him with her side against the long table. Clearly whatever Mallory wants it involves this agent lady.

“Butcher, this is MI6 officer Edwards. She’s been sent over from London by her commanding officer to gather intelligence on a supe that we are also very interested in. As the MI6 mission objective closely matches our own desired outcome, it’s been decided she will work with you and your crew while she’s stateside.”

Mallory has kept a straight face up until now but her composure finally cracks and she gives a crooked smile at Butcher.

“And I thought it rather fitting to let you work with one of your own for a change”.

Edwards stretches out her hand towards Butcher but doesn’t make a move to close the distance between them.

“Eve Edwards, nice to meet you” she says and Butcher curses internally, Fuck!

Her accent cuts the air like glass and he’s got her pegged. Privileged, public school, Oxbridge, old money and all the connections you could need to make it in ol’ Blighty. He glares at Mallory but she’s either playing dumb or doesn’t understand the implications of her accent and its stark contrast to his own. In the US, class is based on money, in the UK you can be the richest wanker in the land but your family and your accent will decide what class you belong to. And Eve Edwards’s class has spent centuries fucking over everyone from Butcher’s.

“Billy Butcher, pleasure” he says to Edwards but he doesn’t offer his hand, neither does he cross the space between them. She drops hers without a word, the sarcasm in his voice is hard to miss.

“Why’d you put me up with this, Mallory?” Butcher barks, turning to her. “I decide who joins The Boys, it’s me own crew and not some CIA MI6 bullshit operation. And ‘specially not with some..”, he waves his hand in the other woman’s direction.

“We’re working for the same cause here Butcher” Mallory intervenes before he can finish his insult. “We’re sharing our intelligence with MI6 and they are sharing theirs with us so that we can stop this supe faster, before any more damage is done. And as an added bonus,” Mallory gestures to Edwards, “your team is strengthened by a seasoned MI6 officer who I’m sure will prove a very valuable asset.”.

“I’ve read your file, Butcher.” Edwards says before he has a chance to open his mouth again, pointing at the fat documents folder she closed as he arrived. “Former Royal Marines, former SAS, tours in Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia. If you were still in the UK we’d most likely be working together already. We’d probably even have served together in some of those places”.

She walks down the length of the table and puts her hand out again as she approaches him.

“I’m not joining your operation, we just need to work together on this one and working with someone who knows how MI6 operates is going to make this easier on both of us”.

Butcher stares down at her, he’s at least a good head taller than her, she barely reaches his shoulder, but the way she walked over, the way she stands in front of him now, even with her hand stretched out, tells him she’d be no pushover in a fight, even against him.

Fuck.

Furrowing his brow, he acknowledges her effort to win him over with a curt nod, convincing himself this is the easy way to do it. Mallory is not backing down. But he can’t make himself take her hand, instead he snarls at Mallory,

“Fuck it then, I’m in, and she’s in. But you better follow my orders, sunshine”, he growls back at Edwards who yet again has dropped her hand. “And you’re gonna ‘ave to change out of that fuckin’ suit, you look like an operative coming a fuckin’ mile off.”

Chapter 2

#billy butcher fic #karl urban fic #billy butcher #karl urban #the boys #billy butcher smut #billy butcher fluff

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forabeatofadrum · 1 year ago

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A beautiful day in the neighbourhood

Summary: Kurt goes home to Lima for the holidays. There, he meets his parents' new neighbours, the Andersons. Kurt specifically is drawn to their youngest son, Blaine.

Notes: Hello everyone! This is my Klaine Secret Santa gift for @twinkkurt! I was a bit nervous when I got your username, because I love your art so much and I, uh, wanted to impress you. I hope you like it. I really liked writing it.

An additional thanks to Beth @quizasvivamos, who helped with brainstorming the title.

Happy reading!

AO3 | S&C

Kurt’s staring out of the window of his parents’ house with a wistful smile on his face.

He loves New York with his whole heart, but he has to admit that Lima has its charm. Back when he was a teen, he never thought he’d think this way.

Maybe now that he no longer lives here, he’s able to look at it in a different way. It’s nice to be here, with the knowledge that he’ll eventually go back home. Besides, New York is too loud and eccentric and a part of Kurt thrives because of it, but another part of him has learnt to appreciate this quieter atmosphere of Lima.

Oh, and it helps that Kurt never has to run into anyone from high school ever again. All his closest Glee club friends have left Lima as well, so he has no reason to seek out anyone who might recognise him from school. No longer being a high schooler is definitely the biggest perk of living in New York. High school was the main reason he couldn’t ever appreciate the quiet life here, because his life was never quiet. He could never appreciate the small tight-knit community feel, because he didn’t feel like he was welcomed into it.

But now he’s an adult who only comes back to Lima every now and then to see family and friends who are also visiting.

Kurt sighs as he watches a neighbour walk his dog. The neighbour sees him staring and smiles and waves. This truly is different from the rapid pace of the big city. His neighbour in New York barely gives him the time of day and she’s moving out within a few days. Kurt will not miss her. This man, on the other hand, has already shown Kurt more kindness in these few seconds than the other neighbour has in years.

Also, Kurt’s never seen this man in his life. He certainly doesn’t remember him.

“That’s Mr. Anderson,” Kurt hears.

He looks over his shoulder. His dad is sat on the sofa with a book open on his lap, but he also noticed Mr. Anderson walking past the house.

“Is he new in the neighbourhood?” Kurt asks.

His dad nods.

“Yes, he and his wife moved here a couple of weeks ago from Westerville. Apparently they had been planning on moving to a smaller house ever since their youngest son moved out.”

“And they moved to a random suburb in Lima, of all places?” Kurt asks, bemused.

His dad barks out a laugh.

“I know it’s hard to believe for a big city lover, but people still willingly move to the Midwest,” his dad says with a jokey tone.

Kurt moves away from the window and forgets about Mr. Anderson. Instead, he cosies up against his dad and he watches a rerun of Drag Race. His dad keeps reading, since he’s not bothered by the noise. Carole later comes into the living room and when she sees Drag Race is on, she eagerly joins Kurt.

This is what Kurt loves about Lima.

This is what he misses the most when he’s in New York.

This is also one of the moments he misses his brother, but he doesn’t want to bring it up when Carole is trash-talking the judging section. Besides, Kurt’s pretty certain she misses him too at this moment. It goes unsaid.

He and Carole watch three episodes in a row when the doorbell rings. It’s the delivery of groceries. Kurt’s dad gives the delivery person a huge tip to celebrate the holidays and the three of them put them away while chatting about the holiday plans. Tomorrow, some extended family members are coming over for Christmas and Kurt and Carole are going to cook a grand meal for everyone, while Kurt’s dad is going to set up a makeshift bar.

Everyone is going to be perfect.

Hopefully.

But when Kurt and his family are finished putting away the groceries, Kurt realises that they’re missing an ingredient.

“Rosemary! Carole, we are missing the rosemary!” Kurt exclaims. He checks the receipt again, but it really isn’t on it. Which is good, because then they also didn’t pay for it, but they need the rosemary.

Carole realises she forgot to order it, which can happen, but now Kurt’s fucked.

“Calm down, Kurt,” his dad says, “I will drive to the store tomorrow morning before the guests arrive.”

“I appreciate it, dad,” Kurt pouts, “But Carole and I need to start now, because it needs to be in the fridge overnight!”

“Ah. That’s… a problem,” his dad admits.

But then Carole lets out a small gasp.

“Wait a second! Burt, doesn’t Pam have a little herb garden?”

Kurt’s dad thinks it over.

“Yes, she does,” he answers, “But it’s winter, Carole.”

“But she might have some that she’s harvested earlier in the year,” Carole points out, “And Pam is a more experienced gardener. If there’s a way to keep rosemary alive in winter, then she’d know it!”

“Oh, you have a point there. Can we ask if she has some to spare?”

“I think we can just ask her. She wouldn’t mind,” Carole continues, “Kurt can go, because he knows how much we need. He found the recipe on the internet!”

“Brilliant,” his dad says, “Great plan, Carole.”

“That’s why you’re married to me,” Carole jokes.

Kurt waves his arms to get his parents’ attention.

“Hi, hello,” he says, “I love this idea. Who’s Pam?”

“Pam Anderson, the new neighbour,” Carole answers.

“Mr. Anderson’s wife,” his dad adds for clarification.

“On it,” Kurt says.

Carole tells Kurt that the Andersons moved into the house left of theirs, which delights Kurt, since he never really liked Ms. Johnson and her weird grandson anyway. He grabs his coat, since it’s very cold outside, and tells his dad and Carole that he’d be back soon.

The Andersons have a festive wreath on their front door and it makes Kurt smiles. He rings the bell and waits for Mr. Anderson or his wife to open the door. He can already hear the dog bark and his smile widens.

The door opens and Kurt’s ready to introduce himself and ask if Pam is around, but when he sees the man who’s opened the door, he’s rendered speechless. It’s not Mr. Anderson, but it’s another man. He must be around Kurt’s age and he’s dressed in a cozy sweater with a cute checkered bowtie to top it all off.

Kurt’s dad mentioned that the Andersons have a son and this must be him. Kurt assumes he’s also visiting family for the holidays.

“Uh, hello?” the son asks after a short silence. He looks a bit confused and Kurt realises he’s standing on this porch in complete silence, staring at him.

Right. Not a great first impression.

Kurt quickly composes himself.

“Hi, uh, my name is Kurt,” he says and he mentally high-fives himself for being able to sound coherent, “My parents live next door. The Hummel-Hudsons.”

A look of understanding crosses the man’s face. Now Kurt is no longer a random person that came out of nowhere. That’s progress.

“Anyway, my stepmother said that your, uh, mother might have some spare rosemary? We don’t have any and we really need it for the recipe that we’re trying out.”

The man steps aside so that Kurt can come inside.

“Come on in, it’s too cold to wait outside.”

“Thanks.”

Kurt follows the man to the living room where he’s greeted by an enthusiastic dog. There are three other adults. Kurt recognises Mr. Anderson, but there’s also a woman, presumably Pam, and another man who looks slightly older than the son. The son and Kurt explain the situation and, as Carole predicted, Pam is eager to help out.

“Oh, I need to go outside to harvest some,” Pam says.

“If it’s too much of a hassle-”

“Nonsense,” Pam cuts him off, “I’ll be back in a jiffy. Blaine, can you find my easy shoes?”

“They’re probably still at the back door where you left them, iná,” the son, who’s apparently named Blaine, says.

“Smartass,” Pam jokes.

Kurt tells Pam how much he and Carole need and Pam goes outside. Kurt’s standing awkwardly in this family’s living room, but luckily, the dog takes an interest in him, so Kurt has something to do.

“You like pets?” he says while petting the huge Bernese mountain dog.

“Oh, she adores them,” Blaine says.

“Who’s a good girl?” Kurt coos.

“Well, she wasn’t a good girl earlier today when she made me walk five extra blocks,” the still unnamed man says, “She’s strong and doesn’t listen when she doesn’t want to.”

“She got that from you then, Cooper,” Mr. Anderson teases.

“Dad!”

Kurt smiles. He likes this family. He can see they all treat each other kindly and that they are close, the same way his family works. Pam comes back with a handful of rosemary for Kurt and he thanks her profusely.

“No biggie,” she says, “Happy holidays.”

Blaine walks Kurt towards the door and they don’t say much, which is fine by Kurt, because then he has less opportunity to embarrass himself. He hopes he isn’t red in the face and if he is, then hopefully Blaine will think it’s because of the cold.

“Thanks again,” Kurt says and leaves.

Once he’s back in his own kitchen, he hands the herbs to Carole, who’s delighted. She’d already started meal prepping.

“Did you know that Mr. and Mrs. Anderson’s sons are visiting?” Kurt asks.

“Oh, no I wasn’t aware.”

“Me neither.”

“Have you met him- them before?”

“Only Cooper, the eldest,” his dad answers, “He helped his parents move in. The youngest couldn’t make it because of his studies. Cooper is… interesting.”

He and Carole share a private smile and Kurt needs to remind himself to ask about that later, but now he has a more pressing matter.

“And the youngest?”

Carole shrugs.

“Pam says he barely has time to visit, which everyone dislikes, but we get it.”

Kurt also gets it. He wishes he could be here with family more often.

“I did hear that he lives in New York as well!” Kurt’s dad says. Now, that is interesting. “Cooper lives in LA, and Blaine lives in New York. I mean, he’s called Blaine, right?”

He directs that last question to Carole, but Kurt answers it.

“Yeah, he’s named Blaine. I just met him.”

“Oh lovely,” Carole says, “What are the odds? Maybe you two can meet up in New York.”

“… I barely know him, Carole,” Kurt says quietly.

“So?” Carole says back, “Nowadays, people your age meet each other online. I don’t think that barely knowing anyone is a barrier these days.”

“She has a point,” Kurt’s dad adds.

“Alright. Alright,” Kurt says.

The truth is that it sounds nice to get to know Blaine a bit more. Kurt’s not stupid. He understands that he finds Blaine cute. It’s been a while since he met a guy who immediately renders him speechless, but Kurt also knows from experiences that looks aren’t everything. He’s here in Lima to see him family, not to jump on the neighbours’ son.

He and Carole continue their meal prepping and the conversation moves away from Blaine.

The next day is filled with joy. Kurt barely has time to see his dad and Carole, so he definitely doesn’t have time to see his extended family.

Everyone likes what he and Carole prepared and Carole points out that everyone should thank Pam as well.

After dinner, Kurt’s aunts prepare the desert and Kurt’s younger cousins beg him to go outside with them.

“Come on, it’s snowing!”

Kurt has to admit that snow also is more enjoyable here than in New York, because in New York, snow feels more like a nuisance blocking Kurt’s way. He’s constantly busy, getting from one place to the other. Here, Kurt has no reason to leave the neighbourhood today. They all go outside to make snow angels and what not.

Suddenly, Kurt hears a somewhat familiar voice.

“See, Squirt, people in this neighbourhood know where it’s at!”

Kurt follows the sound of the voice. Cooper is standing in the doorway of his parents’ house, decked out in winter clothes. Kurt can see Blaine behind Cooper and he’s shivering. He’s talking to Cooper, but he’s too far away for Kurt to understand.

“Coop, close the door,” Kurt can make out at one point.

Cooper says something back before going outside and closing the door behind him. Then he waves at Kurt.

“Hi, merry Christmas, forgive my stupid brother,” Cooper says loudly, probably so that Blaine can also hear it, “He’s a New Yorker, so he doesn’t appreciate snow enough. But I barely see this white goodness in my life, so I am out and about!”

“Tell your brother that I am also a New Yorker so he has no reason to stay inside,” Kurt jokes and Cooper’s eyes widen.

“Great idea!” he says and immediately goes back to the house.

Kurt and his cousins watch how Cooper’s locked out and how he’s demanding Blaine to let him in.

“Who is he?” one of Kurt’s cousins ask.

“Son of the new neighbours,” Kurt answers.

“Is he also coming out to play?”

“I think so.”

“Cool.”

Cooper manages to get in and five minutes later, he and Blaine come outside. Cooper immediately bonds with Kurt’s younger cousins. Blaine stands aside and Kurt takes a deep breath. He can be sociable. He’s a kind neighbour!

“Hey,” he says casually.

“Hi.”

“Not the biggest fan of snow, I hear?”

Blaine shrugs.

“I am, actually, but I just don’t feel like hanging out with my brother in the snow.”

“Why is that?” Kurt looks at Cooper, who’s started building a snow hut with Kurt’s cousins.

“He’s cool, pun intended, with other people, but ever since we were little he’d be kind of an ass. He’d try to put snow down my back, for example,” Blaine explains.

Kurt winces. That is kind of a dick move.

But at least he still has a brother. And even though Blaine sounds genuinely irritated, Kurt understands that Blaine doesn’t actually hate Cooper for the snow thing. After all, Blaine still could’ve stayed inside.

“You did come out here,” Kurt points out.

“I kind of have you to blame for that,” Blaine teases.

“Oh?”

“Cooper said you’re from New York. I had been using my New York status against him.”

Kurt laughs.

“Oh, don’t get me started on snow in New York.”

“Pffff, yeah,” Blaine says, “Good thing the subway is underground, but getting there, trudging through a thick layer of snow? Hell.”

“Hah, yes!” Kurt says and they fall into a comfortable silence. They watch everyone else have fun, and Kurt has an idea. He bends down to make a little snowball and shows it to Blaine.

Blaine raises an eyebrow.

“Now that your brother is occupied with keeping my cousins busy… are you in for a snowball fight?”

Blaine has an amused look on his face.

“You know what. Why not?”

Kurt’s aunts asked everyone to come inside, since dinner is ready. Kurt and his cousins are huddled together around the table, getting warm again. Everyone had a lot of fun and time flew by. Kurt didn’t even realise that his aunts were asking him to come in, since he was running around like a madman, trying to hit Blaine with his massive snowball.

And now Kurt’s enjoying his desert, but he’s still thinking about Blaine. It was really fun, so maybe Carole is right. Maybe he can ask if Blaine wants to meet up in New York.

What’s the worst that can happen? Blaine can say no.

Okay, that thought is terrifying.

But he can also say yes.

Kurt doesn’t actually talk to Blaine the day after. He only sees him in the morning, when Blaine passes the window. It’s his turn to walk the dog. Kurt and Blaine wave at each other, but that’s it.

In the afternoon, Cooper walks the dog and in the evening, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson take him out. Kurt’s almost sad when he doesn’t get the chance to wave at Blaine.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are out of sight and Kurt lets out a pathetic, sad sigh.

“Dear lord, just ring the bell already!” his dad says.

“What do you mean?” Kurt feigns ignorance, but he’s not surprised that his dad sees right through it. His dad has always known him the best.

“Don’t think I missed the smitten look on your face, kiddo,” his dad laughs, “Your thoughts were elsewhere. And your cousins mentioned that you and Blaine seemed to hit it off.”

“He is really nice,” Kurt admits.

His dad hums.

“And handsome.”

His dad hums again.

“And he lives in New York.”

“He does!”

Kurt looks outside again, because for a split second he stupidly believes he is in some Hallmark movie where Blaine appears outside his window to express his adoration.

There’s no one, obviously. He and Blaine have only known each other for a short time.

But as his dad and Carole point out, this doesn’t have to be the end of it. Kurt goes home to New York just before New Year’s and then he might meet up with Blaine and get to know him better.

Then Kurt thinks: Fuck it, he deserves a cute holiday romance.

“You know what, dad? I will go see him tomorrow.”

“Wonderful!” his dad says, and he’s so genuinely happy for Kurt, it makes Kurt’s heart swell.

“Burt says you’re going to ask Blaine from next door out on a date,” Carole says during breakfast and Kurt almost spits out his food.

“Dad!”

“What?” his dad asks, not bothered at all.

“I didn’t say that,” Kurt quickly says, “I said I am going to ask if he wants to meet up once we’re back in New York.”

“With the intention of dating him.”

“With the intention of getting to know him,” Kurt corrects, although he mentally adds ‘and potentially date him later’, but his dad doesn’t have to know that yet, although as usual, his dad knows better.

“You can get to know him on a date,” Carole says, feigning innocence.

“Oh my god,” Kurt hides his head in his hands.

“Don’t mind us, Kurt,” his dad sounds amused, “Or, don’t mind Carole. I don’t want to invade your privacy. You do what you want to do.”

“Hey!” Carole says back.

“Oh my God,” Kurt repeats, with his head still in his hands, but he can feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He acts embarrassed, and maybe he is a little bit, but he’s also glad to have such a supportive family.

They really want him to be happy. Kurt knows so many people who don’t have it as good as him, so he’s not taking this for granted.

If Finn were still around, he’d volunteer to be Kurt’s personal wingman instantly.

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep you guys up to date,” Kurt relents, “I plan on seeing him later today.”

Kurt smells the opportunity for a little fashion moment, so he needs to make use of that. Most of his wardrobe is still in New York, but he likes to dress for the occasion, and asking his neighbours’ son to hang out is definitely a big one.

The conversation shifts to other topics, like his dad’s garage or Carole’s latest interest in diamond painting, and they finish their breakfast. Kurt helps out with the cleaning up and then it’s time to go up to his room to rummage through his limited wardrobe.

He’s going through his closet when the doorbell rings. Kurt doesn’t pay attention to it, because he can hear his dad moving around to open it, but his interested is piqued when his dad says it’s for him.

Kurt hastily puts on some clothes, since he was a bit undressed because he was trying on outfits, and he goes downstairs.

He stops halfway on the staircase when he sees Blaine in the hallway.

“Hey,” Blaine says.

“Hey?” Kurt says, unable to hide his confusion.

Oh, he also looks terrible. He picked the worst combination of clothes in his rush to get down.

Of course this happens to him when Blaine’s at the door. And don’t even mention his hair. It’s a monstrosity! Of course Blaine looks prim and proper.

“I’ll leave you two at it,” Kurt’s dad says and promptly turns around to leave, although once his back it towards Blaine, he winks towards Kurt.

The mix of embarrassment and happiness about his dad and Carole’s interest in Kurt’s love life returns.

“Hey,” Blaine says again.

“Oh. Hello,” Kurt finally comes down.

“I kinda wanted to talk to you before I leave.”

“Leave?”

Blaine nods.

“I’m flying back to New York later today,” Blaine clarifies.

“Oh.”

“I need to move apartments, so I couldn’t stay for longer,” Blaine continues.

“Right.”

“Which sucks, because I like seeing my parents.”

“Yeah.”

“Cooper not so much,” Blaine says, but again, Kurt can hear the jokey undertone.

Kurt smiles.

“Yeah.”

“But, uhm, I kinda wanted to ask if I could see you again? In New York, I mean? To, uh, chill?”

“To chill, huh?” Kurt says, amused, and Blaine turns a bit red.

“Weird choice of words,” Blaine agrees, “But what do you think?”

“Yes, sure,” Kurt tries to act casual and cool, but his mind is reeling. Blaine wants to see him too! Man, the moment Blaine’s out of the door, Kurt will probably jump up and down with excitement.

“Neat,” Blaine sounds relieved, “Can I have your number then?”

“Yeah!” Kurt answers and they exchange numbers.

“Alright. Cool. I mean, yeah, cool!” Blaine stumbles a bit over his words, which Kurt finds endearing.

“Cool,” Kurt echoes.

“Then see you soon!”

“See you soon,” Kurt says back.

Blaine leaves after that and as predicted, Kurt leans against the front door with a huge, disbelieved grin on his face. He might look like utter shit and his hair is a mess, but who cares, cause Blaine wants to hang out with him!

“And?”

Kurt looks up to see Carole’s head peeking around the corner.

Kurt’s smile widens.

Kurt isn’t in a rush to get back to New York, since he wants to savour every moment with his family and he meets up with friends, but knowing that Blaine is waiting for him in New York does make him more eager to leave.

Okay, Blaine isn’t actively waiting for Kurt, but Kurt can dream, right?

They’ve texted a little bit over the past few days, but now that Kurt’s actually leaving, he sends more messages.

“Kurt, get off your phone! We need to say goodbye!” Carole scorns, but it’s nor serious. Besides, she has a point. His dad and Carole and about to drive home from the airport, and Kurt’s on his phone to text Blaine.

“Sorry,” Kurt pockets his phone.

“You’ll see him enough,” his dad says.

“Ideally, yes,” Kurt says with a smile. He’s shooting his shot.

Not immediately, though. He doesn’t want to come off as overeager. He’s going home now, then he’ll celebrate New Year’s tomorrow with some friends, and then he’ll see if he can meet up with Blaine.

He and his parents say goodbye. As usual, the hug between him and his dad lasts a long time, but it’s time for Kurt to go. This really is the worst part of going back home. He knows his dad and Carole will miss him too.

New York is messy, loud, and gorgeous.

He takes the elevator to his floor. Then, he stops in front of his door and casts a look to his neighbour’s door. There’s a new rainbow doormat in front of it, which Kurt sees as a confirmation that his shitty neighbour is truly gone.

Once he’s inside, he lets out a sigh of relief. He’s so ready to just unpack and relax. He’ll need to do some groceries later, but now he wants to “chill”, as Blaine said.

So that’s what he does. He unpacks, makes some coffee, and browses social media on his phone in peace. He texts Blaine, telling him he’s arrived home, and he also checks in with some other friends about tomorrow’s New Year’s plans.

Yet, life continues. Groceries are part of adult, independent life. There’s no grocery delivery here for Kurt, so Kurt sighs and decides to just do it instead of procrastinate, which is something he’s proud of. He put on appropriate winter attire and grabs a shopper.

When he’s outside and turns around to lock his door, the neighbour’s door opens. Kurt doesn’t really pay attention, since he needs to lock his door. He’s forgotten once before, so he always pays attention here.

Once everything’s locked up, he turns to his side to introduce himself, since unlike his previous neighbour, Kurt does have manners, but his words die in his throat.

Blaine is standing on the rainbow doormat with a surprised look on his face.

“Hello neighbour,” he’s the first to break the shocked silence.

“Hello.”

“Long time no see-”

“What a surprise-”

It falls silent again, but it’s not an awkward silence. In fact, Kurt’s amused by this whole situation, because what are the odds? Blaine’s shocked expression has also been replaced by a more amused one.

“You’re my new neighbour,” Kurt sounds disbelieved.

“I see,” Blaine says back, “Hello, neighbour, again.”

The two of them laugh.

“I’m… going to go,” Kurt holds up his shopper.

“Oh,” Blaine opens the pocket of his jacket and takes out a folded up shopper, “Groceries?”

“Yes!” Kurt says. This is so weird. “I just got home from Ohio, so I have absolutely nothing.”

“I get it. Anyway, great to see you. I’m new here. Where do you get your groceries?”

“You haven’t done any grocery shopping since you moved here?” Kurt asks.

Blaine turns a bit red.

“Uh. No. I have.”

“Okay?” Kurt says with a frown.

“Sorry,” Blaine says and then lets out an awkward laugh, “This- I- Okay. I didn’t know how else to ask if you wanted to hang out now.”

Kurt’s eyes widen in surprise. Neither of them had made actual plans to “chill” yet. Kurt didn’t want to seem to eager, and Blaine hadn’t made any concrete suggestions yet.

Kurt’s down to hang out, even though he didn’t expect their first meet-up in New York to be for grocery shopping, but then he also didn’t expect Blaine to be his new neighbour.

“Sure,” Kurt says with a smile.

And that’s how they end at a coffee shop called Think Coffee instead of the grocery store. Kurt’s reasoning was that it’s easier to get coffee beforehand and before Kurt could apologise for randomly suggesting a coffee date (is it a date?), Blaine agreed to it.

Of course, they discuss how funny it is that their parents live next to each other, and now they also live next to each other.

“My dad mentioned that your family is originally from Westerville, I think?”

Blaine nods.

“Yes. Cooper and I went to a boarding school there, but we were day students. Do you know Dalton Academy?”

The name does ring a bell.

“From the Warblers?”

Blaine looks amazed.

“Yes!” he utters in disbelief, “That’s my former glee club!”

“Really?” Kurt asks, “I’m from the New Directions.”

Blaine shoots him a quizzed look.

“McKinley High, in Lima,” Kurt clarifies.

“… That sounds familiar.”

“This is insane,” Kurt says before taking a sip of his coffee. He needs to let this sink in. The day has certainly turned out to be different than expected.

“Yeah. I’m a Dalton boy.”

“And then your parents moved to Lima of all places, when you graduated.”

Blaine snorts.

“I know right?” he says, but then he smiles, “Although, it led to me meeting you, so I cannot hold it against them anymore.”

“I agree.”

“And you? Did you grow up in that house?”

Kurt shakes his head.

“No, but I did grow up in Lima. My dad got married to Carole a few years back, and then they bought that house for the four of us to live in.”

“Four?”

“Me, my dad, my stepmother and my stepbrother,” Kurt answers.

“I didn’t know you had a brother!” Blaine sounds surprised, “God, I hope he’s not as bad as Cooper.”

“Oh… Well… No,” Kurt says slowly.

“Did I miss him during my visit? I mean, my parents never mentioned him, so does he live out of the state?”

Kurt sighs. This part is always hard, painful, and eventually awkward. He didn’t plan on bringing up the dead brother story, but on the other hand, he does want to get to know Blaine and he hopes Blaine wants to get to know him as well. Well, it must be. Otherwise Blaine wouldn’t have joined him on this supposed grocery trip.

“He died, actually,” Kurt says quietly.

As expected, the silence stretches out and it becomes more awkward and awkward.

“Oh. Kurt. I’m… sorry,” Blaine eventually says, although he seems a bit lost for words.

“It’s okay.” It’s not, but it’s okay that Blaine doesn’t know what to say. Kurt can’t blame him. How do you properly react to hearing a young person died?

“Oh, shit!” Blaine suddenly exclaims, “And here I am, complaining constantly about Cooper! That’s such a dick move!”

“It’s okay,” Kurt says again, “You didn’t know. And besides, it was fun to see you two interact.”

“Yeah?” Blaine asks.

Kurt hums.

“Yes. It’s clear that your complaining and his teasing comes from a place of love. Me and Finn would do the same. God, you have no idea how many times I complained about his habits, or how many times he’d playfully tease me for my brooch collection.”

Kurt would give anything to hear Finn playfully mock his hippo brooch again.

“Can you tell me about him?” Blaine asks.

So Kurt does. He tells Blaine that he and Finn didn’t really like each other at the beginning, but then they both joined glee club, although it turned out that Finn got blackmailed by their glee club director who had planted a stash of weed in Finn’s locker. (“What?” “It’s not important, Blaine.”) That’s how they slowly became friends, and Kurt eventually developed a crush on Finn and decided to pair up his dad and Finn’s mom in an attempt to get closer to Finn. (“Excuse me?” “It’s in the past, Blaine.”) But eventually their parents got married and Kurt’s crush died out and they became stepbrothers. It was a bit rocky at the beginning, but they grew to love each other as family and dropped the “step” part quickly.

“So yeah, we didn’t always see everything eye to eye, but that’s just how family is. I miss him, especially now, during the holidays.”

“I can imagine.”

“The entire family always shows up, and it’s glaringly obvious that someone is missing,” Kurt laments, “I don’t like to dwell on it, neither do my dad and Carole, but it’s on our minds, especially when I see my cousins together, or when you and Cooper banter. But it also makes me think of good memories with him, like the time he and his friend Puck dressed up in Star Wars outfits for Christmas.”

“Oh. Amazing.”

“Or when Carole told Finn he needed to help out for Christmas dinner, and he burned it all down, so we ended up eating soup out of a can that year.”

Kurt chuckles and Blaine also lets out a laugh.

“He sounds lovely,” Blaine says.

“He was. Most of the time.”

They laugh again.

Kurt lifts his cup to get another sip, only to find it empty. Blaine also wiggles his cup around.

“Time flies,” he says.

Kurt hums in agreement. He gets out of his seat.

“Grocery time?” he asks.

“Oh. Yeah. Groceries,” Blaine sounds bewildered. It’s that Kurt definitely needs to eat, otherwise he also would’ve forgotten.

Kurt leads them to the grocery store he always goes to, which is one that Blaine hadn’t seen before, so that’s a nice extra. Kurt needs to buy a lot, since he just got home after a trip to Lima, but Blaine only needs some things. Still, he sticks around to talk to Kurt and so that they can walk home together.

“Hello neighbour.”

Blaine looks a bit surprised. He probably didn’t expect Kurt to just knock, but Kurt’s feeling daring. Yesterday’s coffee and grocery trip-slash-date was a lot of fun and Kurt decided to just go for it.

“Hello,” Blaine says back.

“Do you have plans for this New Year’s?”

“Yes?” Blaine says, which is fair. Kurt should’ve expected that. “But why are you asking?”

Kurt’s asking because he woefully fantasised about kissing Blaine, if he wants, when the clock hits midnight.

“Oh. Well, I am meeting up with some friends and I wanted to see if you wanted to join, but it makes sense you already have plans.”

Kurt’s about to awkwardly say goodbye and admit defeat, but Blaine stops him.

“I’m meeting my friends at eleven in the evening. I still have time. When will you meet your friends?”

“Also later today,” Kurt answers. Around ten, or something. It wasn’t very clear. It’s more one of those “drop by whenever you want” parties. He just wanted to check if Blaine were interested in joining.

“Sooo,” Blaine draws out the word, “I don’t think I can make it to your friend’s party, but what are your plans now?”

Now? Well, Kurt planned on binge watching trashy TV, order food and wait till it’s time to go see his friends.

“Nothing. I am free,” Kurt answers.

Blaine opens his front door further and steps aside.

“Feel free to come in, then,” Blaine says with a smile and how can Kurt refuse. He didn’t plan on this, but he isn’t mad about it.

“Thank you.”

Blaine gives Kurt a small tour of his still bare apartment. It’s clear that he’s only just moved in. Blaine tells Kurt that beforehand he lived in a shitty dorm room, so he was ecstatic when he found this relatively cheap apartment.

Kurt can relate. He used to live in Bushwick in a place that didn’t have proper walls. This building is still not the most luxurious, but it is an upgrade!

“My dad mentioned you moved here for your studies,” Kurt recalls.

Blaine nods.

“Yeah. I’m go to NYADA. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

Oh, Kurt’s heard of NYADA. He got accepted into NYADA as well, but he turned it down to pursue an education in fashion instead. But he knows how hard it is to get into NYADA.

The conversation quickly turns into a long and winded discussion about the current Broadway season and how other shows got robbed at previous Tony Awards ceremonies.

Blaine also shows off his new coffee machine (“Got it as a Christmas present!”), so Blaine makes Kurt a fancy cappuccino. It’s so comfortable to be around Blaine and Kurt’s glad that Blaine likes him too.

An hour later, they’re on Blaine’s couch, huddled underneath a shared fleece blanket, and they’re eating snacks that Kurt brought over from his place while watching a Broadway bootleg. Kurt adores this show, but he’s having a hard time paying attention to it.

How can he, when Blaine’s so close?

He keeps staring at Blaine, so of course Blaine notices at one point.

“Something on my face?” he asks with a jokey tone.

Kurt doesn’t answer. He knows what he wants. He puts his hands on Blaine’s cheeks and pulls him in for a kiss.

Blaine kisses back and he wraps his arms around Kurt to pull him even more closer.

Kurt had wanted to kiss him at midnight, but he couldn’t wait any longer. There are no actual fireworks now in the background, but that doesn’t matter. Kissing Blaine already feels like fireworks are going off.

They keep kissing until they remember that they need to breathe.

“Woah,” Blaine sounds out of breath.

“Woah indeed,” Kurt echoes him.

The two of them stare at each other before Blaine throws himself on Kurt and kisses him again.

Later that evening, they’re finally finishing the bootleg. They got a bit preoccupied, so they weren’t able to watch all of it.

Both Kurt and Blaine cancelled their plans. They want to spend this New Year’s with each other. Outside, the city of New York is alive and bustling, filled with people who are ready to go wild and party. But Kurt and Blaine are fine, cuddling together in Blaine’s new apartment in their neighbourhood.

It’s a perfect way to start the new year and Kurt wouldn’t have had it any other way.

End notes: Here ya go, Arden! Your wishlist was an absolute delight and I actually had a hard time narrowing it down, because I wanted to include as much as possible. This fic uses the "genre: alternative universe", "genre: fluff", "genre: romance", "location: Ohio", "location: New York", "age: young adult/college", "designer!Kurt", "actor!Blaine", "preferred theme: holiday-themed" and of course "other favourite tropes/story elements: neighbours".

Happy holidays!

#holy fuck I wrote #2023 #klaine #glee #oneshot #klainesecretsanta2023

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 4 months ago

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Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 43

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 1567

Warnings: Mention of death/near-death and childbirth complications

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Also, I'm so sorry for the delay on this chapter. It's been a rough couple of months because my company decided to do layoffs and unfortunately, I was in the layoff group ☹️ I know it's short but I do hope you enjoy!

Chapter Songs: Every Storm Sweet Nothings

***

Hangman

The muffled noise of the hustle and bustle in the hospital hallway outside reminded Jake of many things, namely that he survived his brother's attack. He used it to ground him to reality while he slowly got dressed. Coyote had gone to retrieve his truck to bring both Jake and Ghost back to her place since Hangman's was still technically considered a crime scene. Ghost had left to officially check him out of the hospital. Matt had gone to the police station at their request to assist with something in the assault and embezzlement cases against Nick, but he'd promised to come to Ghost's later to help out.

A knock on his door caught his attention, and without turning around, he called for them to come in. It opened, and Ghost said, "You have a visitor."

"I hardly call you a visitor when you've practically lived in this room with me since I got here," he joked, trying to make his girlfriend laugh. She'd barely done so since she'd broken down about the guilt she felt over the entire situation, and Hangman used any opportunity he could to make Ghost laugh, to let her know it wasn't her fault, to let her know he didn't blame her for what happened, and to assure himself that Ghost had made it out alive as well. Her silence was deafening, and hearing her laugh made him believe in her physical presence when he couldn't touch her.

A different, weaker female voice replied, "Ghost isn't referring to herself."

Against his better judgment, Hangman whirled around, instantly regretting the action when pain lanced up his abdomen. He would've reacted to it had he not seen Juliette standing in the doorway; Ghost stood at her side, arm-in-arm, to support her friend and ensure she didn't collapse to the ground.

"Hey, Hangman," Juliette greeted with a small but sincere smile. "You're looking well for a guy who got stabbed multiple times."

Jake strode over to her, saying, "You look good for someone who died and came back."

He enveloped her in a giant, gentle hug, relieved to know his best friend was alive and well. Despite her fragile appearance, Juliette hugged him fiercely. "Sounds like we both almost met Death."

"Yeah, try not to do that again. I don't think my heart could handle it, and I know Rooster's couldn't.

"He's going to be a complete Mother Hen when we get home," Juliette groaned, pulling away from Jake.

"As he should," Ghost and Hangman replied simultaneously. The former added, "How are the twins doing?"

"Doing well, all things considered. We should be able to take them home next week." Juliette glanced up and down at Hangman. "You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, I promise. Are you?"

Juliette nodded. "Yeah. A little shaken, but okay."

"If it wasn't for you nailing Nick on the head with that baseball bat, I'm not sure we'd all be standing here," Ghost remarked, gently squeezing her friend's arm.

"Don't do drugs, kids." Hangman's joke earned a grin from Juliette and a small smile from Ghost. He ached to reach for her but decided Ghost wouldn't appreciate the gesture in front of her friend because Juliette would pick up on the hidden message and ask what was wrong when all she needed to do was focus on recovering herself. "How'd you escape Bradshaw's watchful eye?"

"A lot of convincing and a little bit of sneaking out while he went to get the Bronco," Juliette confessed sheepishly, scrunching her face up with the knowledge she'd undoubtedly be reprimanded by her fiance.

"Which was not appreciated," came Rooster's voice behind them. All three of them jumped at his sudden appearance. He'd come from around the corner with the most impeccable timing, eyeing his fiancee disapprovingly. "You're lucky your mom was there to tell me where you were."

Ghost moved aside to let Rooster support Juliette, joining Hangman's side. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him, savoring the moment of being able to make such a gesture without repercussions or questions.

Rooster shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Take me to bed or lose me forever?" Juliette suggested with a playful gleam in her sapphire eyes.

"The only reason you're getting into a bed is to rest." Kissing her on top of the head, Rooster then turned to Ghost and Hangman. "Do you two need a ride?"

"No, Coyote's picking us up. Thanks, though."

"All right. If you two need anything-"

"We'll call Coyote because you-" Ghost pointed a firm finger at Rooster- "will be taking care of your wife and kids. On the other hand, if you need anything from me-"

"Us," Hangman corrected.

"Neither of you," Juliette interrupted sternly. "One of you has a severe concussion, the other got stabbed and nearly died, so you're taking care of yourselves and each other and no one else until you're better. Understood?"

"The minute one of us can drive, we're at your disposal. No arguments," Ghost declared with equal seriousness.

Juliette narrowed her eyes at her friend. Hangman might've relented under the intensity of it, but Ghost held firm in her statement. "Fine, but don't overdo it when you're better. Concussions take a while to recover from."

"Trust me, I know." Ghost ruefully rubbed the back of her head, and Hangman flashed back to her high school car wreck. His heart lurched at the memory because it'd terrified him then to see her stumbling out of her totaled car in a daze, and it still horrified him now, especially after what they'd just gone through. "We'll see you soon, though, okay?"

Bidding each other goodbye, the couples parted ways. Hangman watched Rooster and Juliette walk away, the latter leaning heavily onto her husband. Worry gnawed at Hangman, and he asked quietly, "Do you really think she's okay?"

Ghost hesitated for a moment before responding. "No. I don't think she is."

***

Rooster

Watching my wife, I noticed the smile on her face slowly fade until it wholly disappeared by the time we reached home. I tried to think of something, anything, to say to her, but nothing came to mind. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she was going through. In the span of twenty-four hours, she'd been told to go to the hospital for her pre-eclampsia, walked into a fight where two men were trying to murder her friends and family, had a seizure, had an emergency C-section, died, and came back. That was a lot for anyone to handle, even for someone as strong as my wife, and I felt so useless in not being able to do anything about it for her.

I helped Juliette out of the car, and entering the house, her melancholy momentarily disappeared to greet Raptor and Lightning. She knelt on the floor, hugging and kissing our dogs, who acted peculiarly and uncharacteristically reserved, almost like they sensed their mom's fragile state.

"Hi, babies," Juliette whispered, kissing them on their heads. "Momma's okay. I'm okay."

Although subtle, I heard the crack in her voice at the end, and I wondered if her telling the dogs she was okay was more for herself than for them. I sat on the floor beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Juliette said nothing at the contact; she simply continued petting the dogs. For five minutes, we sat in silence. For five minutes, I watched Juliette's face slowly redden, watched tears brim her sapphire eyes, felt her body begin to tremble until I finally softly said, "Jules."

Her composure crumbled, and for the first time in my life, I watched in horror as my wife completely and utterly broke down. Without a word, I pulled her into my arms and cradled her while she wept. Raptor and Lightning lay on the floor on each side of me, flanking us protectively.

"I'm so sorry," Juliette rasped when her sobs had somewhat abated.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I managed to reply despite the painful knot in my throat. I wanted to cry, too, not only because it dawned on me once more how close I'd come to losing my wife but because she felt she had to apologize for it.

"I nearly widowed you and orphaned our children," Jules said. "I should've listened to you. I should've gone sooner to the hospital and-"

"And if we hadn't, you wouldn't have saved Ghost, Hangman, and Maverick. I'm not sure they would've made it had we not shown up. So, yes, it was terrifying and painful to watch you die, but you're still here, Jules. I got you back, our kids got you back, our dogs got you back, and our friends and family are alive because of you."

Juliette sniffled, wiping her nose. "I died, Bradley. I- I can't-"

"I know." I kissed her forehead, understanding that she was still trying to comprehend everything she'd been through. It would be a long while before Juliette was okay again, but I would be here for her no matter what, as would our friends and family. We would help her get through this.

Juliette pulled her head back just far enough to look me in the eyes. I braced my forehead against hers and lightly began pecking her on the lips, whispering a word between each: India. Lima. Yankee. ***

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everlastingdreams · 2 months ago

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The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire : Chapter 1

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

Chapter Title: The Group

Notes: Finally it's here! Tumblr is messing up the way the text is posted so yeah… sorry about that. I write on Reedsy but copying it here always makes it look a little wonky. There will be some tags added on later chapters, this to avoid big spoilers.

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

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter: 1/47

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

The sun had only just risen in the sky when your half-brother, Cassian, slammed his fist against your bedchamber’s door.

His voice thundered through the wood, “Get up! Father wants to see us!”

You had jerked awake violently, hating that tone that he used far too often.

He hammered on your door again. “Did you hear me?! Get up!”

“Yes-,” You swallowed down your awakened fear to say it louder, “Yes! Coming!”

He walked away from your door, leaving you to get dressed in a haste. As always. Rest was not something that was really granted to you and Cassian enjoyed to take away what little joy’s you had in life. Needless to say, there weren’t any actually left. Your father had been married twice, his first marriage ended when Cassian’s mother died young. His second ended when your mother died after childbirth. Cassian was just two years old when you were born. Your father, Lord Aldith of Ravenwick, blamed you for the death of your mother ever since, so much so that he had refused to even tell you her name no matter how many times you had asked. And had he known that you were born with the same Feyblood as your mother after all, instead of Manblood like him, you doubted he would have bothered to keep you alive for as long as you had. He detested the Fey and you had no doubt that he made your mother hide what she was once he had her fully in his control. You had never told a soul of what you were, the only luck you had was that your markings were not visible to the eye. For a while you had believed to be normal, until you were five, then your whole world changed. It also took some time to fully understand what you were, had you not seen a description that matched you perfectly in a book once you would have never known. Secrets and lies, all of it needed to keep yourself alive, to keep yourself safe from your own family… And even then they still treated you ill.

You pulled your shirt on, wincing at the dull pain from the bruise on your arm. Closing up your bodice hurt your still healing wrist. It were common discomforts you had learned to live with. Once you had tried to run away, just once, and Aldith had send his mercenaries to find you. They had dragged you back to the village, into your home, and tossed you at your father’s feet. He didn’t need them to enact the punishment for your actions, he did that all by himself. The bruises had taken weeks to heal, and ever since that day loud noises and shouts tended to make you flinch.

You rushed to the great chamber of the large manor, the place where the Lord of the village always expected to see you when called upon. After taking a deep breath, you entered the room. Cassian was already waiting impatiently for your attendance, as was Aldith.

“What took you so long to arrive here?” Aldith asked annoyed.

Your head tilted down, eyes fixed on the floor, “I was getting dressed, father.”

There was a scoff, but thankfully he seemed to accept the excuse this time. He pointed to a place on the map that was splayed out on the table. “I am sending the both of you on another errand. The paladins have set up camp not far from here and if the rumors I’ve heard are true then there will be gold present in those tents. Go there, take what you can without being noticed. Ava and Bertram will join you on this task.”

It was true, your father had never earned his wealth in an honest way and expected his children to do as he did. No matter the risk.

“We are stealing from the Church?” It slipped from your thoughts.

Aldith glared your way. “Would you rather starve than earn your keep?”

It was a blatant threat, he was wealthy enough to feed the whole village if he wanted to. But this was your life with them, obey or suffer the consequences. Cassian grinned, clearly enjoying how you were being put in place.

“No, father.” you quietly said.

“No more questions from you then. You do what Cassian tells you to do, understood?”

“Yes, father.”

You knew better than to ask for a weapon to aid in this errand, they would never trust you with one. And you knew not to tell them how stupid you thought it was that they would risk the anger of the paladins, they didn’t care for your opinion. At least Bertram would come along, he was perhaps the closest thing to a friend you had, even if he was just being polite it was more than you were used to.

“Any questions, Cassian?” Aldith asked.

If no one had been present to see it, you would have rolled your eyes at the blatant favoritism. Of course your brother had questions about this task, and your father saw no problem in answering them.

After midday, you sat on the wagon next to Ava. Bertram was steering the wagon, following the directions Cassian was feeding him. The plan was to hide the wagon at quite a distance from the paladin camp, then continue the rest on foot and gather at the wagon again later. In case things went wrong, you were to scatter and meet at the wagon when it was safe again.

You were chewing the small piece of bread Bertram had given you before the group had left the village, was it so obvious to others that your body was growing weaker? Meals were something you had to earn according to Aldith, and it was far harder for you to earn them than it was for Cassian. You said not a word during the entire ride. Ava, a Sky Folk woman and Bertram’s sister, tried to flirt with Cassian quite often. But Cassian looked down on the Fey even if he never spoke it out loud outside the walls of your shared home. To him, Ava and Bertram were just pawns to use.

The wagon came to a halt in the forest on the spot that Cassian had chosen. The four of you got off the wagon and gathered together to walk the remaining distance. It wouldn’t take much longer than an hour and the paladin camp should be reached by the time it got dark. During the walk it became painfully obvious again how little Cassian cared to talk to you, but you didn’t mind, talking to him always ended in being affronted or threatened.

Just before the sun went down, the group reached the paladin camp. The four of you were hiding in the bushes, trying to detect weaknesses in their camp to use to your advantage. Cassian was quick to figure out which tent belonged to Father Carden. And of course, considering the risk of getting caught was the highest, he ordered you to go and steal what was there for the taking. The others picked tents that were closer to the edge of the camp. It always went like this, you were always the one having to take the most risks, because you were expendable. Often it had crossed your mind to just walk up to a paladin and tell them of what you were, to let them end your life and suffering. The only thing offering some consolation were the faint whispers in your ears whenever you thought of it, if you could even call it consolation. It was something you had never spoken a word about, these barely decipherable voices talking to you… people would learn that there was something wrong with you and treat you even worse than they already did.

“Did you hear me?” Cassian’s irritated tone pulled you from your darkening thoughts.

The flash of panic in your eyes betrayed you.

He gave your arm a rough pull. “Get over there and earn your keep!”

With a slight shove, he pushed you towards the camp. You hurried away from him, keeping yourself low and hidden behind the bushes whilst moving towards your target. You had enough experience to stay undetected on your way towards Father Carden’s tent. After waiting for a moment to see if there was anyone inside, you hurriedly made an opening in one of the tent’s walls to crawl under. Crawling over the ground wasn’t your favorite past time, it ruined your already worn down clothing further.

Father Carden’s tent wasn’t as modest as you had believed it to be, there was a large carpet inside that looked like it must have been worth quite some coin. But a carpet was too large to sneak out of the paladin camp undetected. What you were looking for was found inside a large wooden trunk. Hidden between a lot of red robes, you found a heavy ring made of gold and encrusted with red gemstones that you believed to be rubies, this would sure earn you your keep for a while. Just when you wanted to slip the ring into your pocket, the owner of it walked into the tent. Father Carden looked absolutely shocked to see you there and you used that moment to bolt out of the tent. The priest was shouting something that were undoubtedly commands to his paladins. You even ran into one of them and the paladin ended up falling as a result of the collision. It didn’t make you slow down at all, you needed to get out of there. You reached the trees by the time the whole camp seemed aware of intruders. From the corner of your eyes you saw Ava dart into the woods as well. It wasn’t the first time you were caught on one of these errands, but Father Carden and the paladins were not afraid to enact severe punishments. Fey or not, death was an acceptable measure for them. You kept running as the darkness fell over the lands, the advantage of working in a group was that it was far harder for them to catch you if there was more than one target to capture.

The noise from the shouting paladins did not reach your ears anymore after running for quite some time. You began to walk to let your legs rest but still in a fast pace, and not much later Ava found you. Together you walked in the direction of the wagon, whilst she asked you if you were able to find anything worth the trouble, you had shown her the ring in response. The wagon couldn’t be far off anymore, running would have brought you closer to it quicker than walking.

“Stop!” Ava suddenly grabbed your arm, she hushed you when you tried to ask why. She gestured to let you know she had heard something.

You held your breath. She drew her sword. You envied that she had a weapon to defend herself. Another sound came and she spun around, it had come out of the other direction.

“It’s an animal?” She whispered doubtful.

A branch snapped and made you turn to the sound. The voices in your head were growing louder the more you panicked, something in you told you to run but what direction was safe?

It was Ava who made the decision. “We need to run. NOW!”

She followed her own advice right away and you followed her without questioning it. You could tell that she was running in the direction where the wagon was waiting, was she hoping to find the others there to help? That hope was cut short when the sound of a galloping horse gave chase not far behind you. Like a shadow chasing the two of you, the horse closed in, it was terrifying.

“Ava! Look out!” you tried to warn her.

She barely had enough time to throw herself out of the way of the horse’s path. Both of you hit the ground hard. The horse’s rider swiftly dismounted, the sound of steel being drawn made Ava get to her feet immediately. She barely had enough time to ward off the sword lashing out at her. Fear engulfed you both when you realized who the enemy was that you were facing. Father Carden’s most loyal soldier, the Weeping Monk.

Ava did her best to stand her ground but she ended up falling. You prevented him from being able to deliver the killing blow to her by running up to him and grabbing his arm, halting his movements.

“Leave her alone!” It was a rare thing to hear your voice be so loud.

He had thrown you on the ground so fast you didn’t even understand how he’d done it. And still it didn’t stop you from trying to stop him long enough for Ava to get on her feet again. You grabbed hold on his leg, he pulled free just as Ava attacked him. And then she was bleeding, his sword had cut through her sleeve and wounded her. The voice of Bertram rang from close-by, he ran to come to his sister’s aid.

You crawled backwards, away from the fight that ensued. In the darkness it was hard to focus your eyes on the Monk, his dark attire worked to his advantage. It all happened so ridiculously fast. The Monk fought brutally elegant, as if he was the personification of death itself. Bertram hit the ground after being struck by the Monk’s elbow. Ava barely kept her footing against him. You tried to help Bertram back to his feet. And then from the corner of your eyes you saw Cassian, with a rock in his hand.

Cassian struck the Monk just once against the back of the head and neutralized the threat you had been fighting. The Monk was unconscious by the time he hit the ground hard. Everyone was shaking at the sight of him, even then they still feared him as if he was a vengeful spirit that would come to haunt them for this. Cassian cursed and dropped the rock. Bertram was still holding your shoulder for support. Ava held her wounded arm.

“How the hell did he find us?!” Ava questioned out loud, voice shaking.

“The bastard is know for tracking down Fey.” Cassian said irritated, glancing at both of the Sky Folks.

Questions were fired back and forward between them, but their voices faded out in your ears. You were transfixed on the Monk’s face, on the marks he bore beneath his eyes, and understood why they called him the ‘Weeping’ Monk. You couldn’t believe the terrible truth it revealed to you. He was Fey. Cassian was saying something about tying the Monk up, it brought your attention back to the group.

“He’s too dangerous.” Bertram protested.

Cassian would not hear any reasoning. “He’s worth a lot of coin to the many he has crossed. This is the chance of a lifetime, we are doing this. Ava, fetch the wagon. My father will reward us all royally for this.”

Ava was angry with the decision but did as he asked, she was far too eager to win his affection, it would be a while before she would reach the wagon and return with it.

“Get that rope from his horse’s saddle!” Cassian barked the command to you.

This plan was insane. The Monk was far too dangerous to be kept as a captive, but Cassian saw no risks, he only saw the mountain of coins he’d get for the Monk. You approached the horse and the stallion turned his head to you right away, you patted the beautiful creature’s neck and took the rope from the saddle. Bertram met you halfway, so you wouldn’t have to get too close to Cassian, and took the rope. He used it to help Cassian tie the Monk up and to a tree. Your hands were sweating from anxiousness. This was perhaps the worst idea Cassian had ever had and you could only pray that it wouldn’t backfire on everyone involved.

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story. Using this old list from the previous fic.

#weeping monk x reader #weeping monk #cursed netflix #the weeping monk #weeping monk x you #cursed lancelot #the weeping monk x reader #cursed weeping monk #weepingmonk #lancelot/reader #lancelot x reader #lancelot x you #lancelot

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