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steddieasitgoes · 2 years ago

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written for @eddiemonth Day 6 Prompt: Crush cw: period typical homophobia read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

The Hawkins High Library is somehow both quiet and bustling. There’s not a free table in sight; students hunched together in groups of twos and threes. Loners are forced to share with others. All of them with their noses deep into study guides, highlighters perched between tense lips. Some flip through flashcards, mumbling answers as the librarian watches over with a stern look, ready to shush anyone who dares make a sound.

The sun beats down on the small room, rays of warmth promising free days to come. Summer break is on the horizon. All that stands between them and three months of endless freedom is finals.

Finals, which, in Eddie’s case, don’t just promise a summer of freedom. But a life free from high school altogether. Assuming he manages to finally pass Mrs. O’Donnell’s chemistry final.

The odds of this happening, though, are not very great. Especially since he’s already failed her chemistry class once before. (Honestly, Hawkins High should just hire a new chemistry teacher and stop putting everyone through her miserable class.)

But it’s okay because Eddie’s actually been trying this semester.

As in, he finally suffered through the mortifying ordeal of asking for help and landed himself the best tutor that Hawkins High has to offer: Nancy Wheeler.

With her help, he’s managed to bring his F up to a low D- which isn’t great, but it's the closest he’s ever been to passing. Now, all he has to do is get a C on the final and submit some lame extra credit essay, and he should be able to turn that D- into a D+ and pass the class.

At least, that’s the plan.

Which is why he’s currently tucked away at a library table opposite Nancy and the King of Hawkins high himself, Steve Harrington, instead of bumming around in Jeff’s garage planning their summer Hellfire campaign.

“Okay,” Nancy says, pulling his attention away from the giant library window. She’s holding an index card in her hands. Her usual pristine manicure chipped. Nails bit as short as possible. Eddie supposes the stress of finals even gets to the nerds. “A proton has what kind of charge?”

“Positive.”

She nods, not one for verbal praise, and flips to the next card. “What happens in an endergonic reaction?”

Shit.

He should know this one.

Eddie taps his pencil against the table. Tilts his head back until his eyes are focused on the ugly popcorn ceiling of the library as if it holds the answers. It doesn’t, unfortunately. Frustrated, he buries his head in his hands for a moment before peering up at Nancy with his big brown eyes and a solemn look on his face.

Steve scoffs beside Nancy, looking up from his own study guide to throw an arm possessively around her.

Eddie’s about to call him out on his weird macho man behavior when his stomach starts to growl. Jesus H. Christ. He knew he shouldn’t have skipped lunch today.

Nancy sighs, shaking Steve’s arm off of her as she stands. “I’m going to go grab us some snacks from the vending machine.”

“You’re the best, Wheeler!” Eddie smiles, watching as Nancy walks away.

When he turns back to the table, ready to flip the flashcard over to learn what an endergonic reaction is, Steve is glaring at him. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest as he leans back in the chair. Eddie can tell he’s trying to look casual and unbothered, but the tension in his jaw and the rage in his eyes say otherwise.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, my liege?”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Do you think I’m stupid, Munson? I can see you flirting with my girlfriend right in front of me.”

Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded, wide eyes blinking as Steve continues to glare. There’s a rumble in the pit of his stomach, one that stems from laughter instead of hunger, but Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep it at bay. Something tells him laughing at Steve isn’t going to end well for him. He might have a bad track record when it comes to fights, but the only punch Eddie has ever thrown was accidental at a haunted house. And he ended up bruising his own hand instead of the clown’s nose.

“I don’t have a crush on Nancy.”

“Sure you don’t,” Steve hums sarcastically, crossing his arms even tighter.

The stupid sleeves of his striped polo strain against the bulge of his biceps, and Eddie tries his best not to stare. Oh, if only you knew the truth, Harrington.

“Every guy here has a crush on Nancy. Especially since they know they can’t have her.”

This time, it’s Eddie who scoffs. Objectively, sure, Nancy’s cute and all. But, the audacity of Harrington to think every guy wants her just because he has her is more irritating than comical. He doesn’t think Nancy would be too thrilled about it either.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Harrington, but I don’t think about Nancy like that.”

“So, what are you a queer then?” Steve snaps.

Eddie feels his skin heat up like the blood is rushing to his cheeks and his ears, and then, as quickly as the temperature rises, it sinks, sending him into a numbing cold. Judging by Harrington’s wide eye gaze, Eddie assumes he looks like a guy who’s two seconds away from hurling or passing out on the floor. Both of which he’d welcome. Anything is better than having this conversation with Harrington.

“Wait,” Steve says as if Eddie has the strength to get up from his seat. “Shit, I’m sorry. I— I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry, man. I’m trying not to be this asshole, and then I go and say asshole shit like that. I just—“ Steve drags both hands down his face as he groans.

“You’re in love with her and don’t want another freak stealing her from you?” Eddie supplies, totally caught off guard by the sound of his own voice. Honestly, he’s kinda proud of himself for stringing together a coherent sentence, let alone a dig like that, after Steve’s insult-turned-apology.

Steve doesn’t say anything, just stares at Eddie with those stupid wide eyes, and his even stupider lips barely parted.

“What? It was kind of hard to ignore the little lover's quarrel you and Byers got into last winter. But trust me, Harrington. You have nothing to worry about. All I want from Wheeler is her help passing chem. As soon as I get that, I’ll be out of both of your hair.”

Eddie can tell Steve’s thinking of a way to respond to that, but he never gets the chance because Nancy reappears just then. She dumps a handful of “brain food” on the table — mostly trail mix concoctions and a lone Snickers bar — and passes each of the boys a bottle of water. It’s not exactly what Eddie was hoping for when she left for snacks, but he’s not about to complain.

“Okay, so, endergonic reactions.”

+ + +

Truthfully, Eddie should stop making plans since they never seem to go his way. What was supposed to be a chill, music-filled spring break has turned into quite the opposite.

Instead, he’s spent the last two days in hiding, with only a handful of people keeping him safe, including Harrington and Wheeler, of all people.

So much for staying out of their hair, he thinks manically, as he walks in tandem beside Steve in the actual hell-like version of Hawkins. They trail behind Robin and Nancy, Eddie rambling on and on about Steve, but he just can’t shut up. Maybe it’s the nerves, maybe it’s the memory of the three of them back in that library, maybe it’s just Eddie self-sabotaging because seeing Steve in his vest is doing things to him. Things he doesn't have time to deal with, especially not when Wheeler is right there.

Whatever it is, Eddie’s about to do the stupidest thing he’s ever done, aside from jumping into Lover's Lake in the first place.

Steve stops walking the minute Eddie starts talking about why he followed them here. They stop beside a tree, and Eddie angles his body so he’s in front of Steve. Probably closer than he should be, but Eddie’s not about to step backward. Not when there could be a creepy vine ready to trip him and give their positions away to the hoard of bats in the sky. No, thank you.

He presses on instead, talking about Nancy and her incredible reaction time to Steve being dragged deeper and deeper into the murky waters.

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if I were you, I would get her back,” Eddie says, eyes locked with Steve’s. “Because that was an unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

With a hand clasped over his heart, Eddie watches as Steve glances towards Nancy’s direction. There’s a moment where Eddie thinks Steve’s actually going to listen to him. Run after the girl of his dreams and professes his undying love to her in the middle of the hell dimension version of Hawkins. But then, he slowly turns his head back toward Eddie and shakes his head.

“I don’t...” Steve hesitates, eyes flickering to Eddie’s lips for the briefest of seconds before settling back on his eyes. He shakes his head. “I don’t have a crush on Nancy, man.”

Eddie cocks his head in surprise. Lets a cackle of a laugh escape his lips as he stares back at Steve in disbelief. “You don’t have to bullshit me, man. It’s pretty clear you still have a thing for her. I mean, every guy in Hawkins has a crush on Nancy, remember.”

Steve’s brows knit together, lips agape in that same stupid thinking face he gave Eddie all those years ago in the Hawkins High library. It’s aggravating how cute it is, even now when Steve’s covered in blood and grime and God knows what else.

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, eyes slowly tracking Eddie from head to toe and back up again. “Turns out you were right. Not every guy has a crush on her. Some of us have eyes for someone else.”

Just as Steve starts to lean in, the ground beneath them starts to rumble and shake, sending them both toppling to the floor. Whatever moment just happened between them disappears as the reality of their situation hits them again.

There’s no time for crushes when their lives are at stake.

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fic #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stancy #stancy fic #stancy ficlet #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler fic #nancy wheeler ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson & nancy wheeler #dani writes

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catholicpriestmedia · 5 months ago

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"The Solemnity of Jesus Christ, King of Universe." #FeastofChristtheKing

📷 Statue of Christ the King in Döbling Carmelite Monastery, Austria / © sedmak / #GettyImages. #Catholic_Priest #CatholicPriestMedia

#feastofchristtheking #gettyimages #catholic_priest #catholicpriestmedia

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kaynk8 · 2 months ago

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The eighth sin

When a part of the land on the territory of an Irish women's convent was given to the Vikings' settlement, the nuns had to learn how to coexist with people who stroke deadly fear into them.

A young nun Erin catches Ivar's eye and now her faith undergoes severe questioning

🔴Warnings: religion, slight dubious consent, first kiss, mentioning of alcohol, smut, slow burn

Chapter masterlist

Chapter II, Gula (Gluttony)

Prime, that is the first service of the day, was not bad. Singing has always been Erin's favorite activity which lifted her up closer to God and inspired hope for soon-to-be marriage to her Beloved. She was coming to the age of nineteen or so and, in fact, could have taken the solemn vow two, almost three years ago. But on the first possible occasion she suddenly got her first bleeding which was a little bit late, and yet, considered to be unclean, she couldn’t desecrate the name of Christ.

And then the raids broke out.

The pagans pillaged and burned the towns and churches. Erin still remembered that dreadful summer when thick smog and flakes of ashes blown with southern winds poisoned the air, and with tears in their eyes they were praying endlessly for their village and convent wouldn't turn into the dust.

The St Patrick's Cathedral where ceremonies took place didn't survive the invasion. Erin saw it once when they were summoned to assist the doctors because the damage done was incomparable to any their country had ever seen before.

Her heart ached at the sight at the ruins the barbarians turned the place into. And even worse was the fate of a women's convent.

If St Patrick's was ruined but still stood and there was a chance for rebuilding, St Vincent's convent went on living in their prayers only. What was left of it was a black hole and burned stones. The nuns were raped and killed, many killed themselves, some of them, Erin heard, damaged their faces, cut their cheeks, lips or noses to disgust the pagans. Almost all of them were eventually murdered. The ones who were not as lucky - because that was the only suitable word for sisters who were granted with the bliss of oblivion – were taken by Norsemen. Sister Anne, who Erin used to be friends with, as they both assisted to midwives in the village, couldn't avoid the terrifying fate that was waiting for her. A pagan from the band who raided their convent made her his wife. That's what Erin heard about her and wasn't even sure she was alive. She used to pray for her not to be, for what could be worse than having survived what she had.

That's why everyone was overwhelmed with terror because the Norsemen living close to them also put their hands to destructions at first but didn’t have especially much time as making a pact with the king prevented this plague which was brought upon their lands from spreading further.

And more to that many of the nuns had already taken the vow and, supposed to be living in enclosure, did not expect to find themselves among the pagans.

The settlement the Norsemen established near the convent was not the only one, there were several spread across their province. Some who came there solely on the purpose of raiding and killing even lived among the villagers. They all kept their province safe but nobody could stop them from plundering the neighboring, especially with the king's support whose aim was expansion of the lands.

So, if Prime was quite bearable, the Bible listening was a torture. The morning coldness, silent rustle of pages, and Abbess's creaky monotonous voice were all like a lullaby for Erin who barely slept that night. From time to time her eyelids closed and she dozed off but came round scolding herself for this weakness.

***

It was Maeve and her turn to weed. She hurried to the garden until the sun started to heat with all its might. Maeve said she had something to do and would join her very soon.

The work was pretty monotonous but had her focused on the small wild bristles among parsley stems and so kept her from falling asleep on the garden bed. She was enjoying the warm wind and the singing of birds and was all deep in her thoughts when a sudden crunch of a branch made her almost jump to her feet. She was ready to see Maeve and already had a couple of words to say to her for being so slow, but it was not her.

'Hey, animal lover,' he was standing on the path, looking down at her. 'How’s the work going?'

'If you think it's funny, it is not,' she said with restraint.

He smiled, biting at a straw hanging from the corner of his mouth. He was swinging two empty buckets in his hand, thus, heading to the well, and she hoped he'd be gone soon.

They used their well to take water from. One should pay them the tribute in fact. The Norsemen weren't living there as freeloaders. They did a great amount of work both for their settlement and to help the convent whenever they could. So it was fair for them to ask to use the convent's resources from time to time.

'Your friend was delicious...there's still left some, just in case you want to say goodbye or something.'

'Have you walked all the way here to mock me or got things to do?' she nodded at the buckets. She got up to her feet and moved to another bed farther from him. But it didn’t help because the Norseman stepped over the garden bed and she found him even closer.

He looked right into her eyes so confidently that she had to avert hers from his face.

'Alright, sorry,' he gave a bit of laughter. 'I'm really glad I found you here. Yesterday I thought we scared you and that little girl. Believe me we didn't mean to. You fled too fast, we didn't even have a chance to know each other. So I just thought that maybe I could ask for your name, at least?'

'What for?' She stiffened and looked around. They were alone here. Where on earth is Maeve at?

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Just hoped to become friends one day since we're neighbors'

'Friends?' she scoffed because it was just too ridiculous to hear. 'I’m not even allowed to talk to you.'

He raised one brow leniently, looking at the girl.

'Who forbade you?'

'The god.' She picked up her tools from the ground and headed away from him.

'So you won't tell me your name?'

'No.'

She heard him sneer loudly and she felt even more irritated.

'I’m Ivar, by the way.' Erin heard behind her. She ignored it and started walking so fast in attempt to get away that nearly ran into Maeve.

‘Have you already done all the work, sister Erin?’ Maeve was surprised indeed because Erin hasn’t been in the garden even for a full hour.

‘What took you so long?’ she asked scornfully but by the look on Maeve's face she understood that she probably crossed the line.

‘Abbess sent for me, I had to… sorry, I could go there alone, and you can have some rest! I'm really sorry sister Erin!’ she mumbled guiltily.

‘No-no, it’s not your fault, Maeve!’ Erin pulled herself together. 'I think we could finish it in the evening, it's getting too hot.'

‘But it is yet a pretty suitable weather for gardening.’ Maeve still looked kind of frustrated.

‘Just don’t go there. You could go and ask if some help in the kitchen is needed, since Sister Sybil has fallen ill.’ Erin said. Maeve was old enough to do things herself but always was so shy that needed someone to direct her all the time.

When new girls joined the sisterhood, each of them had an older nun to help them to adapt. But Maeve seemed to have only partially adjusted to her new home even for four years. She still felt and was considered to be a newbie because since the days when raids started, more families preferred to keep their daughters with them. And since now there certainly won’t be any newcomers with all the pagans around.

When Maeve ran to the kitchen, Erin put the tools back to the barn, slightly annoyed at having to get back to it again because of her cowardice. Even though she told Maeve they’re not dangerous, she didn’t seem to believe her words herself. At least, now she could go with other sisters to pick berries in the nearest woods, which she preferred more to weeding.

***

The woods started right behind their chapel over the hill. And its closeness terrified the nuns as forests and woods were places pagans used for hiding and attacking people. And it is only this summer after two years that they finally were not afraid to go there.

They chatted merrily while filing their baskets with juicy berries of cranberries and red and black current. And they would continue if not for the Norsemen.

‘Is there anyone in charge for you?’ A tall bearded man came to the girls who were picking the strawberries. They looked at him in frustration wondering what he wanted. ‘Call it a day, ladies. Time for hunting.’

All the men were carrying bows and spears. Some were topless and the nuns had to shamefully avert their eyes in other directions.

‘Hello, Erin.’ The girl shrugged from the sound of a male voice calling her by her name. She looked back at Ivar who passed her by with a sly smile on his face. He was carrying a bow and a quiver filled with arrows.

Her insides clench. The fear of shame overwhelmed her. It means he must have asked someone. About her. She never told him her name and sure as the day nor to any other pagan.

What might it look like? Do you happen to know that nun’s name? To become friends, that’s how he puts it? Oh, gracious God, when has she sinned that much to catch attention of a pagan? She looked around. Sisters just talked to her the whole day as if nothing happened. They would make it clear if they knew somebody was interested in one of them. But Neither of the sisters came to talk to her, neither cast a disapproving glance.

‘I was just wondering,’ Sister Karen and Sister Nora caught up with her as they were going back to the convent. Nora was a cloistered nun* over thirty and used to be Erin’s mentor, but mostly a nanny, when she arrived at the convent. Karen was Erin’s age but she has already taken her vow during that ceremony Erin couldn’t attend. ‘How are we going to live in enclosure with these pagans around us?’

‘It’s a rough time, Sister Karen, we shall bear it with dignity.’ Just as Abbess, Nora wore exclusively back dress and veil and despite of quite hot weather didn’t seem to be suffering from heat. ‘Our faith and love to Almighty is being tested.’

‘I think we should stop helping them and accepting their help. They cross the line sometimes. Have you seen what they were doing yesterday? Unspeakable! I’m sure the devil sent them to pervert and corrupt us.’

Since the day the Norsemen came they started building a weird place, resembling a house but definitely it was not a house because it was too small. It looked like a hut and the convent inhabitants were wondering what it might be.

And yesterday after everybody went to sleep some nuns noticed the smoke coming from the opposite side of the bonfire the pagans made.

The Abbess rang the bell raising the alarm and they all hurried to leave the building thinking the drunk pagans had started a fire. But once they were outside, a loud “oh” rattled among them and they, like one, covered their eyes and their faces, rushing back nearly knocking Abbess off her feet.

No, it was not a fire. It turned out to be a bath house and the Norsemen were walking out there absolutely naked. Men and women together, like they had no shame at all.

‘And it disturbs me even more, sister Nora,’ Karen went on, ‘that some girls seem to have established a scandalous friendship with those pagans. I hope God will punish them for their infidelity.’

Sister Nora frowned. ‘I think you shouldn’t be so headfirst, Karen. Can you tell the names of our sisters who you think were involved with such kind of a friendship?’

‘No, I can’t tell names, unfortunately, but I saw them with my own eyes.’

‘Then I think you should be more occupied with your labor, Karen dear, don’t upset yourself over the others. If what you say is true and if you happen to know who it is, then we’ll try to talk sense into them, I’m sure it’s a momentary weakness and God will be forgiving if they repent.’

Erin was all a swirl of nerves and emotions. Karen knows. She knows about her.

‘What’s on your mind, Sister Erin?’ Nora turned to the girl.

‘Huh?’ She raised her eyes at them.

‘You look preoccupied the whole day, is there something troubling you?’

‘Ah, no, not at all. Slept unwell’s all.’ Erin mumbled shaking her head.

Karen scoffed. ‘Who wouldn’t? After such wickedness we all witnessed yesterday!’

***

It was an hour for the Bible reading before the evening service and Erin settled on the bench in the garden. She would always come here if the weather allowed. It was her favorite place, calm and solitary. It was believe to attract snakes from the woods and so was avoided by most nuns. Erin wasn’t especially scared of snakes and that’s why she chose this place, knowing that nobody would disturb her here.

But today she was wrong.

Just as she opened the book a slight movement behind the barn caught her eye. She got up just a little and to see what it was and her mouth gaped at what she saw.

Sister Aislin and a tall fair-haired Norseman stood there half hidden in the green branches of an apple tree. Erin saw her smiling at him and when he gave her a kiss on her cheek, almost reaching her lips, she didn’t flinch or protest. She then pressed her finger to his mouth in a teasing manner and when she turned to walk away he caught her hand again and pressed it to his lips.

Erin was shocked and horrified that she froze where she sat, watching Aislin, radiating from her sinful happiness, heading towards her.

She probably had no clue Erin was there because her eyes widened with horror when she saw the girl. And by the look at Erin’s face she understood that she’d seen everything. Her steps hurried and soon she was standing in front of Erin, all pale, even her lips, as if all the blood evaporated from her face.

She opened her mouth as if about to say something but seemed to be at a loss. They were looking at each other speechless.

‘Please, Erin.’ Aislin finally managed. She has always had a way with words and Erin felt a pang of compassion seeing her like that. ‘Don’t tell anyone, please.’ she pressed her hand to her chest as if holding her heart from jumping out.

‘I… I won’t.’ Erin knew what it would lead to if Abbess knows. ‘But…Aislin, are you absolutely sure about what you are doing?’ Erin whispered.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I know what it looks like but…’ she shook her head. ‘Please, Erin, promise me. Swear that, in the name of God, you won’t say anything!’ she clenched at her hands, almost kneeling in front of her.

‘I can’t swear on God, Aislin, you know that. I promise I won’t tell. But you should stop it. Erin looked around to check if nobody’s observing the scene.

‘Thank you...’ She nodded meekly and finally retreated lowering her head as if it could help not to see all the shame she’s brought upon herself.

Still preoccupied with the sinful scene her Holy Sister took part in, she could barely concentrate on reading. She just managed to finish a couple of pages when she saw Ivar coming up to her.

‘Are you following me?’ she sighed.

‘It wouldn’t seem like that if you stopped running away, Erin.’ He shrugged his shoulders, settling on the bench next to her.

‘How do you know my name? I never told you.’ She turned another page pretending to be occupied with the book, but in fact she was not, it even rushed out of her mind whose revelation she was reading.

‘You know how we learn things… from here and there…’ he dodged. ‘It is very beautiful, by the way. And suits you well.

‘What do you need from me? Ivar.’ She looked him in the eyes. A white rose sticking out of his pocket caught her eye. It seemed so pure and strangely inappropriate in the contrast with his dusty worn out clothes.

‘Oh, you remember my name. It’s a good sign. Means that there’s still hope for me.’ He gave her a lip smile.

‘Hope for what?’

‘For becoming friends.’

But Erin wasn’t living in complete ignorance even though she was taught and prepared to take a holy vow. She knew exactly why he keeps coming, and friendship had little to do with it. And more to that, she has just witnessed what this ‘friendship’ can lead to. Or is it just because she wanted to see it like this? She shrugged at the thought. It’s the devil who’s testing her, no doubts.

‘I’m not stupid, Ivar! I know what you’re trying to initiate.’ She decided to be straightforward with him. ‘You just don’t get it! I’m going to be married soon.’

‘Married? To whom?’ he was slightly confused.

‘To Jesus Christ. And I can’t talk to you because you’re a pagan. Your ways are sick.’ She looked at him with pure disgust at her face. She couldn’t believe how Aislin could ever fall for one of them.

‘To Jesus Christ? That dead guy hanging on the cross?’ he looked at the girl sarcastically, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. ‘And you say our ways are sick?’

She got up, absolutely irritated. Why try to talk sense into this ignorant person? But he jumped to his feet at the same time with her and nimbly caught her by the hand. He let go of it but slightly held on to her fingers. She moved her hand to release it.

‘There, you’re running away again. Look, Erin, I don’t mean to offend you. I’m not your enemy. But you can’t truly be married to somebody who’s not even alive.’

She saw him smirking but also it seemed to her that she caught a glimpse of doubt in his eyes.

‘We were promised that we’ll reunite with him after death which would be eternal bliss, and so we have to be faithful and loyal to him.’

‘And you avoid men so that you don’t accidentally get seduced?’

‘What? No… it’s not that. I don’t avoid men! Only those whose belief allows committing ghastly things.’ She gasped from such an audacity.

He sneered, but she wanted to believe that she hit target revealing who he really is.

‘Yes-yes, I believe you. I’m just joking, don’t listen to me.’ He laughed cutting her off before she could say anything else. ‘I now see that you’re righteous about your beliefs.’ she raised her eyes at him trying to figure out if he was being serious or sarcastic again.

‘In fact, I’ve got something for you’. He took out the flower from his pocket and handed it to her. She wasn’t thinking why she did it. But she took it from his hands. ‘I thought about you when I saw it… and it reminded of you even more when I tried to pick it up, but it scratched all my fingers first.’ He smiled light-heartedly. And Erin couldn’t resist but scoffing too.

‘I can’t accept it from you, I just told you why.’ She handed it back to him but he didn’t take it.

‘Well, just have it, let’s pretend you’re not accepting it, but… it’s just a flower. You’ve got lots of these,’ he gestured at the garden, colorful from all kinds of plants. ‘I take your God’s not against flowers, right?’ He looked at the girl.

‘No, he is not…’ she said, twisting the flower in her fingers. It was beautiful. Its petals started to get blackened at the edges because it was ripped out of its roots probably more than a couple of hours ago, but it was still lovely and gentle.

‘Well, I’ve got to go… was nice to see you, Erin.’

She watched him go and looked up in the sky. It was impeccably blue, not a single cloud to cover her wickedness from God. But He has eyes everywhere, as Abbess always told them. He is in everything. Erin just silently hoped he might forgive her for the thoughts she allowed herself to think. Because it was not irritation only she started feeling towards this arrogant Norseman. But also different ones which made her heart pound whenever he came near.

‘Sister Erin!’ She didn’t think of anything good but to throw the flower inside the book.

‘I knew I’d find you here. You’re running late to the confession.’ Maeve was breathing heavily from running and started coughing. She was in fact coughing the whole morning and Erin was concerned about it but Maeve said she was fine.

Erin’s eyes grew wide ‘What? Oh, God!’ she rushed to the chapel with Maeve alongside, burning with shame for losing a track of time while talking to Ivar. That’s how easy she chose a company of a pagan over God’s.

***

‘Why are you late?’ Abbess’s lips were tight and her eyes were so piercing they might cut you if they could.

‘I…’ she suddenly lacked all the words under her gaze. ‘I was too preoccupied with my Bible and lost the track of time.’

She didn’t hit her, nor made a single move. But the flashbacks of the stick on her back hit Erin even with a stronger force. Abbess didn’t beat the grown-up nuns anymore but when they were smaller, she was never greedy for whipping. Sometimes Erin and the nuns seemed to be afraid of her more than of God’s wrath. And sometimes they even questioned themselves if, with His son preaching love and forgiveness, God really was as wrathful as Abbess pictured Him.

The chapel was silent. Scared to breathe, the nuns were watching Erin walking to her seat.

‘We could start.’ Everybody meekly lowered their heads. Erin turned her head and her eyes met Sister Aislin’s. She looked so pale she was almost the same color as the walls of the chapel. Always so cheerful and talkative, Erin has never seen her this faded.

‘So, anybody?’ She asked almost every girl to stand up because everyone was the witness to what was happening.

‘Yes, Abbess! Maeve jumped from her seat. ‘I want to confess about what my eyes saw yesterday! I was in front when we went outside and I saw everything! I wished I could wash my eyes with soap. I prayed half of the night and even today, even in my thoughts!’ she looked so disturbed that some nuns couldn’t help but smiling secretly.

‘Good, Maeve! You can take your seat.’ Abbess nodded, satisfied, ‘Anyone else?’ Sister Aislin?’

She got up. ‘No abbess. Only for yesterday.’

‘Sister Erin? You’ve been with Maeve.’

Erin got up ‘No, Abbess.’

‘How come you have got nothing to confess? Haven’t you seen the shame that was performed yesterday? Have you not been tempted?’

‘No abbess, I was standing behind and couldn’t see much. And I didn’t look,’ she added in case Abbess wouldn’t interpret her words the way she wanted. ‘I can only be sorry for my being absent-minded today, what became the reason why I was late to the confession.’

No, she won’t tell her about Aislin, of course not. It was on her conscience, not on Erin’s. It was not her sin to confess.

‘Yes, you’d better be sorry for being too comfortable to blame The Holy Bible while making excuses for your idleness.’

Erin finally sat down and Abbess went on searching for another victim. Aislin took a quick side look at her which was filled with gratitude and Erin could notice her shoulders relaxed.

Everybody knew what a confession should be like. It’s a private one on one conversation with a priest or, if it’s not possible as in their case, a whispering talk with a spiritual guide while everyone else is waiting for their turn. But of course there was no privacy. And Abbess made the nuns stand up and confess in front of everyone, even when some of them would rather have a private talk. She seemed to find certain pleasure in their humiliation, probably believing this would be more effective. However, such methods eventually led to the nuns holding back things they’d be glad to get off their chests. Erin could point at several Sister who she was sure were not making a proper confession, including herself and saying nothing of Aislin.

After the confession was over, they began their evening service. They were praying, this time as one asking God to forgive them for what their eyes have seen. Maeve was whispering so energetically that she started coughing even harder than in the morning. She tried to hold it back not to disturb anyone but soon her face got red and another spasm of severe suffocating cough hit her with all its might.

‘See. The devil leaves her body. Pray more, Sisters, pray your sins away!’ Abbess’s shrill voice bounced from the walls.

Then Maeve let out a long breathless cough and finally could calm down.

Erin put her hand on Maeve’s shoulder. ‘Are you alright?’

Maeve’s face was red and tear-stained but she weakly nodded her head.

***

They both kneeled each in front of their bed facing a wooden crucifix on the wall. Erin put her hands in the prayer and was ready to be filled with bliss from the conversation with the Holy Father when a bulge in the middle of her Bible caught her eye. For a moment she panicked thinking that the book must have got wet somehow and she didn’t notice. She reached for it and opened at the place where the bulge was formed and her eyes widened from horror. The rose. She has completely forgotten about the flower Ivar gave her.

Goosebumps crept up her spine. It lay there, now almost dry, between the pages marking the holy words. She slammed the book shut before Maeve could see it.

Erin’s hand was shaking as she tried to cross herself. This reminder was like a slap on her cheek, worse than being humiliated by the Abbess at the confession.

Ivar. She suddenly realized that it was his name she was whispering instead of her prayer, as if tasting it. It rumbled like thunder. Fearsome and formidable. She sqeezed her eyes shut trying to get rid of he thoughts of him, but there he was eyeing her with his blue eyes, pushing the straw from one corner of his mouth into the other. And devilishly handsome. This she couldn't admit nor deny even to herself and so tried to chase this thought away, to push it to the back of her mind.

‘That dead guy hanging on the cross?’ she raised her eyes at the cross where Jesus was crucified, pain and agony on his face. ‘You can’t truly be married to someone who’s not even alive.’

What loathsome words to say! She tried to preach Aislin but how was she better herself? Talking to that pagan, taking gifts from him. She got up from her knees with emptiness in her soul.

In the silence of the room Erin heard Maeve’s heavy wheezing breath and the anxiety returned. She would always talk before they went to bed until Erin told her to go to sleep. But the girl was weirdly quiet the whole evening.

‘Maeve?’ Erin called. The girl shifted in her bed. Erin came up to her. Even from a distance she felt warmth radiating from Maeve’s body. She lit her face with the lamp. The girl’s cheeks were red and her hair stuck to her sweaty face.

‘I’m not feeling well, sister Erin,’ she weakly turned her head towards Erin. The movement made her cough again.

Erin lowered herself at her bed and touched Maeve’s forehead.

‘Oh my God, Maeve, you’re all feverish. We need a doctor to see you! I’m going to call for Abbess.’

She put on her clothes in a hurry but suddenly remembered about the flower hidden in her Bible. It was a good chance to get rid of it now while no one’s watching. She took it out but for some reason her all self rebelled. She’s been living in enclosure for her whole life, was always righteous, diligent and pious. Why should she be punished for a flower God knows she wasn’t going to accept. She put the rose inside her nightstand. She wanted to keep it. She didn’t know why but for the first time of her life she wanted something for herself.

While walking past quiet rooms, lighting the way in front of her, she heard a voice ringing in her head that sounded like hers but maybe it was God trying to reach to her.

‘What is it that you don’t have enough, Erin?’

* a cloistered nun - the nun who has taken a holy vow of poverty, chasity and obedience and is strictly bound by her Rule to stay in her monastery or enclosure.

#the vikings #ivar the boneless fanfiction #ivar the boneless #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings #vikings series #vikings show

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orthodoxadventure · 4 days ago

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He wanted to be King in people’s hearts

The Entry of the Lord into Jerusalem - also called Palm Sunday - is a feast commemorated by the Church on the sixth Sunday of the Great Lent that precedes the Sunday of the Pascha. Bishops Ambrose of Milan and Epiphanius of Cyprus mention it in their writings. Fourth-century vaults bear its depictions. As foretold by the Old Testament prophets, the people of Israel expected the Messiah to bring them salvation. He would come to Jerusalem on Pascha, the day preceding the annual celebration of the deliverance of the Jews from their captivity in Egypt. At the time, the Kingdom of Judah was then under the sovereignty of Rome, and many hoped that the Messiah would liberate them from foreign oppression.

The people had already heard about the resurrection of Lazarus and gave Christ a solemn welcome to Jerusalem. The city and its environs were bulging with pilgrims. As the historian Joseph Flavian wrote three decades later, the Roman Procurator ordered a count of the lambs slain in Jerusalem at Pascha. He found that the number approached a quarter million. Knowing that the Jews typically sacrificed one lamb per every ten celebrants, he estimated their total number to approach 2.5 million in Jerusalem alone. As the law stood, every adult Jew residing within 30 kilometres of Jerusalem had the duty to come to the capital of Israel for the Pascha. But this feast drew worshippers from all over Palestine and almost every corner of the world. We can assume, then, that the arrival of Jesus in Jerusalem was a most dramatic moment. People laid their clothes under his feet. They cut the branches of palms and waved them above their heads, greeting Christ as their King.

But Jesus had not come to Jerusalem to reign there. He only wanted to be King in people's hearts. He made it clear that he had come to seek peace, not make war. In the Middle East, entering a city on a donkey was a way to show peaceful intentions; and riding on horseback was a gesture of war. The horse was a vehicle of war and the donkey of peace. So Christ arrived in all humility on a donkey. Did Christ have any royal ambitions? Yes, but only to the kingdom of the world. He made it clear that he had not come to destroy, but to love; he was not there to condemn but to help, and not with armed force, but with the power of His love.

Palm trees do not grow in Russia, so it has been a long-standing custom among the faithful to bring to church branches of willows, a tree that puts forth leaves earlier than most other vegetation. As they stand at the all-night vigil on the eve of the feast, the worshippers meet the Lord walking invisibly in their midst, welcoming Him in His triumph over hell and death. They hold out the young branches of the willow, flowers and lighted candles.

Why do we still celebrate Palm Sunday with such great joy, as if we were standing with the people of Jerusalem to meet Christ in person? Why do we chant "Hosanna", as they did? We chant and rejoice because Christ has reigned and was acknowledged as King, if only of one faraway city. He taught about the Kingdom of God and His future enthronement there. Yet six days before the Pascha. He revealed His kingdom on earth; he made it visible and called on the people of Jerusalem and, by extension, all of us to become citizens of this Kingdom of Christ and subjects of this humble King with no earthly power or might but with all-powerful love.

Protoprebyter Alexander Shmemann

#Palm Sunday #Christianity #Orthodox Christianity #Orthodoxy #Lent

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thecatholicbozo · 5 months ago

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Happy Solemnity of Christ the King y’all!

#catholic #christian #catholicism #christianity #jesus #Christ the king

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angeltreasure · 11 months ago

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When I first heard about Marian Consecration, my first thought was skepticism. I personally had great difficulty understanding why it was even a thing, why so many Catholics were apparently doing it, what consecration actually is. I struggled in thought over it greatly when it was recommended to me at the time I revealed for the first time to any priest what happened to me when the enemy physically grabbed and paralyzed me months prior. I have delayed the consecration since, staying very cautious, for some reason… the thought of what Marian Consecration could be made me afraid, not wanting to make any mistake that would turn from honoring my Mother into worship (as I see some pagans try to do). Perhaps the block from learning the truth was a part of my own personal spiritual warfare. Marian Consecration is something not spoken about in Mass sermons either, like so many other things, so all the more I was left in the dark.

This year, I decided to start learning more on my own using proper discernment. I’ve watched and listened to countless hours of real videos of real Catholic priests from my country speak about exorcisms and spiritual warfare and the faith (plus the Catechism). I’ve learned so much that I can’t it all into this post, but to save time, I finally understand now in 2024 why Marian Consecration was highly suggested to me by that priest now. The devil fears Mary most of all, more than God. He can’t stand that a human would be chosen to be the mother of our Lord Jesus Christ, so full of grace and goodness to do God’s will. The devil may pray an Our Father during an exorcism but he will never be able to pray the Hail Mary. She will protect me under her mantle and strike at his head. It my Mother Mary, the Queen, who takes my prayer requests to the King, Jesus Christ, like a good queen does for a king. Mary, who will pray for me now and even at the hour of my death, that moment when devil will try his hardest to take me away from God!!!!…

I will be making my official Marian Consecration this year, on Thursday, August 15, 2024, on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (a Holy Day of Obligation).

Please say a Hail Mary for me.

#i’m still learning #personal #which reminds me I should request that day off from work

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inspiredbyjesuslove · 1 year ago

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#christianity #catholicism #catholic #faith #solemnity of christ the king

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houseofbrat · 1 month ago

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Hey HoB, what are your thoughts about the Iftar at Windsor? I don’t agree with it happening, at least in that location but I think the reaction to it and the outright lies being spread about it is ridiculous.

The King is literally the only Royal that consistently and visibly worships vs. anyone else who is usually only seen at headline services. He was literally anointed before the world in the only still religious coronation of a western Monarch and as Defender of the Faith.

I think the event is more a reflection of the leanings of the current government, who were democratically elected and would still be in charge is the monarchy was abolished tomorrow. After decades of fear mongering that Charles would be “too political”, the biggest vitriol is directed his way for not being political now and dissolving parliament/ inviting or disinviting heads of state etc.

It’s easy to make a scape goat of him so people don’t have to take responsibility for the governments they’ve elected. Would love to hear your thoughts and especially if this is being covered or discussed in the U.S.?

It's hard for me, as an American, to see what the fuss is about. Plenty of governors' mansions and the White House have held events like that in the past. It was held in a large room in Windsor Castle that wasn't a dedicated religious space, so, again, it's really hard for me to understand the outrage.

I saw people getting upset over the call to prayer happening in St. George's Hall, but then I think to myself that every church potluck I attended in a fellowship hall also started with a prayer. What's the difference?

I've seen people upset that the BRF social media accounts didn't post anything for Ash Wednesday, but Ash Wednesday is a solemn occasion, if you actually attend. ("You are dust, and to dust you shall return." Genesis 3:19) It's never been as holy as a day as Easter, Christmas, or Christ the King Sunday, which is why the paraments aren't white.

Ramadan is about 30 days long, but they only did one night at St. George's Hall in Windsor Castle. If they had done more nights, then perhaps I could see the outrage, but that hallway was used for less than 10% of the actual length of Ramadan.

Consider all that while less than half of all the UK considers themselves Christian and more than one-third say they have no religion. It's hard to see it as the "invasion" some people are portraying it as. It seems to me that a lot of people are expressing general anger about the state of the UK in general, just as a lot of people did after the Southport incident & riots last summer.

I haven't come across any reporting about this in the US at all. I don't think the "outrage" or whatever certain Brits feel is understandable to any or most Americans. There are so many Christian denominations and different religions in the US that I don't know anyone personally who would get offended at one Iftar banquet happening somewhere prestigious.

There's too much US news happening every day now. The economy is beginning to tank, and are we going to be invading Canada soon? I did not have that on my bingo card for this year, and if we roll tanks into Canada I will lose my shit!

#ask #uk #windsor castle #King Charles III #religion #twitter #donald trump #canada #2025: Year of the Wood Snake

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heresthestorymorningglory · 2 years ago

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Of Dreams and Dances

Holland March x Reader

Part 2 of a collab with the absolutely stunning @ken-dom after a freaky coincidence about a dream and a movie we both love... about coincidences

Read her beautiful fic and Part 1 Come Back To Me to truly understand our emotional roller coaster we hopped on together ❤️

Just a heads up, it's a tad angsty, and mentions of death, alcohol, and loss.

He wasn’t typically a bouncing ray of sunshine on a regular day, but the last week or so he had been particularly quiet.

You let out a heavy sigh standing at the kitchen sink, staring out into the dismal day that presented itself before you; it had been raining on and off for three days, today it was just overcast, but the dreary weather had been doing nothing for Holland’s solemn mood you had noticed.

You glanced into the living room drying your hands on a towel, music playing softly over your shoulder as you hung it back in place.

Holly, Holland’s daughter from his first (and only) marriage sat with her feet tucked under her, curled in the big armchair engrossed in her book, a Stephen King novel you had recommended to her a few weeks ago you noted; she had a bit of a spooky streak in her like you did…this made you smile.

You grabbed one of the plates with a grilled cheese sandwich off the counter and took it in to her; it took her a minute to realize you had been standing there offering her the plate. You chuckled to yourself when she jumped a little, finally seeing you.

“Good book?”

She nodded taking the plate “Thanks”

You smiled “Just remember, vampires aren’t real”

She scoffed as you turned back toward the kitchen to finish cleaning up “Neither are mermaids” she muttered under her breath burying her nose back in the pages.

“Don’t tell your dad” you call over your shoulder

“Tell her dad what?” Holland asks, barging through the front door like only he can.

“Mermaids aren’t real” she says from her spot on the chair, not bothering to glance up from her book until Holland snatches half of her uneaten sandwich off the plate resting on the arm “Hey!”

He makes a face at her as you come out of the kitchen with a second plate “I made you one too, you don’t have to steal from your daughter”

Before Holland can take the plate, Holly reaches up replacing the missing half of her sandwich; Holland takes the plate in one hand, the other arm locking itself firmly around your waist, the half sandwich he’d stolen off Holly’s plate already gone.

“Jesus Christ Holland, chew” you look at him as he kisses your temple swallowing the last of his mouthful.

He waves a hand dismissively releasing you from his hold as he heads towards the bedroom, plate in hand. “Gonna take a nap”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as he disappears “Love you!” you call after him

A long pause. “Sure thing, sweetheart!” comes his response from somewhere in the bedroom

You sigh, flopping on the couch, turning on the television and flipping channels waiting for something to catch your attention.

“He loves you too, y’know”

“Hmm?” You turn your attention to Holly, her legs draped over the arm of the chair now, empty plate on the floor

“He’s just afraid to say so” she continues, thumb keeping her place in her book “Because of Mom and stuff”

You give her a look and she just nods “I know, don’t say, and stuff” she mimics Holland as she rolls her eyes

You laugh lightly acknowledging her statement with a nod “I know he does”

It’s quiet for a minute before Holly speaks again, this time her voice is a little softer, a little quieter. “It’s her birthday tomorrow”

She’s dropped her head, she’s not looking at you anymore; she doesn’t want to see your reaction, doesn’t want to make eye contact; so much like her dad.

All at once Holland’s recent behavior makes sense, he never coped with his emotions well.

You knew when you met him he had been married before; Holly had very snidely pointed out the fact when you had first met her, you were quite certain she was convinced you were there to do nothing more but ruin Holland’s life.

She has since warmed up to you, confided in you even.

You never asked about his wife, but you knew tidbits,

You knew she had died, tragically, something Holland blamed himself for with a gut wrenching guilt that made your chest hurt.

Holly had told you late one night when you found her in an abandoned lot in their old neighbourhood, their old house it had turned out….

There had been a gas leak, and a fire. “Dad had his nose thing, so he couldn't smell the gas” Holly had said, before quickly changing the subject.

You had found out later, on a night when Holland had been completely consumed with guilt, drunk, and inconsolable, that he had only had time to get Holly out of the house.

***

Your mouth dropped open, hearing him tearfully recount that night that lived so vividly in his mind; you sat with him on the dingy bathroom floor as he sobbed, his body fighting the urge to throw up a second time as sobs echoed against the walls around you, his entire form shaking with grief.

You held him against your chest, rocking gently as he spoke.

“She yelled at me, told me-” his voice catching in his throat as he sniffed “T-told me to get Hol-Holly out”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your own cheeks as he continued.

“She was asleep and I-” he paused taking a breath hiccuping “I carried her outside and someone…someone took her from me. I tried to go back…but, the house it was….the flames were so….”

He trailed off lost in the memory and it was quiet for a long time before he spoke again

“Then it exploded” he said so softly you’d barely heard him “I would have….it should have been me”

****

As time wore on, you learned just how racked with guilt Holland had been, you gathered Holly hadn’t had any idea that he had only fulfilled her mom’s dying wish; for her, Holland just hadn’t learned how to move on, and she had been left to pick up his broken pieces and be the adult, make sure he ate, and slept…or passed out…kept a job. At twelve.

He wore their wedding ring around his neck, even after you had moved in together, you made a point of reassuring him that it was okay, he didn’t have to take it off, you understood.

It had come out on one of these drunken nights, which at first were frequent, and really the only time Holland would really talk to you in his drunken stupor; that he had slept in the tub, filled with water, because he passed out so often with a half finished cigarette that he had been afraid of history repeating itself.

Now, only after many nights of reassurance and many more mornings waking up on your own, only to find him propped up in the porcelain tub, an empty bourbon bottle on the bathroom floor, he slept next to you almost nightly, only having fallen asleep on the couch on occasion after a late night on a case.

It had taken a long time to get here; for all three of you; you hadn’t signed up for a pathetic broken man to fix; who didn’t want to be fixed. A man who would rather numb the emotion and night terrors with bottle after bottle and who chained smoked like no one you had ever seen.

Yet, you found yourself put in his path over and over again for weeks straight and only after what you assumed had to be at least his tenth (you had lost count) attempt at very clumsily asking you out on a date you agreed.

He had told Holly, Healy, and anyone else who would listen that you hadn’t been able to resist his charm; you had never told him, and never would, but truthfully it was out of pity, you felt sorry for this man in front of you who had barely been able to stand on his own two feet, who so obviously craved human contact that you agreed to one date, assuming you would never see him again.

To this day, it had been the strangest date you had been on; it had started off normal enough, you had met him at a bar in the city, not completely surprised that this was his location of choice, it was only after you had found out that Holly had tagged along, much to Holland’s annoyance.

***

“You left your daughter in the trunk?!” You asked, completely shocked as you stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, Holly stood next to you with her arms folded looking irritated with him and untrustworthy of you.

“She was supposed to be a Janet’s” he said gesturing to Holly swaying on his feet, who had just rolled her eyes

“JESSICA’S!” she yelled, her nose almost touching his before she scoffed with disgust

He ignored her, holding his hand out in what you assumed he thought was her general direction “Keys”

Holly held them out and before Holland could reach for them you intercepted taking them from her “Absolutely fucking not”

“I can just drive” she glared at you and your mouth dropped open in shock

“Excuse me?” you raised your eyebrows watching to make sure Holland didn’t stumble into the busy street as he leaned against the front of the car. “You don’t have a license!”

“You’re joking right?” She turned her attention towards you

You shook your head “I am not, you are a child”

She pointed towards Holland “And he’s a fuck up! He drinks, he lies to people and stuff, and people hate you!” She had fully rounded on her heel, hurling her insults at him.

“Sweetheart, don’t say and stuff, just-”

“I hate you!” She had yelled loud enough to turn heads of passer’s by

“Oh, kay” you pressed your lips together ushering her in the backseat “In the car; I’ll drive”

Holland had gotten himself in the passenger seat, only after somehow managing to nearly slam his fingers in the door first.

The ride back had been quiet, Holland had laid back in the seat and you thought for sure he would pass out; Holly sat behind him in back seemingly completely unfazed by the exchange that had happened on the sidewalk. You assumed that hadn’t been the first time she had told Holland she hated him.

You had pulled into the driveway of the house and without a word Holly stomped off into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Holland had asked you to stay, and against your better judgment, something in your gut had told you to.

You pitied this man, but something about him made you feel like he hadn’t stumbled (literally) into your path by coincidence.

You sat on the front step of the house, playing with the car keys, looking at your shoes as Holland lit another cigarette.

“She doesn’t actually hate me y’know” he said, dropping his lighter back in his pocket.

You laughed a little “I hope not"

He scrunched his nose shaking his head, plucking his cigarette from between his lips “She’s a kid”

You found it odd he could say something so matter of factly and yet he treated her like someone well beyond her years.

You felt sorry for her too, knowing she probably felt she didn’t have a choice, it was clear that it had been the two of them against the world for a long time. She took care of him because she needed to be cared for, and at the end of the day, he was her dad.

“Hey,” Holland’s voice had snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head almost colliding with his; he was leaning significantly closer than he had been a minute ago.

Before you could protest, his nose bumped against yours; his large, overheated hands cupped your face as he kissed you, his lips pressed firmly against yours, his body leaning forward more and more as he had started to lose his balance.

Before he could topple over on you completely, you pushed him back gently and he looked sheepishly at his lap like he had done something wrong.

“Sorry,” he muttered “I just been thinkin’ about that for a while”

For as drunk as he had been, you were surprised he wasn’t slurring his words. You were a little taken aback by his confession and you felt heat flush your cheeks despite the cool night air.

“You have?” you asked, really looking at him for the first time; studying him.

He was an absolute mess of a man, that much was clear, a drinking problem, questionable parenting tactics, questionable ethics, some serious baggage. He wore his wedding band around his neck, and he had just kissed you, after a disaster of a date, if you could even call it that and yet…

He was handsome, almost to a fault, as disheveled as he was sitting next to you on that step. There was something oddly charming about his wrinkled suit pants, his shoes laid on the sidewalk where he had kicked them off, announcing that they were painful and unnecessary and he now sat barefoot. His hair had been windswept and messy, but not unclean. His suit jacket laid next to him on his other side forgotten, his shirt askew, the first couple of buttons undone. His facial features were surprisingly boyish for a man his age, a slender pointed nose and blue eyes that you realized were studying you with an intensity that made you pull your bottom lip against your teeth

He had nodded in response to your question, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink and you immediately found yourself closing the small gap between you, a hand cupping his face, pulling him closer as you kissed him a second time, deeper this time. Your heart fluttered in your chest in a way that you hadn’t felt in too long as his soft lips moved with an expertise even given his current state.

Your lips parted and he accepted your silent invitation, his tongue slipping past your lips hesitantly with a small noise in the back of his throat.

Your body flooded with a deep heat that immediately stopped as the porch light had been flicked on, illuminating the darkness.

Holland had jumped, pulling back but not before biting your lip. You touched a hand to your lips with a small laugh as you looked over your shoulder, Holly standing in the doorway, arms folded with a scowl on her face. Holland looked like a busted teenager and it almost made you laugh out loud.

“You can go now” she sneered and Holland hadn’t really noticed as you both got to your feet

You couldn’t really blame her, she was protecting them, him.

“But you should-” Holland stopped searching his brain for the lost words “You should stay”

You shook your head “I don’t think so” you bent to hand him his jacket and shoes so he didn’t absolutely face plant on the cement.

“Then come back,” he reasoned “Tomorrow”

You sighed running your tongue between your lips “Okay, sure” you shrugged; he was too drunk to remember anyway

“Pinky promise?” He offered a pinky and Holly huffed from her place on the step

You had hesitated simply because of her reaction, this obviously was something special between them. You nodded, but didn’t take his pinky, glancing at Holly whose shoulders had dropped slightly as she relaxed before turning back to Holland “I promise”

Much to your surprise, Holland did remember, and you had kept your promise and come back the next day, and every day since.

***

“He used to sing”

Holly’s soft spoken words pull you out of your memory from a not so distant past. The book she had been reading sits closed in her lap as she stares out the window lost in thought herself.

“Did he?” you ask, slightly surprised, you didn’t take Holland to be the type.

She nods slowly “And dance too; sometimes he’d sing really bad just to make Mom laugh” she scrunched her nose like Holland did when he was confused about something before she continued “He has this weird thing about sweet potatoes too; he used to eat them all the time, he doesn’t anymore”

You smiled, watching her reminisce but your heart broke for her; she had lost both her parents that night and she had never really grieved either of them.

You pulled yourself up from the couch and walked over, wrapping her in a hug as she sat sideways on the chair; both her arms wrapped around your forearm, pinning it to her chest, chin tucked against it and you rested your chin on top of her head.

You looked up catching a glance from Holland who had made his way from the bedroom; you traded a look as he took his dirty dish into the kitchen. You stood with Holly, quiet, holding her until she let go.

She sniffed quietly, a hand quickly wiping away what you were certain were fresh tears before she picked up the book in her lap, busying herself with the words on the page.

You didn’t say anything, just rubbed her back gently before taking your own dirty dishes into the kitchen where Holland stood just out of view.

Setting the plates on the counter, you wrapped yourself around Holland’s slim frame, burying your face in his chest with a deep sigh, breathing in his scent.

After a minute of silence, you pulled back and his blue eyes searched your face;

“Go dance with your daughter” you spoke quietly and his brow furrowed slightly

“What?”

“Go dance with Holly” you repeated “Like you used to”

You watched the realization wash over his features as he put the pieces together about what he had walked in on a few minutes ago and he shook his head

“I-I can’t”

“Holland,” you kept your voice low as your reached to touch his face, his eyes slipping closed as your fingertips made contact with his cheek, his hands still on your waist “She needs this, she needs her dad; especially now”

A single tear slipped down his cheek and you wiped it away with your thumb as he opened his eyes with a deep breath through his nose.

He didn’t say anything else, just walked around you out into the living room; you turned and watched as he made his way over to the chair where Holly sat, she glanced up from her book as he offered her a hand.

She looked at him slightly confused before he took her hand himself, pulling her to her feet and into the middle of the room, the book forgotten in the chair. She was tall for her age, but not quite tall enough to reach Holland’s shoulders until she stood on the tops of his feet.

After a couple of steps, Holland’s voice floated through the otherwise silent house, humming softly. You watched as Holly’s shoulders started to shake and her head dropped; Holland picked her up under the arms like you would with a small child, lifting her into his arms as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck properly, burying her face in his neck; one of his hands stroking her blonde hair as she cried openly.

You could tell from your spot in the kitchen, he had been crying too. A lump forming in your own throat as you watched the two of them consumed by a moment neither of them thought they would have again; Holland, getting the chance to be the dad he had wanted, the dad he had intended to be for her. Holly, able to be the little girl she should have been before she had to grow up too quickly. His little girl.

Holland had sank to his knees on the carpeted floor, still holding Holly tightly to his chest; both of them letting the grief and loss they had kept bottled between them for so long finally be felt; You leaned back against the kitchen counter, giving them their private moment. Eyes closed as you listened to the heart wrenching sobs coming from the two of them, tears streaming down your own cheeks as you felt for them, grieving yourself for a woman you had never met but had unintentionally become such a huge part of your own life.

Later that night, you laid in the bed you shared with Holland; Holly had asked him to tuck her in and you could hear the soft murmurs of their conversation across the hall before you heard her bedroom door being pulled shut and Holland appeared in the doorway and he looked tired.

You watched him get undressed, pulling the covers back and climbing between the sheets; most nights you snuggled against him, your head resting on his chest, but tonight roles were reversed.

His head lying on your chest, you played with pieces of his dirty blonde hair, his arm draped around your midsection, his wedding band cool against your collarbone as he laid on his side, breathing softly.

He spoke and you almost jumped, startled by the noise “Does it bother you that I don’t-” he hesitated for a beat “That I can’t-.....that I can’t…y’know?”

You frowned trying hard to piece together what he was asking “Can’t what, babe?”

“That I can’t say it” he sighed defeated

Then you understood rubbing his bare arm slowly “No” you shook your head slowly “No, Holland it doesn’t”

He relaxed into your chest as you kissed the top of his head, watching the shadows dance on the wall in the dark.

The house was quiet, Holland’s head heavy on your chest as he breathed steadily.

“God I miss her” he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep

You thought about letting him think you had just fallen asleep, but decided against it “Tell me about her?” you asked, your fingers moving slowly through his hair again

A long pause.

“She was beautiful” he whispered “Holly looks just fucking like her”

You stayed quiet as he continued “She named her after me….”

Another pregnant pause as he lost himself in a long forgotten memory.

“And she loved tea”

You nodded “Tea’s good” you smiled

“American’s do it wrong” he shrugged against you “I still don’t fucking know what ‘the English way’ means”

You couldn’t help laughing then

“Don’t know how you can fuck up a cup of tea” he muttered, very obviously drifting off as he spoke.

You had drifted off yourself at some point but woke with a start, the weight of Holland’s head on your chest was gone; you turned over and the bed was empty.

You sighed pulling yourself up out of bed, the sky still dark out the window. You grabbed Holland’s housecoat off the back of the bedroom door, wrapping it around yourself as you tiptoed through the dark house.

You poked your head into Holly’s bedroom and she slept soundly. You assumed Holland had made his way back to his old comforts, but frowned when you found the tub also empty.

“Alright,” you muttered softly to yourself, “Where did you go?”

You answered your own question fairly quickly, finding the dark figure you could only assume was Holland, sitting at the kitchen table in the dark, shoulders hunched, moonlight reflecting off the glass of a mostly empty bottle in his hand resting on the table.

“Holland?” you whispered, not wanting to startle him in the dark.

When he didn’t answer or move you let out a slow breath pressing your lips together in a hard line before you tried again.Your heartbeat thudded in your ears as you spoke, muffling your own voice.

“Holland?” you said again, a little louder

He shifted in his chair then and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank God” you whispered.

Just the way he had shifted so unsteadily in his chair you could tell he was drunk, very drunk.

“You came back” he slurred, getting to his feet, catching himself on the back of the chair as you took a tentative step forward.

“What?” you asked, as he was across the room in a flash, nearly toppling you both to the floor as he drunkenly smashed his lips against yours, his arms wrapping around you with a bruising strength.

He pulled back, taking your face in his hands, his eyes were glazed and bloodshot, he had been crying. Hard.

“You came back” he whispered before crushing you against him a second time, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“I didn’t go anywhere” you strained against his chest trying to make the least bit of sense about his drunken ramblings.

“Happy Birthday, Baby” He muttered into your hair and you closed your eyes wrapping your arms around him as it clicked.

You stood in the dark kitchen, silently holding each other for a few minutes before he spoke again, his lips pressed against your ear as he leaned into your shoulder.

“God damn it I miss you”

You could smell the alcohol heavy, but wanted to help him hold on to this memory as long as he needed; or as long as you could.

“Dance with me” you whispered; your hand slipping up the back of his head resting in his hair, the other snaking under his arm hooking around the back of his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Both of his arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. You rocked slowly on your feet, but stayed in one spot for fear that too much movement and Holland would either lose his balance or throw up ... .or both.

He had been too lost in the memory to realize you hadn’t been moving much; your neck and shoulder were wet with tears.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him gently, rubbing your hand up and down his back

“I can’t do this without you” he slurred “We were supposed to do it together…a team”

“You’re doing just fine” you soothe

“I’m not” he shook his head a little too aggressively, making himself dizzy “I’m a failure”

You lifted his head off your shoulder then, forcing him to look at you; he was far too gone to differentiate the person standing in front of him at this point. You had your hands on either side of his face, his forehead leaning against yours.

“You are not a failure, Holland March, do you hear me?”

He didn’t answer and you patted his cheek gently “Hey, do you understand?” you asked again “You have a beautiful daughter-”

He just scrunched his face shaking his head “She hates me, she thinks I’m a fuck up”

“She doesn’t hate you,” you said softly. "She loves you so much"

You realized if you let it, this conversation was going to keep going in circles.

“Come on,” You wrapped an arm around his waist keeping him upright “We’re going back to bed”

“Gonna give me those twins?” he asked, leaning on you heavily.

You closed your mouth realizing it had dropped open, as you led him down the hallway not sure what to say. Thankfully he hadn’t seemed to notice.

He flopped heavily on the bed and you pulled the blanket up around him before shedding the housecoat and climbing in next to him.

He turned over none too gracefully to face you as you laid on your side, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “You were supposed to give me a hundred babies” His voice was soft

You reached to push his hair off his forehead; the same softness to your own words “I’m sorry”

He just hummed, his eyes slipping closed briefly as his fingers interlaced with yours between you.

You leaned forward, kissing him gently and he hummed again, slipping deeper into sleep.

You closed your own eyes, pushing your free hand through his hair

“I love you” he muttered, barely understandable

You opened your eyes and watched him lying next to you, one hand’s fingers entwined with yours, his other arm lazily draped over your hip, his eyes closed.

“I love you too, Holland” You whispered watching as a smile touched the corner of his lips before he started to snore softly, living blissfully in a world he could only reach in a dream.

#holland march x reader #the nice guys #ryan gosling #holland march

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