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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N’s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends, but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

Text

Double edged scalpel ch. 3

Ch.1 Ch.2

Summary: "it matches your eyes"

----

Cleaning Cassandra’s study became routine. Once a week, her chores were swapped for a two way -for now- trip to the dungeons. Despite every other maid looking at her with utter pity in their eyes, the redhead was not really complaining. She would take Cassandra’s mock autopsies and weird collection of specimens over dusting an ancient opera hall any day. It gave her an odd sense of nostalgia, almost as if she was back with her classmates studying forensic pathology and a friend threatening to throw a severed hand at her.

She also got to see glimpses of Cassandra. Not that they talked, oh no, the brunette would simply observe her and come up with the occasional task to get a raise out of Nicole and, when it failed to do so, she would grumpily go back to whatever she was doing prior. Her study, however, was an open book. While cleaning the shelves by the desk, Nicole took her time to read the title on each and every worn spine of her books. A lot of them more or less outdated medical books, some relatively modern looking textbooks, even an occasional novel tucked in between its more science oriented siblings. The adjacent wall was full of what looked like hand drawn diagrams, messy notes pinned by tape or even sticky notes. Nicole even noticed a family photo taped to that same wall. It was black and white, with the castle’s courtyard in the background, the three sisters standing in front of their mother.

Cassandra was sitting in her chair, occupying herself with her sickle when all of a sudden she stilled. She pulled out her pocket watch, softly cursed under her breath and pushed herself out of the chair. She was about to exit the room when she probably realized that Nicole was not supposed to be there by herself.

“Ugh...Follow me. I can’t leave you here alone and I need to get something.”

With the mop abandoned by a wall, Nicole followed the brunette’s hurried steps through the main hallways of the castle, occasionally crossing paths with another staff member. It took no more than five minutes to get to their destination. Bela and Daniela could be heard from inside a room near the castle’s main entrance when Cassandra pushed open its ornate door and stepped inside. Nicole took two steps behind her when a familiar voice called out.

“Ah, Nicole darling! I see you’ve settled in,” Duke said in his usual cheerful tone.

It did little to stop her stomach from sinking a little when three sets of golden eyes snapped in her direction. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care when he went on. “I hope my favorite clients here are treating you well.” Oh god please shut up. “Lady Cassandra! Your package is also here.”

She wordlessly took a wrapped box from him and, with a thanks, went out the door. Not wanting to fall behind, Nicole gave Duke a small wave and a smile before turning around to follow. She had to almost jog to keep up with her long strides. Damn you short legs.

“How on earth do you know him?” Cassandra’s question was accompanied by narrowed eyes.

Was there any point in lying? Lady Dimitrescu already knew so her ever so nice middle daughter could always find out too.

“He’s the one that brought me here.”

“From the village?”

Nicole rubbed her temples. “From a hotel bar in the nearest big city.” She was beyond done with this conversation.

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, grabbing the other girl's shoulders when she almost crashed into her. Was that a genuine trace of concern in her eyes?

“You mean you’re not from here? Does mother know?”

Nicole nodded, but before she had time to add anything else, another voice called out for the brunette from behind the pair. It was Bela, the sound of heels on the marble floors echoing around them as she approached.

“Cassandra, dinner is in two hours.”

“And?”

“And you said you would take care of the meat. Did you?”

The blonde scoffed at her sister’s widened eyes, then hooked a finger around the chain connected to Cassandra’s watch and clicked her tongue when she saw the time.

“If you insist on carrying this around at all times, you could at least start making use of it. You have around twenty minutes.” Her voice was icy cold, as opposed to Cassandra’s stammered reply.

“Wait, can you stall the cook for a bit, there’s no way I can do two bodies in twenty minutes!”

“Sorry Cassandra, that’s out of my hands.” And with that, the blonde turned on her heels and left the two of them at the entrance of the dungeons, Cassandra damn near seething.

The two wasted no time in hastily descending the stony dungeon steps, Nicole going back to the study while Cassandra went towards the cells. After no more than two minutes, she came in and haphazardly threw a body on each table.

The most logical thing to do would be to go about her chores and not risk attracting the brunette's wrath upon herself. But logic was out the window the moment she stepped foot into the Duke's caravan to come to this place. Besides, staying on Cassandra's good side was far better than mopping the floor in hopes she wouldn't snap one day and throw her in one of the moldy cells.

"Would you like some help with those?" Nicole asked tentatively.

"Can you help?" Cassandra didn't even look in her direction, only throwing a hand in the air and taking out what looked like freezer safe bags from a cupboard.

"...Yeah."

Golden eyes turned to her and the brunette stilled for a second. Skepticism and confusion both obvious on her face at the idea of this small meek maid offering to help out in chopping up a human body. She realized however that the alternative wasn't much better so with a raised eyebrow she put a scalpel and a pair of gloves on the table closest to Nicole.

"Suit yourself. And don't make a mess." Oh you're to talk.

Now, admittedly, performing an autopsy wasn't exactly the same as straight up butchering a human body for consumption. How different would it be though? The organs just needed to be separated and the limbs cut. She tried not to look at the face while making the first incision.

---

It took 17 minutes for both of them to finish. All the bits and pieces were separated and secured in bags just in time for a knock on the door. Cassandra threw her gloves in the sink and went to open it, letting an older woman only vaguely familiar to Nicole inside.

"Lady Cassandra, I didn't know you had help," she raised an eyebrow at the redhead awkwardly standing by the table she had worked at, scalpel still in hand.

Cassandra only grimaced and with mock cheerfulness in her voice said, "Surprise."

The older woman, presumably the cook, motioned for the maids that came with her to take the bags and, with a slight bow of the head to Cassandra, they were gone, only the bloody mess on the tables left behind. The brunette let a sigh escape past her lips and turned to Nicole. Her yellow gaze examined the now bloody uniform for a moment.

"A shame this got dirty," she said, approaching the redhead.

Tiredness and holding her tongue never mixed well within Nicole, so at the obviously fake apologetic tone she allowed an edge of snark into her reply.

"Oh don't worry, the maids are all quite good at washing out blood stains. It's part of the job requirements."

Cassandra just chuckled and rolled her eyes at the sass.

"Just ask the head chambermaid for a replacement. This is seriously ruined," she said toying with the hem of Nicole's white blouse, now soaked in crimson. "Your face however, we can still salvage that."

Nicole furrowed her brows and brought a hand to her cheek, cursing herself under her breath upon realizing that she was still wearing the bloody gloves and had just smeared even more on her face. She took them off and threw them on a cleaner spot on the table to be retrieved later. Meanwhile, the brunette moved to the sink and returned shortly with a damp handkerchief.

She grabbed Nicole's chin between two slender fingers and tilted her head upward. Nicole could feel the metal of the table's edge against her lower back when she instinctively tried taking a step back. She had no way of escaping. Not that escaping even as much as grazed the surface of her mind when she locked eyes with Cassandra, an uncharacteristic sort of softness in her gaze. She took her sweet time passing the damp fabric over the blood stained skin. Then, after she seemed content with her handywork, she dragged her fingers over Nicole's cheek in a caress that sent a small shiver down the redhead's spine.

"There. Good as new," the brunette hummed.

It was a complete lie and they both knew it. The blush now present on Nicole's cheeks was probably just as bad as the crimson stains she was sporting mere moments ago, she was quite sure of that. By some mercy of the crow woman these people worshipped though, Cassandra didn't acknowledge it and simply moved back to her desk, leaving Nicole frozen in place.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassandra chuckled and, without turning from whatever she was scribbling in a notebook, said:

"Those tables won't clean themselves darling."

Oh shut the fuck up.

---

Most staff members preferred to spend their free time in the gardens, be it the inner courtyard or the fenced in garden at the back of the estate. Nicole was no exception to that. When she had time, she liked to grab a hot cup of tea and sit down in this small nook of the garden where a small, almost knee high bench was overshadowed by large rose bushes. Nobody else seemed to come there if the old cracked wood of the small seat was anything to go by, except maybe the gardener for occasional maintenance but she was nowhere to be seen most times.

The quiet was interrupted by a distant set of heavy steps. Steps that Nicole ignored. She wasn't in any off limits area and this was her day off. She wasn't doing anything wrong and, therefore, had no reason to believe whoever was walking around was there for her. Until the steps became louder and the sound of heels clear on the stony path.

"There you are," Cassandra's voice almost made Nicole spit out the tea she was currently drinking.

The brunette laughed at that, in an oddly good mood and stopped to stand in front of the redhead. Cassandra's "good mood" made Nicole highly suspicious given past experience. She set her cup down and, with a cough to clear out her offended airways, stood and addressed the brunette.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Aside from having my one free day interrupted. Again.

She saw Cassandra pout for a brief moment but it was quickly replaced by her ever so characteristic smirk. A smirk that Nicole would never admit was awfully attractive paired with the sharp features of her face. At least not out loud.

"I have wonderful news for you," she said, tilting Nicole's head up with a hand, thumb distractingly close to her lips. "Cynthia, our cook, said she really appreciated the way you sectioned that body last week. So mother decided to give you a ...promotion so to speak."

Nicole had yet to decide whether this was indeed wonderful news or not, but the part of her brain that was seeking some kind of thrill made that decision for her when Cassandra leaned in close to her ear, lips tantalizingly close to the skin.

"Congratulations, from now on you're only working with me in the dungeons."

Cassandra didn't want to kill her did she? She did say that Nicole was intriguing to her and therefore the redhead was somewhat safe from ending up on one of the autopsy tables herself. At least that's what she told that part of her mind still somewhat concerned about self preservation that was screaming at how risky her next move was.

She gingerly placed her hands on the brunette's hips, tilting her head in a way not unlike Cassandra did mere moments ago.

"Does that mean I get to teach you proper autopsy technique?"

Thankfully that got a chuckle out of her, moving back just enough to be able to look into Nicole's green eyes. "Assuming you manage to keep your tongue long enough."

She couldn't do much more than let out a soft laugh at the absurdity of her situation. There she was, in the garden of a castle in the middle of nowhere with the Lady's sadistic daughter mere inches from her. She decided that at that point in her life if she was going to die, she may as well go out in style, and what on earth could top falling for one of the most dangerous women in a village full of horrors. She shifted her hand slightly, bumping into the handle of the sickle strapped to Cassandra's waist.

"May I?" She said barely above a whisper, fingers wrapping loosely around the weapon.

Cassandra gave her an incredulous look, trying to understand what on earth she could want with the weapon. She was aware she couldn't hurt her right?

A small shrug was all the permission Nicole needed. She undid the leather strap that kept the sickle in place and moved back only a bit. Enough to step on the small bench and lift herself. She felt Cassandra's hands placed on her waist for support, almost mimicking the gentleness of Nicole's touch from earlier, when she raised herself on her tiptoes. She took hold of one of the roses above them -a yellow one- and with a quick swipe she cut the stem. The brunette watched her take her sweet time scraping off any thorns before her hood was taken off and that same rose was now placed in her dark wavy hair, right above her left ear.

"Mm… it matches your eyes. And necklace," Nicole added, bending down to return the sickle to its rightful place.

Cassandra crashed their lips the next second, her hands pulling Nicole closer from where they were placed on her hips. After a second of shocked stillness, the kiss was returned, their lips tentatively sliding against each other. "Tentatively" didn't last long however, as Cassandra pushed forward, pressing the her against the stone wall behind them eliciting a small moan from Nicole, who's hand ended up tangled in black locks. She tugged on them slightly once she finally needed to breathe and Cassandra pulled back only a bit. She let their foreheads rest against each other and felt Nicole's soft laugh on her lips.

"Do you even need to breathe?"

"No," the brunette answered simply.

Nicole blinked in confusion, not expecting her half joke to turn out truthful but before she could speak, Cassandra took a hand off her waist and pulled something out of a pocket.

"Here," she pushed a familiar looking object into the redhead's hands.

"Y...Your key to the dungeons?" She was still trying to get her thoughts organized into some sort of coherence when Cassandra rolled her eyes.

"It's a copy. So I don't have to escort you every time you come down there, which," she added with a gloved finger brushing against her lower lip, "is gonna be more frequent now."

Nicole nodded, not really trusting her words. She didn't need any though, as Cassandra simply pushed herself off the wall and turned on her heels to leave.

"See you tomorrow at dawn."

And with a smirk, she broke into a swarm of flies and disappeared down the stony path.

#youre either gonna love this or despise it bc of the pacing #hey i never said i was a GOOD writer #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #double edged scalpel #fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Hue and Cry XVII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader and Zemo try to figure out what’s next.

Note: Hey, I banged this out quicker than expected. This part went longer than I expected to not as much happened as I thought hahaha. But here we go, again.(I will try to update the masterlist asap)

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

Two Summers Later

The sun raised beads of sweat across your brow, even in the shadow of the tree. A gentle breeze rolled over the grass now and again, a soft sort of heat. You laid across the blanket in your thin dress, a subtle movement beside you, low babbling and grasping fingers. You breathed in the scent of pollen and watched the lush leaves sway above.

The footsteps were light but he was careful not to frighten you. The baby girl murmured, over a year old now. She stood, unsteadily, and he caught her before she stumbled too far. His shadow loomed above you as he lifted Elina and smiled at her round cheeks.

“How is my little baroness?” he cooed as he bounced her and her gibberish grew louder as she grabbed at his pale tunic, “my lady?” he peered down at you, “you look… serene.”

“She likes to watch the cloud but it’s much too bright today,” you sat up and grabbed your cane from against the trunk. Lord Zemo offered his hand and helped you to your feet, “so we have watched the bloom instead.”

“She is getting big. More agile,” he commented as she tugged at his beard. He’d grown it over the winter but hadn’t cut it even in the heat. She liked to pet it and you suspected that was the reason for his obstinacy, “how will you keep up with her?”

“I have learned,” you poked him with the tip of your cane, “still learning.”

“Very quickly,” he praised, “the accent is better,” he pinched two fingers together, “I almost believe you a woman of this land.”

“Sometimes I believe it myself,” you went to the bench and sat heavily. Your hip never healed quite as it had been before so you limped with the carved wood capped with silver and made the best of it, “bring her here,” you set the can aside and pulled the thin scarf over your shoulders, “she should eat.”

“I told you, a wet nurse would do her better,” he neared and handed her over after a final peck on her cheek, “and she is getting older. She eats at the table now.”

“She will have some proper food when we get in,” you covered her against your chest and unlaced the front of your gown, “I like having her close.”

He nodded and paced through the grass. He removed his silk cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He was anxious as of late, you noticed only because it was an unusual trait for him. He sighed as he tucked his hat into his belt.

“Would you tell me?” you asked sharply as Elina latched.

“Tell you what?” he tilted his head coyly.

“What makes you uneasy?” you urged.

The tugging in your chest calmed you as you cradled your daughter close. When she was born, that had been difficult. She reminded you of her father then but now she was yours. She was the only gift he’d ever given you.

“It is… complicated,” he said with a frown, “I think it best we put the child down before we talk on it.”

“If you wish,” you relented, “Werner says she is doing well. I went to him this morning.”

“And you?” Zemo crossed his arms, “does he say you are doing well?”

You kept one arm around Elina and unthinkingly brushed the scar that stretched from your hairline to your chin, a rippled line along your cheek, one of a dozen markers of that fateful day. You still dreamed of it but they weren’t so much nightmares as vague memories.

“I will need the cane so long as I live,” you said and dropped your arm back under the scarf, “the scars will fade but not entirely. I suppose none of that matters.”

He nodded and rubbed his chin as he began to pace again, “back from the dead,” he mused, “we have a legend here, about a woman, a queen…” he went on, “she married a king who did not love her nor she him. He wanted another and he was… quite intent on it. So he accused her of adultery and witchery and passed on her the harshest sentence; she was drawn and quartered, pulled apart by horses.

“We have since done away with such punishments, too savage, but the legend goes that they buried the parts of her and the king married his lover on her grave. The gods saw it as an affront, the lies, the trial held in their names, the death imparted in the same vein, and then a mocking marriage on the site of their sins…

“In her casket, her body reformed though she still showed the signs of her fate. She climbed out of her resting place and visited her king in the night. She’d never done that before you see because he had no love for her, he never even tried, and she tore him piece by piece, worse even then the horses. Fingers, toes, tongue… balls, every bit of him plucked little by little until he was nothing.

“The legend never did say where she went after that, her grave was found disturbed and her body gone. Those women who suffer with violent or cruel men, they pray to her, they burn candles for her, and even, they kill their men for her.”

“Why are you saying all this?” you interrupted as you wiped up your chest and clumsily tied up the laces of your dress as Elina slobbered down it.

“Because I see you are reformed like the queen but I wonder, where is your sense of vengeance?”

You were quiet as you fixed your dress and lifted Elina above the scarf to pat her back. Soon she would no longer take the nipple and you were stubborn to keep it up for so long but the time passed and the thought of separation frightened you. Soon she would be old enough to realise how odd everything was and she would ask questions. You weren’t sure if you could ever answer them.

“Take her please,” you held her out and he came to lift her. He set her down on her feet instead and held her hand as she took some steps. She grew more bold by the minute. He bent as he ushered her around. You planted your cane in the ground and stood, “vengeance,” you said carefully, “I remember you warned me not to trust you, is that why? Are you ready to use me against him?”

“I always knew you were clever,” he smiled as Elina bent her legs and bounced in place. He chuckled at her and suddenly scooped her up. He tossed her and caught her as she trilled in excitement, “the time comes closer but the path is not clearer.”

You watched him as he stilled your daughter and balanced her against his side, “I don’t know if I can ever face him again,” you confessed.

“That is not what I ask,” he said, “it is not what I intend but...the winds begin to blow and I must let them carry me.”

You followed him as he set off towards the castle, The Tower Zemo, a bastion of brick among the grasslands. It was so tall one could see for miles in any direction and it could be seen in turn from just as far. He was patient as your cane plunked down after each step and he made silly faces at Elina.

“You have bided me longer than I expected. And her,” you said as you approached the open doors of the castle. The stairs were another task but you’d learned to take them with your hip.

“Her? You think I forsake her her father? She is nothing like him,” he replied as he waited at the tip of the steps, “and she is all the good parts of you. All that he didn’t take.”

“I am indebted to you, I am aware of that, but you do not attempt to collect your dues,” you challenged as you came level to him, “it makes me wary.”

“Would it be too… ridiculous to say that she is payment enough,” he smiled at your daughter, “she has brightened many of my days here.”

“It is because I know how things are. How it works among you noblemen,” you countered, “there is something more you want.”

“Tess,” he called and the pudgy maid appeared, “she is hungry, see that she is fed before she is laid down.”

“My lord,” Tess took the child eagerly and poked her nose playfully, “come here, little poppy.”

You watched her go as she began to sing to Elina. Her voice carried through the corridors as her wide hips swayed and her white hair wisped from under her cap. The old woman had seen your daughter into the world and since helped keep her there.

“So what is it you haven’t told me?” you turned on Zemo.

“Wouldn’t you like to sit?” he asked slyly.

“You are welcome to recline, sir, but I would hear you now. I’ve waited long enough,” you insisted.

“Well…” he took a deep breath and walked ahead of you. He turned back and clapped his hand together as the summer flowed in through the open doors, “I must send you away.”

“Send me away?” you gulped and looked to the door which Tess had just taken your daughter through.

“You will have Elina, I am not heartless,” he said, “though I will miss the little baroness.”

“Where are we going?” you quivered in relief.

“I have a castle on the lake, Heinrich’s Creek,” he explained, “it is a lovely little place. My mother’s favourite of my family’s holds. It is far away from court, further than this, and safe. Only my blood knows where it lies and… so only me and those who I would have escort you.”

“And why? Why do we have to go? Why now?” you prodded.

“I have received a letter from your King Samuel, co-signed by my own king. A party is on the road already and I have been once more tasked with hosting the negotiations. Your people are persistent. They will come here and I will represent the kingdom in these meetings and hopefully I can appease them quick enough that I needn’t worry about them sniffing around,” Zemo bristled, “I have not been allowed the privilege to know of who I host but any in the capital for the tournament, they would know the woman who gave them such a violent finale.”

“And after?”

“We will see how it unfolds first. It will be a chance to gain a measure of the climate. I might even hear after your former keeper, then I will decide what needs be done,” his dark eyes narrowed as mischief ticked in his cheek.

“Why?” you asked, “why cling to it?”

“I am as stubborn as he,” he said carefully, “I was willing to set it aside but he could not. And, my lady, if you haven’t the fire left for your vengeance then I can simply take it upon my own wrath.

“Perhaps it is low of me but how he treated me, how he chased me out even if it did prove convenient to my deceit, it cannot be forgotten. And your people, the war I fought against them, they come to us for help and yet they still boast of their victory. I was there, no one won those battles.”

“So it is all a game of war?”

“Oh, no, I do not long for another war but… retribution leaves few options for the wronged,” he said.

You lowered your chin and moved around him. You sat on the stool by the wall and leaned back against the stone. “And if it put Elina in danger?”

“That is the last thing I want to do. That is why I would send you away.”

“But you said it yourself, you will have need for me… what then?”

He sniffed and his sole scuffed on the floor, “I promised you Elina’s safety, her life. You knew yours wasn’t part of the bargain.”

“I know but… if you--”

“I have friends who can see to the girl. I have made arrangements for the little baroness.”

“But--”

“It was never a title I gave her lightly,” he intoned, “she has noble blood and I have no heir. She will grow, she will live, she will flourish.”

You gripped your cane tightly and ran your nails along your skirt, “when do we leave?”

“Within the month. The party will not be here so soon, their progress will be hampered by the heat. There are droughts in the west.”

“And we will be safe at the Creek?”

“Impenetrable,” he assured, “enjoy your time there with your daughter.”

“While it lasts, right?” you uttered.

He looked away grimly and brushed his knuckles against this beard, “we both knew this wouldn’t go on forever.”

“Yes, we knew,” you stood and held your hip, “but you can’t blame me for hoping it would.”

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader part 3

A/N: Part 3 is here you beautiful people! Sorry it this is long! I will be working on part 4 soon! And if there’s anyone who wants to be a part of the tag list, let me know so I can make a list. Thanks lovelies! 😊💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warnings: Language. Violence and gore. Brief mentions of past abuse. Horror elements.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

It wasn’t long after till you arrived to your home with Harper. It was a gorgeous Victorian style manor that you fell in love with right when you laid your eyes on it. The way it loomed over when you looked up at it, to the dark brooding trees with twisted branches that resembled gnarly hands that seemed to lunge at you, down to the immaculate details that you couldn’t help but admire that covered the house. It reminded you of a life you once lived. When you were a child, your mother would tell you stories of how old houses, these old and beautiful things, in time, would somewhat become a living thing. She’d mention how they had bones and skin, were able to feel and breathe, and how they have seen many things. That phrase always used to spook you as a child. You used to think that your house was always watching you wherever you went. But now, you believe that if you took care of your home, “this living thing”, it would in turn take care of you, and become your safe haven.

You opened the door to your home and inhaled deeply, taking in the interior and the evocative scent that you managed to surround your place with. You loved to lay candles and incense about, filling your home with notes like pumpkin, sandalwood, dragon’s blood, musk, almonds, cinnamon, frankincense, and roses. It always made you feel more at home.

“Maleficent!” You called out as you took your shoes off as Harper did the same.

You saw movement in the far corner, seeing a small blur of black fur before you feel it rub against your legs.

“Hi Maleficent.” You cooed as you picked up your black cat with your gloved hands and held her to your chest, smiling with your eyes closed in content as she nuzzled against your scarf covered neck.

Maleficent let out a little mew as she stared up at you with those adorable big bright green eyes of hers, her purring vibrating through her chest as her abnormally large fangs poked out of her mouth. Times like these were sweet but heartbreaking. You loved Maleficent with all your being but you could never truly pet her. Thus your curse.

Harper geeeted Maleficent as well while she was still cuddled in your arms as you went into the living room, walking up to the large metal birdcage to greet your familiar, a Raven.

“Hi Edgar.”

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” He squawked as he stared at you with those mischievous black beady eyes.

“Oh please behave yourself Edgar.” You rolled your eyes before handing him a treat.

“I don’t need your assistance human.”

“Oh?” You raised your brow. “I don’t remember you sprouting a pair of arms to help yourself, unless, if I’m mistaken, your wings can magically turn into hands.”

“Well if I wasn’t stuck in this form I would be able to do as I wish, but woe is me.”

“I can’t believe you have a stupid bird as a familiar. Wish you got something cooler instead.” Harper rolls her eyes at Edgar as she passes by on her way to drop her things in her room.

“How dare you.” Edgar held his head high. “I am not just any bird. I am a great poet! A writer!”

My goodness, the drama on this bird. You had only met Edgar Allan Poe once, but now it looks as if the fame had got into his head.

“Harper! Make sure to do your homework.” You turn to call after her, only to hear her mimic your English accent.

“Did you just mock me?” You asked with a scoff.

“..........no?”

Maleficent hissed at Edgar, which made him spread his wings and squawk in threat. “Get that thing away from me!”

“Maleficent is harmless.” You rolled your eyes as you set her down. “Besides, it’s not as if she’s going to tear through your cage.”

“I get no respect around here.” Edgar let out a little huff before turning away from you, obviously giving you the silent treatment.

I swear to god this raven is the biggest brat.

“Suit yourself.” You shake your head before making your way to the kitchen to see Melanie preparing a meal.

“Smells delicious.” You tell her as you stand next to her. “Is that vegetarian shepherds pie?”

“It is! I know how much you like those.” Melanie smiles at you, before turning back to her food and gesturing to the the little strawberry tarts.“Et voici, tarte aux fraises. I hope they’re as good as the ones mama makes.”

“They look absolutely wonderful Melanie. And I bet they taste just as great as your mother’s.” You squeeze Melanie’s shoulder before you call out to your sister as you set the table. “Harper! Dinner!”

“Alright! I’m coming!” She shouts back at you, making you smile and shake your head.

“So I’m guessing you’re fine?” Melanie eyes you while finishing up her dish.

“I took care of it. I’m much better now, thanks.”

“And what about him? What about Jasper?”

“Jasper?” You look up at her, feeling that same tightness in your chest from the mere mention of him.

“Mon amie.” Melanie rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “I’m not stupid. I know how much he meant to you. I just want to make sure you’re okay, you know, after seeing him when it’s been so many years.”

“I was just, shocked, if anything. I never expected to come across him again.” You look down at your hands, playing with the loose threads on the sleeves of your sweater. “But, he doesn’t remember me, so I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“If you say so.” Melanie sighed, she knew you weren’t okay, and she knew how much his presence ate at you. But she didn’t want to pressure you into focusing on this subject.

The dinner that Melanie made that night was delicious, the perks of having a best friend that was French and a kitchen witch. You had to remind Harper not to scarf down her food so she wouldn’t choke, only to receive a glare, as always. After dinner you and Harper retired to your rooms while Melanie went back to her little cottage that she preferred to stay in that was right next door to your manor. Maleficent decided to sleep with Harper that night. You were already changed out of your clothes and into your long white nightgown, cuddling into your blanket to do your nightly reading of classic literature before crashing out from exhaustion.

The night was dark and foreboding, and the skies were pitch black like the ink of a pen, and the air was crisp as the wind blew sharply through the trees. The thick clouds blanketed the sky, concealing the stars of their beauty and stripping away any form of light besides the moon. It was a full moon that night. And despite the stormy clouds that desperately tried to overpower the moon, the moon still managed to cast some light, illuminating part of your bedroom in this haunting glow. You were lying in your bed, buried beneath your blanket in a deep sleep with the windows slightly down to let in the cool breeze. You had a few candles lit to add some light to your darkened room, when suddenly, your clock struck 3. The wind came to a stop, and your room became disturbingly still. Not a moment later the candles in your room strangely went out all at once, leaving you in complete darkness. There wasn’t the slightest sound, not even the hooting of an owl, nor the sound of a leaf falling to the ground. Everything was as silent as the grave.

Then, as if on schedule, the temperature in your room dropped drastically, and you shivered, clutching your blanket closer to you. Still in a state of deep sleep, you began to have a nightmare. You remember seeing yourself in a beautiful wedding dress. You were waiting for someone, but no one came. The scene slowly shifted around you, then all you could see was fire, this bright and threatening fire. You looked around but the flames were the only things you saw, it completely obscured your vision. The flames seemed to surround you, enveloping you in this smoldering heat. You felt yourself sweat profusely while desperately choking for air, but to no avail, the smoke burned your lungs, you couldn’t breathe. And then there it was, that horrifying noise. That blood curdling scream of a woman in pain. It was your own. Your agonizing screams pierced your ears and the stench of burning flesh stung your nose. It was your own. You looked down in horror to see the flames licking at your flesh, leaving behind these gruesome wounds. You were being burned. Your screams never ceased to stop, but they were muffled by the chants of others. You tried to cry out for help, but no one came. No one cared. You couldn’t even see the faces of the voices. You could only hear those chants, over and over again. It was only a nightmare. And yet, the pain felt real. It all felt too real.

You woke up abruptly from your nightmare. It felt as if your whole body was set on fire in this excruciating pain. You were drenched in sweat resulting to your hair being matted to your face. You tried gasping for air, you tried to scream. But no sound came out. You tried to move but you stayed frozen to your bed, you could only move your eyes. Your eyes shifted frantically around your room and widened in horror at what they saw. You saw your mother in the corner as she stared at you with these white, dead, lifeless eyes. A rope was tied around her bruised neck which was bent at an unnatural angle. Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to cry out for help but you couldn’t, the only sound that came out was a whimper as you watched her walk towards you, wailing your name. Tears pooled in your eyes and fell down the sides of your face as the furniture in your room started to shake. You then saw your father appear before you, those cold and calculating eyes stared back into yours. You had his eyes, those cold heartless eyes, and that sinister gaze that terrified you as a child become your own. You watched as your father’s cloaked figure brought out his hands, displaying a whip in one and a heated branding iron in the other.

“(Y/N!) You insolent child!” He boomed in his raucous tone that made you tremble with fear. Bloody boils began to appear on his skin, gradually turning into decay as pieces of his flesh began to fall off, one by one, revealing the bone underneath. “Look at what you’ve done to me! You demon! You bitch!”

You shut your eyes against the terrifying image, your breathing growing more rapid by the minute. He wasn’t real. He died many years ago. He can’t hurt you. And yet, the pain that you now felt said otherwise. The long slashed scars that covered your back and the brand on the left side of your chest still burned as if they had just been inflicted.

There was a knock on your bedroom door, making you open your eyes back up.

“(Y/N?)” you heard Harper’s muffled voice on the other side. “What’s going on?”

She tried to open the door, but couldn’t. The door was locked. You tried to cry out for her, but you couldn’t. You still remained frozen. Your parents had disappeared, but now another ghostly figure stood at the foot of your bed. It was you. You saw yourself standing at the foot of your bed, wearing that same wedding dress from your dream with your face barely hidden behind the white veil.

You heard Harper call out for you again, struggling with the door handle, but your eyes remained glued to the apparition of yourself.

“We deserved this. We are monsters.” The face of this manifestation of yourself was blank and conveying no emotion, yet it was filled with such heartbreak and pain. You saw yourself erupt into flames, the veil burning away to reveal your scarred face as it reached a skeletal hand out towards you. “He could never love a thing like you. No one can.”

Tag List: @shakespeareanbooty @justine-en @5sosfanforever2001 @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @holyhumorliteraturelight @toomanybandstocare @twilight-kpop @cricketlicket @ashdab2611 @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @seraphpheonix @bella-stenbakken

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x you #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock imagine #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper hale x reader

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Ok, so here it is!! I would have post it yesterday but unfortunately I lost 3000 words and had to rewrite. I love the friends to lovers trope and I think that INTHAF is unbelievably underrated, so I wrote this!! There is a smut part that I had to cut out, but I promise that I will post it separately later! (It was getting too long). Anyways, enjoy!!

October 2000

Aelin Galathynius had a terrible temper.

Her mother Evalin, since she was only a baby, used to announce to everyone that he had gotten her father’s temper. Unfortunately, her father Rhoe would add, she has got her mother’s impulsivity. Her uncle would then finalize it by saying it was a terrible combination.

And it was.

She could still remember the first day of grade 3. She was only eight, the youngest of her class filled with nine year olds, and had to promise her dad that she wouldn’t get into an argument or fight with anyone during the school hours. Later that day, when she and another boy arrived all sweaty at home, she would tell her dad that she obeyed.

Technically, she got into a fight after school hours.

Everything was fine during the day, to be honest. Aelin was excited to be a third grader, and her cousin and best friend were in the same room as she was. Aelin had no problem staying calm throughout the day as she stuck to Aedion and Lysandra. They had their classes, lunch, some more classes and Aelin was ready to walk home and tell her dad how well behaved she had been.

Until she saw the new student.

To be honest, Aelin hadn’t found him interesting enough to talk to during the day. The only thing that actually caught her attention about him was the silver hair, but he was so quiet, brooding and aloof that not even his hair made him seem interesting enough to Aelin go talk to him. She would have gladly lived the rest of her life not talking to him, but as she was walking home after the school bell rang and saw some of the kids in the fifth grade picking on him, Aelin felt curious enough to approach just a little to know what was happening.

Only to listen and watch. Stay out of it. You promised dad you would stay out of fights.

She was resolute on that up until the moment she actually managed to hear what the other boys were saying.

“Is it true you don’t talk because your accent is so strong no one would even understand you?” Hamel asked, but there was no childish ignorance in his tone. He knew what he was doing.

“I hear you and your father had to run from your country because he killed your mom.” One of the boys, Archer, was saying. “Are you a freak like your dad?”

The silver boy’s cheeks turned red, and he tried to walk faster through the snow. It was only fall, but snow usually came early to Orynth.

“Are you mad your dad killed your mom?” Archer pressed, and before she could even control herself, Aelin was walking in their direction.

“You guys are idiots.” She announced, getting the attention of the three boys. Archer rolled his eyes, but Sam just stared at her. Aelin ignored both, turning to the new student. “He’s not a freak, and he talks. I heard it before.”

It was a blatant lie, but the boy just nodded, some red leaving his cheeks.

Aelin crossed her arms, staring at Archer. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Archer imitated her pose, mimicking her voice.

Aelin felt that very bad temper stirring.

“Yes.” She said, matter-of-factly. “Because you look stupid, sound stupid and act stupid. No one wants to be friend with a stupid… asshole.” She said, putting in the last word and hoping that she was using in the right context. To be honest, she had heard her dad say it a few times but had no idea what it meant.

By the red now on Archer’s face, she had used it correctly.

“You little…” Archer started saying, coming on her. Thinking about it in the years after the event, Aelin would admit she could have handled the situation better, but at that time she had been only eight, almost nine, and a boy three years older was coming on her direction.

And so she let her mother’s impulsivity take over.

And so when Archer was close enough, she kicked him between the legs and ran like hell.

She could hear Archer’s grunt as she turned around, picked the new boy by the elbow and forced him to run with her. She immediately knew it had been a bad idea, and it would only cause Archer to pick on both of them for the rest of their school years, but she could worry about that later.

“You have to run.” Aelin grunted, pulling the silver haired boy with her. He hesitated for a second before gripping her hand and running with her. For the next four minutes, both ran all around the neighborhood, Sam’s steps not too far after them. Aelin hoped Archer was in enough pain to not come after them.

Despite the snow and the cold, Aelin felt sweat going down her back. She should have already been home, and as they ran, they just got further and further away from it. The new boy was breathing just as hard as she was, and they were too young at the time to be able to run much longer.

Suddenly, he pulled Aelin by the hand. The boy forced them out of the Main Street, taking a little path through the woods nearby. He ran a little bit more before arriving at a huge trunk. Breathing hard, he pulled a part of the wood away from the tree, revealing an empty inside. Without being told to do so, Aelin rushed inside, feeling her back pressed against the inside of the truck when the boy got in too.

They tried to remain silent as they heard Sam steps approaching. As in synchrony, they both let out their breaths as they heard Sam’s steps going away. The two kids waited an extra minute before leaving the inside of the trunk.

“Oh, I think I lost one of my gloves while we ran. Mom is gonna kill me.” Aelin turned to be boy, looking him up and down and then the empty tree. “That’s nice. You found it during the summer?”

He nodded.

“Ok…” Aelin said, somewhat uncomfortable. “Do you talk?”

He just nodded again.

Aelin felt her temper rising once more, and she crossed her arms, frowning at him. “Well, can you tell me your name then?”

The boy just stared at her in silence. He took a step forward, taking something out of his pocket and handing it to her. Aelin examined the black glove. It was like hers, even though a little bit larger, but she thought it would be enough to convince her mom that she had just swapped it with someone rather than have lost it.

“Well, thank you.” Aelin said, pocketing the glove. She stared him up and down again, shrugging to herself as she continued. “Wanna hang out? My cousin and best friend can’t go to my house today. Playing video game alone is boring.”

He immediately nodded, taking another step forward. Aelin turned around, starting to walk in her house’s direction. From the corner of her eye, she kept trying to analyze the boy. He didn’t seem like a shy person, so maybe he just didn’t like to talk?

“You know,” Aelin started, unable to withstand the silence. “You don’t have to talk. I can talk enough for both of us. But it would be nice to know your name. And where you’re from. I mean, I guess I would ask you some normal stuff but you don’t talk. I mean, you talk but don’t, right? You chose not to talk? I don’t think I’d be able to stop talking, it sounds boring. How do you ask for things? Oh my gods, what about when you need to go to the bathroom? Do you talk then? Why did you stop talking?”

Aelin stopped for a second when she saw the boy staring at her wide eyed. She blushed a little, realizing that she had babbled. Her dad would always laugh whenever she did that, and while Aelin didn’t mind it with her family, she didn’t know if this stranger minded her talking so much.

“Sorry.” She said. This time, when she started talking, she tried to go slower. “You know, if what Sam said was true and you do have an accent, I wouldn’t mind. I mean, I can learn to understand you. But if you don’t want to ever talk, I wouldn’t mind either. Did you have to learn to understand me? If you did, was it hard? Do you think we speak funny? How old were you when you came here?”

“My name is Rowan.” The boy— Rowan— said. He did have a strong accent, but Aelin found it rather nice how he pulled his Rs.

“You talk!” Aelin said animatedly. “Thank the gods. I mean, I could talk for both of us but talking alone is kinda strange. I think I would get used to it, though. Oh, or we could talk through notes!”

Rowan smiled a little at that, nodding. “I do believe you could talk for both of us. And it was strange to see how you all talked, but it’s normal now. I came when I was eight, but I’m nine now.”

Aelin nodded as if she understood even though she had never really interacted with that many people that spoke differently from her. Until now, at least. “That’s nice. Do you only talk to a few people? How do you communicate with people who you don’t like talking to? I have a cousin in Perranth who is mute, so the whole family knows how to use sign language to interact. If you prefer to use sign language, we can. Do you know sign language?”

“Aye, you talk.” Rowan said, but he didn’t make it sound mean. Actually, the smile on his face had widened. “I do not know sign language. I’m just really quiet around most people. If I ever need something I can ask, but normally I prefer not to.”

“Who do you talk to?”

“My dad. My cousins.” Rowan thought a little. “My friends back at home.”

“And now me.” Aelin said, as smug as an eight year old could be. “I’m the only person you talk here? Does that make me your best friend friend?”

Rowan blushed, looking down as they approached Aelin’s home. “You want to?”

“Of course.” Aelin said, frowning again. “Why else would I have invited you to hang out?”

“I—“

Rowan was interrupted by Aelin’s mom coming outside, scolding at her daughter. She took in the sweaty face, the clothes dirty because of the inside of the three and shook her head. “Not even a day, Aelin?”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Her mom sighed. “It never is.”

“Ask Rowan!” She said, turning to him and narrowing her eyes. “Was it my fault?”

He shook his head, looking at Aelin’s mom. She raised an eyebrow at him, looking between the two kids.

“This is Rowan. He doesn’t talk to anyone here but me.” Aelin put her hands on her hips, smiling at her mom. “I’m his best friend.”

Evalin took in Rowan’s similar appearance, sighing again. “Gods help me.”

Aelin turned to Rowan, a smile on her face, whispering. “She likes you.”

He chuckled, smiling shyly at Evalin. She looked at him for a few seconds before giving a warm smile back. “I don’t know if that smile of yours means that you’ll keep Aelin out of trouble, if you’ll get into trouble with her or if you’ll be the person taking her out of trouble.”

“It’s Aelin. She’ll corrupt him for the second option.” Her dad said, coming from inside the house. He eyed Aelin and Rowan, a smile on his lips. “Let me guess, not your fault.”

“It wasn’t!”

Rhoe simply raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Never is, jellybean. It never is.”

Aelin crossed her arms, stomping into the house. She stopped a few steps inside, turning around to see that Rowan hadn’t moved a step. She sighed, imitating her parents. “Rowan, what are you waiting for?”

He looked at Aelin’s parents for a second before rushing into her house. He stopped near her, whispering so silently that only she could hear. “Can I call my dad?”

“Can he call his dad?” Aelin said, staring up at her parents. They looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Rhoe handed Aelin the phone, but she didn’t do anything with it. Instead, she just kept staring at her parents. “He only talks to me! You can’t be here!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Rhoe said, raising his hands. Her parents left for the living room, and only then Rowan called his dad. It was quick— Rowan let his dad know where he was and, surprisingly, discovered that his dad worked with Aelin’s mom.

“Thank you.” Rowan said, handing back the phone.

“It’s ok.” Aelin took it, running to the living room and giving it back to her father. “We will play video game. Do not go there! I’ll talk to Rowan and you can’t hear him talking.”

“Ok…” Her father said, but it sounded more like a question.

Aelin glared at him for a second more before turning around and going back to Rowan. She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him to the TV room.

“What just happened?” Rhoe asked baffled.

Evalin, however, was sitting relaxedly on the sofa, a newspaper in her hands and a soft smile on her lips. “Your daughter found a new best friend. He doesn’t talk around strangers. Gods, man, it’s not that hard.”

———————

December 2003

“Ro. Ro. Ro!” Aelin tried whispering. “Rowan!”

Rowan turned to her from his seat, eyes wide as if to say “What?”.

Aelin merely smiled, handing him a note over his shoulder. Although years had passed since they became friends and Rowan was more comfortable around Aelin, he still preferred to not talk too much around other people. He was always polite and quiet, and Aelin honestly didn’t mind his silence in public. They had other ways to communicate. Because Aelin was so close to Aedion, her cousin and Rowan became friends with time. The same happened to Lysandra and, since all three of them had learned sign language since they were little because of Elide, the three of them taught Rowan how to use it too.

Most times, however, they just shared notes. Aelin would always walk with paper in her pocket, and Rowan usually had a pen. They used sign language in more formal occasions, usually when her parents or his dad would tell them that bluntly sharing notes on the table while ignoring everyone else was impolite.

Rowan passed the note back, and Aelin smiled.

I can’t believe The Return of the King is out today. R u ready, Legolas?

Rowan’s terrible handwriting was right below hers. U only talked about this for six months. Ofc I am. And stop calling me Legolas.

Aelin eyed the teacher as she wrote a response, making sure that they weren’t calling any attention. It wouldn’t be the first time they got caught passing notes, and most times teachers weren’t really happy about Rowan and Aelin talking about The Mummy or The Goonies or anything else rather than learning math.

She passed the note to him, getting a response seconds later.

U love that I have nicknames for u. Shows the beauty in our friendship, Legolas. N Gods, u need to work on ur handwriting

U r a pain in the ass

Aelin was trying very hard not to smile, and was about to write another response when the teacher’s voice rang through the room.

“Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn!” They both snapped their head up at the same time, and from the corner of her eye she saw Aedion trying to contain his laughter. “Again? I don’t understand how they let the two of you stay in the same classroom.”

Aelin heard Aedion snickering, and Lysandra too if the fake cough was any indication.

“The two of you are the bane of any teacher’s existence!”

“We don’t even talk out loud!”

“Galathynius!”

Aelin saw Rowan raising a fist to his mouth, faking a cough just like Lysandra had to hide his smile.

“The two of you are to stay after school today. If you’re so eager to play with paper during class, you can help me organize some files.”

Both Aelin and Rowan groaned, and Aelin was probably going to argue more had the teacher not turned back to the board. She continued the lesson as if nothing had happened.

It took less than a minute for Aelin to scribble something on the piece of paper, passing it to Rowan. When he saw the note, he shook his head in exasperation, but took it nonetheless. This time, when passing it back and forth, Rowan and Aelin were more careful to not call attention.

Can u believe it??? We r not even interrupting her

U don’t learn, do u?

Stop complaining. U r passing the not back to me. This is a group effort

Whatever u say, G.

Every time u play the bigger person in the friendship I want to shove my fist in ur mouth

“Oh, Gods, I can’t believe it! Seriously?” The teacher shouted again, staring at both of them.

Aelin tried to give an apologetic smile as Rowan closed his eyes and groaned.

—————————

November 2009

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Galathynius.” Rowan said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing an apple. “How are you two doing today?”

“I’m ok, sweetie. You?” Evalin asked, a maternal smile on her lips.

“Aelin is not home.” Rhoe said, looking up from his newspaper.

Rowan smirked. “I know.”

“I’m gonna start making you pay rent, boy.”

“Will you believe if I told you my dad said the same about Ace?” Rowan mused, taking a bite from his apple.

“I miss when you didn’t talk to us.” Rhoe said, turning to Evalin. “Don’t you miss when he didn’t talk to us?”

Evalin hit her husband on the shoulder. “You adore Rowan, stop being grumpy.”

“Yeah, you adore me, stop being grumpy.” Rowan’s smirk only widened as Rhoe’s eyes narrowed.

“My daughter’s arrogance is rubbing off on you.”

“If you can deal with Ace, you can deal with me.” Rowan replied. He motioned to the stairs, walking backwards as he still talked to Rhoe. “Now if you’ll excuse me, your daughter asked me to water her plants.”

“And then you leave.” Rhoe grunted.

“And then I will have a movie marathon in here with Ace when she comes back from Lysandra.”

“I mean it about the rent.”

Rowan only grinned, winking at Rhoe. “I’ll be in your daughter’s room.”

As he went up the stairs, Rowan heard Evalin laughing at Rhoe’s curse.

Rowan had been friends with Aelin for months before her parents even heard him saying a word. In the beginning, when there were people around them, they would talk through shared notes. Since the day Aelin asked him to hang out with her, they spent most of their time together. Everyday they would go to his or her house after school, she was always around him at school and now, almost ten years later, both of them remained as united as ever. More, even. They had reached a point in their friendship that there was little to no thing that they didn’t know about each other, that they couldn’t tell each other.

She never made him feel uncomfortable, never pressured him to talk when he didn’t feel like it. Rowan had always been a quiet kid, and Aelin had found that to be more of an extra thing she liked about him rather than an impediment in their friendship. She would say he was the stoic and intelligent silence to her witty and unstoppable words.

Aelin became part of his daily routine, and so did her parents. Rhoe and Evalin had always treated him as if he was family— Evalin as the loving mom and Rhoe as the very witty dad. He had never thought he would feel so comfortable around people that weren’t his family, but the Galathynius had gotten through all his barriers during the years.

Rowan entered Aelin’s room, throwing his bag and shoes at the floor by one of her bookcases.

“You know, if Aelin wasn’t completely insane, she would be watering you.” Rowan mumbled to the plants as he watered them. While she was a messy person overall, Aelin was very methodical with some things. Her books were always organized, she had crazy rituals for random things and a very strict schedule to water her plants.

He finished watering the plants, opening the curtains to allow some sunlight in. Unceremoniously, Rowan laid on Aelin’s bed, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“Your stupid plants have been watered.” Rowan announced when she picked up the phone. He put it on speaker, setting the device down on top of his stomach. “Where are you?”

“Left Lys’s a while ago, I’m at the supermarket. Anything you want?” Aelin said mindlessly. Rowan could picture her with the phone in between her shoulder and ear, attention focused on the products in front of her rather than on him.

“Celery.”

“Ok, I’ll buy popcorn.”

“I said celery.”

“I refuse to have a movie night with you if you’re gonna eat celery. That shit is disgusting.” She complained. “Besides, you’ll make me self conscious if you’re eating celery and I’m eating a bowl of chocolate. Be a good best friend.”

Rowan huffed a laugh, resting an arm above his eyes. “I don’t like chocolate, Ace.”

“If you had told me that years ago, I would have let Archer beat the shit out of you.” Aelin huffed, throwing something in the cart. “I’ll buy your stupid celery.”

“You love me.” Rowan smiled.

“You love me.” Aelin mimicked, her voice sounding stupid. “Shut the fuck up. And take a goddamn shower if you’re gonna stay in my bed.”

Rowan didn’t even take his arm away from his eyes, didn’t even ask how she knew he was sprawled in her bed. “Also, buy vodka.”

“I don’t hate you enough to let you have celery and vodka on a Tuesday night.” Although she tried to sound impatient, Rowan could picture the smile on her face. Imagining it, Rowan smiled too. “And I mean it, buzzard. Go take a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Also go to hell.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Rowan was laughing when she ended the call abruptly. He remained laying down for a few moments before getting up, groaning. He was only half awake as he went to the bathroom, picked the stuff Aelin usually left for him under the counter and took a quick shower. It was a good thing they had grown up together, because Rowan though it was very unlikely he would ever have a friend with as much intimacy as he had with Ace. Things like showering on each other’s house, sharing beds and spending most of their time together seemed strange to Rowan when he thought about it with anyone but Aelin.

They had been through elementary school together. Had made their class selection in middle school together so they would end up in the same classes. Now, in their last year of high school, they still tried to coordinate their schedules. Rowan and Aelin were applying to the same colleges, and although they were focusing on different areas, both we’re going to law. There was no Aelin without Rowan, or Rowan without Aelin. Neither of them minded, and things were so natural that it had never been a problem.

Rowan grabbed some shorts he had left at her house during the summer and one of the shirts Aelin had stolen from him, dropping on the bed again. He promised himself he wouldn’t sleep, that he would wait for her so they could start the movies soon.

However, when Aelin arrived at home forty five minutes later, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. Rowan was asleep and, despite her absence, he had kept to his side of the bed. Aelin sighed, throwing her shoes and backpack where Rowan had thrown his. She went into the bathroom, changing from her jeans and crop top into one of Rowan’s old t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts.

Part of her wanted to wake him up. It was almost October and they had to make the Lord of the Rings marathon now, because they wouldn’t have time during the next month due to the 31 days of Halloween movies challenge they always did. And yet, Rowan seemed so tired and calm, that Aelin merely climbed up the bed and immediately fell asleep by his side. When she woke up again hours later, she noticed that it was already sunset, meaning they had slept for at least three hours.

Aelin groaned softly, rubbing her eyes and turning to face Rowan. She nudged him gently with her knee until his eyes fluttered.

“Let me sleep.”

“We’re watching Lord of the Rings. Wake your hulking ass up.” Aelin murmured.

“Sleep.” Was all Rowan replied, eyes still closed.

“Don’t you want to see Legolas?” Aelin asked, a sly smile on her mouth.

At that, Rowan opened his eyes. He glared at her, each second his glare worsening as Aelin’s smile grew.

“The joke is not funny anymore.”

“Yes, it is.” Aelin was smiling so much it hurt her cheeks.

“Is your whole personality based on acting like a bitch?”

“Yes, you should be aware of that by now.” Aelin said, sitting up. “Come on, Ro. Like old times? We make the tent over the bed and watch the movies together. I’ll make Legolas jokes and you’ll sulk pretending I’m not damn funny. We’ll probably fall asleep during the last one and wake up tomorrow to find out the tent fell on top of us during the night. Just like when we were young.”

“You are not funny.” He grunted, but also sat up. He ran his hands through his hair, and Aelin watched every movement in silence. When he finally turned to her, she smiled at him. “And the tent always fell because you’re shit at following instructions and always set it up wrong.”

“I’m hilarious.”

“Nope.”

“You’re boring, I’m funny. It’s the very essence of our friendship.”

“No, I’m a prick and you’re an asshole. That’s the essence of our friendship.” He smirked a little at that, and Aelin narrowed her eyes.

“Remind again me why we are friends.” Aelin said sarcastically, getting up from the bed.

Rowan simply laid back, arms behind his head. “You kicked someones’s balls for me when we were eight. Always had a terrible temper.”

“My temper always helped your sorry ass.” Aelin came back from her closet with the tent sheets. “Little Rowan couldn’t throw a punch.”

“See?” Despite what Aelin was saying, Rowan grinned. “A fucking asshole through and through.”

As much as she tried to contain, Aelin smiled, a breathy laugh coming out. “Yea, sure. I’m an asshole. And yet you’re still here after ten years.”

Rowan’s grin became a soft smile, and he got up to help Aelin with the tent. “Of course I am. Can’t leave you all alone after a decade, can I, Ace? You wouldn’t know how to live without me.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, huffing. She looked to the other side of the bed where Rowan was standing, holding the opposite side of the tent sheet.

Aelin then smiled when he winked at her.

———

June 2012

Since Rowan and Aelin had become friends, he had to hear that he and Aelin were each other’s half. He was what kept her grounded to Earth, and she was what kept him from having an awfully boring life. They were the perfect combination for best friends— one cautious and the other one reckless. Even Aelin would sometimes joke that Rowan was the prudent part of her.

In short, in their friendship, Rowan should be the smart one when it came to these situations.

And since he obviously wasn’t this time, it only made everything worse.

“I’m so happy to see you two!” Evalin said, hugging Rowan and then Aelin. “I feel like it has been ages.”

“Only a few months, mom.” Aelin said, a huge smile on her face. As much as she loved the freedom of living without her parents, Rowan knew she missed them dearly. “Me and Ro had so much to study, otherwise we would have come earlier.”

“College is a bitch.” Rowan added, earning a smile from Evalin and a wink from Aelin.

He quickly but discreetly averted his eyes from Aelin, looking at the house he had spent most of his time since third grade. His childhood and teenage years in that house had been happy and uncomplicated, only him and his best friend.

Things seemed everything but uncomplicated now, and Rowan wanted to punch himself every time he looked at Aelin and thought that maybe, just maybe, being more than friends wouldn’t be so bad. He couldn’t remember when the feeling started, nor could he understand how it could have grown so fast. He had always loved Aelin, but this was… it was different.

For most time, he tried to keep the feelings in check. He refused to distance himself from Ace, but he wouldn’t make a move either. They had been best friends for twelve years, and he wouldn’t throw all of that away only for the shot at a relationship.

“Me, Rhoe and Viktor will go out tonight, but we can all have lunch tomorrow.” Evalin was saying, looking at Rowan. He nodded, already knowing that from when he called his dad to let him know he was back in town. Evalin looked down at Aelin who was resting her head against her mother’s shoulder. “You two can stay here and order something.”

“Yeah, that was the plan.” Aelin said, leaving her mother’s embrace. She walked up to Rowan, resting her back against his chest. He tried his best to not perceptibly tense. He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to act casual. “Ro was thinking Thai.”

Evalin nodded, pointing to the kitchen with her thumb. “Jellybean, can you help me before you two go up? It’s something with the internet and you know how bad me and your father are with technology.”

Rowan smiled, and Aelin laughed. She walked up to her mom, turning around and walking backwards as she pointed at Rowan. “Don’t break anything.”

He rolled his eyes. “I have never.”

Aelin grinned. “Yes, you have.”

“That was you.” Rowan narrowed his eyes as Aelin entered the kitchen. “You broke it and put all the fault on me.”

She laughed, winking at him before disappearing.

Rowan stared after her, both glad and disappointed she wasn’t with him anymore. They were roommates and had almost every single class together, and so they spent most of their time with one another, meaning that Rowan knew that it was a stupid reaction. He shouldn’t be glad his best friend left, and he also shouldn’t immediately miss her.

Gods, he was pathetic.

Rowan’s head snapped up when he heard a chuckle from the stairs. When his eyes landed on Rhoe staring at him, he smiled.

“What’s up, old man?”

Rhoe’s smile turned into a grin as he went down the stairs. “Any reason why you were oogling my daughter, Whitethorn?”

Rowan’s heart stopped dead inside his chest, and he had to control his urge to cough, clear his throat, fidget or just straight up run. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhoe chuckled again, tapping Rowan on the shoulder. “You and Aelin were always terrible at lying when it was about your feelings for each other. Aelin was always great at pretending she hated the world when she was mad, but it was never convincing when she used to say she hated you because she was angry at you. It was all over her face and voice that it was a lie.”

Rowan shifted on his feet, crossing his arms. His restlessness made Rhoe smile even more. “You’re getting mad. Probably the age.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshiter, boy.” He announced, walking past Rowan to the kitchen. He was almost at the door when he turned back to Rowan, eyes strangely serious. “She wouldn’t say no, you know that, right?”

Rowan didn’t answer, only adverted his gaze. It was obvious someone would notice at some point, and it made sense it was Rhoe. Aelin’s dad had spent so much time with them throughout the years that if someone was gonna pick up on a change, it would be him.

“Wouldn’t say no to what?” Aelin asked, coming out of the kitchen with her mom. She quickly hugged her dad, giving him a kiss on the cheek before walking to Rowan. “And who’s she?”

“No one.” Rowan said, not taking his eyes away from Rhoe. He only smiled, winking at Rowan before hugging his wife.

“We’re leaving.” He announced, pulling Evalin to the doors. He looked directly at Rowan when he said the next words. “Behave.”

Rowan felt his whole face heating, and he wanted to tell Rhoe to fuck off. By the smile on his face, Rowan’s expression had taken care of it.

“Twelve years and you still think you can lie to me.” Aelin crossed her arms, looking up at him.

Rowan looked right back at her, and his heart skipped a beat as always. Rowan had always known Aelin was beautiful— it had never been an opinion, but a fact. With blonde honey hair, flawless creamy skin and a mouth that always seemed to be inching towards a smirk, Aelin could have been a model. Her body was just as attractive as her face, even though Rowan made sure he was always looking somewhere else other than below her neck.

Aelin Galathynius was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And Rowan though she was also intelligent, and funny and wickedly interesting.

And he also knew that he was both very lucky and very unlucky. Lucky for having her as his best friend, unlucky for being completely in love with her.

Aelin usually wore heels, heeled boots or shoes that made her seem taller. Now, as she had discarded her shoes somewhere, she barely reached his chin. If Rowan ever had a death wish, he would tell her how adorable and non threatening she looked from his point of view.

“I have to keep trying, isn’t that right?” He grinned at her. She groaned, brushing past him. She started going upstairs, not turning around to see if he was following her.

Naturally, he was.

“Want to play twenty questions?”

“No.” Rowan answered, throwing himself at her bed.

Aelin crossed her arms, frowning down at him as she sat on the bed. “Stop being a little bitch.”

“The game is pointless. I know everything about you and you know everything about me.” Rowan noted, putting his arms in the back of his head. “What the fuck would you even ask?”

“What’s your favorite color?” Aelin asked, a grin on her face.

Rowan snorted.

“It’s ok, I know the answer. It’s me.”

“You?” He raised an eyebrow.

Aelin smirked, pushing herself to sit down closer to Rowan. Her hips were touching his waist, and Rowan was trying very hard to concentrate. “I’m your favorite everything, buzzard.”

Rowan merely laughed, not commenting on how right she was.

“Your turn.”

He rolled his eyes, but asked nonetheless. “You’ve been stressed out lately?” He smiled when Aelin groaned. She had spent the whole drive from the university to the house complaining about how stressful classes were and that she was about to drop everything and try to marry rich. “Yeah, me too.”

They were just making questions that they already knew the answer, exactly like Rowan had said.

Aelin raised her eyebrows suggestively, wiggling her shoulders. “Are you a virgin?”

Rowan choked on a laugh. He knew Aelin knew he wasn’t. “Yes, and I actually plan on dying one. College is already fucking me enough for a lifetime.”

Aelin guffawed, throwing her head back. Rowan smiled at her, his eyes trailing the slope of her neck. When she looked back at him, Rowan wasn’t so reluctant to keep playing this game if it meant Aelin would keep laughing. “Do you ever regret dating Cortland?”

Aelin groaned, and Rowan smiled. “Exes are prohibited here.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Stop smiling.”

“He was a bitch. I wanted to punch him whenever he went out with us.”

“Careful, Whitethorn,” Aelin mused with a grin. “Or you’ll start sounding jealous.”

Rowan scoffed. “Just ask your next question.”

“If you could take me anywhere in time, where would we go?”

Rowan stayed in silence for a few seconds before replying. “1999.”

Aelin’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I would have liked for you to meet my mom.”

Aelin felt her whole body constricting and warming at the same time. Through some nerve, she grabbed Rowan’s hand, sweeping her thumb gently on top of his knuckles. “I would have loved to meet her.”

Rowan very rarely talked about his mom, and Aelin knew him enough to know she shouldn’t push the conversation. In the twelve years they had been friends, Rowan only occasionally would talk about his mother. Aelin had so many questions about how she was, what their relationship had been like, but she also loved Rowan more than she was curious, so she never asked if h didn’t provide the information himself.

Rowan smiled up at Aelin, and it was filled with so much love and mourning that Aelin felt her heart skipping a beat. “You would have loved her. She was your type of person.”

Aelin smiled softly at him. Without thinking any further, she laid down in bed, resting her head on Rowan’s chest and their joint hands on top of his stomach. Rowan’s free hand started massaging her scalp, and Aelin closed her eyes as she breathed Rowan’s scent in.

“Do you think she would have liked me?”

“Oh, yes.” Aelin could hear the smile on his voice. “She would have loved you. You are exactly the type of person she wanted me to be close to. She always said I was too cautious, too calm. I needed some recklessness in my life, and since I mostly refused to go out during myself childhood and be reckless by myself, my mom thought that having a friend like that would be perfect. She would have adored your personality, and how important you were in my life.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She was.” Rowan breathed.

“No wonder you turned out like this.” Aelin said and immediately felt Rowan gripping her tighter.

“Thanks, Fireheart.”

Aelin smiled, opening her eyes and looking up at him. Rowan was staring at her, and Aelin winked at him. “Whenever you need some ego boosting, Ro.”

He chuckled, still massaging her hair. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?”

“I like it here.” Aelin tried shrugging. She felt Rowan tensing, and a part of her wondered if she had said something wrong. She didn’t want to ponder on it, didn’t want to think about what it meant and how it would make her feel if it was true. Instead, she just changed the subject. “My turn. What were you and my dad talking about? And who is she?”

The question only made Rowan tense further, and Aelin raised, holding herself on her elbows as she looked down on him. “Nothing and no one.”

“Bullshit.” She spat, narrowing her eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t lie to me, Rowan.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “It’s nothing you would like to know.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

Rowan looked directly into her eyes, and Aelin resisted the urge to shift under his gaze. “Would that be something you wouldn’t like to know, Aelin?”

Aelin felt her heart beating stronger inside her chest, each beat sounding so loud that it was a wonder Rowan hadn’t heard it too. She refused to think about the question, just like for the last months she had tried ignoring every similar question when it came to Rowan.

No, she wouldn’t like to hear that. At all.

Instead of telling him that, she just shrugged. “Are you?”

“Careful, Galathynius,” Rowan repeated the same words she had said minutes ago. This time, however, there was no humor on his voice. “Or you’ll start sounding jealous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, forcing a snort out. The conversation had taken a completely different path than she had originally intended. It was enough to get on the bad side of her temper, and before she could even think about what she was saying, she raised her chin and replied. “What if I am?”

Rowan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Aelin wanted to punch herself. He stared at her in silence for what seemed to be an eternity. “Are you?”

She had fucked up, she knew that. Rowan had been the closest person to her for more than a decade, and even if she lied and said no, he would know the truth. She knew that she should have kept her mouth shut, should have dropped the subject. She had spent months trying to make sure Rowan wouldn’t even suspect that she was interested in him in a more than friendly way.

And she had fucked that up with a stupid teenager game.

There was no going back anymore, and maybe because of this Aelin felt confident enough to do what she had been aching to do for a while now.

She didn’t stop to think about how things would be after this, didn’t stop to think about what Rowan’s widening eyes meant as she brought her face down and pressed her lips against his.

Rowan was like a stone under her, and Aelin moved her lips softly on top of his. There was a voice in her head screaming at her, telling her to pull back and try to fix the friendship. She was going to do just that when she felt Rowan raising his hands, putting them on her hair as he kissed her back.

Rowan rolled on his side, one of his hands sneaking down to Aelin’s back to pull her against him. Aelin laid on the bed, one of her hand going to the back of Rowan’s head, her fingers playing with his hair.

Aelin bit Rowan’s lower lip, moaning when he opened his mouth, tongue sweeping over hers. She pressed herself against him, one of her legs intertwining with his.

“Ro.” Aelin breathed, arching her neck as Rowan kissed the expanse of her throat and collarbones. One of his hands sneaked inside her shirt, palm cupping her breast as the other one gripped her hair more tightly. Aelin ran her hands through his back, coming back through his front until she was cupping his face.

Aelin raised Rowan’s face back to her, kissing him deeper than she had before. Rowan’s tongue entered her mouth, and Aelin’s mind emptied of any thought that wasn’t about him. About his hand against her breast, fingers in her hair. All her focus was on how he was making her feel, and Aelin felt completely intoxicated by him.

Rowan put one of his legs in between Aelin’s thighs, pressing it against her middle as Aelin grinded her hips softly against him.

“Ace, do you—“ Rowan was breathing against her mouth, but was interrupted when they both heard the main door opening and voices filing in.

“I can’t believe you forgot you wallet, Rhoe!”

Aelin raised her head immediately, eyes widening when she saw the bedroom’s door open and heard her parents coming up the stairs. She rolled over Rowan, almost falling off the bed as she ran to the door and closed it louder than she intended to. She closed her eyes, putting her back against the door as she heard one set of the footsteps going in the direction of her parent’s room. The other one stopped in front of her door, and a hesitant knock sounded.

“Is everything alright, Aelin?” Her mom’s voice seemed more curious than confused.

“Yeah.” She answered, trying not to sound too breathless. “You guys are already back?”

“Dad forgot his wallet. We just came to pick it up but we are already leaving.”

“You sure you’re ok, Ae?” Her dad asked, having come back from his room.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re fine. Rowan just has a terrible habit of not closing the door after his tail enters the room.”

Aelin heard her dad and mom laughing. “Ok the, jellybean. We’re out again, we’ll see you later or in the morning.”

“Love you guys!” Aelin shouted as she heard her parents’ footsteps going down the stairs. She remained with her eyes closed until she heard the front door opening and losing again, and only then she opened them again.

Rowan was sitting on the bed, eyes stuck on her face. His cheeks were pinkish, lips swollen and hair a mess. Aelin supposed she wasn’t too much better.

They stared at each other in complete silence until Aelin cleared her throat, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Well if this isn’t a fucking surprise for both of us.”

——————

October 2016

Aelin though that the rice on the ground looked like snow.

Among the screams all around her, she could hear the church bells ringing, the soft song playing on the background.

She looked to her right, watching her newly husband grin at some of his friends from uni.

They both had wanted a small wedding, but both Rowan and Aelin’s parents insisted that they needed a big ceremony, something big enough to encompass their whole relationship.

Rowan turned to her, grin only widening as he realized she was smiling at him. “What are you looking at?”

Aelin shook her head, eyes closing when she felt Fenrys and Aedion throwing more of that rice thing on them. “Nothing.”

Rowan laughed, hugging her as they walked to their car. “Sixteen years and you still think you can lie to me, Mrs. Whitethorn.”

Aelin held Rowan’s face in her hands, kissing him deeply and lovingly before drawing back, a smile never leaving her face. “I have to keep trying, isn’t that right, babe?”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @annejulianneh111 @heirofthenightcourt @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog

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misterewrites · 3 years ago

Text

Secret Agent Bard (Welcome to the Underground!)

Hello everyone! E here with a new chapter of the underground! Woo! I hope you are all doing good and staying safe.

So I actually have more to say today! That's a trip. I’ll have an author’s note under the line.

So that's it for now. Stay safe, take care of you and your loved ones, stay out of trouble, wash your hands, wear your mask, get vaccinated if you can and push to release the vaccine world wide cuz we're all in this together. Have a great week and thanks for reading. I appreciate it and feel free to tell your friends, reblog, drop likes and feedback i love it all. Bye for now and enjoy!

If you want an easier place to read the story cuz tumblr sucks sometimes here’s a link to the chapter https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/79541746

The First Chapter: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297/chapters/68094967

and since you made it this far here’s a link to all my stories!

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

Byeeeeee!

Author’s note: Today’s work will be a little different as there will be singing. The chapter with the bard is gonna have singing? Go figure haha So if you see a sentence in Italics, that means someone is singing. Bold and italics represents various people singing as a group. The song in question is called twiddles. There's different versions of it but the one I chose is from the misbehavin maidens. Great group but all their work ranges from innuendos to straight up not safe for work so listen at your peril. I have now completed my responsible adult duties haha. here’s a link to the chosen song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iS1-_fKF5ug

Summary: Oliver has quite the task ahead of him as the group splits to achieve their goals. Leading Sel and Flora, the young bard will have to think quick on his feet to ensure this mission is a success. Luckily he's an old hand at this. Ironically the one person who could distract him may make a surprise appearance tonight.

-----

Oliver stood quietly, arms crossed and his mind thoughtful as the group prepared to go their separate ways. While ideally nothing would go wrong, that was a childish belief: Every person and robotic being here knew safety was not guaranteed in their line of work.

Even the old man knew the risks.

Oliver hated doing nothing. He thrived when he was busy, focused on whatever task required his attention whether it be being a better bard or upholding the Choir’s values. Too many ghosts and regrets lingered on the edges of his mind and he found the best solution was to simply keep occupied.

But that was his coping mechanism, not everyone else. He knew better than to rush his team: The party would last at least another few hours and beside the goal of getting Sel to the third floor, there was nothing else to do. No information to gather, nothing to review. Let them have their moment, it was good for morale.

Terri and Flora were sickeningly adorable: Hands clasped tightly with Terri tearfully asking her girlfriend to not poison everyone. Flora gave a halfhearted promise while as they shared a tender kiss. Terri noticed her less than enthused tone but refused to press the matter further.

Tyrell stood awkwardly to the side, his face twisted in a strange mixture of sick and excited. He fidgeted with something in his pocket, seeking comfort from whatever lay within. Given the shape of the bulge and size, Oliver guessed it was a knife.

Sel stood nearby, motionless in the shadows of the alley. They hadn’t moved in some time though he suspected the automaton was simply waiting for the next phase of the plan.

“Alright” Oliver spoke up, his voice firm yet gentle “Times up. You have your assignments?”

Uneven murmuring responded.

“Let’s go.”

Oliver, Sel and Flora went down one end of the alley, Terri and Tyrell disappearing in the opposite direction.

-----

It didn’t take long for the trio to find the main streets of the Merchant Ward and make their way towards the Brambleoak banking office. The crowds weren’t as thick as they had been during the day but Oliver knew everyone out and about did so with a purpose.

“Bard.” Flora asked without warning, breaking the awkward silence “Question.”

“Answer.” Oliver cheekily replied.

Flora glared.

Oliver coughed “Yes?”

“You are a First Chair Soprano correct?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet you are so young. How did you manage that? I thought First Chair ranks were only reserved for experienced or particularly skilled members. You don’t seem to be very magically powerful.”

Oliver paused for a moment, trying to best answer the question.

In a way Flora was correct in her assessment: He wasn’t particularly powerful as a spellcasting bard. Unlike Flora who clearly committed herself fully to nature and thus druidic magic, Oliver had only recently thrown himself into the magical arts.

Unless you were a wizard who studied the secrets of the universe with a very intimate and well versed knowledge of magic, most spellcasters drew their power from sources of existence: Clerics from their gods, Druids from nature, Warlocks from something beyond mortal existence yet not quite a deity, sorcerers because a family member fucked around with pure incomprehensible concepts. Magic was the fabric of the universe and the more you threw yourself into a source of power, the more the source threw itself into you, guiding your hand and your spells.

Of course each, wizards exempt, were limited in their spellcasting options. Clerics were powerful holy/unholy practitioners but couldn’t command plant life to save their lives. Druids were in tune with nature and the weather and all the lovely flora and fauna but ask them to superimpose an image onto something and they’d give you a dumbfounded look. Warlocks kinda just do whatever their sugar patrons felt like lending.

Magic bards drew their power from the arts: Drawing, singing, poetry, even witty and funny satire. Bards were in tune with life, with existence. Art could heal, could hurt, could make you feel happy and sad. It could make you feel like a whole new person or perhaps take you to a time and place you’d forgotten. Bards sung the song of life and Oliver was no exception.

However, Oliver still wasn’t sure what he could do exactly. His magical muscle was average on a good day and he could only cast a few spells before needing a good night’s rest. The basic healing spells and comprehension language he cast earlier today had taken a good chunk of his energy but he relied more on his wit than raw magical strength. He discovered creative and useful ways to cast his spells like amplifying dissonance noises to distract and disorient foes or temporarily place another person’s image over himself. Magic was as much about creativity as it was skill, pushing the limits of what you can do with your particular brand of spells.

“I’m clever.” Oliver answered honestly “The whole magic of the arts is new to me but I’ve been in the Choir for a long time now. I used to be Tenor like Sel here but more fast talking than breaking and entering. I guess they carried over my old position into my new one.”

Flora nodded, satisfied “That answers much. How long have you been a bard?”

“Few years now.” Oliver checked the street sign to ensure they were on the right path “The magic part is going on 3 years.”

“I see.” Flora scratched her chin “I’ve been a druid my whole life so it is a strange concept to be so new to the spellcasting arts yet hold such a high rank.”

Oliver gave a casual shrug “Not sure what you want me to say. We’re here by the way.”

The bank looked as unkempt as Oliver had remembered: Faded, peeling green paint with gaudy gray stone pillars. Two guards in green uniforms stood in front of the massive reddish brown doors that led into the bank.

“Lea’s mercenaries.” Sel pointed out “They are not letting anyone in.”

“Correction.” Oliver brushed off nonexistent dirt from his washed-out outfit “They’re not letting nobodies in. Luckily tonight we’re somebodies. Follow my lead.”

Oliver let out a tense breathe before strolling forward, his mannerism cocky yet unsteady. He reached the top of the steps when two sharp looking blades reached out to stop him.

“Halt” The elvish woman spoke with a hint of irritation “You lost?”

“Not at all!” Oliver beamed with a smile that was too wide to be natural “I’m here for the party. There is a party inside no?”

“No” The human man spat out.

Oliver gave a forgetful grin “Oh? I could’ve sworn Brambleoak was having some sort of charity event tonight. I’d show you my invite but I think I misplaced it.”

The elvish woman sneered “Right. How convenient for you having lost your special one of a kind invite.”

“Pfft.” Oliver scoffed “Special one of a kind invite? Reiner hands them out like candy. Probably find one in a gutter nearby.”

The guards shared an unspoken understanding with one another.

“Well.” The human began “Let’s pretend that is true.”

“It is but go on.”

The human’s eyes narrowed “Why should we let you in? You dress rather poorly for someone claiming to be in Reiner’s usual circles.”

Oliver let out an exaggerated gasp as he puffed out his chest “Do you know who I am?”

“Umm no.”

Oliver growled unhappily, his fist clenched tightly within his pocket “I am rich! I AM POWERFUL! AND I DEMAND ACCESS!”

As quick as lightning, Oliver flung a handful of gold coins towards the pair. The two reeled back in surprised as the money clanked onto the smooth marble floor. A moment hardly passed before the guards were shoving the loose coins into their tunic pockets like hungry dogs. They straightened up, eyes alive with greed.

“Of course sir” The elvish woman bowed her head in apologize “Deeply sorry for that.”

“Please go ahead.”

Oliver gave a self satisfied nod before moving past the pair only to stop as he heard the sounds of swords scraping each other. He turned backwards to see the guards barring access to Flora and Sel.

Flora looked back and forth between the guards, her eyes calculating and cold. Sel stood still but clearly at the ready for any sort of trouble.

“They’re with me.”

The Elvish woman shook her head “We said we’d let you in. These two? Definitely not Reiner’s usual prey.”

“They aren’t” Oliver admitted “But I need them.”

The human turned to him, suspicion in his eyes “Why?”

“She…” Oliver pointed lazily towards Flora “Is my street doctor.”

“Street doctor? As in….?”

Oliver gave a cheery wink “The fun kind.” And for give measure, he added a weak shiver to his act “Ugggggh I feel cold, are you cold? It’s cold.”

Before anyone could say anything, Oliver began shaking. He rubbed his hands for ‘warmth’ while swaying back and forth.

“Uh oh.” Flora spoke dully, pushing past the guards and holding Oliver steady “He’s crashing. I need to give him his umm medicine.”

“Medicine?” Oliver repeated, his voice soft yet manic “Yes medicine. I need it. I NEED IT!”

Folks began to turn their way, the guards shifting uncomfortably under the sudden attention they were receiving.

“And this one?” The Elvish woman gestured to Sel.

Oliver began to rock back and forth, his voice a harsh whisper. “Guard. Guard. Guard guard guard guard.”

The human threw up his hands in defeat “Bah! Get him in there and fixed! Any trouble and I’ll personally come over to beat your asses.”

“Thank you sir.” Flora murmured through gritted teeth. She guided Oliver and Sel through the doors and into the party within.

Flora sighed as Sel cracked the tension out of their fingers. Oliver straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow.

True to his expectations, the bank had been altered to be suitable for a charity event: Torches lined the walls, casting the building into a bright light. The desks normally found on the floor were gone as to allow a more spacious setting. Oliver counted a handful of guards scattered about, wandering about for any sign of trouble. All except for the lone guard beyond the empty elevated platform who stood in front of the stairway to the upper floors.

“What now?” Flora asked

“Split up. Sel stay close to the door, Flora and I will figure out a distraction.”

“Sounds good.”

And without another word, Oliver was swallowed whole into the crowd.

-----

It had taken an hour for Oliver to figure out what kind of distraction he would need.

The patrols themselves hadn’t been very difficult to plan for: They would move randomly about, keeping an eye on the party and each other. He counted about 6 of them total and each one of them was easily starstruck. At the sign of any disagreement, they would swarm in groups of three and quickly threaten any troublemakers into compliance. However, upon meeting anyone with even the smallest bit of fame, they would subtly motion to each other and make their way as one to the person in question, hoping for a glance or the chance for an autograph.

So the floor guards were no problem but the one standing watch over the door was much more difficult. Evidently Lea was smart enough to give the most important job to the most responsible of his idiots. The stairway guard or Stairy as Oliver labeled him, would not budge at the sign of any trouble. Loud arguments, agitated party goers, a waiter being tripped (sorry it was for science buddy). None of these would pull him from his post. Celebrities wouldn’t either. Any time his buddies motioned to a famous person, he would shrug his shoulders and stay put.

Oliver was beginning to wonder if Flora needed to poison Stairy until he noticed something about half way into his observations: Stairy was a music lover. Specifically a cute girl music lover.

His gaze would wander every time he caught sight of a pretty girl who happened to be too close to him. Oliver wasn’t sure at first so he decided to test his theory. With his pocket change lessened, Oliver noticed how often a girl would catch Stairy’s eye. His attention didn’t shift when they fell in front of him, obviously in distress, or walked slower allowing him to enjoy the view longer but Oliver caught him smiling and tapping his foot when the odd girl would sing. He even staggered away from his door a few steps at a time before catching himself and returning to his post.

So the best distraction would be a girl who could sing and have some level of fame attached to her name.

Oddly specific and Oliver hadn’t the slightest idea how he was going to mange that. He was attempting to solve this puzzle when something caught his ear.

“Get off me you mulched dirt licker!”

That rather unique set of cursing could only mean one thing: Flora.

Oliver turned to where he last spotted her and found the young druid being hassled by a tall man in an elegant uniform.

Oliver noticed the guards were looking about, not yet spotting the commutation but aware something was going on. He needed to act first if he wanted to stop Flora deciding to kill everyone in the room.

The bard quickly slipped into the crowd, darting and weaving between any and everyone he could. He saw Flora slip a small vial into her hand as the man towered over her.

“I jus wanna dance.” the man’s words slurred out of his mouth “A pretty thing like yo shou wanna dance”

Flora’s eyes narrowed angrily “For the last time you dried poop stain, LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Flora pulled back her hand, prepared to throw the mysterious vial at the drunk’s face.

“Whoa!” Oliver cried out, tightly grasping onto Flora’s wrist “What seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing I can’t solve on my own.” Flora coldly glanced towards the drunken man.

“One sec.”

Oliver eyed the man carefully, absorbing every little detail he could.

He could see the muscles strain against the fabric of his light green tunic so this man worked in something physically laborious. The sheathed sword on his belt weight seemed to throw him off balance with every step. His gaze was unsteady and Oliver could see his pupils dilating wildly.

So this man was physically fit, armed with a sword in a charity event for the rich people and wearing light green tunic while currently drunk.

“You should leave her alone” Oliver said, sarcasm dipping from each word “You are so not her type.”

“So?” The man hiccupped “What’s the big deal?”

“So she’s got a girlfriend you idiot.” Oliver gestured with his hand “Besides you should go before your boss Lea gets here. I’m betting he won’t be happy one of his undercover mercs is currently drunk on the job. Of course I could always tell your captain what’s going on. That’s him over there right?”

Oliver gestured to the closest guard making his way towards the trio. He didn’t look any different than any guards but Oliver noticed his green was a shade darker than the rest. Lea probably used different hues to signify rank in his mercenaries.

The drunk’s face paled as he fidgeted nervously. He rose his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the two “Sorry.”

“Any trouble?” The captain approached, his hand tightly held around the hilt of his blade.

Oliver beaned cheerfully, trying his best to pull attention away from the fuming Flora “Not at all my good sir. This man simply mistook us for someone else, correct?”

The drunk nodded slowly “My bad. Forgive my intrusion.”

The captain gave a cold smirk “Apologizes. Mikey?”

The drunk flinched “Yes sir?”

“A word in private. Now.”

Oliver let out a sigh of relief as the captain dragged Mikey away..

“You should’ve let me poison them.” Flora muttered darkly.

Oliver scratched the back of his neck tiredly “Night’s still young. Still might get your chance if I can’t figure a way past Stairy.”

Flora tilted her head quizzically “Stairy?”

“The asshole at the base of the stairs.” Oliver answered absentmindedly as he spotted a familiar streak of platinum blonde hair among the crowd of strangers “And I just figured it out. Can I trust you not to poison everyone here?”

“You have an hour. I get bored easily” Flora swirled the sickly purple liquid in the vial threateningly.

“You and me both.” Oliver patted her shoulder before chasing down his perfect distraction.

-----

Oliver’s heart began to thunder loudly in his ears, a nervous and uncontrollable energy overtaking his resolve. The mission was important but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see Maria today.

Maria Thoreau was the daughter of a powerful, influential family. The Thoreau’s were more concerned with their standing in high society than any virtuous endeavors and thus each one of their children was trained from birth to excel in their chosen field. Maria’s older brothers were an aspiring politician and merchant respectively.

Maria’s path was to be a well famous singer and patron of the arts. She wanted nothing more than to sing for the people. Unfortunately, her father only saw a chance to further the family’s good name and tied his desire for power with her passion and dream. It was bittersweet really but nothing much could be done about it.

Yet.

Maria knew Oliver as a musical rival who thwarted her group’s attempts at winning local competitions which in turned derailed her father’s plans. So needless to say she was less than thrilled when she caught him making his way over.

“Ollie” she forced a smile while her hazel eyes narrowed, peeved “I’m surprised to see they let you into this exclusive event.”

Oliver gave a cocky shrug “Well your beauty caught my attention and I couldn’t resist trying to figure out a way in.”

Maria’s cheeks burned a pinkish hue.

Maria was the same age as Oliver with short, tastefully cut dark brown hair. A single streak of platinum blonde hair hung off the side of her face, giving her such a cute look. Her clothes were practical tonight since she wasn’t performing: A simple white blouse with a long flowing dark blue skirt that went all the way down to her feet. Her shoes were sensible dark blue flats designed for comfort over style.

Maria coughed into her hand, willing her blush away.

“So.” She cleared her throat “Is this your sad attempt to throw me off my game? You won’t win the next competition. We’ll be dealing with professional judges this time.”

Oliver’s eyes widen in false surprise “There’s a competition here? Fancy that. I hadn’t been made aware of that but since we’re both in town, why not have a round two?”

“Oliver….”

“I mean” Oliver went on, pretending not have heard “You are a much better singer solo than with those harpies you’re forced to keep around.”

Maria glanced to the side timidly “Don’t be absurd, the Melodic Maidens are a perfect, well oiled machine.”

Oliver scoffed dismissively “I suppose they’re nearby, listening in. Hardly leave you alone, don’t they?”

Maria opened her mouth to respond when a shrilly voice cut in.

“What do you know you two bit hack? How much did you bribe the judges last time?!”

Oliver gave a strained smile as the rest of the ladies forced their way into view.

“Lilly, Filly, Sally. You suck.”

The triplets snarled in unison, openly glaring at the bard.

Lilly, Filly and Sally were Maria’s chains: They were as much there to further her career as they were to report back to daddy to ensure the errant daughter stayed on course.

As triplets, they all shared the same features: Three pairs of dull green eyes and long messy black hair. Even their clothing were the same with each wearing a strapless dress that showed way too much skin and skirts that were way too short. The only reason Oliver could tell them apart was due to their preferred colors: Lilly in a shade of pink that was bright for her skin tone, Filly with a pale ugly yellow and Sally in seas of dark red.

The trio surrounded Maria, their arms embracing her in an uncomfortable hug. Maria bit her lip, trying to hide her uneasy.

“Still wearing that tacky outfit huh Ollie?” Lilly eyed his faded clothing distastefully.

Sally let out an unfriendly laugh “Ollie always looks like trash. Not even prize money could buy an ounce of class.”

“Actually” Oliver brushed his shoulder dismissively “Class is cheap. No amount of money could buy an ounce of character. You can blow hot air at me all you want but nothing in this world could ever change the fact that the three of you are bitches.”

The trio clicked their tongues disappointingly, their normally plain faces twisted into unflattering visages of rage while they screamed as one.

“HOW DARE YOU INSULT US?!”

“YOU ARE SUCH A POOR TACTLESS MAN!”

“YOU FUCKER!”

Oliver casually waved his hand “All bark and no bite. I’m supposed believe you’ve gotten any better in two months? Last time I checked I won the last competition.”

“OH YEAH?!” The triplets yelled, furious.

Maria threw a suspicious glance Oliver’s way “Girls, I don’t think…”

“Come on Maria, we don’t want to have to tell daddy you backed down from a challenge.”

A shiver ran down her spine, the fight draining out of her face. Oliver felt a tinge of guilt but said nothing as the girls took their positions.

Maria paused for a moment, her breathing slow and calm. The murmur of the crowds grew louder and louder upon the recognition that the ladies nearby were the Melodic Maidens.

Maria pivoted on her heels, a bright warm smile gracing her lips. Oliver could feel his heart skip a beat at the sound of her soft, airy voice beginning to sing

“Oh you hear a lot of stories about the sailors and their sport” Maria gave a playful wink his way. His cheeks burned brightly at her playful banter.

“About how every sailor has a girl in every port”

Maria twirled, her steps mischievous and alluring as her dark blue dress chased after her. She gracefully held two fingers aloft for everything to see, her smirk cocky and assured.

“but if you added two and two you’d figure out right quick”

Maria backed up as the triplets step forward to join her, the group made whole and ready for the chorus.

“It’s just because the girls all have a lad on every ship”

Maria turned to throw a sultry look towards her rival bard but instead of finding a dumbstruck Oliver, she found a smiling one. His gaze was gentle and loving as if he was seeing utterly beautiful. A small smile was tugging at his cheeks. Maria could feel her heart thunder in her ears as, without warning, Oliver gave a thumbs up and mouthed an appreciative “Thanks” before ducking into the growing crowd.

“And it’s twiddley idle idle idle, twiddley idle aye.”

What was once a spattering of folks formed into a massive gathering. Most of the party goers and guards had come over to catch the free show the girls inadvertently given and thus all focus shifted onto them. What was an attempt to show up Oliver ended up being a very unnecessary showcase.

“It’s often times a man will leave you broken with dismay”

Boy was Maria feeling that dismay right now.

-----

Oliver’s plan worked: Stairy hadn’t been to resist the siren call of a beautiful woman and her singing. Luckily the harpies hadn’t ruined it with their imperfect pitches. Stairy hadn’t taken more than a few steps when Sel slipped in behind and began working at the door. It took a moment but one blink later and the automaton vanished out of sight.

Oliver let out a sigh when a hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

“Hello sir.” A guff, low voice in a less than friendly voice “Might I have a word? You’ve been acting rather strange all party long.”

Well fuck.

#Welcome to the Underground #My Story #Original Work #original story

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Serpent of Eden (Reid Series - Part 3)

~ Reader’s one-night-stand with Spencer turns into a year long semester ~

Summary: After a month of smooth sailing, Reader and Spencer finally cross paths on campus and spoiler alert - it’s not pretty. Couple: Fem!Reader x Professor Spencer Reid Category: Angst, Fluff, (eventual) Smut, Series Word Count: 1.7 (ik i promised no small chapters but this ones slightly more spicy and its in preparation for better, longer chapters) Content Warning: Age-gap, teacher student relationship A/N: POV switches from Reader to Spencer indicated by “_ _ _”

PART 2 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was easy to maintain a romantic relationship and to believe that everything was alright when we never had to see each other at school.

What’s harder was being in a professional setting and forcing ourselves to confront the reality that what we were doing was wrong.

Just plain wrong.

We must’ve lucked out in the first few weeks of our relationship because it was smooth sailing for the entire first month. We’d even gotten into a routine - found our groove, if you will.

Most often, we would meet at a place far from Hollis, where we knew we wouldn’t run into anyone who would recognize us. There we could just be (y/n) and Spencer; and there I would get lost in the good times and the bliss of the moment to the point of forgetting that we weren’t just (y/n) and Spencer - we were student and teacher, too. Other times, I’d come over to his apartment, but given my living situation, he had never come over to mine.

It was somewhere around our one-month anniversary when our luck ran out.

Holly had come into the room while I was finishing (or at least attempting to finish) reading a court case.

“Are you going to the Promotional FBI Seminar?” She slid a large pamphlet on my desk, never minding the fact that she’d just haphazardly thrown the pamphlet in the spot where my book lied, causing me to lose my place on the page. Though I didn’t outwardly display my frustration, my agitation did grow beneath the surface.

“What’s that?” I asked her, not out of sincere curiosity, but more so because I wasn’t even really listening to what she’d said before, and I’d pushed the pamphlet out of the way before I even read it.

“A couple guys from the FBI are coming to talk to us about the job, like all the requirements to be hired, how much it pays - stuff like that.”

Holly’s voice didn’t make for great background noise, especially when she started rambling while I tried to continue reading.

“Are you going?” I asked. Again, this wasn’t a sincere question, just a way to make it seem like I was listening.

“Yeah, and I really want you to come with me. I think you’d like it. You’re really into crime stuff, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah…” I said in a daze, obviously distracted by my other priorities.

“So you’ll come?”

I should note that I faintly recognized the name and premise of the seminar, but I couldn’t quite place where I remembered it from, and I was far too preoccupied to pay any further attention to the topic, so it slipped out of my mind almost as fast as it entered it.

It was this moment here where Spencer’s eidetic memory would’ve come in handy.

You see, the reason I weakly recalled the seminar was because just three days ago, Spencer had told me he was going to be a guest speaker for it. But again - I didn’t remember that, and so without any recollection of this information, I told Holly I’d go just so she’d stop bothering me about it.

Unbeknownst to me, I’d just agreed to attending my own personal hell.

I woke the next morning to Holly violently shaking me.

“(Y/n), we gotta go! We’re so fucking late!”

Still half-asleep, I mumbled, “Huh?”

“The seminar started at 9:42 and it’s 10:36 right now.”

This was enough to jolt me awake and get me out of bed.

There was just something about the pressure of being late that forced me into a mode where I could get ready in an ungodly short amount of time. I could never get ready that fast unless I was late for something, which makes no sense.

Holly and I ran from our dorm, through the courtyard, and into the classroom, somehow managing not to trip once on the way there. I was actually quite proud of that.

I couldn’t tell you if it was our breathlessness, our late departure, our struggle to find open seats, or a combination of the three, but we’d commanded the attention of the entire room - and the attention of someone I had yet to notice, too.

“There’s a free seat over there. I can sit in the one over here.” Holly told me, suggesting that if we wanted to sit anywhere, we’d have to be separated. I followed her finger to the empty seat, shuffling awkwardly and apologizing profusely to the people I disturbed by approaching. I was so caught up in the hysteria and chaos to even bother looking up at the stage, hindering my ability to meet my impending doom any sooner.

On the way to my seat, I noticed the copious amounts of notes being taken by virtually every student in the room, so rather than taking any time to look up, I was searching my bag down below me for note taking materials.

But as they say - third time's a charm.

After I’d settled into my seat, I finally looked up from the floor and it was then that I was transported back to a month ago - an eerie parallel to this exact moment.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, earning sneers from the people sitting next to me who I’d clearly disrupted with my profanity.

“Sorry,” I whispered to them, for I was truly sorry. I just couldn’t help myself. When I saw him, my stomach dropped. I had a feeling he’d already seen me, but I was too disorderly before to notice.

I did, however, notice how he eyed me from the stage, even doing a double take when we locked eyes.

“Most of us have done extensive work in areas such as …” His voice faded while my mind swirled.

We have got to stop meeting like this, Spencer.

Our eye contact was too much for me to handle, so I was the first to break away. Through the entire question-period, I kept my head down to avoid any eye contact I could.

“Well, that’s all that we have for you today. Before you go, please hand in your applications if you filled them out.” The other lecturer advised.

I was well on my way out of the room even before he dismissed us, but I was drawn back by the sound of the sentence, “Excuse me, Miss? Could you stay back for a moment?”

I briefly walked backwards before turning on my heels and meeting those eyes that I desperately didn’t want to.

“I noticed you came in late and I thought you might want to know the information you missed -” Spencer paused to look over his shoulder, noticing his colleague was attending to someone else and therefore, too engaged in that conversation to interfere with ours.

“(Y/n), what are you doing here?” He asked me in a hushed tone, a stark contrast from his sweet tone from before.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I completely forgot that you were a speaker for this seminar. I didn’t even know I was coming until last night when my roommate asked me to come with her. I would’ve warned you if I knew. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in this position.”

My apology was sincere seeing as I promised Spencer we would never run into each other. In fact, it was the sole reason we agreed to stay in this relationship - the mutual guarantee that we wouldn’t be put in these situations, but here we were.

In this fucking situation.

“No, it’s fine. I was just surprised to see you, that’s all.”

Spencer could tell I was flustered and truly apologetic for my ignorance, and he was almost about to reach out and rub my upper arm comfortingly when his actions were cut short by the looming presence of his fellow guest speaker.

“Hi there. David Rossi.” He introduced himself by extending his hand into the space between us. “And you are?”

“(Y/n) (y/l/n).”

_ _ _

“(Y/n) (y/l/n).”

It was like watching my worst nightmare come alive.

If I ever imagined introducing (y/n) to my work family, this certainly wasn’t the plan. I just hoped to God that if Rossi and (y/n) ever met again in the future, he wouldn’t suddenly obtain my eidetic memory and recall her familiar face from this exact moment.

“Got any questions for us?” Rossi coyly asked her. Once more I prayed to God that his profiling skills hadn’t just improved drastically and that he could sense the tension between the two of us. It almost seemed like he asked that question just to tease her because he knew what was really happening. But then again, that was probably just my paranoia speaking.

She looked mortified when he asked this, even glancing back at me briefly as if to ask for a reprieve. “Um, no not really. I-I was just telling Dr. Reid that I’ve applied to audit his class before, but was always rejected.”

“That’s a shame. Well, maybe I can look into that. You know, put in a good word for you.” Rossi chuckled, nudging (y/n)’s shoulder to suggest he’d help her. She only shyly laughed and took a step closer to the door.

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Nonsense. I’d be happy to do it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Rossi.” With a thankful smile, (y/n) pranced out the door, closing the lecture hall door sharply behind her without one look back.

“Nice girl,” Rossi acknowledged. “But it would be nicer if she could be on time.”

I laughed, despite not finding (y/n) to be at the butt of the joke to be funny at all.

“Um, are you actually gonna put in a good word for her?” I followed Rossi with my eyes, searching his face with a desperate hope that my question didn’t reveal too much.

“Yeah, why not? I figured you would’ve liked to have another student audit your class.”

“Yeah yeah…” I murmured in false agreement.

Herein lies the trouble.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

PART 4 COMING SOON!

comment to be added to the taglist!

taglist:

@andiebeaword @rexorangecouny @rip2myyouthjpg

#serpent of eden #spencer reid #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

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νοσταλγία (Chapter 14)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: The usual, tho I should add mentions of polygyny

A/N: Hi!! Hope you like this chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this!! Thank you so much for reading <3

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr

You catch up to Ivar near the main hall, waiting for him outside the room Prince Hvitserk told you he’d be in with your hands crossed behind your back.

He eyes you with suspicion when he sees you, but still approaches and starts walking at your side.

“You are not here to apologize.”

Why would I? You want to retort, but instead you just shake your head.

“No, but…” You shrug, “I have trusted my mother more than anyone on this world, I will trust she knew what she was doing. I’ll choose to believe maybe the Goddess she worships has a reason for this to happen.”

“So you have accepted it, you will not fight anymore.” He states, and you raise your eyebrows in response.

“If you expect to see me defeated, King Ivar, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

“I would never want that.” He replies easily, squaring his shoulders as he returns his gaze ahead, and something tells you he is telling the truth. You do not know what to do with that knowledge.

“What do you want, then?” You ask boldly, surprising even yourself, “You get nothing out of marrying me. You are a smart man; you know you might lose power by making me your wife.”

“Why?”

He knows the answer, he knows. You have an inkling he is testing to see if you do, with how much certainty you can speak of power and its intricacies.

“You could marry a woman with…land here, a princess or an heir.” You explain, but Ivar just shrugs.

“I could still do that, I could find a second wife.”

You stop dead in your tracks at the realization that he could, and sensing you stop walking Ivar turns to you, eyebrows raised and the beginning of a mocking smile on his lips.

But to a child born in the cult of Persephone, promises of unloyalty are not something to be simply accepted. You were told that the Goddess you dedicated your life to was loyal and true to her husband even if she was a victim of him; you saw many new couples at your temple there to bless them with faithfulness and prosperity. You refuse the humiliation of sharing the one you are bound with before the Gods themselves.

So you walk the few steps that separate you, back straight and posture that of a woman with a confidence you do not truly have. What you do have, though, is arrogance, is pride, is relentlessness.

No man has made your nature change before, and certainly no King can, no matter how cruel.

You tilt your head and look into his eyes, unwavering.

“A Hiereia of Despoina does not take lightly to marriage. Your people may do things differently, but my people don’t, my Gods don’t,” Your heart remembers your homeland, your mother’s smiles as your father passed by and left a gentle caress on her face, her empty eyes as she waited for weeks for the ships that never returned, the love that years after their deaths all the way in Laconia -even with the bitterness of having lost their heir to Sparta to an Athenian- your family spoke of how blessed were they to have each other as husband and wife. The bitterness and grief make your resolve falter for a moment, but you still continue, “Before your Gods and my own I will promise loyalty to you, I will promise faithfulness. I ask-…no, I demand the same in return.”

“You demand.” He repeats, clearly a mock, a bait that you choose not to bite this time.

You nod.

“Which brings me back to my question, Viking,” You lift your eyebrows, “What is it you want?”

“I want many things,” He replies vaguely, shrugging before turning eyes like Greek fire to your own. “But I demand nothing more than that.”

With a small sound of exertion, he turns his back to you and continues walking towards the main room of the longhouse, leaving you dumbfounded and partly impressed, leaving you with the realization you played exactly how he wanted you to.

It feels like those times you would run to cross the dangerous and wild stream near the temple, your hair wild and feet bare. It feels like the deafening noise of the current in your ears, the fear and excitement running through your veins, the possibility of failure or success.

You smile.

____

“Why am I not surprised?” Ivar starts from behind you, and you turn to him without removing your hands from your task.

“Because I am predictable.”

“Stubborn,” He corrects as he steps into your room, eyes on the small sapling you planted on a ceramic vase. “You know it will not grow here, it needs warmer and softer ground than ours.”

You nod before leaving the plant by the window, hoping it will absorb as much sunlight as it needs, as it can.

“I have to try.”

He remains silent for a few moments, before the rustling of him moving where he stands brings your gaze to him. The King extends a hand and motions with his head,

“Come with me.”

You frown, but still stand up and walk slowly to his side. Your eyes travel to his still extended hand, but you cannot bring yourself to take it, choosing instead to ask,

“What is it?”

He doesn’t reply, and his jaw clenches before his hand drops back to his side. Still, he insists with a gesture of his head that you follow him.

The paths through his home are familiar to you by now, and you follow blindly as you try scrubbing off the dirt from your hands. Selene’s chariot is high up in the skies, the people have already retired to their homes, the thralls are making quick work of the mess left behind after tonight’s dinner.

After crossing a doorway, you find yourself in a spacious room with only a hearth in the middle of it, and some chairs and lunges. Chairs where, expectantly, the sons of Ragnar sit.

Prince Hvitserk greets you with your name, and you smile faintly, and he smiles back as he states, “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Prince Hvi-…”

“What is she doing here, Ivar?” The older Prince interrupts, eyes burning on you with a distrust and a vitriol quite alike his brother’s but more contained.

And you know it is not a mere question. Years alongside mercenaries, alongside warriors and leaders, they let you know this is a public defiance, a test of both mettles.

The way Prince Ubbe speaks, with the same tone in his voice, the same carry of his loud words, that has made you fear before; it makes you stay frozen in the doorway for a moment too long.

The King only shrugs, walking ahead and taking a seat, absently using his crutch to move a chair at his side back so you can sit.

Before replying to his brother, he turns to you and motions for you to sit.

“She is my…advisor.”

His gesture may speak of nonchalance, but his words have that slight carry you have noticed before, the pride of authority and the will and strength to carry said authority.

But his brother still takes his words with a dismissive smile, shaking his head, “You take a Greek witch as an advisor?”

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying that better men have tried better insults, and that nor your blood or your gifts, and the titles they warrant, call for you to feel offended at their mention, even if he wills it so.

Instead, you grit your teeth and swallow your pride to keep silent as you take your gaze to the King, studying his façade as he lifts purposely falsely innocent eyebrows at his brother, his mouth curved in a small mocking smile.

“I never did things the normal way, did I?” Some silent conversation seems to flow between the two sons of Ragnar, and you catch Hvitserk’s eyes for a moment.

He smiles, an apology, a gesture that says you ought to get used to this; and you offer a small smile in return, one of the first honest ones you’ve given the Prince.

“Why?” Ubbe insists.

Stithulf’s disgust as you are caught in the tent where they discuss war, his demand for answers when he turns to the man that would be your husband, “What is the witch doing here?”

“She is to be my wife, I trust her advice.” Narses replies simply. It irks of too little when the Gods know you are the reason he won against the Saracens, but you are still grateful, because you have to be.

“She is a smart woman,” Ivar replies, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I trust her judgement when it comes to Stithulf more than yours, brother.”

Before he can taunt his brother into throwing an axe to your face, you decide to intervene, voice low as you lean closer.

“Ivar…”

“Dublin is being hounded by Stithulf’s forces,” He explains without a second thought. He leans on the table before him, not turning to you as he speaks so you are left studying the way the light draws his profile, “We are leaving in two days.”

“We?”

“Hvitty will stay here with you.” He reassures, or attempts to at least, yet all he manages is to make you frown.

“Why are you going?” You hiss, and as he turns to you the King furrows his nose in annoyance, the beginning of a snarl starting to curl at his lip.

“Afraid the cripple can’t defend himself?”

“Stithulf couldn’t care less about Dublin. He wants your head, Viking.” You insist instead of replying to the obvious taunt. He opens his mouth to retort, clearly surprised by your revelation, but is interrupted before he can speak.

“Ivar, witch,” Ubbe calls out, startling you out of your conversation. He raises his eyebrows, “Share with the rest of us, will you?”

After a breath, you explain, “Stithulf is after the men that killed his King. He doesn’t care about cities, or land, or…fame. He wants the sons of Ragnar.”

“So you think he is trying to draw us out.”

I know so. You want to say, but you bite your tongue, you swallow your pride, your arrogance, even if you know that if you were a man they’d call it confidence.

“He reached my homeland searching for an edge over your armies, and found it in Arab and Greek forces. I doubt he will waste them destroying buildings, my Prince.” You answer with a nod, not missing the way Ivar’s eyes remain glued to you as you speak. It thrills you when it should make you want to crawl out of your own skin.

They continue talking to each other, discussing what they ought to do, how they are to approach the city. You doubt the reinforcements from Ivar’s army will hold the same element of surprise as they did the last time Stithulf readied his army near Dublin; and it seems they have the same idea for they don’t plan on being subtle about Kattegat’s navy supporting Dublin.

And as the moon travels through the skies, when you should be exhausted and ready to sleep; you are thrilled and beyond interested. The song of war, Athena’s boardgame, it all wraps around you like a familiar cloak.

So you soak in their talks about formations, about ways they can approach, you rejoice in listening to the way Dublin can be defended. With your elbows on the table and your head in your hands, you listen and observe, for once without fear of being told you are out of place.

____

And before you know it two days have passed. On the last night, when the ships are readied for the journey, the warriors celebrating their last night in Kattegat; you sit with Freydis and other women from the apothecary, exchanging laughs and stories as the feast goes on around you.

More than once during the night, your foolish heart makes your eyes roam the hall in search of the King, and you find yourself smiling like a fool at the sight of him drinking and laughing with his brothers, with his men.

The times where you look for him only to find him already with his eyes on you, those times make your foolish heart beat faster, but you will deny it if anyone asks.

You swirl the mead in your cup as you lay back on your chair, taking in the ongoing celebration and trying to remember the last time you felt this comfortable and safe and…

“You feel at home, witch.” Freydis states quietly, almost by your ear, interrupting your thoughts.

Wide eyes find hers, but she only smiles calmly, with that hint that she knows a secret you don’t.

Before you can ask her to kindly be a bit less cryptic for once, she looks at someone behind you, and a hand gently calling for your attention when it rests on your shoulder stops you.

You turn to meet the warm eyes of Prince Hvitserk, who offers you a silent greeting and a small smile.

“My brother calls for you.” He whispers, eyes on yours and the promise of what is to come written on them. You wonder how much of how you have come to become his brother’s wife is known to him.

Ivar stands before his throne and your heart lurches when you see another seat arranged besides it. You find his eyes, and he extends a hand.

“I will not sit there.” You hiss at him. He grits his teeth, the annoyance at how you are unwilling to follow even the simplest of commands clear in his expression.

“You will be at my side, get up here.”

Your eyes travel to his still extended hand, palm facing upwards, fingers open and vulnerable expecting the touch of your own. Rationally, you know there’s a feast going around you, you know there’s yells and songs and laughs, but you cannot hear anything but the ringing in your own ears.

You cannot see anything but his hand expecting the touch of your own, and his eyes searching yours.

And though you know it is the tug of the invisible binds set upon you what makes you take the steps necessary and hold his hand, the chains don’t feel as heavy as you thought they would.

Calloused but warm fingers close around your hand, and Ivar stands taller.

He calls for the attention of his people, and when the hall quietens and you feel all their eyes on the pair of you, it is you that grips tighter onto his hand on yours.

“My people,” He starts, proud and confident and infuriatingly performative, “Most of you already know of this fine woman I have at my side since our return from Dublin, Greek by birth but a daughter of one Sieghild Vorsdottir,” You hear the mumbled replies, the hushed whispers at the mention of your mother, and you narrow your eyes. Ivar continues, “You will all soon know her as your Queen, for when we return from Dublin again, she will be my wife, and Queen of Kattegat.”

You hold your head high as the Varangians lift their cups and horns and hands and voices in celebration and congratulations. Ivar thanks them with a smile and a gesture of his hand, and aside from a few men that approach to give their congratulations face to face, soon enough the aura of calm -or what calm has come to mean in these strange lands- returns to the room.

You eye the chair they set for you at the side of Ivar’s throne cautiously, but you will not lie to yourself and say it feels constricting to sit up there.

You make a point of letting go of the King’s hand as soon as you sit, though, and based on the way his jaw clenches and his head moves to the side in clear anger, you can tell he’s obviously noticed.

The feast lives on, and a few times -repeatedly, actually, which you will blame on the mead and ale- toasts arise to wish for the Gods’ favor on the incoming battles across the sea, to congratulate the King and his foreign bride, to celebrate the death that is to come and the death that might escape them.

It is all incredibly strange to you, painfully foreign. You have no choice but to remain at your seat, facing the loud and boastful warriors, listening to foreign tongues, trying to understand strange customs.

It makes you think of what Sieghild would make out of this. She always accused you of being too arrogant, too proud, too ambitious for a Greek woman. Boasted about it being her influence what taught you to stand straight and never bite your tongue.

What would she make out of her daughter being fated to become wife of one Ivar the Boneless?

“My mother,” You start, and almost startled the King turns to you. “You brought up her name twice now, as if she is…”

“Famous?” He supplies, beginning of a smirk in place, “She is.”

“Sieghild?”

“Women with hair and eyes like hers are not easily ignored. Doesn’t help she is taller and stronger than many men,” He shrugs, looking ahead, ��King Rorik had to fight a bear to get her hand, or so the Danes say.

You have heard that name before, only once in your mother’s lips. It doesn’t cease to make disgust and hate churn at your stomach.

At your silence, Ivar insists,

“You know of him, don’t you? The only madman before my brother Bjorn to take sail to your Mediterranean.”

“He didn’t reach the Mediterranean,” You offer quietly, “His ships docked in a land colder than this one, many died because of cold or hunger. And though he and the warriors that were left founded Aldeigja, it is still a long way from the Mediterranean.”

“Did you ever meet him?” He asks, and your eyebrows raise in surprise. The King only shrugs, “You mentioned travelling a lot.”

You shake your head, “Sieghild…she was betrayed by him. She would never let him close to me.”

“But she told you of him.”

“To warn me of what men in power are capable of.”

“A woman made Anassa,” He retorts, the word still foreign on his lips but you find it oddly endearing that he tries speaking your tongue, using your titles, “wouldn’t have much to fear from men in power, now would she?”

You only raise your eyebrows in response, “You think I had any real power back in Greece?” Before he can answer, you shake your head with a chuckle, “Ivar, my own people didn’t take me as a leader until I died for them. Even that wasn’t enough, Anassa is only a title, it wouldn’t change their hearts. I am a woman that refuses to fight like a man to achieve my goals, I had no place being queen in their eyes.

He stays silent, one of his hands by his mouth and his eyes intent on yours, and you let your lip curl in anger as you lay your back once again on the backrest of your seat, looking ahead.

“Because of me and what I learned they managed to fend off the Saracen raiders, because of me and my blood Laconia came to their support with the finest warriors in the Mediterranean, because of me they had time to escape Eleusis when the Christians came,” You grit your teeth, and if it is bitterness and anger and hunger all that’s left within you once the veil of nostalgia is gone, then so be it. “And yet I had to prove myself more than any man, more than-…

More than Narses.

You stop yourself, stealing a glance at the Viking that still keeps unwavering interest in the words that leave your lips. You shake your head, and reach for the cup a thrall refilled a few moments ago.

“It doesn’t matter. Most of the free Attics are dead somewhere near Aneridge, the rest will perish when winter comes. It doesn’t matter.”

The King touches his own cup with yours, and you eye him carefully, wary of what the outburst might mean for you, but Ivar only smirks.

“If you say so.” He mocks, drinking from his own cup but with his expression still dripping mirth and skepticism.

You roll your eyes, and settling better in the undeserved seat, you let conversation between the two of you go somewhere else.

And so it does, because frustratingly enough the Viking will never cease to be fascinating to you, and no matter what the two of you talk about it always manages to fill you with curiosity and warmth.

The ruckus of the feast eventually dies down, although not that far from the time the sun will rise over the sea, and you shake off your drowsiness as you watch people take their leave from the main hall.

Ivar stands up from his throne and gestures the mock of a bow your way, mumbling his goodnight. You watch him leave, reminded of the ships that are to depart over the horizon soon.

So, stealing a glance at the few remaining people and guards around you, you stand up and follow.

____

A bit of a cliffhanger, ik, I’m sorry. If I continued the last scene till the end this chapter would be a 10k word beast, so cliffhanger it is.

Also yes Rorik (Rurik) as in Igor’s father, as in the King that sailed East and started the Rus dynasty is in my canon a Danish King and Sieghild’s former husband, whom she followed in that adventure to wherever-the-fuck. Then they parted ways, and she found herself in the Mediterranean. I will probably go in more detail about this in Sieghild’s PoV, which should be the spinoff chapter uploaded next Tuesday.

Anyway, hope you liked this chapter, I hope you don’t completely hate where the story goes after the Sieghild revelation and all that. But yeah, would love to hear back from you, thank you for reading, and have a nice day/night!!

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 4 years ago

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If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 11

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordham. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

A/N: One of the first chapters I wrote.

March 2016:

“I don’t like this,” Victoria muttered, brushing his hair back.

“I know, doll. I’ll be home soon enough, okay?” He was going undercover, staying in a shelter for sex offenders, and she was clinging to him beforehand. Sonny was thankful when Victoria came home with a bag of clothes he was inheriting from Margy’s husband so that he didn’t have to bring anything from this home after. The only thing he refused was taking his ring off, working marriage into his back story. It wouldn’t come off again.

“I know. I just hate knowing where you’ll be. Who you’ll be around.”

“Me too, Tor. I gotta pretend I’m one of them.”

“We’ll go see Bella and Tommy when you’re home. Play with our newest niece.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“I love you, Dom. I’ll miss you.”

“I love you, Tor. I’ll miss you too. Be home as soon as I can, okay? You call Liv if you need anything. Amanda has your number too, in case she needs help with Jessie.”

“I know. Go catch the bad guy, okay?”

He kissed her softly, and she ruffled his hair as he left. Sonny didn’t want to look too much like himself for this. She’d suggested the name Smitty, mostly as a joke when they were watching some movie. It was a week and a half before he could come home. Once they thought they had Loomis, and then realized Richie was involved too, Sonny got to come home and shed the persona before returning to the precinct. Of course, Victoria didn’t know any of this; she just knew Sonny would need support.

In the time he’d been gone, she’d been feeling under the weather, so when he got home, she was sipping ginger tea in a vain attempt to settle her stomach. He dropped the duffel bag when the door was locked, immediately starting to peel off the jacket, then the inherited hoodie, then the jeans that didn’t fit right and drop them on the bag.

“I gotta wash this off,” he said plainly as he went for the shower. It was a habit he’d taken to as he figured out how to separate the days on the job that felt like they stuck with him the most. Sonny would shower, though he usually didn’t feel such an aversion to his clothing, and then talk to her once he felt better. This time, she went to the bathroom after a while, sitting on the toilet seat.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I guess.” The water shut off, and he pulled the curtain back to get a towel. “I didn’t like pretending I had pictures of kids. But it also was weird? I don’t think any of those guys got enough time. But I was also, like, playin’ dominoes with them. Can make you wonder if they’re the same guy as before they did time.”

“I know that’s not easy to think about.”

“It looks like they might have proved me wrong.”

“How?”

“The guy who did it? He’s the one I thought was probably rehabilitated. He also saved me when I got jumped so-”

“You got jumped?”

“Shit, Lieu didn’t tell you?”

“No. Dom, are you okay?”

“A vic’s dad saw me at the precinct. I was new in the place so he thought I was the perp and he and his friends brought bats.” He shifted around, and she could see deep purple bruise across his back. “Richie, one of the guys, saved me.”

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, fingers gently brushing over the swelling. “Did you see a doc?”

“It’s just a bruise. Feeling better every day.”

“Liv said you gotta go back in?”

“No. But, I need to hear everything. See this through.”

“I know. Liv said she approved for you to take a few days off when it’s over.”

“She told me. Somebody meddled.”

“Love you,” she sang softly. “You need to take time to recover.”

“I was planning to ask, and I appreciate that you did meddle when you watched Noah. I love you. So much.”

“I’ll get you some clothes while you shave and stuff.”

“Thank you, Tor.” She left him to get ready, laying out a suit and tie and everything else. He came in not long after, and she took advantage of the opportunity to watch him get dressed. Things had been good again for almost a year, and she needed to talk to him, but knew this wasn’t the time. In the worst case of timing, she’d started to feel sick while he was okay. It wasn’t too bad at first, easily written off as PMS, but she’d realized she was late the night before, something that made her wish it had taken him just one more day to come home. She hadn’t taken a test yet, and it didn’t feel like the right time to talk about it. She knew he’d be ecstatic if she were, but they’d decided to drop the subject until summer. The possibility still scared her because all she could consider was that he'd get distant when the first hard case came.

Sonny would get home that night, and they’d have the weekend. The trial would start on Monday, and Dominick planned to go. They had the next two days, and then he’d take two after the trial. There was a box of tests tucked at the bottom of her underwear drawer, and a lazy Saturday felt like the right time to find out. He fell into the bed when he got home,taking just enough time to tell her the attorney was the real perp and the guy who had saved him wasn’t before falling asleep quickly. Since he was home so late, it was easy enough for her to wake up before him, running the shower as she watched the clock.

“How about I join-” she could hear Sonny before she turned and saw him, eyes wide. He took in Victoria settled on a toilet seat with a small white stick clutched in her hands. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” she said, cheeks red as her eyes welled up. “Don’t be mad.”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, kneeling in front of her. “I’m not mad. Did you not want me with you?”

“Yeah. I’m scared, Dom.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to process it. What we talked about at Christmas. The fact it’s not June yet, so I shouldn’t be pregnant.”

“We’ll stay in therapy. Unfortunately a verbal agreement doesn’t prevent pregnancy,” a soft smile as he teased her. “But I’ll be here. I swear to you, doll. I know the doin’ is the only thing that can make that real.”

“I was definitely going to tell you if I am. I got a little box to put it in.”

“That’s all that matters to me, okay? We’re two separate people. You’re the one who may be carrying our baby. If you needed to process that first, it’s fair. I really hope you are, though.”

“I think what scares me is that I kind of do too. We always talked about it. But this isn’t when we planned, y’know?”

“I know, doll. But I think the last few years tell us everything ain’t going to go to plan. But we can get through anything,” Sonny whispered, kissing her temple. She looked to her phone, letting out a breath. “Want me to check it?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, head on his chest. He reached forward, holding it up.

“How many lines is a baby?”

“Two.” She knew the answer as soon as she heard him sniff and felt his arms tighten around her. Victoria could feel the smile on his face, and she clung to him.

“We made a baby, tesoro.”

“Lemme see,” she murmured, eyes teary. Reverently, she held it, wrapping around his middle.

“Wait, so around six weeks is when my sisters all realized. Tor, are we having a Valentine’s baby?”

“I guess,” she whispered. “They’ll give us the conception window, won’t they?”

“Oh my god, we’ll get to see them soon,” he beamed, dropping his hands to her belly. His wide eyed reverence made her feel butterflies in her stomach, butterflies that started to overshadow the nerves.

“We will. I’ll call a doctor Monday. Maybe they can squeeze me in your off days. Then we can see them before you tell anyone. I know you won’t be able to wait until 12 weeks to tell ma.”

“What made you start realizing?”

“I had all that indigestion. Got fatigued right before you went. Then I’ve been nauseous all the time and peeing a lot. I realized I was late like the night before you got home when I realized how much my boobs hurt. I wanted to know before you got here but then it wrapped up.”

“What are you craving?” he asked, picking her up and gently settling her on the bed. “I’ll get you these ginger candies. Teresa, Bella, and Gina all swear by them for the nausea and indigestion. I couldn’t get Amanda to eat them with Jesse. You’ll need a pregnancy pillow when you get bigger. And not to be gross, but we gotta get chia seeds. Bella learned it helps you not get constipated.”

“Nothing yet. But I love you,” she whispered, pulling him to lay against her side. She wanted to cry, so grateful to see his response. The change she’d imagined was sudden, an immediate withdrawal. Now he was here, after a hard case, not pulling back. Instead, she had a feeling there’d be a basket of ginger candy, bananas, and chia pudding waiting on a pregnancy pillow with a handful of onesies.

“I love you, too,” he grinned before ducking to kiss her unchanged belly. “And I love you, kiddo. Me and your mom can’t wait to meet you.” Victoria’s hand rested in his hair as he laid his head on her side. She was right, and he went to the store after a while, returning hours later with bags. Carefully, he laid everything on the coffee table. He was excited, she could tell, and she wondered if he’d even make it to the appointment before telling his mom.

“So, I know we aren’t tellin’ ma yet, but I did some googling about your boobs to try to figure out what can help. It said the, like, stretchy bras like these so I got a lot. And then these boob ice packs and nipple cream because I didn’t know which part hurts. Prenatals, because duh. Ginger candy since that’s bothering ya now. I got chia seeds for if you get constipated and then Gina ate a banana a day because she got lots of muscle cramps, so I got us more bananas. And then there’s that dip and chips you like flowers in the kitchen.”

Victoria was silent, staring up at him. The doubt that had wormed its way into her head was gone, though she knew it would reappear until experience confirmed she was wrong. But now? She was more secure than she’d ever been. She thought whatever change would be there suddenly, that he’d pull away when he knew and spend too much time in his head. Instead, here was Sonny, just off a case that wasn’t easy for him, putting his focus on the good news. He knew she was afraid, and he was genuinely there for her. She also knew that there was an extent to which this was his way of saying See, doll? I’m not going anywhere. Victoria teared up, and Sonny looked worried, dropping beside her.

“Come here, you absolute sap,” she sniffed. There were the hormones. Really, there was the overwhelming confirmation that he wasn’t going anywhere and they’d get this life together. The sentimentality she often felt when she realized he was just so good and so sweet, even if he thought his job tainted that.

“Ah, you happy crying?”

“Yeah. You’re so perfect, Dom. This is so sweet.”

“You’re carrying our baby, Victoria. This is the least I can do. I’m going to take care of you. I’m so grateful.”

The weekend and trial went by in a blur, but Victoria was able to confirm she was pregnant with bloodwork while he was in court. They were going to an ultrasound that Thursday, and she was glad to know the trial would wrap up in time for Sonny to make it without her needing to reschedule. She was later than she realized once she visited the doctor, and Sonny had excitedly downloaded apps for both of them to track the pregnancy week by week. The first time anyone saw them together, they’d probably guess that she was pregnant, based only on the way he escorted her like she’d break now and instinctively reached for her belly despite the lack of a bump. If it weren’t so endearing, she’d be furious.

“You excited to see them?” he asked, leg bouncing as they sat. “Ain’t a valentine’s baby, but that means we get them two weeks sooner.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, hand going to his knee. “You okay, Dom?”

“I’m so nervous.”

“Me too. But we can see them today.”

“The app says they’re the size of a raspberry. Maybe that’s why you’ve been craving them.”

“We’ll track the weekly comparisons.”

“We’ll tell everybody at dinner tonight. Ma’s gonna flip.”

“And you can tell the squad when you decide. I know you. Four weeks could be unbearable.”

“I just wanna tell everybody. We got a little raspberry.”

“Saturday we get the next fruit.”

“Perfect. I’ll update my chart of what you’ll be craving.” He kept his hand on her back as they went to the ultrasound room, watching the tech like a kid on Christmas. If she didn’t know for a fact that he’d been incredibly supportive of four different women through pregnancy, she’d think he didn’t know how any of this worked. When the nurse started to show them the baby, confirming the heartbeat and measuring to determine if the age was correct, Sonny watched the image with what was officially the goofiest of his grins she’d ever seen.

“Want to hear them?” the tech asked softly. “I think we’ll be able to hear.”

“Please,” Victoria smiled as she held his hand tight. Sonny pressed his lips to the back of her hand as the steady sound filled the room. His eyes were brimmed with happy tears, and she started to cry too when they made eye contact, which made them both let out happy laughs.

“That’s our kid.” The joy in his voice made Victoria wish they’d just gone straight for this a year before.

“It is,” she whispered. Soon enough, they were in their apartment, and Sonny had his cheek pressed to her belly and the print out of the sonogram clutched in his hand.

“I’m gonna tell them a story every night. And if I get caught on a case, I’ll call and tell a really short story.”

“Yeah?” Her hand smoothed through his hair as she watched him. His eyes were closed, and he was desperate to see if he could pick up on the baby’s heartbeat. He knew he was just hearing hers, but maybe if he stayed there long enough…

“Yeah. And I’m gonna be at every sonogram. I can’t wait, Tor.”

“Me either, Dom. I know I’ve been scared, but this week makes me feel better about it. I can’t promise I won’t get panicky sometimes.”

“I know. I’m glad you’re feeling better about it, but I understand if you get freaked. The girls and Rollins? All three of them got really emotional and panicky.”

“I love you. We both do.”

“I love both of you. I’m telling Lieu tomorrow. I want to let her know. And be positive I get to be at the twelve week appointment.”

“That’s fine, Dom. I also know you gotta tell somebody.”

“That too,” he admitted.

The next morning found him giddy as he got to the office. On his way, he’d grabbed zeppoli, setting them out and dropping at his desk with his coffee. He’d only seen Fin so far, but it felt impossible not to run up to him, whip out his phone, and start showing off the ultrasound photo. He kept pulling it up just to be sure it was there and real and ready for him to show Olivia. He wasn’t sure he’d have made as much progress as he had without the squad she led. It had helped him feel more stable as he accepted that there were things he needed to work on to be okay again. Olivia was, to him, unknowingly a big part of why he’d gotten his head out of his ass. He went to her open door the minute he saw her sit down.

“Hey Lieu, can I talk to you?” he asked from the doorway. Liv motioned for him to come in and close the door.

“Everything alright, Carisi?”

“I just got something you need to know, ‘cause I’ll have to disappear for a couple hours every once in a while.”

“Oh? Is everything okay?” she asked, leaning back as she looked up at him.

“Yeah. Tor’s nine weeks along as of this past Saturday, so the reason is about the size of a cherry now.”

“Victoria’s pregnant?” she beamed, and Sonny nodded eagerly, fumbling to pull out the ultrasound picture on his phone.

“We found out a week ago. The ultrasound was Thursday. There’s no bump yet, but she’s got just a little bit bigger and I can’t wait until she pops. It’s kind of crazy, I know, but I’m going to be a dad. I was gonna wait until we did the twelve week ultrasound, but y’know, I gotta leave to do that.”

“And you just wanted to tell somebody.”

“That too,” he said, and Olivia wanted to tease him for how boyish he looked with the grin and nervous glances to his lap. “I’m glad I knew before the bar, or I wouldn’t have been able to focus.”

“You two will be phenomenal parents. Congratulations. Unless something comes up, you’re fine to go for doctor’s appointments. How’s she feeling?”

“Pregnant,” he laughed. “But the bakery’s in a good way. She’s stepping back a little more. And between my sisters and Amanda, I remember what stuff helps so I try to help.”

“I gave Bella Noah’s old clothes or I’d offer them.”

“I appreciate that. We’ll inherit enough from everybody though. Plus, I kinda like shopping for onesies and stuff. They’re really cute. And Target got in some real cute outfits...”

“Are you telling everyone else?”

“Not until twelve weeks. But I couldn’t go without telling you, lieu.”

@cycat4077

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x oc #law and order #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #writing

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jewishsimming · 4 years ago

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are you familiar with the religions from the sims medieval? i was wondering how you might translate judaism to the sims in a similar way? i don’t want christianity to be the only religion in my world and im already working on paganism, and i just don’t know much about actual jewish faith. if you can help with this, that would be incredible! but i totally understand if you don’t want to or can’t for whatever reason, thank you anyway 💚

Hey! Great question. I'll do my best to answer. Obligatory disclaimer, I'm not a spokesperson for all Jews, and other Jewish people may have differing opinions from me, which is okay. I will do my best to give you factual information without personal bias.

So, the Sims Medieval religion is based on Christianity. Jacoban and Peteran denominations are, I believe, based on Catholicism and Protestantism respectively.

The most important thing to know about Judaism is that it is fundamentally different from Christianity. The idea of "Judeo-Christian"? Toss it out (in fact, Judaism is closer to Islam than it is to Christianity). I

To give you a detailed answer on the differences between Christianity and Judaism would take too long and honestly, I’m no Torah scholar. I’ll do my best to summarise some of the biggest differences:

1. Jews do not believe Jesus was the messiah. That’s probably the biggest difference given that Christianity is based around this fundamental idea -- that Jesus was the son of G-d and died on the cross for our sins. The concept of Jesus varies between sects of Christianity, but most either believe that he is literally the son of G-d and thus divine, or he was some sort of angel.

2. Jews believe G-d is infinite, omnipresent and omnipotent. That is, we have no ‘Father, Son and the Holy Spirit’. I believe some Christian sects conceptualise these as being separate, and others believe they are one and the same. Jews don’t have this concept, obviously because we don’t believe in Jesus as the son of G-d, but also because we believe G-d has no physical form, that he exists in everything... and thus has no separate “holy spirit”). G-d has no divine children, no gender, no form to take, and doesn’t look like Morgan Freeman.

3. Jews don’t believe in a heaven or a hell. We have some concepts of an afterlife or a ‘world to come’, which is tied up in beliefs of the Messianic age, or the time in which the messiah will finally come. The messiah who is not Jesus.

4. Jews don’t really believe in the concept of ‘original sin’; that is, we don’t believe that everyone was born inherently sinful, and that repentance for our sins will get us into heaven. For Jews, our actions in this world matters, because we simply don’t know if there’s an afterlife. A really good quote on this is “The attitude of Judaism might best be summed up as "We really do not know, but if there is a life after this one, and a reward for what we do, then surely it will be dependent upon the kind of life we have lived. Therefore, let us strive to follow God's path for us as closely and as enthusiastically as possible, for then we surely will know all manner of rewards, especially the one of seeing a world that is a better place for our efforts." (link HERE).

5. Jews follow 613 mitzvot. We have no ‘10 commandments’, like Christianity does. Instead, Jews have 613 mitzvot. Mitzvot (singular mitzvah) is translated as a commandment, but personally I think of it more like deeds or obligations. There are 365 negative commandments (that is, commandments like ‘you shall not do x’) and 248 positive commandments (’you shall do x’). Of course this varies between our own denominations, but they cover a variety of things that also crop up in our religious law (halacha), such as rules for kashrut/kosher and other things.

Onto the second question, how could you adapt this for the Sims? Judaism is quite a complex religion and culture, so it probably wouldn’t be easy. If you’re not too sure, best to focus it around good deeds and the environment, with the main group belief being that what you do in this life matters, rather than the “afterlife”. For example, the “Sim Judaism” group could worship a deity called The Name, that is omnipresent, omnipotent, genderless and nameless, only being called ‘The Name’. The title is a reference to the word for G-d, HaShem, which literally means... The Name. ;p

The group could have a focus on good deeds and charity, taking care of the environment and social justice, and treating others with kindness. This follows several of our values: tzedekah (charity), chesed (lovingkindness) and tikkun olam (repairing the world).

I would avoid writing any sort of Sim-version Holocaust into the group history because IMO that would be inappropriate and really only something a Jew should handle (and I want to be clear I will NEVER personally play some sort of simulated Holocaust in my game).

I hope this helps. Let me know if you have any questions.

#ts4

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dailyaudiobible · 4 years ago

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02/17/2021 DAB Transcript

Leviticus 4:1-5:19, Mark 2:13-3:6, Psalms 36:1-12, Proverbs 10:1-2

Today is the 17th day of February welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it’s great to be here with you, hump day, as we move to the center of one of the 52 weeks that we have. I guess there’s 52 hump days, 52 centers of every week and here we are at another one crossing through the middle, heading into the back half. It's wonderful to be able to share some time together around this Global Campfire to just step in, step in and out of all the other stuff that's going on, and just take our place, relax, exhale, allow God's word to speak into our lives. And, so, let's continue the journey. We began the book of Leviticus yesterday. We will continue that journey today. Leviticus 4 and 5 and we’re reading from the Common English Bible this week.

Commentary:

Okay. Well…I got a great idea. Let's talk…let's talk about something we like to talk about. Let's talk about sin. Let's talk about sin, our probably favorite, one of our top favorite subjects to talk about, right? Sin. It’s like a confusing word. We know when we've done but it but it's unclear like exactly what the parameters are. So, let's begin by just trying to come to some sort of maybe common understanding about what we’re even talking about because there’s plenty of definitions for sin and…but…but it seems like from a biblical perspective sin is basically doing what we know we’re not supposed to do before God. And maybe even a better way of understanding that is simply asking ourselves, “could I have done that in the name of Jesus? Like, could I have done that representing the king and the kingdom?” And that makes it stark enough for us to go, “okay, now I know what we’re talkn’ about. Now I have some handholds here to understand what we’re talking about.” God has an order to things. We see it in the Scriptures, but we see it in the natural rhythms of life itself. And this perfect order, like if we were to say, “the way things were supposed to be” or “the way things that…the way things are supposed to be”, like perfectly in order according to the Lord's will, then that would be called shalom. So, in effect. Sin is willingly interrupting shalom, whether in our own lives or whether in the lives of others, but sin is destructive, it leads to destruction because it separates us from God. And, so, if we want to perpetually live separated from God, then we are talking about the worst possible scenario that could ever happen. So, it actually is a big deal, it will kill us and separate us from God. So, kind of like a very, very toxic poison. If you have children you probably…like if they’re young children, like toddlers, you probably don't let them play under the kitchen sink, right? Probably because there's some toxic poison under there of some sort that is to be used for different purposes besides ingesting. And, so, we would want to impress upon our toddler that that's off limits, that opening those cabinets is not allowed and if they persist we might even spank their hands, or we might even put them in a timeout, like we might punish them in some way so that they get clear because if they get into that cabinet and we don't catch it, and they drink that poison it's gonna destroy them. So, hopefully we’re kind of on the same page here. This is largely what we’re talking about in the book of Leviticus today. It just comes in the form of sacrifice, and we just have no way really to relate to animal sacrifice in most of the cultures that we live in. And, so, we come to this point in the Bible, this kind of notorious point in the Bible we’re you’re like, “what is going on here? I don’ relate any of this. What does this have to do with my life? This is so boring. This is like laws and rules and customs that nobody lives by anymore. What's the big deal here?” And, so, this is where a lot of checking out happens and so we miss what's actually going on, a discussion about the results of sin. And as God is weaving this into the culture it's tedious, it's a tedious thing. So, we can just glaze over, yawn, and go, “I don't…we don't have to sacrifice animals. Thank God. Jesus is the last sacrifice” and just brush the whole thing off not understanding that there’s something really really deep going on here. Imagine that you did discover that you were…you were sinning whether unintentionally or whether you absolutely in rebellion did something that you knew you were not supposed to do and that you definitely could not do in the name of God. If…I…I mean I was gonna use like our…our…our pets as an example because that would be the closest example, we can get to to bring context, but let's just skip that. Let’s just say we had goats or we had sheep or whatever and we fed them every day and we talked to them every day and we brushed them and we knew them and they were kind of part of the fabric of our family culture and they were…they were part of the story, like we got milk for our children or we made cheese whatever…whatever…whatever. Imagine that you have to go select one and that you…you have to select the perfect one, like your favorite one, like the best one, the most perfect thing of them all, and you have to take that and you have to put your hand on it before the priest, you have to put your hand on its head, and you gotta take a big blade and you have to slice its throat, right? And you have to bleed the blood out and the life leaves them and then…then it's brought before the altar. Like if you had to do that it would be a stark reminder that sin is costing something. It's costing something beautiful and perfect. It's costing because it's…because it's destroying. And, so, this animal serves as a stand in for what is deserved. So, I don't know how to make this more clear other than like that would be hard to do right? Sin is the blade at your own throat. We’re not beginning to read the story of the bloodthirsty, angry, vengeful God. We’re reading the story of a God who wants us to starkly, clearly understand what will destroy us and separate us from Him, which is the last thing that either one of us wants. It's a deterrent. It's a…it's like a road closed sign - don't go down this path that leads to destruction. And let's remember, nobody had to sacrifice anything if there wasn't sin. And let's remember that that is the work of Christ. And we can think about animal sacrifices as barbaric, but didn’t we just read the crucifixion a couple days ago in the book of Matthew for the first time this year? How much more barbaric can we get? And what we are observing is the last sacrifice for sin once and for all. So, as we continue this journey let's…let’s do…let’s stay rooted to the story. Like, I know we’re reading the law in the book of Leviticus and I know that the law is like I said, it’s not riveting reading, but it is not purposeless reading either. So, let's stay rooted to where the journey is taking us and where God is leading us.

And I use that as a dovetail. Can we talk about something else for a quick minute? I know we’ve been talking already for a few minutes but today…today is a very important day that ties in with all of this, a very important day on the Christian calendar. Today is known as Ash Wednesday and this inaugurates a season known as Lent, a season that leads us right up to the day before Easter, 40 days from now. And most years I point this out and I say generally the same story, which is I didn't grow up knowing anything other than the name Lent. And Ash Wednesday, I mean, I grew up seeing people with black smudges on their foreheads, occasionally moving around a city or a store or whatever, but not really even understanding what the point was. Maybe you have that smudge on your forehead today because you’ve gone to an Ash Wednesday service somewhere or maybe you're familiar with the fact that this day inaugurates a season of repentance and lamentation of considering deeply what sin cost and where it leads. Everything that we just talked about. Jesus becoming that final sacrifice, that it cost the life of the precious beloved Savior is something that we should contemplate and meditate upon because it's our sin. So, for centuries and centuries and centuries brothers and sisters all over the world have entered into this time of lamentation of fasting of repentance. And we may…you know…if we’ve never observed Lent or ever even understood really what the…what's going on, then we may consider…well…it's when you fast something, right? You decide you’re…you’re not gonna eat chocolate. That was like the most popular thing that…that I had I ever heard…like I’m not gonna eat a candy bar, I’m not gonna eat sugar for Lent. Or fasting social media for Lent. Or I'm going to fast certain foods for Lent or certain behaviors for Lent. That's great, that's fine, it's important even. When we fast something that we crave then every time we crave what we are fasting it is an inherent reminder of why we are fasting, and we can press in to that. But I have to tell you, it's maybe even less about fasting candy bars and more about understanding that this is a season in the year that is leading us to resurrection day. And resurrection day represents all things being made new within us again, that the resurrection power that raised Jesus from the dead, restored us to God, but sin separates us from God. And, so, really, to embrace Lent is to put everything on the table, not just candy bars. It’s to put everything on the table with open hands and say, “God I embrace this season that is leading me to all things being made new, but a season that reminds me that sin leads to death. And, so, I'm opening my hands and I'm loosening control over my life and saying what is here that is separating me from you? Identify that and show me how to walk away from it. Even things that I think, or thought were good habits and behaviors. Like Anything that is distracting me in some sort of way. I'm…I'm allowing you to take out of my life whatever needs to take…be taken and I'm allowing you to put into my life what needs to be there. And I'm allowing you to rearrange the things that are in my life so that they are aligned with the way that you would have me go in this next season of life.” So, this is a season to slow some things down and not be so frantic, to give some space to contemplation, some space to consideration, quiet consideration about what it took to give us the freedoms that we take for granted and still understanding that sin only leads one place and that is death. So, that's a little about Lent. Maybe you've never observed Lent in any way before, it was a little weird or whatever. Maybe it's not so weird. Maybe that the trajectory that the Christian calendar gives us, to contemplate the…the important parts of our lives helps us after the same fashion that the law that we’re reading the book of Leviticus, where everything that these people do reminds them of something deeper. Lent actually does this. And, so, maybe something to consider as we move through the next weeks toward new life toward resurrection through the end of the winter and moving into the springtime here in the northern hemisphere. Lent let's us sit with where we are and hope for where were going.

Prayer:

Jesus, we thank You. We thank You in advance, we thank You continually for Your sacrifice, for Your love that is so profound that it is really impossible to articulate. We’ve been trying to find the right words for thousands of years and we've said many many beautiful things, but it's still beyond us, Your beautiful life sacrificed in exchange for our rebellion. And as we enter into this season, we want to sit with it. We…we ask Your Holy Spirit to make it stark and clear to us what's happening when we when…when we participate in sin, because when we participate in sin against our brothers and sisters, against You, we are perpetuating darkness, we are bringing the darkness and allowing it to have its way with us. Your sacrifice informs us that that is not how it has to be. So, come Holy Spirit. Show us where we are. Show us what's going on inside. Show us the things that are drawing us away from You and toward destruction. Help us to own these things instead of blaming somebody else or some other set of circumstances. Help us to own our lives, own our sin and repent because we know that we are ashes to ashes and dust to dust. We pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Song:

Worlds Apart - Jars of Clay

I am the only one to blame for this Somehow it all ends up the same Soaring on the wings of selfish pride I flew too high and like Icarus I collide With a world I try so hard to leave behind To rid myself of all but love, to give and die To turn away and not become Another nail to pierce the skin of One who loves More deeply than the oceans More abundant than the tears Of a world embracing every heartache Can I be the one to sacrifice Or grip the spear and watch the blood and water flow To love you - Take my world apart To need you - I am on my knees To love you - Take my world apart To need you - Broken on my knees All said and done I stand alone Amongst remains of a life I should not own It takes all I am to believe In the mercy that covers me

Did You really have to die for me All I am for all You are What I need and what I believe are worlds apart And I pray To love you - Take my world apart To need you - I am on my knees To love you - Take my world apart To need you - Broken on my knees On my knees I look beyond the empty cross Forgetting what my life has cost Wipe away the crimson stains Dull the nails that still remain More and more I need you now I owe you more each passing hour Battles between grace and pride I gave up not so long ago So steal my heart and take the pain And wash the feet and cleanse my pride Take the selfish, take the weak And all the things I cannot hide Take the beauty, take my tears Sin-soaked heart, make it yours Take my world all apart Take it now, take it now And serve the ones that I despise Speak the words I can't deny Watch the world I used to love Fall to dust and blow away

I look beyond the empty cross Forgetting what my life has cost Wipe away the crimson stains Dull the nails that still remain So steal my heart and take the pain Take the selfish, take the weak And all the things i cannot hide Take the beauty, take my tears Take my world apart, take my world apart I pray, and I pray, and I pray Take my world apart Worlds apart

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graciousheaven · 4 years ago

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HOW SHOULD WE RESPOND TO GOD’S GRACE

“God’s grace rules by means of righteousness, leading us to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 5:21)

The Lord blesses those who obey his commands, but as a judgement to punish any disobedience, curse falls on anyone who breaks God’s commandments.

As a righteous God, the Lord punishes those who do evil, those who do not obey his commands.

We and our ancestors have never obeyed the Lord’s commands; we have broken them all.

No human being therefore can boast of being righteous before God.

For we were all conceived in sin, and in sin we live – we are all sinners.

As the scripture says, we all have sinned and fall short of the glory of the Lord.

Therefore, for God’s justice to be satisfied, the reward for our disobedience should be curse, which results in death.

But the price for our disobedience was paid for us in full on Calvary by Christ: He died on the cross to pay for our sins, although He had no sin.

The full wrath of God the Father was cast down on Him in order to set us free from our penalties.

Christ is the Saviour of the entire human race, for all the curses brought about by our disobedience were cast upon Him.

Thanks to Christ God’s justice was satisfied and human race is now reconciled with God.

The blood of Christ has cleansed us of all our sins and we now stand spotless before God.

Christ has clothed us with his own righteousness and all believers have been legally justified before God.

“He has brought us by faith into this experience of God’s grace, in which we now live”, as the Apostle Paul points it out in Romans 5:2.

Sins no longer have a hold on us; we are no longer separated from God’s glory.

We used to be sons and daughters of disobedience, but in his abundant mercy and grace God has called us to be his children.

As the Apostle John highlights it in verse 16 of the first chapter, “Out of the fullness of his grace He has blessed us all, giving us one blessing after another. God gave the Law through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ.”

By the blood of Christ our Lord and Saviour, we have been put right with God, by grace through faith.

Christ our Lord has redeemed us and established us in God’s grace.

It is this grace that sustains our life, it is this grace that keeps us in God’s glory.

It is by the free gift of God’s grace that we have been put right with Him through Christ Jesus, who set us free. (Romans 3:24)

And so no human being should think that they are good enough to deserve anything good from God.

We should instead be infinitely grateful for the abundant grace we receive every single moment of our lives from the Lord our God – what He does to us and for us is neither a reward for us being good, nor because we love Him.

There is nothing good in us: human heart is full of wickedness and evil.

“As the Scriptures say: ‘There is no one who is righteous, no one who is wise or who worships God. All have turned away from God; they have all gone wrong; no one does what is right, not even one. Their words are full of deadly deceit; wicked lies roll off their tongues and dangerous threats, like snake’s poison, from their lips; their speech is filled with bitter curses. They are quick to hurt and kill; they leave ruin and destruction wherever they go. They have not known the path of peace, nor have they learnt reverence for God.” (Romans 3:10-18)

We all have sinned against the Lord our God; none of us does what pleases Him.

But the Sovereign Lord in his love for us used the cross to cancel out our penalties.

The death of our Lord Jesus on the cross is the greatest manifestation of God’s love for humanity.

Christ’s blood is the key that opened the fountain of God’s grace, which forever maintains us into God’s glory.

It is the seal of the new covenant that brings God’s grace into our existence.

In the absence of this grace, all we deserve, as a result of our disobedience, is the wrath of God.

Because we all do what is evil, and so what we deserve is punishment for our sins, which is death.

As Psalms 9:17 tells us: “Death is the destiny of the wicked, all those who reject God.”

But what a good news we have – that day on Calvary the Lord Jesus paid it all; He suffered the full wrath of his own Father in order to bring us into his glory, by establishing us into God’s grace.

Christ’s crucifixion was done to cleanse us of our sins and his resurrection brought about the defeat of death.

The splendour of his resurrection, then, lies in the victory it brings us over death.

Sometimes ungrateful and ungodly people in their pride like to complain how God has not been good to them.

They say things like, ‘If God really cared about me He would not have let me suffer.’

Even in your suffering you should rejoice in the Lord, and be thankful and faithful to Him.

For it is his grace that keeps you alive, it is neither your merit nor your strength.

You deserve nothing good from the Lord; all you receive from Him is a free gift.

Whatever God gives you should then be received with a thankful and rejoicing heart, because would it not be for his grace your reward would be death.

And this grace cost Him the crucifixion of his own Son; Christ suffered the fate of evil men although He knew no sin.

“Christ was without sin, but for our sake God made Him share our sin in order that in union with Him we might share the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21)

Human beings are nothing without God, although many people are so arrogant and perverted that they do not acknowledge his existence.

People need to understand that God is infinitely good and full of grace, and all He does is right and good.

As a matter of fact, what we receive from God is not a reward for what we have done; it is not even because we love God.

For no human being has ever loved God as He deserves to be loved, except his own Son.

The Lord commands us to love Him with all our heart, with all our mind and with all our soul.

No one has ever done it, except his Son – we are all lawbreakers, and all we receive from God is by grace alone, grace from the Lord who saved us from his own wrath by sacrificing his only Son in order to satisfy his justice.

God owes us nothing. If He was to give any of us what we deserve it would be death – the reward for sin.

Because that is all we deserve; we have broken every God’s Command.

But his love for us abounds so much that He sent his only begotten Son to die for us, “so that everyone who believes in Him may not die but have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

Christ died to save us from the wrath of God his Father and from his own wrath, for Christ the Son is God.

Without Christ no one can stand pure before the Almighty God.

Christ is the Only One who has pleaded and He continues to plead for us before his Father.

And everything good we receive from Him is simply graciously given by God; we do not deserve any of them.

We are to be thankful for the abundant and endless grace of God in our life, this grace that has been made possible by Christ alone and without which we are doomed.

All the good things we have comes from God; no one is, then, to boast about who they are nor about what they own.

In Jeremiah 9:23 “The Lord says, ‘The wise should not boast of their wisdom, nor the strong of their strength, nor the rich of their wealth. If anyone wants to boast, he should boast that he knows and understand Me, because my love is constant, and I do what is just and right.’”

Oftentimes we hear people boast about their wealth, their wisdom, their job and achievements in life.

The Lord has blessed us all with different gifts – all the good things people have are gifts from God and all the good things they achieve is by the grace of God alone. Because if the Lord does not provide us with the knowledge and skill we need, then we simply are a bunch of good for nothing.

On the other hand, many others are so bitter and ungrateful towards God, especially when they do not have what their sinful heart desires.

They want to be blessed with all kinds of things to meet their carnal desires.

They blame God for not being fair with them, as if He owes them something.

People need to keep in mind that all we have, the breath of life, the skill, the knowledge and all we possess are graciously given to us by the Lord our God.

So we are to honour the Lord our God with thanksgiving praises.

If people were to receive from God what they deserve, it would be nothing but death, the reward for sin.

The grace of God through his Son Jesus Christ is what sustains our existence.

We are nothing without God’s grace which is revealed to us in the person of his Son.

As the Apostle Paul points it out in his second epistle to Timothy, God “saved us and called us to be his own people, not because of what we have done, but because of his own purpose and grace. He gave us this grace by means of Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but now it has been revealed to us through the coming of our Saviour, Christ Jesus. He has ended the power of death and through the gospel has revealed immortal life.” (2 Timothy 1:9-10)

We should therefore express our gratitude to the Lord with thanksgiving praises and worship.

We should also take our part in the suffering of our Lord by witnessing for Him, as He has commissioned us to do.

And there is no better way to witness for our Lord than through our actions and faith.

We should seek his glory in all we do and in all we say, and our thoughts should also be pleasing to our Lord.

We owe Him everything, yet nothing to Him we bring.

And neither our praise nor our thanks can ever be enough to honour his grace – his grace for us is so abundant.

Christ is all we have: all things were created through Him and all creation will be brought back to God through Christ alone.

We need to acknowledge God and be thankful to Him for the grace He constantly lavishes upon us through his Son Jesus Christ.

There is not a day in our life where we do not sin.

But the good news is that Christ our Saviour has already paid the full price on the cross.

He paid for all our past sins and for all our present and future sins.

However, this does not mean that we should continue to live with a depraved mind and heart.

For we have been called in by Christ into the grace of his Father, and so we no longer live to please our flesh, but we live for Christ.

Sin must no longer control us, for we are new creatures in Christ; our new life is hidden with Christ in God.

People should stop treating as a cheap thing the blood of grace that set them free.

Many people have hardened their hearts and are full of hate for Christ – they are ungrateful, they blaspheme his name and reject his teaching; they persecute his church; they alter God’s word to suit their heart desires; they worship false gods; they pervert the natural use of their sex by unnatural acts, they replace the truth with lies.

As a result of their shameful perversion “they bring upon themselves the punishment they deserve for their wrongdoing.” (Romans 1:27)

By rejecting the Lord and his teaching they also reject their share of the grace which restores us into God’s glory. For the Lord Almighty says: “I will honour those who honour Me, and I will treat with contempt those who despise Me.” (1 Samuel 2:30)

So those who treat as a cheap thing the grace of God revealed to us in the person of his Son are under God’s judgement.

Such people have brought the wrath of God upon themselves; they have been given over to their wickedness, because of their rebellion against the Almighty God.

Those are the people the Apostle Paul talks about in Romans 1. It reads: “Because those people refuse to keep in mind the true knowledge about God, He has given them over to corrupted minds, so that they do the things that they should not do. They are filled with all kinds of wickedness, evil, greed, and vice; they are full of jealousy, murder, fighting, deceit, and malice. They gossip and speak evil of one another; they are hateful to God, insolent, proud, and boastful; they think of more ways to do evil; they disobey their parents; they have no conscience; they do not keep their promises, and they show no kindness or pity for others. They know that God’s law says that people who live in this way deserve death. Yet, not only do they continue to do these very things, but they even approve of others who do them.” (Romans 1:28-32)

We are to welcome the Lord’s teaching with a rejoicing heart, seek to please Him and live for his glory.

“God has revealed his grace for the salvation of the whole human race. That grace instructs us to give up ungodly living and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in this world, as we wait for the blessed Day we hope for, when the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ will appear. He gave himself for us, to rescue us from all wickedness and to make us a pure people who belong to Him alone and are eager to do good.” (Titus 2:11-14)

We must not continue to practice sin like those who belong to the world and who are driven by their carnal desires and passions.

We must welcome with a thankful heart the grace of God which has been revealed to us in the person of his Son.

We are to become new beings, transformed by the glorious power of the Holy Spirit.

We must be dead to sin but alive in Christ; the desires of our flesh must be put to death.

Such desires harden people’s hearts and sear their minds and they remain prisoners of their human nature.

We should honour the Lord, we should be thankful and faithful to Him – He bought us for the highest price and brought us into the grace of God the Father, not because we deserve it, but because He loves us and is merciful to us.

As the Apostle Paul points it out in his letter to God’s people in Ephesus, “God’s mercy is so abundant, and his love for us is so great, that while we were spiritually dead in our disobedience He brought us to life with Christ. It is by God’s grace that you have been saved. In our union with Christ Jesus He raised us up with Him to rule with Him in the Heavenly world. He did this to demonstrate for all time to come the extraordinary greatness of his grace in the love He showed us in Christ Jesus. For it is by God’s grace that you have been saved through faith. It is not the result of your own efforts, but God’s gift, so that no one can boast about it. God has made us what we are, and in our union with Christ Jesus He has created us for a life of good deeds, which He has already prepared for us to do.” (Ephesians 2:4-10)

So, it is more than important for us not to lose sight of the precious gift of God’s grace.

We are to keep our eyes focused on the cross of Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour, through whom God’s grace has been brought down to us.

Christ is all we have, the only way to eternal glory, the only fountain of God’s grace.

It is only through our faith in Christ and by God’s grace that we will be saved.

Those who act as if they deserve blessings from God instead of curse, because they think so highly of themselves will be disappointed.

The same thing will happen to those who consider themselves righteous and think that they will get to Heaven by their own efforts.

No human being can be justified before God by their own efforts and deeds.

“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23)

God’s grace is what holds us up – we are saved by God’s grace through our faith in Christ alone.

No human being is to think highly of themselves; we are to humble ourselves and give thanks to the Lord for his grace, mercy, love, righteousness and goodness to us.

We must also keep in mind that all these glorious gifts we receive from our Heavenly Father are revealed to us only in the person of Christ, the Son of God to whom glory belongs for ever and ever. Amen.

He died so that we may live, and so those who reject the Son simultaneously reject their share of God’s grace.

Therefore they cannot inherit the Kingdom of God; instead, they fall under God’s judgement.

We are nothing without God’s grace; no one can receive salvation except by God’s grace, through faith in Christ the Saviour.

Therefore, as the Scripture says, “Let us, then, hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we have a great High Priest who has gone into the very presence of God – Jesus, the Son of God. Let us have confidence, then, and approach God’s throne, where there is grace. There we will receive mercy and find grace to help us just when we need it.” (Hebrews 4:14,16)

By this grace we have been put right with God and will come into possession of the eternal life we hope for.

#understanding God's grace #be thankful to God #glorify God's name #glorify God's Spirit #glorify Christ #seek God's grace #we are saved by grace #graciousheaven #Gracious Lord #God's endless grace #abundant grace #sermon on grace #sermon

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