#mind you I don’t know much about cults and how they work I’ve only seen some a couple videos on the subject | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yamayuandadu · 1 day

Note

What is your opinion on the article "Mesopotamian or Iranian? A New Investigation on the Origin of the Goddess Anāhitā" by Alireza Qaderi?

He proposes that Anahita is possibly the syncretism of an Iranian Water goddess with Annunitum, and while it largely makes a lot of sense to me, especially with how it points out that we can't treat the Avesta as we know it as identical to the Avesta in Zarathustra's time, it also assumes the Central Asian goddess Ardokhsho comes from Aredvi Sura instead of Arti, and everything else I've seen just says Ardokhsho comes from Arti, although I haven't seen much literature on either deity tbh

Sorry it took me a few days to answer this ask even though it’s basically laser focused on my interests. I had some other stuff to read and unpleasant work duties to perform and couldn’t properly go through the recommended paper.

My feelings about the paper are mixed. I think anyone who remembers Annunitum was a distinct deity as early as in the late third millennium BCE deserves at least some credit. The notion of interchangeability of goddesses still haunts the field, fueled by Bible scholars, Helsinki hyperdiffusionists and the like. Overall the author shines in the sections dedicated only to the evaluation of the broadly Iranian material, but as soon as the focus switches to Mesopotamia things fall apart, sadly. More under the cut. Hope you don’t mind that I’ll also use this as an opportunity to talk about Annunitum in Sippar in general. I've been gathering sources to improve her wiki article further (don’t expect that any time soon though).

The Iranian material

Criticizing the vintage attempts at equating Anahita with Sarasvati is sound and sensible. Same with stressing that she is distinct from Nanaya and Oxus. The criticism of theories depending on lack of familiarity with the historical range of the beaver was a nice touch too, it demonstrates well that the author wanted to cover as much previous literature as possible. However, I also have no clue what’s up with “ΑΡΔΟΧΡΟ has an ambiguous relationship with Arədvī Sūrā”, I’ve also only ever seen this name explained as a derivative of Ashi/Arti save for a single paper trying to force a link to Oxus which was met with critical responses. It’s entirely possible this is an argument I simply haven’t seen though, I’m also not really familiar with this matter.

Overall the arguments against seeking Anahita’s origin in the east are perfectly sensible, and line up with the evidence well - no issues at all with this part of the paper. Following a more detailed list of Anahita’s easter attestations from Shenkar’s Intangible spirits and graven images. She appears on some Kushano-Sasanian coins, but this seems to reflect importing her from the west relatively late on since she appears in neither Kushan nor Bactrian sources. The coins are even exclusively inscribed in Middle Persian, with no trace of the local vernacular.

For unclear reasons Anahita caught on to a degree even further east in Sogdia, but attestations are limited to the period between fourth and sixth centuries. Since they’re largely just generic theophoric names, it is hard to call her anything but a minor deity of indeterminate character in this context, though. I’ve seen the argument that the popularity of Oxus in the east might have been the obstacle to introducing her. Oxus was a bigger deal in Bactria than in Sogdia so it could even explain why Sogdians were slightly more keen on her, arguably, even if they and Bactrians came into contact with her cult under similar circumstances.

Back to the article, the section dealing with the western attestations starts on a pretty strong note too. The need for reevaluation if it’s fair to talk about Achaemenid rulers as “Zoroastrian” is a mainstay of studies published over the past 10-15 years or so. I can’t weigh on the linguistic arguments because I know next to nothing about that.

I’m not sure if I follow the argument that it makes no sense Iranian population wouldn’t need a royal order to start worshipping a new deity as long as they were Iranian, tbh - linguistic or cultural affiliation doesn’t come prepackaged with automatically updated list of deities one is obliged to instantly adopt as soon as they pop up into existence. Following this logic, why didn’t Sargon’s Akkadian speaking subjects in Syria just adopt Ilaba before being obliged to do so? You will find literally hundreds of cases like this, it’s a very weird argument to me.

The Mesopotamian material

The biggest problems start once the coverage of Mesopotamia begins. The rigor evident in the strictly Iranian sections of the article just… vanishes and it’s incredibly weird. Herodotus as a source is… quite something. The phrase “ a goddess with a Semitic character” is… well, quite something too (Reallexikon generally advises against defining anything but languages as “Semitic” in Mesopotamian context - Mesopotamian is a perfectly fine label to use, and accounts for the fact that Sumerian, Hurrian and Kassite are not a part of the Semitic language family). It keeps repeating later and admittedly I’m not very fond of this. Especially when it pertains to the west of Iran, where deities originating in Mesopotamia were worshiped since the late third millennium BCE - they were more Elamite than Mesopotamian by the time Persians showed up, really. The matter is covered in detail in Wouter Henkelman’s Other Gods who Are with Adad in the Persepolis Fortification Archive as a case study.

Cybele was by no means Mesopotamian (with each new study she keeps becoming more strictly Phrygian, with earlier Anatolian, let alone Mesopotamian, influence becoming less and less likely) so I'm not sure what she's doing here, Nanaya’s associations with lions is almost definitely an Iranian innovation and not attested before the late first millennium BCE; despite earlier sound arguments against ascribing strictly Avestan Zoroastrian sensibilities to people in the late first millennium BCE, that’s basically what happens here. Lions were evidently viewed favorably by at least some Persians and especially Bactrians and Sogdians.

The less said about the part trying to link evidence from Palmyra to Inanna and Dumuzi (what does a marginal spouse deity like Dumuzi, entirely absent from Palmyra, have to do with Sabazius, a veritable pantheon head equated with Zeus?), the better. Frazerian bit, if I have to be honest.

I’m not sure about the enthusiasm for Boyce’s argument that it makes little sense for Anahita to simultaneously be a river goddess and to bestow victory in battle. The latter characteristic lines up well with her elevation to the position of a deity tied to investiture of kings, which in turn is something which boils down to personal preference of a given dynasty. The character of deities isn’t necessarily supposed to be one-dimensional and having distinct spheres of activity because of historical factors is hardly unusual.

Stressing that it’s not possible to treat Anahita and Ishtar as interchangeable is commendable. However, I don’t think it’s possible to claim continuity between the religious beliefs reflected in the relief of Anubanini and first millennium BCE Media. The argument is not pursued further, to be fair, but it’s still weird.

The next huge issue is the treatment of the late “Anu theology”. A good recent overview of this matter can be found in Krul’s 2018 monograph (shared by the author herself here).

For starters, it’s completely baffling to declare Anu had no spouse at first; Urash and Ki are both attested in the Early Dynastic period already - and the former appears reasonably commonly in this role in literary texts and god lists. Even Antu might already be present in the Abu Salabikh list.

Attributing Inanna prominence in Uruk and in the Eanna in particular to identification with Antu is utterly nightmarish and one of the worst Inanna takes I’ve ever seen; the fact it’s contradicted by information of the same page makes it pretty funny, admittedly. Inanna’s ties to the city go back literally to the beginning of recorded history (some of the oldest texts in the world are demands aimed at cities under the control of Uruk to provide offerings for Inanna ffs), and probably even further back. Meanwhile, Anu for most of his history was an abstract hardly worshiped deity; Krul stresses this in the beginning of her book linked above. I’m not a fan of ancient matriarchy takes which are often lurking in the background when the cases of earliest city goddesses like Inanna, Nisaba and Nanshe are discussed but I do think the need to downplay Inanna’s prominence and elevate Anu which pops up every few years in scholarship is suspect and probably motivated by sexism, consciously or not, tbh.

Trying to make the “Anu theology” which developed in the late first millennium BCE an influence on the entirety of Mesopotamia and beyond is puzzling. Sabazius appearing in Palmyra with a spouse is tied to Anu, somehow? The fact that deities had spouses is? Atargatis ties into this somehow? I’m sorry, but I’m not following. Also, Uruk was no longer a theological center of the Mesopotamian world in the first millennium BCE. Babylon was, and before that Nippur. There is no need to speculate, there are thousands of texts to back it up. The late sources from Uruk in particular show that Babylon was somewhat forcefully influencing the city, not the other way around.

The Anu theology was a display of local “nationalism” of Uruk and had a very limited impact. There is evidence for some degree of late theological cooperation between Uruk and Nippur, and possibly Der as well (Der itself despite being located with certainty has yet to be excavated, though, so caution is necessary), but nothing of this sort is to be found in the late sources from other locations.

Annunitum = Anahita?

Finally, let’s look at the core idea behind the article.

Right off the bat I feel it’s necessary to stress Annunitum generally wasn’t regarded as an astral deity. In the Old Babylonian period, the Venus role was evidently handled by Ninsianna in Sippar; later on they aren’t even attested there but the regular Ishtar is. Seems doubtful it would actually be Annunitum who got to be an astral deity there at any point in time.

This claim is also highly dubious. There is no evidence that Antu was ever worshiped in Sippar, let alone that she was equated there with Annunitum; she doesn’t show up at all in Jennie Myers’ 2002 thesis The Sippar pantheon: a diachronic study. Paul-Alain Beaulieu stresses her lack of importance all across Mesopotamia save for first millennium BCE Uruk here. There is also no evidence that the late Anu theology impacted Sippar in any capacity. Shamash retained his position in the city until the death of cuneiform. Even in Uruk, Annunitum in the late sources appears only in association with Ishtar and Nanaya, not Anu and Antu. I will repeat how I feel about the need to assert Anu’s importance where there is no trace of it. Overall it feels like unrelated Mesopotamian and adjacent sources from different areas and time periods are used indiscriminately; which is ironically the criticism employed in the article wrt the treatment of Iranian textual sources by other researchers. The Assyriological sources employed leave a bit to be desired, too. In particular Abusch’s Ishtar entry in the Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible is a nightmare (he’s good when he covers incantations but his broader “theological” proposals are… quite something), here are some quotes from it to show how awful it is is a central point of reference:

Of the other authors cited, Jacobsen is Jacobsen and a lot changed since the 1960s. Roberts was criticized right after his study was published by researchers like Aage Westenholz. Langdon’s study from the early 1900s is an outdated nightmare, I guess we know what’s up with the Dumuzi hot takes now. Beaulieu is great but his papers and monographs aren’t really utilized to any meaningful extent, I feel.

Other criticisms aside, I’m unsure if Annunitum was important enough in the fifth century BCE to be noticed by Artaxerxes II as postulated here, especially since Shamash was right next door and definitely retained some degree of prominence. Most if not all cases of Mesopotamian deities influencing Persian or broader Iranian tradition reflect widespread cults of popular deities - Nanaya, Nabu (via influence on Tishtrya), Nergal (in the west, around Harran) - as opposed to a b-list strictly local deity. And it’s really hard to refer to Annunitum differently. Let’s take a quick look at her position in the twin cities of Sippar - as far as I am aware, the most recent treatment of this matter is still Myers’ thesis, and that’s what I will rely on here.

Annunitum is first attested in Sippar in the Old Babylonian period, during the reign of Sabium, though as a deity already locally major enough to appear in an oath formula alongside Shamash. In the Early Dynastic period Sippar-Amnanum was likely associated with an enigmatic figure designated by the logogram ÉREN+X who doesn’t seem to be related to her. When and how exactly the tutelary deity change occurred is not presently possible to determine and admittedly of no real relevance here.

Evidently Annunitum’s cult in Sippar was influenced to some degree by the Sargonic tradition she originated in, her temple was even called Eulmaš just like that in Akkad. It’s not impossible it was even originally founded by one of the members of the Sargonic dynasty, but in absence of pre-OB evidence caution is necessary. There is no shortage of later rulers who wanted to partake in the Sargonic legacy, after all. By the earliest documented times, it was the second most important temple in the Sippar agglomeration, and the only one beside the Ebabbar to have its own administrative structure. Annunitum was even referred to as the “queen of Sippar” (Šarrat Sippar; note that by the Neo-Babylonian period this title came to function as a distinct goddess, though). In Sippar-Amnanum there was a street, a gate and a canal named after her. A bit over 6% of the inhabitants of both cities bore theophoric names invoking her, also. Sippar-Amnanum was abandoned for some 200 years after the reign of Ammi-saduqa, but it seems the clergy simply moved to the other Sippar next door. Next few centuries are very sparsely documented at this site, but supposedly Shagarakti-Shuriash rebuilt Annunitum’s temple (the matter is discussed in detail here).

Inscriptions of Tiglath-pileser I dealing with the conquest of northern Babylonia affirm that Annunitum continued to be viewed as the goddess of Sippar through the Neo-Assyrian period. According to an inscription of Nabonidus her temple, and Sippar-Amnanum as a whole, were razed by Sennacherib (he also blames “Gutians” for it though by then this is a label as generic as “barbarian”). This might be why her cult had to be relocated to the other part of Sippar again. In the Neo-Babylonian period it returned to Sippar-Amnanum under Neriglissar, though her temple was only rebuilt by Nabonidus. It survived at least until the reign of Darius, though it was only a small sanctuary (É.KUR.RA.MEŠ) like those of Adad and Gula.

There is very little evidence for popular worship of her so late on: only two theophoric names have been identified…. For comparison, Shamash appears in 208 (out of 823 theophoric names, out of a total of 1243 total). Nergal, Gula, Adad and even Amurru are all more common. Aya is also absent, but unlike Annunitum despite her prominence in earlier periods she was actually never common in theophoric names, save for the names of naditu; and naditu ceased to be a thing after the OB period.

Offering lists complicate the matter further. From the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, Annunitum started to lose ground to a duo introduced from Dur-Kurigalzu: a manifestation of Nanaya associated with this city and Ishtar-tashme. Why they suddenly appeared in Sippar and why they overshadowed Annunitum is uncertain, perhaps Dur-Kurigalzu just failed to recover from decline after the end of the Kassite period and eventually the decision was made to start transferring local deities to other nearby major urban centers. The process reversed during the reign of Nabonidus, who ordered an increase in offerings made to her. This might’ve been motivated by his general concern for Sin and any deities considered members of his immediate family - essentially, a display of personal devotion. This elevation is still evident in offering lists from the reign of Cyrus, though.

Overall the paper is quite convincing - outstanding, even - when it comes to the Iranian material alone, and between mediocre and nightmarish once the author shifts to Mesopotamia.

#mesopotamian miscellanea #hinadoll39

19 notes · View notes

ccthewriter · 1 year

Text

CC’s Top 10 New Watch Ranking - November 2022

It’s an exciting day for movie lists! The Sight & Sound Top 100 has dropped, everyone’s pouring over the details, and I thought I’d share my own equally famous and important list. Not my personal Sight and Sound - I’ve only seen 45% of this decade’s S&S, so am woefully underinformed to make such a judgement. But, whatever I’ve seen in the last 30 days? That I can do.

Every month on Letterboxd, I make a list of the 10 best films I’ve seen for the first time. It’s a fun way to compare movies separated in time, country of origin, and genre, and helps me keep track of what I’m watching! The accidental theme of this month has been Journeys Into Underground Worlds, whether that’s crime, cults, or supernatural realms! Click below to see the breakdown! Click here for the list on LB!

#10 - Lair of the White Worm 1988. Director: Ken Russell

A pulpy, erotically charged horror movie starring a baby-faced Hugh Grant and Peter Capaldi. Amanda Donohoe is a centuries-old priestess of a snake god that needs human sacrifices, and frankly, I volunteer as tribute. This embodies all the things I like most about high camp horror - a thin plot, corn-syrup gore, a practical effects monster, and visually striking low-budget dreamscapes. The vision shown in this gif is an incredible high point of the film, just absurd 80′s video editing using all its tricks. Recommended for anyone who loves Evil Dead 2 or the scarier episodes of Doctor Who.

#9 - Sullivan’s Travels 1941. Director: Preston Sturges

An out-of-touch movie director pretends to be homeless to make his next film more ‘real,’ while the studio sends a crew to follow him to make sure he doesn’t get into trouble. He ditches them, and experiences the true injustice and harm that he had been fantasizing about all along. Like that director this movie feels out of touch for much of its run time, until the last act when the main character faces some *really real* injustice at the hands of the carceral system. That’s what elevates this from a mild comedy into something really special. A parody of a studio system that barely exists anymore - imagine executives shaking a writer down, begging to pay him - but still feels relevant in the way that some people can simply stop existing if they’re handed over to the uncaring police state.

#8 - Out of the Fog 1941. Director: Anatole Litvak

A noir-tinged parable about how fascist bullies can take control of your lives if you don’t stop them. Two immigrant Brooklynites dream of buying a fishing boat and sailing to Cuba, but a racketeer shakes them down at the pier for ‘protection money,’ threatening the life of one of their daughters, who has fallen for his strongarmed charm. This war-time film was an argument by the director in favor of the US entering WWII, showing how the threat of fascism wasn’t just a European problem. Anyone, anywhere, is susceptible to a thick-fisted jerk who sells dreams of power to the weak, and an ever-escalating use of violence to take everything from people who just want to keep their heads down. Incredible for its ending, where - spoilers - the two men effectively murder the racketeer, and everyone they know agree to bury the crime because they know he’s better off dead. Talk about community action!

#7 - Doctor Sleep 2019. Director: Mike Flanagan

I loved Midnight Mass so much, so was excited when my favorite movie podcast gave me an excuse to watch this film. I rewatched The Shining last month as part of a Kubrick filmography run, so my mind was primed for everything this movie had to offer. Though a sequel to The Shining feels unnecessary on paper, Flanagan managed to find wonderful new layers to explore in the original film’s premise, marrying Kubrick’s nightmarish reality with King’s original intention for the work. What is the responsibility of traumatized people? In a cruel world, do you keep perpetuating harm, do you run away and numb yourself, or do you - miraculously, heroically - find a way to end the cycles of violence wherever you can? Incredible performances all around. Rebecca Ferguson is also in this month’s micro-theme of Very Evil Women Are Allowed To Kill Me. I can’t wait to see what Kyliegh Curran does with the rest of her career.

#6 - Brute Force 1947. Director: Jules Dassin

A movie that feels like The Shawshank Redemption until its brutal, tragic end. A demonstration of the banality of the prison system and how it is a breeding ground for pain and arbitrary violence. I thought a lot about Andor while watching this - both are examples of a collective forming a rebellion. Both have tragic ends for some of their central characters, but give a feeling of hope that success and victory are possible. That the revolution will win out. Andor is the inception of a revolution that we know will win - the Force will indeed awaken - but Brute Force leaves an air of melancholy as you recognize that the struggle these prisoners face is something we’re still dealing with today. The system has only gotten crueler since this movie was made. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be changed.

#5 - Eyes Wide Shut 1999. Director: Stanley Kubrick

A movie I’ve often wondered and fantasized about because of its raunchy, taboo reputation. It really moves me how a film with so much sex and erotic content can ultimately leave the viewer feeling drained of any sensuality. From my LB review: “Queerness can't just be a mission to conform 'outsiders' to the mainstream. It must destroy the thing that controls us all! I'm so interested in the way the masked orgy-goers kiss - an imitation of intimacy without connection, without the actual nerve-tingling *sensation* of locking lips. Their secrecy, immovable and grand, must be maintained above all else. Pleasure must be obtained through this barrier that conceals the self. God, the straights have it bad. Even in their most elaborate fantasies they just can't let go. They've always got to look over their shoulder, in case someone realizes they're just as perverted and human as the rest.”

#4 - Michael Clayton 2007. Director: Tony Gilroy

Another film that’s been on my list for a long time! With Tony Gilroy proving himself a genius in the TV sphere, like Mike Flanagan, I wanted to turn to one of his films to see what he’s got there. This didn’t disappoint. Michael Clayton is a seedy corporate fixer sent to save a huge case from being ruined by the lead attorney, whose doubts are arising out of a psychotic breakdown. It’s just fucking *fun.* Someone in the group I was watching this with said that Gilroy nails the perfect balance between effective and flowery dialogue. His characters ramble, speaking outside any sort of naturalism, but it never feels stagey. They’re people stuck in grand, outlandish circumstances, and their speech rises up to match the stakes of their surroundings. This movie has one of the most satisfying endings in movie history. I adore the end credits that just track on Clooney’s face - it’s a great demonstration of what a good actor he is. You can see everything he’s thinking in the small motions of his eyes.

#3 - Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery 2022. Director: Rian Johnson

Benoit Blanc is back, baybeee! I love a good whodunnit, and Rian Johnson is proving himself to be the master of this genre in the modern age. Knives Out is one of my favorite movies, and I’m pleased to report that the latest entry in this series is just as satisfying as the first. I want Johnson to make as many of these as he wants, forever. My movie circle has made a lot of noise about the things this film has repeated from the original. I think 2 films is too early to say what the pattern for “A Knives Out Mystery” is going to be, but I hope the essence stays the same. An incredible cast, a colorful setting, and the relatively blank character of Benoit Blanc taking a backseat to let the ensemble shine. Oh, and the hyper-wealthy suffering under the weight of their own greed! That’s good, too. I’ve read about 35 Agatha Christie novels this year, and Johnson has found some of these essential ingredients that made her works so compelling, too.

#2 - Sweet Smell of Success 1957. Director: Alexander Mackendrick

If there were an award for ‘Most One-Liners In A Motion Picture,’ this one would win, hands-down. I watched this while visiting my dad, who is a kind of passive movie fan and not often interested in films this old - but after just a few minutes of dialogue, he sat down and got sucked in. Sidney Falco is a press agent looking to score big by sucking up to J. J. Hunsecker, a manipulative narcissist who runs the biggest column in town. All Sidney has to do is break up the relationship JJ’s sister is striking up with a jazz guitarist. Through the glamor, glitz, and grime of late 50′s Broadway, this spirals into an immensely satisfying tale of ruthless ambition. The writing is phenomenal, the essence of New York is captured like nothing else, and JJ proves to be one of cinema’s most memorable villains. You can jump to any point in this movie and get one of the zingiest lines you’ve ever heard. A personal favorite: “If you’re funny, Walter, I’m a pretzel!”

#1 - Labyrinth 1986. Director: Jim Henson

Somehow I had never seen this???? I can’t believe it either. The composite ingredients of this work - the fantasy, escapism, puppetry, fairy lore, danger, design - are all things I have loved from a very early age, and this *feels* like something I would have loved as a kid. Maybe that’s the power of this work - it speaks to a childish part of us that yearns to escape into fantasy, that wants to make cruel oaths to those we love, but knows the epic consequences of what would happen if we did. The journey we would have to go on to repair the hurt caused. I was lucky enough to go to the Henson exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image last month and saw some of these costumes in person. They are so richly designed. Every last inch of this frame is dripping with precision, from the fish-eyed lens to the mixed fabrics that makes each puppet come to life. Just like fantasy drawings often use inks, charcoals, and paints to create a textured image, these puppets are made from a variety of fabrics, metals, and other materials to make them seem organic and real. It’s an incredible feat. Jennifer Connelly embodies such a precise moment of youth, too. The very first steps out of childhood and into the passionate teenage years, where all the consequences of your actions seem massive and the weight of responsibility is dawning. This is a truly unique dreamworld. How lucky we are to have had a visionary like Henson create something like this. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thank you for reading! If you liked any of these thoughts feel free to follow me on Letterboxd, where I post reviews and keep meticulous track of every movie I watch. Look forward to more posts like these next month!

#CC OC #Letterboxd #New Watch Ranking #movies #film #labyrinth #sweet smell of success #Glass Onion #Michael Clayton #Eyes Wide Shut #Brute Force #Doctor Sleep #Out of the Fog #Sullivan's Travels #The Lair of the White Worm #text #monthly ranking #list

12 notes · View notes

calzonekestis · 2 years

Text

So apparently we’re all supposed to think Grace isn’t talented and only gets roles because her dad and great grandfather are/were also actors and it’s all industry nepotism?

Never mind the fact the movie that was intended to be her dad’s big break under performed in theaters, instead becoming a cult classic? Her dad is a talented actor, but he’s a working man’s actor. That’s part of his charm. He also got badly injured while filming Starship Troopers, making it harder for him to become the action star he was poised to be. It made him less picky with the roles he took and went out for, because unless you’re a big movie star actor or attached to a franchise - actors are living paycheck to paycheck.

That’s why so many working actors do tv or direct to DVD movies, because they don’t put their egos above providing for their families.

Does nepotism exist? Sure it does. People get roles because they know someone, or their friends with someone. A lot of the time you have directors with their own little troupe of actors they always write parts for - like a Nolan or a Scorsese

I’ve liked Grace’s dad in things I’ve seen him in, so I mean him no disrespect - but I don’t think he’s one of those actors. I don’t think people cast her because of who he is, or he great grandfather was. I’m sure she’s proud to continue to follow in their footsteps, but she’s her own person - and frankly it’s insulting to imply she wasn’t cast as Chrissy based on her own merit and talent.

Like. I love Maya Hawke. I think she’s a really cool person, and I do think she’s talented. I don’t think she got the part of Robin because of her parents, I think she also got it on her own merit.

If someone had to ask me though, who was more likely to be cast on the show because of who their parents are? I’m going with the one who’s the daughter of Uma Thurman and Ethan Hawke. If people are going to show nepotism to anyone, it’s the one whose parents each have Academy Award nominations.

Again, that’s no disrespect intended towards Grace’s father, nor towards Maya, I believe she got the part due to her own talent. I believe the same can be said for Grace.

I don’t know if the two got to hang out at all behind the scenes, to talk about the assumptions that come with being from a family of actors and how people take you less seriously/think you’re less deserving of being there... but Maya’s mom - it’s well known now - was also seriously injured while doing her own stunts.

So to see the fandom regard the two so differently - when they actually have a lot in common...

I wonder why Grace has gotten so much cruelty when I’ve never once ever seen any towards Maya.

Could it be because Maya’s character is gay, and thus isn’t a threat to a potential relationship between the pretty white boys defined by their hair? Could that be it? Cause last time I checked, Chrissy, tragically, is dead. So she shouldn’t be a threat either. I wonder what else it could be.

Gee whiz, I‘m stumped.

#grace van dien #chrissy cunningham #maya hawke #robin buckley #stranger things

25 notes · View notes

eldritchazure · 1 year

Text

i have a surak-era oc who i’m gonna ramble about here from time to time.

he’s from t’paal because i’m Fascinated by that region for some reason. i really wish there was more info on it but alas. i’ll have to make shit up as i go. he was born in one of the enclaves but i’m thinking he was raised in a temple of akraana there.

(people don’t know what the goddess akraana presided over, only that she was the wife(?) of the war god khosarr, so i’m gonna make things up. i’m thinking she was some kind of goddess of magic, prophecy, and art because it’s convenient and also cool. also since one of the enclaves where her disciples lived is now an artists’ enclave so it works. her worshippers were kinda like a mystery cult, similar to the cult of despoina, hence why people don’t know what her deal was today. sorry for the info dump, i find this kind of thing REALLY interesting so i think about it A Lot.)

so this guy was a disciple of akraana and raised in one of her temples. the reason why he was sent there as a child was because he had these “visions” of the past and the future. the actual reason for the “visions” was that his mind was frequently temporally displaced. not permanently or constantly like spock’s was in disco, but it kind of came and went? like he’d be going about his day and then all of a sudden BAM there’s gonna be a horrible famine here At Some Point in the Near Future. or BAM someone was murdered horrifically at this spot A Very Long Time Ago. or someone was born at this spot and a lot of people were full of joy about it A Very Long Time Ago. he couldn’t tell when exactly things happened/would happen, only vague impressions. this is why he was dropped off at the temple by his parents. they didn’t know how to deal with the visions and figured the temple people might. is this logical or at all responsible parenting? definitely not. but i’m thinking the visions put great mental strain on him and by extension his parents through the familial bonds so maybe sending him to live with the people who specialized in that kind of thing would be able to take care of him better. whether or not that’s true remains to be seen.

i have no idea how the temporal displacement happened, or why it isn’t like how spock’s was. at this point it’s plot convenience. idk maybe it’s some weirdo space entity?? idk idk. anywho he mistook the weirdo space entity for akraana (or maybe it was akraana. who knows. ANYWAY.)

so yeah he gets these visions. maybe they slowly drive him a little mad? i don’t know!! i’ll figure it out, or maybe i won’t. but yeah he gets visions and then writes them down in a bunch of notebooks over his life. he doesn’t know what most modern things are so they’re written through a kind of fantastical/mythological lens. he predicts different wars with aliens but he doesn’t know they’re aliens so he calls them like, demons or spirits or whatever. even technology that could be found at that time he probably didn’t know about, because i’m imagining that the temple/area he was raised in was one of the ones that was generally against technology. so if he were to predict the radiation from the nuclear weapons being used at the time, people wouldn’t know what he meant until it was happening.

eventually the notebooks are found and now they’re in a museum somewhere displaying the history of the region. most historians dismiss his prophecies as the ramblings of a madman but those who look closely enough do admit it is somewhat eerie how they seem to mirror a lot of big historical events.

for example, a ship full of vengeful demons wearing the faces of vulcans emerging from a portal, who will consume t’khasi from the inside out.

anywho. at the moment his name is tova. this is subject to change. his story is pretty barebones at the moment and is little more than a concept that i’ve written out here in a very long winded post. i’ll probably flesh it out some more, add some much needed Drama and probably a healthy serving of Angst, as you do.

#pre-surak times #the time of surak #the timeline is a little wishy washy rn #he was alive at the same time as surak but was born before surak started his logic campaign #i’m thinking tova probably dies young. like twenties young.#either because of temporal displacement related reasons or civil war related reasons #or maybe he doesn’t!! maybe he gets old and grey #or there’s time travel shenanigans #i haven’t decided yet #anywho #sorry for the really long winded post full of me getting side tracked repeatedly #vulcan history #vulcans #star trek aos #star trek #tova

4 notes · View notes

scalesandrhubarb · 1 year

Text

Cull and Void

Harli sighs to himself as he looks at the massive structure that used to be the imperial palace, the entire reason he's been stuck in this cold landscape for the past couple of months. What an awful and hideous sight. A whisper runs through his mind before the Au Ra can dwell on the thought too much and he snorts out a laugh. Yeah. Business here should be finished soon...or at least as much as it can be. He hears footsteps, light against the cobblestone. Harli smiles upon seeing a familiar woman's approach, someone he would consider a friend. Albeit a mysterious one. "Well, ain't ya a sight fer sore eyes, Miss Tessa. A bright n' gorgeous spark among all this gray."

"I haven't even done anything flashy yet." She smirks with a shrug.

The masked man laughs. Even though the Au Ra looks like he's been run ragged, he seems to be genuinely happy to see Tessa. "Ha! Don't need to be doin' anythin' flashy. Thanks for meetin' me out here though. It's been a bit...well, reconnaissance hasn't been exactly ideal as of late."

"Not a problem.. so, you've been having trouble getting info?"

"Somethin' like that," Harli says, grimacing behind his mask. "It's less about info and more of...gettin' in there." He turns slightly and points to the looming structure in the distance. "Do ya know what that is, Miss Tessa?"

"I don't think it's hard to guess."

"Well, if you guessed the imperial palace you would be correct...what's left of it anyway." He turns to look at the smaller woman, though his gaze drops more than expected. An appreciative whistle runs through his head. Dammit Letale. Harli clears his throat. "While recent months have seen the place cleared out, unfortunately it is still prone to rifts."

"I see.. and that's what you're primarily looking to deal with?" She either doesn't seem to notice his wandering gaze, or doesn't seem to mind.

"It's what the company was contracted for, yes. At first the Alliance crew wanted to confirm that there wasn't any cult activity going on or the like, but there doesn't seem to be in this case. I mean--look at the energy emanating from that thing. Practically a playground for voidsent activity."

"That.. does seem apparent at a glance, yeah. So the dilemma at this point is just getting in..?" She crosses her arms, contemplating the location.

The masked man nods. "I've made some headway with the Alliance but more voidsent keep poppin’ up. There's a facility as near the palace they can get--helps keep things over there not so dire." He sighs. "At this point we'll need to fight our way through and close the rift."

"Seems straightforward enough.. I assume you're confident enough?" Tessa looks him up and down.

"In fighting through? I'll manage," Harli says with a laugh. "Just didn't have the go ahead until yesterday. Permission and all that." A whisper runs through his head and he smiles behind his mask. "How about you? How do you feel about cutting down some voidsent?"

"Not a problem." She responds casually. She judges him.. as tall.

"Well, that's good enough for me!" He seems pretty merry for someone intending to fight his way through who knows how many voidsent. All to close up a rift. Harli doesn't question her ability, listening to his gut instinct. "Between you, me, and Letale...things should be pretty good! And then that smarmy viera won't yell my horns off."

"Sounds like you have a few friends I haven't met.. are some of them joining us then?"

The taller Au Ra blinks rapidly. To be fair, the only people that know about Letale are Ravent, the bright one, and Little Blue. His work partner, a sin eater, and the closest he has to family. "Not sure you'll ever really meet her but she'll be with us every step of the way." If Tessa could see aether then maybe she'd notice something about Harli's aether. It's a nice deep blue but there is another entwined with it that isn't his own. Purple. "Not sure how much you know about reapers, but I have a contract with one voidsent in particular. Her name is Letale." A pain in the ass sometimes but one he is fond of. He pats his chest as he looks at Tessa, trying not to let himself get distracted by the beauty.

"Ahh, that explains it well enough. Seems reliable enough!" She nods, putting her hands on her hips with an energetic bounce.

"...Right." He averts his gaze, clearing his throat as snickers flit through his mind. "She's a doozy. Letale wants you to know she…appreciates." What exactly about he doesn't elaborate on but the voidsent is thrumming with approval. "Anyway, it may be a bit of a detour because of all the snow but I can give you a ride on my bike."

"If you wanna give me a ride, I'm not gonna complain. I'm happy to hear she appreciates tho!"

Harli definitely meant his motorbike in this case. "I'd be happy to," he says with a laugh. "Come on, we'll get going then. I already have the papers we'll need to get inside the facility." The Alliance patrol is familiar with him by now but the papers were merely a formality.

"Lead the way." Tessa definitely meant something, probably.

Harli huffs as they clear out the area, having fought through what seemed to be wave after wave of voidsent. It would only be a matter of time before more stood in their path. However, he would be thankful for the breather. "Shite...no wonder they didn't want me goin’ in by myself. Knew it was bad from reconnaissance but…" He straightens up and winces, clutching his side for a moment before looking at Tessa, eyes roaming to check on her. "You alright, Miss Tessa?"

She bounces back into place after another dynamic jump, standing and swiping her spear to flick remains off the end of it. "I'm doing fine, how about you?"

"Heh...you're quite agile," Harli comments, grinning at his companion and leaning against his scythe. "Got nicked by one of 'em but doesn't seem to be too bad." He scans the area and lets out a low whistle upon seeing the remnants of the two person battle against the stream of voidsent. The Au Ra makes a mental note to disperse the lingering energy. He needed to do the job right after all. "We’re headed in the right direction at least. We must be close...wasn't nearly as bad back there."

"That does seem to be the case.. you good to keep going?" She hopped in place a bit, readying herself like this was just more exercise.

"Yeah, I'm...good." He admires Tessa’s form but shakes his head to clear it. Can't lose focus now. Even if the one beside him was a marvel both in and out of battle. "Letale says it won’t be long before we reach the rift. May as well get this over with."

"Sounds good to me!"

The Au Ra stretches to get the kinks out of his system, cataloging anything else that may be wrong. There doesn't seem to be much except some bruising. Ah well. Next time he’ll better protect himself. Hopefully. "Alright, gorgeous. Time to close that rift." He starts running off in the direction he and Letale are getting atrocious vibes from.

A low whistle leaves Harli’s lips once he spots the swirling mass of void energy. Looming and ominous, a jagged looking portal sits in the center. "Well, would ya look at that? No wonder there's voidsent crawlin' all over the place." He scans the area, spotting all sorts of creepy things. The hells are those on the walls? "Not gonna lie, this place gives me the heebies and I've been to lotsa places for my missions...but this is pretty up there in my 'would not come again' list. And I thought back there was unsettlin’." Even though he says all of that, there's still some merriment in his tone.

"So, you have a plan for dealing with it then?"

"Plan, yes. Execution? Well..." He props the staff of his scythe on his shoulder. "That all depends on gettin’ through to the portal, an' from the looks of it we're not gettin' there scot free." The masked man nods to the rift, more voidsent crawling out of it even as if they speak. There's one in particular making its way through, towering over all the others. A gruesome looking red and purple creature with distorted features. "...Suppose you won't mind helpin' out with that one while I use this lil' doohickey I got? Alchemists truly are somethin' else..."

"Fun looking guy.. I can probably do something about that."

The Au Ra grins brightly behind his mask. "I'll help out once I've got the rift closed. That is if you don't fell 'im first." He laughs, expressing enjoyment despite the situation they're in. Tessa has fared well so far and for all he knows she could very well have the brute dealt with before he finishes.

"Who knows~" She's mostly been sticking to traditional combat so far.. but that doesn't mean she isn't gonna add some extra weight to jumping on the big guy's head.

"Doesn't mean ya get to have all the fun though, gorgeous," Harli says, laughing as he turns his gaze from the small woman to the mass of voidsent that are already charging towards them. "Gotta get over there first after all!" And with that he summons his avatar and speeds off, using a small portal to dash forward and throw a bolt of blue and purple energy at whatever unfortunate creature stands in his path. A distorted laugh can be heard as Harli swings his scythe before the spell can land, a sickening crunch and splatter following the echoes of his merriment.

"C'mon, just a little more, Letale…you remember what we were told," Harli mutters encouragingly. He huffs out a laugh upon hearing a snarky response drift through his head. "...Yeah. Don't worry, you'll get your payment." The Au Ra pulls the little gadget out, an odd looking but large talisman really, and starts channeling aether into it. The aether of two beings. "How ya doin', Miss Tessa?" he calls out over his shoulder, wishing the process to go along quickly before more creatures swarm them.

"I think his neck might still wo- oh, not anymore."

Harli lets out a startled laugh, having heard an audible snapping sound behind him. However, he doesn't take the time to look at the havoc the small woman wreaks. "Golly, Miss Tessa...remind me not to piss you off!" He shakes his head in amusement and puts an extra boost into the aether he's channeling. It doesn't take long before the edges of the rift start to stretch inwards. "Easy does it..."

Tessa shrugs with a slight giggle, swinging her lance to take out another smaller enemy in her peripheral, not even really stopping to look at it.

Wisps of the dark energy get sucked into the crystals embedded in the talisman, the runes engraved on it glowing brightly. The masked man murmurs a chant Ravent had told him to use, seeing the signs of a closing rift the viera told him to look out for. He keeps going, determined to get the job done. It takes a few more moments, and just as Harli feels the rift shift warningly, it fully closes. "Ah! Well then...that does i--" Letale whispers a warning and Harli blinks before leaping backwards to avoid a voidsent swiping at him. "C'mon, can't a guy celebrate in peace?" The last word is emphasized as he cuts the creature down.

Tessa laughs. "Looks like you'll have to make a point to celebrate elsewhere." With everything wrapped up, she walks up to him, hands on her hips, chest puffed up a bit proudly with a smug look on her face.

Harli's limbal rings flare with light as he scans to see if the void energy is truly gone. Yes. Mission complete. Well, once they head back and give the all clear that is. Only when he's sure does he turn to look at Tessa. "Is that so?" he says with a laugh. Just for a moment does Harli allow himself to admire the smaller woman, someone that hadn’t seemed phased by anything that occurred in the ghastly halls. He blinks and looks around at the carnage, letting out a low whistle. "Damn, gorgeous...nice work."

She just looks him in the eye, looking even more smug now. "Yeah, I think so. You have anything else to wrap up for this?"

The Au Ra blinks upon seeing Tessa's expression. "Ah..." He clicks a spot on his scythe and it folds before he rests the snath on his shoulder. "Well, we--or at least I'll--have to give a verbal report to one of the officers at the camp. After that, I’ll have to give a report to Ravent so he can make everything official...but that part can wait ‘til mornin’. We should disperse the lingerin’ energy on our way back though.” Can’t forget that. A grin forms behind Harli’s mask and he looks around one more time before nodding to himself. “Alright, almost done and then we can leave this place behind!” Good riddance. However, he knows in his heart that as long as the former palace stays in the current state…he will likely return.

Taken from a private RP that occurred on April 23, 2023.

Thank you to Tessa!

0 notes

wmarximoff · 1 year

Note

Oh my god, 🤭 lmao! I’m sure you’re a great kisser. I honestly, didn’t even question it. It’s okay, we can be overthinkers together (one of the main reasons I can’t get to sleep 😪). For sure, if you can sit through it then what the hell, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen them all as well.

You do? Oh, you poor soul. 🤭 I don’t even know where to start, how does one even go about something like this? 🤔 (Oh no, don’t you dare… that’s the lowest blow of them all! 🫠 There you go again — mutual… it’s so mutual. 😩)

I suppose, but my plans were interrupted :( don’t tell anyone… but I’m thinking about sneaking off to bed to avoid my responsibilities. 🫣 Wait… just hold on, a walk at like three or four in the morning… by yourself? Forgive my paranoia but, like, are you trying to get murdered? 🤭 Curing boredom, maybe… uh, sleep? I know it’s the weekend and all — I’m a little jealous it’s only just Saturday where you are, my days go so much quicker — I’d like to be a day behind.

Sounds similar… my spotify is so neglected and I still need to listen to your DFTR playlist but I’m a procrastinator.

Kisses through the phone I can definitely do. 😘💗 Kisses sent, waiting on delivery. You’re very welcome!

Yep, no, definitely not a brat by any means. Of course you can’t I’m such a good girl most of the time and it just never happens.😌 Obviously. Not on here, not yet, no. I have some ideas floating around though.

You have a theory? I don’t know what else I can tell you, I’ve given you so much to work with already.

-🌸

I'm paranoid to the point of questioning myself right now if I'm really a good kisser. Maybe my entire life people have lied to me. And like, how could I even know about that? So many thoughts to think about right now, what the fuck. So yeah, let's be overthinkers together LMAO. Every time I have an identity crisis I'll cry in your lap.

Oh, I'm all about sneaking off to bed to avoid my responsibilities. We could just leave everything behind and go live in the woods for all I care (and it reminds me of my jokes about thayblossom and us being cult leaders… but on second thought I'd look good in a white dress in a self-sustaining community telling people that modern society is doomed, and i'm sure you would look so pretty in a white dress… not that i'm telling you to marry me haha 🤪). Well… in my defense it was only 2am when I left LMAO. And I'm back home, so… not this time, unfortunately or not. Okay I promise I'll stop with the self-deprecating jokes now, it's just stronger than I am.

Oh my god I totally forgot that we're living in like totally different days??? This is so weird lol. But yeah, I should probably sleep. It's five twenty-two am, fucking hell. I swear I'm gonna die.

But don't worry about it honey, that playlist is just a messed up brainstorm that I threw in there with no context at all lol. The songs readers rated are great of course, but mine are… well, mine 🫣 And I'm getting sleepy and dumb and would definitely like a kiss from you before I actually fall asleep. But life is unfair.

Ideas floating around… would you mind sharing them, good girl? 🤨

And it's not a theory, it's like… 99% sure and I just don't know what to make of it (and if I've totally thought of the wrong person it's going to be pretty, erm, uncomfortable LMAO 🫠)

#t asks #🌸

0 notes

viltrumitesuperboy · 3 years

Text

Treat Them Right (Peter Parker x Male Reader)

Last second decision cause it’s Valentine’s Day. Also it’s short but that’s not my problem lmao

Requested by: @iliumheightnights Can you please write a peter parker x male reader where peter keeps getting distracted thinking of a date and the avengers think it's a girl so they give him all of these tips on how to "treat a lady right" but then his boyfriend shows up.

Word count: 1195

CW: mentions of reader as female

Any day Peter went to the tower, he was prepared for everything that could possibly go wrong. His table would explode, a supervillain would crash through the window, everything he worked on was deleted from his computer.

The worst one was when anyone he knew came to embarrass him in front of other people.

It was rarely a problem because he had little contact with other people when he was working. If he was going into another lab, he didn't worry so much that anything would go wrong because talking to other people kept him distracted from that worry. But someone embarrassing him in front of an Avenger? He might as well just die on the spot.

A week ago, his boyfriend had mentioned that it was going to be their one year anniversary since their first date. He was zoning out for parts of the day, both stressing over how he ever found someone so amazing and what he'd have to do to avoid disaster.

"Peter! Come here. I want you to meet someone."

He turned away from the scientists currently working on a project to see his mentor.

"Mr. Stark! Uh, I'm just finishing up here," he said.

"No worries. Come in, Bruce. No one's bite is worse than yours, I promise."

There was a quiet muttered complaint, and Peter turned back to the table to work on the hologram.

"Radiation is still dangerous, even as a source of energy. It might give the Hulk his powers, and probably Spider-Man — not that I would know, I've never met him. I mean, I could! Anyway, it doesn't mean it's not still dangerous. So keep that in mind when you're working with this stuff."

He made a vague hand gesture waving at the hologram that he definitely did not learn from Tony. Just as he started to head for the door, he was stopped by a voice.

"Hey, these are my papers! That's great. There's a section over here you might want to take a look at."

Peter then saw Bruce Banner swiping through a pdf that was on one of the holograms. He smiled up at Peter.

"Peter! I can't believe we haven't met yet. You're doing great work here," Dr. Bruce Banner, world-renowned scientist and former refugee, said to Peter Parker, skinny nerd still in school.

"Uh. Thank... you..." Peter responded, a little starstruck.

Even after meeting Avengers personally, it was still a surprise to see them. The world made them seem untouchable, but Peter knew they weren't. Seeing any of them in person was like a fever dream.

"Kid, this is Bruce. Bruce, Pete. We have somewhere to go," Tony said suddenly.

"Oh, okay. Bye!" Peter managed to say before he was swept out of the room.

When they got in the elevator, Tony finally spoke.

"So, Peter! I heard something very important came up and you are gonna need to have a talking to."

"I'm gonna what?!" Peter squeaked.

Then he was in the sitting room. It was usually the most comfortable place on the tower's "Avengers" floors. Now it was the most terrifying situation he'd ever been in.

Every single Avenger (minus Tony) and friends were sitting in a semicircle around Peter. They all stared at him in silence. His eyes were wide open as he stared right back.

"Am I being inducted into a cult?" he whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You have an anniversary coming up," Natasha said from her standing position as she crossed her arms. "A year is very important, Peter."

"You need to plan this properly," Rhodes said.

"And if she's not happy with what you plan, expect us to be ten times as unhappy," Clint added.

Peter opened his mouth to correct him, but Steve cut him off.

"You know, I might have been born a while ago, but most important things you need to know are going to be from us. If you don't treat her right, she'd be the least of your worries," he said.

He glanced at Bucky, who was cracking his neck. His face said "murder." Peter shrunk in on himself.

"Where's Mr. Stark?" he asked.

"He's in a meeting," Natasha said.

"Okay," he meekly responded.

Thor shuffled in his comfortable seat on the sofa.

"My people treat their romantic partners as their equals. If one is too slow in courting a partner, their relatives will find it suspicious and will seek blood. But I'm sure that's not the case," the god said with a reassuring smile.

It was not reassuring.

"I don't want to inconvenience you or anything, but I don't know why I'm here. I thought I was just supposed to work on something with Tony," Bruce said.

"Banner," Natasha snapped. "Give him some advice and then you can leave."

"Uh, I don't know, flowers? Girls like that, right? Look, I'm busy. It was nice to meet you, Peter. I hope we get to work on something together."

He walked away. Dr. Bruce Banner, world-renowned scientist, just told Peter that he wanted to work with him. For science stuff.

This was the best and worst day of his life.

"Okay, if you're going to a restaurant or anywhere that requires sitting at a table, you pull the chair out for her. And you make sure you check in, make sure she's comfortable," Sam said from his spot.

"You gotta make her feel like she's the only girl for you. And there's nothing better than personally bringing her somewhere that would mean a lot to the both of you," Bucky said.

"If your partner slaps you in the face, you think hard about what you did wrong," Thor absentmindedly mumbled, playing with some gadget he found on the coffee table.

"From what I've seen with Pepper and Tony, just don't be stupid. Be on time and make sure you do nice things for her," Rhodes said.

"I'd like to inform you that someone is coming up," FRIDAY chirped from the ceiling.

"Who?" Natasha snapped.

They all turned to see the private elevator open to reveal a boy. They readied their weapons, though Thor didn't seem too bothered. He swung the hammer around lazily.

"Uh... am I interrupting something?" you asked.

"Who are you? How did you get up here?" Rhodes demanded.

"I'm... here for Peter. Hey, you aren't, like, inducting him into a cult or anything, right?" you said.

"That's what I said!" Peter exclaimed.

He rushed away from the group into your arms, nearly toppling the both of you over. You held out a single flower, which he huffed and blushed at.

"Avengers, this is my boyfriend," Peter announced.

"That's unexpected," Steve said.

"I was saying 'partner' the whole time," Thor said. "None of you caught on."

"Are you ready, Peter? We've got somewhere to be," you said.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Peter automatically responded.

"Dude, if you do Spongebob in front of me one more time, I will take the flower."

"No!"

The elevator doors closed behind the both of you, leaving the Avengers to discuss the events themselves.

"I'm here," Tony said, entering the room with Pepper and Bruce. "Did I miss anything?"

#x male reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x male!reader #peter parker imagine #male reader #male reader insert #request

1K notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

A Midsommar Night’s Dream

Prelude - I watched midsommar so have this.

Pairing - Izuku X reader X Todoroki males

Warnings - NSFW, dead dove, do not eat. Implied incest, cult-like behaviors. Dubcon.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/7clyJIrLkEbXUDwj1tC9zz?si=EK3gCdOHQ3WQeK-ed9eucg

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Izuku’s been officially dating you for three weeks.

Three weeks.

He’s known you for far longer - the two of you solid friends since you first met. The man doesn’t know when friendship had evolved into something more, but he’s sure glad it did.

You were sweet, and kind, and far too caring for your own good. You didn’t mind waiting up for Izuku when his nights ran late, studying for his masters or taking on extra shifts.

You would rub his shoulders when he got stressed, offer to make him tea or run him a bath or anything else he needed, anything to help out. You loved him, and he loved you.

Tonight was a night that many partners might fear - meeting the family.

But Izuku was hardly worried. He was best friends with your brother Shouto, a level-headed student with good work ethics and a dry sense of humor. The rest of the family couldn’t be that bad.

A simple dinner, you had told him, dress casual and no gifts required. Still, Izuku felt obligated to bring the finest bottle of bourbon his paycheck could afford him (he’d asked Shouto what your father’s favorite was, just to be safe).

The Todoroki household was impressive; massive and imposing in the countryside, surrounded by tall stone walls and looking straight out of a victorian romance novel. Izuku knows what those look like, because he’s seen them on the covers of the romance novels you like to read. He’s always doing his best to pay attention to your likes and dislikes.

“Izuku!” came your excited little voice as the door opened after his loud knock, and the green-haired man couldn’t stop himself from breaking out in a smile.

You were almost bouncing in excitement behind your older brother Shouto as he held the door open, taking the offered bottle of bourbon from Izuku with a nod before leaving you alone together in the foyer.

“Hey, missed you-” Izuku grunted as you attacked him in a hug, and a laugh bubbled out of you both when the solid man had to take a step backwards from the push of your body.

“Missed you too! I’m so excited for tonight, it’s so good that Dad and the rest of the family are accepting you.” A quick kiss to his cheek distracted Izuku.

You were fairly comfortable with physical touch, resting your head on his shoulder, never afraid to snuggle up to his side on movie nights, or hold his hand out in public (especially now that the two of you were dating). But Izuku had honestly expected more.... sensuality once the two of you started seeing each other as lovers more than just friends.

He had asked to kiss you one night, after you’d made him dinner and rubbed his shoulders and listened to him talk about the latest subject he was studying. Izuku had felt his heart warm, like cold wax cradled over a flame, and his love for you was bursting out of his chest. He wanted to kiss you and hold you close, tell you how much he loved you.

You had just smiled shyly and shook your head, saying you wanted to wait a bit. Which Izuku understood! This was all new, going from friends-to-dating, and he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable in any way. He was willing to wait.

So the kiss to his cheek surprised him, made him stutter and blush and hug you a bit tighter.

Then you were taking his hand, leading him through the maze of a house. He couldn’t help but notice the old-timey decorations mixed in with the more modern features, but done in an elegant, timeless fashion. A good blend of old mixed with new.

Stepping into the large dining room hand-in-hand with you, Izuku was met with the sight of the entire Todoroki family.

“Everybody-” You started, catching their attention until every set of eyes was on you and the tall man by your side. “This is Izuku!”

Shouto stepped forward, closest to the pair of you, and set his hand on Izuku’s shoulder with a smile. “Glad to have you joining the family.”

Izuku smiled back, pulling his friend into a hug and giving him a hearty pat on the back.

“This is Fuyumi-” A tap to Izuku’s shoulder had him turning around, stepping away from Shouto to shake your sister’s hand.

“Hi Izuku, I’ve heard such good things about you.” Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like your own. Izuku could see the family resemblance between the two of you.

“And this is Natsuo, he’s studying for his masters just like you.” A white-haired man approached him, friendly and open, ready to shake Izuku’s hand but ultimately pulling him into a hug.

“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” Natsuo laughed, and Izuku shrugged, completely unbothered.

“Here’s Touya.” You introduced a redhead next, a man sitting almost sullenly at the table. He didn’t rise to his feet, didn’t even take Izuku’s offered handshake.

“This is the guy you’ve been babbling about? He looks bori-”

“Touya.” The room, already hushed, grew even more silent, almost heavy with the weight of the voice from the man at the head of the table.

The gangly redhead shut his mouth, looking ready to roll his eyes. You pulled Izuku past him towards the imposing man who was looking at the man at your side, appraising him.

“And this is my dad. Dad, this is Izuku.”

“A pleasure to meet you sir.” Izuku shook the mans large hand, and the man nodded solemnly.

“Sit down, we’re ready to eat.”

-----

Dinner wasn’t a quiet affair. Comfortable conversation flowed easily between everyone; questions about Izuku’s degree, about his goals, his dreams, his job. He knew it was just everyone getting to know him, assurance that he was suitable for their daughter. Izuku wanted to be perfect for you, anything and everything you needed.

Enji (Izuku was not about to call your father dad) asked only a few questions, otherwise decidedly quiet at his spot at the table, chewing his food while watching Izuku respond to the rest of his family.

It was mainly Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto keeping the conversation flowing, Izuku easily keeping up with whatever they decided to talk about, asking engaging questions of his own about the family members he’d just met, laughing easily whenever you made a pun or Shouto’s dry humor jumped out.

Everything seemed to be going well.

Fuyumi asked to be excused, saying she needed to go prepare, and Enji waved her off easily, telling you to go with her. You rose from your chair easily, but not before catching Izuku’s hand and giving it a squeeze, eyes shining as you leaned close to whisper “See you in a bit.”.

“You really love her?” Touya asked as soon as the two women left the room to go prepare dessert, leaving Izuku alone with the male Todoroki’s. Izuku assumed this would be when he gets the shake-down, the usual “Hurt her and we’ll kill you” talk.

“So much. Sometimes I feel like I love her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” Izuku confessed.

“She talks about you a lot. I think she feels the same way that you do.” Natsuo supplied from across the table, and Izuku felt his cheeks flush, his heart flutter. It was one thing to know you loved someone - to feel the warmth and peace it brought to your soul. It was another to know that they loved you back; it made him feel whole.

“I've seen how you treat her, I think the two of you are a good match.” Shouto said, and Izuku smiled at his friend. Shouto had been his buddy since high school, truthfully was the reason that Izuku and you had met. You’d come along with Shouto one day when he’d come to hang out with Izuku, and the two of you had become fast friends.

Natsuo was rising from the table, walking back to the little shelf along one wall where various drinks sat (and Izuku’s bourbon gift). Izuku watched the man begin to pour out a red liquid, before his attention was caught by Shouto leaving the table as well, taking his plate and exiting the room.

Then Natsuo was placing a glass of the red liquid down in front of Izuku. “Don’t worry, this is nothing more than homemade punch.” He said as Izuku eyed it.

“It’s tradition.” Touya growled and Izuku found himself taken aback at the heat in the other man’s voice. Was the redhead angry at him for some reason?

“Touya, calm down.” The eldest Todoroki said, and Izuku almost wanted to cower himself at the sheer dominance exuding from the powerful man. “Izuku is becoming family. You will be happy for your sister, not jealous.”

Touya huffed, grumbling under his breath before shoving his seat away from the table. “Just don’t fuckin’ hurt her, got it? She’s my baby sister.”

“I would never-” But Touya is already storming out of the room, uncaring of Izuku’s assurances.

Natsuo sighs. “Don’t mind him, he just.... doesn’t like change.”

“What is this again?” Picking up the red drink, Izuku swirled it around the glass, trying to change the subject and hopefully smooth over the tension. Most of the tension had dissipated when Touya left, but it never hurt to be proactive.

“It’s a tea we brew and sweeten ourselves. We grow the plants in the backyard, you’ll see them soon.” Natsuo explained.

“It’s tradition?” Izuku parroted Touya’s earlier words, before taking a quick sip. It was delicious tea.

“Yes, we like to welcome those who are approved to join the family.” Natsuo laughed a little. “Fuyumi’s husband thought we were trying to drug him. It’s really just tea.”

Izuku snorted. It tasted like tea, why would someone think the Todoroki’s were trying to drug them? Sure, the family might be a little odd, but they weren’t malicious... right?

Before he knew it, his cup was empty and Natsuo had slipped out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with the head of the household, Enji.

Where were you? And why had everyone else left the room?

“I’m very particular about who I allow in my house, boy.” Enji started, and Izuku suddenly felt.... uneasy.

“Not everyone thinks the same way as the Todoroki’s. But you seem to be a bright young man. Educated. You aren’t going to be any trouble, are you?”

The last question wasn’t posed as such. It was a statement.

Still, Izuku shook his head. “No sir, I have no intentions of causing trouble.” Why did this casual dinner feel so serious? there was so much emphasis on being accepted into the family, on being welcomed. Izuku recognized how big of a deal that was but still... it’s not like you were about to marry him. He was planning on that a few years down the road.

“Come with me.” Enji instructed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before his impressive bulk hefted itself out of his chair. Izuku felt tiny next to the patriarch, following the man through the dark, empty house.

He wanted to ask where Enji was taking him. Where you had disappeared to, where the rest of the family had gone. But that would be rude, so Izuku kept his mouth shut.

Outside it was dark, moon shining dimly through the sky, the residual warmth of the summer day still held in the air. Izuku followed Enji through the back door, down along a path, into the plentiful, green backyard.

To a grove of trees, torches flickering from within the grove, small bushes and beautiful flowering plants dotted among the trees. A garden, Izuku realized. Those must be the plants and bushes that produce the tea Natsuo had given him.

Then there you were, in a little clearing among the trees.

Sitting on a dark blanket, knees drawn to your chest and ankles crossed in front of you as you hid your body.

Izuku started - you were naked.

Touya was kneeling beside you, a hand on your shoulder as he talked to you gently, barely sparing Izuku and his father a glance as they strode into the torch-lit clearing, Touya’s attention truly focused on you.

Shouto and Natsuo stood in the light, watching you, watching Izuku.

“What is this?” Izuku sputtered, and upon hearing his voice you looked away from Touya, a smile lighting up your face as you saw your Izuku.

“This is tradition boy.” Enji laid a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Now strip down, my little girl’s been waiting.”

Izuku’s head swirled.

Touya stood up, shooting the green-haired man a lazy glare before moving to stand by his brothers, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Izuku...” Your sweet little voice called for him, and green eyes snapped to your form on the ground, watched as, with a nod from Enji, you slowly unfurled your body to expose yourself to your lover.

A stab of arousal hit Izuku in his gut, watching your soft-looking skin be revealed.

Pert breasts, a squishy tummy, glistening folds ready and twitching between your legs.

You were drenched.

There was so much shiny slick, all over your thighs and dripped onto the blanket, Izuku couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think straight. It was impossible for you to be that wet on your own, you must have used lube or something to prepa-

It hit him; You and Fuyumi hadn’t gone to prepare dessert.

“You just gonna stand there all night like an idiot? Take your clothes off and fuck her you dwee-”

“Touya.” Enji growled, silencing his son immediately. Then the man turned to Izuku, easily pushing him forwards towards you. “You’ve been accepted into the family; that’s an invitation you don’t want to refuse.”

With a sigh, you easily laid down onto your back, legs still spread for Izuku to look at you, hands coming up to rest shyly over your breasts.

“Don’t do that, let him see.” Shouto murmured, and immediately your hands dropped in obedience. Shouto hummed in approval, before bi-colored eyes swept up to look at Izuku, urging his friend forward with a tilt of his head down to your form.

With trembling hands, Izuku fumbled with his pants, unzipping them with a bit of difficulty, undoing his belt, working on the buttons of his nice shirt the he had worn to make a good impression when he met your family for the first time.

It took him a moment to undress, a red blush creeping up over his cheeks and down to his chest as he bared his body to the Todoroki’s.

He didn’t think he was small, but he wasn’t big either; average. Izuku was confident in his size, didn’t really know or are how he stacked up against other guys, and the girls he’d been with before hadn’t complained.

Still, he felt embarrassed to be naked in front of other people, to be on display. But there wasn’t another option, was there? (Izuku didn’t know if that was such a bad thing)

Two short strides before dropping to his knees in front of you on the blanket, his throat dry and his palms sweaty.

“Are you-” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?”

Your head nodded yes, a pleased, yet shy grin on your face. “Of course. I want you.”

The softness of your voice, of your body, Izuku felt dizzy as he shuffled forward, close enough to touch. Still hesitant, worried about the male Todoroki members watching from the sidelines, brain racing to work through the strangeness of the situation, the utter oddity of this... ritual that was currently taking place.

But then you were sitting up, hands circling around his neck, pressing your lips to his with crushing finality.

He was a part of the family now.

It felt good to kiss you, soft lips pressed together, little huffs of breath from your nose as you kept going. Izuku took the freedom of circling his hands around your waist, almost gasping at the plushness of your flesh, melting against you with a groan as your lips kept pressing to his.

“I’m all ready, just-just put it in.” Your breathless little confession tumbled out as soon as you pulled away from your first real kiss with Izuku, a blush high on your cheeks.

But it was Izuku’s turn to blush, sitting between your legs like a fumbling virgin. “I’m not hard yet, but I can, uhm, finger you. Or we can kiss for a little bit mo-”

“You aren’t even hard? Touya’s sneering voice cut through Izuku’s babbling. “Look at my sister. She’s fucking soaking the ground. That’s not hot to you?”

Izuku stuttered, eyes flickering down to where your legs were opened, pretty little cunt twitching. It’s like you were begging to be touched, and Izuku was a sucker for begging.

“No, that’s so hot, oh my god.” He breathed, fingers instinctively reaching to swipe through your wetness, relishing the way you gasped and shuddered as his hand made contact with your body.

“She’s so soft too, got tits like little pillows. You should lick ‘em, she likes that.” Touya continues, and Izuku wants to point out that the reason he’s not completely hard yet isn’t because he’s not insanely turned on by the beautiful creature in front of him, but because he’s feeling weirded out by all her brothers and her dad watching intently from the sidelines.

Yet he does what Touya suggests, leaning forward to put his mouth on your chest, tongue darting out to drag against your skin.

The eldest Todoroki was right about you being soft.

Izuku can’t stop his other hand from rubbing at your cunt more firmly, feeling your little hips twitch towards him, pressing your chest more firmly into his mouth.

“She’s so pretty.” Natsuo comments, but Izuku is hardly listening when he’s flicking at your clit, nursing at your tits. “She’s gonna feel real good around you Izuku, like a new fleshlight.”

“You better breed her good, boy.” Enji booms, and suddenly you’re scrabbling at Izuku’s arms, pulling his hair, whining “Please, Izuku please.”.

“Okay, shit, let me-”

“He must be really worked up, Izuku hardly ever curses.” Shouto announces, and fuck, he’s right - but how could he not be worked up?

Izuku is hard, blood rushing so quickly to his cock that he feels lightheaded, taking himself in hand and giving his length a few dry pumps. He’s envisioning how sopping wet you’ll feel against him, staring, drooling over your cunt.

And then he’s lining himself up, kissing you hard, and pushing inside.

“Big, ‘s too big!” You panic, tears popping to your eyes but Izuku is quick to wipe them away, cooing at you and stilling his hips.

“Oh, don’t cry! Shh, I’ll go slow, ‘m sorry, I thought you were ready-”

“Natsu-” You cried, hand scrabbling into the ground above your head, reaching, searching for your brother.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” The man was immediately on his knees by your face, clasping your hand fervently, leaning down to put a sweet kiss on your nose. “Breathe honey, in and out. It’s okay.”

“Noo I-I.... ‘M scared, he’s-he’s-ah!” A stuttered cry broke from your chest as Izuku shifted slightly, inadvertently pushing deeper.

“No, it's gonna be okay. It's just like when we do it, yeah? He's gonna be nice.” And Natsuo is looking at Izuku, fixing him with such a pointed gaze and Izuku gets the message. He’s going to be nice.

It’s not like he wasn’t planning on it - the green haired man loves you.

But then the breath is sucked out of his chest as he comprehends what Natsuo had just comforted you with, that-that.

That you’ve fucked your brother.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Izuku chants, unable to stop his hips from inching back and forth, humnping into you in infinitesimal movements as arousal punches through his gut. “Sorry, I can’t stop-’h my god that’s-”

He can hear Touya cackle. “Damn, something really got him going.”

You were squeezing your eyes shut, clenching Natsuo’s hand so tight that the skin was whitening. Your brother didn’t seem to mind, more occupied with stroking your hair, eyes fixated on the soft jiggle of your breasts as Izuku humped you like a senseless virgin.

His breathing turned into wheezing, hitching when a presence was felt at his back.

“You can do better than that.” Enji’s hands were pressing against Izuku’s naked rear, making the green haired man flinch forward and away from the touch. But Enji merely pushed, propelling Izuku’s thrusts so that he would really fuck the warm, willing body beneath him.

“Izuk-Izu-Izuku-” You moaned, rocking your body to further spear yourself onto his cock, apparently finding the fast glide pleasurable as opposed to your hesitance earlier.

He leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning into the kiss, hands wandering as you pushed to meet each other, Izuku’s stomach clenching tighter and tighter as he neared his release.

“She’s never had someone fuck her raw before...” Shouto mused, eyes glued to the scene in front of him, watching his best friend fuck his sister with the help of his family. “I wonder if it feels different.”

But his words were lost in the quick slap of skin meeting skin, Izuku’s grunts, your sweet little noises as you writhed and clutched at Natsuo’s hand, your other hand holding onto Izuku.

And then Izuku was gone, balls clenching and cock twitching inside you, pulsing as he shot his seed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, pulling your hand away from Natsuo to place it against your tummy, pressing right over where Izuku was still grinding against you. “Feels... feels so warm.”

Izuku was panting, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead, desire slowly swirling out of his body as he came.

What the fuck had he just done?

Enji clapped him once on the back, before rising to his feet. “Welcome to the family, son.”

703 notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

scientist.

| bucky x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. scientist working closely with the avengers at the compound becomes close with bucky and is one of the only people who he feels safe to open up to, and they end up falling in love? maybe with some fluff and smut?

“Y/N, this is Bucky,” Steve introduced you to the Winter Soldier. He eyed you warily, silver eyes untrusting. His body was full of tension, and his jaw tightened with uncertainty.

“Hi, Bucky. I’m going to try to help you, okay?” You smiled sweetly, and he glanced at Steve who gave him a reassuring nod.

Bucky had recently arrived at Stark Tower, traumatized and shaken up after being rescued from Hydra. He was safe with immunity, and brought to the tower for recovery. He was quiet and anxious, barely speaking to anyone except for Steve.

You had been asked to run tests on Bucky and help him adjust, as well as being the one responsible for his injured body. Steve knew you would be the most gentle, and he trusted you with his life, and was willing to trust you with Bucky, even in his own absence.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice broke when Steve went to the door. He bit the inside of his lip, not wanting his only friend to abandon him. Anxiety welled up inside of Bucky, and a pang of guilt shot through Steve.

“I have a mission, but you’re safe with Y/N. She’ll be gentle,” Steve promised, and Bucky’s entire body tensed up when Steve disappeared down the hallway.

You and Bucky were left alone in the lab, and you smiled gently. His eyes were sharp, and he watched your every move as if you were a threat. You quietly moved things around, preparing for an exam.

“You don’t need to be nervous. I only want to help you, okay?” You asked, and he didn’t answer. You didn’t mind, you were patient, and you knew that you couldn’t rush him into trusting you.

“Can you take your shirt off for me, please? I just want to get a look, I understand that you’re wounded.”

Bucky hesitated before slowly peeling off the loose black t-shirt he wore. Red, angry scars littered the skin that his prosthetic was attached to. You winced, imagining it must have been painful. You took time examining his body, figuring out how to best help him. Getting the poor soldier out of pain and more comfortable was your first priority.

“Does it hurt?”

He nodded silently, and you frowned.

“Will you let me touch you? I’ll be gentle,” he didn’t respond, and you took a step toward him. He was sitting on the edge of the exam table, and you carefully lowered it with your foot so you were at eye-level. He flinched as you lightly touched the metal of his arm. He instantly grabbed your wrist when your fingertips touched the damaged skin.

“It’s okay!” you gasped out, startled by the tight grip.

“You said it hurts, right? I’m going to give you some numbing gel.” You held up the small container in your other hand.

“It’ll take the edge off, I promise, Bucky.”

He released his grip on your wrist, and you dipped your fingers into the gel and carefully spread it over his wounds. He relaxed slightly under the relief, and you got him to lay down for x-rays.

“Do you sleep?”

Bucky shook his head, and you went to your box, searching for a sedative. You couldn’t begin to imagine what Bucky had been through. You’d seen videos on the news, but despite his history of violence, you felt safe around him, and wanted him to trust you.

“I’ll give Steve something to give to you to help you sleep, but just for a while until you adjust, okay?” You didn’t want to give it to Bucky, unsure of whether or not he was stable enough to handle his own medication. He’d given you nothing, only silence.

“I’ve been working here with the avengers for several years now. It’ll get less intimidating, I promise,” you casually filled the silence. When you had arrived, you were hesitant and wary like Bucky. You didn’t trust the other soldiers, and you didn’t even have a best friend looking out for you at the tower. You’d transferred from S.H.I.E.L.D., coming off of training with Fitz and Simmons, to an unfamiliar home with unfamiliar faces. Steve had been the one to welcome you, and had helped you adjust to Stark Tower.

Bucky listened to you talk, appreciating your attempts to empathize with him. Steve had promised him a million times that you would take care of Bucky, that out of everyone, you would understand.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, looking down at the light bruises forming on your wrists. He felt guilty, you had only been helping him. You looked up at the sound of him speaking, and you smiled.

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to.”

You spent several weeks with Bucky, running tests, fixing his wounds, and trying to help him. He no longer jumped whenever you touched him, and he eventually gave short, verbal answers to your questions. You’d managed to calm the inflammation that caused him so much discomfort, and he began to open up to you slowly.

“Have you been sleeping better?”

“I sleep longer, but the nightmares are still bad,” Bucky confessed shyly.

“I’m so sorry,” you frowned, and he shook his head.

“I’ve got this almost all healed. I want to do a sleep study, is that okay with you? Maybe we can figure out what’s going on in there.”

“Yes. I’d sleep in here?”

“No, I’d let you sleep in your own room, I’d take my equipment in there.”

Bucky nodded, and you got everything you needed. It was already late, Bucky had been hanging around in the lab with you long after hours while Steve was gone. Whenever he was off on a mission, Bucky barely left your side. He would sit in your lab, or even in the chair at the end of your bed while you relaxed. You’d taken it upon yourself to introduce him to the Hobbit movies upon finding out he loved the books. Eventually, the two of you moved onto more cult classics, spending your time watching movies to distract him from Steve’s absences.

“Oh, try some of this tea. I got it for you,” you handed him the box, and you saw him smile for the first time. It only lasted a second, but color sparked through his eyes, and he thanked you.

The two of you walked to his bedroom, and you told him to get ready for bed. You watched him tear off his shirt and lay down on the bed, the silver of his dog tags glinting in the moonlight shining through the window.

You carefully attached the monitors to him and got settled in a chair in the corner with your laptop to monitor his sleep. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling steadily.

It took a couple hours for Bucky to drift off, and you sipped from a cup of coffee to stay awake. You set your laptop aside when you saw his heart rate spike, getting up to check on him in the dark. You walked to the side of the bed, seeing his chest heaving with choked breaths.

“Bucky, breathe, love,” you touched his face, trying to pull him from the nightmare. He sat up abruptly, a cry escaping him. His eyes were wild and afraid, and you wrapped your arms around him.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.”

His arms went around your waist, and he buried his face in your shoulder, tears slowly soaking your shirt. You put your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through his short hair.

“Hydra can’t get to you here. You’re safe with me, I promise.”

“Please don’t go.”

“I won’t, I won’t leave you,” you hugged him tightly. Bucky let himself cry in your arms, holding you tightly and trying to fend off the nightmares. Your heart broke for the frightened soldier, and you turned your head, your lips pressing against his temple as you promised it was going to be okay.

“Did I ruin the study?” He asked once he’d calmed down, leaning back against the pillows.

“No, no. I’ll get this off of you,” you took off the wires, freeing him from the feeling of being tested on.

“Do you feel like you could go back to sleep?” you asked, and he rubbed his eyes and shook his head. You closed your laptop and put everything in your bag, taking your coffee cup.

“Come on.”

He followed you to the kitchen of the massive penthouse, and you set the cup in the sink before turning on the kettle.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be,” you promised, lightly squeezing his arm as you walked by.

The night was quiet, and you made tea for the two of you, hoping it would calm him down some. He thanked you, taking the tea and sitting with you.

It became a ritual whenever he couldn’t sleep, you would drink tea together late in the kitchen, watching the city lights glitter through the huge windows of the tower.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Bucky?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He looked up at you with a shy gaze.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

Over the following weeks, the two of you spent nearly all of your time together. Bucky opened up to you about some of the horrors of Hydra, and you were always there to wipe the tears away as he recounted the trauma. You listened to him, holding him in your arms when the memories became too much.

You were everything to Bucky, and the two of you were hopelessly in love.

Bucky said goodbye to Steve as he went on a mission abroad. He’d been at the Tower for almost three months, but he still got extra anxious whenever Steve left. He wandered around the tower, avoiding the avengers were still home. He felt uneasy, and he searched for you, stopping by your lab, only to find it empty.

Bucky looked around, finally discovering you in your suite. The door was unlocked, and he said your name as he stepped in. He found you on your bed, asleep in your clothes, a novel open on your stomach as you laid atop your duvet. Bucky watched you for a moment before walking over. He carefully lifted the book off of you, making sure to mark your page. He pulled a throw blanket over you before sitting down on the beanbag in the corner.

You woke up a few hours later, seeing you had a blanket over you, and Bucky was sitting in the corner.

“Bucky? Are you alright, love?” you asked, sitting up slowly.

“Yeah, I just...”

He didn’t need to explain, and you smiled softly at him. You scooted to the edge of the bed, holding your arms out to him. Bucky didn’t hesitate, getting up and climbing onto your bed beside you.

Bucky felt safer near you, and ever since you’d held him through his nightmares, he had craved your touch. He curled up against you, relaxing as you wrapped your arms around him.

You adored Bucky, and you’d grown attached to him, more than just studying him. Your heart swelled whenever you saw him, and you lived to get a glimpse of his rare smiles. You’d fallen entirely in love with him, and becoming his girlfriend was one of the best decisions in your life.

You dragged your fingers through his hair, and his head rested on your chest, his arms secure around your waist. You relaxed when you felt him fall asleep on you, listening to his heartbeat. He slept through the night with you, your kindness keeping the nightmares at bay.

“You don’t mind?” Bucky asked, sitting in your bed.

“No, I like it when you stay,” you leaned down, kissing Bucky lightly. He smiled against your kiss, making butterflies flap around in your stomach. You giggled as he pulled you to straddle his lap, giving you a real kiss. You lost yourselves in a make-out session, everything fading except for each other.

“I want to do it,” you whispered breathlessly in between kisses.

“Do it?”

“Have sex, with you,” you clarified, sitting up. His eyes widened, and his hands stilled on your waist.

“Are you certain? It’s your first time, are you sure that you want me-” Bucky stammered, hardly believing your request.

“I’m absolutely sure. I want it to be with you. I trust you, Bucky.”

He nodded and carefully slid your shirt off over your head, kissing your lips again before flipping the two of you over. Your back hit the mattress, and he knelt between your legs. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you shyly blushed, and he leaned down and kissed your now-exposed chest.

“Beautiful,” he smiled sweetly, making you melt.

You lifted your hips for him to slide your plaid shorts off of you, slipping your underwear off with it. You immediately closed your legs, unused to anyone seeing you naked. You trusted Bucky, but the action seemed more daunting in real life than it had in your imagination. Insecurities caught up with you, spreading warmth across your cheeks.

“You don’t need to be shy, not around me,” Bucky promised, recognizing your sudden hesitation as he discarded his own clothes. You were thankful when his lips reconnected with yours. The kiss was slow and reassuring, his right hand going down to gently run his fingers through your folds. He found your clit and stroked it carefully, kissing down your neck, his lips getting to the spot that always turned you on, just below your ear.

You were a little bit nervous, but you spread your legs further apart as he made you feel amazing with just his hand. You’d never been touched like this before, and your body reacted to everything he did. His movements were skilled, and you were melting into him in no time.

You started to squirm, wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to pull him closer. He smirked proudly into your kiss, moaning as you parted your lips and allowed him to slide his tongue against yours.

“I need you inside of me, please,” your sweet begs made Bucky weak, and he held himself back from giving in immediately.

“Wait, doll. I want to make it hurt as little as possible,” he carefully pushed a finger inside of you, not getting much resistance. You rested back against the pillows, looking up at your boyfriend as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, trying to get you ready for him.

You winced a bit in discomfort with three fingers, and Bucky carefully watched your face, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. When you began to push down against him, unable to sit still, he couldn’t wait any longer, and neither could you.

“Bucky, I’m ready,” you insisted, anticipation building up inside of you. The coil in your belly had already started to build from just him fingering you, and you were desperate to feel him inside of you.

“Okay. But I’ll go slow,” He promised, intertwining your fingers as he carefully eased into you.

A soft whimper rose in your throat, tears pricking at your waterline. You hadn’t expected it to hurt as much as it did, feeling like he was tearing you open when he was only halfway in. He’d been careful to do his best to prepare you, but he was just so much bigger than his fingers. A soft gasp caught in your chest, pushing tears down your cheeks.

“Y/N, my love, it’s okay, just breathe, it’ll feel better soon.” Bucky felt immensely guilty for hurting you, but he kept pushing forward until he was all the way in. His soft lips kissed tears off of your face, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him against you tightly.

“I love you, I love you so much,” Bucky promised, stilling so you could adjust.

“I love you too,” you kissed him and tried not to focus on the sharp pain.

It slowly began to fade, and he rocked his hips, thrusting slowly. The ache was replaced with soft euphoria, and he built a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. You reached down to help yourself and rub circles on your clit, making the pressure tighten in your abdomen as the pain disappeared to make room for the electricity that sparked through your nerves.

Bucky felt you squeezing around him as he rolled forward against you, and your legs started to shake. He carefully pushed down on your lower belly, feeling the outline of himself and sending pleasure shocking through you. Your back arched, and he leaned down to kiss your chest, praising you for taking him so well and being so gorgeous.

“Let go around me doll, I’ll catch you, come for me,” Bucky urged between loving kisses, and you tumbled over the edge, your orgasm bringing you to squeals. He came quickly after you, riding you out and making your head spin.

The sex left the two of you breathless, and you snuggled against his chest, wanting to stay close to him. He showered you with affection and kisses, making sure you were comfortable and relaxed afterwards.

You didn’t leave his side, and once the ache had worn off you’d even convinced him to go again, a request he was all-too-happy to oblige.

“Bucky!” You squealed, running into his arms when he returned from his first mission away. He’d made significant progress, and even became a valuable member of the team, helping Steve catch the bad guys.

“Oh, my love, I missed you,” Bucky hummed before kissing you deeply and holding you in his arms. He hated being apart from you, but it was worth it to see your joyful excitement when the two of you reunited.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” you giggled between kisses, melting the super soldier.

“I love you too, doll.”

You held his hand as he walked back to your bedroom, peeling his clothes off once you were in private.

“Mmm... I need a shower,” he mumbled, having to practically pry you off of him.

“What are you doing?” he laughed as you pulled your own jeans off.

“Saving water.”

891 notes · View notes

emilysshortstories · 3 years

Text

Paul Lahote Part One

trigger warnings: ??? Nothing yet but not promises that will keep in later parts

words: 1543

It’s in those moments of deep desperation that you find hope. Or it seems to find you. When I left home to live with my uncle, miles away from my home, desperation was the only thing on my mind. Desperately running away, I didn’t want to face that part of my life that I already felt as though I was behind. I wanted to start fresh. I still do, so why does the reason I came here matter? My uncle, Charlie, agreed that he wouldn’t tell a soul about the events that lead me to his home, not even his own daughter. Who never really dropped the subject of course, but knew it wasn’t any of her business. I wasn’t naive enough to actually believe that I wouldn’t have to face problems here, but I think that’s what drew me here. Different problems, and that’s what I got.

When I first moved here my cousin, Bella, had a boyfriend who she spent most of her time with. She still introduced me to everyone and showed me around, but when he moved things shifted. Bella completely shut down, she was always quiet and reserved, but this was different. She was numb. It took her a really long time to talk to anyone, and when she did, it was only me, Charlie, and her friend Jacob. They were always working on these two motorcycles together, sometimes I would join them. Jacob was nice, clearly had a massive crush on Bella even though she always denied it.

One day when I tagged along I met Quil and Embry, they also seemed nice but I didn’t talk to them much. I didn’t talk to anyone that lived on the reservation actually, not until I had to stop Bella from doing something stupid. Feels like I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

She was pissed. I’ve never seen her this angry before. I was a little scared to get in the car with her, but the fear of what she was going to do with this anger overpowered me. I stayed in the car when she stormed into Jacob’s house, but practically leaped out as I saw her approaching “Sam’s cult”. I was too far behind her and couldn’t reach her until she had already slapped one of the boys. “ALRIGHT” I yelled at Bella, getting in between them and seeing the boy start to shake in anger. “What you’re NOT gonna do is pick a fight with Mr. Mc steroids over here.” I continued while looking the boy up and down. We made eye contact. I didn’t want to but I froze and felt something turn in my gut while he immediately stopped shaking. I quickly shook it off and turned back to my crazy cousin. “Lets leave. Get in the fucking car John Cena”, pointing to her truck. I heard a bit of laughter as we walked away, but didn’t turn around. I didn’t even dare look in the rear view mirror as I drove off.

After Bella calmed down she admitted that slapping a 7 foot Greek sculpture wasn’t the smartest move. “They did something to him, I know it. Jacob’s too scared to tell me what’s going on but I’m gonna figure it out.” Bella said with gritted teeth. “Listen, you know Jacob better than I do so it’s your call, but maybe consider the idea that it’s none of your business? You and him have been friends since preschool. I feel like if it was necessary for you to know, he would have told you”. By the time I finished my speech Bella had already shut down. Just like she was before. Broke my heart seeing her like this. Maybe I should talk to Jacob or the “cult”, just be civil about it.

So that’s what I did. The next day I drove to Jacob’s house, but Billy said he wasn’t home and to try Sam’s place. Well, he said Jacob wasn’t home and I begged him to tell me where he might be. For some reason he caved and told me where to find him and not Bella. I tried not to think about it too much or let my anxiety get the best of me while driving.

When I knocked on the door, I didn’t expect a small, sweet woman with a huge scar across her face to answer the door. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes, I was looking for Jacob?”

“Are you Bella?”

“No, I’m Y/N, Bella’s cousin.”

“Oh. OH!” She seemed really surprised to find out this information. “Jacob it out with Paul right now. Working. They will be back soon though if you would like to come in, the rest of the crowd is here. I’m Emily, Sam’s fiance.”

“Oh I can come back another time, I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t be silly, we are all friendly and we are dying to get to know you.”

What does that mean? I walked in and saw everyone I saw yesterday but Jacob and the boy Bella slapped. Paul. “Hey Embry, how have you been?” I asked, seeming he was the only person I recognized. “Good, You?”

“I’m ok, just worried about Bella. Wanted to give Jacob a bit of grief for leaving her high and dry. She’s taking it a bit hard, but I also wanted to apologize for how she acted yesterday. Slapping who I assume is Paul wasn’t cool at all. I’m sure she feels really awful about it.”

“It’s not Jacob’s fault for leaving Bella. You don’t have to apologize for Bella, I think we have all wanted to slap Paul at some point in time.” Sam said.

“Got it, but is there anything I can do to get Jacob to talk to Bella again?”

“Jump in line, we all want him to talk about it so we don’t have to hear him monologuing all the time about it.” Embry said, before the third and last boy elbowed him really hard.

“So none of this is your doing?” I asked all the boys.

“Not exactly, no.” Said Sam.

“Ok. That’s some clarity at least.” I said with a smile.

“Why don’t you sit down, muffin, before the beasts attack them?” Emily offered a bowl full of muffins the size of Ohio to me.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” I said while taking a muffin and sitting next to Embry. Emily was right that the boys would attack the food, holy shit. “So why don’t you tell us about yourself?” Emily said, seeming excited and sitting across from me. “What do you want to know? I’m pretty much an open book.”

“What brings you to Forks?” The ONE question I hate.

“Running away from my problems, if i’m being honest. I’ve always loved the rain, needed a change, and my uncle, Charlie, offered me a room. So I took it.”

“I like that, where are you from?”

“Austin.”

“Texas?” said the only boy who I didn’t know.

“No, actually it’s a small secret base on Mars. I’m an alien.” This made everyone laugh, especially the strange boy. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“Jared, you always that sarcastic?”

“Yes, humor is my only likable personality trait.”

“I hear that” said Jared while raising his muffin. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“I write, read, and love watching movies and TV shows. I'm a big music lover but I think that’s just a side effect of being born and raised in Austin. Since moving here I’ve really taken up hiking though, it’s so beautiful here. Not just flat desert like in Texas.”

“The only TV show I watch is New Girl, nobody here seems to watch it.” Said Jared and before I even thought it through my favorite Schmit quote fell out of my mouth.

“You would have been my nightmare. We were on very strict instructions from Rabbi Schmolli not to say anything until the very last christian kid found out about Santa Claus. Ruining Christmas? Very bad for our brand.”

Everyone seemed to like me after that and conversation flowed freely. I really liked spending time with everyone and lost track of time until I saw that the sun was going down. “Oh shit, I gotta get going, I’m not used to driving on ice yet and don’t want to drive on these roads when it's dark. Thank you so much for being so nice to me Emily, it was really nice talking to everyone.”

“Oh but Paul isn’t back yet” Emily said quickly. “And Jacob.”

“I can give Jacob shit anytime and I’m sure Paul isn’t my biggest fan after what Bella did so I think it’s a good idea to head out now. Thanks again though.” I said and started making my way to the door.

“Of course! No problem, please come by again. I liked talking to you too and I’d love you to properly meet Paul.”

We walked out just as Jacob and Paul emerged from the trees, but as soon as Paul made eye contact with me, that same flip happened in my gut again before he took off running back into the woods. Guess that answers my question on if he’s mad at me.

#twilight #new moon #paul lahote #quil ateara #sam uley #emily uley #embry call #jared #jacob black #paul lahote smut #paul lahote imagine

164 notes · View notes

cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

#the magnus archives #jonmartinweek2021 #tma #my fic #jonmartin #cw injury

317 notes · View notes

americxn · 3 years

Note

Hi, I am absolutely living for your fics (run especially!!) I had an idea for a possible Kai fic if you have time. What if Kai keeps the reader separate from the cult and acts almost like pre-cult Kai with her. But one day (maybe after he thinks Winter is the mole) he loses his mind and goes to the reader for comfort?! Idk maybe it could be angsty or sweet or smutty just a rough idea ☺️

Unpredictable (Kai x Reader)

a/n: I’M BACK. sorry this took me such a long time to post, I couldn’t quite figure out how to write it but here it is! (i lowkey hate this i’m so sorry)

wordcount: 2k

Pulling up the handbrake of your car, you pushed open the door, ensuring to grab your phone and keys before stepping out into the cool night air. The illuminated windows of Kai’s kitchen lit up the driveway, showing you the path to the front door. You breathed in the night air, excited to see your boy after a long day of work. Not bothering to knock, you pulled open the front door, pausing to take off your shoes before entering the main part of the house, humming softly to yourself. You paused when Kai voice rose to meet you, coming from the kitchen to your left. He was muttering angrily, his voice almost imperceptibly raised in pitch, a sure sign that he was stressed. “Kai?” You called, hurrying into the kitchen to see him bent over the kitchen counter, his hands covering his face whilst his phone rested on the surface before him. Beverly stood silently on the other side of the room, a chopping board covered in sliced vegetables occupying her. “Kai?” You repeated. This time he heard you as you stepped into the kitchen with a concerned frown. He snatched up his phone, his eyes widening slightly as he beheld you before putting his phone off speaker and raising it to his ear. “No, I don’t care. She should be here.” He gritted down the phone, walking over to you and bracing an arm around your waist. His body was tense against yours.

You peered up at him as he spat down the phone, his face glowing an angry red, his eyes wild. “Kai?” You whispered a third time, trying to get him to look at you. He glanced to you, pinching the bridge of his nose before pulling the phone away from his ear. “Hi, lamb. Give me a minute, okay? Go upstairs, I’ll join you in a few.” Although his voice was calm, you could tell that it was forced, his lip curling in rage as he addressed you before giving you a light shrug towards the kitchen door. You turned slowly, glancing at Beverly who shook her head in warning, encouraging you silently to heed his direction. Turning away fully, your ensured that your hand brushed against Kai’s in a soft gesture of affection before vacating the room. You made it only halfway up the stairs before Kai’s roar of fury ripped through the house, swiftly followed by the distinct sound of something shattering. You were back down the stairs and into the kitchen within a matter a seconds, beholding Kai with wide eyes. He stood in the centre of the room, shouting furiously down the phone, spittle flying from his mouth and a thick, angry vein prominently running up the centre of his forehead. At his feet, the crystalline vase that had once housed a bunch of summery flowers on the centre of the kitchen island lay in shatters around his feet, the flowers limp and broken on the floor. His phone quickly joined the mess of shards on the floor, Kai not even bothering to hang up on the caller before chucking it to the hard floor, the screen instantly splintering into a spider web of deep cracks. “Kai.” You barked, Beverly quickly skirting around the mess on the floor and exiting the room. You couldn’t blame her, Kai never acted like this and you weren’t too sure how to deal with it either. His head snapped up to you, his nostrils flared and eyes wide in savage anger, his laboured breathing audible even from across the room. “What the fuck is going on?” You questioned, carefully picking your way through the mess of shards of broken glass and taking his face in your hands. “Look at me.” You ordered calmly, watched as his pupils dilated slightly at the sight of your concerned face as it appeared before his. You allowed your thumbs to trace soft, loving patterns on his cheeks as you held him, his fingers clasping tightly onto your wrists as his eyes drifted shut under your touch. You waited patiently for his breathing to even out slightly, his grip slowly loosening on your wrists notifying you that he was calmed by your presence. “Are you okay?” You whispered eventually, peering up at him under a concerned frown. He nodded tightly, his jaw clenching and working beneath your touch. “Come with me.” You encouraged gently, his eyes opening as you pulled your hands away from his face, taking his hands in yours instead. “Careful.” You murmured, helping him navigate through the scattered shards of brutally sharp glass, a product of his fury. He was completely silent as you led him away from the kitchen and up the stairs, your hands clutched tightly in his hold. Pushing the door open with a foot, you led him into his bedroom, perching him on the edge of the bed and shutting the door softly behind you. He kept his dark gaze trained on the floor as you turned to him, approaching him with slow caution, trying to gauge how he was feeling. “Do you wanna talk about it?” To your upmost dismay and complete shock, Kai’s face crumpled at your words, a rosy hue settling over his cheeks. In the three years that you and Kai had been together, you had never seen him cry. You cursed under your breath, hurrying to where he sat and pulling his body to yours. His arms immediately snaked around your waist, his head burying into your stomach. His shoulders shook slightly at the force of his sobs, small, broken cries emanating from his hidden face. His heaving cries were interrupted by tiny hiccups and squeaks, his hot tears soaking into the thick material of your soft sweater. You rubbed slow circles in between his shoulder blades, unsure of how to comfort him aside from offering sweet reassurances. His arms clutched around you tighter, pulling your body even closer to him. Eventually, when his cries had quietened, his sobs less frequent, you knelt down before him, his head emerging from the fabric of your sweater as you did so. Your heart cracked in two at the sight of his swollen eyes, his cheeks blotchy and red, his eyes teary. You ran the backs of your hands across his cheeks tenderly, collecting any stray tears from his hot skin before leaning in to press an adoring kiss to his swollen, salty lips. “Baby?” You asked, his eyes slowly rising to meet yours. He sniffled, but replied with a thick, “yeah?” “What’s the matter? I’ve seen you like this before.” With another sniffle, he looked down at the floor, his shoulder curving inwards with vulnerability. “It’s nothing.” You scoffed lightly, searching his eyes. “It’s most certainly not nothing, mister. You shattered Winter’s favourite vase, she won’t be very happy.” You were joking of course, just trying the lighten the mood. But his face hardened at the mention of her name, his eyes narrowing to puffy slits. “That bitch.” He spat, taking you by complete surprise once more as he stood up abruptly, stepping around you and heading for the door. “No, Kai. Wait.” You begged, catching his hand just as he reached the door. He spun on you, but you didn’t shrink away. “Tell me what’s happening. What’s going on with Winter?” His lip curled but you held your ground, staring right at him. “She betrayed me. And the rest of us. “Rest of who?” You didn’t even know why you bothered asking, you knew exactly what he was referring to. “The fucking cult.” He gritted out. Your heart sank at the mention of the cult; you didn’t associate with it. You pretended that it didn’t exist and Kai let you. It was just apart of your dynamic. “She’s been spying on me or some shit. A mole. She’s the one who has been planting those fucking bugs all over the house.” His eyes glinted with returning wildness. You released his hand, running your palms over your face. “Have you spoken to her?” Kai seemed to still at this, his eyes glazing over with cold fury. “No.” He spat, once again turning for the door. You grabbed ahold of his forearm, stopping him once more. “Don’t you think that it would be a good idea to actually talk to her about it before jumping to a conclusion? Who did you even hear that from?” Kai’s cheeks reddened once more with agitation at the truth of your words. His gaze once again dropped to the floor, Kai finding your feet suddenly very interesting. “Speed Wagon.” He mumbled. “Speed - Speed Wagon?” You repeated, incredulity evident in your tone. “Yes.” His answer was short, blunt. You sighed through your nose, watching as Kai’s eyes once again filled with tears. “No, look it’s okay.” You hurried, moving your grip from his arm to his hand, pulling him back over to the bed as his lower lip wobbled. “I’m sorry, I... I wouldn’t get it.” You excused, feeling guilty for being so submissive at his explanation. Even if you knew very little about it, you knew how much his cult meant to him. “No, it’s fine.” He mumbled, his face red as he swiped away the few tears that rolled down his puffy cheeks. “It’s not, you’re stressed out and I -” The rest of your words were snatched from you when Kai’s hand clasped suddenly onto your throat, pushing you back and pinning you the bed. You let out a surprised squeak, your eyes wide as Kai’s face appeared above yours, his hair hanging limply around his face. “I said, it’s fine.” He hissed, his eyes flashing as his hand pressed your throat even further into the mattress, constricting your air flow and leaving you gasping to suck down as much air as would fit around his hold. “Kai.” You rasped, frozen in place under his harsh stare, his palm warm and rough in its position on your neck. “Why can’t you understand?” He growled, pulling your upper body off the bed slightly before slamming you back down in emphasis, the springs hidden in the mattress creaking with the impact. You stared up at him, your eyes widened in a silent plea. His pupils dilated suddenly, his jaw relaxing as he hurriedly released you, sitting back on the bed beside you. Sitting up slowly, you stared at him, ignoring the slight ache in your throat when you swallowed. Kai exhaled through his nose slowly, his hand raising to push back the free strands of limp blue hair. “Sorry.” You whispered into the silence, watching him wearily. He had scared you. His dark eyes flicked to yours, his gaze now tamed. Beholding the fear he had instilled in you, he shook his head. “Don’t you dare apologise. I’m sorry.” “No, I shouldn’t have pushed-” “Stop. I’m sorry. ” Your rambling was interrupted by perhaps the most genuine apology you had ever received from him, causing words to evade you completely. Kai looked away, his hands itching to reach for you and pull you to him. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, walking with trailing steps to the door. You surveyed him carefully, watching the tension in the hand he placed on the handle of the door. “I understand if you want to leave. I need to go to my meeting.” And with that he left, his evident remorse still hanging thick in the air. You stared after him as he shut the door with careful restraint, clearing your throat with a small wince and trying to unpack what the hell had just happened. His grasp on your throat still lingered as the ghost of a touch, the image of his wild eyes flashing down at you prominent in the forefront of your mind. And it broke your heart to allow the thought to manifest but you knew that the Kai you had just witnessed was the Kai walking down the stairs to the basement. It was all you do but hope that the Kai that emerged from his cult meeting wasn’t the same Kai that had just left the room as you lay back on the bed, running a single finger across the hollow of your throat and settling into the silence of the room.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler

#american horror story #ahs #american horror story fandom #ahs fandom #american horror story fanfiction #ahs fanfic #kai anderson #ahs cult #cult #ahs season 7 #kai anderson x reader #kai x reader #kai anderson angst #evan peters #evan peters ahs #evan peters fandom #evan peters fanfic #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader

292 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 3 years

Text

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. T͟h͟i͟s͟ ͟c͟h͟a͟p͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟s͟p͟e͟c͟i͟f͟i͟c͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ ͟h͟a͟s͟ ͟m͟e͟n͟t͟i͟o͟n͟s͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟d͟e͟a͟l͟s͟ ͟w͟i͟t͟h͟ ͟m͟i͟s͟c͟a͟r͟r͟i͟a͟g͟e͟ ͟a͟n͟d͟ ͟s͟e͟x͟u͟a͟l͟ ͟a͟s͟s͟a͟u͟l͟t͟.͟ Please be warned.

Word Count: 14,637

Please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page if you are able. Link in my bio & Masterlist.

A/N: “Courage” officially broke my record for most notes on a debut chapter, so thank you all so much for all your likes and reblogs! This chapter is more serious in parts, but we get to see an evolving Effie and an evoling Effie/Matthew dynamic. Enjoy!

* * * * *

Effie. Her name was Effie. And everybody knew it.

Rachel was no more. Rachel was a thing of the past and she was going to stay there. Rachel was a person who had been hurt and abused. Rachel was named by an abusive, violent, cruel, despicable tyrant who called himself Abraham and proclaimed he was a prophet. Rachel was a girl with no voice, no agency, nothing to call her own. Rachel was a girl who belonged to someone.

Effie was new. Effie was her chosen name and a thing of the future. Effie was a person learning to come to terms with her trauma after years of hurt and abuse. Effie was name by herself, for herself, to reclaim her identity after years of it being denied to her. Effie was a girl with a voice, agency, and even though she could only count a few things as her own, they were just that – her own. Effie was a girl who belonged to nobody but herself.

That was how she liked it.

Naming herself instilled a new sense of confidence within her. It was small, and it was gradual, but the people around her could notice it. Matthew knew he could. She was more assertive…in her own way. She didn’t ask “Can I ask you a question?” before asking questions anymore. She just asked. She was proud of her learning and was getting used to showing it off. Her independence increased. She’d walk to Starbucks to get her strawberry frappucinos instead of having Jenna drive her. She engaged in more conversation. She made jokes. She laughed at jokes. She went grocery shopping with Jenna and said “I want to buy corn dogs” so she and Jenna bought corn dogs and they had them for dinner one night. She went to Levi and said “I want to get a phone so I can text Annica” and so he gave her an old iPhone he had in the house. She asked Annica more about makeup, even though she was still a bit apprehensive about using it. She asked Geneviève about words she’d read and wanted to know more about. Feminism (that was the best word she learned, Effie thought. She was a feminist). Socialism. Communism. Democracy. Geneviève explained them all to her. She asked Geneviève about pants.

She wore pants.

It was weird at first, wearing pants. She’d only ever worn skirts and dresses, even in the privacy of her own home when she was in the cult. The prophet demanded it; women were not allowed to wear pants. So when Jenna encouraged her to try on an old pair of jeans that she had, Effie did. They were big – Effie was still, well, small, and gaining weight every day – but Effie liked them. “Can I buy a pair of jeans?” she asked Jenna. Jenna promised to take her shopping at the mall on the weekend. It would be Effie’s first time in a mall.

Effie wanted to be fearless, but there was still a lot of fear in her. Everything was so new, and so big, and sometimes so complicated, and she wished things were easier but she knew they couldn’t be. But instead of before, when she would let the fear overcome her, she embraced it instead. She worked through it. She did things in spite of the fear. She did things because she didn’t want the fear in her anymore.

That’s why she found herself walking now. Walking to Starbucks. Well, not to Starbucks exactly, but to the complex that held the Starbucks and a bunch of other stores. Effie had noticed one particular one a few storefronts down and had taken mental note of it for when she was ready for it. And now, walking with purpose through Aspen Woods, clutching something very important in the pocket of her jacket, she was ready.

“Chop it all off.”

“What?!” the hairdresser shrieked as she looked at Effie through the mirror, after putting a robe around her and running her hands through her long blonde hair. “But your hair! It’s healthy and it’s long and luscious and—and it would be a disservice if I chopped it all off!”

“Please. I need you to cut it. I need you to—”

“This is the greatest head of hair I’ve ever seen—”

“You don’t understand,” Effie interrupted. “I escaped a cult. I escaped The People’s Dominion of Christ. This hair was never mine; it was always someone else’s. I need you to cut it off so that it’s mine, so that something on my body is mine for once in my life.”

The hairdresser looked at Effie through the mirror, blinking a few times as she realized what Effie was saying. Without saying another word, she reached over to her station and grabbed her scissors. “How much do you want off?” she asked.

Effie unfolded the picture from one of Jenna’s old magazines that she had crumpled in her hand, showing the stylist. “Like this,” she said. “I don’t even want it touching my shoulders.”

The hairdresser nodded, placing the picture face up at her station so Effie could look at it as the hairdresser did her magic. She took one last look at it before tying an elastic loosely around the hair. “Ready?” she asked, gripping it.

Effie nodded firmly. “Ready.”

***

Effie had six numbers stored on her phone. Levi. Jenna. Annica. Geneviève. Jacob Markstrom. Matthew Tkachuk.

“Hello?” he asked as he picked up his phone.

His voice was a welcome sound to Effie, who was nervous but excited as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Matthew? I’m—I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come pick me up?”

“I—yeah—is everything okay?” his voice sounded immediately worried. “Where are you?”

Effie didn’t even know. She covered the receiver with her hand and turned towards the hairstylist. “What’s the address?”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13.”

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13,” she repeated into the phone.

Matthew was officially confused. “The Starbucks complex?”

“Yes…but a few stores down,” Effie informed him.

“I’ll be there in like, five minutes.”

***

Matthew was nervous. Effie hadn’t sounded nervous on the phone, but he was still nervous. It was out of the ordinary for her to call him to pick her up from anywhere, let alone from a place where she knew how to get home from now that she took the initiative to walk most places she wanted to go. It wasn’t like he was going to deny her – he was speeding through the streets, if he was being completely honest – but the thoughts in his mind were running a mile a minute, and he had no clue what to expect.

When he pulled into the complex, he searched for unit 13 and parked right in front of it. It was only when he turned off his car that he actually saw the name of the store he’d parked in front of. Abigail’s Hair Salon.

Matthew walked in.

He stopped dead in his tracks. In front of him, Effie stood sheepishly, her long, flowing blonde hair chopped off almost completely, and in its place, a chic blonde bob, perfectly styled and perfectly her. She had a t-shirt, baggy skinny jeans, and old Doc Martens on – no doubt all borrowed from Jenna – and she looked like a vision. He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. “Effie,” he said her name bashfully, breathlessly, because it was so much to take in and she just looked so…cute.

“Does it look nice?” she asked, patting it down at the sides.

“It looks great, Effie,” Matthew said, and she could tell he meant it sincerely. He bit his bottom lip before continuing his line of questioning, even though all he wanted to do was look at her. “You wanted it this short?”

Effie nodded her head.

“It suits you,” he nodded. “Did you pay?” Effie nodded her head. “Did you tip?”

Effie looked scared for a moment. “Tip?”

Matthew automatically took out his wallet and pulled a $50 from inside, giving it to the hairstylist. He turned to Effie without another word. “Wanna grab some lunch?”

“You—you’re not busy? I thought you would just drive me home.”

“Let’s grab lunch,” he said casually, like it was no big deal. “Grab your jacket. What do you feel like eating?”

***

Matthew watched Effie for most of the meal, if he was being honest. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her regardless of how hard he tried. But he kept any emotions or any feelings at bay, kicking himself for anything he was feeling that was…questionable. He didn’t want to be that guy. He didn’t want to make things more complicated for her when she was already learning so much, when the world was already a complicated place for her and she was trying to find her place in it.

“What team does your brother play for?” Effie asked, picking at her plate left with all her fries. She ate her bacon cheeseburger first and devoured it in less than ten minutes. For Matthew, it was impressive. He knew she was trying to gain weight. He shuddered to think what she looked like a year ago.

“The Ottawa Senators,” he replied.

“In the capital city,” she said, and Matthew nodded his head. “You must be very thankful that he’s in Canada with you. What about your sister?”

“She plays field hockey at the University of Virginia.”

Matthew watched as Effie furrowed her brows. “She can play sports and go to university? That’s a thing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Matthew smiled, chuckling slightly. “She’s a great field hockey player. She committed to the school when she was a junior – when she was sixteen – and now she’s finally on campus. She’s going to school too, obviously. That’s the most important thing. But she’s also playing Division 1 field hockey.”

Effie nodded her head, considering all the things Matthew had just said. Women could go to university – she knew that now thanks to Jenna and Geneviève. But…women could play sports and go to university? Women could play sports for their university? That was new information. Effie thought about girls playing hockey and whether or not they could do the same thing. She thought to Levi watching Toronto Raptors games at home and wondering if women could do the same thing with basketball. She had not been allowed to play sports. Anything more than running, women were not allowed to do. Taryn had been sixteen and had committed to play field hockey for a university. When Effie was sixteen, she was definitely not doing that. “Your sister is very lucky,” she said softly. “To be able to do that. She’s very lucky.”

Matthew knew there was weight behind those words. They weren’t to be taken lightly. He could only imagine what Effie was up to when she was sixteen years old as opposed to Taryn. “She knows,” Matthew said. “Taryn’s a really smart girl. She knows she’s really lucky.”

“It’s kind of nice how in the normal world, women can go to university, and get an education, and play sports, and do whatever they want, and wait to have their children,” Effie said.

Matthew shrugged. “If they even want kids at all. I know some of my friends back home don’t want them. Nobody says women have to have them,” he said it like a throwaway comment, looking down at his plate to grab a fry and dip it in some ketchup.

Silence. Pure silence from Effie. He stuck his fry in his mouth and noticed how quiet it got and he looked up with half the fry in his mouth and half the fry still between his fingers, like a dumbass, only to see Effie staring at him with a blank look on her face. When he looked closer, he saw her eyes were glossy. He gulped. “Wh…What do you mean that women don’t have to have children?” she asked.

Matthew chose his words carefully. He should have known. He should have fucking known, but he just had to go open his big mouth. Now, he realized the words he was about to say would change Effie’s perception of things dramatically. The last thing he intended was for the conversation to swerve in a direction like this, but they were here now, and he had to live with it. Own up to his actions. Be the person he promised himself he would be around her. “So, like…women in modern society have the choice. They can choose not to have children. Some women don’t want to become mothers. It’s a personal choice. And nowadays, women don’t feel as pressured to have families. Like, maybe they want to pursue a career instead, but it’s not even that. You can just…not want children.”

Effie had heard the word of God her entire life. It was the first thing she remembered; it was her earliest memory. Some days – on bad days – it was her only memory, the thing that haunted her most at night, and she’d toss and turn in her bed to try and get the rolls and rolls of scripture out of her head. Be fruitful and multiply. Be fruitful and multiply. Be fruitful and multiply. But this – what Matthew was telling her – this was not the word of God. This was something else. This went against everything she knew. This went against everything she was brought up to believe. “Oh, okay,” she whispered.

Matthew could tell he had just said something to Effie that rocked her foundation. And then he thought to himself ‘Of course this would be happening. Everything is new for her.’ The modern world was completely alien to her. She didn’t know anything. No women’s liberation. No women’s rights. No individuality. Voting. Elections. Doctors. Hospitals. Jeans. T-shirts. Wearing her hair however she wanted. Makeup. Cell phones. Instagram. Twitter. Snapchat. Hockey – literally the most unimportant thing at this point. She was learning, and making great progress, but things like this – these big ideas – still shook her to her core. They went against everything she knew and everything she was brought up to believe. It wasn’t easy for any person to have their foundation cracked; Matthew knew it would be even harder for her.

“Can you excuse me for a second?” Effie said suddenly, not bothering to hear an answer from Matthew before she pushed her chair back and stood up from the table, escaping back into the restaurant.

Matthew felt like there was cement in his feet as he replayed the moment over and over in his mind, the sight of Effie’s glossy eyes realizing children were optional in the real world burning itself into his mind forever. God, to find out this way – over bacon cheeseburgers at some restaurant and not in a safe space where she felt comfortable. To have it be him, a man, that told her this instead of someone like Jenna, or Geneviève, who had been teaching her everything. He was an idiot. He was such an idiot.

A jolt of electricity struck through his body and finally jolted him out of his seat, his legs making him run towards the back of the restaurant near the washrooms where he knew Effie went. “Effie? Effie?” he called out as he opened the door to the women’s washroom.

When he stepped inside, he saw Effie huddled in a heap on the floor, her knees to her chest as tears flowed down her face. Her skin was red and blotchy and he could see her chest heaving up and down. “Effie—” he bent down to be at eye level with her.

“I need you to take me home.”

“Effie—” he reached out to touch her.

The second – the millisecond, the nanosecond – that Effie felt his touch for the first time, her entire body flinched so violently away from him that it scared him. Matthew recoiled his hand quickly as his breath caught in his throat. “I’m sorry—I’msosorry—I’m so sorry—” he stuttered out.

She was silent as she looked at him for a moment through her tears. There was a look of pure fear in her eyes that Matthew hadn’t seen before, not even the first time he met her at Noah’s birthday at the steakhouse. “What if women can’t have children?” she asked, her voice so small and frail that it broke Matthew’s heart.

He struggled to find the words because it was such a simple concept for him but such a complicated one for her. “That’s…that’s not their fault,” he said calmly, but the tone of obviousness was still apparent.

“What do you mean it’s not their fault?” Effie’s tone was incredulous, like a seven-year-old child learning prematurely that there was no Santa Claus.

“It’s not their fault, Effie,” he reiterated, not knowing how else to explain it. “I…it’s not their fault. It can be a medical thing. I mean most of the time it is, if they can’t have children. And it’s not their fault,” he just kept repeating it.

“What if…what if women don’t want to have children, but can? Are…are they punished?” she asked.

“Why would they be punished? No,” he shook his head.

“Matthew…” she was apprehensive. “Are you telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you Effie,” he said softly, wanting so desperately to just reach out and touch her, hug her, but knowing that if he did, he’d just inflict more fear in her. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s the truth. Some women can’t have children, and some of them don’t want children, and both of those things are perfectly okay.” He watched as the tears streamed down her face as she stared him in the eye. Shaking.

Then it finally hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Effie…” he said uneasily.

“There were seven.”

The words hung in the air for an unknown amount of time. It could have been years for all Matthew knew. But as he stared into Effie’s eyes, he felt an incredible pain in his heart; a pain reserved only for her, that only she could give him. He thought of how she kept all her own pain inside her constantly, how the trauma was a part of her just as her hair, her fingers, her toes were. She carried this with her every single day. Every. Single. Day.

“It’s not your fault, Effie,” he whispered. He knew better than to try to reach out and touch her again. So he settled on words, because words were his best option. “It’s not your fault.”

***

“Did you really think you’d be able to come to a therapist’s office and think you’d be able to discuss a patient?”

Matthew stared at Dr. Jessica Barlow sitting across from him – her seated on her plush chair, him sitting on the couch he was sure all her patients sat on – and he didn’t really appreciate her tone of voice. So maybe it wasn’t the most flawless plan. Maybe there were holes. But he was there, damnit, and there for a good reason. The best reason. She was the best psychotherapist that specialized in cults in Alberta – probably in western Canada, judging by how many degrees and certificates and awards she had displayed in her office. She was the best and most qualified person to help Effie, surely, which is why Effie met with her three times a week. That meant she was also the best and most qualified person to help Matthew.

“Maybe,” he mumbled out. Matthew would have been intimidated, but for some reason, he wasn’t. Even considering they were alone in her office, even considering he’d never met or been to a therapist before, he wasn’t nervous or intimidated. He was determined. “I need you tell me what I need to do. Tell me. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

“For who?”

“Effie Schaffer.”

Dr. Barlow looked incredulous, like a mix between seeing a ghost and not believing the words that were coming out of Matthew’s mouth. But then he watched as her face softened slightly, and turn inquisitive instead of suspicious. “You’re Matthew,” she said, framing it as a statement more than a question.

He knew what that meant. “Effie’s told you about me?” he asked.

It was a lost cause – he knew that the second the question left his lips, because he knew Dr. Barlow wouldn’t tell him a word. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. If dentists couldn’t even talk about their patients, there was no way in hell a psychotherapist who worked with cult survivors would say a peep about anything. “Effie’s opened up to you quite a bit, hasn’t she?”

Matthew leaned in. “Yes. That’s why I need you to help me. I want – I need to know how to help her.”

“Matthew,” Dr. Barlow took off her glasses. “First you need to tell me why you want to do this,” she said matter-of-factly.

Matthew didn’t want this to become a session. It wasn’t about him; it was about Effie. “I’ve just become her friend, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately, and—and I just want to know what I can do to help her get even better.”

“Because you’re her friend.”

“Yes.”

“Because you care about her.”

“Well, yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about her in any capacity.”

Dr. Barlow paused. “It’s not that simple, Mr. Tkachuk—”

“Why not?” he asked, interrupting her. “She’s leaps and bounds better than when she escaped! At least according to her brother!” he defended himself. “Listen, I know it hasn’t been a long time that I’ve known her but I – damnit, I can help her. I can help her but I don’t want to hurt her – I never want that to happen ever again, even if it’s by accident, and you need to tell me. You need to tell me how I can do that so I can actually do it.”

Dr. Barlow stayed silent. “You’ve already been incredibly patient with her,” she chose her words wisely. Matthew could read between the lines. So maybe Effie spoke about him more than he initially thought. “We should just leave it at that. I appreciate the effort, but—"

“She told me how there were seven,” he said, his voice steady and calm but firm and resolute. When he looked up at Dr. Barlow, she was staring back at him with a stoic yet shocked look on her face. “She told me there were seven, and when I tried to—to console her, to touch her, the way her body jumped away from mine…I…” he trailed off. He rubbed his fingers against his lips nervously.

“So then you know and realize that Effie was a member of a religious cult where she was routinely raped by its leader so he could impregnate her with the son of God for almost five years.”

It was the first time the word had been said out loud. He didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted it burned from his memory, from Effie’s memory, from the dictionary, everywhere. He knew it happened but he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Saying the word out loud made it different; it made it real. It made him acutely aware of the trauma Effie had been through, and how she didn’t deserve any of it, yet she was burdened with it for the rest of her life. He was biting down on his bottom lip so hard he thought he’d draw blood. “Yes,” he said curtly. “I realize.”

“I know how close – relatively – you and Effie have gotten ever since you were introduced. Her progress has increased dramatically since it,” Dr. Barlow began, again choosing her words wisely. “I know everything you two talk about on your Starbucks dates. I know you introduced her to candy and watched Little Women with her. Matthew – I’m not telling you this because I’m making some point that Effie tattles and tells me everything about her relationship with you. I’m telling you this because you’ve already been doing what you need to do. You didn’t need to come here and ask me for specifics.”

“But I don’t want to hurt her,” Matthew said, his voice barely above a whisper. “What happened that day when she told me and when—when I tried to touch her…”

“It might take a while for her body not to seize up anytime a man touches her,” Dr. Barlow said. “That doesn’t mean she’s not making progress. It’s the mental progress we want to see. And it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong, either. Just give her time, Matthew. Exercise patience with her.”

***

The next time Matthew saw Effie, she didn’t know he was coming. But he called Levi and made sure it was okay, and so when he descended down the stairs into the basement and saw Effie’s bedroom door opened, he took a deep breath. He collected himself. And he moved forward. He knew he didn’t have to do this – any outsider would have said that – but he knew he needed to do it. He needed to make it right.

“Effie?” he knocked lightly on her door before stepping into the door frame, finding her sitting at her desk reading something.

She turned her head to look at him and a smile appeared on her face. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders to see her smiling. He didn’t exactly think she’d be cradled in a corner crying, but he did think that maybe she wouldn’t be happy to see him. It was a relief. “Hi Matthew.”

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” she nodded, pushing her desk chair out as he walked in slowly. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been okay…” he said, biting down on his bottom lip nervously. “How—I mean, have you been okay since that day?”

He saw something flash behind her eyes – a memory of the tears, the feeling, the questions. He knew he relived it every other minute since it happened because he felt so guilty about it. He wondered if Effie relived it every moment too and whether or not it brought her constant pain. Matthew would never forgive himself if it did. “I’ve been good. Learned a lot, as you can imagine,” she joked slightly. “I read up on what we talked about. Geneviève helped me.”

“So you know it’s a thing now.”

Effie nodded. “It made me realize I never want children.”

Matthew should have been shocked by that statement, but he wasn’t. Knowing what Effie had been through, he understood why she wouldn’t want them. It was her choice to make and hers only, and nobody could or should influence her otherwise. “That’s good. Good that you can…you know, say that out loud. That you’re not forced into something you don’t want anymore.”

Effie nodded her head. “I knew it all along. I mean, children are a blessing, but they’re not for me. And knowing the way I was brought up, with abuse and no loving parenting from my parents or from anyone around me, I don’t want to pass that legacy on. I’m too scared to fall back into that. I’d have no idea how to raise a child. I know that now,” she said, watching as Matthew walked further into the room and lean back slightly on her desk. She looked up at him. There was a moment of silence between them as they were just there, staring at each other in her bedroom. Effie tried not to get lost in his blue eyes. She wondered if he could see past her calm exterior. “I’m sorry that I flinched away from you that day,” she said quietly.

“I should be the one apologizing—”

“No,” she said as sternly as she could, getting him to stop. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. You didn’t hurt me that day, so don’t think you did. I just…I get apprehensive about touch, because we weren’t allowed to, and because once I finally was, it wasn’t…nice,” she revealed, knowing he’d get the point. “But I know that your touch is nice.”

“How do you know?” Matthew asked.

“Because you’re a nice person.”

She took it upon herself to look at his hands. They were on either side of his body, gripping her desk just in case it collapsed under his weight or something – who knows. But they were there, exposed, for her to look at. They were big – bigger than Abraham’s – and younger, of course, rougher around the edges due to hockey but still better than the only other pair of hands she’d had experience with.

He caught her looking. Slowly, almost painstakingly slowly, he brought his right hand up and opened it, palm facing her, fingers pointing up towards the sky. He watched as Effie brought her hand up too, even slower than he had, opening it up and facing her palm towards his. There were a few moments where she was stagnant, thinking about how this was the first time she was going to touch a man other than her predator fake husband or her brother. Then she moved her hand closer. Closer. Closer.

When she finally touched Matthew – when she finally touched him – a million electric bolts ran through her body. The feeling of his skin on hers, his delicate yet rough touch as she pressed her small hand into his large one so she could feel his entire hand on her hand – it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. The simplest action gave her the most surreal feeling. There were no words for it. No words, in fact, because all she could do was smile. A big, wide smile, spanning from ear to ear as she kept her hand against his.

Matthew smiled too.

***

“This was a very quick progression from ‘Can women get tattoos?’ to ‘I’m getting a tattoo’, you know,” Geneviève laughed as she and Annica watched Effie take a seat in the tattooist’s chair. The tattoo artist, a young woman with sleeves of her own, was preparing everything appropriately as the women chatted. “The turnover rate was, what, a week?”

“Less,” Annica giggled.

“When I went to the orthodontist’s when I was ten, I saw a man there with his entire arm covered in tattoos. I was so scared I started crying. I asked the prophet about it when I got back to Sheerness and he said they were marks of sinners and that the devil influenced them,” Effie laughed along with them. “But I see them on people at Starbucks all the time. I think they look really nice.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you want what you’ve requested? You’re not gonna regret it, right?” Annica wanted to make sure Effie was making the right decision.

Effie nodded her head emphatically. “Definitely. Definitely.”

“What is it? Can we see it?” Geneviève asked.

Effie shook her head. “I want it to be a surprise,” she said, biting her lip. “You guys don’t think I’m crazy, do you? Doing this to my body?”

“Absolutely not,” Geneviève replied automatically, her tone telling Effie that the notion was absurd. It was nice for Effie to know that the two women in front of her would never judge her. It was nice to know a woman could be supported in her decisions, and not be told it would make God angry and that she was sinning and going against the prophet. “It’s your body, remember? Your body, your choice.”

Effie nodded after a moment. “My body, my choice.”

***

“It’s still a bit red and itchy. Annica said I need to put an elastic around my wrist and snap it whenever I want to itch it,” Effie said, her voice filled with excitement but a certain anxiousness that was characteristic to her.

“It’s alright. Just show me,” Matthew smiled as he watched her roll up the sleeve of her cardigan. When she finally did, and stretched out her arm, Matthew’s mouth gaped open. “It’s huge!” he exclaimed, definitely not expecting it to be that big. He thought Effie would get a dainty tattoo; something small. He didn’t exactly think she’d have a “go big or go home” attitude about a tattoo – something on her body forever. But it was big. It took up at least two-thirds of her forearm. The linework and shading were impeccable; the detail exquisite. It was made up of flowers – he didn’t know what kind – but they were big and small, all sizes really, and there were a few leaves, a few stems, and it just looked so beautiful. He brought his hand up to touch, but stopped himself. “Can I?” he asked.

Effie nodded. “You can touch me,” she said, preparing herself.

Matthew brought his hand up slowly. He touched her arm, grazing his fingertips over the linework delicately. It was still bumpy, a testament to how new it was. “It looks amazing, Effie,” he whispered, his fingers still grazing delicately.

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

“The best part?” he arched his eyebrow. What could be better than this?

She turned her arm over, palm facing up, where another large flower was tattooed on her skin. Matthew noticed some handwriting along the flower, and he leaned his head down to read it. ‘I am mine before I am anyone else’s’.

Matthew smiled from ear to ear. “Effie,” he whispered bashfully, just like he had when he saw that she cut her hair short for the first time. He was so bashful because he was so happy to be seeing her making her own decisions for once in her life. “Do you love it?” he asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. “I love it so much. It’s mine. It’s mine.”

***

“Did Jenna make these?” Matthew asked Levi once he was done with his stretches, noticing a giant Tupperware filled with some sort of cookies. Matthew had seen some of the other guys in the locker room with them and decided to investigate. He took a massive bite of one and his entire mouth watered. In that short moment, he was sure he’d never had a cookie so good in his life. “These are phenomenal,” he said with a full mouth.

“Nah, Jenna’s not a baker,” Levi shook his head. “Effie made those.”

Matthew’s brows rose. He gulped the bite of the cookie down. “Effie? Effie bakes?”

Levi smirked, side-eyeing him. “Effie knows how to make and churn butter from scratch. She had to learn in the cult. She knows how to bake and cook a lot of things because she had to be a traditional wife. But she enjoys baking the most. Baking is what brings her the most joy, so she’s started baking again.”

Matthew nodded nonchalantly. “She can bake all kinds of stuff then?”

“Bread, sweet stuff…yeah, pretty much,” he said. “She actually…well, she’s trying to find a job where she can put it to good use, since she actually likes doing it.”

“Effie’s getting a job?!” Matthew exclaimed, louder than he intended. Levi could only chuckle. Matthew felt the need to cover. “Where? What—where? What’s she gonna do? How is she—I mean, why?”

“She’s gotta support herself, doesn’t she? If she wants to move out, or earn her own money—”

“Effie’s moving out?!”

“She’s not moving out tomorrow, Matthew, but she’s going to be moving out soon.”

This was all news to Matthew, of course. He tried to play it cool, calming himself down and not making a big deal out of it – well, more than he already had. The fact that Levi, Jenna, and Effie were discussing jobs and moving out had absolutely nothing to do with him. He was just on the outside. He didn’t need to be part of the decision making at all…at all. But he still got nervous. Effie was still learning about a lot. And ultimately, at the end of the day, he wanted her to be safe. A safe job. A safe apartment. “Where’s she looking?”

“There’s a cute little hipster coffee shop in the downtown core she has an interview with,” Levi informed him. “If she gets the job, and if she enrols in the online business certificate program Geneviève recommended to her, I promised to pay three months worth of rent until she can pay it on her own. She’d earn enough from minimum wage and tips for sure, especially downtown.”

Hipster coffee shop. Online business certificate. New apartment. There was so much new information coming at Matthew that he didn’t know how to process it all. He was happy for Effie – he was – and he wished her only the best, but it was still a lot. “Well…when you need help moving, call me and we could put these muscles to work,” he said, flexing his arm for dramatic effect, trying to hide the fact that he so obviously cared, and miserably failing to hide that fact to Levi.

Levi let out a haughty laugh. “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

***

Matthew downed a shot of tequila – the good tequila – and smashed his shot glass down on the bar as the smooth liquid coated his throat and made his stomach burn. Noah let out a loud ‘Wooooo!’ and Sean, ever the dumbass, choked on it as it went down. Matthew almost spit up the shot out of laughter watching Sean struggle to swallow it, picking up his glass of whisky the bartender had just poured. “You’re already wrecked, buddy,” Matthew chastised him as he got control of his coughs. “You’re embarrassing.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sean sneered. “We all know you’re trying to get all your alcohol in before Effie gets here.”

Matthew chuckled. “Fat chance of that happening. Effie’s not coming.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Well, either I’m high or you’re wrong, because she just walked in the door.”

Matthew’s back stiffened as he whipped his head around to look through the crowd of people. Sure enough, he could see Effie raising her hand to chest level so the bouncer at the door could stamp her hand. Noah made a noise that sounded like a seagull and Sean let out a chuckle and a muffled “Dude owes me a fucking drink for that one”. Before Matthew’s legs could move him forward, he noticed Meredith approach Effie; she hugged her and Effie allowed Meredith to grab her hand so she could guide her through the crowd and into their spot at the back of the lounge. The music was loud and the floor felt like it was vibrating but it was nothing compared to the beat of Matthew’s heart.

Fuck.

When Meredith and Effie finally made their way through, he saw that Effie was wearing Jenna’s ballet flats, skinny jeans that were still a bit big, and a sequined top that fit so big any other girls in the club would have probably worn it as a dress. He could feel the whisky burning his stomach and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

“Effiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Claudia squealed once she noticed her, sauntering over to her in her high heels and bending down to hug her. “You made it! I’m sooooo happy!” she continued squealing. Matthew wondered if Effie noticed that Claudia was already drunk. “Is this your first time in a place like this?”

“Yeah,” Effie nodded her head nervously. “I’m sorry—I—I know I wasn’t supposed to be here and I said no, but—”

“Are you kidding? The more the merrier! Let me take you to Andrew so you can say happy birthday!”

Matthew watched as Claudia led her to Andrew, tapping him on the shoulder to reveal Effie. Andrew was happy to see her, and – knowing better than to go in for a hug – politely held his hand against his heart when she wished him a happy birthday. None of the guys on the team had ever touched her – well, except Matthew. He seemed to be the exception to a lot of things regarding Effie, and he was proud of that. He didn’t want anyone else touching her, even if they were his teammates.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

“You came alone?” Andrew asked her. Effie nodded. “We’ll have to find you Matthew then. He’d kill us if we didn’t tell him you were here.”

Matthew didn’t know what Andrew was saying – the music was too loud, and he couldn’t read lips – but the cement in his legs finally dissolved and he found himself walking over to them, wanting to make his presence known at that very moment. When Effie saw him, he could swear her face lit up. “Fancy seeing you here, Effie,” he smiled, holding his glass of whisky near his chest.

She went in for a hug.

Matthew was so shocked he almost didn’t hug her back. Even Andrew was looking at them like he’d just seen a monkey perform a magic trick. Matthew draped both arms around her and hugged her back, making sure not to spill his whisky all over her. He tried not to let it seem like he was shocked – hugs should be a normal thing for Effie, he thought – so when she pulled away, he was already smiling down at her. “What brought you here?”

“I wanted to see what these places are like,” she said when she pulled away. She took a look down at his drink. “Is that iced tea?”

“Whiskey.”

She looked around at everyone else, noticing they were all holding glasses with drinks in them too. “Is everybody drinking alcohol?”

“Pretty much,” Matthew giggled out.

“I’ve never drunk alcohol before,” she revealed.

“Do you want to try some?”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m not ready.”

“That’s okay. Do you want something to drink, then? Some water? I’m sure the bar can make you a virgin drink if you ask for it.”

“A virgin drink?”

“Virgin means no alcohol,” Matthew covered quickly. “They’ll make you whatever you want.”

Matthew watched as Effie considered it, looking over to the bar before she shook her head. “I’m not thirsty yet. I’ll go when I’m thirsty.”

***

Effie didn’t dance. She didn’t drink. All she did was look.

By looking, she was learning. She watched how people interacted with one another in this type of setting and she internalized it. She watched girls approach the bar and get served by the bartender. She watched as guys flirted with them and bought them drinks. She watched people take shots and then ask for another. She watched people get handsy, with touches on hips and lower backs and arms the most popular spots she saw men putting their hands on women. She watched people drag one another towards the dance floor. She watched kisses being placed on necks and shoulders and lips, tongues dragging across, shocked that people would be doing so out in the open. She watched girls raise their drinks in the air and kick their leg up as they posed for photos with their friends. She watched girls move their hips seductively. She watched guys getting their bodies as close to them as possible.

“What are they doing?” she asked Matthew as she watched them dancing like a hawk.

“Uh…it’s called grinding.”

She’d talk, and ask questions, and Matthew was beside her the entire time answering her questions and milking his whisky, not caring that he wasn’t partying with Andrew or with the other boys, because when Effie was around, he was all about Effie – nobody else mattered. He’d stay with her until last call if she wanted to stay that late. He’d already resolved that he’d be going home when she was going home because he needed to make sure she got back to Aspen Woods safe, and also because there was no reason to be at the club when Effie was gone.

Did he hear himself? Did he really just say there was no reason to be at a club full of beautiful girls during his friend’s birthday?

Fuck.

Noah, Sean, and Johnny ended up coming back to the booth for some water. Johnny made eyes at Matthew and Matthew subtly gave him the finger; Effie didn’t notice because she was looking over at the bar. “I’m thirsty. I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Let me go for y—”

“No,” she said sternly as Matthew was about to get up, standing up herself and holding her hand out. “I’ve watched. I know what I need to do. I can go.”

Matthew gulped. He didn’t want to deny her independence but he didn’t want her to go alone. “Are you sure?” he asked. She nodded, and Matthew had to let her go. And all he did was look.

***

Effie approached the bar slowly, trying not to get shoved around by people crowding around the bar. It was much busier actually being in the crowd than just looking at it, and Effie was almost regretting her decision. She’s never been in a place with so many people. Well, that was a lie, maybe – church was always busy, obviously, especially the church for the People’s Dominion. Sundays were the worst. But there were definitely not this many young people congregated in one place. Effie knew this is what young people did in the normal world – Geneviève told her so. It was one thing to know about it, to be apart from it in a different area and watch; it was something completely different, actually being in it.

She made her way to right behind a few people at the bar – some scantily clad girls with some really pretty dresses on. Effie admired their beauty. They had beautiful long eyelashes and their lips were red and berry-coloured. Their skin was flawless and tanned – weird for April in Calgary, but tanned nonetheless. Effie wondered if they were wearing makeup, and wondered whether or not she’d ever wear makeup herself. When they got their drinks, they began to move. One of them noticed Effie behind them and gave her a quick up-down. “Take our place, sweetie,” she said, letting Effie move into their place before she watched them make their way through the crowd and back onto the dance floor.

After watching, she knew now she had to get the attention of one of the bartenders. Every single one of them was busy pouring drinks. She watched as a couple of men on the opposite end of the bar raised their hands and the bartenders went over to them, so she decided to do the same. After a few minutes, a bartender came. “What can I get you?”

“Um, water please.”

“You driving tonight, darling?”

Effie shook her head. “I don’t drive. I just don’t drink alcohol.”

“Do you want anything more exciting? I mean I can at least get you ginger ale or a coke.”

Effie didn’t like coke – she thought it was too sweet – but when he mentioned ginger ale, she reconsidered. “Okay. Ginger ale is good.”

The bartender nodded, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice before getting the drink gun. “Do you have a tab going?”

What was a tab? Effie shook her head. “What’s a tab?”

The bartender looked at her skeptically. “How are you paying, darling? Are you with a party?”

“Oh! I’m here for Andrew’s party! Andrew Mangiapane.”

“Got it,” the bartender winked. “Here you go, darling. Enjoy.”

Effie grabbed the drink and took a sip out of the straw. It was nice and cold, just the way she liked it. Just as she was about to leave and go back to Matthew, a big body slipped into the empty space beside her. A man – a very large man, it seemed, though she was so small that every man looked large to her – took up all the space. He was looking down at her with a very, very amused expression on his face. “Ginger ale, girl?” he mocked her.

Effie couldn’t tell. “What’s wrong with ginger ale?”

“You’re gonna come out to a bar looking like a walking felon and order ginger ale?” he pressed, winking at her.

“A walking felon?” she repeating. She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said. “A real drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Wanna start?”

“No,” she said firmly.

“That’s fine. I can think of better things we can get up to than drinking, anyways,” he smiled.

Effie furrowed her brows. “Like what?”

The guy smiled, and it was creepy, and she finally saw behind his eyes every thought and every intention he currently had. “Let me show you,” he said, and Effie saw, out of the corner of her eye, that he was bringing his hand up to touch her. At the same time, he was leaning his head down.

“HEY!” a loud voice boomed, and Effie immediately recognized it as Matthew’s. Before she could even see him or realize where he was coming from, he squeezed his way in between him and the man. Matthew’s hands were now on her body instead, the man’s hand nowhere near her. “Get the fuck out of here, buddy.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You touch her one more time and you’re fucking dead,” Matthew growled.

“Dead, eh? So you get to touch her but I don’t?”

“Fuck off.”

Effie was taken aback by the anger in Matthew’s voice. She’d never seen or heard him so angry. She knew he was capable of it, by how he played hockey, but she didn’t think he’d be able to get this angry in a social setting. Her body tensed up. “Can we go back to our booth?” Effie asked loudly, placing her hand on Matthew’s, hoping to get his attention.

Matthew looked back at her quickly, and when he saw the trepidation on her face, he immediately listened to her. As he turned to leave, pushing Effie ahead of him with his hands still on her waist guiding her, he heard the man make one last call out to Effie. “You don’t want to have some fun, girl? I can show you a better time than this dick with my dick!”

Matthew had had it. He knew he couldn’t punch out a guy in a bar. He knew he couldn’t do much without causing a scene and the cops getting called and everything getting out of hand. So instead, he used everything at his disposal to make his point, the most important thing being his size. He turned around and flexed, standing up straight and making himself as physically big as possible, bumping up against the guy on the chest and backing him up against the bar. He had only a few inches on the guy, but he was suddenly intimidated. “You even so much as breathe in her general direction and I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth down your throat,” Matthew growled, making fists with his hands. He didn’t even wait for the guy to say anything. Instead, he just turned and walked away, noticing Effie waiting for him in the crowd.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, leading her out of the crowd and back to the booth.

“Are you sure, Matthew?”

“Positive,” he mumbled as they finally got to the booth.

Effie turned around to get a good look at him. She knew he was lying because she could see how angry he was on his face. She got nervous – really nervous. “Matthew—”

“Did he touch you? He didn’t touch you, did he?” Matthew demanded. He needed the answer to be no so he could calm down.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

Everything in Matthew suddenly cleared. All he saw – all he was able to see – was Effie’s face, and how nervous she was, and how she was looking up at him with a certain tenseness. “Effie—no—I could never be mad at you. I’m mad at that guy for being gross.”

He noticed Effie furrow her brows slightly. “Was he trying to get me to have sex with him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what he wanted. But he was being gross and the second I saw him wedge his way into the bar I got up.”

Effie nodded. “But you’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked again.

“Never, Effie. Never.”

***

Annica had never been more flabbergasted or without words than when Effie asked her to explain what Instagram was. Geneviève had to step in, giggling as she mixed together the baked feta pasta the girls were having for lunch. “It’s supposed to be a platform for sharing pictures,” Geneviève explained. “You know, like the book you’re reading, or where you’re going, if you go on vacation, or if you see something cool, or let’s say you go out to eat and you want to show what you’re eating…that sort of thing.”

“People want to know that stuff?” Effie asked innocently, causing the girls to giggle. “People want to know that about me?”

“I’d love to follow you on Instagram. I’d love to see how you see the world,” Geneviève said. “It would be a breath of fresh air, to be honest.”

“How would it be a breath of fresh air if everybody is doing it?” Effie asked again.

“Everybody’s not doing it. That’s the point,” Annica said. “Instagram has transformed into this, like…God, I don’t even know what to call it. It’s one big advertisement now.”

Effie considered what the girls were telling her. She trusted them both, which is why she asked. Annica talked about it a lot, and was on it a lot, which is why Effie became interested in it in the first place. Geneviève was on it too, of course, running her own account and also having access to the account for her literary magazine Atomic (she’d given Effie a bunch of old copies to read through, and she was going to devour them right after she finished Geneviève’s book, which was technically a collection of essays). For a girl who just wanted to be as normal as possible, it seemed to her like Instagram was the logical next step. “Can…can you guys help me make a profile?”

“Of course,” Annica said as all three of them sat down at the table. “We can do it after lunch.”

“I’m not your therapist, but you should use it to chronicle your journey and what you’re doing outside of the cult now,” Geneviève offered. “That’s what I meant when I said I’d love to see how you see the world. You can post all the things you’ve been baking recently, or the pretty things you see in Calgary when you’re out and about on one of your walks.”

The second that Geneviève mentioned ‘chronicle your journey’, it was like a switch went off in Effie’s brain. She nodded her head. “That’s what I’m gonna do. Let’s make a profile after lunch.”

***

FOLLOW REQUEST: effieschaffer7

You have accepted effieschaffer7’s friend request.

Effie?????

Hi Matthew

U made an insta?

Is it okay if I follow you? Annica helped me

Yes of course it’s okay if u follow me

I am going to post my baking I think

That’s good! I will have to try some one day

When you get back from the road trip there will be something new. Levi requested a lemon meringue pie and you can have some too if you want.

I’m gonna make sure Levi drives us home then

***

It was Effie who swung the door open excitedly. Matthew was excited to try the lemon meringue pie, but apparently she was excited about something else. Her eyes were as wide as the moon and as bright as the sun. “I got the job!” she screamed.

Levi dropped his bag as he screamed, catching her as she jumped from the doorway into his arms. Matthew started cheering too and started clapping; it was only then that Effie even remembered he was standing there, but he really didn’t mind. “Congratulations, Effie!” he smiled from ear to ear. “Look at you go!”

She let go of her brother, but still held on to his arms. “That means I can get the apartment! That means I can pay for the tuition for the business program! That means…I…I’m just so excited!” She looked over at Matthew, seeing his smile, and did the unexpected.

She hugged him. She jumped into his arms just like she did with her brother and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He reciprocated easily, wrapping his own arms around her too. “That’s amazing, Effie!”

“I just—aaaahhhhheeeeeppppp!” she half yelled-half squealed, letting go of Matthew so they could get back inside. April in Calgary was still cold. Both Matthew and Levi set their bags down at the front door and walked straight to the kitchen, following Effie who was practically kicking her heels up. “I can’t even speak! I mean, this is—this is me getting to work! I get to work! I get to make my own living and make my own money!”

“You should be really proud of yourself,” Matthew said as he sat down on one of the kitchen stools. “And you get to do something you like to do! Not a lot of people get to say that.”

She nodded enthusiastically, opening the fridge. “Here, try this,” she said, taking out the lemon meringue pie she had promised them. “The owner of the coffee shop said I’m going to start with cookies and brownies and small stuff like that, and then maybe I can expand,” she said.

She cut the pie, plated it for her brother and Matthew, and handing them forks. Matthew dug in automatically, shoving a giant piece in his mouth. The second it hit his tongue, he groaned. “Oh…oh Effie…” he said in between chews. “This is gonna be dangerous.”

“Is it good?”

“You may need to bake me something every day, now, Effie. Either that or I’m gonna come visit you every day.”

***

“Piiiiiiivvvooottttt!!!!!”

“If you say that one more time, I’m gonna kill you,” Matthew screamed at Sean holding the other end of the couch at the bottom of the stairs.

“Piiiiiiiiivvv—”

“Monahan!”

“Is everything okay, boys?” Effie’s sweet voice asked from the top of the stairs, popping her head out of her brand new apartment.

“We’re fine!” Matthew called out, not wanting her to worry. “Monahan is just being a jackass!”

“Am not!”

They got the couch upstairs. They got the bedframe upstairs. They got the mattress upstairs. In a little one-bedroom apartment above a storefront on 8th Avenue SW in downtown Calgary, Effie Schaffer was moving in. Well, Effie was in her apartment unpacking boxes and organizing everything. Levi, Matthew, Sean, and Jacob were helping move in her furniture. She was going to thank them gracefully with another pie – this time, she’d experimented with a banana cream pie with salty bourbon caramel. It was in the fridge waiting. Each of them would get a nice big slice.

Geneviève came over for a bit, helping Effie with organizing the kitchen. And Jenna dropped by after work, making sure everything was in order. Jacob and his piece of pie left with Geneviève, and Levi and his piece of pie left once he knew everything was in order, and Sean and his piece of pie left after he and Matthew had finished putting the couch together. Matthew hadn’t left with his piece of pie yet. Matthew stayed.

“This apartment is so great for you, Effie,” he said as he sat down on the couch, admittedly exhausted from all the hauling but despite that, still not wanting to leave. There was so much to do and say and admire with Effie now that people weren’t around, and though he’d never admit it out loud to them, he always wanted to be alone with her. It was different when he was alone with her. With other people around, he couldn’t stare at her too long without being caught, or they couldn’t talk about things from their previous conversations that only they knew about. With people gone, they could. He’d stay until Effie told him to go home; if she would even tell him to go home. He was unsure if she knew she could tell people to leave because she was tired or just wanted to be alone.

“Tomorrow Levi and I are going to go to the mall to get me a laptop for school,” she said, opening her fridge. “My course starts in June. It’s going to be really exciting.”

“That’s great,” he said, looking at her from the couch. “It’s business, right?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically. “Business administration. Are you going to come try this pie or what?”

Matthew hauled his sore body off the couch and made his way towards the kitchen, standing next to Effie as she sliced a piece of the pie for him. He reached over her head and grabbed two plates from the cupboard, setting them down. Their bodies were close – purposely, he had to admit selfishly, on his part – so that every time she turned the pie and made a slice, her arm and elbow would touch him. He watched as she carefully plated the slices.

Before she moved to grab the forks, she looked up at Matthew. “Can I try something?” she asked timidly.

He furrowed his brows slightly. “Of course.”

Effie hesitated, looking Matthew in the eye, wondering if she should really go through with what’s been on her mind since Andrew’s birthday party. She resolved with herself to never let fear get in the way of her making a decision in her new life, especially now that she was free to make those decisions. So she did it. She did what she wanted to do.

Effie Schaffer stood on her tip-toes and kissed Matthew Tkachuk.

It was light, chaste, and pure; no tongue, no longer than three seconds, and no warning. But she kissed him. With her eyes closed. And for the first time in a long, long, long time, when she closed her eyes and kissed someone her body didn’t seize up. When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t think of the other kisses she had to endure rather than enjoy. When she closed her eyes and kissed him, she didn’t see Abraham. Matthew’s lips were much softer; there was nothing about him like was like Abraham, not one atom on his body. She liked it that way. And the fact that she didn’t remember her past life when it happened made it all the better for her.

Matthew, for his part, was shocked. Shocked that she, Effie Schaffer, who grew up abused in a cult and didn’t start wearing pants until just a few months ago, would do something so forward. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want it to happen, because he did, against all of his better judgement and the rational side of his brain telling him not to. “Was that okay for you?” he asked softly.

Effie nodded. “Of course it was. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it would be okay for me.”

Matthew’s word vomit got the best of him. “Do you think it—”

“Don’t talk to me like you’re my therapist please,” she said quickly. “Talk to me like you’re a guy.”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

Effie looked down, suddenly nervous. She wasn’t second-guessing her decision to kiss him, but what she was doing now was wondering what Matthew thought of it. He’d kissed her back. He didn’t just stand there and take the kiss – he kissed her back. He moved his lips too. That meant something, right? “Matthew?” she finally asked, her voice soft.

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“Of course I like you, Effie.”

“No, I mean do you…do you like me. Like how boys like girls sometimes.”

Matthew looked her in the eye, his entire ego dropping to the pits of his stomach. Having the completely inability to be able to lie to her, he gave her a quick nod of the head. “Yeah, I do.”

Effie bit her bottom lip. She didn’t know a lot, but she knew this was a huge moment. But she swallowed hard, her thoughts getting the best of her. “Even after everything that happened to me?”

Matthew’s heart broke. It always did when he spoke with Effie. “Of course,” he said simply. “You’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more than that, Effie.”

Effie nodded her head. She knew that. Dr. Barlow, Levi, Jenna, Geneviève – everyone important in her life had been telling her that. She knew it was true, but she needed to hear the words from Matthew. She couldn’t just assume them. “I want to let you know that was the first time in my life that I’ve initiated…physical contact with a man,” she said quietly, her voice just above a whisper. “I did it…I did it with you because I feel comfortable with you. I wouldn’t have even thought about doing that a year ago but…but you’ve really helped me these past few months, and you make me feel so comfortable to try new things like corn dogs or kissing. Even just…you know, touching. I just want you to know that.”

Matthew nodded. This was huge. He was pretty sure he hadn’t let out a breath since her lips met his. “I hope you always feel comfortable around me.”

“I think I will,” she said, smiling slightly.

Matthew smiled. “Well, in that case, can I kiss you again?”

“No.”

Matthew chuckled to himself. Her deadpan delivery dissolved everything. She was in total control. “Fair enough.”

Effie moved to grab the forks from the drawer she was standing in front of. Before she put them on the plates, she looked up at him again. “But if I kissed you again, would you like it?”

Matthew nodded his head. “Would you?”

Effie nodded her head.

***

“What about this?” Matthew asked, pointing to a fake plant hanging from a little black pot. “Everybody loves fake plants.”

Ikea had a lot of options – too many, if Effie was being honest. But she nodded her head, and Matthew took the initiative to grab the plant and put it in the cart. There were a bunch of frames already in there, and some decorative stuff for her new place. “Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he looked down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I’ve got an Americano with room for milk for Matthew!” the barista called out, setting the drink down on the counter. Matthew approached to grab his drink, bringing it to the other station where he was able to pour in his milk and two packs of brown sugar before popping the lid on. He rejoined Effie.

“Does it feel like you’re cheating when I bring you to Starbucks?” he asked her in a light-hearted tone.

“Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he was already looking down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

“I think these are your best ones yet,” Matthew said through a mouth full of chocolate-dipped almond biscotti. Effie was trying out recipes. He was her unofficial-official taste-tester. The whole team was, really. And if they sold well in the coffee shop, the manager would allow her to expand. So far, so good. “I love the almond flavour. It’s there but it’s not too strong, you know?”

He watched as Effie nodded her head. “Matthew?” she asked, looking at him eye-to-eye since he was sitting down on one of the stools in her kitchen.

He knew what was coming.

She leaned forward and kissed him. His lips tasted like almonds.

***

“Are you excited for the movie?” Matthew asked as he poured the popcorn from the steaming hot bag into the bowls Effie got for them.

“Very,” she nodded. Tonight they’d be watching Emma, the 2020 movie version of Jane Austen’s classic. Effie liked to see all the amazing clothes the women used to wear. A part of her wanted to dress up like that now, but she knew she’d get stared at. The other part of her never wanted to wear a dress again if she didn’t have to. “Matthew?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he looked down at her. He knew what was coming.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

It was always when the two of them were alone. It never happened when she would wait for him and Levi and Jacob with Jenna and Geneviève after games. It never happened if they were ever out with a big group, or even just with Levi and Jenna. Matthew was sure Effie had told them she was kissing him – she probably told Dr. Barlow too, now that he thought about it – but nobody had ever approached him about it. “I heard you’ve been kissing Effie.”

It was always the same, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. They were alone. They were usually doing something mundane. Then Effie would ask “Matthew?” in her soft, sweet voice. He’d look down at her. She’d go on her tip-toes, and she’d kiss him.

It was always initiated by her.

***

“Can I take you out on a date?” Matthew asked one day when they were alone in her apartment.

Effie looked shocked. Surprised, even, though Matthew didn’t think the question was out of the ordinary. “You…you want to go out on a date with me?” she asked.

“Yes, of course I do,” Matthew said, wanting there to be no doubts in her mind. “You know that I like you, Effie. I think it’s something that could be really fun for you…for us.”

Effie was deep in thought – Matthew could tell. She nodded slightly. “We have been doing a lot of kissing lately…” she mused. He couldn’t help but smile, even though it faded slightly when she looked up at him nervously. “Matthew, I—I’ve never been on a date before.”

“I figured as much.”

“I mean, I—even with Abraham. He never—I mean, I was just told I was marrying him because he wanted me. I told you that. But even before that. Women couldn’t date. Nobody could—I mean most couples were just thrust together, but—but—women weren’t even allowed in the same room alone with the opposite sex because we’d tempt them.”

“I know Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly. “Listen, if you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to. But you know that I like you. And I know you like me too. It’s what people do when they like each other. So if you’ll let me, we could go out for dinner or something. Nothing too big or fancy. Just a dinner.”

If she went on a date with Matthew, Effie would be giving a giant middle finger to her past. She would be asserting her agency in making her own choices. She’d be doing something she wasn’t allowed to do for eighteen years of her life. It was an action of justice at its very core – going on a date with a boy because she liked him and found him attractive. She wasn’t even allowed to touch other men besides her husband less than two years ago because of his abusive and totalitarian “sermons”. She remembered back to her begging to her mother not to get married at fourteen and her mother refusing to listen to her. Here was Matthew saying “If you’re scared or nervous or not ready, we don’t have to.”

Effie nodded her head. “I want to go out on a date with you.”

Matthew smiled bashfully. He was sure his cheeks were going to turn red like some sort of teenager. “What kind of food d’you wanna eat?”

***

“How’d you get that shiner, buddy?” Sean asked.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

“What the hell happened to you?” Johnny asked the moment he saw him in the locker room.

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled.

***

Mark Giordano was not happy to see one of his star players show up to the arena with a black eye. But he didn’t want to confront Matthew in a full locker room, so he waited until there was only a few people around – and even then, they were far away enough that he knew they wouldn’t really pick up on the conversation. “What the fuck happened to your eye?” Mark asked, approaching Matthew

“I’m not gonna talk about it,” Matthew mumbled, not even looking at his captain.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows. There had to be something, a clue of some sort, to help him get to the bottom of this. It was nobody’s birthday, so Matthew hadn’t gone out to a bar. He didn’t get into a fight or scuffle on the ice that was too bad, so it couldn’t have been that either. But then Mark remembered. “I thought you spent time with Effie last ni—”

“I said I’m not gonna talk about it!” Matthew hissed as he got up abruptly, stomping away and leaving the room.

Mark took a deep breath in, putting his hands on his hips. Kids. He had to get to the bottom of this. It was in his nature. And as captain, he took his role seriously. He needed to make sure his teammates were okay. The media was definitely going to pick up on the black eye, and they’d need a good cover. He left the locker room, following the path Matthew took, knowing he was probably letting off some steam in an empty trainer’s room. Mark popped his head into two of them before finding Matthew in a third, facing away from the door and taping his stick. Mark knew Matthew heard him walk in and shut the door behind him, but Matthew didn’t turn around.

“Sit,” Mark said sternly.

Matthew took a deep breath in but did as he was told. He wasn’t going to defy Mark – he respected him way too much. And he knew he had out let out the steam by telling someone, and Mark was probably the best person to tell.

Mark sat down casually beside him, hunched over with his elbows on his knees so it looked like they were about to have a casual conversation, just in case anyone else barged in. “Tell me what happened.”

Matthew took a deep breath. “I took her out on a date last night.”

“Effie.”

“Yeah,” Matthew nodded slightly. “And it was nice. We went to a really nice Italian restaurant downtown. She was having so much fun. And she came back to my place and—”

“Please don’t tell me—”

“No no—it wasn’t—no,” he emphasized. “I might be an idiot but I’m not that much of an idiot.”

“You can’t fault me for thinking it.”

Matthew shook his head. “She came back to my place and I guess—well, I guess because the whole thing was so new for her, it was mentally exhausting. She sorta kept saying how tired she was. I told her she could stay over. And it was fine. We were just sleeping in the same bed.”

“And then?”

Matthew grumbled. “And then I moved.”

There was a pause. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

***

“I’m so sorry,” Effie whispered through tears, looking at Matthew’s back as he sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a bag of frozen peas against his face.

The entire night had been lovely. She’d felt so good, and so comfortable, and so normal. The food was delicious. The walk through the park was magical. The thing’s they’d talked about ran through her mind the entire night. They hadn’t stopped talking. They’d gone back to his place. She was tired. He suggested she stay over, knowing Levi wouldn’t mind. She agreed. She borrowed an old t-shirt and shorts. They’d fallen asleep in his bed. And it was lovely.

And then at some point, in the middle of the night, with Effie’s back facing Matthew as he switched positions in his sleep, all she felt was a body pressing up against her slightly. So she did the only thing she needed to do.

She punched him. Hard.

She hit between his eye and nose. A loud “FUCK!” escaped him after the sound of skin hitting skin permeated through his bedroom. Her body seized up and, like countless times before, she jumped out of bed. When she turned around to look down at the bed, Matthew was clutching his eye in pain. It was then that she realized just that – it was Matthew. It wasn’t Abraham.

“M—M—Matthew,” she stuttered out.

“What the fuck, Effie?!” his temper got the best of him.

“M—Matthew—I—I thought—Abraham—I thought you were Abraham—”

With his one clear eye, he looked at her. His chest was heaving. But he didn’t say anything. His shoulders slumped slightly. And without saying anything, he got up out of the bed and walked out of the room.

Effie immediately dropped to her knees on the bed. It’s what she would have done before, to ask for forgiveness for denying her husband satisfaction whenever and wherever he wanted it. But now, in the new world, in her new world, it wasn’t like that. She didn’t have to repent for her sin. It didn’t have to be that way. Abraham wasn’t in bed with her. It was Matthew. Sweet, soft, rough around the edges Matthew.

She started crying. She couldn’t believe that she’d just done that to him. She cried so hard she didn’t even realize he’d come back into the room quietly, with a bag of peas pressed against his face where she’d punched him.

After she apologized, and he said nothing, she crawled over to him, the last of her tears spilling over her cheeks. She lay her hand on his back. “Matthew—”

He flinched at her touch. She recoiled her hand back so quickly she didn’t know she could move that fast. Her heart tightened in her chest, knowing she’d just caused him – and was continuing to cause him – such physical pain, when all he’d given her over the last few months was patience and support.

Matthew heard her sharp intake of breath when he flinched. He didn’t mean to flinch – really – he just didn’t expect her to touch him after she’d just punched his face for brushing up against her. He took a few deep breaths to control his emotions before he looked behind him, seeing her tear-stained face looking at him.

When he saw the lingering fear in her eyes, he couldn’t be angry.

***

Matthew played his hockey game, and he managed to score a goal and record an assist, but after the game, his mind was somewhere else. Effie hadn’t shown up to the game; she wasn’t waiting with Jenna and Geneviève, and Jenna told him she was tired from work which is why she stayed home. He needed to talk to her. Needed to talk to her. But he didn’t know how, and he didn’t know what to do.

Jacob, Geneviève, Levi, and Jenna all left early, leaving him to go home alone. He trudged down the hallway and took the elevator to the parking garage, his feet dragging on the concrete and he walked with his head down, a storm forming in his mind about what he was going to do.

“Matthew?” he heard a soft voice.

He shot his head up. For a second he thought he was hallucinating, or some sort of mirage, but no – Effie was in the parking garage, standing right next to his car. He had no idea how she got in but at this point he didn’t really care. All he cared about was that she was there. He rushed over to her as quickly as his legs would take him. “You’re here,” he said, once he got close to her. Her face was red and blotchy. He hated seeing it like that. It reminded him of the incident in the washroom. “What’s going on?”

“I spent the whole day crying thinking about what I did to you,” she said, her voice sounding like she was on the verge of tears again.

“Effie, I told you it was alri—”

“It’s not alright, Matthew,” she asserted. He’d said it all last night while she was profusely apologizing, but she didn’t believe him. He’d said it up until she was picked up by a taxi to be taken back to her place. He’d begged her to stay. She couldn’t see how she could when she’d just punched him in the face. “I wish you would stop saying that. I hit you. I gave you a black eye. Nothing about that is alright—”

“Effie—”

“I just—I thought you were Abraham because he’d do that a lot and—because I would always try to say no otherwise, and so he had to get me at a point where—”

“EFFIE,” he said loudly, over her frantic voice, and she stopped immediately. They stared at each other for a few moments in pure silence before Effie could feel Matthew’s hands grab hers. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she nestled her face into his chest and inhaled his scent. A wave of peace flowed throughout her body. He hadn’t asked to touch her, but at the same time, she hadn’t flinched. His touch was so…so pure and so soft – so unlike anything else she’d felt before – that there was no reason to flinch or be scared. His hands wouldn’t hurt her like other hands had. She realized this, inhaling his scent one more time. He wouldn’t hurt her.

When he released the hug, she brought her own hands up to cradle his face. His facial hair was a bit rough against her skin, but it was still the softest she’d ever felt on a man. Maybe it was because he always gave her butterflies. Maybe it was something else. “You’re so soft, Matthew…” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, his voice equally as low. “I’m not soft.”

“Yes, you are. You are for me,” she clarified. “You’re the softest man I’ve ever felt. I don’t want that to change.”

He realized what she meant now. It hit him like a ton of bricks, like most things did with Effie. “It won’t,” he asserted. “You can count on me.”

“I know I can,” she nodded her head.

Matthew couldn’t take it anymore. They couldn’t continue this in the parking garage. “Can I take you back to my place again and we can talk? Properly?”

Effie nodded her head.

***

Matthew let Effie roam in his kitchen while he changed out of his suit into some comfier clothes. When he emerged from his room, Effie was sitting on his couch – just like she had been last night – a glass of water in her hand, sipping from it delicately. He knew she’d end up back on his couch since she had commented last night how big and comfy it was. Matthew didn’t even know where it was from – it came with the apartment. But ever since she’d sat on it and made the comment, he found it comfier.

He walked over to her slowly, and she watched him, not saying a word. Instead of taking a seat beside her, he knelt in front of her, between her legs. He was still almost at eye level with her. Boldly, he took the glass of water out of her hand and set it down on the coffee table. He grabbed her hands in his and rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumb tenderly. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“What happened that night? After you punched Abraham?”

Effie was silent for a moment. “I…I—I got pregnant.”

The words stabbed Matthew in the heart. He squeezed her hands to let go of some pain, and she squeezed back. “I’m so sorry for what I did, Effie—”

“You have nothing to apologize about,” she said. “You did nothing wrong.”

“But I scared you. And I promised I’d never do that. And it brought up bad memories…”

Effie was shaking her head. “You didn’t scare me. My mind did. My mind thought you were Abraham. But you’re the farthest thing from him, Matthew, and you need to know that. You don’t scare me at all. Not even a bit. Not like Abraham scared me.”

Matthew bit his tongue so he could feel some pain and keep himself from crying. To think about how she was so scared for eighteen years of her life, and now she wasn’t, and part of that was because he was around, helping her feel comfortable…he couldn’t have asked for anything more. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty for what happened, especially since Effie was telling him what she was telling him, but he knew he would for a while. It’d take him a while to get over it. “When we went on the date…did you—I mean, did you just do it because you felt like you had to? Because you had to experience a first date to be normal or whatever? Or did you actually want to?” he asked.

“I actually wanted to,” she said without hesitation. Matthew could feel his heart beating in his chest. “I wanted to, and with you. Not with another guy and not with, like, Sean or whatever,” she said, and it made Matthew break out into a smirk. “It was you. And even though…I mean—I mean I think we could…and we would…” she tried to formulate her thought into coherent words.

“But I don’t know if we should,” he finished her sentence.

Effie nodded. “At least not yet. I’m not—I’m not mentally there yet. I’m not ready. And it wouldn’t be fair to bring you along so closely with something I know I’m not ready for. There’s so much I still need to learn…about, well…everything.”

Matthew nodded his head. He understood completely. “You know that I never expected anything, right?” he asked.

“Oh, of course not,” she said like it was the obscenest idea in the world. She knew Matthew would never expect that of her. “I think what’ll be good is you going home during the summer, and me starting my course in June…and by the time you come back in September, you might even see a brand new me.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile at that. He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs again. “You’re already a brand new person, Effie. When I come back you’ll just be wiser. Do you promise to message me on Instagram about everything you learn and the stuff you experience?”

Effie nodded her head, a smile adorning her face now. “Matthew?” she asked after a moment of silence.

This time, he looked up at her. He knew what was coming.

This time, she didn’t need to stand on her tip-toes. All she had to do was lean forward and kiss him.

313 notes · View notes