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spine-buster · 3 years

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Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

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. ̲𝖳̲𝗁̲𝗂̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖼̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗉̲𝗍̲𝖾̲𝗋̲ ̲𝗌̲𝗉̲𝖾̲𝖼̲𝗂̲𝖿̲𝗂̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗅̲𝗒̲ ̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗆̲𝖾̲𝗇̲𝗍̲𝗂̲𝗈̲𝗇̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝖽̲𝖾̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗐̲𝗂̲𝗍̲𝗁̲ ̲𝗍̲𝗋̲𝖺̲𝗎̲𝗆̲𝖺̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝗂̲𝗇̲𝗀̲ ̲𝖿̲𝗋̲𝗈̲𝗆̲ ̲𝗆̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝖺̲𝗀̲𝖾̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝗌̲𝖾̲𝗑̲𝗎̲𝖺̲𝗅̲ ̲𝖺̲𝖻̲𝗎̲𝗌̲𝖾̲.̲ Please be warned.

Word Count: 15,503

A/N: I have been loving your feedback on this story so far. Your canon question about Matthew and Effie are great and I would love to hear and answer more. It means the world to me that a plot this...unconventional, let’s say, is really taking hold and generating interest. I know that there’s some really, really serious stuff dealt with in the chapters, so I appreciate everyone’s feedback and maturity about it. As always, please check the content warning for this chapter. Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys the update!

* * * * *

She wrote every message on Instagram like an email, and Matthew couldn’t get enough of it.

Hello Matthew,

Today was interesting. I started classes for my business certificate today. I sat in a room with about 50 other people and I listened to my professor speak about the course prospectus and what we would be learning and doing. I didn’t meet any new people or make any new friends but that’s okay. I want to focus on my studies. I already have homework.

How has St. Louis been? I bet you are excited to be back home. I hope you are relaxing and staying safe.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I know you are going to ace that program, Effie. You’re very talented and smart and it’ll be no time until you find yourself with a certificate and able to explore more job opportunities.

St. Louis is good. Brady and Taryn are home too so it’s good to be surrounded by family. I know it’s not the same for you but one day I think you will find a group of friends that will make up your family. Most days I go golfing with my dad. I usually relax by our pool too, or play basketball or some other sport with Brady. I go to the gym too, to keep up on my fitness for next season.

Hello Matthew,

Class was good today. We started the beginning lectures. The professor went quickly but I was able to keep up. I’m definitely learning how to type fast on my laptop!

You said in your message that I’m very talented but I don’t think I’m talented. I’m maybe talented at some things like baking, but I don’t think I’m talented in much else. Talents are developed over time and I was never given the opportunity to develop anything because I was expected to be a good wife, tend to children, and read the Bible. Sometimes I think about if I could have been a piano player or a singer or something creative. Maybe I could have been a writer like Geneviève if I was given the opportunity young, but I wasn’t. But that’s okay. I am trying to make my peace with it. I will develop what I have now and try to use it for good.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Nobody bakes like you, Effie. Please don’t think you are not talented, because you are. I know you weren’t able to develop anything like you said, but you can still find your talents now. You’re still young! You’re only entering your 20s in a few weeks. You can do whatever you set your mind to.

Hi Matthew,

Levi and Jenna took me to the mall again today. We bought some new clothes that fit me better and aren’t so baggy. They look really nice. I even bought a dress that falls right at my knee. Can you believe it?! I never thought I’d wear something like that. I never thought anybody else would be able to see my legs! It’s a very weird feeling but it’s a very pretty dress. Jenna said I should wear it for my birthday and I think I’m going to do it. Do you want to see it? I can send you a picture of it if you want.

I checked the weather in St. Louis and saw there was a big thunderstorm. I hope you weren’t caught it in or anything. I can’t imagine your curly hair getting wet in the rain and what it would look like.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

What are you trying to say about my hair??????????

I would love to see your dress. I bet it looks great on you. And you will need to send me pictures of you wearing it on your birthday.

They happened daily. Usually sometime after dinner, when Matthew knew Effie had just finished eating and was either winding down for the night or preparing to do homework. Every day, he waited for the message. And every day, he’d grab his phone the second he heard the notification, not bothering to wait, and read the message eagerly.

***

Matthew found himself at a raucous house party, one that could have been characteristic of any stereotypical college experience or American movie trying to depict a traditional American life. It felt like it was straight out of the American Pie movies. A friend of his was hosting, and there was everything – beer kegs, jungle juice, trashed guys jumping into the pool, music blasting so loud Matthew almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts, girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys at the party not paying attention to them.

Hot girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys – he and Brady – not paying attention to them.

Brady was taken and accounted for – Emma was great and Matthew loved her, even though he saw her only sparingly – and so most of the attention tonight was placed on Matthew. He was the shiny new toy every time he came back to St. Louis in the summers – well, shiny always, but new not so much. Nothing was new about him being in St. Louis in the summer, but everybody always treated is as such a big deal because he spent most of the year in Calgary. That’s why attention was always on him, especially at parties like this. That’s why everybody wanted to talk to him. That’s why all the girls wanted to talk to him. Matthew didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to enjoy his night with his buddies, drinking beer and chatting them all up.

That was…until Leah made an appearance.

Leah, a girl. Leah, a girl he would hook up with in the summers…occasionally. Sporadically. Like, once a summer when he was back. Maybe twice. She’d always show up everywhere and smile and be nice. And when Matthew was tipsy, or just a little bit drunk, he’d think ‘What the hell’ and let the night take him where it wanted to take him.

Just like now.

“Hey Matty,” she cooed, smiling as she always did and biting the bottom of her lip. She went in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He could swear she spilled some of her jungle juice on his neck.

“Hey Leah,” he said, his lips in a tight smile as she pulled away. She was wearing a frilly crocheted top and cut-off denim shorts. She looked hot. Any guy at the party would have wanted to hook up with her. “How are you?”

“Better now that I see you,” her flirting was automatic. “How long have you been back for?”

“A few weeks,” Matthew shrugged his shoulders.

“And no call or text? Ouch, Matty.”

“You always show up places,” he found himself saying, feeling his lips curve into a smirk. “Didn’t think I needed to call.”

“Well then maybe I should have sent you a text.”

The party went on. Matthew hung out with his buddies and talked up a storm. Everybody got a kick out of his hockey stories and were practically begging for more. He’d catch Leah staring at him from a few friend groups away where she stayed with her girlfriends, or from across the backyard or something, and she’d always bite her lip and flutter her eyelashes. The beers kept pouring down his throat and he noticed her get closer and closer until she wiggled her way in with her friends. It probably took a while, but in Matthew’s mind, it felt like it was only a minute until she was right in front of him, red solo cup in her hand.

“Have you tried the jungle juice?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve been drinking beer all night.”

“Come get some inside with me,” she said, already grabbing his hand. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. She pulled him as he staggered behind her, almost tripping on the steps of the patio and while walking through the screen door. When they finally got to the kitchen, Leah looked over her shoulder and winked before tugging Matthew nearer to her body. She spun around in front of the jungle juice to pour some more into her cup. When she did, Matthew could feel her ass up against his groin. He felt like he was going to pass out from the beer.

“Did you miss me, Matty?” she asked as she looked at him over her shoulder again.

“I miss everyone in St. Louis,” he replied.

Leah apparently didn’t like that response, because she grinded her ass up against his groin even harder now. “Don’t say that,” she cooed. “I know you miss me. It’s not like there’s anybody in Calgary like me.”

Matthew hummed. She was right. There wasn’t anybody like her in Calgary.

Effie was nothing like her.

Matthew’s stomach twisted as images of Effie flooded his mind. The first one that came was the day he had picked her up at the hairdresser’s when she’d chopped off all her hair. She looked so cute, and he remembered how bashful he was. Then came the image of her sitting on another couch watching Little Women intently, at least fifteen bags of candy spread out on the coffee table of Levi’s basement. She was so into watching the movie, and he was so into watching her. Then came the image of her face, sweet and innocent and beautiful – the last face he saw in Calgary before heading to the airport and boarding a plane to St. Louis. “No,” he mumbled out, half-drunk and heart aching.

“No,” Leah repeated with a smile on her face, turning around finally to face him before trailing her finger down his chest and letting in linger on the hem of his jeans. “There’s nobody in Calgary like me.”

He furrowed his brows. He wanted out, but his feet felt like cement. They always were when he was on the edge of being drunk. He gulped. “Where’s Brady?”

“Come with me, Matty,” she tugged at his jeans before grabbing his hands again and dragging him through the house. She kept looking over her shoulder to smile at him and he kept looking back towards the backyard. “I know what you need.”

She led him down a hallway, and at the end of that hallway was the bathroom. She turned on the light and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them and locking it. She looked at him suggestively when the click filled the air. “Le—”

“Shhh…” she pressed her finger against his lips to shut him up, replacing them quickly with her lips as she began to kiss him.

Matthew closed his eyes.

These weren’t Effie’s lips.

She was kissing his neck now, and had backed him into the sink so he could lean against it. Her hands wandered down to the button and zipper of his jeans. Suddenly, she dipped down and was on her knees in front of him. “Want me to suck you off, Matty?”

“N—No,” he stuttered out, looking down at her. Matthew felt the zipper being pushed down and her hand on his groin.

“You can come down my throat,” she offered.

He closed his eyes tightly, and in the darkness, he saw only one person: Effie.

The only thing that brought him back – because he could have stayed alone in the bathroom with his eyes closed and the image of Effie in his mind for the rest of the God damn party if he really wanted to – was the sound of his zipper being pushed down dramatically. He opened his eyes. “Would you stop?!” he demanded, wiggling out of where he’d been backed into the sink. He grabbed the front of his pants and zipped them up again.

Leah, still on her knees, spun around and glared at him. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she got up slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You have someone in Calgary?” she demanded.

Matthew refused to answer as he did up his button.

“Who the fuck is she?” she demanded again.

“There’s nobody.”

“Fucking hell there’s nobody. What’s her name?”

“Don’t go there, Leah. As if I’d tell you.”

“You’re fucking someone in Calgary? Since when?”

“As if I’d tell you,” he repeated.

She gave him one last glare because unlocking the door. “Fuck you Matthew Tkachuk. You’ll fucking miss me.”

“Doubt it.”

***

Hi Matthew,

I went to a Starbucks today to work on some school work and people watch. When you get back to Calgary, we will need to find a new Starbucks because the one near Levi’s house is too far away now. Anyway, I was working on an assignment and watching people interact and go about their daily lives. It was eye-opening and a bit weird to me. A lot of people were on their phones! It makes me wonder if I should be on it more…? A lot of the girls who walked in were really fashionable and it makes me want to go shopping again. I don’t think I’ll ever look as good as Geneviève or Annica but I could definitely try, and they could help me. I learn a lot by people watching. Does that make me weird?

I had a Zoom call with Geneviève and Jacob in Sweden. She is doing well and helped me with my assignment a little bit. I’ve been baking shortbread recently, and I’m going to make butter tarts tomorrow. I miss you being my taste-tester, but I bet you are happy to have home cooking. Sometimes I wonder if my siblings miss my cooking but I doubt they do.

Did you think I was weird when I said I didn’t miss my family at all?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I do not think you are weird at all for not missing your family. They were abusive. You have no reason to miss them.

People are addicted to their phones these days, which is why you’re so refreshing. You’re not a slave to it…at least yet lol. I hurt my eyes sometimes from staring at my screen too long.

I can’t wait to eat ALL of your baking when I get back. It’s the best, Effie. It really is.

I miss you a lot.

Hi Matthew,

I miss you too.

Thank you for not thinking I’m weird for not missing my family.

I’ve been watching a lot of movies and listening to a lot of music. I’ve been researching what’s been popular since I was born and I’m trying to, like, catch up I guess. Some of the movies I don’t like or don’t get. Some of them are really funny, and I watched them because I know people quote them all the time. Like this movie called Bridesmaids. I want to be able to get references people make even though I wasn’t in the moment of them. There are some movies I’ve read about online that seem amazing, but I don’t want to watch them alone. They are:

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind Moonlight There Will Be Blood Shoplifters Brokeback Mountain The Master Unorthodox

When you come back to Calgary, would you watch them all with me?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Of course I’ll watch them all with you.

***

Effie Schaffer woke up the morning of her 20th birthday, on July 7, 2021, to her phone ringing. Birthdays were not a thing in the People’s Dominion of Christ. They were not celebrated. Effie always knew when hers was, but as a kid she never had a birthday party, and when she was forced to marry the prophet, she hated her birthday. Hated it. She always wished that the prophet would forget about it but he never did. It was the one day of the year she spent the most time praying, and when she was not praying, she was with the prophet on his demand. Several weeks later, usually, after a lot of blood loss and visit from the cult’s midwife (though she wasn’t properly medically trained), Abraham would tell Effie that everything was her fault, that God was testing him when He spoke to Abraham and told him to take Effie as his wife. “July 7. 7/7. One number above the Devil,” he’d tell her. “That’s what you are. Just above the devil. Your blood and your loss are the signs of having the devil in you. That’s why you refuse to carry my Son of God.”

She wasn’t expecting anybody to call besides Levi and Jenna, but they said they would be picking her up at noon anyway. After she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up in bed a little bit, she was pleasantly surprised, albeit a little shocked, to see Matthew’s name flash across the screen. The giant FaceTime text was at the bottom of screen. Effie swiped to answer. After a bit of lagging, Matthew’s smiling face appeared. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” he screamed, loudly, causing her to jump slightly.

“Thank you, Matthew,” she said, her heartbeat going back to normal.

“How does it feel to officially be in your twenties?” he asked.

Effie could barely think, so she shrugged. “When I wake up and my brain starts working, I’ll tell you.”

Matthew furrowed his brows. It was only then that he noticed half of her hair in a scrunchie and the pillows behind her head. “Oh shit, I fucked up time zones, didn’t I?” he asked worriedly. “What time is it there?”

Effie looked at her watch. “It’s 7:30 in the morning.”

“I woke you up! Jesus Effie, I’m so sorry,” he began to apologize. “I’m such an idiot—”

“It’s okay, Matthew,” she said, smiling at how his own smile had faded from his face when he realized he had woken her up early. 7:30 in the morning would have been a godsend two years ago, when she usually woke up at 5:30. “It’s nice to be woken up by your voice on my birthday, actually. Someone is at least treating it like a birthday.”

“Levi’s gonna treat you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Levi wouldn’t.

“I know,” she said. “I mean, like…before. Birthdays weren’t exactly a celebration.”

“You never used to celebrate your birthday?” he asked, thinking back to all the amazing birthdays his parents had thrown he and his siblings over the years. Because his was so close to Christmas, it was extra special. His parents always made sure Christmas didn’t overshadow it too much. Same with Taryn being born on Halloween. Brady’s parties were always good too because they were right after the start of school, so usually the entire class would be invited.

“No,” Effie shook her head. Matthew was sort of waiting for her to elaborate, but it seemed like she didn’t want to. He left it at that. “Levi’s taking me to that steakhouse we went to for Noah’s birthday,” she informed him. “I think I’m gonna have another tomahawk.”

Matthew smiled again. “Please do, in honour of me.”

“Maybe I’ll take a picture of it to show you what you’re missing.”

“Believe me, I know what I’m missing,” he said. He bit his lip, wondering for a quick second if he should tell her about the gifts coming her way. He quickly decided against it, thinking it would be better left as a surprise. “I’m sorry I can’t be there, Effie.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Matthew,” she told him, meaning it sincerely. “It’s an amazing thing that you’re so close to them. I…believe me, I know how important that is…to be able to have people who love you unconditionally, to be able to have people who love you and want to see you and always have your best interests at heart. I would never want to take that away from you. And besides, when we watch all those movies together…you’ll be there. We’ll be reunited.”

He licked his lips, nodding quickly. “You bet.”

***

Matthew had been lying around the house all day after playing a round of golf with his dad that morning. He’d tanned by the pool with Taryn and ate straight from the bag of Veggie Straws, but he was pretty glued to his phone because he wanted to see the delivery updates for the gifts he’d gotten Effie for her birthday.

The first gift was a giant bouquet of flowers. Peonies, mostly, of course, because of her tattoo, set in a beautiful vase. He’d gotten the delivery notification, then about five minutes later he’d received a picture of it from Effie over Instagram saying thank you. Fifteen minutes later, she uploaded a photo of it to her Instagram feed and tagged him. ‘Beautiful bouquet of peonies from my friend Matthew! I am twenty years old today.’ was her caption. That was the first gift.

The second was a delivery of some cookies from an amazing bakery in Calgary that Annica and Geneviève always ordered from. The cookies were divine, but realistically, they weren’t better than Effie’s cookies. But Effie making cookies for her own birthday wasn’t exactly a gift, so he knew he’d have to order her a batch. Again, he’d gotten the notification that the cookies had been delivered, and ten minutes later, Effie had sent a selfie of her with one of the chocolate chip cookies. ‘Yum!’ she’d texted with the photo. Another notification on Instagram told him Effie had uploaded another photo and tagged him in it. ‘My friend Matthew gave me cookies too! How sweet! Cookies are some of my favourite treats.’ He absolutely loved her feed and the way she used Instagram. If he had to delete everyone else and just follow her, he’d do it.

The last gift was the trickiest. He didn’t know how she’d react. But she didn’t have one of her own – she’d been borrowing Jenna’s – and she needed one, quite literally, for her job. He wondered if she’d like the colour. And the make. And all the attachments.

A ‘MATTHEW, YOU DIDN’T’ text suddenly came through on his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. It was the first time it didn’t sound like an email.

Do u like it? he texted back.

I LOVE IT IN THE PISTACHIO TOO MY FAVOURITE COLOUR AND THE SIFTER ATTACHMENT AND THE ICE CREAM MAKER ATTACHMENT MATTHEW!

Im happy u like it! Now u can bake all you want and not have to borrow Jenna’s

“Taryn, mom needs you inside to help with something,” Brady’s voice boomed through the silence of the backyard. Matthew heard the screen door burst open, and watched conspicuously through his sunglasses as Brady more or less barged towards them.

“Can she wait?” Taryn didn’t make any effort to move.

“Now Taryn. She seems pretty adamant,” Brady didn’t give up, his tone serious as he continued to walk towards them.

Taryn grumbled and got up from her seat. Matthew locked his phone and pretended not to care, even when Brady took Taryn’s place in her lawn chair right beside him and didn’t bother lying down. Instead, he sat facing Matthew, elbows on his knees and hands joined together, like he was a cop about to interrogate his brother. “Who’s in Calgary?”

Matthew looked over at him. “Huh?”

“Who’s in Calgary?” Brady asked again.

Matthew was confused. “G…Gio?” he asked.

“Who’s in Calgary that made you not hook up with Leah at the party?”

Matthew’s heart dropped in the pit of his stomach. For fuck sakes. He sighed deeply and took off his sunglasses, trying to make it seem like everything was being blown out of proportion when, really, Matthew just didn’t want people knowing. But he told Brady everything – everything. He was sort of impressed that the secret had lasted this long, if he was being honest. “Brady…” he began, his voice low.

Brady took off his sunglasses too. “There’s a girl.”

“Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated? What’s her name?”

Matthew thought about not telling him, but there was no point. Brady would find out eventually, and Matthew would rather Brady learn the news from him than from the rumour mill or from Leah stalking his social media. “It’s…Effie.”

“Effie?”

“Who’s Effie?” Taryn voice boomed. The boys whipped their head to see her standing at their family room’s sliding doors, hiding behind the screen door.

“Taryn!” both brothers yelled at their sister.

“Effie? Who’s Effie?” Chantal called out from the kitchen.

“What’s an Effie?” Keith asked from beside Chantal.

“Oh my GOD this is a disaster!” Matthew screamed out in frustration. “Get out of here, Taryn!”

“Who’s Effie?” Brady demanded once more.

Matthew put his heads in his hands dramatically before giving up. There was no way he was going to get out of this. Now his whole family would know. It would be a game of telephone, and by the end of his and Brady’s conversation, Keith would hear Matthew married a girl named Jessie who’d grown up in a hut. “You remember me talking about one of our physio guys? Levi Schaffer?” Matthew asked. Brady nodded. “His younger sister.”

Brady furrowed his brows. “Isn’t Levi in his thirties? You’re dating an older woman, Matthew?”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “No, you dolt. She’s fifteen years younger than he is.”

“SHE’S FIFTEEN?!”

“WHAT?!” Taryn screamed from the screen door again.

“AAAAAAARGHHHH!” Matthew screamed in absolute frustration. “You are literally the dumbest person alive, you know that right?!” he screamed at Brady.

“Matthew! Apologize to your brother!” Chantal called from the house, opening the screen door and stepping through into the backyard with Keith.

“But mom! He’s an idiot!”

“Matthew,” Keith’s voice bellowed. “Now.”

“Sorry,” Matthew grumbled. His parents always made the siblings do this stuff, ever since they were kids. “Can we just drop it all?” he asked.

“Nope. We’re all here now,” Brady said. “Who’s Effie?”

Matthew sighed heavily. “She’s a girl I met through my friend Levi at work.”

“What’s the big deal? Are you dating her?” Keith asked.

“No,” Matthew answered immediately, shaking his head. “No. We’re not dating. Not at all. She…” he began, trying to find the right words.

“She…” Brady egged on.

“She’s a bit…” Matthew began again. How was he going to tell them? How was he gonna word it? Should he sugar coat it or just come out and say it? “She’s a bit…different. She…she and Levi grew up in one of those, like, religious cults, out in rural Alberta. But a year and a half ago, she escaped, and she’s been trying to adjust to the real world ever since. I met her in January, at Noah’s birthday. And ever since, I’ve just been, like…helping her experience the normal world.”

The entire Tkachuk family was silent as they processed the information. They were definitely expecting a much different explanation from Matthew, that was for sure. “A religious cult, Matthew?” Chantal was the first to speak. Matthew nodded his head. Chantal grew serious. “Was she abused?”

Matthew hesitated, but he eventually nodded his head. It wasn’t his business to tell – he knew that – but he couldn’t lie to his own mother. “She could only wear dresses. She had to read the Bible all day. She was married at fourteen to the leader of the cult who was 55. That sort of thing,” he explained briefly, not wanting to give any more details.

Chantal looked concerned. Keith looked at his wife before looking back at his son. “So you’re not dating her, but you’re helping her learn about the real world,” Keith clarified. Matthew nodded again. Keith looked at Brady. “Then that’s none of our business! What’s the big deal?” he huffed.

“It’s not—”

“Why’re you busting his balls then?”

“Keith!” Chantal chastised.

***

Hi Matthew,

I still can’t believe you got me the stand mixer. I love it so much. It’s the only thing that I have out on my countertop because there’s no reason to hide it. And the pistachio colour is sooooooo beautiful. I promise that as a token of appreciation, I’m going to bake you whatever sweets you want when you get back to Calgary. Seriously. Anything you want. Even if I haven’t made it before. And I’ll make ice cream too!

I have been taking some walks around Calgary in my spare time. It’s a really beautiful city. Sometimes I will do my walks at night and see all the young people out at restaurants and bars and all the light are lit up downtown, and it’s even more beautiful. It’s so nice to see life in people. Everybody in the cult was so miserable. Maybe I’m just saying that because I was so miserable, but that’s how I remember it. Nobody was happy about life. Well, they weren’t happy about life like the people in downtown Calgary are on a Friday or Saturday night. ��

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Calgary is definitely a beautiful city, and I’m happy that you’re starting to see that. Wait until you see even more of the country and the world one day! All of those young people that you see out and about are your age. I know you are probably very nervous to make new friends, but if you ever want to go out to one of those places, I’m sure Levi or Jenna would take you. When the team gets back into the city, I know any of the guys would take you too, just like when we went out for Andrew’s birthday. You just let us know when. And I apologize in advance for Noah’s behaviour.

I’m going to put in a request for snickerdoodles. My mom used to make them a lot growing up, but she doesn’t make them as much now because then I’d eat them all and get too pudgy.

Hi Matthew,

Snickerdoodles it is. I will perfect the recipe before you come back.

On top of movies, I’ve also been listening to music. Levi lets me use his Spotify. He also told me what an iPod is…was. Have you heard of Adele? She’s amazing! I love her voice. Most of the time I just let Spotify recommend me things and I end up liking them, but Levi introduced me to some bands too. Have you heard of Bruce Springsteen? Taylor Swift? The Tragically Hip? Red Hot Chili Peppers? They’re all so good. Red Hot Chili Peppers is Levi’s favourite band. I also really like listening to Coldplay. I think they’re my favourite out of all of them. But I also like dancing songs, like the songs that have a good beat. I wasn’t allowed to dance before (it was too sensual and would tempt the men) so now I feel like I should let it all out.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Dance your heart out Effie. Fuck them.

Fuck them.

***

Matthew was antsy. Antsy. The second the plane landed in Calgary, his leg was bobbing up and down to get off the plane, grab his bags, and go straight to Effie’s apartment.

It was the first time since he had lived in Calgary that he wanted to go anywhere but his apartment after a flight back to the city. But Effie had that effect on him these days. He hadn’t seen her in three months – almost four. And he was dying to. FaceTimes and Instagram-messages-formatted-as-emails could only do so much, and satisfy so much in his mind. He needed to see her, physically see her. He didn’t know what had happened to him in the past few months, especially since he and Effie had left on such a good note. No need to rush things. Take the time. But this entire summer, all Matthew could think about was her. All he dreamt about was her. He wondered if it was the same for her too. And he wondered, if it was, if she would admit it.

Once he got his bags from baggage claim, he hightailed it out of the airport and got into a taxi. He gave the driver Effie’s address, and within half an hour, he found himself with his suitcases at the foot of her apartment.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t think this through.

He hauled both of his suitcases up the staircase, most definitely putting chips in the wood steps along the way. It reminded him of moving her in to the place months ago, with him yelling at Sean for half of the day but ending with a slice of pie and his first kiss from Effie. He didn’t know what to expect now, but he knew that whatever he’d get, he’d be happy with. He knocked on her door and waited.

When Effie opened it, she looked confused because she wasn’t expecting anybody. But the second she saw Matthew’s face, her face lit up like a night show of fireworks. “Matthew!” she squealed, jumping on him and wrapping her arms tightly around his broad shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “What are you doing here?! You weren’t supposed to be back in Calgary for a few days!” the shock was still evident in her voice.

“Just thought I’d take an earlier flight out,” he said casually. “Gonna need to customize to the time change anyway.”

As if an hour was going to be a big shock to his system.

When Effie pulled away, she still kept her hands on his shoulders and he kept his hands at her waist. She’d gained more weight throughout the summer, thankfully, and filled out more. The pair of jeans she was wearing actually fit. The top she was wearing actually fit too – a simple navy-striped long sleeve. He was happy to see that. She’d been so frail when he met her in January. She looked like she had life in her now. “Have you even gone home?” she asked, looking down at his suitcases behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Uh…no,” he said awkwardly. “Can I bring them in? I just wanted to see you.”

Effie couldn’t help but gulp at his words. “I just wanted to see you.” Nobody had ever said those words to her before – not even her own mother, she thought. Nobody was ever happy to see her in the cult. But in the real world, Matthew was. “Yeah, come in,” she said, moving to remove her hands from his shoulders to give him more space to haul his suitcases into her entrance. He closed the door behind him when he was done, and that’s when the reality snapped back into Effie’s mind. “Oh no!” she exclaimed worriedly.

Matthew automatically got worried too. “Oh no what?”

“You came home early and I—I didn’t make your snickerdoodles!”

A smile automatically appeared on his face. “Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly, slipping off his shoes. “It’s not like I told you I was coming back to Calgary.”

The worried look didn’t leave her face. “Are you sure? I—I didn’t mean to forget. I actually made one batch but I thought they could be better for you so I was going to make another and—”

“Effie,” he said sternly, placing a hand over hers, which had bunched together nervously. “It’s alright. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asked one more time.

“I’m positive,” he squeezed her hands gently. “Just gives me another excuse to come over again in a few days, really.”

A small smile crept on Effie’s face as she realized Matthew wasn’t angry. Usually, when something like this happened, the outcome was much different. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore. “Well come in then, come in,” she said, moving further into her apartment so Matthew could follow her. “D’you want something to drink?” she asked, already opening up her fridge.

“Tell me what you’ve been learning in school,” Matthew said instead, leaning against it. “I want to hear everything I missed.”

Effie couldn’t stop talking after that. They had managed to migrate to her couch and she told him about her courses and teachers and homework and assignments and textbooks and her new computer and the classroom and the building and the campus and the Starbucks on campus and the cafeteria she’d eat in and the vending machine she’d buy snacks from and the bench she’d sit on waiting for class and everything. Everything. There was nothing she didn’t talk about. And he listened to it all, listened to all of it intently, not interrupting once, asking follow-up questions and asking her for more more more more more. He couldn’t get enough. He forgot about his water. He forgot about the homemade Rice Krispie she gave him on a plate on her coffee table. He forgot that he was going to suggest they go out to a Starbucks. He forgot that he hadn’t seen her in months and was so desperate to see her that he came here before he even went to his own apartment. All he could think about was here, and all he could pay attention to was what she was saying.

He wanted it like this all the time.

“How’s therapy going?” he asked, finally remembering his water and taking a quick sip from his glass.

“I’m seeing a sex therapist now too.”

That was a bombshell. Matthew tried not to make it show that he was shocked at the news, but she’d said it so casually – like everyone saw a sex therapist. And, like, a therapist was one thing, but a sex therapist was another. He understood why she’d need one, but it was still a shock to him. “Oh yeah?” he tried to say casually.

Effie nodded her head. “I told Dr. Barlow how we’d been kissing,” she said, biting her lip and blushing slightly. “And, um…well, I told her some other things, so she suggested I see the sex therapist to help fix them.”

Fix them? Matthew had no idea what she meant. He moved slightly closer to her on the couch as he furrowed his brows. “What else did you tell her?” he asked softly. Effie averted his gaze, looking away as if she were embarrassed. “Effie, come on, you can tell me,” he urged.

“Well…when we—do you promise not to freak out at me?”

His heart ached. “Of course.”

“When we started kissing—well, when I started kissing you…I liked it a lot,” she said.

“We were kissing each other,” he said, correcting her, because he knew language was important and the way things were phrased was important and he wanted her to know he was 100% in on it too. He wasn’t exactly innocent. He was a willing accomplice. “I was kissing you too. I liked it a lot too.”

Effie nodded her head. “Well…I liked it a lot. But then we had that talk and you left for St. Louis and we were in a good place. Dr. Barlow told me that was very mature of me, and that she was very impressed. But then…”

“But then…”

Effie kept averting his gaze. “Um…but then, well, you weren’t here, and I started to have dreams of us kissing. I’d lean into you and close my eyes and kiss you. And your lips were soft like I remembered. But then it would change. Quickly. And it would hurt. It—it would hurt. And I’d open my eyes and instead of you, it was…Abraham. And I’d get so scared. I’d wake up screaming.”

Matthew’s heart fell in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick. “I made you feel that way?”

“No! No you didn’t,” she shook her head vehemently. “It was only when you left. When you’re—Matthew, no,” her words were jumbled because she had started crying. “When we kissed, I liked it. I liked it so much. But my mind was playing tricks on me.”

“Effie, if I hurt you—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t hurt me at all,” she pressed, her hand extending automatically to grab at his forearm comfortingly. “You could never hurt me Matthew. Ever. I just…” her voice had gotten softer, frailer, more like it had been in January. “I still see him sometimes.”

If Matthew’s heart had fallen into the pit of his stomach before, then now it had just shattered into a billion pieces. “Oh, Effie…” he barely got out.

“I don’t want to see him ever again,” she said.

“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling her body towards his so he could hug her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and could feel Effie melt into him, her head cradled on his chest. He wanted her to feel as safe as possible with him – he’d wanted that since the beginning. With this new revelation, he now wanted it more than ever. “You’ll never see him again, Effie. I promise you.”

“I know I won’t. I know. This is happening because of what happened to me.”

“When he would hurt you.”

Effie looked up at him, nodding, almost embarrassingly. “I know that he can’t hurt me anymore. But my dreams would take me back to when he did. It wasn’t you, Matthew. You didn’t make me feel that way. I told Dr. Barlow and Dr. Stevenson that. They’re just trying to help me not see him anymore, and move past the things that he did to me. And they’re…they’re trying not to make me feel guilty about something so simple like kissing.”

“You felt guilty about us kissing?” he asked.

“Women couldn’t date, right? So it wasn’t like I was kissing any of the other boys in the cult. We were harlots and sinners if we kissed men, and we were responsible for them straying away from God. My first kiss was on my fake wedding day.”

Matthew could kill them all. He had half the heart to jump into his car and drive to Sheerness so that he could. “I will give you as many kisses as you want if it helps you forget,” he blurted out.

Effie couldn’t help but smile. “Can we start again now? Slowly?”

Matthew smiled slightly. She craned her head up and placed one of her signature chaste kisses on his lips, and he reciprocated readily, the feeling of her lips on his after months of not having them there ranking up there with the best feeling in the world. When she pulled away, her eyes were still closed, but there was a smile on her face. Her prior tears had stained her cheeks. “Hugging you feels nice too,” Effie said, finally opening her eyes.

Matthew smiled. “Well then we’ll start doing a lot of that too.”

***

At the beginning of every hockey season, right before training camp, the Calgary Flames hosted a gala to benefit the Calgary Flames Foundation. The team would set a fundraising goal for the night – often surpassed – and then set one for the season – also surpassed – to give back to the city and community that supported them endlessly, through thick and thin. The gala was unofficially the kickoff to the season. Every member of the team, coaching staff, and head office attended. It was one of Calgary’s biggest events. It was the one night of the year Matthew didn’t mind being out and having to small-talk with hundreds of strangers, because he knew it was all for a good cause and a greater good.

Matthew was forced to wear a tuxedo. All the members of the team were forced to wear tuxedos. He kept fiddling with his bowtie and Mark kept slapping his hand away. Matthew thought they all looked like penguins. He searched around the gala room, already filling up with people. He took his phone out of his pocket.

You guys here yet? he texted Geneviève, knowing that since Elias and Jacob were already here, she and Annica were coming together.

We’re in a taxi. Eyeliner needed to be reapplied because Effie kept crying.

Matthew chuckled to himself, picturing the image of Effie sitting in a chair while Annica and Geneviève fussed over her makeup. Before he could text her back, another text from her came through.

She looks beautiful, by the way.

Matthew was impatient. He kept looking towards the doors even though he was supposed to be pretending to be interested in what these rich people had to say. Levi and Jenna were already there, too, so it really was just him waiting for Effie to arrive. This entire night didn’t start until Effie arrived.

Matthew was in a conversation with someone when he saw her walk through the doors. Annica was wearing a navy blue bodycon dress that showed off her curves, and she looked great. Geneviève was wearing an emerald green midi-length dress with a high slit, high collar, back cut-out, and cap sleeves, and she looked impeccably chic and stylish, like only Geneviève could.

But it was Effie, of course, who looked the best. A bright red dress that fell to her knees, with floral lace and sequins and cape sleeves that covered her otherwise bare arms. She wore a pair of low nude heels, and her blonde bob was styled professionally as a barely-there curl. She looked impeccable. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Divine. Exquisite.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly to the man and wife he was talking to, and left Elias alone with them as he made his way through the crowd and towards Effie, Annica, and Geneviève. He pushed past some people gently before finally appearing in front of them. He could see Geneviève smirking the second they saw him, but he locked eyes with Effie. When she saw him in his tux, her breath hitched in her throat. He looked good. “Hi,” he said to Effie breathlessly.

Annica saw the look in his eyes and knew she had to skedaddle out of there. “Where’s Elias?”

“Over there,” Matthew pointed behind him, somewhere in the crowd of four hundred people, as if that answered the question and helped her.

“Thanks,” she left, winking at him as she passed him.

Geneviève was next. “I guess my husband is in the same place?” she asked him.

“Mhm,” he nodded his head quickly.

“Great. You two behave. If I don’t see you, I’ll assume you’re in a broom closet,” she said before disappearing into the crowd of people.

Matthew and Effie hadn’t taken their eyes off each other. Effie thought he looked great in his tux; it was tailored to perfection, and really showed off how thick his body was, but in a good way. She’d felt it when they hugged when he showed up to her place after landing in Calgary, and if she was being honest with herself, she had been thinking about it ever since. She kept thinking about being physical with him, about touching him and hugging and cuddling and doing all the things she couldn’t have done with another man before. And she only wanted to do them with Matthew. Her mind – and now increasingly her body – wanted to do that only with Matthew. With the dress and the makeup and the whole look all together, Matthew was a man possessed. With Geneviève and Annica gone, Matthew couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to suppress himself from smiling bashfully, like he usually did with Effie. “You look beautiful, Effie,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “This is the second dress I’ve ever worn that has shown off my legs. It’s Geneviève’s. And – if you can believe it – this is the first time I’ve word something red.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. From her hair to her makeup to her dress to her shoes, he just couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He looked around the room quickly before grabbing her hand. “Come with me,” he mumbled.

“Where are we going?”

He dragged her out of the room and into the foyer. There were more people out there, sipping on cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres and getting checked in, so he kept walking with her behind him down the long foyer that connected all the different hall rooms in the complex together. When it got quieter, and the rush of people were too far away, he led her into a short corridor where a men’s and women’s washroom was. They were far enough away that he knew no-one from the gala would find them.

“Matthew? Is everything okay?” she asked as she watched him close the door behind them.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, his voice strained. “I just…God, Effie, you look so fucking beautiful.”

Effie could pick up on the strain in his voice. She could also see the fire in his eyes as he looked down at her. She didn’t know much about the world, and she knew even less about men, but those things alone were telling her something. Her body was telling her something too, something she’d never heard from it before. Instead of being repulsed by the body in front of her, she was drawn to it. Instead of being scared to touch it, she wanted to feel it all over her. Instead of allowing her mind to take her somewhere else so she didn’t have to focus on pain on hurt or anything else, she wanted to be in the moment and feel everything. “Kiss me, Matthew,” she said. She’d never been so bold in her entire life. She didn’t think she had it in her.

Matthew didn’t need to be told twice. He held her face between his hands, dipped his head, and began kissing her passionately. Effie loved it. It wasn’t a chaste kiss like the kisses they had shared in the past. This kiss was hungry, and told her almost everything she needed to know about Matthew’s feelings.

Her feelings were similar. She wanted to explore them. She wanted to do more.

That was why, when it was Effie who slid her tongue along Matthew’s lips, he stopped in shock. Not that he wanted to – the action was just surprising. He pulled away slightly, making sure it was something she wanted to do. When he saw her open her eyes slowly, she was bringing her hands up, placing them over his. “You can touch me, Matthew,” her voice was barely above a whisper.

He let out a shaky breath. He knew they weren’t exactly gonna hook up in the bathroom or anything, but this was still huge, especially for Effie. “Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded her head. “You won’t hurt me.”

He dipped down and kissed her again. And he kept kissing her, letting his hands wander to her waist and hips, where he gripped them and pulled them closer to his body. And she kept kissing him, letting her hands wander down his chest and under his tuxedo jacket to his back, feeling the thickness of his body. And for at least a few minutes, they were in their own little world, kissing in the men’s bathroom of a banquet hall, hands all over each other as Matthew probably got lipstick all over his mouth.

Effie was loving it. The feeling of his soft lips on hers was unlike anything she’d ever felt, and his tongue in her mouth, tasting slightly of the alcohol he’d drunk before she got there, was intoxicating to say the least. She felt like it could go on forever. She was pretty sure she would let it go on forever if she could. She was happy, so happy that she was doing this – that she could do this. Two years ago, if she’d even thought about it, she would have been scared of being damned to hell for eternity. Now, she was enjoying it. Now, she wanted to do it all the time. Now, she could—

She could—

She—

Now, it hurt a little.

Now, the lips weren’t as soft.

Now, she could feel a prickly, unkept beard scraping at her skin—

“STOP,” she instinctively pushed the body away, scrunching her face and gulping hard. Before she could see Abraham’s face – before it could appear to her in her mind – she opened her eyes and looked at Matthew.

Matthew.

She saw him staring back at her worriedly and she let out a shaky breath. He knew why she stopped; he didn’t need to be told. “I’m—I’m so—”

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright, Effie. We can stop.”

She diverted her eyes from looking at him. She was so embarrassed. “You won’t be mad?” she asked. That was usually how it went for, well…

Matthew put his hand under her chin so he could look her in the eye. “No,” he said, with as much conviction as he could muster. “We can stop whenever you want.”

“I’m so—”

“Do not apologize to me,” he said sternly. She didn’t need to. He needed her to know that. “Never apologize to me for that.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Thank you for stopping.”

“There’s no way in hell I’d keep going.”

Effie nodded. She understood. “At least I’m getting better,” she said. “I didn’t give you a black eye this time.”

Matthew couldn’t help but snort. It released all the tension in the air immediately; even Effie was giggling slightly. “That you did not,” he said, grabbing her hand slightly. “Wanna go back out there? Well, after we get all this lipstick off of me.”

***

The gala was nice. It was formal and the food was decent and even though Matthew basically kept his eye on Effie sitting with Levi and Jenna the entire night, it was nice. He had fun with his teammates. He embarrassed himself on stage for charity. At the silent auction, one of his packages with signed memorabilia went for the second-highest bid. He was proud of what he and the team were able to accomplish in terms of giving back to the community.

But now he had more important things on his mind.

By the time he found Effie again, she was standing in a group with Levi and Jenna, Jacob and Geneviève, and Annica and Elias. It looked like they were chatting about something exciting, so Matthew knew he needed to be there. When Geneviève saw him butt his way in, she smiled. “I was just reminiscing about when Jacob and I met, and how my friends and I went to the pubs in Oxford after our graduation in our robes and Tudor bonnets,” she said, filling him in. “There’s nothing better than showing up to a place severely overdressed and then having the time of your life dancing.”

Matthew looked at Geneviève in her dress. He looked at Annica in hers, and Effie in hers, and Jenna in hers. He looked to his teammates in his tuxedos, and to Levi wearing a form-fitted navy suit. “Wanna go dancing?”

Elias smirked. “The night’s still young.”

***

They ended up at a bar downtown, one that Matthew had been to before but couldn’t really remember exactly what happened (it was his first year in Calgary and he’d just found out hours before that the legal drinking age was only eighteen). The bouncer looked at them all weirdly in their getups but let them in anyway. It was only when they entered that they realized it was frosh week for the University of Calgary, and the bar was full of university students drinking and dancing. The floor was slightly sticky. It was the perfect venue for the goal they wanted to achieve.

“Oh, this takes me back,” Geneviève giggled, looking out at the sea of people. She looked at Annica and Jenna. “Spicy margs?”

Both women nodded. “Spicy margs.”

She looked at Effie. “Have you ever had alcohol?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try it while you’re safe with us?”

Effie nodded.

Geneviève, Effie, and Matthew headed to the bar while the rest of the group went to find a bar table to take over. Matthew made sure Effie got a spot right at the front as he stood directly behind her, his body pressed against hers. Geneviève waved down the bartenders and ordered all the drinks. All the university students clamouring to get a spot at the bar and the attention of the bartenders looked at them weird for their too-fancy clothes. Geneviève didn’t care – it wasn’t like this was her first time doing this. Effie was a little self-conscious, but that soon went away when she saw the drinks being made in front of her.

“Whenever you go out to a bar like this, you always want the bartender to make your drink in front of you. Don’t ever accept a drink from a stranger or if you haven’t seen it made in front of you,” Geneviève cautioned her.

“Okay,” Effie nodded. “What happens if I don’t like the spicy margarita though?”

“Then we’ll get you another drink.”

Once all the drinks were made, they were brought back to the bar table the rest of the group managed to find and everyone began drinking. Effie liked her spicy margarita. Matthew let her take a sip of his beer but she didn’t like that too much. She ordered another spicy margarita. Her body began to feel tingly because of the tequila. The music started to get progressively louder, too, the bass making the floor vibrate. Effie looked out onto the dance floor to see a bunch of people her age dancing – grinding, as Matthew called it at Andrew’s birthday many months ago. She watched them intently, while they were having the time of their lives.

“You okay?” Matthew asked, bending down to ask as she was looking out at the crowd.

“I want to dance but I don’t know how to,” she revealed. “I’m just…looking to see what everyone else is doing. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that grinding.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile. “Nobody knows how to dance, Effie. We all just move our bodies to the beat of the music.”

The song changed suddenly and it made Geneviève scream at the top of her lungs in excitement. Effie watched as she grabbed her drink and Jacob’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor as they began to dance together. Levi and Jenna followed, and so did Annica and Elias. The couples weren’t grinding like the university students, but instead danced facing each other, holding hands or swaying back and forth, holding their drinks it their hands and raising them up in the air, miraculously not spilling a thing. She and Matthew were the only ones left at the bar table. “This was their wedding song, I think,” Matthew explained, watching Effie watch Jacob and Geneviève dancing.

“What’s it called?”

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston.”

“Levi hasn’t introduced me to that one.”

“Levi isn’t the type to listen to Whitney Houston.”

Effie continued to watch them dance, Geneviève singing the lyrics to Jacob at the top of her lungs. They were so in love with each other, even she could see it, and she barely knew what healthy love was. A part of her wondered what made them love each other so much, and another part of her wondered if she should ask. Was it rude to ask something like that?

“D’you want to dance, Effie?” Matthew asked.

Effie looked up at him. “Do you think people will laugh at me because I don’t know how?”

He shook his head. “There’s so many people and they’re all so drunk, they won’t even notice you.”

She gripped her margarita tighter. There was something to be said about overcoming fears ever since she left the cult, and this could be classified as one of them. But she wasn’t like these university students who were moving their bodies so freely and easily. She was much more restrained – with everything really – but she wanted to actively work to move away from that. Conquer her fears. Do what she needed to do to shed herself from the past. So she nodded her head. “Let’s go.”

Matthew grabbed her hand and led her on to the dance floor, moving his body to the song with his beer still in his hand, doing his best not to spill it everywhere, but especially not on Effie wearing Geneviève’s expensive red dress. Effie watched, moving her feet back and forth awkwardly. She looked up at Matthew for reassurance, only to see him already smiling at her. “You got it, you got it,” he said, moving his feet in a similar way.

“What do I do with my hands?” she asked.

“Just throw ‘em up!” he showed her. She did the same movements, but she couldn’t step or move with the beat of the music. Matthew could tell she was nervous. “Just move your body, Effie. Move it however you want. Doesn’t need to be on beat.”

Effie closed her eyes, trying to get the feel of the song in her, but she lost her groove because it soon ended and another began. This one was even more upbeat – well, it had a better beat – and Effie began to move again.

Feel buried alive This city is airtight Suffocated and lonely in the crowd I'm surrounded by All the screens of their life Screaming in to space to drown them out

Effie not only began to move her feet and hands, but she tried swaying her hips a bit. She liked this beat. She loved this beat. She lost herself completely in it, dancing with no inhibitions. Matthew watched as she let loose, moving her body in tune with the music. Her dancing was unlike anyone else’s around her, and the only thing he wanted to was copy her. It looked a bit ridiculous, but it didn’t matter to Matthew. He’d made himself look more ridiculous than this before. This was nothing.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie opened her eyes to see Matthew. Matthew, who would wait for her. Matthew, who had waited for her.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

“Go Effie! Go Effie!” Annica chanted, coming up beside them with Elias, grooving to the beat of the music. Annica watched Effie moving and followed her movements too – albeit more fluidly – and when Effie looked up and saw Annica, a giant smile took over her face. Annica screamed in excitement and cheered their drinks together before moving with her, beside Matthew, letting him get closest to her.

So hold me tight I just wanna fade out Somewhere we can ship the world away I'm ready to hide Far from the fallout They won't find us in the paradise we'll make

“Woooooooo! You go girl! Get loose!” Geneviève screamed from her other side, approaching them with Jacob beside her who was doing a modified version of the robot. Matthew watched as Effie closed her eyes, going into her own little world, raising her arms and bopping her body to the music. It was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her. He vowed right then and there to take her dancing whenever she wanted to go so she could feel this same way.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie was feeling it. She loved it. She loved this. She loved the people she was surrounded by. If this was love, she wanted to feel it all the time.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

When she opened her eyes again, she saw everyone dancing around her. She stepped closer to Matthew, almost so close that she could feel his body against hers. They moved together to the climax of the song, Matthew looking down at her and smiling.

Free falling from the high I'm following the voice I know Free falling from the high I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

In his tuxedo and in her frilly red dress with cape sleeves, surrounded by people. it felt like they were the only ones in the world.

***

“I think I can live a normal life with him,” Effie told Dr. Barlow as she sat in her usual seat in the office, looking down at her hands. She’d already been talking for almost an hour during her session, but she felt the need to get that statement out. Dr. Barlow had the right to know.

“With Matthew?” Dr. Barlow clarified.

Effie nodded her head. Who else would she be talking about? “He’s never once made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe or…like…ashamed of what I went through,” she elaborated.

“That’s a very positive thing,” Dr. Barlow said, her voice steady. “It’s good that you’re thinking about these things, Effie. You’re thinking about your future. You actually see a future for yourself. But how normal do you think a friendship or perhaps even a life with a hockey player can be?” she asked.

Effie shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I barely understand hockey as it is.”

“Well, hockey players don’t exactly live the most conventional of lifestyles. They travel a lot, as I’m sure you know since Levi travels with the team.”

“Yeah…” Effie didn’t know where Dr. Barlow was going with this. “That’s…that’s not the biggest deal to me.”

Dr. Barlow nodded her head, writing something down on her pad of paper. “Have you continued to kiss him since he’s come back?” Effie nodded. “Regularly?”

“Semi-regularly.”

“Have you told Dr. Stevenson?” she asked. Effie nodded again. “Do you still envision Abraham sometimes?”

Effie hesitated before nodding her head. She knew she couldn’t lie. “It’s been getting better though. We kissed for a couple of minutes once before I, um, felt Abraham’s beard. And when he stopped, he didn’t get mad at all. I means it’s progress from when he brushed up against me in bed and I gave him a black eye,” she tried to joke.

Dr. Barlow apparently didn’t find it funny like Matthew had. She just nodded again and wrote on her note pad. “You should tell Dr. Stevenson about that.”

***

“I made another pint of maple pecan ice cream,” Effie told Levi as she handed him a Tupperware full of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. They were mostly for Jenna – she was craving them. Jenna had been craving a lot of things lately, ever since Effie got her own mixer, anyway. Effie had been experimenting making ice cream. The café was pleased about this as well. The owner was already looking to invest in ice cream storage to be able to serve it. “I’ve found a real gem in you, Effie,” the owner would repeat over and over again to her. Matthew had to stop himself constantly from getting a third bowl on nights he’d come over. He’d tap at his stomach and say “I can’t” but when he’d go and put his bowl in the sink, she’d always see him hesitate before he did so. “Do you want it?”

“Please,” he begged his sister. She moved to open her freezer. “I swear Effie, the best thing Matthew’s ever done was get you that KitchenAid. I’ve been gaining weight ever since.”

Effie smiled. “At least you’re not the hockey player that has to stay in peak physical condition. Matthew’s been complaining that I’m making him pudgy.”

“Thank God.”

“Speaking of…” she began, handing him the pint of ice cream. “Do you think you can teach me about hockey?”

“You mean like the rules and stuff?”

“Yeah. You know, like what’s going on out there whenever I’m at games.”

“Okay,” he nodded, shrugging his shoulder slightly. “Any reason?”

“If I’m going to be surrounded by hockey because of you, then I should learn it, shouldn’t I?” Effie asked rhetorically.

“Sure,” he side-eyed his sister playfully. “But does this have anything to do with Matthew?”

“What if it does?”

Levi smiled. He knew there was something going on between the two of them, regardless of whether or not they wanted to tell him. He liked Matthew, he knew he was a good kid, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She could have hooked up with someone way worse. Actually, she could have gone the opposite route of where she currently was (which many former cult members went), which was becoming a hypersexual after being sexually repressed for so many years. Effie was taking her time with it, and that was fine, but if her friendship…or relationship, or whatever she had going on with Matthew was any indication, Levi figured Effie was thinking about it. “I don’t care, Effie. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“So you’ll teach me?”

“Of course. I’ll have you screaming at the referees in no time.”

***

“So Levi’s teaching me about hockey,” Effie said as she marinated chicken in her kitchen, her phone call with Matthew on speakerphone as she moved around and got her hands dirty.

“He is?”

“Mhm. By the time the home opener comes around, I’ll be able to understand what’s going on,” she revealed.

“I better get you a Tkachuk jersey then.”

Effie smiled bashfully, even though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t want me wearing a Markstrom one like last time?” she joked.

“Effie.”

***

Effie was nervous as she sat in Dr. Stevenson’s office. Not because she was scared, or because she wasn’t a good sex therapist, or because of anything like that. She was nervous to admit to her the thoughts she’d been having about Matthew, even though she knew Dr. Stevenson wouldn’t judge her at all and that it was his job to help her. Help her make peace with these thoughts; help her realize they were completely normal and okay; help her act on them, eventually, in a healthy way. Dr. Stevenson already knew about Matthew – she knew about him from Effie’s very first day.

“My mind may not be ready but my body is physically attracted to him. I don’t know how to…you know, mend the two so that both are on the same page,” Effie admitted after almost an hour. “I want to be with him. I do. I know he won’t hurt me – that he’d never hurt me.”

Dr. Stevenson nodded. “When you were in the People’s Dominion of Christ, there was a huge power imbalance between Abraham, being the prophet and leader, and the followers – you,” Dr. Stevenson began to explain. “This imbalance made it impossible for you to give true consent to sex.”

Effie’s body stiffened. Consent. Geneviève had taught her that term early on. Consent was giving permission for something to happen. Effie had never given her consent to marry Abraham. She’d never given Abraham consent to consummate their marriage. She’d never given Abraham consent to touch her, stroke her, do anything to her. She’d surely never given him consent to impregnate her. “Okay…that makes sense. But I didn’t know I had to give consent. I thought that men could do whatever they wanted with my body. Especially Abraham, since he was the prophet.”

“The institutionalized sexism in the cult is nothing I haven’t heard before. Many victims like yourself have said the exact same thing to me,” Dr. Stevenson said. “You are not alone. There are many people like you, unfortunately. When females are not equally valued because of misogyny, because of outdated traditional gender roles that are disempowering, it makes women like you experience sexual inequality and become more susceptible to leaders who will exploit you.”

“So how do I get it back?”

“Get what back?”

“My agency. My…my…” Effie began to tear up, thinking about all the things she had to endure at the hands of Abraham – literally and metaphorically. “How do I get my mind back? My body is finally mine, and I can do what I want with it, but I don’t feel like I have my mind back yet if I’m kissing Matthew but then all of a sudden I remember the feeling of Abraham’s beard or that I can’t sit or lie at the foot of a bed because that’s where…”

Dr. Stevenson took a deep breath. “One way to do so is to embrace, appreciate, and celebrate your sexual self. That is what I am trying to help you do here. You need to understand that your capacity for pleasure is not a luxury, and it is not shameful either. It is a necessity for a well-balanced and emotionally happy life. As a woman – as a survivor of sexual abuse, of rape – you should take a stand for your own sexual healing and embrace sexual pleasure as something that will help heal you.”

Effie nodded her head, more tears escaping her now, but she understood. She knew what she needed to do, and the mental shift she needed to go through. Touching could be pleasurable for the woman. Sex could be pleasurable for the woman. Not everything had to hurt. Not everything had to come with pain.

“I’m not saying this is going to happen tomorrow for you, Effie,” Dr. Stevenson continued. “I’m not saying it’ll happen next month, or year. It happens quickly for some, and for others it can take years. Everybody has their own timeline – you included. You have to remember that your trauma comes with complex PTSD. If you set goals for yourself, like you already have been doing, with a person you are comfortable with – Matthew – your sexual self will grow with your physical self and your mental self. When those three parts of you are aligned, they will all grow stronger, and make you stronger.”

Effie kept nodding. The words were permeating through her like lightning. “I’m going to try. I’m really going to try.”

“Just stop when you need to stop. Go when you want to go. You’ll get there, Effie.”

***

“Did you learn about gay people in the cult?” Matthew asked as he prepared Brokeback Mountain on the TV while Effie finished pouring the popcorn into the bowl.

“Not in a good way, if that’s what you’re really asking,” she said from the kitchen. “You know the stupid Bible verse. The prophet called it an abomination. But it was one of the first things that Levi and Jenna taught out of me when I first went to live with them, because Jenna’s brother is gay and has a husband and two kids. Levi didn’t want me to be shocked if I ever saw them.”

Matthew didn’t know that about Jenna. But he nodded his head and watched Effie bring the bowl of popcorn over. “Have you met them?”

Effie nodded. “They came over a few months after I arrived. They were so incredibly kind,” she explained. She handed the popcorn bowl to Matthew to take before folding her leg and collapsing onto the couch beside him, facing him. “It really…it really messed with me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to think that way. It was what I was conditioned to think. I didn’t know better. And I felt so bad, because I knew they knew, but they were so understanding. From the moment they walked through the door they were so nice and they didn’t hold it against me,” she explained.

Matthew could only listen. And though he listened through her entire explanation, he was hung up on one thing. “You should stop calling him the prophet,” he said suddenly, not really thinking it through but needing to get it out. “He wasn’t a prophet. He wasn’t even your husband. He was just some guy.”

Effie looked stunned by what he was saying. She’d never considered that before. She was so used to calling him the prophet that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind – ever. “You’re right,” she said, unable to say anything else. It was such a simple sentiment but it held so much power. “I…you’re right, Matthew.”

He smiled slightly. “Wanna start the movie?”

Effie nodded. Matthew extended his arm to move the bowl to the side, and his other arm moved upwards slightly, signalling to Effie that it was already to cuddle. She moved closer to him, snuggling into his side and letting both legs drape over his thigh. Only then did he let his arm down, draping it over her back. Effie looked up at him. “Is that okay?” she asked.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, placing the bowl of popcorn between their bodies so they had equal access to it. “You comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“Effie, are you comfortable?” he repeated.

She knew why he was repeating himself. She looked up at him and smiled. “The comfiest I’ve ever been.”

Matthew pressed play. From that moment, Effie’s eyes were glued to the screen, hooked on the love story unfolding in front of her. For Matthew, he was more hooked on watching her than the movie, but he kept up slightly. At some point during the movie – Matthew didn’t pay attention when – Effie’s hand settled on his abs, and it was all he could think about for the rest of the night. He was acutely aware of its placement. Then, the sadder scenes started happening, and he’d feel the hand grip his t-shirt, and his body would seize up. She’d soften it, but then grip again when something emotional would happen. Then the scene where Ennis visits Jack’s parents after his death occurred, and Ennis was let into Jack’s childhood bedroom and found his old shirt. Matthew watched as Ennis smelled it and clutched it against his chest.

Then he heard Effie let out a sob.

She gripped him tighter than she ever had. He tightened his hold on her too, shifting slightly and letting his shirt ride up against the couch, just so she could cuddle into him even more than she already was. He could feel her hand on his skin now, gripping at his side tenderly as the tears still rolled down her face. He took the opportunity to place his hand in the small sliver of space where her shirt had ridden up too, squeezing and massaging it gently to comfort her. “Y’okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the TV. As the movie continued, Matthew left his hand exactly where it was, and Effie left her hand exactly where it was. Holding each other. Clutching each other.

When the movie ended, Effie didn’t move for a long time. Not even when the credits began rolling on the screen. “Are you okay, Effie?” Matthew repeated his question from earlier, albeit a bit louder and more pronounced this time.

“I think my heart is broken,” she finally let out, bringing the hand that was squeezing his side to her face so she could wipe her tears away. “That was beautiful. Beautiful.”

“It was,” Matthew agreed. It was very obvious the movie was affecting her a lot.

Effie moved so she could look up at Matthew, craning her head and bringing her hand up to cradle his face so she could kiss him. When their lips connected, Matthew could feel the wetness of her cheeks. “I can’t believe I was ever scared of that,” she whispered against his lips when she pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is what you think now.”

Effie nodded. He always knew the right things to say. He was helping her change her past and way of thinking one way or another. “I think I want to kiss you again.”

Matthew kissed her. And even as the credits finished, neither of them would let go of the other.

***

The Calgary Flames home opener at the Saddledome had Effie buzzing with excitement. She wore a brand new pair of jeans for the occasion, and arrived at the game with Jenna, Annica, and Geneviève. As was normal for them, Annica was wearing her tried and true Lindholm jersey, while Geneviève was sporting a Markstrom one. Jenna wore Levi’s old Iginla jersey.

Effie had Tkachuk sprawled across her back.

“Do you want to go down near the ice and wave?” Annica asked, and Effie nodded her head. “It might get a big crowded, so stay near me.”

The ladies descended down the steps, joining the pretty big crowd that had formed against the glass beside Jacob’s net. A bunch of kids were up against the glass with homemade signs, their parents near them taking pictures. Some men around Effie’s age were there too, drinking beers with their jerseys on and taking videos on their phones. Other girls her age were there too, taking pictures of all the players. “Can you see Matthew?” Geneviève asked as she looked down at Effie.

“He’s over there,” she smiled, pointing at Matthew across the ice. He was practicing his stickhandling, in such deep concentration that he didn’t look up for a while. When he finally did look up, happy with his stickhandling, he began skating around the ice, bumping into Noah and Andrew along the way.

Effie waved excitedly.

Matthew stopped when he saw her. Even though there was glass streaked with puck shots and some distance between them, she could see him smile from ear to ear, his mouth guard hanging out. He waved back, his hockey glove looking like a giant bear claw.

“God you two are insufferable,” Geneviève said jokingly.

Matthew continued to skate around, shooting the puck at the net, each of them going in. Geneviève noticed all of his glances back at them, and the small smile constantly on his face as he went about his drills. When the practice was almost over, she kept an eye intently on him, watching as he skated over. She knew what he wanted to go. “Go closer,” she said to Effie, urging her with a little nudge.

Effie took her cue and stepped down, closer to the glass. Matthew had flipped a puck over the glass towards a kid with a sign for him. Now, as Effie watched, he pointed to her and made sure everyone around knew who he was pointing to. She turned around slightly, pointing to his name on her back. He smiled wide and flipped another puck, perfectly, right into her hands.

Geneviève watched as the young women around them eyed Effie suspiciously.

***

“Matthew!” Effie squealed once he finally emerged from the locker room, his suit back on and his tie tied loosely around his neck. She hugged him excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he reciprocated. “Great game!”

“Thanks, Effie.”

“And your goal!” she continued. Now that she actually understood hockey, and now that she wasn’t scared about every little thing around her at the arena, she could actually enjoy the experience and know what was going on. “What a great goal!”

He had the puck in his pocket, and had planned to give it to her, but right now his mind was elsewhere. Seeing her in his jersey at the beginning of the game did things to him, and although he was able to focus throughout the sixty minutes, now that he saw her again with his name sprawled across her back, his mind was right where it was the moment he first saw her that night. “Wanna come over mine and watch a movie?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.

To his complete surprise, Effie nodded her head immediately. “Of course.”

They left inconspicuously without saying goodbye to anyone.

***

Effie broke down during the first scene.

Matthew had changed out of his suit and into a sweater and track pants, and Effie had taken off the jersey and hung it up in his front closet. They cuddled on the couch together, exactly as they’d done when they watched Brokeback Mountain, and Matthew pressed play on Netflix. The first scene was the main character, Esty, packing up her most valuable belongings, including a small picture of her grandmother, and running away from her Hasidic community. All before the opening credits. When the show’s opening played, he heard Effie let out a loud sob.

“Hey hey hey,” he cooed, watching as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth to try and control herself, but there was no use. Tears were streaming down her face. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

“It’s me,” she said softly, through tears. “It’s me.”

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her even closer against his body, if that was possible. Every inch of her was touching him now, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he hoped that brought her at least some reprieve. She was wiping her face with her hands, and he could see her chest heaving, though he could tell she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “We can stop it or watch so—”

“No,” she interjected sternly, looking up at him. “I can do this.”

“I know you can Effie, but—”

“No buts. I can watch this,” she was adamant.

Matthew lost. He knew he would. He bit his bottom lip and nodded his head. “Will you promise to tell me if it becomes too much?”

Effie nodded. She snuck her hand underneath his sweater to feel his skin again, and she – surprisingly – game him a quick peck before laying her head on his chest again. “Press play.”

Matthew kissed her forehead, then the crown of her head, then laid his cheek there before pressing play.

Effie broke down again less than ten minutes later, when the grandmother was listening to an old German song, An Die Musik sung by Elisabeth Scwartzkopf. And again, when Yanky was searching her childhood bedroom and found her personal items and her music. The last scene she cried to was near the end, when Esty’s biological mother showed up and gave her documents to prove German citizenship “just in case you need somewhere else to go”. When the episode ended, Effie was shedding her last tears. Matthew paused Netflix before the episode could switch over. “You okay?”

Effie nodded, despite her tears. “I know it’s different religions, but a lot of things were just, like, so similar,” she explained. “The…the beginning brought me back.”

“I can only imagine,” Matthew whispered.

“The grandmother crying listening to that beautiful song. Esty’s music. Her mom still looking out for her despite abandoning her. It all just…it all just really hit home.” Matthew nodded. It was the only thing he could do. If Effie wanted to elaborate, she could, but he wasn’t going to force her. Instead, he shifted her body so she was sitting more in his lap as opposed to right beside him. She steadied her breathing, and her tears had stopped. “When I went to live with the proph—Abraham, as his wife,” she began, “he made me leave everything at home besides my clothes. I couldn’t see my favourite things unless I was visiting, and even then, I’d never be alone in my room for more than two minutes because he knew I’d be reminiscing, and he said it was a sin to dwell on my past life when I should have been looking forward to my future as his wife and as a mother to his son of God.” She paused, biting her bottom lip; Matthew could tell she was remembering it all vividly in her mind. “After a year my mom threw out all my things anyway. Because she agreed with him.”

“What did you have? What were your things?” he asked, sad and angry and disturbed all at once.

“Just simple things. Nothing special,” she said. “My…my own Bible that I’d been using since I was a kid. A journal I had where I recorded my favourite verses. A doll I had when I was a kid that another member made for me. Just stupid things.”

“They’re not stupid things if they were special for you,” Matthew said. “I can’t believe your mom threw them all out. My mom has kept my kindergarten paintings.”

Effie smiled slightly. “That’s because you have a good mom who knows how to be a mother.”

Matthew digressed. Effie obviously hadn’t meant Chantal yet, but Matthew talked about her enough that Effie knew a lot about her. “I know I keep saying this, but you’re so strong, Effie.”

“It’s a lot to overcome,” she whispered, nodding her head. They sat for a while in comfortable silence, just being with each other. Matthew’s arms were still wrapped around her. Effie was still in hip lap, looking at him. “Will you kiss me, Matthew?”

Matthew smiled slightly before dipping his head down and capturing her lips in a kiss. It wasn’t long before – once again – Effie took the initiative to slip her tongue into his mouth. There was kissing – so much kissing – and Matthew took it upon himself to start to lay Effie down on the couch, his body looming over hers slightly and—

“Stop,” Effie said, her hands on his chest, pushing him off her slightly. Matthew immediately stopped and moved away from her. Her chest heaved up and down once before she pushed herself up. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize,” he said. “Did you see him again?”

Effie didn’t answer. “I think it happened because we laid down,” she said, her lips puffy from all the kissing.

Matthew was catching his breath. He was thankful that he was wearing track pants or else Effie would see how…excited he’d become. “How about you stay on top then?”

She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“We—we can stay upright,” Matthew explained. “You can sit on my lap if you want…facing me. Or you could just…you know, like, sit…” he was losing his words.

Effie looked confused. Nervous. Like she didn’t know what to think. Like she was picturing the scenario in her head and couldn’t really make sense of any of it. “W—Women are allowed to do that?” she asked softly. Matthew couldn’t speak; he could only stare at her flabbergasted. He nodded his head slightly, and Effie thought about it. How women could be ‘on top’. What that would look like. What that would entail. “C…Can you—can you show…” she was too embarrassed to even be asking.

“C’mere,” he said, extending his hand. She put her hand in his and he pulled her towards him. “Put your one leg over here,” he said, patting to the space on the other side of him. She did so slowly. “And your other leg goes here,” he explained, and she did the same movement, “and now you can just sit on my lap.”

Effie took a deep breath as she lowered herself down until she could feel his thighs as her seat. Both she and Matthew had barely blinked the entire time during his simple act of showing her how to straddle him, but she had never done it before (and it wasn’t like she would have been allowed to), and so everything about it was new to her. Now, she was face-to-face with him, her hands resting on his chest, his hands resting near the bend in her knees. “This is new,” she said.

“Are you comfy?” he asked. She nodded. “D’you like it?” he asked again.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” she admitted. “But I can see it being nice.”

Being nice. Matthew couldn’t help but grin. “It’ll be nice. Trust me.”

Effie nodded. She did trust Matthew. So when she went in to continue their kisses, it was nice, and it was beautiful, and it wasn’t so bad anymore. Which is why, when Matthew’s hands moved from her knees up her thighs, it was okay. When his hands squeezed at her flesh through her pants before going higher, it was okay. When his hands moved to her hips and pulled her even closer, it was okay.

It was okay.

298 notes · View notes

lilakennedy · 2 years

Text

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐈

After barely getting any sleep and dealing with a broken arm, your own mind drags you away from your mundane life again...

once more some Galloper writing from yours truly! the style and characterization of him is similar to the first part of this, so if it wasn’t your cup of tea, this probably won’t be either!!

this part is a bit late due to my arthritis giving me trouble - and also ungodly amounts of research into a random piece of clothing for historical accuracy.

thank you to everyone that enjoyed the first part! i hope this one is a fun read as well! :)

tagging: @foggy-milk

gender neutral MC! once again, nothing romantic but if anyone’s crushing on the man, i hope you have fun!! :>

words: 10.1k

cw: injury mention & blood mention but nothing severe, lots of creative liberties and giving random NPCs personality,

english is not my first language, so some of the horse-related terminology might be off! i apologize!!

➝ pt. I

Sunlight greets you as you open the doors to step outside, shining down to brighten your features in the warm morning glow.

Exhaustedly you move one hand up to shield your eyes from the light, giving a short and displeased groan at the stars and shapes you are forced to see for the next few seconds. The little shapes dance in your vision, becoming ten times more prominent every time you squeeze your eyes shut.

The wooden floors creak under your feet as you shift your weight and turn to pull the door shut behind you. Luckily you are familiar enough with the stables to navigate blindly while you can hear the quiet noises of the land coming to life around you.

It is early morning, the late seasons keeping everything in a layer of mist that made the landscapes look ethereal. The sun has just peeked across the horizon and past the buildings, the skies still a wondrous mess of golden, red, blue and pink as the morning slowly took the first frosts of Autumn with it.

You can hear the people of Moorland slowly start their day; The first hooves across pavement as some take their horses for a morning ride, the gentle voices of people exchanging greetings and wishing good morning to their friends and strangers alike, the distant sound of a rooster calling.

Lowering the hand from your eyes, you look around with a light squint as you try your best to keep your gaze low. With a sigh you look down at your arm. The one wrapped in a cast, that is.

The wrist had been fractured thanks to your tumble last night, leaving it in an unmoving and heavy white cast.

Getting home and onto your horse with only one arm turned out to be a bigger challenge than you had expected, your issue really only becoming clear once you and your horse stood alone in the middle of Golden Hills.

But with enough luck and getting your horse to hold still, you managed to get back into your saddle with one arm and the help of a fence. Afterwards, the trip back to Moorland was calm - Not accounting for your thoughts that had been racing at 180 miles per hour the entire way home.

As soon as you arrived back at the stables, you were greeted with most of the lights off and the gates closed. Unsure and trying to be quiet at this late hour, you got off of your horse's back with only medium struggles and led them through the stables to get back inside.

As if fate was having pity on you, you spotted a few small lights from inside the stables and peeked around to spot Jenna. Her blonde hair was a mess after what seemed to have been a long day. She was sat on a large bag of shavings, looking through her phone.

You struck up a conversation with her, and upon revealing your injured arm she was kind enough to drive you to the nearest doctor for a check up.

That was roughly 6 hours ago.

Now you have other problems, like explaining to Conrad why your wrist is broken in two. You still have a good 30 minutes before he expects you, so you take a moment to walk around the stables and just let your thoughts run free.

You still have not contacted any of the others, no one really knows of your mishap from last night, everyone just thinks you made it home without incident - Except Jenna, at least. The cast is not going to be something you can hide, but you hope that it will be an easy conversation with anyone that might ask.

It fills you with a certain anxiety to speak about it, scared you might spill more than what you deem acceptable - You even tested out various ways to explain how you broke your arm, talking to yourself as you checked on your horses just a few minutes ago; Who you could swear were eyeing you, concerned that their owner was wildly rambling about their broken bones.

Your feet carry you aimlessly until you come to a stop by a fence and carefully rest both your arms on top of it, looking straight ahead to see the water shimmer under the sunrise. A few birds fly across the untouched morning sky and the lighthouse from the Harvest Counties stands tall by the side.

As you rest your arms, your eyes automatically fly down to look at the cast and immediately any sense of normality flies out the window along the breeze.

You feel as if this is going to be a recurring theme for as long as the cast is stuck around your arm.

It feels like a dream, everything that happened felt unreal - But then you look at the cast and you’re reminded of how real your trip through Golden Hills was.

With a groan you shift your position and let your head rest on your arms. The doctor even praised you for your fast thinking of holding the arm still. You clearly could not tell them who had done that for you, leaving you to politely nod and internally lose your mind.

Maybe it actually did happen? Maybe you had a concussion or an exhaustion-induced anxiety nightmare. You aren’t entirely sure which it is.

A small part of your mind wonders if you should try to meet him again and ask if it all really happened, but the thought is rewarded by a snort as you shake your head and stand back up straight. You should be glad you got back home safely and let the entire night be in the past, you tell yourself.

With a sigh you stretch your left arm above your head and allow the rest of your body to follow the movement of it. Your entire body feels beaten from what happened, so any pain relief is welcomed as you carefully take the tension out of some of your muscles, wincing whenever the pain spikes.

“Good morning!” Calls a person that you feel like you should know, leaving you to wave in return. They walk past you with a gentle smile before disappearing into one of the storage rooms. You mumble a nearly incomprehensible greeting after they have long gone out of earshot.

It is around this time that you decide to walk over to Conrad’s and get the day started properly.

The familiar path is not long, but it allows you to look around and watch how everything is changing along with the heart of late autumn stretching its long arms across the lands.

You can see two people up by Mrs. Holdsworth’s house, talking to her and seemingly handing her some things as she smiles warmly. You can hear her voice but it is impossible to make out the words. Down the path you can spot a single rider on their chilly, early morning ride as they seem to huddle themselves deeper into their coat.

Careful to watch your step as you walk down the small slope to where Conrad is standing, your boots slide along the fallen leaves and come to a wobbly stop.

Conrad seems distracted as you make your way over, but he soon notices you and you see a characteristic smile show on his face.

“Good Morning!” He greets you as he steps forward to face you properly, but his eyes land on your cast as you smile sheepishly. With his brows furrowing, he looks back up to your face. “Oh heavens, what did you do now kid!?”

A nervous laugh escapes you as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Fell off my horse and landed unlucky - It’s nothing serious, just going to take a few weeks.”

Conrad scoffs in disbelief before smacking your shoulder: “I have not seen you fall off a horse since you arrived here!!”

You hide your wince under a laugh and go to rub the spot he hit once he turns away from you.

Helping Conrad is nothing new, you remember the things he had taught you when you had barely even set foot into Jorvik. The time you spent here allowed you to grow fond of the blacksmith and his unique ways of handling things.

Today he goes easy on you, only giving you small tasks and does not ask much of you - Which you do not take personally and are instead rather grateful for not hurting yourself even more.

The work is a nice distraction from the things that have been plaguing your mind, but they still decide to show themselves in the most unconventional moments and at some point even nearly cost you a finger, had you not realized you zoned out.

It’s just short before noon when you finish up and Conrad sends you back on your merry way, wishing you well and telling you to take care of yourself and not break your other arm.

With a few more scratches on your hand and a light burn near the fingernail of your pinky, you make your way back under the cloudy sky.

The colorful sky you had seen hours prior is now a light grey, covered in soft clouds that slowly seem to become more and more heavy. With your lips pressed together you wonder what you could do if it should start to rain soon.

It is warmer than when you had first left, you note, but the sun hiding behind the clouds keeps it from warming up just a tad more. The light frost that covered the grass and fences around you is now melted, leaving everything to shimmer with the water droplets resting on it.

Despite the lack of frost, you could still see your breath float ahead of you.

As you watch the small cloud dissipate in front of you, you once more get lost in thought.

Would anyone believe you if you told them of your encounter with the headless horseman? Who could you even tell about it? Maybe you should just keep it to yourself, not wanting to stir up any issues or trouble.

A small pout lays on your face as your brows furrow - Why did he seem nice, you wonder nearly angrily.

This simple encounter has your head spinning in both the best and worst way.

A certain excitement tingles at your fingertips whenever you think about it all. It is so unreal and nothing you had ever seen before or heard about. The thought of it being your own adventure to cherish is exciting you like a child.

But on the other hand, an odd sense of worry creeps through your thoughts at any given point. What if it would have terrible repercussions for you or the people around you? What if you accidentally messed up terribly without realizing?

You both want to sprint toward and away from whatever you are getting yourself into.

Shaking your head, you remind yourself that you are not getting yourself into anything. Nothing would come of this. It is maybe not even real. And even if you want to investigate, you are not allowed to ride while the cast is on, so a trip back to Golden Hills seems out of the question for multiple reasons.

It is roughly two hours later that you cross the gate to Golden Hills on horseback.

Your cast is covered by a large jacket and a pair of gloves, trying your best at keeping any dirt or moisture from touching the cast, to avoid the doctors scolding you for going against the orders you were given.

Your horse’s steps gently carry you along the forest as the afternoon light filters through the leaves and creates a uniquely hypnotizing pattern on the cobblestone ahead of you.

With the sun peeking through the overcast skies, the warm glow leaves the entire world around you golden as you slowly ride forward without a real plan.

Your eyes wander around, trying to figure out what you even want to do now that you’re here. While you look around, the clouds swallow the sunlight and leave you within a dim grey as the wind creates small spirals of leaves at the side of the pathway.

To the side you can spot the farm of old Jasper, who seems busy trying to show a few people something - It is impossible to see any of the people’s faces, but the body language of everyone involved makes you give a short laugh before turning to look somewhere else.

Now that your arm is secure and snug in the cast, the movements of your horse feel way more comfortable than they did last night. The fractured wrist stays unmoving and entirely unbothered as the rest of your body moves along the rhythm of your horse's pace.

With a small sound of surprise, you lean to the side to dodge a low hanging twig. The winds must have broken it, you think to yourself. Only a few, dried leaves are left hanging on for dear life and you think you might be seeing a thin spider web wrapping around parts of it.

Shifting your posture a bit to sit more comfortably, you focus on the path ahead as it breaks apart into two - And a small gap in the fencing to the right.

You could head down into the valley for a small walk or maybe head up and around to the Fishing Village and take a rest near the Golden Leaf stables - But your eyes keep stealing glances over to the path on the very right, where it snakes up the side of the hill before disappearing between the trees. You look toward it every few seconds, as if the path itself would catch you staring if you dared to focus more intently.

Coming to a stop by the forking path, you and your horse seem to be interested in different things.

Leaning down their neck to just get a few bites of the semi-dried grass near the path, your horse seems unbothered as you are stuck trying to decide how much you are willing to get scolded by the doctors.

A grimace of frustration stretches across your face as you grind your teeth together. Why do you even want to go back? And if you do go back, what are you even dreading to see? Hoping to see?

All it would bring you is a longer path around and probably getting into trouble if the wrong people see you and sing to your doctors about your escapades, like little robins on a windowsill.

With the help of your voice, you move your horse into a canter and rush up through the gap in the fence, hoping that if you just hurry and move fast, your common sense won’t be able to kick in before it’s too late.

Past the wooden signs as you glance at them and up the cobblestone road into the forest, you hold the reins tight in one hand and feel your horses' hoof beats hit the dirt path in a steady rhythm.

The trees move past in a blur as you let your horse break into a gallop, their breathing heavier as they hurry along at your command. An uncertain feeling enters your chest, a sliver of fear at your own asinine decisions and how you are continuously going against your better judgement.

You watch as your horse's mane moves with their neck and the speed of the winds before you move your eyes back upward, sternly focusing and strangely determined.

Every rock and uneven patch that nearly caused you to fall just hours ago is now ignored and not noticeable as your horse speeds across the pathway that you spent wobbling down for various minutes.

In between the trees you see a few birds rush upwards and fly off, their bodies and wings barely visible before they disappear out of sight.

With a gasp, you begin to tell your horse to slow down; “Woah, woah woah!”

The momentum of it makes you lean forward into their neck. Their hooves come to a stop and you stare ahead.

Nothing is ahead of you, except the long, empty bridge stretching across the mountain.

Your horses hooves have stopped mere inches from the bridge, you notice as you lean over to pat them on the neck and thank them for doing so well.

Nothing is ahead of you, but still you can feel your heart in your throat. Standing high and unreachable to your right, the castle catches your attention as you remember you could not see it last night. The grey clouds behind it look like paint on a canvas as the dark red brick looks dull in the dim light of the overcast day.

Your common sense is catching up with you after rushing up here, you can feel it gnawing at your skull as you wonder why you can’t just let it all be and move on, go back home and pretend everything that happened was just a dream. The way you are playing with your life and risking your head just to get confirmation of something - It leaves a small voice in your head screeching at you to cut it out.

Are you even here to find confirmation? Are you looking for proof to ease your own mind out of thinking you had lost it? Or are you here to fall headfirst into an adventure, a mystery?

Most people would run for the hills after surviving such an encounter, they would thank Aideen for not having lost their life, move forward and never look back.

Yet, here you are, staring at the very place you thought you were going to die in last night, ready to march back and see what happens.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you tell your horse to move ahead.

The familiar sound of their hooves on the old stone are sharp against the earlier silence, forcing you to pay attention with each step you're taking forward. Echoes of every small noise bounce around the abyss beneath.

Up here it is colder than down by the gate and the clouds seem closer as you look up at the sky. You purse your lips as you wonder when it would rain or if the clouds would pass by without shedding any of their weight.

The further you get onto the bridge, the more nervous you become - But at the same time, you also are getting calmer as you realize nothing would happen...Most likely, at least.

You nearly smack yourself for feeling a pinch of disappointment as you're halfway across the bridge.

As if on instinct, your eyes glue themselves to the spot you had been sitting in last night, curled up against the cold stone that nearly numbed your legs.

You feel a shiver run down your spine and your eyes go down to your broken arm. What truly happened last night? Part of you says that you very well know what happened, but the disbelief swats it away before it can grow roots - As if it hasn’t already taken hold of a good part of your mind.

Soon, you’re crossing the last few meters of the bridge and breathe in deeply through your nose. With your one hand on the reins, you manage to turn your horse to allow you both to face the bridge somewhat. Your eyes linger before you decide to get a move on.

With a small huff, your horse moves along the trail at a walking pace as you still cannot stop yourself from glancing around the area, looking for anything that would either prove or disprove anything that happened last night. But you have to admit to yourself, you are not even sure what exactly you’re on the lookout for.

As you’re making your way through the trees and across the fallen leaves, your mind begins to leave the idea of finding anything and you are able to focus on the surroundings. It is so much more pale and dull than usual, the overcast skies stealing the vibrancy and leaving everything in a thin layer of desaturation.

It looks both calming and haunting, an untouched peace in the mist.

By the side of the mountains, your view of the Fishing Village is amazing, allowing you to see the lights of peoples homes, where they must be cozy and warm inside. Autumn has been here for a while and is moving bit by bit.

A particularly harsh breeze causes you to shiver, making you hike up your shoulders and squeeze yourself together in hopes of staying warm. It is afternoon and the sun is setting, even if it is hidden by the clouds. It is going to get cold now, you know for certain.

And dark, too. It always catches you off guard just how quickly the light of the sun disappears once it’s dipping low. Nevertheless with these clouds.

You can feel your horse huff a breath as they shake their head a bit, leaving you to pat the side of their neck.

“We’re heading home soon…”

Like ice water the Deja Vu hits you. It leaves you with an odd itch in the back of your mind that you cannot scratch and an unsettling feeling in the base of your chest.

You should really head home directly this time, you think to yourself.

A few minutes later, you and your companion are exiting the forest in a trot, the cold winds around you making your nose cold and red.

Golden Hills slowly becomes darker and the clouds seem more imposing, heavier. Something tells you the earth would not stay dry much longer, urging you to hurry home.

Mentally you berate yourself for taking the long trip out here, fuelled by nothing more than a hunch to prove something to yourse-

Your train of thought is cut as a droplet of water hits your face.

Immediately, your eyes move skywards and surely enough - More drops hit your face and force your eyes shut.

“You couldn’t have waited until I was inside!?” You grumble at the clouds.

With your horse now in a canter and you pouting, you rush along the stone path; Past the Valley, along the fence that surrounds Scarecrow Hill and past the lanterns that sway in the wind.

As the rain picks up, your eyes struggle to stay open and force your head a bit lower as you squint. It is pouring now.

Luckily, you soon reach the final stretch of Golden Hills and hope to take a break inside the riding hall, to warm up and maybe grab a bottle of water.

But your plans change abruptly as you’re forced to slow your horse down to a walk and eventually let them stop in the middle of the downpour. Your eyes widen while your brows furrow in confusion.

The large iron gate you had just come through earlier, is now closed.

“What?” You ask yourself, unsure on why this would be the case. The last time you had seen this gate shut was when you came here with that key you spent days to get.

Allowing your horse to step a bit closer and shielding your eyes from the downpour, you notice that the gate is not locked, but simply slammed shut - Theoretically an easy task, if you could use both your hands.

Frustrated and cold you move to hop off of your horse. Your boots land in the puddles that have already started to form as the rain beats down on you unforgivingly, so harshly you swear it could bruise you.

With your healthy hand you grab your horse's reins and step closer to the gate.

“Okay….Okay,” You mumble out loud, nodding. “We can...We can do this. It can’t be that hard.”

Telling your horse to stay put and letting go of the reins for a moment, you turn to use your left hand on the mechanism of the gate. The iron feels ice cold even through the glove, the wetness from the rain not making it any more comfortable as you push against the small lever with your entire body weight.

If you can get the mechanism to budge, you could pull the gate open and get out.

Through gritted teeth you repeat a small mantra of “Come on…” as you push to get it moving out of it’s shut position. After a while of trying, your hands keep slipping off the part you’re grasping onto - So in a last ditch attempt, you use your teeth to take off your left glove, in hopes of getting more grip.

A frustrated groan escapes your throat as you try your hardest to push against the necessary part of iron, your shoulder pressing against the gate as you stand sideways. It is roughly the size of your arm, but the way it is resting makes it extremely hard to get a good hold on.

The water under your feet and against your grip causes you to lose your hold on the gate and stumble, slipping forward and barely catching yourself. You wince at the rough feeling of where the iron parts scratched along the palm of your hand.

You kick against the gate in frustration, wondering who would shut it at such a random time. Aggravated and shivering, you grab hold of your horse's reins once more and look around. Your hair has long been completely drenched, water drops running down the strands while your eyes scan the area.

In hopes of meeting the familiar owner, you lead your horse through the rain in a light jog toward Jaspers farm. Standing by the fields, you spot that every window in the house is dark.

“Jasper!?” You call out through the rain as you slowly move along the winding, beaten path and try your best to avoid the roots that are curling along the dirt. The muddy ground is forcing you to pay extra attention to where you walk, as every few steps turn into you nearly losing your footing. “Hello!”

Now near the actual building, you pet your horse's nose and assure them you will be right back, before rushing over to the front door.

The few wooden steps are slippery under your muddy boots as you find yourself right by the door and knock against it with your healthy hand. You wait patiently and try to listen for any sound of movement inside the old house, only to be greeted with silence and the unstopping pitter-patter of rain.

You try once more, only to get the same results - So with a quiet curse leaving your lips, you mentally bid farewell to the small roof sheltering you and rush back to your horse.

If you could not get the gate to budge, you’d have to ride back around toward the Fishing Village and wait for a ferry and go back home from there. The idea of standing on a ferry - In this weather - For the duration of an entire trip makes you groan, but you are running out of ideas. And if the weather worsens, the ferries might not even do their usual routes until it clears.

Once again you stand by the gate with your horse a few steps behind you. You flex your left hand a few times, trying to get the feeling in it back after the cold and rain had numbed it.

Putting your entire weight against the lodged piece of iron once again, you curse your lack of sleep of the night before - You had barely gotten any shut eye between getting home from the doctors and waking up to see Conrad, and you can only imagine how it might be jeopardizing your strength at this moment.

Frustrated with constantly losing your grip, you decide to put your glove around the wet iron, trying to see if it will give you any more leverage, but your grip still is not enough to get the rusted, old mechanism to click out of place.

You shove your dirty, wet glove back into your pocket and keep trying. The water dripping down your face and the way your clothes have become drenched have started to become less noticeable, but it did not stop your entire body from shivering. The shaking of your hands does nothing to aid you, as you slip and feel your hand scratch against the iron over and over again.

As if shot by an arrow, you startle as something enters the corner of your vision.

Your hand flies away from the gate and your balance gets thrown off of its center, causing you to stumble back and knock into something - Which in return, makes you jerk back forward. You go stiff as you watch with wide eyes, glancing to your side without moving your head.

The milliseconds feel longer than they realistically should as you realize what is moving at the side of your head; Someone is reaching past you.

Your face grimaces into a display of utter confusion as the sleeve and glove becomes familiar, but you stay standing stiffly with your left arm near your chest. You know exactly who is looming over your back.

The hand wrapped in dark brown leather grabs a hold of the mechanism and with just a second of what seems like minimal force to the individual, the gate clicks open.

Already, the right side of the gate swings back a bit, scraping across the wet stone.

After hovering by the gate for a second, his hand moves back, leaving you staring straight ahead and unsure if you should turn around.

With a gulp you decide to slowly spin yourself around. Your feet adjust on the cobblestone and your left hand lowers by your side as your body turns clockwise.

The first thing you note is your horse standing close to where you had left them, paying attention to what is going on. With the rain this harsh, it nearly looks foggy in the distance.

The next thing you notice is a second horse standing a few steps behind you and near your own horse. You immediately recognize her thanks to her unmistakable appearance. A knot forms in your stomach as your eyes meet her gaze for a moment, sending a shiver down the length of your spine. You have seen her not even a full day ago, but it is still an eerie sight that makes you feel cemented in place.

And lastly, as you finally turn to face the phantom you had set out to meet, you feel your breath get caught in your throat at the realization that you have not found him, but he found you.

When your eyes land on Thompson, you spot the way he is stepping back from where he had previously leaned past you, his footsteps hidden in the continuous wall of white noise the rain is causing.

Your fear and frustration at your own recklessness is muddled with an odd layer of satisfaction and fascination, leaving your expression nearly unreadable - A clustered mix of intrigue and panic. Eyes flickering back and forth between your own horse, Thompson and his mare as you try to figure out where this would lead.

Standing in the downpour of this autumn afternoon, you can see the signs of wear on the leather of his clothing. Every small line where it had been bent one too many times, the wrinkles of its texture and the way the water is running down along the dark greens and browns, past every seam.

The dull light allows you to see more than the dark, foggy night had during your last encounter - And for a second you wonder if anyone was ever lucky and foolish enough to mentally make note of the fabric the headless horseman is wearing, instead of fleeing to save their life.

An unease rushes through you as you figure that anyone unlucky enough to have gotten close enough to do so, probably never lived past the moment.

But something tells you that, despite the odds of meeting him twice, you would not become the damned character in a brutal folk tale to scare children 10 years from now.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you finally manage to find your words, and despite your best effort, your voice sounds unsure and meek; “Y-you...Why are you…” You pause, looking around. “Here.”

With his own, truly unique way of portraying personality in just body language, Thompson somewhat straightens his torso, which you took as a sign of him having taken in your words.

Nervously and with your jaw clenched, you watch him closely as he moves a hand up - The sudden movement startles you, but you try your best to hide it. The leather of his sleeve crinkles when he angles his elbow and gestures to where you might assume his ear would be.

He had heard you.

Your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape as you give a short noise of surprise that gets drowned out by the rain.

Admittedly, you had yelled a few times, but in no way had you expected anyone to show up...Nevertheless Thompson. You ponder on the possibility of him recognizing your voice, did he know it was you? Was it pure chance all over again?

All the motivation that has driven you to this point is now settling into the base of your chest as a layer of unease, fanning around your lungs and stealing your breath.

You know you should say something, react in some way - But any idea of what to do is whisked away by the bizarre nature of the situation. Similarly to last night, you feel as if you would not die, but the fear of this all having severe repercussions nearly gives you a headache.

Flinching a bit as Thompsons mare moves simply to stretch her neck, you release a shaky breath when you realize that nothing is actually happening. You note how her eyes land back on you after her movements still.

Something that nearly goes unnoticed by you however, is the way Thompsons body turns slightly, as if to look toward whatever you had flinched at.

You watch as the dark mare stands in the rain, her flaming appearance not affected at all by the downpour that is soaking you to the bone. It looks surreal for various reasons, but to see fire move so freely in a harsh rainfall is mesmerizing, nearly.

By this point your shivering is reaching a nearly painful point, it takes a conscious effort to keep your teeth from chattering as you clench your jaw and use your healthy hand to hug yourself, as if your cold arm would somehow gift you warmth.

“Ah..” You trail off awkwardly, glancing at the gate and trying to make this situation seem normal. “Thank you.”

The words leave your mouth in a strained tone, due to the way your jaw is tightly tensed up to avoid the shivers racking your entire body. It forces your muscles to stay rigid and some spasm harshly in response to the cold.

In front of you, Thompsons shoulders move ever so slightly before he raises his right hand to rest on his chest and leans forward a bit - A nod, you figure.

His gloved hand slides down from his chest and comes to rest by his side once more.

As he straightens his torso back out you note how he rolls one of his shoulders. Given the lack of expressions, your eyes automatically are drawn to every small piece of body language he hands you, to try and gauge his mood, feelings or tone.

You wonder how much of his body language is from his actual life and how much had become habit during Thompsons new eternity as a headless phantom. It is intriguing, you admit to yourself, the personality that seems to still be noticeable.

Still, you could not deny how much you feel like a fish out of water. If anyone else is standing opposite of you, you’d have thanked them with a smile, bid farewell, got on your horse and left.

But you are not so sure what is expected of you - So you stay, nearly as if waiting for permission to walk away. Something keeps you rooted in place, a worry that any unwanted movements might irritate the mare or her rider.

Thompson seems to catch on that you are frozen in the current situation and steps aside, motioning for you to walk past with a small gesture of his hand and a slight twist to his upper body. The gesture feels kind and nearly clumsy, it reminds you of how one might get side-tracked and then return to the present with an apologetic, awkward smile.

You wonder if that is the expression he would be giving you, if possible.

Ironically, it is the exact expression you give him as you shuffle past the tall man, holding your cold hand to your stomach and walking over to your horse. Thompsons mare seems unbothered by your presence as you hurry past her large frame, but her eyes never leave you. She is watching you like a hawk and you are painfully aware of it.

It takes every fibre of your being to stay calm and respectful - You are not quite sure why it has been your plan of action, but it has kept you alive and uninjured, so you try your best to keep your cool. With your back now turned to Thompson, you feel as if you’re turning your back to a hungry canine.

Yet, a small voice reminds you that you had already been standing with your back turned to him when he found you. If he wanted you gone, he could’ve done so minutes prior - Or even last night.

The unclear and confusing situation makes your stomach turn. Just like during your last encounter, you cannot help but think of the stories and the whispers.

Exhaling a shuddering, uneven breath, you rest a trembling hand on your horse's neck to greet and reassure them.

Your small gesture is cut short as you pull your hand back with a sharp noise of pain and a grimace. Soon after, the worst of the stinging fades and leaves you with a dull ache.

When your eyes land on your left palm, you’re surprised to see peeled back skin and small amounts of blood begin to pool and drip - The gate hurt your hand worse than you expected, and now that the wound has your attention, the pain is not leaving you be.

Giving a snort through her nose as she watches you pull back in pain, the black mare has clearly noticed your reaction. Your gaze flies over to her for a second, where you see the way she’s still watching your every move closely - Thompson himself is standing by her side, one of his hands resting against her shoulder.

You tear your eyes away from the duo that seems to be haunting you and begin to flex your fingers a bit. Swallowing a wince, you watch as the ripped away skin oozes crimson while your entire hand still shakes from the lack of warmth. The corner of your mouth turns up in disgust and displeasure.

None of Aideens good will is getting your glove back over that, you think to yourself, the loose material will only irritate it worse and you do not want to deal with any small pieces of fluff getting stuck inside the open wound.

With one hand fractured and the other bleeding, it does not take you long to realize your predicament. A pit forms in your stomach as you bite back a groan.

Getting up onto your horse is hard enough with a cast over one arm, but a nasty wound in your only usable hand is just adding more problems. The idea of just carefully leading your horse back home or to the Fishing Village to catch a ferry enters your mind again - Maybe you can call someone to help you? But the idea of sending someone out on a car ride in such risky weather seems irresponsible.

The pain combined with the situation and all your recent bad luck makes tears spring to your eyes for a second, the frustration bubbling over ever so slightly, but you manage to blink them away as soon as you feel them well up. It just really isn’t your week.

As you stand by your horse's side for a moment you hear nothing but the raindrops beating down onto the leaves all around you, as they cling to the twigs with their last remaining integrity.

With your bleeding hand, you carefully reach to pull your right sleeve down over your hand from where it had slipped during your troubles with the gate. The last thing you need is a soaking wet cast - A few water droplets will do no harm, but you are not in the mood to take any more risks than you already are.

It nearly makes you laugh, how in the span of barely 24 hours you had injured both of your hands in different ways. Maybe that is Thompson’s actual way of torturing people; Inconvenience.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth as you nearly feel... Mean. Inconvenience is the furthest from what he had done for you, having helped you with multiple things. Your own thoughts spiral into disbelief at yourself for thinking a bad omen is anything other than inconvenient.

Speaking of the devil, you notice that Thompson is seemingly making no move to leave and his mare is still calmly standing by his side.

Your voice nearly gets drowned out by the rain that is still not letting up, the cold of it clinging to you like a second skin as your muscles, and especially your jaw, ache from the shaking going through your body from head to toe.

“Is...Something the matter?” You question him, throwing the words out into the air between you and wondering what they would bring back.

Visibly Thompson shifts his weight from one leg to the other, his dark boots adjusting on the stone beneath while his hand drops from his mare's side. For a second you fear you disrespected him and feel your soul hang by a thin threat. Thankfully you notice your horse's breath at the side of your face, grounding you.

With no rush and something that you would label as hesitation, Thompson gives you a familiar gesture; An angled index and middle finger pointing toward your right arm.

His gloved hand stays in the gesture for a few seconds until he eventually relaxes it back by his side.

Your brows furrow in return as you glance down to your fractured, healing arm.

“It’s - It’s in a splint, a cast. It needs to rest, but...But it’ll heal.” You try to respond to him the best you can, hoping it is the answer he wants to hear. A tad nervous, unsure and freezing cold, you let your eyes wander between the headless horseman and his mare. Is he checking on your injury?

Once again, much like earlier, Thompson rests one hand on his chest and seems to give a little bow - And much like earlier, you take it as a nod.

Standing tall and foreboding, the black mare paws at the stone and shifts her own weight from hoof to hoof, grabbing her rider's attention - To which Thompson places a gentle hand on her nose and runs his fingers down her fur.

In the most bizarre way, it feels forbidden to watch this exchange. To see Thompson turn to his mare and reassure her, to watch her focus on him, to see their bond so strongly it feels like it is visible in the downpour.

You stand, speechless and in awe, watching a scene in front of you that maybe only few people have ever seen in centuries. The way they act and counter each other's movements and body language reminds you of bonds you’ve seen with other riders, a wordless understanding.

The mare blinks her eyes and you startle as she looks back at you, followed by Thompson turning back toward you. You gulp as you fumble with your horse's reins between the fingers of your broken arm - You’ll make sure to give your horse those extra treats you had promised them yesterday; As a reward for staying so calm during this encounter.

Whenever you looked over to your horse you saw them paying attention, but they luckily are still calm and have not acted out or shown any signs of anxiety. It makes you feel relieved, knowing you might have a relaxed walk home.

But for now, you have to deal with Thompson stepping away from his mare and closer to you.

Averting your eyes, you look over to the gate and past the trees to your side - It has gotten dark fast. It is not night time yet, but the sun is so low on the horizon that the grey, looming clouds won and are stealing most of the golden sunset from view. A few clouds hold subtle, yet magnificent, golden swirls and streaks from the hidden sunlight.

Once you look back to the man in front of you, you gaze over to his mare and back to him, waiting.

Like the little devil on your shoulder, a voice keeps telling you that this is a terrible situation, that it will impact your future in unchangeable ways. It reminds you of every risk you’re facing just by standing here. It pulls at every fear you’re carrying and amplifies it - And you want nothing more than to swat it off of your shoulder and let your horse crush it under their hooves.

Yet, you wonder if that little voice is your common sense trying to keep you from getting cursed or killed.

Thompson stands a few steps in front of you when he raises his left hand ever so slightly, his palm facing you. You nearly assume he is waving at you, before you realize he is more likely -

“Oh,” You begin in an airy tone as you slowly raise your own trembling, bleeding hand. “The gate. My hand slipped a lot and- I guess it ripped through skin.”

You glance over to the culprit; The large iron gate that is still standing half open thanks to Thompsons help. Then, when you look back over to him, you see his shoulders drop. The movement reminds you of a sigh.

Suddenly, you hear slow hoof beats as his mare begins to step closer.

Unable to hide how you startle, you freeze up and accidentally strain your already shaking muscles even more, causing you to grimace in discomfort.

As soon as you do so, Thompson immediately raises both his hands slightly, holding them in a calming gesture. Your wide eyes flicker between him and his mare as you cannot decide if you should be appreciative or appalled that he is telling you to stay calm.

A shaky, uneven sigh escapes you as your shoulders drop in pure loss for words.

Thompson’s mare has just stepped a few steps closer, in no way intruding on your or your horse's space. Maybe there is no real intent, but seeing her step directly toward you causes your heartbeat to spike and hit your throat.

Your fractured arm is loosely resting on your chest as you calm yourself down, taking a deep breath and looking at Thompson once more. For a moment you start to wonder if your own fears will kill you before he ever has the chance to.

At this point you realize that you feel a...Certain warmth that wasn’t there before, and your eyes land back on the intimidating mare to your left. The heat she radiates is starting to become noticeable and you want nothing more than to lean into it, but you know better than to risk that.

So when your eyes meet her gaze, you wonder if she knows.

With an unsure expression you watch Thompson while he moves his hands up to his own chest and begins to fiddle with the golden brooch that is clinging to the green fabric that hangs over his shoulders and collarbones.

After a short second, the brooch on his left is undone and you see the pin of it glimmer in the dim light as he pulls it away from the fabric, allowing it to fan out over the dark leather of his coat.

Your eyes stay focused on his hands and their movements while he holds the brooch in his right hand, you shift your weight slightly, your body still tightly huddled into itself to fight the cold.

It’s only when Thompson wraps the fabric around his left fist that your brows furrow in confusion - And it’s when he yanks his hand down and manages to rip the fabric that you cannot fight the gasp that leaves you.

Right hand flying near your chin as you watch wide eyed and with your lips slightly agape, you stare in shock as Thompson unwraps the green fabric from his gloved hand and steps closer.

You press your lips together tightly as you look over to his mare and back to him and where he holds the green cloth in his hands, involuntarily leaning back in surprise.

Did he just....Rip wet fabric with one hand!?

Any time you have to ponder the physics of that act gets cut short as you see Thompson extend his hand out to you, much like last night.

Trying to fight the tremble in your limbs, you tensely reach out to rest your hand above his, palm facing down. Something inside you wants to avoid making him think you are shaking because of him - But you aren’t sure if it is compassion or pride.

With his gloved one, Thompson carefully grabs your ice cold hand and turns it so the palm is facing upwards. You wince as you see the blood begin to pool more around the ripped skin and slowly drip down to your wrist.

You try your hardest to hold your hand still, to stop the shaking as it rests in the palm of Thompson, but it’s to no avail. Seconds after, you feel the way his left hand comes to rest on top of your own. There is no pressure, not even any real touch, it hovers above your shaking fingers like a feather, as if to calm your trembling

“I’m - I’m cold.” You stutter out while it gets harder and harder to hold your shaking at bay.

A sharp motion goes through Thompsons upper body and his shoulders, reminiscent of someone giving a gasp. The lack of expression in every encounter with Thompson will keep you up and wondering for nights, you just know. It is an enigma you’ll probably never crack, giving you an itch you cannot scratch.

Thompson removes his left hand from above yours and instead carefully places the damp, green fabric over your palm. Immediately, it burns as it comes in contact and irritates the wound, causing you to tense your hand up and grimace with knitted brows.

While you wait for the pain to fade, you note how Thompson is making no move to continue anything, holding still and waiting for you.

It’s only when you relax your hand and release a drawn out breath that he continues to gently fold the fabric over your wound.

You wince a few times and your hand suddenly jerks in random directions, but Thompson manages to tie the fabric around your bleeding palm as you watch his movements closely.

The old, worn leather gloves look rough but yet you barely feel anything from his touch. Only when the side of his gloves brushes along your fingertips do you actually feel the coarse texture of the material, which is not inherently unpleasant against the skin of your hand, but it is more rough than the material of your own gloves.

An involuntary twitch goes through your hand as Thompson tightens the fabric around it, causing him to pause his movements. A second passes before he continues, and soon he switches his grasp on the brooch and uses it to fasten the material around your hand.

The golden brooch weighs somewhat heavy on the back of your hand, but it holds everything in place while the cold, wet fabric feels oddly soothing on the wound. Thompsons hands leave yours entirely as soon as he’s done making sure it won’t slip, hovering by your hand for a second.

With slightly pursed lips and blinking away at a few raindrops that had landed in your eyes, you look at your hand and give a short, quiet scoff; Why is this becoming a pattern? How do you always end up injured when he’s around? If this is with anyone else, you’d probably be cracking jokes about the odd chances of it all.

It takes a moment before you find your voice and the right words to say, but you do speak up; “Thank you.” A pause, a small motion with your left hand. “Again...”

Thompsons hand comes to rest on the center of his chest again, repeating what you have come to recognize as his variant of a nod - So in return you nod your head toward him and his mare.

Taking this as his cue to leave, Thompson steps back toward the dark mare and gently pats her on the side of the neck. The gesture makes you crack a small smile while you watch him get up into the saddle, where he takes a second to adjust his balance.

The mare seems content to have her rider back, similarly to last night you see her entire body language shift. Her hooves hit the stone a few times as she adjusts while you stand and wait under her gaze, nearly convincing yourself that you can see embers float into the air whenever her hoof hits the ground.

Soon after, Thompson uses the slightest motion of his hand to let her turn slightly, leaving her left side to face you. The two of them linger for a moment as you watch them and you swear that if the situation is more ordinary, you’d wish them a safe ride.

Before any more bizarre thoughts can cross your mind, the dark horse takes off and her glowing hooves hit the stone path in a powerful rhythm, leaving you standing in the downpour as you watch the deadly omen disappear between the trees of Golden Hills in a gallop.

You don’t know if you want to sleep or throw up, an odd nervous exhaustion overtaking your entire system as you gently lead your horse towards and through the gate, gently shoving it open with your shoulder.

To get out of the worst of the rain and warm up, you stop by the nearby riding hall - Which is luckily mostly empty. Only two other people are walking around, probably having gotten caught up in the rain and ran inside for shelter - As far as you can see, they don’t have horses with them, either.

You stay for a while, just to wait out the rain as you hear it hit the roof of the hall in the same relentless rhythm. While you wait, you grab some towels, attempting to dry yourself and your tack off the best you could.

Thanks to the riding halls mounting blocks, getting back up onto your horse is also easier and less painful than you had feared. The tightly wrapped fabric worked somewhat like a band-aid with how carefully it had been folded and wrapped. A smooth surface with little room to irritate.

But when one of the two strangers walks close-by to where you are walking some slow rounds with your horse, your right hand immediately flies up to cover the green fabric and golden brooch. The lady does not seem to even pay attention and you sigh in relief.

A new challenge has shown its face; Hiding what exactly is wrapped around your left hand.

If the wrong person caught a glimpse of it and were to recognize it, you can’t imagine what might come from it. For the rest of the way home you make sure that your sleeve is covering not only your right hand, but also your left.

It’s pitch black outside and the rain has faded to a drizzle as you sit by a small desk in your stables. Your horse is dried off, warm and well fed and cared for after your earlier escapades - And luckily no one caught you when you returned to Moorland.

You had taken a nice, warm shower after you got back, trying to chase the cold out of your skin. Hair wet and a towel around your shoulders you relax in the chair, the cushion under you not being luxurious by any means.

With a sigh, you stare down at the object resting in your hand.

The golden brooch has its age clearly shown on its surface and every time you run your finger across it, you feel the patterns beneath the thin layer of what seems like soot and ash.

Your wounded hand is now wrapped in white gauze that you still had in your first aid kit, placed over soothing ointment for the pain and to quicken the healing. The pain of the injury is mostly bearable, but using your hand for anything too complicated makes you wince and grit your teeth each time. But if your estimate is correct, it should not bother you for more than a few days.

Carefully, as if it would break beneath the pressure of your thumb, you keep tracing the lines that are carved into the golden accessory.

With furrowed brows and your head slightly cocked to the side, you lean your body over to the side and reach for a rag that had been hanging on a nearby hook in the wall for a few days now. The wooden chair you’re sitting in creaks under the shifting of weight as the material digs into your side.

The grey rag cleans off any of the remaining dirt and soot as you struggle with a few spots, due to your cast stealing your hands flexibility - But once you remove the rag and look at the brooch in the warm light of the room, you see the way it shines.

Questions that seem way too humane to be directed toward the headless horseman begin to queue in your mind as you fiddle with the brooch; Had he picked it out himself all those centuries ago? Were they gifted to him? Made for him? Stolen?

Laying on the table is also the green fabric, still connected to the brooch as you had pierced the pin back through as to not separate and lose either of the items. The way it is connected and hanging whenever you raised the brooch made you think of an award ribbon, causing you to giggle a bit.

What had you won, you joke in your head, Surviving a meeting with Galloper Thompson twice in a row? In big neon letters.

Your lips purse as you look at the brooch and the fabric attached to it, wondering what tomorrow would bring. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to go out on a ride again so soon after two injuries, something tells you its a lesson learned as your hand still stings.

All the events from the past 24 hours are burned into the forefront of your mind and you huff at the realization that you did, in fact, get your answers about last night.

Something about earlier has not left your mind; The fact that he heard you and seemingly decided to come to where you were. For a moment you wonder if he is just curious to see what you had gotten yourself into this time, or maybe he is truly more of a helpful spirit than a terrible omen that lurks around Golden Hills.

Still, you aren't quite sure if it is better or worse that you saw him again. Had it all not been real, you would at least have been able to rest easy and not have to wrestle with the reckless little voice in your head that wants you to jump in head first. It lures you with the promise of this being a once in a lifetime chance - But your worry is quick to remind you that it might also be a short lifetime if you do not count your blessings and stop while you’re ahead.

A somewhat crooked, small grin stretches across your face as you gently tap the brooch with two fingers, an excuse disguised as an idea entering your mind; You had to bring it back to him, though.

#sso #star stable #galloper thompson #gunnar thrymson #this was NOT meant to become a multiple part story but i geuss we're in it now #yes the research was for the cloak & the brooch. yes it legit took me 90 minutes cause i wanted to get it right.#lila drabbles

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acesaurus · 2 years

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Sorry to be a bother but I just discovered your blog today (and thank the lord that I did because I'm late to this fandom and seriously thought it was dead), what are your bmc headcanons?? I'm just curious djskdk (also sorry for sending this as a post but I'm unable to get a Tumblr account so I can'tsend an ask)

That's all good! I'm not really sure where to start and it's been a little bit since I've rewatched the musical. Gotta get on that. Anyways be prepared for some randomness.

First of all, (I'm most proud of this one) I like to think that Rich is the fashion master of the group. It started with the SQUIP transforming his sense of fashion and trying to get him to become friends with Brooke and Chloe. It didn't work as the SQUIP was hoping, but soon enough Brooke came up to Rich to ask where he got his yellow flannel and suddenly his whole friend group was based on Rich's fashion advice. After the squipcident, the squip squad begin to realize how much they've grown to rely on richs fashion advice and individually continue to ask him advice, not realizing that the squip was mainly in control of that. Nervous and unsure how to reply, Rich gives honest advice and his friends are like ??? But realize its 10x better than the advice he was giving when he had a squip and life is beautiful

I feel like Rich and Jenna are both 100% aware that when you mix Jake and Jeremy's last names you get 'deere' and use that to their full advantage

Book jeremy has a beanie baby squid named squip ironically

(I don't really like the books portrayal of most of the characters as much as I'm obsessed with the musicals depictions of the characters, but I like chloe having dyed red hair because it immediately makes me think of cat from victorious and I have trouble liking musical Chloe sometimes :/)

That being said I'm not a big Chloe fan and don't really ship her with anyone, but I kinda love the idea of her and Madeline having an enemies to lovers kinda thing

I hate how Jake and Chloe have an implied thing after the squip and i don't like it >:(

Jeremys squip began blocking Michael immediately like I like to imagine Michael just hanging out in the back of every song in between dywr and upgrade just vibin

Or more realistically and sadly trying to get jeremys attention in little ways that the squip blocks out

Also I'd like to know how many things the squip can do

Like if it can shock Jeremy and block his optic nerves what else can it do?

If it wanted to could it just kill him?

Sorry this turned into more of a rant ill try to get back on track now

Michael and rich always argue about the inferiority of the xbox

I imagine they had a conversation similar to this:

𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉: 𝐻𝑒𝑦, 𝑀𝑖𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑒𝑙, 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡? 𝐽𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑢𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍: 𝑈𝑚 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒?

𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉: 𝐶𝑜𝑜𝑙. 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑥𝑏𝑜𝑥 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑛? 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐽𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠.

𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍: 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑥𝑏𝑜𝑥?

𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉: 𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒?

𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍: 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡? 𝑁𝑜. 𝑋𝑏𝑜𝑥𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑.

*𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑟�� :𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒*

Brooke has a golden retriever

Not a fan of the Pinkberry ship. I think its weird that Chloe treats Brooke like a dog so much, but it also says a lot about both of their characters just wish they didn't have to be like that you know

Actually thats kinda how I feel about a lot of the show I love all of the characters but I primarily just feel so bad for them

OH Jake is like a master baker... yeah.

He doesn't typically bake but its like his hidden talent (i say that but he probably has many)

Also rich spent sooo much time with his squip compared to Jeremy (depending on the timeline of it all idk if its a spring musical that starts in the beginning of the year for some reason or if it's only like a few months because I always felt like it was spring during voices in my head but thats also just the vibe the music gives me and has nothing to do with anything) so like how has that affected him compared to Jeremy and were their squips different? What made them different? Was roch constantly battling with his squip since he got it freshman year? Or was he friends with it until he began to see what jeremys had done to him? He began to mistrust it? Idk. Also its 100% kermit the frog right?

You know how the squips costume changes to slowly become darker and darker as the musical progresses, I imagine in richs head the squip becomes more and more like evil kermit until all of a sudden it comes out with an evil looking cloak.

Part of me kinda loves book Christine and the other part of me absolutely hates her

I love how kind and passionate musical Christine is though I feel like she would pack an extra lunch for rich because he would never bring one or grab a hot lunch and Christine was like :o dude you need to eat and would always ask him what he wants for lunch the next day

Chloe has really nice parents but was adopted and feels like she doesn't belong so she makes sure that she stands out above every one else

Idk I feel like somethings up with Chloe but I can't put my finger on it

Brooke is ironically 1/8 French

Are these even really headcannons anymore idk

Anyways I've been just saying a bunch of random stuff so I'm gonna stop here

Also btw I based most of this off the broadway version

Sorry this took so long I had to formulate my ideas

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st4rrg1rll · 2 years

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i’m sorry,

i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry,

i don’t know what else to say. i feel like i can only be accountable to an extent and i’m sorry. you don’t have to understand you don’t have to empathize, i’m sorry.

i didn’t have the equipment to treat you like i should have, the capacity, the knowledge. please understand that gentleness and love were not things i was accustomed to then, no parent had done them unto me so i could learn.

i didn’t mean to treat you so badly, i swear i really didn’t, and it kills me to know i might be a villain, to you, now, but i don’t want to over-inflate my presence in your life. i was the villain at one point, though, in my own story, too.

it hurts less to think that you don’t think of me. i hope you have healed, or are healing, i guess no one is ever totally healed of anything. i hope i don’t ever cross your mind and i hope if i do, it’s not painful, and not angry.

i think of you now and again, mostly in memory. do you remember in 5th grade at the spring fling when that girl’s gum landed in your hair and we spent and hour back at my house trying to get it out? i don’t remember if we even succeeded, lol, just that it happened.

i was a bad friend before you even knew i was a bad friend. i’ve done a lot of things that make me feel sick to think about, i betrayed your trust long before i made you feel taken for granted. i was a real attention seeker, and i did look for drama everywhere. i can’t bear to detail the specifics.

but i’m sorry, a million times over, im sorry. when i have money, maybe i will send you some reparations. i’ve thought about writing you for so long, just to apologize. i spent enough time in senior year trying to explain myself rather than empathize and apologize.

i feel so much grief and guilt when i think of you now, you and jenna and sophie. it’s so confusing because somehow i miss you all, too, but yet with no desire to rekindle. i know you all would not want to be friends with me again, anyway.

i realize maybe you think i’m the same. maybe if we met again, you’d perceive me that way, too. it’s for the best that we don’t, but i will say, to me, i have grown. and i can only imagine all of you have, as well, and that we’re all kinder and more understanding people, and probably all much prettier and more content with ourselves than we were in high school.

i don’t think you knew, but my parents divorced in february of senior year, mary left. it was that day that i started healing and getting better. it only took a couple of months for the guilt to set in. im sorry i acted like nothing happened at graduation, but thank you for going with it. i was guilt ridden the entire time, but i couldn’t tell you that.

you were probably happy to never have to see me again, and at the time, i had felt so much pain and confusion and shame because of my those friendships, i was more than happy to never see you again, either, but now i drive around our town on breaks and i see your little green car with the “student driver” sticker pulled off and left as a big black rectangle on your bumper and i think what if we ran into each other again - what would i do?

and i’ve concluded i would probably do what my cowardliness has dictated for the last three years - nothing. do and say nothing, pretend like i didn’t even notice you were there, or pretend like nothing ever happened. and maybe that’s how you prefer for me to keep my contact. i imagine that’s the case, i don’t think you want to hear from me. i would not want to hear from me. i would want peace, and solace, so i’m committed to leaving you alone so you may have those. we do not need closure here. you are a strong woman, i can’t imagine it took all that much to get over me. i was really a piece of shit, it was probably easy.

#antonia #ex best friend #lana #personal #journal #unsent letters

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wehatejulietsimms · 3 years

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A/N: i'm gonna respond to this in sections bc it's quite long so bare with me.

Howdy y’all, 🤠 again. Yes, I didn’t in fact die. I’m sorry though that I kept getting sidetracked and couldn’t submit this until now, my boss decided to keep dumping her work into my lap. So I just wanna preface this by stating that I’m going to try and say what I want to as coherent as possible, but I have pretty severe ADHD so I’m not always as easy to understand as I think I am in my head, and I often go off on tangents, over explain things and circle back to topics randomly without realizing. Im basically going to go over their relationship over the years as I said previously (I’m not gonna go into detail about every single scandal and shitty thing Juliet did over the years, because we’d be here all year. so I figure I won’t cover them here, but rather let people ask specific questions if they want to. Remember, I was present for pretty much everything so feel free to ask.😊), but I’m also going to do kind of a mini deep dive into Andy’s behavior and actions (because although the snakes will hit you with every excuse in the book, and tell you that you’re looking too far into things and that it doesn’t matter, it does. The way a person acts in general and towards people around them is very relevant when talking about someone’s health, happiness, and well-being.) To start off, let’s take it all the way back to the time before Juliet’s reign of terror, when Andy and Scout were still together. In all honesty from what I saw of them together (and I saw pretty much everything they posted, I’m only a year younger than Andy, and I was quite into him when he was on MySpace and such, and I always watched anything with him and Scout together because they were fucking adorable lol) they had a really healthy relationship. Not once did I get weird vibes from them. The way Andy acted toward and with Scout, you could tell they really loved each other and were happy together. They had nothing to prove. It just was normal. (For any of you who are younger, or didn’t come into the picture until Andy was already post-scout and would like to see some videos of them together, you could generally search on YouTube for it, but also there’s a specific channel on there called like bring the milk tea or something that has videos of old Andy blogs and also Andy and scout on stickam and such. Worth a look if you’re curious) They weren’t constantly all over each other like possessive pack dogs *ahem Juliet ahem* and whenever Andy mentioned scout he didn’t need to shower her in compliments. They both seemed very secure in both themselves and the relationship. Super cute. Initially when they broke up it seemed quite odd. I didn’t really expect it. It got even weirder when he states that he and Juliet are together. It didn’t feel like they fit together at all (and no I’m not talking about from a fame or success perspective. At least not yet lol) As I’ve said I got bad vibes from Juliet right from the get go. Andy already seemed to be acting not like himself. (Also snakeys have argued that it’s just that he’s more mature now and that’s why he acts nervous and constantly looks Ike he wants to die. 🙄 maturity doesn’t mean losing your fucking personality and being unhappy most of the time. Jesus Christ.) it seemed like they got possessive of each other and constantly needed to show people how in love they were. Pictures, videos, and fucking public love paragraphs to show they are, in fact, in a super real relationship and they love each other. It also felt like Andy’s family was in on this whole weird charade.They (Chris honestly) started to defend her degenerate behavior and attack anyone who had even a whisper of negative things to say about her or their relationship. It was like watching a group of awkward, pretty mediocre actors put on a play about them being together. (I’ve hit the text limit now, but there will be more that I will write just after I submit this one though, fear not haha. N, you can either post this now or wait until I submit the rest, it’s up to you.) 1 / ? -🤠

A/N: i was here for a lot of it as well so i do remember some of this. although i did join the fandom shortly after him and juliet got together (i joined like around the time she was on the voice) i literally remember hoping that him and scout would get back together bc juliet just rubbed me the wrong way and i didn't know why at the time. & side note i actually do recommend people go look at old videos of andy and scout they were really adorable. there is this one video of them singing (i think a carrie underwood song lol) in the car and it's really cute. but yeah just bc he's older doesn't mean his whole entire personality changes. you can be any age and act however you want. i could even use jenna marbles & julien solomita (a youtube couple) as an example, they've been together for i think like 8 or 9 years and are about the same age as A&J (julien being around andy's age & jenna around juliet's age) & although they can have mature adult conversations and all of that, they still act like idiots and joke around together. neither of them look uncomfortable or are afraid of saying certain things like andy is around juliet. so andy aging doesn't mean shit in regards to his personality doing a 180.

🤠okay, so part two here we go. (Also I apologize if I get the chronological order of anything I talk about incorrect, I’m a bit scattered sometimes and the next ask I make will be the one where I talk about the domestic abuse and I tend to get quite heated, which only makes my brain function worse lol) so the point at which Andy was trying to get fans to go vote for/ support Juliet when she was on the voice seemed really fishy. I’m all for supporting the work of the people you love, but it’s kinda strange how hard Andy was pushing this at the time. Too hard in my opinion. I’m obviously aware that it was helpful in the end and he more or less got what he was asking for. But it was like he absolutely needed people to vote for her. As if he would get in trouble if they didn’t. So around 2012 or 2013 it felt like things really went down the shitter from there and just got progressively worse. (I never knew why for the longest time, but after they revealed that Vegas wedding that happened in about that time frame, it made a lot of sense.) Andy’s behavior began to change towards his fans. There are a lot of accounts of this happening from fans themselves and a lot of people said that 1. It was worse with Juliet around, and 2. a lot of the time it would happen towards females especially. ( I think more towards the “pretty” fans but don’t count me on that, I don’t know for sure.) This was completely night and day. Especially coming from the same man who used to always defend his fans and once stated something along the lines of he would never have a crazy or awkward fan story because he loves and is grateful for all of his fans and he won’t get upset if they’re just really excited. I would understand if these fans crossed the line in some way (like the later incident of fans finding his address and harassing them, which is unacceptable no matter who the people are) but from most if not all of the fan stories I’ve heard, they didn’t. They were being respectful and didn’t do anything to warrant this happening to them besides showing up. Which brings me to my next point, a lot of these negative experiences were caused by Juliet. Either she was the one being mean to people, she was causing Andy to be mean to people on her behalf, or her presence was upsetting Andy to the point that he was angry and started being rude and irritable. What scares me the most are the accounts of Andy having a whole Jekyll and Hyde thing, depending on weather or not Juliet was present. Happy when he’s free of her and miserable when he isn’t. In videos of him where Juliet is behind the camera he always seems nervous and strange. Like he’s afraid to mess up. That’s fucking alarming to say the least. You would think that the last thing one would want to do if another person brings them this much anger, stress, and anxiety, the LAST thing they would want to do is fucking marry them. Right? He literally started barely smiling at one point and really doesn’t anymore. I mean for Christ’s sake look at his wedding photos. What’s suppose to be one of the happiest moments of your life and to quote another anon with a different ask, he looks like he’s being dragged to the gallows. (And I get really fucking Angry honestly when snakeys tries to pass it off as “oh he’s awkward he doesn’t know how to smile” or “omg he’s being dramatic for the aesthetics” in some pictures, yes. But why the fuck would you look like that in pictures with the “love of your life” who you now regularly write cringy paragraphs publicly professing your love and complete adoration for? Andy knows how to smile genuinely. Ffs he used to. He smiled genuinely when he was a kid, he smiled genuinely with scout, and he smiled genuinely when Juliet wasn’t around. He doesn’t smile when she is there, and if he does, it is pretty much always visibly fake.) So I may backtrack a little later, but right now I want to talk about the fact that Juliet IS an abuser. More specifically, the plane incident. (Word limit. TBC.) 2 / ? -🤠

A/N: yes. 100%. when it comes to the wedding photos i will never understand people (specifically snakeys) writing off his behavior as him "just being dramatic for the aesthetics". is that something he would do in photoshoots? yeah. is it something he may do on stage? sure. something he would do in an interview? maybe. but candid shots of him on one of the "happiest days of his life"? wtf no. & idk why people think that.

🤠 Just before I start, again, with the pictures, I really don’t think that Andy is enough of a self absorbed egotistical dick that he would actually sit there and put on the whole “miserable tough guy” act in every fucking photo he takes. Ah yes, the infamous plane incident. So straight up, Juliet exposed herself as an abuser, and brought out every bullshit excuse in the book (and made Andy go along with them) to try to cover it up. 1. She was drunk. Honestly this is total bullshit. I say this same thing when people defend cheating or any other degenerate behavior with the excuse of intoxication and I will say it now. Being drunk does not make you a different fucking person. It does not change the thoughts in your head. What it does do is impair your ability to make decisions and judgement skills in general. It’s the same reason why people drive drunk. It’s routine. Its what they would normally do. And because they’re drunk, they can’t see any reason why they shouldn’t do that. Juliet gets drunk, she and Andy fight, she wants to hit him, and because she’s drunk she doesn’t think that she shouldn’t fucking put her hands on him. 2. She hit him in “self defense” and he broke her ribs.(There’s several points I have debunking this) first of all let’s get this out of the way, no one on that plane (including the very real witness who just so happened to be an adult film actress (I think?) who you so love to discount because of it) saw him strike her or even touch her at any time. Two, you are in fucking airplane seats sitting right the fuck next to each other with an armrest in between. It would be pretty fucking hard to break your ribs unless they were made of actual glass, or Andy’s real name is Bruce fucking banner. Bones are surprisingly strong and I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it’d be damn near impossible for him to do that to you, which brings me to three, if he had broken your ribs you would not be fucking standing up, thrashing around, whining like a little bitch, and oh by the way, continuing to abuse your husband for the second time on that flight. Four, you had a miscarriage. (When I was trying to conceive with my husband it was very difficult. I had two miscarriages before I finally had my son. I’m fully aware of how devastating having one is.) which is why if you are not lying (which I fully believe that Juliet would stoop that low just to get sympathy, especially with this big of a scandal. But I don’t actually have proof of this so I will say that it is just speculation on my part) I don’t fucking care. I am not unsympathetic to her if this did actually happen as I said, however, You do not get to make any excuse for putting your hands on another person out of anger. Ever. I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what kind of stress you are under, I don’t care if you are inebriated in any way and I sure as hell don’t care what the fuck you have between your legs. You do not hurt anyone. Point blank period. Five. You are a woman, you can’t hurt him. This one, actually enrages me. We all know your crusty ass pulled this one out (and threw around trump supporters a few times for good measure) because you know damn well how society and the media views and deals with abusive women. Women can abuse. Women who are shorter or weaker than their target can abuse. The fact that there are people who either don’t know that or don’t agree with that is absolutely baffling. Six. The same (I believe) porn actress. Literally saw you beating your own face with the restraints you had to be put in (which by the way flight attendants only ever use restraints as an absolute last resort when someone becomes a danger to the others on board, so she had to be acting absolutely deranged) to give yourself a bloody nose to claim Andy hit you. Then you proceed to act like a child and tell Andy to call your fucking dad. (Which kinda proves that whole Scientology thing honestly) what in the hell. I stg as long as I am breathing I will never let this go. This is actual fucking domestic abuse. (Word limit TBC.) 3 / ? -🤠

A/N: yeah her hitting him "bc she was drunk" was never a good excuse not only for the reasons you mentioned but, also bc let's be real at no point are you ever going to get served enough alcohol on a plane to make you that drunk i don't care what anyone says. also when it comes to the excuse of him "breaking her ribs" does she forget that andy actually did break his ribs a while ago? i think she even visited him when he was recovering so she should know what kind of pain he was in. & if he actually broke her ribs, there's no way she would have even been able to stand bc i know andy sure wasn't able to. he said it was one of the most painful things he's experienced. (i don't think i need to comment on the rest of this. it would just be redundant. you hit the nail on the head with that.)

🤠 I don’t care if it happened just that one time ore more likely is an everyday occurrence. Abuse is abuse and should never be tolerated. Kind of getting away from the plane thing. Andy always seems, as it’s been said on here before, afraid to mess up. Like he might mess up, and make her mad. A common behavioral pattern in abuse victims. He also at this point and for a decent amount of time before, doesn’t seem like he loves her anymore. Like he keeps up appearances and pretends, but it’s like it’s a job he’s forced to do. He’s tired and burnt out but was probably manipulated into staying and juliet is probably clinging for dear life. Also I don’t know if I’m the only one who thinks this, but I swear, the veganism and sobering up was just a cover up, most likely formed by either Juliet herself or her fucked up family, after the plane incident to hide their tracks and regain some public favor (because you know, if you advocate for animal rights then you can’t abuse your husband 🙃) Andy never gave a shit before though. Even though it was unhealthy he loved to drink and smoke and was very outspoken about that. And he used to never give a fuck about eating meat or consuming animal products like leather. I mean they’re still selling leather goods ffs. I would get having minor fuck ups because you don’t know any better, but it’s fucking leather. And now Andy is unhealthy and miserable as ever, but the culprit is malnourishment and Juliet rather than cigs, alcohol, and Juliet. My final thoughts: I do definitely believe in the Scientology theory, but if not that than I definitely believe that Andy was and is being manipulated for his fame. On several occasions it really looked like they broke up, including the time when they did, and then said it was a joke. It really doesn’t feel normal. Also, Juliet doesn’t really care about Andy that much. She never wears her wedding ring, she sells all their shit, including sentimental items, and now that she’s gained more popularity from being with him, suddenly doesn’t want to put him in her bio or write him the same creepy ass paragraphs or anything. It’s fucked up how shes so keen to say she did it all herself when really she’s been riding dick for fame since before she even met Andy. It also always kinda seemed to me that Amy was kind of uncomfortable around Juliet. We all know that Chris loves to kiss her ass night and day (most likely to do with the Scientology thing “if” it’s true), but Juliet and Amy always seemed to have a weird relationship like it was tense and forced. Also I just want to mention the time that Juliet talked about screaming at the woman over what I believe was a game night and brushed it off as being competitive and no one gave damn. Fucked up. To finish off this already way too long little series, I think Andy is a very vulnerable insecure person who got manipulated by several people (not just Juliet) some of whom he probably really trusted, and they helped to get him in Juliet’s (equally if not more insecure) hands so she could hurt him as she pleases. I truly hope that even now both he, and his parents (even though Chris really grinds my gears) can get out of this whole shit show, relatively unscathed. I know this is probably pretty unlikely, but hope springs eternal I guess. As I said feel free to ask any questions you may have and I will try to answer them best I can. Thank you for reading. 4 / 4 -🤠

A/N: yet again you hit the nail on the head with this part so i don't need to comment too much. other than the fact that i do agree that juliet and amy's relationship does seem weird.

#submission #anonymous

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honey-andtea1889 · 4 years

Text

Battered and Bruised

AN: Hello! This is my very first Spencer Reid blurb! I’m super excited to write this and I seriously hope you all enjoy it! My requests are open and ready for business, please don’t be afraid to ask! Xx

Summary: The BAU team gets called on a case in Omaha, Nebraska for kidnaps and murders of women around the city. When Y/N get taken, Spencer goes to the ends of his being to find her.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, death, mention of rape, shit ton of fluff

Song: Battered and Bruised by Circa Waves

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Mornings weren’t Y/N’s strong suit. Especially when it included waking up at 5:30 am because your boss calls you in on a case. She knew it was a serious case just because of the time and after the last case the team had finished, she knew she couldn’t be too upset.

Y/N loved her job at the BAU. It was pretty much her who reason for living. She absolutely loved helping people and putting away criminals that don’t deserve any more than a kick of dust. Just the feeling of saving someone’s life made the job worth it. She always put her heart fully into every case that came up, making sure that every person that was found was safe and every bastard that would cause the victims pain would get every ounce of punishment they had coming to them. Y/N couldn’t think of doing anything else.

Her team made it even better. She got along with everyone. They were all so welcoming when she first joined the FBI, Y/N felt that these people, this wonderful team, was her family.

Y/N soon made it to the BAU and went straight into the break room for some coffee. She ran into a very groggy, barely woken Derek Morgan. He smiled at her, sipping his morning brew.

“Good Morning, Princess. How was your nap?” Derek asked as he chuckled.

“About as good as it can get. Can’t believe we got called back in so quickly. Did Hotch tell you anything about today’s case?” Y/N asked.

Derek shook his head. As far as they knew, no one was told about the case. Hotch had just called everyone in saying that it was an emergency. The two were soon joined by none other than David Rossi. He smiled as he made himself a cup of coffee, sighing at the time.

“One of these days, I’m just not going to answer my phone.” Rossi grumbled.

The three of them laughed. Derek and Rossi made their way to the briefing room while Y/N fixed herself another cup of coffee. A loud groan echoed through the hall, and you knew who that belonged to. Dr. Spencer Reid came into sight as he trudged over to the coffee machine, smiling a tired smile at Y/N.

Spencer and Y/N had a weird relationship. It was evident that the two of them had feelings for one another, but neither of them acknowledged them. There were times where Y/N wished she had the courage to just walk up to Spencer and ask him out, but she could never convince herself to do it. Spencer was the same way. He thought she was so beautiful and smart. He felt so comfortable around her and just being in the same room as her was a gift in itself, he just didn't know how to ask without making a fool of himself. Everyone on the team could feel the romantic tension between the pair and it killed them. Spencer couldn’t could how many times Derek had mentioned it to him that he should ‘make a move before someone else does.’

“Whoever allowed anything to be done before 11:30 in the morning is psychotic.” Spencer grumbled, pouring coffee into a mug.

“I hear ya, but Hotch sounded pretty serious on the phone. We should probably get up there.” Y/N sighed.

The two made it into the briefing room, Penelope setting everything up for the team. Spencer took a seat next to Y/N, smiling at her as he took his first coffee sip of the day. Prentiss, JJ, and Hotch soon flew into the room as Penelope began explaining the case.

“Three women were found dead in ditches all around Omaha, Nebraska. Jenna Lender, 25, was our latest victim. She was last seen yesterday morning, getting coffee for her boss. Jenna’s boss tried calling her after noticing she was gone longer than she needed to be but got nothing.” Penelope said as she clicked through the presentation.

“How long did the unsub keep the other victims alive?” Emily asked.

“That’s the thing, all of the girls were only alive for a day. once he was finished with one, the unsub would spend a week hunting for a new woman.” Hotch says.

“He stays in the same area, he’s got a comfort zone.” Spencer said, eyeing the file in front of him.

“He obviously doesn’t have a type, the women are all different. The only thing that is connecting them is their age.” Y/N said.

“And their jobs. All of the girls worked at the same company just different departments. It looks like the building is downtown, did they know each other?” JJ asked.

“No, its a huge company. Jenna worked on the 23rd floor in Accounting, Sierra on the 12th floor in Marketing, and Marie on the 33rd as an assistant to the CEO.” Penelope said as she clicked on her tablet.

“Are we looking at the CEO of this company? Maybe he’s got something to do with it?” Derek questioned.

“No, he’s got a trustful alibi.”

“Whoever it is, we need to find him before he kills again. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said, gathering the files to head out to the jet.

The team gathered their things and boarded the plane. Everyone was slowly dozing off in their seats while Y/N and Spencer stayed up and talked about the little things. They did this every so often. Whenever they had a long trip, the pair would sit closer to the back and just talk. They never had a set conversation, the topic was always changing. Y/N loved that.

“No way, you can’t possibly think that Stephan King outranks Edgar Allan Poe.” Spencer laughed.

Y/N shrugged and smiled at the genius to her right.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Edgar, but something about King’s writing just hits a little on the different side.” She said as she sipped on her coffee.

Spencer studied Y/N. He took in her features, her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, her gorgeous smile, intoxicating laugh. He became so enthralled by her beauty, he didn’t realize that the plane had landed and the team were departing the aircraft. Y/N noticed his staring and blushed. Now wasn't the time to flirt though. They had a job to do.

“Alright, Prentiss and Morgan, I want you two at the first crime scene. Look for any details that were missed. Rossi, you and I will go to the second crime scene. JJ, talk to the families of the girls. We need to know if there was anything linking them. Reid and Y/N, go to the latest crime scene and gather as much evidence as possible. You both are then to go to the police station and set up. We’ll meet there in about two hours.” Hotch explained.

Everyone broke off into their respected groups. Y/N and Spencer quickly arrived to the recent crime scene, the body still laying in the position it was found.

“FBI?” A detective asked.

“Yeah, this is SSA Y/L/N and I’m Dr. Reid. Is this how the body was found?” Spencer quizzed at the detective.

The man nodded and led the two over to the body on the ground. Y/N looked at the woman to see if there was any form of self defense wounds on her. Spencer was taking note of the area in which the body was found. It was just outside of town, the woods just a few miles away from the dump sight. Spencer was about to look around until Y/N called him over.

“Take a look at this.” She said, moving the arm of the woman.

The two saw marks around her wrists, showing that the woman was tied up when she was captured. As the looked even closer, the agents could see the body had bruises all along her neck, hips, and thighs.

“This woman was raped, Spence.” Y/N said disappointedly.

Spencer sighed. This case was not going to be an easy one. The two headed back to the station to set up the search. Spencer could see that Y/N was a bit off since they left the crime scene. Morgan and Prentiss came into the room, they were almost out of breath as the entered.

“Marie Thomas was raped.” Prentiss explained.

“So was Jenna.” Y/N stated, pinning up a photo of her lifeless body.

“So he stalks them for a week, kidnaps them, rapes them, then dumps their dead bodies in ditches.” Derek said as he flopped onto a chair.

“None of the girls had enemies at work, they all got along with their coworkers and mostly kept to themselves.” JJ said as she walked in.

“So what sick bastard is taking these women?” Emily questioned.

Hotch and Rossi soon joined the rest of the team, both looking more on edge than everyone else.

“Guys? Are you okay?” Y/N asked.

“Something isn’t sitting right.” Rossi sighed.

Hotch walked over to the board as Spencer explained how he wanted the people of Omaha to see that he means business. Y/N became uncomfortable with the topic and decided to stand outside to get some fresh air, clearing her mind from all of the horrifying information she had taken in. Derek came to check up on her almost immediately after she left.

“You okay mamas?” He asked.

Y/N chuckled at the nickname.

“Honestly? No. These poor women were just living their lives and then this happens to them.” She explains, her heart sinking at the thought.

“Look, Y/N, I know this is hard, but we have to keep our heads up. We’ll catch this sick son of a bitch, no matter the cost.” He said.

“Derek, we don't have a lead. We can’t even connect the girls to each other besides the fact that they’re all the same age and work in the same building. To me, it almost seems like a revenge story.”

Y/N’s head picks up after she said that. What if it was a revenge plot? What if the unsub was hurt by an ex or embarrassed by a coworker of the opposite sex and it just trying to get payback?

Derek looked at Y/N curiously. She bolted back into the station and ran into the conference room where the rest of the team was.

“This is a revenge spree.” Y/N said.

The team looked at each other, confusion taking over the room. Y/N walked over to the board and began explaining her theory.

“All three women worked at prestigious jobs, all three women were young, they were successful. Maybe this guy was ridiculed by someone like them, a girlfriend, coworker, boss, whatever. He is most likely killing them because he’s intimidated by them.” She said.

“That explains the connection. But what about the geographical profile? What the significance of the ditches around the city?” Rossi asked.

“He obviously wants them seen but not immediately. He’s almost trying put on a show for people, saying that he’s superior.” Spencer adds, looking over the photos.

“It adds up but what about the rapes? He just does it because he can?” JJ asks.

“No, he’s asserting dominance to these women. Showing them that he’s in charge.” Hotch said.

“Gather all your officers up Detective. We have a profile.”

About 15 minutes later, Omaha Police Officers and Detectives were surrounding the FBI agents as they gave the profile.

“The man we’re looking for is in his late 20′s-early 30′s. He socially awkward and intimidated by women of higher class.” Hotch starts.

“He won’t approach anyone first. He would be someone that keeps to himself at work unless his boss came up to him.” Emily said as she looks around the room.

“Over the years he’s been humiliated by women of authority, this could be a boss, higher up coworker, a girlfriend even. He has been taking this for years and has had enough.” Y/N said.

“He’s definitely the odd one out, he doesn’t look like he could do something as gruesome as this. Think of like a nerdy kid in high school.” Rossi explained.

“He’s trying to assert his dominance. He’s been submissive almost his whole life, he’s trying to show that he’s the one whose in charge by not only kidnapping, but raping the victims before he kills them.” Derek said as he sat in front of the group.

“He’s on the hunt right now. He could be anywhere around the city so be on the look out.” Spencer said.

“We’ve already made sure that everyone never leaves a location alone and that a city wide curfew has been set.” JJ says, crossing her arms.

“This man is very dangerous, stay alert and stay safe.” Hotch said, ending the briefing.

Y/N exhaled and decided to take a breather. She walked outside and took a deep breath. The case was starting to get to her. It could also be the lack of sleep she had.

Y/N turned to go back inside, until she felt a sharp pain coursing on her head and the world went black.

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After a few hours, Spencer had noticed Y/N missing and started looking for her. He looked around the station and even went downtown to see if she was at some coffee shop. He called her phone, only to be answered by her voicemail. Somethings wrong Spencer thought. He quickly went back to the station, panic taking over his mind.

“Hey, Y/N isn't answer her phone and I can’t find her anywhere.” Spencer said frantically as he entered into the conference room.

The team looked around at each other, trying to figure out where she could’ve gone. It was normal for Y/N to wonder off during a case but not for longer than a half hour. The team knew that sometimes, some cases can be a little much for her so she steps away to take a minute to gather herself. Spencer would always go to make sure that she was okay, comforting her whenever she became overwhelmed with any case they were working on.

“Oh god..what if..” Emily started.

“Our unsub has her.” Hotch said grabbing her phone and dialing Penelope’s phone number.

“Hello my sweet, beautiful, darlings. How might I be of assistance.” Penelope sang through the small phone.

“Garcia, Y/N has been taken. We need you to run a search on her phone to see where she could possibly be.” Rossi said.

“Oh my god, no.” She said, sadness and worry taking over her demeanor.

“It’s gonna be okay baby girl. We’re gonna find her, right now we need you to get that search started.” Derek cooed.

Spencer was standing in the back, watching everything unfold.

How could he let this happen? Usually he would check up on her but today, he was so wrapped up in the case that he didn’t even bother to make sure she was okay. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t over stressed, especially with cases like this one. This was all his fault. He should’ve gone with her. His guilt began to eat at him, anxiety gnawing at him like a dog on a bone.

“Spence? You okay?” Emily asked.

“This is all my fault..” He whispered.

“Spencer, you couldn’t have done anything to stop this. We’re dealing with a violently aggressive man-”

“I check on her when cases become too much. I make sure that she’s okay. I’m always there for her and this time, I wasn’t. I wasn’t able to protect her from this maniac out there. And because of that, I’m losing the love of my life...again.” Spencer snaps.

Emily looks at the sad Doctor with empathy. She rubs his back for just a moment and returns to the rest of the team, leaving Spencer on his own.

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Y/N groaned as she picked her head up, the weight being ridiculously heavy. She took in her surroundings, seeing only a dark room with a single light bulb above her. She tried to move but her hands and feet were tied together on a chair. Well this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day, she thought. Y/N soon heard a loud slam come from down the hall. Footsteps were soon followed, dragging along the concrete floor.

“Well. Aren’t you a pretty one.” A man with a deep voice seethed, slowly making his way over to the light.

Y/N could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. To say she was terrified was a huge understatement.

“What do you want from me? I wasn’t the one who hurt you.” Y/N said, trying to sound as brave as she could.

“No, but you’re like her.” The man yelled as he slapped her cheek.

“What do you gain from this? Huh? Some sick form of pleasure?” Y/N screamed as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

The unsub punched her in her face. Y/N could feel a bruise forming under her eye as she panted. Y/N was a strong girl, and she wasn’t going to give up that easily but she definitely couldn’t hold on forever.

She hoped the team would save her soon.

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

“Okay so by the looks of it, her phone was up and active until she got closer to the forest. That’s where the trail runs cold.” Garcia says, clicking away on her many computers.

“Detective, is there any abandoned houses or barns out that way?” Hotch asked.

“There’s actually an old barn just passed town. It’s deep in the woods though. Kinda hard to see at night.” The Detective said.

“Well we can’t wait until morning, she’ll be dead by then, so if you could tell us what the coordinates are, that’ d be great.” Spencer hissed.

“Reid.” Hotch said sternly.

“No Hotch, if we wait any longer Y/N will be dead. She’s part of the time and a huge part of my life. I can’t just wait around until it’s convenient for everyone!” Spencer yelled.

The team looked at Spencer in surprise. Hotch signaling to Derek to get Spencer to calm down before he’s removed from the case.

“Kid, I know you care about this girl, but you need to keep your cool.” Derek said, pulling Spencer to the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry, Morgan. I just want her to be alive.” Spencer said, his voice wavering.

“I know. We’ll get your girl back.” Derek promised.

Spencer nodded and hugged his friend.

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

“Only a few hours left gorgeous, better get some rest before I destroy you.” The man said.

Y/N was beaten beyond belief. She felt as though she’d been to hell and couldn’t recover. Her vision was hazy, she could tell she had a huge concussion. Her lip was bleeding and by the throbbing of her eye, she knew there was going to be some bruising. Her body ached from being beaten in a chair. She could barely keep her eyes open.

Her thoughts went to Spencer. She thought about ever seeing him again, about ever being able to tell him that she loved him. She wanted to finally express her feelings to him, but probably won’t ever get the chance now. Her swollen eyes began to fill with tears as her heart breaks.

It’s not long until the man come back and beats her again. Constantly throwing fists at her face.

“How does it feel to be less than nothing, you bitch.” He whispered.

“Go to hell.” Y/N seethed.

With that, Y/N spit some of the blood from her lip at the unsub. He yelled and slapped her across the face. As he was going in for a punch, Y/N hear footsteps outside, Her heart beat picked up, knowing her team finally came to her rescue.

“You think you’re all big and bad because you kill and rape women? hah, I’ve seen bugs better than you.” Y/N spat.

It was that moment where a click of a gun rang throughout the barn and Hotch’s voice rang through Y/N’s ears.

“Put your hands where I can see them.” He said sternly.

The unsub grabbed a knife and pulled it to Y/N’s throat.

“If I die, she dies with me.” He said.

Spencer locked his gun and pointed to the unsub. He could see the terror and shame in Y/N’s eyes as his fingers landed on the trigger. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe, and after this, he was going to make sure you weren’t in harms way.

“Sir, just let the girl go.” Hotch tried reasoning.

“Why? So she could go tell scrawny over there to work harder? So she could torment him just like I was?”

The unsub looked over to Spencer.

“You know she screams your name, right?” he said.

“She screamed it while I was beating her to a pulp. Guess you could say she-”

A gunshot was fired. The man’s body flopped to the floor as Y/N hyperventilated. Spencer ran over to her, untying ever blasted knot that was harming her precious skin. Once she was released, Y/N flopped down on top of Spencer, holding him as tightly as she could.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.” he whispered.

“I was so scared Spence. I thought he was going to-”

Spencer cut Y/N off.

“I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you, Y/N. I care about you way too much to let someone manhandle you like that.” Spencer said lovingly.

Y/N pulled away from him and crashed her lips onto his.

The kiss was delicate, yet full of passion. The pair kissed for just a few moments before they pulled away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while, just couldn’t find the right time.” Y/N said, softly smiling at the cheesing Doctor.

“Well I’m glad you finally did. Come on, let’s get you home.” Spencer smiled.

Both agents stood up from the ground and made their way outside of the barn. Y/N was looked at for her injuries and soon after, the team made their way back home.

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

“Don’t worry about the reports just yet, guys. Go home and get some rest.” Hotch said as they entered the BAU. Everyone cheered as they all made their ways to their designated cars.

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can I please stay with you? I don’t know if I could stay there by myself tonight.” Y/N blushed.

Spencer smiled and pulled Y/N into his chest. Y/N snuggled in tightly, feeling the warm embrace of the Doctor who saved her.

“Of course you can stay, do you want to run back to your place and get some clothes?” Spencer asked.

Y/N nodded as they headed to his car. The drive back to Y/N’s apartment was silent, but a comfortable silent. The two held each other’s hand tightly, afraid of letting the other person go. They pulled into the parking lot and made their way upstairs. Y/N unlocked her apartment and quickly slid inside, allowing Spencer access to her home. Y/N quickly ran back to her room, gathering some clothes and her tooth brush so she could stay over at Spencer’s.

As she exited her room, Spencer was sat on her kitchen counter, looking through a small cookbook her mother had given her.

“These snickerdoodles sound really good, do you mind if we bring this and make cookies tomorrow?” Spencer asked.

“Sure.”

Spencer smiled and took Y/N’s hand, leading her back to the car. The drive to Spencer’s apartment wasn't too far from hers. The two quickly made it up the stairs and into the apartment.

Spencer’s place was cozy. With the many books on the book shelf, it made Y/N’s heart fill with joy. A yawn passed Y/N’s lips.

“You wanna go to sleep, darling?” Spencer asked, placing a hand on her back.

Y/N nodded. Spencer lead her to his room. They both began to get ready for bed when Y/N spoke up.

“Can I wear one of your shirts to sleep?”

“Of course, here.” Spencer said, handing Y/N a black crewneck sweater.

Y/N threw it on and climbed into bed. Spencer follow shortly after, snuggling close to Y/N as possible. She rested her head on his chest and sighed. Spencer kissed her head sweetly whispering:

“I love you.”

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