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barnesafterglow · 3 years

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all you need (5)

summary: just after finishing college and your first novel, you meet bucky barnes - a friend of a friend, a publisher, and hopefully something more

pairing: publisher!bucky x author!reader

word count: 3.8k

chapter warnings: explicit language, me still having no idea how the publishing industry works, lot of book talks, lots of feels, an appearance of miss sharon carter and also everyone's fav himbo, a disgusting about of flirting and fluff, smut!! (MINORS DNI), drinking, all's well that ends well, roll credits

a/n: hi :) i'm back :) i know it's been a few weeks but this break definitely helped me because i flew threw this chapter in not even a full day and i just. love it so much. thank you to all for giving me the time i needed and the kind/encouraging words made me so so happy. i hope this was worth the wait. enjoy xoxo

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The rest of Saturday was spent in more meetings with pretty much everyone at the publishing house, doing a first run through the edits Bruce was making, and an extraordinary amount of champagne for a working office.

And it was the most fun you had ever had.

By the time you made it back to Bucky’s apartment that evening, you were exhausted - and didn’t think twice about crawling into the covers next to him in bed. When you woke up the next morning, his arms were wrapped around you again, and you both found you didn’t quite mind.

You weren’t sure how Bucky felt, but you were content to lay there all day, until his phone rang and he disappeared into his living room for almost thirty minutes. You could hear low murmuring, but were still warm and dazed enough to not care to eavesdrop.

Bucky came back looking both angry and apologetic, and you wondered what could possibly be bothering him. All he had to do today was go to more meetings with you. Unless that was it - he was annoyed and uncomfortable with you now and you were spiraling into a pit of self doubt all of a sudden.

As if he could read your mind, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside you and grabbed your hand, running soft circles along the back of it with his thumb.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty head of yours, stop.” He kept silent, obviously waiting for a response, and you let out a deep sigh before nodding. “Good girl. I just got off the phone with Steve, he had a family emergency and had to drive back to Boston again. Since most of the meetings depended on him, the office is just taking the day off.”

“Oh, okay.” You felt relieved, and then confused. What would you do for a whole day in Brooklyn? You supposed you would just drive back early.

Already on that train of thought, you grabbed some clothes and changed, going through your morning routine, before coming back and beginning to pack before Bucky stopped you.

“What are you doing?”

“I was gonna go ahead and get my rental car. So I can go back to Boston.” You raised the end of your sentence like a question, as if you weren’t quite sure that was the right answer.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He made his way across the room to you. “I thought, maybe, I could show you around some more. There are a couple spots I think you’ll really love.”

You let out another breath you didn’t know you were holding, and Bucky smiled a little as he noticed. With a small salute to you, he disappeared into the bathroom to shower.

Figuring it was the least you could do to pay him back for everything, you headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. Apparently, all men are barren creatures, so you had to make do with eggs, toast, and coffee. Even still, the grin that split across Bucky’s face when he saw you standing at his stove could have rivaled the sun.

As you turned toward the sound of his footsteps, you caught sight of the smile and matched it with one of your own, before gesturing to his table where you already had a plate made for him. He sat down and you followed just a minute later, sitting across from him.

“This is amazing. Thank you.”

“Oh,” you bowed your head, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat now creeping along your face. “It’s nothing.”

Instead, he tucked one finger under your chin, bringing your eyes to meet his.

“It’s the most anyone has done for me in… a long time. It means a lot.” The sincerity in his words struck you through the heart, and you mirrored his soft smile before you both dug into your breakfast.

The conversation was quiet and comfortable and strangely domestic - like you could do this for the rest of your life.

I love him.

The thought was taking over you more and more now, and it took a lot of effort not to blurt it out as he talked to you about the Christmas sweaters he was excited to wear this year.

You couldn’t remember another word from breakfast, completely lost in the icy blue of his eyes, and only snapped out of it when he gently grabbed the plate in front of you, placing it and his own in the sink.

He then grabbed your bag and, once you had everything you needed, extended a hand to you.

“Alright, honey. Let me show you some Brooklyn.”

His first stop for you was a tiny storefront, the door not even big enough for two people to walk through.

Unnameable Books.

Inside was just how you pictured it, shelves upon shelves of books packed together, creating a maze deeper into the shop. He stopped before you could make a dash into the thick of it, grabbing your shoulders and facing you towards him.

“We’ll pick out a book for each other. One hour. Go.” And before you could even respond he had disappeared into a labyrinth of paperbacks.

You carefully perused each aisle, scared you may miss the perfect book - there didn’t seem to be any organization beyond genre - and you were currently wading knee deep in historical romance. Something told you that Bucky’s match wouldn’t be in these piles.

Then you saw it.

You remembered during your first meeting at that cafe, him mentioning his enthrallment with the 1940s, and you knew this book was the one.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. One of the most popular books sent to troops during World War II. One of the books that defined the 40s.

You were so excited you nearly tripped over a stack making sure you got it. Once you had it secured, clutched to your chest, you crept back through the shelves, and saw Bucky at the register.

He held a package - your book - wrapped in plain brown paper, obviously very smug about his choice. Motioning for him to turn around, he obeyed, and you paid while the old woman behind the counter wrapped Bucky’s book and gave you a knowing smile.

Feeling flush for the second time that morning, you tapped him on the shoulder, signalling you were ready to go.

“I have so got you beat,” you bragged, and he let out a hearty laugh.

“I didn’t realize this was a competition.” He let his voice drop to a stage-whisper as he teased, “but I’m totally going to win.” You playfully shouldered him as you both stepped out onto the sidewalk again.

Him, being so much bigger than you, didn’t budge. However, the force from which he didn’t move caused you to stumble, nearly taking out a man and his dog. Bucky grabbed your hand just in time to pull you out of the way, and didn’t let go as he once again led you through the streets of his home town.

As Bucky pulled you inside his favorite cafe, reminding you so much of your own back home, he told you to order for him while he took care of something.

Utterly confused, you watched him disappear - why did he keep disappearing today - through the kitchen doors as you stepped into line. You had just ordered, chai for you and a black coffee for Bucky - you couldn’t help being a little reminiscent, and stepped out of the way to wait for it when you heard an unfamiliar voice say your name.

You whipped your head to find Sharon standing right beside you. How you hadn’t noticed her, you had no clue.

“I just wanted to apologize.” Well you weren’t expecting that. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Me and Bucky have some… history. And by history, I mean that I was a really shitty friend and used him to make someone else jealous and well, I think you got caught in the middle of that. I wasn’t in the greatest mindset and I’m figuring my shit out, but that’s still no excuse. I just really wanted to clear the air.”

Not able to say anything, you stared at her in shock until you saw the wetness pooling at her lash line, and rushed to speak.

“Oh my god, it’s okay, I’m sorry. Wow. Listen, we’ve all been there. I’m glad you told me, and there are absolutely no hard feelings,” you assured her, another weight you didn’t know you were carrying being lifted from your shoulders.

She let out a small laugh as her tears spilt over, though she assured you it had nothing to do with you, and this is when Bucky decided to make his reentrance, now looking very uncomfortable.

Sharon just smiled at him, before squeezing your hand and promising to see you around the office, before she disappeared out of the cafe and back out into the throng of people.

Bucky obviously wanted to ask what the hell had just happened, but you waved him off before grabbing your drinks and settling down at a small table near the counter. It was only then you noticed what he had snuck off to get - the most delicious looking piece of peach cobbler you had ever seen.

Apparently you weren’t the only one listening that first time at the cafe, because he had remembered you gushing about your grandmother’s recipe and how you hadn’t had one since she passed. And suddenly you fell in love with him a little more.

You felt your own tears spring to your eyes, blinking them away before Bucky could notice, and snatched the fork from his hands to take the first bite - it didn’t escape your attention that he had only gotten one fork.

He played the part of the offended, but you could tell he was pleased with how happy it had made you.

Between sharing bites, you fell into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, content to stay there for the rest of the night, but as soon as Bucky saw that the sun was beginning to set, he gathered your dirty dishes and ushered you out the door before you could get a word in.

The hand he had used to pull you out of the cafe stayed firmly grasped in your own as you made your way into a nearby park.

It was beautiful, reminiscent of your own walk home those few weeks ago, the leaves now more bare but still beautiful in color. Despite the cool autumn chill, the park was bustling with people.

Kids playing games, people curled on blankets reading, and couples strolling hand in hand.

Just like you and Bucky.

Though you were huddled close, he hadn’t said a word since you entered the park, and you remained content in the silence. It wasn’t awkward, but you could tell Bucky was nervous for some reason.

He finally pulled you to a stop at a beautiful stone fountain, orange and red and yellow swirling throughout it in the shades of the trees. Still fidgety, he sat down and made a small motion for you to join him.

As you did, he grabbed your hand in his, settling them in his laps.

“This is, uh,” he cleared his throat, “this is where my parents got married.”

Your eyes widened in shock, now completely unsure of where this was going.

He gripped your hands a bit tighter before continuing, “Don’t freak out, okay? This place just holds a lot of amazing memories, for me and my entire family, and I wanted to make another with you.

“I know the past few weeks have been - well, honestly, they’ve kind of been a mess. And a lot of that is my fault, and I’m sorry. I hope I’ve begun to make it up to you. I want to continue to do that, but that’s not all I want.”

You held your breath, not knowing what to say, but knowing he wasn’t done yet.

“From the moment we first met, I’ve felt this pull towards you, that I couldn’t make sense of. And then we spent hours together that first date - that wasn’t really a date - and I couldn’t get you out of my head, and I was scared. I was supposed to be your mentor, be professional, and really, as much as everything with Peggy did hurt Steve, I was never worried about that with you.

“I was worried I would ruin everything by putting my romantic feelings in front of my professionalism, and you deserve the world - the world deserves your writing. The last thing I would ever want to do is get in your way. But if you’ll have me, I want to give you everything. I can’t help how I feel, and I hope to god you feel the same way about me. I’m absolutely falling for you, Y/N.”

You stayed silent for a moment more; Bucky had obviously spent a lot of time on this speech and you didn’t want to interrupt him before he was finished. But you couldn’t help the face splitting grin that erupted from you, and once you knew he was done, you didn’t waste any time lunging forward to tangle your hands in his hair, pulling his lips to yours.

“God, Bucky, of course I want you. I’ve wanted you since that very first day in Beth’s office and I’ve convinced myself everyday since that I didn’t. Because I was scared too. But I’m not scared anymore.”

The two of you sat, forehead to forehead, on the edge of that fountain for what felt like hours. Low whispers and soft giggles filled the space beside you alongside puffs of warm air, and you felt like you were in heaven. The strong scent of Bucky you never thought you would be lucky enough to have again filled your senses and you were content to spend forever in that moment.

Bucky broke the magic, however, when he reached into your bag now sitting on the ground and pulled out the books you had completely forgotten about.

Handing you yours, he waited for you to go first.

Wanting to tease him, you slowly pulled the paper back, until you saw the cover and couldn’t help yourself. He had gotten you a first edition of And Then There Were None.

It was gloriously used, someone else’s notes in the margins and - signed.

“According to the lovely woman at the shop, this is rumored to be Agatha Christie’s own copy. Whether that’s true or not, I figured you would like it all the same.” There was that bright smile again, because he already knew you so well. You swept him into another sweet kiss, before shoving his book in his face, not even more excited for him to open it.

Taking the exact opposite approach, he had ripped through the paper and was flipping excitedly through the pages before looking at you with a shining look in his eyes.

A look full of love.

“I have one more place to take you,” Bucky had said.

Which is how you ended up with your entire suitcase dumped on Bucky’s bed, searching for an outfit. You hadn’t packed any bar clothes for your weekend trip to sign a book deal. Go figure.

Finally deciding on a pair of jeans and a button up shirt, you started to get ready when you noticed a small gift bag at the bottom of your suitcase. You definitely didn’t pack that.

Inside were two scraps of lace that could barely constitute as underwear and a note saying go get your man that could only have come from your extremely considerate roommates. Feeling bold, you slipped them on, then quickly dressed before meeting Bucky back in his living room.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him, dressed in all black - jeans, shirt, boots, jacket. Leather jacket. You didn’t want to leave this apartment at all.

Instead, you willed the heat in your body to dissipate, and hooked your arm in his to make the journey downtown.

The bar was not at all what you were expecting. More of a warehouse, there were two long bars on either side of the room and a stage towards the back. But the majority of the space was taken up by a large dance floor already full of people.

You exchanged a look with Bucky, who just laughed and led you towards one of the bars.

“James! How wonderful to see you!” A large, hulking blond man made his way around the bar to crush Bucky into a hug, who laughed and returned it.

“Thor, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Thor,” he gestured at the large man, who you had to look up at to even meet his eyes. “He and his brother own the bar.”

“A pleasure to meet you, lady,” he said, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles, before slapping Bucky on the shoulder and returning to his side of the bar. “What can I get you all?”

The two of you ordered, and Thor quickly fixed your drinks before moving down to attend to some other patrons. You sipped at the colorful concoction, taking in the scene around you. When you turned, Bucky was taking you in.

Already feeling confident despite the minimal alcohol, you pushed your chest out just slightly towards him. He watched you sip the remnants of your drink before finishing his own, taking both in his hand before setting them on the bar and pulling you towards the dance floor.

In the midst of all the people, you were shoved chest to chest with Bucky, feeling intimate even in such a crowd. You spent a couple songs like that, teasing each other with light touches and kisses. It wasn’t until Bucky grabbed your waist and spun you away from him that you got the overwhelming urge to get him home.

He slowly moved your hips against his own to the beat of the song, and you could feel a hardness pressed against you that was growing in time with the pit in your stomach.

As the last notes of the song faded out, you turned back around to crash your lips to his, before leading him quickly to the front door - completely out of patience.

Barely onto the sidewalk, Bucky pushed you into the brick wall of the building, both of your hands anywhere they could touch. Even in the chill of the night, his body pressed against yours warmed you.

By the time you made it into his apartment, you were desperate to get his clothes off, and a trail of both of yours led the way to his bed. Your knees hit the edge and before you knew what was happening, you were splayed out for him.

He trailed kisses from your lips, down your neck and shoulders, before stopping to take a nipple in his mouth. Gentle nips on one while his fingers teased and pinched the other. He switched to give them equal attention before continuing his exploration of your body. Once he was settled on his stomach between your thighs, he took his sweet time teasing every inch except where you needed him most.

His soft kisses up and down each thigh drove you crazy until you finally laced your fingers in his hair and brought his mouth to where you needed him most. He smirked up at you before latching onto your clit, giving it a gentle suck while his fingers spread your folds. He licked a solid strip up your pussy before diving one finger in, testing your reaction.

He continued his sweet assault on your clit while he slipped in another finger, curling them until your back arched off the bed and he had to use his other hand to hold your hips down. Not wanting to be contained, you released his hair with one hand and intertwined your fingers through the hand he had pressing down on you, keeping a tight hold on him until his ministrations caused the tight coil in your stomach to snap, covering his hands and beard in your juices.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, making sure to keep eye contact while he sucked the taste of you off of each one, before kissing back up your body until he met your mouth.

You groaned at the taste of yourself, mixed with something entirely Bucky, while one hand made its way down his abdomen to find his leaking cock. Gripping it gently, you gave it a few pumps before adjusting your hips so his tip lined up with your entrance. He separated his lips from you, one hand once again lacing his fingers with yours, while the other was planted firmly beside your head. His eyes bore into yours as he finally slipped in, the stretch of him burning deliciously.

The urge to kiss every inch of him was overwhelming, and you started with the sweet spot just below his ear, trailing down his jaw and neck, and scattering along his collarbones. You stopped as you met his shoulder, instead leaving the barest touch of your lips along the mess of scars there.

His breath hitched and you looked back to see a shining in his eyes, causing you to pull his body close to yours and allowing every emotion you had dared to keep buried flow into your kiss. You were breathless when you finally pulled away, and your eyes fluttered closed and he snaked one hand between your bodies to rub circles around your clit.

“Hey,” he spoke, causing your eyes to open again. “Look at me, pretty girl. I wanna see your face when ya come for me.”

A moan rumbled low in his chest as you clenched around him, his words bringing you that much closer to the edge. As his fingers sped up, urging you closer and closer, you brought both hands to cup his face, never looking away as you finally let go.

Your orgasm triggered his own and he was a mumbling mess as his thrusts became sloppier.

“Where do ya want me baby?”

“Inside me, Buck. Please I - I need you.” Your words were the last thread for him, stuttering as he spilled inside you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, until you both finally came down, sweaty and clinging to each other.

After he took his time cleaning the both of you up, you lay, facing each other, whispering sweet nothings until you both fell asleep.

The last thing you heard before sleep pulled you under was Bucky, lips pressed to your forehead, telling you that you were all he needed.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky series #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #publisher!bucky #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #marvel #tiff writes #all you need

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

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that makes four.

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PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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punchdrunkdoc · 2 years

Text

Just Breathe - Ch.6

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

Beth stabbed at the pasta tubes on her plate as she watched the news. They were re-running the footage from earlier tonight that apparently showed Batman leading the chase through the woods for suspected serial killer Patrick Newsome. But all she could see from the shaky, blurred footage taken from the news helicopter was a bunch of indistinct figures emerging from the woods to the fleet of patrol cars waiting on the highway.

“Newsome was apparently shot during the confrontation and was taken to Gotham General Hospital where he remains in critical condition.” The anchor finished the bulletin and moved on to the next story.

Beth clicked off the TV in frustration. She knew Batman wouldn’t have shot anyone - he was notoriously anti-gun - so what the hell had happened out there? Was Newsome really the killer they were after? How did Batman track him down?

She had so many questions and no way to find the answers, and it was driving her CRAZY.

A light tapping at her window distracted her from mutilating her dinner. She glanced over to find the man in question crouched on her fire escape.

She dropped her plate onto the coffee table and ran to open the window. “Are you okay?” she asked as Batman climbed inside. “Are you hurt? I saw on the news that you were chasing after a suspect…”

He shook his head and she sighed in relief.

He stood in her living room, head bowed and gaze fixed to her floor. He wasn’t hurt, but he obviously wasn’t okay.

He looked…broken.

She pushed him towards her couch and made him sit. “What happened out there?”

He said nothing, just rubbed harshly at the blood stains on his gloves, as if trying to wipe away evidence.

She gently put her hands over his, stilling the movement. “Okay, enough of this Lady Macbeth routine.” She tugged on each glove until they came off, exposing the bandage-wrapped hands underneath. She pushed her discarded plate towards him. “Eat,” she commanded. “It’ll make you feel better.”

She left him to it and walked over the sink in the kitchen. She wet a cloth and started to scrub away the blood from the gloves. When they were clean, she returned to the living room. The plate of pasta had been finished off and Batman was looking more himself.

Carbs could fix anything.

He glanced up at her. His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry for coming like this-“

“You don’t need to be sorry.” She handed him the gloves which he placed down at his feet. She took a seat beside him. “Is something wrong?” she asked hesitantly.

All of a sudden, the tension seemed to seep out of him. He collapsed back against the couch cushions and tilted his head until he was staring up at her ceiling. “Gordon got shot.”

She gasped, not expecting that. “What? Is he okay?”

Batman scrubbed his hands over his face. “Bullet went through his leg. He’s in surgery - apparently - but I don’t know anything more. I’m banned from the hospital. The cops think its my fault.”

“Did you shoot him?” She asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He turned his head to look at her. They were seated close to each other on the narrow sofa, and she could see the weariness in his eyes. The ashen tint to his skin. “Of course not,” he whispered.

“Then its not your fault. Gordon is a cop - he’s been a cop for a lot of years. Getting hurt is a risk he knowingly takes every time he leaves for work.”

Batman sat forward again and clenched his hands together. “But if I hadn’t spooked Newsome in the woods by chasing after him, he wouldn’t have fired-“

“And then he would have gotten away. Do you think Gordon wanted that? You caught the guy you’ve been after for 18 months!”

He let out a harsh laugh. There was no humour in the sound. “That’s the other part of tonight’s disaster. Newsome got shot too. And just before he lost consciousness, he told me he’s got another victim out there somewhere.”

He abruptly got off the couch and started pacing. “I searched his house and there was nothing. Nothing in the attic. No basement or secret room. He’s got another location, and he’s keeping a girl there. Newsome is in surgery too right now, so there’s no way to get that info out of him. She could be dying as we speak!”

It was the most emotion she’d ever seen from him, the anger and frustration palpable in his voice. She joined him on the floor and put her hand on his arm to stop his pacing. “Hey, it’ll be okay-”

“How? The cops won’t listen to me. Even when Newsome wakes up, I won’t be able to get close to him. And I can’t speak to Gordon-”

“But I can.”

He turned to stare at her. “What?”

“I’ll go down to the hospital. I did some shifts there for extra cash when I first moved to Gotham. I’ll grab my old ID and I’ll be able to get access to Gordon. If he’s awake, I can explain the whole thing to him.”

Batman shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that-“

“You didn’t. I’m volunteering. I hate the idea of someone being out there, trapped and alone, as much as you do. Let me help her. Please.”

He gazed into her eyes as some calculation went through his mind. Then he nodded slowly, and brought his hand up, as if to cup her face. She automatically shied away from the bare tips of his fingers. It was instinct now, after so many years of avoiding contact.

“I- I’m gonna go get changed.” She spun on her heels and headed for her bedroom. “Don’t go anywhere,” she called out over her shoulder.

Minutes later she returned to her living room, dressed in scrubs and sneakers. She’d found her old ID at the bottom of her dresser and it swung from a lanyard around her neck.

He was in the same place she’d left him, his hands clenched by his side. She felt bad for shying away from his touch and hoped he hadn’t taken it as a rejection.

It was a rejection…but not for the reasons he was probably thinking.

“How can I contact you, after I speak to Gordon? Are you going to stay here, or…”

“No. I’ll go home and see if I can find any other properties Newsome has access to.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing “Give me your phone. There’s a number you can call to contact me.”

She handed over her phone and watched him type. She got the feeling giving out his number was a big show of trust on his part. She wanted to reassure him that she would never betray that trust - that she’d already been keeping his identity a secret for months now.

He left by the window after returning her phone. She grabbed her car keys and exited the front door. Speeding towards the hospital minutes later she shook her head at this strange turn of events. For the past week she’d been feeling…down.

Dejected.

Jealous.

Ever since she’d seen the photos of Bruce Wayne and that stunning supermodel having dinner together.

It was crazy. She had no claim on Bruce Wayne. She had technically never even met Bruce Wayne. So it was really none of her business if he dated long-legged beauties with flawless dark skin and cheekbones for days.

But…really, she did know Bruce Wayne.

And he’d lied to her when he said he had nothing else in his life outside of being Batman. Apparently, he was de-stressing at night by hanging out with famous models. Probably having sex with famous models.

How was a girl to compete with that?

Not that she wanted to compete. But the heart was an illogical, fickle organ. And hers had kept her occupied this last week with these petty, jealous, irrational feelings.

Until tonight…when the object of those feelings had climbed through her window.

He had come to her tonight.

Not because he needed patching up after a fight. Not because he needed her help. He had come because he didn’t want to be alone. He had come because he needed someone to talk to when he was feeling upset and frustrated.

And that someone…was her.

So the supermodels could have Bruce Wayne. She would take Batman.

That’s always how she referred to him in her head, anyway. He was Batman to her. He was the good man, trying to save his city. Not some superficial, idle billionaire.

She just hoped that good man would forgive her for lying to him tonight.

Because she wasn’t going to see Gordon.

She was going to see Newsome.

———

It went exactly to plan.

She walked onto the surgical recovery ward, put a mask over her face, and grabbed the nearest clipboard. Trying to look official, she made her way to Newsome’s room - the only one on the floor being guarded by two uniformed police officers. One was a young Latina woman. The other was an older man; he was balding with a bit of a paunch.

The man stepped in front of the door as she reached it, blocking her way. She fed him the line she’d been rehearsing on the elevator ride up. “I’m part of the surgical team. I’ve been asked by my Attending to check the drain output on this patient.”

He glanced at her ID and nodded, then stepped aside to let her pass. “I’ll be watching from here. Protocol,” he shrugged.

“No problem, Officer.”

She stepped over the threshold and exhaled quietly in relief.

Step one was complete.

Now she just had to touch this monster and hope he had enough brain function left for her to pick up on his memories.

Conscious of the officer watching her back, she crouched down to check the surgical drains and pretended to write a note on her clipboard. Then she stood up and moved closer to Newsome, glad to see he was still sedated from the surgery. She didn’t know if she could have done this with him awake and watching her. It was going to be bad enough with him unconscious, she could just tell.

She was right.

The moment the bare skin of her hand pressed against his, vile, horrible images flooded her mind.

She saw him punching the teenage runaway again and again. You couldn’t have just given in, huh? Is this better? Is it?! He yelled the words as he bludgeoned her to death.

Similar words were spoken to the kid as he strung him up by the neck.

As he stabbed the old man…

He was full of hatred for these people.

Because they didn’t give in. Because they couldn’t just accept him. Accept their captivity.

They fought him every step of the way, when all he wanted was compliance. When all he wanted was their affection.

He kidnapped them off the streets. Held them underground. In the dark, confused and unbalanced by the drug pumping into their system. The drug that was meant to make them biddable. And he kept them isolated and hungry, to make them grateful for any time he spent with them.

In the depths of his perverted, sick mind…he was trying to force Stockholm syndrome on these people. He wanted a loving captive. He wanted a companion to replace the twin he’d lost all those years before…

But none of them submitted to their fate. They always fought him. They always looked at him with anger and contempt in their eyes. These people who were nothing, thought they were still better than him.

So he killed them…and began afresh with someone new.

Unable to stand it a second longer, Beth wrenched her hand away from his. The disorientation from being in someone else’s head, mixed with those awful images, made her nauseous. She sprinted into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

“Hey, Doc? You okay?” The policeman called from the doorway.

She stood up and cleaned her mouth. Then wiped away the tear marks streaming down her face. When had she started crying?

“Doc?”

“I’m okay,” she answered. She re-entered the main room, and plastered on a smile. “Morning sickness,” she said, coming up with an excuse on the spot. “I tend to get it at night.”

The policeman nodded and returned her smile. “My wife was like that with our first. It sucked. I hope it gets better soon.”

“So do I. Thank you.”

She stumbled out of the door and through the ward, her stomach still queasy.

The memories from his head would pollute her mind forever…but it was worth it.

Because she knew where his last victim was being held.

———

As she backed out of her parking spot, she called the number Batman had given her. It rang only once before he picked up. “Beth?”

“It’s me.”

“Did you get to see Gordon?”

“He was still unconscious, so I didn’t get to speak to him. But he came out of the surgery okay. They think he’ll make a full recovery.” It was all true - on her way out of the ward, she had stopped by his room and spoken to his nurse.

“Thank you.”

“Did you have any luck on your end?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t found any other properties under his name or his family’s.”

That’s because it wasn’t a property.

It was an abandoned underground bunker that Newsome had once discovered on a hunting trip with his brother. The house nearby was little more than a ramshackle, half-eroded hut that hadn’t been occupied since the fifties. But the nuclear fallout shelter was intact. They’d stumbled upon the hatch door by accident and had spent more than an hour exploring the place.

Years later, when Newsome had concocted his plan, the discovery of that shelter had felt like serendipity.

And now there was a girl trapped in it.

She’d been there for almost a week…and was dangerously low on water. She likely wouldn’t last through the night.

But Beth couldn’t tell anyone where the bunker was - she didn’t have an address or even directions. All she had were Newsome’s memories of what the roads and turnings looked like when he drove there.

So she would have to find it herself.

She hung up the phone and started driving.

Fast.

More than an hour north of the city, she turned down a narrow, unmarked dirt lane, hemmed on either side by overgrown jagged bushes. She barely noticed the damage the branches were doing to the paintwork of her car, or the beating her suspension was taking on the uneven road.

She was close.

She screeched to a halt as the road opened up into a small clearing. She saw the house to her left. Which meant the bunker’s hatch was straight ahead.

She removed her ID and stashed it in the glove box, then grabbed a ball cap and tucked her hair into it. She pulled the brim low and tugged on her surgical mask. She zipped up her long coat to cover her scrubs, then she grabbed the rest of her supplies and raced out of the car.

Her eyes scanned the ground in front of her, and when she spotted the cardboard sheet anchored down with bricks she skidded to her knees next to it.

This was it.

She ripped away the cardboard covering and quickly entered the combination on the lock keeping the hatch closed. She pulled it open and peered into the darkness below.

“Hello?” She started climbing down the ladder. “Samantha, can you hear me? I’m gonna get you out of here.”

When she reached the concrete floor she clicked on the light on her phone. The room was small and sparse; there was an empty shelving unit against the wall to her right, a foul-smelling bucket in the corner to her left, and taking up the back wall was a threadbare cot.

With a still figure curled up on top of it, facing Beth.

She ran over. “Samantha?”

Her eyes were closed and there was no response, but Beth could see the slight rise and fall of her chest as the young woman breathed. Beth nearly sobbed with relief.

She wasn’t too late.

She pushed up the sleeve on the girl’s left arm and removed the transdermal medication patch, hoping that it would rouse her a bit. She needed her conscious enough to climb up the ladder - there was no way Beth could carry her.

She wondered for the millionth time since leaving the hospital if she'd made the right call. Maybe she should have just told Batman what she'd discovered. She could have brought him with her...

But then the questions would begin, and her ability would be discovered. He would think she was a freak. He wouldn't want to be near her again, in case she found out something she wasn't meant too...if he even believed her in the first place and didn't think she was losing her mind...

No. It was safer to keep it a secret.

Besides, she didn't really need Batman tonight - there was no danger here. This girl needed a doctor, not a hero.

Beth stopped second-guessing...and got to work.

She used the IV kit that she'd stolen from the hospital to set up a saline drip. Samantha barely stirred as the needle entered her skin, but the reading from the sats machine on her finger and the strong pulse at her wrist were reassuring. Beth squeezed the bag of fluid to force it through the tubing faster, then swapped out the empty packet for another litre of fluid.

Halfway through that, Samantha woke up.

Sensing another presence in the room, she started to thrash on the bed in panic. “Hey, hey," Beth soothed. "Its okay. You're going to be okay. It's all over. I'm gonna get you out of here."

The girl froze and stared up at her. She cracked open her parched lips and whispered, "It's over?"

Beth nodded.

Half an hour later, when Samantha was finally steady enough on her feet, the two of them made their way out of the bunker and into Beth's car. The girl - she was no more than 18 years old - clung to the fabric of Beth's coat the entire journey to the nearby hospital. It made shifting gears difficult, but Beth didn't mind. The poor girl needed an anchor - to let her know this wasn't a dream. That she really was safe now.

Beth had some experience with that feeling….

When Beth pulled in to the ambulance bay of the ER department and shut off the engine, Samantha panicked. She clutched at Beth, her nails digging into her skin through her coat, her fingers pulling at the fabric. "Don't leave. Please, don't go."

"We're at the hospital, Sam. Look," she pointed out the windscreen to the brightly lit building. “You're safe. I'm just going let them know we're here, then I'll be right back." Readjusting her cap to better hide her face, she entered the hospital. Catching the attention of one of the nurses, she called out to her. "I have a girl in my car who needs some help!”

The nursing staff and porters mobilised at once and Beth followed them as they rushed outside. Then she stepped into the shadows and watched as they bundled Sam out of the car and into a wheelchair. Once they were inside, Beth slipped back into the passenger seat and sped away. She felt guilty for leaving Sam without saying goodbye, but she couldn't risk hanging around and being exposed.

Especially when the police arrived.

That was the final step in her plan. Batman and Lieutenant Gordon needed to know that Newsome's last victim had been found alive and well. So she pulled in to the first public payphone she could find and called in an anonymous tip to the local PD.

That done, she dropped back into the driver's seat and yawned. It was past midnight now and she was exhausted. She merged back on to the highway and headed home, dreaming of the moment she could collapse into bed.

She never suspected that her ID card was missing from the glove box...

----

CHAPTER 7

Taglist: @hollandorks @grunge-n-roses5 @xmxrfx @neptunesands @caramelcandescence @blossomedfloweroflove @wanderdreamer @angelsarecallin @stephenismyking @rabbitdictionary

If anyone else wants to be added, let me know!

#Batman #The Batman 2022 #The Batman 2022 fic #Batman fic #Battinson #Battinson fic #Batman fanfic #bruce wayne/oc #bruce wayne/original character #Bruce Wayne #batman/original character #batman/oc #Just breathe #my fic

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART FOURTEEN

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: mentions of sexual content, feelings, cigarettes Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place.

Notes: HI EVERYONE! I’m sorry I’m so inconsistent lately. I promise that the next chaptered fic I write, I’ll only start posting it when I’m done writing it. I hope you like this chapter - its incredibly sappy because I’m on my period lol

As always, big thanks to my beta, @lantern-inthenight <3

taglist: @valleyd0ll @satingrass-maidensfair @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @peaceisouranthem @oblvions @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96 @anditsmywholeheart @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies @bigblack-catattack @dharma-divine

MASTERPOST

“Remind me again why you want to ride separately from your brother?” You looked pointedly over at Josh, who was smiling as he ran a soapy rag over the plate you’d just finished eating off of.

“I already have to spend my whole winter break with my family, no need to rob myself of alone time with you,” he explained like it was obvious.

A huff escaped your lips. You pushed away from where you had been leaning against the counter and wrapped your arms around his neck from behind. You laid your head in between his shoulder blades, feeling him turn to nuzzle his nose against your arm as it laid on his shoulder.

“We spend so much time together - like every day - which I’m obviously grateful for,” you said, half-muffled by the material of his sweater. “But don’t you think it just makes more sense to carpool?”

You couldn’t see his hands, but the movements you could feel told you he was wiping the extra water off of them before turning around and pressing your chests together. His lips lightly brushed your temple as he spoke.

“You’re right,” he agreed, though you knew him well enough to know he wasn’t about to just relent. “It does make more sense - I just don’t want to.”

You let out a breath, frowning as you tried to figure out if you should say what you were thinking. After a moment of working up the courage, you cupped his jaw with your right hand, knowing full well that the sweet gesture would help him swallow the discomfort your words would cause.

“Josh,” Your voice was low and quiet, but as you met his eyes, you chickened out. They were so honest, looking at you like your presence was the only thing keeping him grounded - like if you left, he’d just cease to exist. You made a mental note to have a talk with him about that at some point, but you decided it would have to be after you’d returned from Christmas break.

“Hm?” You must have been contemplating too long, prompting his features into a look of concern. You couldn’t bear it.

“Jake is going to ride with us,” you said decidedly. “I already told him he could.”

That was a bit of a lie - he had mentioned it a few days ago and you had said you’d run it by Josh, but you had just made up his mind for him.

He huffed a laugh as he rolled his eyes playfully at you. “Sounds like you’re already communicating better with my family than I have in months.”

“Well,” you started, giving him a pointed look - the kind you only give when you feel confident that you’re right. “I think that would mean communicating with them at all. Honestly, Josh, I know you-”

You were abruptly silenced as he placed his forefinger across your open lips, a half-smirk on his face.

“It’s okay,” he assured simply. “He can ride with us.”

A smile spread across your face underneath his finger. “Good. Have you started packing?” Your words were muffled under his touch.

“Eh,” he replied with a noncommittal shrug, lowering his hand to brush his thumb across your chin.

“Do you want help with that?” you inquired cheekily. “Because, you know, we leave in two days.”

He appeared to consider it for a moment before nodding. “Actually, yeah, that sounds nice. You can sit on my bed and watch while I pack really inappropriate clothes for the occasion.”

You half-snorted out a laugh, rolling your eyes because you knew that’s the reaction he was aiming for. “How about I just pack for you?”

+++

For the first time since knowing him, you saw Jake Kiszka wearing a jacket. It was long and dramatic and nearly brushed the top of the snow as he made his way out to your car with a leather duffle bag in his left hand.

He opened the rear, passenger-side door and tossed his bag in next to yours and Josh’s before sliding in next to it.

You greeted him cheerily, to which he shot you back a smile as a reply.

“You’re actually wearing a coat,” you noted as he pulled the seatbelt over his form and buckled in.

He hummed amusedly, reaching into his pocket and popping a stick of gum in his mouth.

“I’ve found that he doesn’t usually dress like a slut to go home,” Josh replied instead as he turned a lighter around in his palm, absent of the task.

“And if I didn’t wear a coat home, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Josh nodded in agreement, and then you watched a shit-eating grin spread across his lips. “I’m kinda surprised Kate isn’t coming with us today, to be honest. Are you waiting until Easter just to make sure?”

You were busy pulling out onto the road, so you didn’t see it, but you could imagine Jake deeply rolling his eyes at the question.

“I would bring Kate home - it would make me truly happy to physically see Mom die a little inside when she starts trying to talk about amphibious breeding cycles at length during dinner,” he mused, voice clear of any kind of sorrow. He finished simply and with a smile, “But she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“I don’t know, it seemed a little sus when I showed up at her house in the morning and you were already there, chillin’ with her dog,” you replied in a sing-song voice.

“I wasn’t already there, I was still there.” You felt him place a hand on your shoulder, and slap his other one against Josh’s. “Not all of us have the luxury of just being able to pop down the hall.”

“Fair enough,” you relented, feeling your face flush warm.

“Or the shower. Or the kitchen that one time,” Josh added unhelpfully, making your eyes immediately pop open.

“Josh,” you scolded and quickly considered reaching over and slapping him, but decided it was unsafe to drive and strike a passenger at the same time.

“No, this is good,” Jake assured through a smirk you could hear. “Let him get it all out before we get there.”

Josh snickered back, “You’re such a prick.”

+++

The Kiszka homestead was almost impossibly cozy. There was a basket of blankets by the big sofa (much nicer and fluffier than the blankets at your apartment, which had been flattened and matted to the point of complete defeat) and the furniture was centered around a glowing, stone fireplace. Josh’s mom had hugged him for a long moment upon your arrival - a gesture that made your throat feel tight as you watched her fingers flex in the material at the back of his shirt.

She was sunny and kind to the point that you could clearly see Josh’s mannerisms reflected in hers, and the dinner she laid out on the dining room table seemed impossibly large to you, having come from a home with just three people in it.

When she asked you how you liked Midwestern cooking, you gushed about it for - what was undeniably - too long. You’d never say, but you weren’t positive that part of it wasn’t just not having had a real home-cooked meal in months.

You had come to decipher that Josh had told his family that you were just a roommate that didn’t have a place to go for winter break, but you were pretty sure you’d be able to tell the nature of your relationship if you were on the outside looking in - you seemed to be magnetically drawn to wherever Josh was these days.

Everyone cleared out of the living room pretty quickly after dinner and conversation, and you finally got the chance to ask the question that had been on your mind all day.

“Do I sleep out here?”

You were posted up on the couch, your legs crossed one over the other with Josh staying a few inches farther away from you than you were used to.

“No,” he replied. “You can take my room and I’ll sleep out here.”

You had asked mostly as a formality - you hadn’t figured that you’d actually have to sleep separately. Through a slight frown, you said, “Oh, man. It’s been a while since I’ve had to sleep alone. What if I freeze to death?”

He flashed you a smile. “I thought ahead and laid a heated blanket out on the bed for you.”

“Heated blanket? This whole time heated blankets were an option?” you whispered harshly.

“Okay, in my defense, by the time I remembered that they existed, we were already sleeping in the same bed every night.”

The suspicious way you stared at him for a few moments had him biting back a laugh - one of those unguarded ones that seemed to be reserved for people he was really comfortable around. Which seemed to just be you most of the time.

“Will you at least come get ready for bed with me?” you asked, subtly looking up at him through your lashes.

“Of course - no puppy eyes necessary,” he assured with a snicker.

This room was decidedly different than the one back in Ann Arbor. Josh’s space back in the apartment was mostly made up of Earth tones - either picked by choice or having just dulled over time. There were little pops of color scattered around the room, like the golden yellow rug that spread across almost all of the wooden floor, or the string of flags that spanned the entire wall above his bed.

This room was different. You could tell that his parents had tried to clean it up since Josh had moved out, but there was still evidence of spots where posters were hung on the maroon red walls. A stack of comics laid on the dresser - the surface of which was covered in residue and paper where he had placed stickers and then tried to peel them off.

You eyed a well-used keyboard placed along the far wall, and what appeared to be milk crates full of sheet music and the idea of him sitting in front of it and practicing for hours brought a smile to your lips.

He hauled both of your bags up onto the bed and you both picked through them for the sleep apparel you’d packed. You watched him change into a short-sleeved tee and a pair of loose flannel pants through the bathroom mirror as you brushed your teeth across the hall, and when he caught your eyes, he gave you a smirk.

You’d been half expecting him to change his mind and just crawl into bed with you, but instead, he helped you clamber under the covers and pulled the comforter up to your chest.

“Wow, full service tuck-in and everything,” you teased, but quickly shut up when his thumb brushed over your lips.

“Well,” he mused, voice low. “Not the full service.”

You gave him a sour grin as he backed up to the door and flicked the light off.

“Good night, Joshua.”

+++

The next couple of days came and went easily. You were starting to get actually acquainted with his family - chatting with his mother and sister over morning coffee, and getting pinned between his brothers on the sofa while Christmas movies played in the background.

You really hadn’t realized how much you missed being around family until it hit you at dinner one night. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Josh unscrewed the lid on the salt under the lip of the table and then asked Sam if he wanted any.

Josh was just about to slide it across the beat-up wooden surface when you snatched it out of his hand, pointedly tightened the lid, and then slid it over.

When you peeked over at him, Josh was glaring at you, but he wasn’t able to stop the mischievous smirk that his mouth took the shape of.

Sam huffed a laugh that sounded more like a scoff, having figured out the plot quickly after seeing the look on Josh’s face.

“Samuel, do me a favor and dump the whole shaker of salt on your potatoes,” Josh requested in a faux-sweet voice. “Please and thank you.”

“Piss off.” Sam’s reply came through a mouth-full of food, but somehow, he still managed to look lovely while saying it. However, that didn’t save him from his mom’s scolding look - though whether that was in response to the harsh language or speaking with a full mouth was anyone’s guess. You guessed that a person never got to grow out of being “the baby”.

It was then - that simple moment - that you realized how oddly welcomed you felt in this setting. It hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable even once. You’d never felt out of place despite how different it was from your own home experience.

After you were settled into bed that night, you laid awake thinking about nothing and everything. You didn’t feel particularly tired, but you had decided to turn in when Josh started dozing off on the couch while you were watching the tv on low volume.

You had no clue what time it was, as your phone was charging across the room, but at some point you heard the distinct sound of a door creaking open. It was just down the hall - that you could distinguish - but you weren’t positive which room specifically. The person made their way down the hall, and then up a creaky set of steps, though you could tell that they were trying to move quietly when they got to the next floor and the cadence of their steps changed to something lighter.

You thought about it for a moment before pushing the covers off of you, crawling out of the warmth of the nest you’d made, and slipping your feet into a pair of Josh’s fuzzy slippers that were just barely peeking out under the bed frame. Trying to be as quiet as the last person had been, you crept up the stairs in the low light, having to strain to see the steps in the unfamiliar space, lest you lose your footing.

The room at the top of the steps was a study, and on the other side of it was a large, sliding glass door. And on the other side of that, was Jake, sat out on a covered patio with a cigarette in his hand.

You crossed the room, grabbing a blanket off of the worn leather sofa and wrapping it around yourself as you moved.

He barely turned his head to look at you as you slid the glass open and stepped out onto the porch. The brisk air hit you hard enough to nearly knock the breath from your lungs, so you pulled the blanket up your body until only your head was showing.

“Sorry if I scared you.” The volume of your words were just above a whisper as you bent to sit next to him on the cold wood. “Or if I’m intruding.”

He hummed around his cigarette before ashing it into a Coke can. “You didn’t, and you aren’t.” He looked you over for the first time then and frowned deeply at you. “You are going to freeze to death though. Where the hell is your coat?”

“I’m fine, I’ve got the blanket, see?” you assured, though you had to admit that the cold cut right through the thick material.

He ran his eyes up and down it, rolling them affectionately at you. “Okay,” he replied, though it sounded nothing like he believed you. After a few silent moments, he spoke again.

“How are you liking it here?”

A genuine smile spread out over your lips. “Michigan is lovely, if that’s what you mean. Cold to the point where I’m not sure why anyone would want to live here, but. Lovely, all the same.”

He smiled back at you, oddly warm in nature for him. “And what about the family? Do you find all of us lovely too?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed, pulling your knees up to your chest like you were in a cocoon. Another few long moments ticked by as you watched the snow fall. The night was so still that you swore you could hear the flakes as they settled on whatever surface they happened to land on.

“Can I ask you something?” You flicked your eyes over at him to assess his expression. You knew your brows were threaded close together in worry, which he seemed to take into account before he answered.

He nodded as he took another drag. “Sure,” he replied, smoke and steam glowing with the light of the cherry on the end of his cigarette as he exhaled.

You were silently trying to figure out how to word it for long enough that he looked over at you expectantly.

“Do you think Josh would have come home for Christmas if I...weren’t around?”

He met your eyes and huffed a humorless laugh. “I think that he would have spent a week or two anxiously deciding whether he could handle it and then, ultimately, he would feel too guilty to say no. And from there, I think it would have been a repeat of last year - he would have come home here, found it exhausting, and then screened everyone's’ calls for a couple of months again.”

You weren’t sure what to say, so you just stared at his face, your teeth pressed into your bottom lip until you could feel they’d left an indent as you ran your tongue over it.

“But it’s weird, right?” he continued, biting back a smirk that made you a little uneasy about what he was going to say next. “He seems to be almost blissfully happy this year.”

You held your breath for a moment as you tried to organize your emotions, and then exhaled in a rush once it became uncomfortable. “Look, I. He’s obviously a lot of things to me. A best friend, a room mate, a...romantic partner?”

Jake shot you a disbelieving but highly amused look at your wording.

“But I’m worried that he’s tying himself to me too tightly.” With your eyes, you tried to portray the emotions that that thought evoked in you - how compressed it made you feel.

He seemed to chew it over as he stubbed out his cigarette on the damp wood and then - near instantly - materialized another from behind his ear like a magic trick.

“I love seeing him happy, but I’m scared that I’m the only thing making him happy,” you finished, voice admittedly a little shaky. You didn’t ask first - though you should have - but you slid closer to him until your shoulders were touching, and despite not knowing him all that well yet, it still managed to make you feel more grounded. “It’s not that I expect this to end - whatever we have - but what if it does?”

Jake’s eyes flitted around your features like he was trying to map your face as you anxiously waited for him to tell you everything would be alright.

“You know,” he started, voice low. “When we moved away for school, he was the one that decided we wouldn’t room together. I mean, I didn’t blame him or anything, but I always just assumed we would. He used to be so outgoing. I mean, he never missed a party. People would trip over themselves to be next to him. He used to take his ex out any time he could - it didn’t really matter where, because he’s always had a way of making even the most monotonous task seem fun.”

You didn’t try to suppress a smile as it found your lips.

“So, his ex broke it off with him. I don’t know what happened really - only what I’ve been able to pry out of him - but it fucked him up pretty good. And then as he was just starting to get over it, his roommate had some kind of mental break and just moved out one weekend while Josh was gone. It’s not like they were best friends or anything, but they got along.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, resting your head on Jake’s shoulder and not caring whether or not it was polite to do so anymore.

“Yeah,” he agreed, simply. The tone of his voice was something very somber - the kind you’d use if you were giving a eulogy. “I tried to help. I offered to move in with him. I showed up at his apartment all the time, but he got pretty effective at dodging me. Not just me, actually, but everyone. Worried the fuck out of our mom.”

“What then?” You were not-so-secretly hoping that Jake was going to find a way to make you feel better, and the pitch of your voice reflected it. The core of your body felt like it was stuffed full of stones, weighted and heavy. “What happened?”

Jake hummed. “Well, he started to level out a bit. After a good couple months he started at least answering the door when I came to see him. Sometimes he’d text me back after a day or two. That went on like that for a while.”

He titled his head to look over at you then for the first time in a while. You felt oddly vulnerable after hearing all of that, but you tried not to duck away from his eyes.

“But then, suddenly, you were there. He didn’t tell me a thing about you, or even that he was getting a new roommate until well after you were already moved in.”

You huffed a laugh. “If it makes you feel better, he didn’t tell me anything about you either really. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and you were a twin. Uncanny valley territory.”

“I think he learned how to compartmentalize the people in his life. Seems like it’s easier to manage relationships that way when you’re an extremely guarded person like he had suddenly become.”

He took a pause to take a long drag, simultaneously running a hand through his silky hair.

“But to answer your question - I don’t think you’re the only thing making him happy,” he continued, meeting your eyes with an intensity that you understood to your core. “I think you’re just reminding him that there are things to be happy about.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, but you were suddenly choking back tears and a tight, hot feeling in your throat.

“You’ve just got to give him time to remember what it’s like.”

When you opened your mouth to reply, you realized you’d been holding your breath for a moment too long, causing you to suck in a shaky breath. “I intend to give him all the time he needs,” you promised.

Jake offered you back a smile as he moved to stand, stretching out his muscles and then extending a hand for you to take. He helped you clamber up off the floor before tucking his lighter back into the pocket of his fleece sleep-pants.

“Good to hear.”

#brightest blue fic #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #josh kiszka #josh fic #josh kiszka fic #josh x reader #writing

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wandanatfluff · 3 years

Text

"I love you"

One shot Fluff (and a little bit angst I guess)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Wanda are good friends. Reader is in love with Wanda and tells Wanda, but even though Wanda loves Y/n, she tells her that they can’t be together.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3.8 K

A/n: So this is my first fanfiction!!! I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you guys enjoy reading it :-)! Wanda is in italics.

Steve, Tony, Bruce, Nat, and Clint were currently in a debriefing of the most recent mission at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and that leaves you and Wanda alone in the Avengers Tower.

You open the door of the freezer and grab the chocolate ice cream that you bought earlier this week. It is four a.m. and you are in the kitchen in a pair of soft shorts and a t-shirt. After closing the freezer and grabbing two spoons, you turn off the lights in the kitchen and walk down the hall to room 208. With the ice creams and spoons in one hand you stand still in front of the room. You hear can hear someone sobbing on the other side of the door quietly before you knock. The person in the room quickly wipes away their tears and clears their throat before opening the door.

“Hey?” Wanda speaks with a hoarse voice.

“Hey. It’s me.” You say.

“I brought you ice cream.” And you show her the ice cream. A small, but sad smile appears on her face and she lets you in. She gestures to the bed and you take place on the colorful covers. She sits down next to you and turns on the tv. She puts on a sitcom and you hand her a spoon.

“Do you want to talk about him?”

“Uh… not really.”

“That’s okay.”

Wanda nods her head and tears fill her eyes again as she softly begins to cry. You put away the ice cream that was standing in between the two of you so you can move closer to Wanda. You lay one hand on her shoulder, silently asking for permission to hold her in your arms. Wanda’s body relaxes under your touch and you carefully pull her into a hug. You lay her head on your chest, one arm wrapped around her warm body. Your other hand on the side of her head, softly stroking her hair.

It’s later in the evening and you are in your room, reading a book in the chair next to the window. You flip the page and you are just about to start your next chapter when Wanda knocks on your open door. You put your finger between the pages and you close your book, looking up at Wanda, making sure she knows she has your full attention. Wanda is standing in the door opening, fidgeting with her fingers, like she always does. It’s the most adorable thing.

“I uhm, was going to start dinner. The rest should be here in an hour or so. I could use some help in the kitchen.”

“I mean, you don’t have to… I can do it alone, but just if you, you know, want to.” A shy smile appears on her face and her cheeks turn soft pink as she looks down at her hands.

You smile at her flood of words and tell her that you would love to help her cook. You pick up your bookmark, put it between the pages and lay your book on the side table. You get up from your chair and walk to the kitchen.

“What do you want to make?” You ask Wanda. “I don’t know, I was thinking maybe pasta?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Let me just change my shirt, I’d prefer not to spill red sauce on my new top.” You say and smile. You go to your room and replace your light blue tank top for a short red t-shirt to go on top of your dark blue jeans.

Once you made your way back to the kitchen, Wanda has already started to gather the right ingredients, while mumbling in half English, half Sokovian.

“Chicken… tomatoes… paprika.”

You grin and let out a small chuckle at the way she pronounces paprika. She looks up at you and your eyes interlock.

She looks so good in that red shirt. It’s impossible not look at her. The short red shirt shows a bit of her tanned body and your eyes are immediately drawn to her perfect skin. Your eyes make their way up to hers and they suck you in. You suddenly realize that you are staring and quickly look the other way as you continue with what you were doing. Your cheeks turning the color of the tomatoes.

It was just for a brief moment, but you could have sworn Wanda stared at you. It was probably just your imagination, but it was what you needed to take the first step.

Wanda had already cut the zucchini and was just washing the paprika when you softly touch her wet hands and lay the paprika next to the sink.

A pleasant shiver goes through your body as your hands touch.

You hold each of her hands in yours, so that she faces you. She is looking down at the floor and you let go of one hand to gently touch her jawline, guiding her eyes into yours. You look into her beautiful green eyes as you grab her hand once again.

“Wanda-” You start. Your heart is beating so loud, that you’re afraid she can hear it, your skin on fire and a lump starts to form in your throat as your lips form the words.

“I love you.”

You said it. You finally said, what you were trying to tell her for months now.

I love you, she said it. Your worst fear had come true. Don’t get it wrong, this was exactly what you wanted, but at the same time it was what you feared. You feared your feelings for her. You loved laying in her arms and being around her, without having to talk about anything, without having to tell her how you feel. But it all changed, because she said the three words, that you couldn’t say. The words that would change everything between the two of you. You knew that she expected a response. Y/n obviously wanted to know how you felt and all you wanted to do was tell her you loved her too, but you couldn’t, so instead you said:

“I know right, how could you not.” And you fake-grinned.

You bit your tongue as soon as the words left your mouth. She had just handed you her heart and you made a joke about it. A joke. Literally the worst thing you could do… and the last thing you wanted to do.

You could see y/n’s demeanor change. You caught a glimpse of pain in the e/c of her eyes.

She continued.

“I don’t know if you get what I’m trying to tell you, Wanda, but I love you. I like, love you.”

Of course you knew what she meant, you were just playing dumb and all that because you couldn’t deal with you own feelings. You played it dumb and you hated yourself for it.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“You don’t feel the same.” She said and she looked down before meeting your eyes again.

You could now clearly see the hurt in her eyes. Before you met y/n, e/c eyes were just e/c, but her eyes are the warmest eyes you have ever seen. They are soft and ever-comforting. Whenever you would cry, you would find comfort in them. Whenever she was sad it broke your heart. And your heart did break, seeing her like this. The fact that you caused it made you feel even worse.

“I, I’m sorry Y/n. I love you too, but not like that.”

You loved her, but you couldn’t be with her. You had forbidden yourself to fall in love with her.

“I get it.”

Y/n let go of your hands and turned around to open a drawer to get a cutting board. She grabbed the mushrooms and started to slice them.

Everything inside you was hurting, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. You didn’t blame Wanda for feeling like that, though. You understood it. You yourself had come to terms with your feelings a while ago. You loved her and you knew you could never love anyone as much as you loved Wanda, you wanted to be with her. Even though Wanda did not reciprocate your feelings, you were still happy you told her about yours. At least you can now live without constantly wondering if she felt the same about you.

After the two of you finish preparing dinner, you put on your coat.

“Don’t wait for me for dinner. You guys can start without me.”

You leave the compound, stepping into the cold air. You get into your car and drive as far from the compound as possible. You try to hold back your tears as you reach the edge of Central Park. You step out of your car and with your hands in your pockets you enter the park. The wind stings in your eyes and you finally let out the tears. You walk around the entire park while tears stream down your face. After two hours of crying, you numbly walk back to your car. You sit in your car for a moment, your eyes thick and red. Even your nose turned red under the cold outside. You take a detour back to the compound and arrive at around 2 a.m., you lock your car and open the door of the building. The warmth of the air inside hugs you as you walk to the kitchen. You see that Wanda left you a plate with pasta on the counter and you put it in the microwave. Five minutes go bye as you stare at the clock counting down. You grab your hot plate and almost burn your fingers. You sit down on the couch and turn on a random tv show, while eating your pasta.

After you finish your pasta, you fall asleep on the couch.

*** You wake up by Natasha’s voice. She is standing next to the couch.

“Hey y/n, wake up sleepyhead.”

You grumble some noises and shift on the couch. “I heard you come in last night, it was quite late. Are you okay?” Natasha asks you with a slight worry in her voice.

Anyone could have slept on the couch, that didn’t mean anything was off. Natasha knew better, though. Where the rest may have thought you drank too much and had a hangover, Natasha knew better. You never drink. Your brother was involved in a car accident with a drunk driver and he didn’t survive. Therefore, you didn’t drink any alcohol. Natasha and Wanda were the only people that knew about the accident.

You yawn before slowly opening your eyes, but the second you do, you remember everything that happened last night. Your eyes fill with tears as you start to cry and Natasha pulls you into a hug, sitting next to you on the couch.

“Shh, let it all out darling, I’m here.” Natasha comforts you. You cry and your salt tears stain her shirt. When you’re done crying Natasha lets go of you and gets you a glass of water. You take a few sips.

“Where’s the rest?” You ask her with a hoarse voice. “Fury called them in for a mission. We have the compound to ourselves for the next few days.”

You nod your head and to be honest you’re happy that you don’t have to see Wanda for a while, because you’re not sure if you would be able to keep it dry. You slowly sit up straight and take a few deep breaths, before standing up and walking to your room. You open the door and see a framed photo on your bed. It is a picture of you and Wanda at a funfair. You had put ice cream on the tip of Wanda’s and were just about to clean it with your thumb when the picture was taken. You had never seen this picture before, so you assume Wanda must have had it all this time and after last night she decided to give it to you. There was a little note next to the picture.

We keep this love in a photograph We made these memories for ourselves Where our eyes are never closing Hearts are never broken And time's forever frozen, still

So you can keep me Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet

- Ed Sheeran

I wanted you to have this.

Wanda

Your stomach twisted as you read the words. You let the picture slip out your hand and rushed to the bathroom. Kneeling down next to the toilet you throw up. Nat heard you and immediately rushed to you. She stood behind you, holding your hair up and softly humming a Russian song. When you emptied your stomach, Natasha got your glass of water. As Natasha left the bathroom, you sat down leaning your back against the wall. You pulled up your knees and with your hands in your hair, you closed your eyes. You felt like crying, but there were no more tears left to cry, you were exhausted. When Natasha came back, she ordered you’d take a shower and then go to bed. You followed her orders and snuggled into your blankets. You were cold, even though your blankets were thick, you probably had a fever. Great. You eventually fell asleep and woke up a few hours later, when Nat came to check on you.

“Hey y/n. How are you feeling?” She sat down on the edge of your bed with two pills in her hand. You took the pills with a sip of water and sighed.

“Better, thanks. The sleep served me well.”

“I was thinking about watching a movie, wanna join me?”

“Yeah, sure.” You got out of your bed, put on your robe and put on a pair of fluffy socks. You walked to the couch, where Natasha was waiting for you with a blanket on her lap. You sat down next to her, laying your head on her lap as she put the blanket over you. You looked up at her, cracking a smile. She smiled back and started the movie.

*** A few days had passed and you were feeling a lot better already. Well, physically. Your mental health was still a mess and you would often burst out into tears, while doing the simplest things like taking out the trash. Today was a good day though. You were able to think about Wanda without breaking down. You were walking on the grass around the compound, taking in the silence. Natasha was out doing groceries, so you had the entire compound for yourself. You decided to take advantage of the situation and went back in to find the piano in the corner of the common room. You sat down on the piano stool and let your fingers rest on the keys. You played a few songs and sang along. After a few minutes you were so lost in the music, that you didn’t hear her enter the room. The song you played was about her and you pretended you were singing the song to her. If only she could hear you…

While the rest was still outside, discussing the mission, you entered the compound. It was a tough mission, especially with all the things that were going through your head, your conversation with y/n playing over and over again. You had already gone inside, headed for your room, so you could give your tired body a shower and change into some clean clothes. You are halfway down the hallway when you hear music coming from the common room. Curious, you open the doors.

There she is, Y/n, playing the piano while singing along. Her hair tucked behind her ear. Slightly flowing on her back as she presses the piano keys. Her eyes closed as her clear voice echoes through the room. The music is soft to your ears until you listen to what she’s singing.

You recognize the song, Y/n would occasionally hum the song with a sad smile on her face. Sometimes she would even let a tear stroll down her cheek. Now that you heard the lyrics that belonged to the tune, you finally understood the sadness in her smile.

I can’t stop these silent tears from rolling down

You and I both have to hide on the outside

Where I can’t be yours and you can’t be mine

But I know this, we got a love that is hopeless

Why can’t I hold you in the street

Why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor

I wish that it could be like that

Why can’t it be like that

…

Cause I’m yours

And you would always be.

You knew Wanda couldn’t be with you, but it didn’t stop you from hoping. Hoping and dreaming of a future with her.

What you didn’t know was that Wanda felt the exact same, that she was in the same room as you, hearing every word that left your lips. She took in every word like they were hers.

Why can’t I say that I’m in love

I wanna shout it from the rooftops

Tears formed in Wanda’s eyes and she wiped them away. She stormed out of the room, sight blurry as she undressed, stepped in the shower and tried to wash off her feelings. The hot water burned on her skin, but she figured she deserved it. She broke your heart, simply because she couldn’t confess to herself that her crush was a girl. A girl.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, merging with the water coming from the showerhead.

And then it hit her. She didn’t just like any girl. She liked you and you weren’t just someone she could stop herself from falling in love with. She could no longer deny her feelings about you. No. She loved you and all she wanted was to be with you. She missed the warm hugs you would welcome her with after another exhausting mission. The soft kisses you would leave on her cheeks. The ice cream you would keep in the freezer for whenever she missed her brother. The sitcoms you would watch with her in silence. She had to be with you.

Wanda quickly finished showering and put on some shorts with a red hoodie on top, matching her copper locks. Her wet hair unbrushed, bound together in a low messy bun. She took a quick look in the mirror, her cheeks slightly red from the warmth, caused by the nerves she felt. What if she had ruined her chance on you? What if you didn’t want her anymore? She figured there was only one way to find out and she went to your room. You weren’t in your room, so she went to the main living room. You weren’t behind the piano anymore. Instead, you were now in the kitchen, talking to the rest, laughing. You looked gorgeous. Wanda honestly didn’t think nor care about the company. She couldn’t stop herself…

You were talking to Steve when the redhead in the corner of your eye caught your attention. She was just as pretty as usual in her simple shorts and hoodie. So pretty that it hurts. You guided your attention back to your conversation with Steve when you felt a hand on your lower arm. Wanda pulled you away from Steve and took you to the living room. She pulled you into a shadowed nook and pressed you against the wall. You looked into her emerald eyes wondering what was going on, but just when you were about to ask her, you felt soft lips touching yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat as you were completely starstruck. What was she doing? Wanda didn’t like you… right? You shoved aside your doubts, you just wanted to feel her. Enjoy the moment for as long as it would last. You cupped Wanda’s face with your hands and pulled her into another kiss, this time a more intimate one. Wanda’s soft lips clashed with yours as you warmed up inside. Wanda put one hand in your neck and another around your waist, pulling you closer. This was all she ever wanted, it felt so right. Wanda opened her mouth for you and you slipped your tong into her mouth, your tongs slowly moving around each other in perfect harmony.

You gently pulled back, slightly out of breath.

“Wow, I thought you didn’t like me?” You quietly said, not wanting the others to overhear you.

“I never didn’t like you. I just wasn’t ready to admit it to myself, but I am now. I love you and I never want to lose you. I was a fool to deny it. I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” And she looked down to the floor.

A tear strolled down her check and you gently wiped it away with your thumb, your hand resting on her cheek.

“Wanda, honey. There’s nothing to forgive.”

Her eyes went up to search yours and you pulled Wanda into a soft kiss, reassuring her that there was nothing to worry about. You had never stopped loving her.

And you couldn’t imagine that you would ever.

Songs: Photograph - Ed Sheeran

Secret Love Song - Little mix

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda x reader #wanda x fem reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #the avengers #wanda maximoff

155 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 3 years

Text

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒥𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒

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

Word Count: 14,637

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

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

* * * * *

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

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

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

That was how she liked it.

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

She wore pants.

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

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

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

“Chop it all off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Effie nodded firmly. “Ready.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

“225 Mercer Street, Unit 13.”

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

Matthew was officially confused. “The Starbucks complex?”

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

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

***

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

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

Matthew walked in.

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

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

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

Effie nodded her head.

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

Effie looked scared for a moment. “Tip?”

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

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

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

***

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

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

“The Ottawa Senators,” he replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you to take me home.”

“Effie—” he reached out to touch her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it finally hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Effie…” he said uneasily.

“There were seven.”

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

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

***

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

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

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

“For who?”

“Effie Schaffer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you’re her friend.”

“Yes.”

“Because you care about her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“Can I come in?” he asked.

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

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

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

“So you know it’s a thing now.”

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

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

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

“I should be the one apologizing—”

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

“How do you know?” Matthew asked.

“Because you’re a nice person.”

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

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

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

Matthew smiled too.

***

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

“Less,” Annica giggled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Effie’s moving out?!”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

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

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

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

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

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

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

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

She went in for a hug.

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

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

“Whiskey.”

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

“Pretty much,” Matthew giggled out.

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

“Do you want to try some?”

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

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

“A virgin drink?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

“Uh…it’s called grinding.”

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

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

Fuck.

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

“Let me go for y—”

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

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

***

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

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

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

“Um, water please.”

“You driving tonight, darling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t drink.”

“Wanna start?”

“No,” she said firmly.

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

Effie furrowed her brows. “Like what?”

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

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

“Who the fuck are you?”

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

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

“Are you sure, Matthew?”

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

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

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

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

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

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

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

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

“Never, Effie. Never.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

FOLLOW REQUEST: effieschaffer7

You have accepted effieschaffer7’s friend request.

Effie?????

Hi Matthew

U made an insta?

Is it okay if I follow you? Annica helped me

Yes of course it’s okay if u follow me

I am going to post my baking I think

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

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

I’m gonna make sure Levi drives us home then

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it good?”

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

***

“Piiiiiiivvvooottttt!!!!!”

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

“Piiiiiiiiivvv—”

“Monahan!”

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

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

“Am not!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He furrowed his brows slightly. “Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly.

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

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“Of course I like you, Effie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

Matthew nodded his head. “Would you?”

Effie nodded her head.

***

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

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

“Hmm?” he looked down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

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

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

“Matthew?” she looked up at him.

“Hmm?” he was already looking down.

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

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

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

He knew what was coming.

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

***

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

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

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

She stood on her tip-toes and kissed him.

***

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

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

It was always initiated by her.

***

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

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

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

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

“I figured as much.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

***

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit,” Mark said sternly.

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

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

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

“Effie.”

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

“Please don’t tell me—”

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

“You can’t fault me for thinking it.”

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

“And then?”

Matthew grumbled. “And then I moved.”

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

***

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

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

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

She punched him. Hard.

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

“M—M—Matthew,” she stuttered out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

“Matthew?” he heard a soft voice.

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

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

“Effie, I told you it was alri—”

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

“Effie—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know I can,” she nodded her head.

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

Effie nodded her head.

***

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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diegos-butt · 3 years

Text

Unnoticed (chapter four)

Summary: He had watch her grown up. He had seen her transform into a beautiful woman, with a strong will but insecurities. Despite being away from time to time, he had fallen for her, hard. She on the other hand, had seen him become a big, strong man. But deep down she knew he had a soft side. She had fallen, hard, for him too. Another thing they have in common? The believe that the other will never feel the same. Will their feelings for each other always stay unnoticed?

Captain Daniel Syverson x Kathy Davis (plus size/curvy/thick OFC)

Warnings: attempted winking, filthy thoughts. Just the usual guys, no worries.

Wordcount: 5.9k

A/N: I hope you like this ✨

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three

•••

I had been trying to distract myself all week after the little incident with Sy. Yes, I had declared it as a little incident, and I had been avoiding talking about it. Which, obviously, failed since I didn’t show up for the Friday night dinner at the pub, so my phone had exploded with texts from Brianna, Holly and even the guys. I assured them I was fine and I just had a headache.

Brianna and Holly didn’t buy it and they came to visit me on Saturday. They tried to tell me Sy didn’t meant what he said, that he just had misphrased his words. I really wanted to believe them, but the self-doubt in me wouldn’t allow it.

The week passed slowly, I kept myself busy with work and chores. On Thursday I had literally finished all my work for the week, so Brianna insisted I’d take a day off from work the day after.

“Seriously Kathy, you are going to take a day off tomorrow. Relax a bit. Talk to Sy. Clear the air,” Brianna said as I walked inside her office for no reason for the fifth time that day.

“Fine, I will take a day off, but I will not talk to Sy,” I answered and sat down in a chair in front of her desk. But maybe I should? He has been texting me every day. Maybe I should hear him out?

“Look, if you don’t talk to him tomorrow, I will make sure it happens this weekend. And I’ll be there. I doubt you want to discuss your feelings for him with me next to you,” Brianna smirked. The minx.

“You’re threatening me now?” I laughed but I knew she was dead serious. “Maybe, maybe I will talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

“It is not a yes, yet, but I’ll do for now.”

Soon after our conversation ended, we both went home. Feeling restless, I spend my Thursday night cleaning the house. That did mean I had the entire Friday to do nothing, to relax and sleep in. Well, that’s what I thought.

I woke up to the loud ringing of my doorbell. Confused I sat up, I wasn’t expecting anyone. Slowly I walked to the front door, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I unlocked and opened the door to see a large man in front of me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Sy.

“Good morning darlin’, Brianna told me ya had a day off so I thought we could have breakfast,” he said and held up a basket filled with different kinds of bread, fruit, and other delicious food.

Even more confused I kept staring at him. He cocked his eyebrow and gestured me to let him in.

“Oh, yeah sorry, come in,” I muttered and let him walk past me. Suddenly I realized I was in my pyjamas, a cami top and shorts. It was a little revealing, but since I grew up with him, he had seen me in my bikini multiple times, so I didn’t care.

I watched Sy march into my kitchen and unloading the basket on the small table. He stood with his back to me, and I nearly drooled. That ass is illegal. Really fucking illegal. That back also. God, it just begs me to leave scratch marks with my fingernails on it.

Sy coughed and I realized I had been staring a little too obvious. Feeling my cheeks heat up, I walked towards him.

“Having breakfast is nice, but why on earth did you have to show up this early?” I pointed at the clock on the wall.

“It’s not early. It is already 8.30am,” Sy said and pulled out a chair for me. I sat down, and his fingers grazed my shoulders softly.

“That’s early. Especially on a day off. I’m allowed to sleep until 10am, at least.” I yawned excessively and watched Sy sat down opposite of me. He chuckled and poured me a cup of coffee. “You even brought coffee?”

“Figured ya needed it, to wake up,” he said and poured a cup for himself too. I took a sip, and it was delicious. Immediately I felt a little more awake, and a bit more aware of how I looked. I placed the cup down again and tried to fix my hair the best I could.

Sy had started eating, so I did too. We ate in silence, and I tried to make eye contact with him, but he kept looking away.

“Sy, why are you here?” I asked after we finished eating. I hated arguing, but I hated not expressing emotions even more. Kind of ironic, I know.

“Well, I think this not speaking to me thing of ya has lasted long enough,” he started. “So, I thought we could talk about it. And since ya let me in, and haven’t scratched out my eyes, I think ya wanna talk too.”

I took the last sip of my coffee and pushed a piece of pineapple around on my plate. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” Sy said softly. His eyes met mine and for a second, I thought I saw he was a bit scared. What the hell are you scared of?

“Okay, maybe I have overreacted a bit. Maybe,” I whispered.

“And I should have phrased my words differently. I like being around ya and I prefer your company over everyone else’s.” He grabbed my hands and held them tight. My heart skipped a few beats and a smile formed on my face.

“I like being around you too captain,” I smiled. “But maybe don’t phrase your words like that again, okay?” He squeezed my hands one more time and let them go again.

“I’ll try my best darlin’,” he winked. Well, he tried to wink. I snorted out loud and nearly knocked the coffee cup off the table.

“You’re really doing this on purpose now don’t you?” I said and wiped a tear away that was rolling down my cheek. “You’re really so stubborn you’re not going to admit you can’t wink?”

“Be careful darlin’, you’re quite stubborn yourself,” he laughed and stood up to clear the table. I helped him and together we placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

“So, what are ya plans for today?” Sy asked while he was leaning against the counter.

“I don’t have plans honestly, you?”

“I was planning on helping my momma in the garden. Ya wanna help?” he said. I thought I could sense an undertone of uncertainty, but it was gone the second the sentence was over. Spending the day with you. In the garden. While you’re probably going to sweat. Oh god what if he takes his shirt off. Kat, keep it together.

“Yes, of course! I just need to get dressed, I’ll be back in a second,” I said and started to walk away but turned around as I heard Sy speak up.

“No need darlin’, ya could wear this,” Sy smirked.

“Very funny captain.” I shook my head and walked out of the kitchen, but before I was out of the room, I looked over my shoulder. I caught Sy looking at my ass and licking his lips. Quickly I looked in front of me again and walked to my bedroom, giggling. Please tell me I am not just seeing what I want to see. He really checked me out right?

I quickly freshened up and got dressed. I wore a pair of jeans that accentuated my ass even better. If he’s gonna stare at it, might put them of their best display.

Sy was waiting for me on the couch, he stood up as soon as I walked in the room. He smiled at me and followed me to the front door. I locked up behind us and he guided me to this truck. Sy opened the door for me, and gratefully I climbed in.

During the short drive to his parents’ house, we talked like nothing had happened. I was happy about it; I wasn’t one to keep hanging on to the past. Soon, he parked the car in front of the house. We stepped out, only to meet his parents.

“Kathy! Sweety, how lovely to see you!” Sy’s mother said and gave me a kiss on my cheek.

“It’s really nice to see you too!” I said and nodded at Sy’s father. You could easily tell they were Sy’s parents. He had his mother’s eyes and nose, while he had his father’s physique.

“I would love to chat with you, but we are on our way to meet some friends. We will catch up soon, okay?” Sy’s mother continued.

“I thought we were gonna work in the garden?” Sy asked, and I could see the visible confusion on his face. I might be crazy but are his parents trying to set us up now too?

“Yes, but Jane called if we would like to have lunch. Who are we to decline such a lovely offer? But you and Kathy could work in the garden!” she said, and I noticed Sy’s father walk towards his car. Was he laughing?

“Come sweetheart, let’s go,” Sy’s father said and held the car door open for his wife. She gave Sy a kiss on the cheek and stepped in the car. Sy’s father did so too and started the car. Before he drove off, Sy’s mother opened her window. “Have fun you two!” she yelled and winked at us. Definitely trying to set us up.

“At least your mom can wink,” I deadpanned.

“Oh, shut up,” Sy groaned, and I laughed out loud. He turned around and walked around the house to the garden, I followed close behind.

“So, what do we need to do captain?” I asked Sy as we walked into the large garden. Most of it covered with grass, the areas on the outside were filled with different types of flowers and plants.

“We need to remove the weeds between the plants and flowers,” Sy said and walked into the little shed to collect some tools for us to use.

After an hour of working hard, pulling out weeds, I started to get a little tired. Sy and I didn’t talk much while we worked side by side. I did look at him from time to time. I watched his big arms pulling the weeds out effortless and I noticed he had started to sweat a little. The sight of it made me nearly faint. Sy also let out a few grunts every now and then. Are you trying to make me jump you Sy?

“You want something to drink?” I asked Sy as I was starting to get a bit thirsty. Not only thirsty for something to drink though.

“Yeah, thanks darlin’,” he answered and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

I nodded and stood up. I proceeded to walk to Sy’s cabin, which was practically hidden in the far back of the garden between trees. I wasn’t even three steps away from Sy when I stepped on an uneven patch of grass. My ankle twisted and before I knew it, I was on the ground.

“Ouch!” I murmured and grabbed my ankle.

“What did ya do?” Sy said as he kneeled beside me. He placed one of his hands on my shoulder and looked at me worried.

“Just sprained my ankle, it’s no big deal,” I said. Sy held out his hand for me and helped me get up. I hissed in pain when I tried to stand on the sprained ankle.

“Yeah, right, no big deal uh?” Suddenly Sy lifted me up bridal style, and I let out a squeal.

“Sy, what are you doing?!” I clasped my arms around his neck, worried for a second, he might drop me, but then I remembered he was more than capable of carrying me.

He didn’t answer me, he just placed me on one of the lounge chairs and walked inside his parents’ house to grab a pillow from the couch. In mere seconds he returned and placed the pillow under my sprained ankle. He had also bought back two bottles of water and handed me one.

“Ya stay here and let that ankle rest for a bit. I might not be able to wink, but you can’t walk apparently,” he mocked.

I laughed and watched him walk away, to finish our work in the garden. While sipping from my water I admired him. His shirt now sticking to his body from the sweat, accentuating his physique even more. That man sweating and grunting above me? I might not survive that. Not that I would complain though. Maybe we should start with a kiss. Oh my god I wanna kiss him so badly. Is he licking his lips? Sy don’t fucking tease me.

After 30 minutes of me obviously checking out Sy, he stopped working. I guessed he was finished. His eyes locked with mine and we both smiled. He walked over to me, and I sat up a bit straighter.

“How’s that ankle doing?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s alright. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

“How can ya know when ya haven’t stood on it since it happened?” Sy cocked his eyebrow. He did have a point, but I wasn’t one to admit I was in pain.

Sy held his hand out for me, I took it and he helped me stand up. Once I stood on both feet again, it was obvious my ankle still hurt.

“Ya are clearly not in pain anymore,” Sy pointed out and chuckled. “Come on, I’ll wrap it for ya. I have an emergency kit in my cabin.” Next thing I knew I was in his arms again, bridal style.

“Sy! You know I can walk!” I yelped and wrapped my arms around his sweaty neck. “Also, you’re sweaty.”

“Ya can’t walk with that ankle. And don’t pretend ya mind I’m a bit sweaty darlin’, I saw ya staring at me.” I felt my cheeks burn and was lost for words for a moment.

Sy carried me inside his cabin, he even managed to open the door while still carrying me. He walked inside his bedroom and placed me on his huge bed. He went into his bathroom and returned with the emergency kit.

“Come here,” Sy said and kneeled in front of me, placing my foot on his knee. He carefully started wrapping my ankle with a bandage. His large hands managed to make my foot look small in his hand, and I let out a giggle.

A few minutes later he was done. He stood up again and pointed at my jeans. They had grass stains on it from my fall. “If ya want, ya could wear some of my sweats,” he offered.

“Very nice offer captain, but in case you haven’t noticed, my ass won’t fit into those,” I smirked.

“Yeah right, I have a big ass too,” he huffed and turned his back to me to wiggle his ass.

“Oh, you do, you really do. But mine is still bigger,” I laughed. Sy shook his head and a playful smile formed on his face.

“I wouldn’t mind helping ya change into my sweats though, maybe they’ll fit with my help,” Sy smirked.

“You’re just trying to get me out of my pants or what?” I laughed. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he shook his head again and grabbed to emergency kit. He walked inside the bathroom, leaving me alone on the bed.

I reached down to touch my ankle. He had wrapped it nicely. I was about to retrieve my hand when I bumped into something underneath the bed. Curious about what it was, I grabbed it. It was a box I had never seen before. I hesitated to look inside, but then the lid popped open. My letters were inside. The letters I had send him while he was away. He kept my letters? Underneath is bed?

A cough caught my attention, and I saw Sy standing awkwardly in front of me.

“You kept my letters?” I asked him, still a bit surprised.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I like them. I like reading them. They are kinda comforting,” he said and scratched the back of his head. I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable. “I sometimes read them before I go to sleep,” Sy continued.

“That is really sweet Sy,” I said and stood up. Quickly his hand grabbed my elbow, to make sure I wouldn’t have to stand on my sprained ankle. His eyes locked with mine, and suddenly my heart was beating faster than ever before.

We stood in front of each other, unsure of what to say next. Awkwardly, I looked at the ground until he lifted my chin up with his finger.

“You know what? Fuck it. Kat, darlin’, would ya like to go on a date with me?”

The whole week was dreadful. Ever since Friday I felt like an idiot, and everyone told me so. Friday night dinner at the pub was not she same without her. As soon as I had finished my meal, I went home. I had hoped she would’ve showed up so we could talk it out. Unfortunately, she didn’t. Kat also didn’t answer my calls or messages. I hated texting, but I tried it anyway.

Working with the guys had been quite annoying the last few days. They used every opportunity to call me out of my actions and told me I just had to go see Kat. They thought she would talk to me if I’d just show up. I had thought about it, and Tuesday late in the afternoon I drove to her house. I waited in my truck but when she came home, I could tell by her movements she was not in the mood to talk. Sighing, I drove back home.

Now, on Thursday, I was starting to get fed up with Kat still ignoring me. I promised myself I would go see her tonight. That was until I got a call.

“Brianna?” I answered the phone.

“Sy, hi. Thank god you picked up,” Brianna spoke.

“Why wouldn’t I pick up?”

“You never pick up, but never mind. The reason I’m calling is Kat, obviously,” she continued.

“Is she alright?” I asked.

“She is fine but could do better. That is actually why I’m calling. I think it is time you two talk this thing out.”

“I’ve been trying, but she wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I’m gonna go over tonight.” I mean, I should, right?

“Good! You definitely should go see her. You know how stubborn she can be,” Brianna laughed. “But I just tried to talk some sense into her, and I think she is ready to talk to you. She is taking the day off tomorrow, so maybe you could see her then?”

“Yeah sure. Thanks for calling Bri.” After we said goodbye, I hung up the phone. Guess it’s better if I go see her tomorrow, maybe we could spend the day together?

The next morning, I woke up early, really early. I twisted and turned in bed, but I couldn’t sleep again. I wanted to see Kat and talk it out. She couldn’t stay mad forever, right? With a groan I climbed out of bed and took a shower. While I was showering, an idea popped up in my head. Maybe I could surprise her with breakfast?

Satisfied with my plan, I quickly got dressed and went into the kitchen to search for breakfast food. I opened the fridge, and noticed it was nearly empty. Shit. Luckily, I knew I could find everything I needed in my momma’s kitchen.

A few minutes later I stood in the kitchen in my parents’ house, a small perk of living in the cabin in the garden. Hopefully, I would have a house of my own soon. I better make this right with Kat if I wanna buy a house with her.

“What are you doing honey?” I heard my mom’s voice behind me while I had collected a nice pile of food.

“Uhm, grabbing breakfast,” I answered.

“That’s a lot of food for one person, even for you. Spill it,” she said with a stern voice.

Knowing my mom, I knew she would keep me here until I told her the truth. “Made a mistake, so I’m gonna make it right.” She simply raised her eyebrow as she handed me a basket to place the food in. “Fine, I need to make something right with Kat.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you better make it right indeed if you ever intend on marrying her,” she spoke while she helped me fill the basket. “I like that girl, and so do you honey. Don’t mess it up with her, would you?”

After a monologue from my mom why I had to make it right with Kat, I finally managed to leave the house and drive to Kat’s after I promised to help her in the garden later that day. A little nervous I parked the car in front of Kat’s house. I stepped out and grabbed the basket, slowly I walked to her front door. What if she doesn’t want to see me?

I rang the doorbell and knocked on her door. Well, I don’t care if she doesn’t wanna see me, we are gonna talk this out right now. If she wants or not. The door opened, and a very sleepy Kat appeared in front of me. She looked adorable while she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” she asked me.

“Good morning darlin’, Brianna told me ya had a day off so I thought we could have breakfast,” I said and held up the basket filled with different kinds of bread, fruit, and other delicious food. Confused she started at me, I cocked my eyebrow and she stepped aside to let me in.

“Oh, yeah sorry, come in,” she muttered, and I walked past her. She was in her pyjamas, a little cami top and shorts. Ya teasing me on purpose? I tried to not stare at her cleavage too much as I was passing her. I wanted to take her in my arms, and let my hands wander over her body. To prevent myself from grabbing her right there, I walked into the kitchen and unloaded the basket on her little table.

After I was done, I turned around and saw her eyes were glued to my back. With a simple cough, I gained her attention again and she walked up to me. Was she checking me out?

“Having breakfast is nice, but why on earth did you have to show up this early?” Kat pointed at the clock on the wall.

“It’s not early. It is already 8.30am,” I said and pulled out a chair for her. She sat down, and I couldn’t resist to touch her shoulders softly. Just let me place kisses all over ya soft skin darlin’.

“That’s early. Especially on a day off. I’m allowed to sleep until 10am, at least.” She yawned excessively. I chuckled and sat down opposite of her. I grabbed the thermos and poured her a cup of coffee. “You even brought coffee?”

“Figured ya needed it, to wake up,” I said and poured a cup for myself too. We both started eating, in silence. I could tell she was looking for eye contact, but I wasn’t quite sure of what to say yet, so I kept avoiding it.

“Sy, why are you here?” she asked after we finished eating. Well, here we go.

“Well, I think this not speaking to me thing of ya has lasted long enough,” I started. “So, I thought we could talk about it. And since ya let me in, and haven’t scratched out my eyes, I think ya wanna talk too.”

She took the last sip of her coffee and played with a piece of fruit on her plate. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” I whispered. Do I tell her what I feel now? Or are we gonna play pretend for a little longer?

“Okay, maybe I have overreacted a bit. Maybe,” she whispered.

“And I should have phrased my words differently. I like being around ya and I prefer your company over everyone else’s.” I grabbed her hands and held them tight. Her large hands felt good in mine, like a perfect fit. A smile formed on her face. Okay playing pretend for a little while longer it is. I didn’t want to ruin something when I wasn’t sure she felt the same, but I wasn’t sure for how long I could keep this up.

“I like being around you too captain,” she smiled. “But maybe don’t phrase your words like that again, okay?” I squeezed her hands one more time and let them go again.

“I’ll try my best darlin’,” I winked, well knowing I couldn’t. I knew she would laugh about it. and I was right, she snorted out loud and nearly knocked the coffee cup off the table.

“You’re really doing this on purpose now don’t you?” she said and wiped a tear away that was rolling down her cheek. “You’re really so stubborn you’re not going to admit you can’t wink?”

“Be careful darlin’, you’re quite stubborn yourself,” I laughed and stood up to clear the table. She helped me and together we placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

“So, what are ya plans for today?” I asked while leaning against the counter. Ya better have none.

“I don’t have plans honestly, you?”

“I was planning on helping my momma in the garden. Ya wanna help?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if she would want to help, but I just wanted to spend time with her without it being forced or feel awkward.

“Yes, of course! I just need to get dressed, I’ll be back in a second,” she said and started to walk away. Get dressed? Ya better don’t wear more than this. I’d prefer ya clothes on the floor.

“No need darlin’, ya could wear this,” I smirked. A little teasing wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Very funny captain.” She shook her head and walked out of the kitchen. I watched her walk away, admiring her ass and thinking about how I’d want to slap it. Wait, did she just saw me staring at her ass? Oh, who cares. She has a nice ass, so I am obliged to look at it.

I waited on her couch, and a few moments later she returned. She wore a tight pair of jeans, hugging her figure and making her behind look even better. Her ass would look better naked though.

She smiled at me as I stood up and followed her to the front door. She locked up, and we walked to my truck. I opened the door for her and helped her get in.

While chatting, I drove home. It felt like nothing ever happened, which I was glad about. After a couple of minutes, I parked the car in front of the house. I immediately saw my mom and dad come out of the house. Oh no.

“Kathy! Sweety, how lovely to see you!” My mom said and gave Kat a kiss on her cheek. She better not embarrass me in front of Kat.

“It’s really nice to see you too!” Kat answered and gave my dad a nod. My parents had always liked Kat, and they had told me many times. At one point, I thought my mom would force me to marry her. Not that I would mind marrying her.

“I would love to chat with you, but we are on our way to meet some friends. We will catch up soon, okay?” my mom continued. They did not have any plans today. Are they trying to set us up now too?

“I thought we were gonna work in the garden?” I asked confused.

“Yes, but Jane called if we would like to have lunch. Who are we to decline such a lovely offer? But you and Kathy could work in the garden!” she said, and I noticed my dad walk towards his car. Was he trying to supress a laugh?

“Come sweetheart, let’s go,” my dad said to my mom and held the car door open for her. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and stepped in the car. My father started the car and wanted to drive off, but my mom opened the window before he could. “Have fun you two!” she yelled and winked at us. Oh, come on.

“At least your mom can wink,” Kat deadpanned.

“Oh, shut up,” I groaned, and Kat laughed out loud. I turned around and walked around the house to the garden, Kat followed close behind.

“So, what do we need to do captain?” she asked me as we walked into the large garden. Most of it covered with grass, the areas on the outside were filled with different types of flowers and plants my mother had planted over the years.

“We need to remove the weeds between the plants and flowers,” I said and walked into the little shed to collect some tools for us to use.

@We worked next to each other for the next hour. We didn’t talk but, it was comfortable. I watched her whenever she couldn’t see. She looked pretty, as always. She licked her lips every now and then, almost like she was begging me to kiss her.

“You want something to drink?” she asked and pulled me out of my thoughts. Yeah, I’m thirsty but not only for a drink darlin’.

“Yeah, thanks darlin’,” I answered and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

She nodded and looked at me. She walked to my cabin, but before she could reach it, I saw how she twisted her ankle and fell.

“Ouch!” she murmured and grabbed her ankle.

“What did ya do?” I said as he kneeled beside her as fast as I could. One of my hands found its way to her shoulder, the other hovered above her ankle.

“Just sprained my ankle, it’s no big deal,” she said. I held out my hand for her and helped her get up. Immediately, she hissed in pain when she tried to stand on the sprained ankle.

“Yeah, right, no big deal uh?” I spoke. No way she was going to walk right now. She needed to give her ankle some rest. I lifted her up bridal style and she let out a squeal.

“Sy, what are you doing?!” She wrapped her arms around tightly around my neck. If ya wanna choke me, let’s do that in a different situation darlin’. I might let ya.

I didn’t feel like she needed an answer to her question. Instead, I placed her down on one of the lounge chairs. I quickly walked inside afterwards and grabbed a pillow from the couch. I also grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge. When I came back, she was still seated on the lounge chair. Good girl. I was afraid she might have tried to stand up again.

“Ya stay here and let that ankle rest for a bit. I might not be able to wink, but you can’t walk apparently,” I mocked. She laughed, and I walked away to finish the work while chugging down the bottle of water.

It was hot and I started to sweat more and more. I wanted to take a nice, cold shower. Maybe I could persuade her of taking the shower with me? Shaking the thought off, I focused on pulling out the weeds.

After 30 minutes I was done. I had noticed Kat had been looking at me the entire time. That has to be a good sign, right? I looked at her and our eyes met, quickly I walked over to her.

“How’s that ankle doing?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s alright. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” Kat answered.

“How can ya know when ya haven’t stood on it since it happened?” I cocked my eyebrow. She hadn’t stood up since I had laid her down there, there now no way she could know the pain was gone.

I held my hand out for her. She took it and I helped me stand up. Once she was on both feet again, it was obvious that she was still in pain.

“Ya are clearly not in pain anymore,” I chuckled. “Come on, I’ll wrap it for ya. I have an emergency kit in my cabin.” I picked her up in my arms again, enjoying having her close to me.

“Sy! You know I can walk!” she yelped and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Also, you’re sweaty.”

“Ya can’t walk with that ankle. And don’t pretend you mind I’m a bit sweaty darlin’, I saw ya staring at me.” She gasped, and I chuckled. I carried her inside my cabin and sat her down on my bed. I walked into the bathroom and grabbed the emergency kit.

“Come here,” I said and kneeled in front of her. I gently grabbed her foot and placed it on my knee. I started to wrap her ankle carefully with a bandage. Her ankle was a little swollen, but it would be fine.

Soon, I was done. I stood up again and noticed the grass stains on her jeans. “If ya want, ya could wear some of my sweats,” I offered.

“Very nice offer captain, but in case you haven’t noticed, my ass won’t fit into those,” she smiled.

“Yeah right, I have a big ass too,” I huffed and turned my back to her to sway my ass.

“Oh, you do, you really do. But mine is still bigger,” she laughed. I laughed and shook my head.

“I wouldn’t mind helping ya change into my sweats though, maybe they’ll fit with my help,” I smirked. I really wouldn’t mind helping ya out of those jeans.

“You’re just trying to get me out of my pants or what?” she laughed. Yes. Fuck yes. I shook my head, grabbed the emergency kit, and walked back inside the bathroom.

I started in the mirror and noticed my sweaty face. I grabbed a washcloth, and quickly washed my face. Keep it together Sy. Or maybe I should just tell her. Maybe I could just ask her out? Don’t tell me she looks at me like that and not feel what I feel.

With a boost of confidence, I walked into the bedroom again. Kat is still on my bed, but this time she is holding the box with her letters. She was not supposed to find those. I coughed awkwardly, and she looked up.

“You kept my letters?” she asked me surprised.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I like them. I like reading them. They are kinda comforting,” I said and scratched the back of my head. “I sometimes read them before I go to sleep,” I continued.

“That is really sweet Sy,” she said and stood up. Seeing she was unsteady on her feet because of her ankle, I grabbed her elbow. Our eyes locked, and my heart skipped a beat. I thought I saw hope in her eyes.

We stood in front of each other, unsure of what to say next. Sy, it’s now or never. Just fuckin’ ask her. She was looking at the ground, so I lifted her chin up with my finger, making her look at me.

“You know what? Fuck it. Kat, darlin’, would ya like to go on a date with me?”

•••

> chapter five

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Better Man. ( Taehyung x OC)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 3 ~ The problem with marriage is this : it isn’t worth the pain of divorce.

Denial isn’t healthy.

But sometimes it helps you stay sane , at least long enough to get your act together. When you’re in denial, you kind of keep yourself together a bit. You process things a bit more slowly. Take your time examining the facts.

It helps you make a delayed but possibly more informed decision.

Impulsive decisions never end well.

So it’s good to stew in denial for a while ( a short while) and then slowly begin processing what happened, think about it, think how its gonna affect you and then make a choice.

Unfortunately for Taehyung and I... I wasn’t in denial.

Maybe I should have been.

The time between Taehyung turning up drunk and the me leaving the house was less than twelve hours. Taehyung showed up drunk and I just told him I was leaving. That we needed a break and I didn’t know when I’d be back.

Terrible choice.

In the first twelve hours, the hurt is so potent and strong , the wound so raw and fresh that you can’t think beyond the pain . Your instinct is to repay the pain, to retaliate and make the other party feel exactly what you’re feeling. So you think of the thing that would hurt them the most and you go ahead and do it.

Like move out of your shared home of eight years, take away the son he adored and possibly rip the ground right out from under his feet.

And then after the first twelve hours, reason begins to catch up.

I had wanted to go back.

I had wanted to go back to him but I was scared.

Scared that I was being weak.

That if I didn’t stick to the choice I made, Taehyung would forever see me as a pushover. That he would take it as some sick permission to do it all over again. That he’d just think I was too weak to walk out on him.

And i couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him hurting me and not facing the consequences of it. I just couldn’t.

So I stayed away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I worked on the seventh floor of a high rise in Gangnam, probably a twenty minute drive from Taehyung’s agency. It was an electronic/ tech company that dealt with everything from mobile phones to home fittings . As the assistant director of Marketing I dealt with branding and keeping up the image of the company. Annual budgets, endorsements, campaigns and what not.

I was good at it and i enjoyed it . everyone agreed that i did a good job because the numbers spoke for themselves. But I think the main reason I got the job was because I was married to the biggest brand ambassador in the country.

“ I need the reports on consumer trends for this month and I want to meet with Social media team before lunch. There’s a drop in our web traffic and that needs to be fixed.” I told my assistant, accepting the hot coffee and muffin that he held in his hand before moving to the corner office, my strides faltering just a bit when i noticed that someone was already inside. The figure had his back to me but I could vaguely recognize the broad shoulders and muscular arms.

“Mr. Jeon’s been waiting for about ten minutes now.” Mingyu said with a smile and I nodded.

“That’s fine , I’ll handle him.” I waved my assistant off and moved to the door, unlocking it and stepping in.

“Morning, Jang Mi.” He smiled, eyes flashing with ill concealed delight and I inhaled to calm myself down. .

I could already feel a headache coming on.

“Jungkook.” I said curtly. “ To what do I owe this very early visit?” I glanced at my table finally taking the bottle of champagne in the small ice bucket.

“Thought we’d celebrate you finally being free.” He grinned.

Jeon Jungkook was handsome, intelligent , and annoyingly good at everything he did.

At 34, He was one of the youngest CFO’s in the industry, and everything he touched turned to gold. I didn’t report to him and he had zero reasons to be in my office at any given time. But , unfortunately he had never gotten that particular memo.

“I’m not in the mood, Jungkook.” I sighed, moving to the back of my desk and dropping my bag on the small ottoman on the side and my keys in the desk. I plugged my phone into the cable on the side and then went to open the blinds.

“Come on... You know how sick I’ve been of two years of hearing ‘ I’m sorry, I’m married.’ .... you’re gonna have to come up with a better excuse the next time i ask you out.”

“No. No is a whole entire sentence that you should be able to accept.” I said evenly, fixing the cushions on the couch only to have him plop down on them immediately after.

“One date. Dinner anywhere you like. i can fly you to Paris if you want.... Macua? Jeju Do? Tell me what you want and I’ll get it done. ?”

i stared at him.

“I want you to fire Kang Yeseul from the Social Media team.” I said with a shrug.

He frowned.

“The new girl? Why?”

“She’s been posting nudes that she took in my office when I was on leave last week. My name plate is literally visible.”

“Jesus fuck...these bitches get dumber by the minute.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said swiftly. “ Anything else?”

“Web traffics gone down and I’m gonna find out why. It’s probably time for us to work out the budget for the Christmas Carnival. I think we should go for something new this time. If you can set up a meeting with all the department heads we can brainstorm a few ideas...”

“I can’t forget about that night.”

I froze.

God.

i turned around to stare at him as he lounged on the couch. If Kim Taehyung was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, Jungkook was definitely the second.

He was disconcertingly good looking and where Taehyung’s image was always the clean cut gentleman with the perfect character, Jungkook had a reputation as a bit of a delinquent. Simply because he had a penchant for leather jackets and liked to ride around Seoul on his motorbike on days off.

Which was ironical because in truth, Taehyung was far from a saint and Jungkook was relatively more put together

He was also a divorcee and a single parent. His daughter Jennie was easily the cutest two year old on the planet.

His wife and him had fifty fifty custody but she had cheated on him with his best friend. Jungkook had no patience for her. They had a very volatile relationship but he was fighting for full custody and rumor was that he would most certainly be granted it, soon.

A marathon runner , he didn’t drink or smoke.

Jungkook liked to paint and volunteered at an animal shelter once or twice a month because he loved dogs but couldn’t keep one because of his busy schedule.

So all in all , a pretty solid candidate if I was looking for a guy.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I was completely and utterly done with relationships for the rest of my life, I would actually give the guy a chance.

But , it is what it is.

“That sounds like a you problem. “ I shrugged. “ It was supposed to be one night with no strings attached. And by string I meant awkward conversations three months later .”

Jungkook groaned and sat up straighter, legs spread and shirt sleeves riding up to show a very sparkly watch. Rich men and their vices. I smirked a little.

“Come on... its just dinner. I want to get to know you, that’s it.” he held his hands up.

“There’s nothing to know Jungkook. I’m actually more boring than i appear, which is saying something. I’m not going to be the girl in the leather jacket clinging to your waist when you’re joyriding that motorbike of yours through Seoul. That’s not me. I would hate something that”

He chuckled.

“Are you sure? You ever tried it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll buy you a jacket. Join me this weekend. We’ll go a ride. Then you can make a decision.”

I opened my mouth to argue when the phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

“Hello?”

“This is Lee Taemin from the Advertising Department.”

“Yes?”

“We have a Mr. Jung from HYBE on the phone. They want to talk to us about a possible candidate for our Christmas Campaign.... “

I blinked, surprised.

“We haven’t even decided on a theme yet. “

Choosing the right actors to endorse stuff was usually the last step.

“I know but he’s saying they want to talk about Mr. Kim Taehyung as a possible candidate?”

I felt my entire jaw come unhinged.

I turned to Jungkook stunned. His eyes widened at the look on my face and he mouthed a ‘ What’

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes.” I said quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook demanded.

“Taehyung’s manager...he... he wants to make him the face of the Christmas Campaign.” I said dully, mind ringing. I was utterly stupefied.

Taehyung was the face of Gucci and Versace . He was so far out of our company’s league it wasn’t even funny.

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief.

“No.” He said quickly.

I gaped at him.

“What?”

“No... we can’t have that. He’s.. he’s obviously doing this to get back with you...”

I shook my head.

“that can’t be it. He’s the one who gave me a divorce. He’s the one who wanted to end it. “

It was the shock of what I’d heard. There was no other explanation for why I said that to Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook gave me a look.

“Really? But you wanted one too right?”

“Of course I did.” I lied easily, waving him off. “Anyway that doesn’t matter. We can’t say no to him, Jungkook. Our sales would skyrocket if we get him onboard.”

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck, you’re right. The Ceo will probably piss himself in excitement. You sure you’ll be okay with it?”

Jungkook looked worried.

“You forget that Taehyung and I are actually quite good friends.” I said gently.

He grimaced.

“That's just unnatural. If you can stay friends with an ex it clearly means that either you’re still in love with each other or....”He shrugged.

“Or what?”

“Or you never loved each other in the first place.”

I swallowed the remark hitting a little too close to home for comfort.

“Schedule that meeting Jungkook. We’ll come up with a campaign theme that would fit Taehyung’s image. I’ll take to Hoseok and Taehyung.”

“You’re going to call Taehyung?” Jungkook asked casually.

“Hoshi’s with him today. I’ll probably go over to his place after work and talk to him in person.”

“Lucky bastard. He gets to hurt you and yet still have you.” Jungkook said bitterly.

I rolled my eyes.

“He doesn’t have me.”

“Doesn’t he? Why else would you turn down dates with anyone who asks? its one date.. a dinner... If you’re not still hung up on your ex husband why wouldn’t you just go on one date with-”

I’d really had quite enough of it. I threw my hands up in sheer exasperation.

“Alright fine.” I yelled, “ I’ll go to dinner with you...can you just stop psycho analyzing my relationship with my husband?”

Jungkook’s smile told me that I’d been played like a fiddle.

“excellent. Go see your husband after work and I’ll come pick you up at eight.”

“What...no wait...”

“I know where he lives. Don’t worry about it. I’ll schedule that meeting and maybe after lunch we can go over the kind of budget you’ll want. Okay?”

I felt a little like I’d stepped into quagmire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t go see Taehyung after work.

I didn’t have to.

An hour before I was due to finish my daily report, he turned up at the office with my son. My assistant let him in and I could only gape at him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked , completely thrown.

“Mama I had ice cream with strawberries and sprinkles in a hundred colors.” Hoshi looked excited, eyes shining the way they usually did when he was with Taehyung.

“That sound incredibly exciting....”

“We missed you mama....can we go again?” He said excitedly.

“I’m sorry honey, Mama’s a little caught up with work...”

“Why don’t we wait?” Taehyung said cheerfully, “ Mama likes blueberry scones so we can get those for her...”

I stared at him.

“Okay...” I sad carefully, staring him down. What was he doing really?

“Okay... Can I go see the fishies....” Hoshi waved at the large fish tank built into the wall in my office and Taehyung laughed, letting him down.

“Sure bud.. go see how many of the fish you can identify...” He said brightly.

“ Since when do you pick me up for blueberry scones after work?” I asked briskly and he shrugged.

“Let the kid be happy , Mia. I heard Hobi hyung already spoke to you.”

“What is that all about, Tae?” I said tiredly.

“All the other offers i got are out of Korea. I want to stay with Hoshi during the Holidays so i thought this way , we could spend some time together..”

“By we, I hope you mean you and Hoshi.” I said drily.

“Of course. I could’ve picked another mall or something but i thought it could be a good thing if we worked at the same place... we can keep Hoshi with us and there wont be all the commuting back and forth nonsense....”

I nodded.

“I suppose you’re right. “ I sighed. “But be warned, you’re probably not going to have a very exciting time.

“I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

I nodded.

“I won’t tell you how to live your life And I most certainly won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My Ceo might just give me a huge pay raise for this. He’s been waiting for it since the time he hired me.”

Taehyung gave me a smile.

“I would have done it the minute you asked. You never asked.”

I shrugged.

“Like I said, I won’t tell you how to live your life.”

“Jang Mi?” The knock on the door made us both look up.

Jungkook stood framed in the doorway, jacket off and slung over his arms . He looked bigger than usual, muscles straining against his button down and hair mussed.

He stepped in casually, holding a hand out to Taehyung.

“The golden boy of Korea. in the flesh. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Kim. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook”

The pair of them shook hands and I felt that I would rather be anywhere in the world than there.

“ Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon.” Taehyung smiled politely.

“We still on for tonight?” Jungkook asked casually, turning to me with a bright smile.

This is why i hated men.

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to me so fast that i was sure he must’ve got whiplash.

“Sure. I’ll call you.” I said shortly.

“What’s tonight?” Taehyung smiled, face neutral and smile still in place but his eyes flashed and his voice carried a knife edge to it.

“Business dinner. We’re going over the budget for the Christmas campaign.”

“Oh... where?” Taehyung asked with the same smile and I frowned.

“We’ve not decid-”

“I thought I could cook for you. i make a mean steak dinner and I thought I could pick up a bottle of your favorite wine on the way. You have my address right? ” Jungkook smiled.

Taehyung went still next to me, his entire body taut .

“A little inappropriate for a business dinner, don’t you think?” he snapped.

Jungkook glared back at him, eyes narrowed.

“Well, you know what they say about all work and no play-” he began but I’d had enough.

“I think this conversation needs to end now.” I said loudly.

They both shut up but glared at each other.

“I’m gonna make a reservation at the Hyatt for tonight. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. “ I said, glaring at Jungkook.

He nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you Kim Taehyung.” He nodded curtly at my ex husband before moving away.

The silence he left behind was pretty awkward.

“Bit too much of a douchebag than your usual type.” Taehyung said casually.

I groaned.

“Don’t start.”

“ I won’t if you don’t date him.”

I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped.

“Lets just get that ice cream ? “ I said tiredly. Hoshi reappeared from the inside room, looking excited and happy and I smiled despite my weariness.

I could use a little sweetness in my life after a bitterly exhausting day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : Feedback is welcome . Probably going to be a long , terribly angsty fic with a lot of pain for everyone involved. I still haven’t decided who ocs going to end up with so we’ll see... what do you guys think?

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fics #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

Text

An: I’ll add tags later, i just wanted to get this posted because I’m like pretty happy with it, it’s alright. So i hope you guys enjoy! I’ll also attach links and stuff later, I’m posting this from my iPad and i just am too lazy for the tagging process. Me wants to sleep. This is part of the Disney au! Shoutout to @tangledraysofsunshine and @punkassbookjockey26 for the help on this one! This is mostly fluff (i know, how wild) but don’t worry i’m working on some angst for you soon. Fafs update soon too! I’ve already started on it and I’m going to keep working on it as the week goes. Thankfully it’s an easy chapter for me to write bc i have plenty of OG stuff to pull from. Okay, anyway! Enjoy!!

With every second that ticked by, it was getting harder and harder not to rummage through his belongings like she lived there. Even worse was that Rowan was sneaking glances at her with a smirk on his lips like he knew she wanted to. It made her scowl, a frown line appearing between her eyebrows as she glared into his back.

“I’m making you dinner, and you’re still finding a reason to be unhappy with me?” He asked her, putting down the spatula and turning to lean against his counter. The man looked criminally good in an ivory cable-knit sweater and dark jeans, an outfit combination that Aelin had never seen him in before. Thinking back on it, she was positive that when he wasn’t in a costume at work, she had only ever seen him in jeans and a t-shirt. There was also the single flannel he’d worn on Halloween, but all of that was simply incomparable to how he looked now.

“You said dinner would be ready ages ago.”

“I said it would be ready in half an hour when you got here, which was twenty minutes ago. I still have ten minutes before you get to hound me about lying.”

“Maybe if you’d prepared an appetizer…” she teased, hoping with every cell in her body that he knew she was kidding. When Rowan had said he wanted to cook her dinner, she’d been floored. The only meal that she could successfully make was breakfast, and the options were limited. Additionally, she couldn’t remember the last time a romantic interest had cooked for her at all. Probably Sam several years earlier, and it had been so bad they’d relented and settled on drive-thru burgers instead.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed at her, and she knew she’d missed the mark with her joke. The date had been going well so far; not much could have been ruined. He’d kissed her hello once, or four times, then told her to make herself at home. Rowan even had a beautiful arrangement of kingsflame at the table in the dining area. Their banter had ensued as it always did, casual teasing comments. Until she went too far. Obviously.

He turned his back, and Aelin tensed, moving across the kitchen to get to him. Just before she touched him, he turned back around, eyes widening almost comically when his elbow nearly hit her temple. Without her boots, her footsteps had been near-silent on his hardwood floors.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, fingers brushing her temple where his sweater had grazed her face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” With their dinner sizzling in the background, she was sure that he could hardly hear the soft whisper of her voice. That didn’t seem to matter because Rowan leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, short and sweet and leaving her wanting more. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Rowan’s brows knit together, green eyes tracing over every feature of her face before settling to meet her gaze.

“Being… me? Teasing? I don’t know. This is a date, and you’re so nice to be making dinner, and I shouldn’t be--”

“Aelin,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t busting my balls for something. I don’t think we would be us.” At the mention of them as an item, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth to ward off the embarrassingly large grin that was threatening to take over her face.

“That doesn’t mean I can be rude,” she grumbled, earning another smile from the man in front of her.

“You aren’t.” Rowan turned away from her for a brief moment. When he faced her again he held half of a cookie in his hand. “You just get hangry.”

She stared at the small offering in his hand before accepting it with a smile. Not only was he making her dinner, but it seemed he had also baked her double chocolate chip cookies. It made her heart squeeze in an almost painful way, but she took the cookie and nibbled on the corner. Whatever recipe he had used was perfect. It only made the rumbling in her belly worse, but she was determined to finish it without chocolate smeared all over her mouth.

“I’m almost done with dinner. Go snoop. I know you’re dying to.” Aelin wrinkled her nose, and Rowan was quick to kiss the tip of it, despite her failed attempt to swerve. Not that she wanted him to miss, really. Aelin wanted to beg him to kiss her until she was physically sick and couldn’t stand to feel his mouth on her body ever again.

The apartment was simple. It had one bedroom and an open living and kitchen area. Rowan had a small table that could seat four between the two rooms. It was sparsely decorated but had a few personal touches here and there that provided a glimpse into Rowan’s life. She walked around the living room, noting the pile of books stacked neatly next to the TV contained some of her favorites. She hadn’t pegged Rowan as an avid reader, but she realized that despite working with the man for the past two years, there was still so much she didn’t know about him.

And she realized, more than anything, that she wanted to know everything.

Furthermore, she’d been right about the books stacked on the coffee table. They were travel books, some of them with tabs and post-it notes sticking out of the sides. With a sly glance to the kitchen, she perched on the edge of the couch and pulled the biggest of them with the most annotations toward her, flipping through the pages to see what all he had bookmarked.

One of the first pages was a map marking all the parks and their major attractions. It seemed Rowan had a key for himself, little stars, triangles and squares marking various locations.

“The stars are my favorite places I’ve been,” Rowan said, pulling her gaze from pages of mountains and canyons and over to his green eyes.

“Is this what you do when you aren’t working?” Aelin closed the books and restacked them neatly on the table. Rowan was carrying two plates of stir-fry over to the table. In a few steps she joined him, sliding into the seat beside his.

“When I can, yes.” She was so hungry that she merely nodded, taking a too-large bite of food and meaning at the taste. Rowan’s eyebrow quirked while he took a bite of his own, and to avoid speaking with a mouthful she gave him a thumbs up.

“So good,” she reiterated after she swallowed, clearing her throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“It’s food. I like food. And you baked cookies,” Aelin reminded him, popping another bite in her mouth. The tickle she seemed to be developing in her throat worsened, forcing her to clear her throat again after she swallowed. Actually, the tickle was becoming an insatiable itch that she tried to chase away with water. She had no luck. “Is your um— is your throat itchy?”

“No…?” Aelin tugged on the collar of her shirt, nodding her head instead of responding. Rowan leaned over to brush his fingers along her cheek, worry settling in the wrinkle between his eyebrows. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Gods, my mouth is itchy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, while she downed the rest of her water so quickly a drop slipped down the side of her chin.

“Aelin. What are you allergic to?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” she insisted, despite the way her tongue felt undeniably too big for her mouth. Rowan had already left the table, though, disappearing through a door off the living room and coming back with a small white bottle. His phone was also now in his hand and the numbers his thumb was pressing looked a lot like 9-1-1 from her vantage point.

“Take these,” he said softly, holding two pills to her lips that she opened her mouth for and downed with Rowan’s full glass of water.

“That’s dramatic.” She nodded at his phone. “I can breathe fine. My mouth is just itchy. And my tongue is a little too big.” To prove a point, she stuck her tongue out. Rowan’s eyes were saucers and he was ready to hit the call button.

“Your tongue is twice the size it usually is!”

“Did you do this on purpose? Is this getting me back for the syrup?” Aelin was kidding. Half-kidding, maybe, but kidding all the same. When she spoke, drool dribbled down her chin that she wiped at with the collar of her shirt. The whimper that sounded in the back of her throat wasn’t voluntary. It was their first date and she managed to drool on herself in front of him. Aelin Galathynius was the epitome of cool.

“This is not getting you back for the syrup.” Rowan’s voice was sharp, if still soft around the edges while he watched her carefully. His thumb was still dancing over the call button, but Aelin refused to be carted out of his apartment on a stretcher. She took his phone, locked it, and held it hostage in her lap while he fussed and mumbled about how big her tongue was. “What are you allergic to?”

“I didn’t know I was allergic to anything,” she swore again, grabbing his water for another long drink.

It went on like this for several minutes: Rowan listing the ingredients for the stir-fry that she may not have had before, or maybe she’d not had it in such a long time she forgot she had a mild allergy to it. MSG, soy, celery, sesame, carrots, on and on. He ran through everything twice before Aelin asked him to please stop, she had no idea and listing them over and over wasn’t going to spark a memory or knowledge she didn’t have.

The signature frown he wore most of the time was all the more prominent the droopier her eyes got; the effects of Benadryl were hitting her harder than she cared to admit, but her throat wasn’t as itchy and her tongue was feeling closer to normal. Rowan held both of her hands and guided her to his bedroom. Aelin wanted to make a joke about how this wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she was too sleepy to find the words.

Rowan undressed her, pulling her jeans off before guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed. The duvet was softer, fluffier than she’d anticipated him to sleep on, and she wanted to burrow down into it as he replaced her shirt with one of his own. When he pulled back the blanket, she crawled under and didn’t settle until he laid down with her. His sweater was soft beneath her cheek and she felt like she was cuddling with him on a cloud. Gods, his bed was so comfortable she wanted to sleep in it forever.

“I’m sorry for ruining our date,” she mumbled, tilting her head back to look at him beneath heavy lashes and heavier lids.

“I’m sorry for accidentally almost killing you.” Despite the way his lips were turned down, there was amusement hidden in his words. Aelin smiled and tilted her head back enough for him to take the hint: she wanted to be kissed. A half smile spread across his lips and he kissed her gently, fingers brushing loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“This isn’t how I imagined our date ending,” she grumbled, ducking her face down into his sweater. Rowan chuckled and Aelin knew that it wasn’t what he had in mind, either. “I thought I would end up in your bed but not to sleep. I mean, maybe after you fucked me senseless, but I didn’t think we would be skipping that part altogether.”

“I didn’t think I would make something that had flare up an obscure allergy you didn’t know you had, either. So I guess we’re both surprised.” Aelin snorted, sitting up enough to tug on the side of his sweater. Rowan took the hint, sitting up to pull the sweater and his shirt over his head. While in the process of undressing, he stood and pulled his jeans off, too, tossing them over the back of a desk chair in the corner of the room. Aelin swallowed, eyes dipping over the expanse of golden skin he’d exposed.

Her eyes caught on a scar on his lower abdomen, zeroed-in on the trail of hair that disappeared into his briefs. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t seen him completely naked. At work, they saw each other in various stages of undress while changing costumes, but the only time they’d had sex had been a quickie in Lorcan’s bathroom. They’d both been mostly clothed for that. She was making it a goal to see him entirely naked in the next twenty-four hours, because he looked so good like this it was unfair.

“Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up,” she said, breathlessly. Rowan grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek that she didn’t see often enough.

“I’m counting on it.”

#Disney au #Disney #rowaelin Disney au #throne of glass #tog #iwsiil #i won’t say I’m in love #rowaelin #Aelin galathynius #Rowan whitethorn #writing #my writing

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babyjamiebarnes · 3 years

Text

Build-A-Bear

Part Three

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos and implications

Chapter Summary: Reader has dinner with her family and gets grilled even harder than her food. But she’s turned to a light simmer when Bucky takes her out for their first date.

Author’s Note: This chapter is fucking monstrous lol. I did not expect it to be this long so it might be a couple extra days before the next chapter so I can catch up! I’m also not sure if my Italian is accurate so I apologize in advance. I used to work for a man named Gennaro from Naples and he called me “bella” so hopefully I’m sort of right? If you like the story so far, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Part One • Part Two

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

Dinner that night was tense, to say the least. It was nice to have your dad, step-mom, sister, and uncles Happy and Rhodey over again, but your dad wasn’t quick to forget what he saw earlier.

“What was that with Barnes today?” Tony asked as you all sat around the dining room table in your midtown flat, poking away at the remnants of your meals.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

Your dad just gave you an incredulous look. “You know what I mean.”

You sighed and avoided meeting his eyes. “I was just working on his arm, dad. I didn’t wanna make him lie down on a hard lab table while I poked around to do what you wanted and quiet his arm,” you explained.

“Wait, Barnes as in Bucky Barnes?” Uncle Rhodey clarified.

“Yeah,” your dad confirmed, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found her kneeling between his legs while he sat shirtless on the couch.”

“You’re sleeping with Bucky?!” Rhodey asked.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone!” you defended, dropping your fork onto your plate. “I’ve known him for a month.”

“That’s never stopped your father,” Pepper mumbled under her breath, making you huff out a laugh despite your current grilling.

“Listen, when I said ‘no fraternizing with coworkers,’ I meant it,” your dad said.

“Please stop saying ‘fraternizing.’ It’s weird.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “No ‘slumber parties’ with coworkers,” he rephrased.

This made Morgan perk up in her seat, having spent the past couple minutes confusedly watching you and your dad bicker.

“Can we have a slumber party, [Y/N]?” she asked.

“Yes, honey, we can have a slumber party,” you responded.

“Tonight?” she continued.

At this, you pointedly looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows as a way of saying ‘are we done now?’ You could tell he didn’t want to end the conversation, but you were grateful for the sudden change of topic. Tony uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table as he replied to your sister.

“If your big sister says it’s okay, you can have a slumber party tonight.”

Morgan lit up like the Fourth of July, quickly listing off all the movies she wanted to watch even though you knew she’d fall asleep halfway through the first movie.

As your family packed up to leave, leaving Morgan since she had a drawer of clothes for the impromptu sleepovers you’ve had before, you calmed your racing heart before saying the words that would either make your father more suspicious or completely quash his suspicions.

“You’ll have to pick her up by four tomorrow. I have a date.”

All of the adults turned to face you. Pepper had a huge smile on her face, clearly excited for you, but your dad and Rhodey looked ready to fight. Happy looked curious, maybe even worried, but he played a big role in raising you so while Tony was the overprotective parent, Happy was the comforting parent (not that he’d ever let anyone know that).

“A date?” The tone of your dad’s voice made you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to go on dates.”

Your dad let out a quiet harumph at that, but understood where you were coming from. “I know, sweetheart. Forgive me for being a bit overprotective of my little girl.”

“I get it. I appreciate your concern,” you said with a smile, “but this is good for me. You want grandkids eventually, right?”

“Oh god,” your dad groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m not old enough to be a grandpa but I’m old enough to have a heart attack at the mention of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“So what’s this person’s name?” Pepper piped up. You visibly tensed and internally panicked. You couldn’t just admit it was Bucky after denying anything there. But his name was technically pretty common...

“His name is James.”

Rhodey snapped his fingers and pointed at you as he said, “I like him already.”

‘Yeah, sure you do,’ you thought. The sight of your dad narrowing his eyes at you and crossing his arms as he stood in the entryway of your apartment made you nervous. Maybe James wasn’t good enough to get him off your trail (probably because he was right).

“How did you meet this guy?” Tony asked.

If anyone else had asked, you would’ve said ‘work,’ but that’s the last place you could say to your dad — with whom you worked.

“Uhh, at the grocery store. We accidentally followed each other and got a lot of the same food so he jokingly accused me of stalking him and we just hit it off,” you rattled off. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how your friend Monique met her girlfriend or he’d know you were lying.

“That’s so cute,” Pepper cooed. She was definitely the more relaxed of your parents, possibly because she wasn’t your biological mom. She had been raising you since you were ten though, so she played a big part in your upbringing.

“Text me his last name so I can run a background check,” your dad said. You’d love to think he was joking, but you knew he was serious.

And as much as you knew you’d regret it, you had to make a joke…

“His last name is Barnes,” you said, keeping your face as serious as possible. “James Barnes. I actually know his middle name too: Buchanan.”

“[Y/N] [Y/M/N] [Y/L/N], you better be joking right now,” Tony said. He was already getting red in the face, clearly unenthused at the prospect of you dating the man who, admittedly, killed his parents — your grandparents. Yeah, understandable.

“I’m obviously kidding,” you said, forcing a laugh. “It’s just funny that they have the same first name and you’re so anti-Bucky.”

“You’re gonna send me to an early grave,” he muttered. “I’m going home before I actually have a heart attack.”

You said your goodbyes and ‘I love you’s before you and Morgan put on your pajamas and set up a pillow fort in the middle of your living room to watch her favorite sleepover movie: “Shrek.”

As the movie went on, you leaned back in the fort to take a photo of Morgan with the movie in the background. Well, the back of Morgan’s head as she was engrossed in the movie she’d seen a million times.

[Image attached] She’s got her teddy bear but where’s my Bucky Bear? 🥺

Across the city, Bucky’s phone buzzed from its spot on the kitchen counter as he made himself a late dinner. He didn’t recognize the number, but smiled when he saw the picture of who he assumed was your sister or niece.

I never got an invite. Looks like more fun than my night.

You smiled to yourself when you saw his reply, rolling your eyes at the lack of exclamation points and emojis. Typical man.

What does your night look like?

Eating a late dinner and talking to you.

Talking to me isn’t fun?! I’m hurt 😢

Not as fun as actually being with you.

Even though he wasn’t there and didn’t say it verbally, you could feel your cheeks get hot at his words.

There’s no way sweet talk like that didn’t get you in more than four beds.

You’re still on that? I swear doll, I have the same number as you.

Whatever you say! 🙄

There was a lull in conversation after that, giving you time to move your sister to lie on her back with pillows and blankets in the fort so she could sleep more comfortably.

Are we still going out tomorrow?

You let the next Shrek movie start automatically, but you didn’t pay any attention as you texted Bucky.

I’m still down if you are 👀

You sent him your address and let him know you’d wait on the front steps for him so he didn’t have to come all the way up. With the exchange of ‘good night’ messages, you drifted asleep to the sounds of Shrek 2.

•

The next morning, you somehow managed to wake up before your sister, then brought her back to the land of the living with the smell of French toast.

You spent your day watching another movie with Morgan before fixing lunch and taking her to a park down the road. Morgan’s childhood was definitely different from yours. Happy was the one who took you to parks and shopping, but Tony parented at home. Morgan would have the same early experiences, but the world knew Tony and Pepper had a daughter. They kept her identity hidden for now, waiting until she could decide if she wanted to reveal herself later in life. The world never knew about you.

And you had to be somewhat grateful for that. You still got all the perks of being a Stark — the money, the Tower, meeting the Avengers (and having James Rhodes as your godfather) — without the stress of fame. But part of you still wished you could talk about your father without keeping his occupation vague and referring to him as “Anthony” when telling stories instead of Tony.

Morgan also got to know her mom. You only spent the first seven years of your life with your mom before she was killed in a drive-by shooting. The police investigated it like crazy because everyone thought since it was Tony Stark’s wife, it had to be a targeted hit. But since she never took the same jogging route twice, all they came up with was an unplanned drive-by. You cherished the memories you had with her, but still openly welcomed Pepper when she came into the picture. She may not have played the same type of role in your life, but she helped shape your middle and high school years.

By the time you and Morgan got back to your place, she was exhausted, climbing back into the still-intact blanket fort to take a nap. When your dad and Pepper stopped by to pick her up, she was still knocked out.

“We’ll get out of your hair so you can get ready for your date,” your dad said with Morgan in his arms. “Send me this James guy’s last name. I still want to run a background check.”

“Dad,” you grumbled. “I already did my research. He’s clear.” Kind of. He technically has murdered hundreds of people, including your grandparents, but he’s reformed and fighting for the good guys now. Not that your dad would let it slide if you told him that.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “Let me know if you need to hide any bodies, okay?”

“You got it,” you said with a laugh as they headed out. You had two hours to get ready for Bucky, giving you plenty of time to look extra cute.

By the time six rolled around, you were all dolled up and ready to go. The autumn weather had you in a jacket and boots, but that just pulled your outfit together.

Your doorman Matt was standing inside the lobby when you ran downstairs, tossing him a small wave as you left.

“Have a good night, Miss [Y/L/N],” he said with a nod.

“See you later, Matt!”

You stood at the bottom of your building’s front steps, checking your phone and looking up and down the block for Bucky. It was six on the dot, so you figured he’d be there soon.

“Hey!” You looked up from your phone to see Bucky jogging toward you, a black leather jacket covering his arms and a black glove hiding his left hand. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get away from Sam. Had to tell him I was gonna check out my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn.”

“You’re, like, 30 seconds late. I’m just glad you’re here,” you said with a smile. “So what are we doing tonight?”

Bucky’s smile faltered as he looked down at you. Your boots gave you a bit of a height bump, but Bucky still stood taller than you.

“I, uh, I kinda thought you had something planned,” he said softly.

“Oh, oops,” you laughed. “Well… what about those Brooklyn stomping grounds of yours? Care to show me around?”

Bucky lit up at the recommendation and started leading the way to the nearest subway stop. Before you started down the stairs, he paused and turned to you with a sour expression.

“I probably should’ve asked if you’d rather get a cab,” he said.

“Bucky, I take the subway to work every day. It’s fine.”

“Why do you take the train? You don’t live too far away.” You two made your way down the steps to the bustling station.

“It’s just easier. Less work for me,” you explained. “I didn’t take the train much as a kid so I like taking the opportunity now that I can.”

“Most people don’t willingly take the subway,” he laughed. “Steve and I always used to talk about how we’d be rich enough to have a car someday. But now that I could get any car I wanted, I don’t think I want one. I like the subway.”

“Even though it’s smelly and dirty?” you joked.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “It’s one of the things that still reminds me of home.”

The gentleness in his voice nearly brought you to tears. This man had been through so much and was still the sweetest soul you’d ever met. Forced into a war he didn’t want to join, experimented on, tortured and brainwashed, hunted by every government in the world, captured, frozen, and forced into another war and more battles he shouldn’t have to join. He just couldn’t catch a break.

“Well I’m excited to see what else reminds you of home,” you replied.

The trains to and through Brooklyn were relatively busy so you and Bucky couldn’t really talk much, but it was a Saturday night so you couldn’t blame people for getting out. It was tough to find seats, but Bucky was willing to stand to make sure you could have a seat. Ever the gentleman.

When you made it to Bucky’s Brooklyn stop of choice, he started telling you more stories from the ‘40s, like when Steve couldn’t get off the train in time and accidentally went down another stop so Bucky ran to the next stop and found Steve heading his way anyway. And how he and Steve followed his sister Rebecca on a date “to watch out for her,” he said, and her date thought they were stalking her and tried to beat them up. And all the fights he pulled Steve out of.

“Punk was a chihuahua who thought he was a Rottweiler.”

For a while, you two walked around the streets of Brooklyn just telling each other stories. You were careful about names you used, often just calling Happy “Uncle Harry” and Rhodey “Uncle James.”

Bucky showed you the movie theater he and Steve used to go to, which was surprisingly still in business. You walked past what used to be a diner Bucky frequented but was converted into a bridal shop.

“This used to be a magic store Steve loved,” he said, looking up at the bank on the corner of the street. “Things have changed a lot.”

You heard the nostalgia in his voice, clearly missing the New York he grew up to love. He had a soft smile on his lips as he reminisced, though.

“What about where you lived?” you asked. “Do you remember where that is?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I could never forget that.”

Everything was within a fifteen minute walk of where you got off the subway so even though your feet were getting tired, you followed alongside Bucky as he led the way up and down the streets. Before too long, you strode up to a large brick building that had clearly been remodeled recently, if the fresh windows and front doors were any indication.

“It’s… a lot nicer than when I lived here,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But it’s been nearly 100 years so I can’t blame them for updating things.”

“Brooklyn is kind of booming now, too,” you added. “More people to appeal to, ya know?”

You stared up at him again, seeing that same lost look as before, like he wished to turn back time and show you the Brooklyn he knew. So you decided since he couldn’t do that, you’d show him the Brooklyn you knew.

“Come here. My turn to show you around,” you said, holding your hand out to him. He gave you a small smile before grabbing your hand in his and letting you pull him back to the subway.

Ten minutes later, you hopped off the train with Bucky in tow and headed to the little Italian restaurant you found while exploring the city a couple years before. It wasn’t anything elaborate; it was honestly more of a little hole-in-the-wall, but you liked the quiet atmosphere.

“Bella!” the owner shouted as you walked in.

“Hey Genny,” you smiled at him.

“Who’s this?” he asked as he approached you, raising his eyebrows when he saw Bucky.

“This is James,” you said. You opted against using his more common nickname to avoid any recognition.

“James, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Gennaro, but you can call me Genny. Welcome to my restaurant.” The two men shook hands before Genny ushered you two to a table and handed you menus. “Would you like to start with focaccia?”

“Yes please!”

“Con formaggi?”

“Si! Grazie!”

Gennaro left you and Bucky while he started your appetizer.

“You speak Italian?” Bucky asked.

“Definitely not,” you laughed. “I’ve just been coming here for a while and have picked up on some things Genny says. Like ‘bella’ means ‘beautiful,’ this pizza,” you pointed to your favorite pizza on the menu, “‘cinque formaggi’ means ‘five cheese.’ But I could never hold a conversation.”

“Un peccato,” Bucky sighed before flashing a smile at you.

“You speak Italian?!” you nearly shrieked. “No way! Don’t talk shit with Gennaro behind my back.” You pouted at Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t say anything bad about you. Maybe an embarrassing moment or two — like your dad walking in on you between his knees — but nothing negative.

“I picked it up pretty quickly back in the day,” Bucky explained. “Before I was sent to Germany, I was stationed in a small town in Italy for a while. The locals didn’t mind having us there because we kept the Nazis out, so they taught us some Italian when we were in town.”

“Maybe I should take Gennaro up on his offer to learn Italian,” you mused.

“Or you could learn from me,” Bucky was quick to offer. “I’ll teach you some stuff when you’re working on my arm.”

Your server arrived with the focaccia and water for both of you, before giving you more time to actually look at the menus instead of talking. You decided to split a bottle of red wine and two pizzas, one of your choice and one of Bucky’s. As the night went on, you and Bucky both opened up to each other even more than before. You could easily blame the buzz from a couple glasses of wine, but Bucky’s super soldier serum made you confused. His cheeks were flushed and he had more than half the bottle, so you wondered if maybe...

“Can you still get drunk?”

“Unlike Steve, yes. It takes more than this,” he said, lifting the nearly empty bottle of wine, “but since Steve and I received different serums, they work a little differently. I can definitely get drunk. Marijuana admittedly hits harder.”

You paused as you stared back at him, his elbows perched on the table and his clasped hands propped under his chin.

“Are you drunk now?”

“No,” he laughed quietly. “A little tipsy, sure, but not drunk by a long shot.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, reluctantly accepting that he was just as buzzed as you but not quite drunk.

Before long, your server brought over your tab and you realized how empty the restaurant had gotten. Then you noticed the broom and mop the server had brought out to the floor, then the dark ‘open’ sign, and finally the clock on the wall.

“You closed 20 minutes ago and didn’t kick us out?” you shouted at Gennaro. “Genny, you can always kick me out! I feel bad!”

Gennaro walked over to your table as you scrambled for your wallet and handed the server your card to run.

“I can’t kick you out, bella. You and your moroso are welcome any time.”

“I think this poor girl would beg to differ,” you said as the server handed your card and signature slip back. She just laughed at your comment, agreeing without saying it outright.

You left a hefty tip and hugged Genny before you and Bucky, both still a bit tipsy, shuffled outside.

“Thanks for buying dinner,” Bucky said. “This means I get to pay next time, though.”

He said it so casually and you already planned on another date, but it still kind of caught you off guard.

“Next time?” You smiled up at him and took a step closer until you were almost toe-to-toe. “There’s gonna be a ‘next time’?”

“I sure hope there is,” he said quietly, his smirk sending a rush up your spine.

“If you insist,” you sighed. He knew better than to believe you weren’t excited for your future plans. “I’m cold. Care to get an Uber with me?”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, pulling the loose opening of his jacket over your arms and wrapping his arms around you to help keep you warm.

“Well, yeah. I need to make sure you get home safe so ‘next time’ can happen,” Bucky said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“You know, I don’t usually let men spoon me on the first date,” you joked as you tapped away to order an Uber.

“I can stop, if you want,” he teased.

You gripped his arm as he started to pull away. “I never said that.”

Bucky rode back to your place with you, keeping conversation casual as you both avoided the controversy you were about to face: to kiss on the first date or not. You never really had any issues with it before, but you already really liked Bucky. You didn’t want to risk messing it up by moving too fast. But what grown man would think a kiss on a first date was too fast? Well… maybe one born in the early 1900s…

Before your thoughts could throw you into a downward spiral, the driver pulled up outside your apartment complex. Bucky stepped out first and held the door open for you to scoot out after him. As you stood at the bottom of the stairs to your building, you felt those nerves creeping up on you again. God, you hadn’t felt this nervous about a date since high school.

“I had fun tonight,” Bucky said first, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me too,” you smiled back. “I’m excited for what you plan for next time.”

Bucky laughed at this, the crinkle of his nose making your own smile grow. God, you wanted to invite him inside already. In your defense, you’ve known him for a full month and spent even longer getting heart-eyes over him in college.

But you reined in your hormones and just took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest. His right hand came up to rest on your waist, but he kept the metal hand in his pocket. With your hand placement, you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat and judging by the pace, you knew you were both on the same page. As you were trying to shove your nerves aside, Bucky asked the one question you were hoping for.

“Can I kiss you?”

Knowing he wanted this as much as you did relieved some of your nerves, but also made the moment that much more real. You smiled up at him and nodded your head.

“Yes, please do.”

You perched up on your toes to meet him halfway, letting his lips mold to yours. His hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer; you gripped the lapel of his jacket in your fists. Suddenly the cold of the night no longer existed. All you could feel was the warmth radiating off of him as he held you close. He pulled back for a second before diving right back in, this time nipping at your bottom lip. You giggled against him, but didn’t stop him from taking the innocent kiss a step further. Your hands slid from his chest to the nape of his neck before tangling into his long hair. The vibration from his moan as you tugged on his hair ran straight down your spine, making it even harder to leave the date alone.

Reluctantly, you both pulled apart just enough for your noses to brush against each other, the stubble of his beard still tickling your nose. You opened your eyes enough to see the smile on his lips as he pulled back a bit more to see your face.

“I’ll see you Monday?” you said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you two out of your bubble.

“See you Monday, [Y/N],” Bucky replied just as quietly. His hand slipped from your waist as you backed away, biting your lip at him before you turned and scurried up the steps. Bucky stood on the sidewalk until he could see the light in your apartment flick on, just to make sure you were safe.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x Stark!reader #bucky barnes x stark!reader #Stark!reader #dad!tony #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic

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