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lowkeyerror · 3 months ago

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Help With The Curriculum

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: Professor!Harkness, Professor!Reader, smut, cunnulingus, fingering, dirty talk, thigh riding, pregnancy/breeding kink mentioned, Let me know if there are more

Summary: Both you and Agatha are history professors at university. The students often compare your courses so Agatha attends one of your lectures. She asks you to go to dinner with her, to help her come up with a more engaging curriculum. Just meal between two educators... until it’s not

An: I see a lot of professor Agatha content and I wanted in 🤷‍♀️.

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Professor Harkness was a scary woman. You had heard students mumble about her in the hallways and in your own classroom as well. They’re were often a lot of comparisons between the two of you, considering you were both history professors.

Students who ended up in your course before it filled up, were considered the lucky ones. Anyone else had to take on professor Harkness.

Her approach to teaching was very no-nonsense and straight-forward. Some described her lectures as too complex to follow, her paper to hard to tackle, and her attitude too much to handle.

The way they spoke about her and her course, made you feel like you were doing something wrong. You hadn’t struck fear of failure into your students. It was their money and time that they were wasting if they consistently did poorly, in your opinion.

Agatha and yourself had roughly the same success rate amongst the students. The averages were high and for that you were grateful.

You slowly paced the lecture hall as you spoke. Your voice bounced off the walls, accompanied by the low hums of laptops and the sound of typing.

The class was nearly over, but you wanted to make sure the students were prepared for the upcoming exam, so you made sure to hammer the last few points in.

“Alright, I know it’s a 3-day weekend and you all plan to make the most of it, but you should make some time to study too. When you come back, we’ll review and then the following class will be a test. Have a good weekend everyone.”

With your dismissal, everyone began to gather their things and exit the lecture hall. You head back to your desk and begin to organize some of the students’ papers.

“Your approach is a lot better than they give you credit for.”

You lift your head to meet the voice. Professor Harkness is sat in one of seats, eyes focused on you.

“Professor Harkness, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She rises from her seat and makes her way over to your desk, “I just had to see you lecture in person. The students talk you know?”

You hum, “What do they say?”

She tilts her head in faux-thought, “Something along the line of you being a much better lecturer than I am and how your class has a better ‘vibe’ than mine.”

You chuckle at her antics, “Well, you started off by saying I deserve more credit for my work.”

Her smile is sly, “You do, because they talk about you like you’re some kind of pushover, but you don’t really come off like that.”

You shrug, “Gossip doesn’t stop in high school. We’re both good educators. Roughly the same results with the students as well. Did you come to just scope me out?”

“I was hoping to talk curriculum with you. I’ve been trying to find something more interesting, that keeps them engaged, but still feels on path with the course?”

You nod along to her words, “Sounds good, do you have anything in mind?”

“Too many to count, if I’m being honest. Maybe we can figure something out together over dinner?”

Your head stops bobbing and you give her your full attention, “Dinner?”

Professor Harkness doubles down, “Dinner. Nothing crazy, just a meal between colleagues. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

You begin to scribble a few words on a piece of paper, then hand the paper to the other professor, “I will see you tonight, Professor Harkness.”

She tucks your address into the pocket of her jacket, “Please, just Agatha.”

“Alright, Agatha, I’ll see you tonight,” her name holds weight on your tongue.

She shines you an award winning smile, “Later Professor L/n.”

Before you can correct her she’s turned her back on you opting to exit the hall. Your eyes linger on her figure as she walks out. It feels like there's an extra pep in her step, a sway in her hips, a happiness that is rarely seen on the woman. The thought that you had that kind of effect on her made you smile a little.

She was an attractive woman. It was the combination of her intellect, her charm, and her appearance. Agatha was a perfect 10 in all of the categories. It was hard not to feel something for her. Having dinner with her might be the best part of the three-day weekend.

With the distraction from Agatha, you couldn't go back to grading papers. Your body has finally caught up to your mind and you began to fluster as you thought about tonight. You already had your last class for the day so you decide to just go home.

Before you settle in too much, you go through your closet, trying to find something to wear. You had no idea, where you were going. It made it hard to pick something to wear. She did say that this was nothing crazy, and you were technically just going to talk about the curriculum, so did you really need to go all out?

You ended up going with something that was simple, but elevated. Once you had your outfit sorted out, you went to get ready. A good shower, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and doing your hair, were all things you did.

It was 8pm sharp when your doorbell rang. You took in a deep breath, shaking the nerves away.

“It’s just dinner,” you mumble to yourself, opening the door.

To your relief Agatha isn’t super dressed up either. She’s wearing clothes that are nice, but casual. A round pair of glasses sit on her face, she looks cute in them.

“You look good,” she says taking in your attire.

“I could say the same to you,” you return the compliment.

“Shall we?”

You step out of your house and the two of you walk side by side to her car. She opens the door for you and you slide in the passenger seat. When she gets in the driver’s seat, she begins to speak.

“Before we go anywhere, I have to ask… are we above going to Chili’s?”

You laugh at her question, “What, are we too old for a triple dipper and $6 margaritas?”

“I don't think I’ll ever be too old for a $6 marg.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

There’s a comfortable silence that envelopes the two of you on the drive. You hum quietly along to the music playing on the radio. You notice Agatha tapping her finger to the beat against the steering wheel.

Your gaze hyper fixates on the details of her hand. There were pronounced veins running along the top, her fingers were slender, and her knuckles were rosy. Her nails seemed to be manicured, but no paint was placed over them.

When you arrive at Chili’s you are surprised to be seated quickly amongst the busy establishment. It was a Friday night leading into a three- day weekend so, the crowd was as large as they expected it to be. Both of you are quick to order a margarita before even looking at the menu.

“So, have you narrowed down any of the choices for the curriculum?”

Agatha seems uncertain as she speaks, “How do you feel about Salem?”

You raise your brow, “Massachusetts?”

Agatha rolls her eyes, but laughs, “Where else, professor?”

“First off, it’s Y/n. Secondly, I was just clarifying. I think Salem is a city filled with history,” you add.

“Is it college-level interesting though? Do you think the students will think it's childish?”

You shake your head, “I’m sure with your teaching style you could make SpongeBob seem like important government documents.”

She laughs, “Be honest, I know you hear students’ gossip, is my course really that much harder than yours?”

You shrug, “Everything is dramatic at their age, I’d have to take a page from your book and sit in on your lecture to see.”

Agatha smiles slyly, “You’re welcome to pop in at any time.”

“Did my lecture seem like a cake walk to you?”

“No, I have a feeling you just sound nicer than I do,” Agatha reveals.

You shake your head, “I think you’re nice.”

She rolls her eyes again, “I’m nice to you, but that’s different.”

You challenge her, “How so?”

The professor seems to fluster a bit, luckily she has a chance to regroup when the waitress comes to take your order. Once she walks away, Agatha thinks she had successfully dodged the question, but you don't let the topic go so suddenly.

“I’m waiting Professor Harkness.”

She scratches the back of her neck, “Well we are colleagues, so it’s a different type of dynamic.”

You hum, “Interesting, but you didn't say you're nice to all the professors, just to me. I don’t mean to assume, but I don’t know if I can say your reputation is only infamous with the student body. I’m pretty sure Professor Lewis is terrified of you.”

“What do you want me to say? You’re easy on the eyes sweetheart.”

You feel your face heat with her words. It’s now you that is sputtering for response, “I- uh-"

“Lucky, we teach history and not English,” Agatha teases you further.

Your mouth opens in shock, “You enjoy seeing me flustered like this?”

Agatha leans back in her seat, “I’m not going to say that I don’t enjoy seeing you flustered. I think it’s adorable.”

You scoff playfully, “So you asked me out just to see me flustered then? Because it seems like you had Salem in mind this whole time. Meaning you just wanted to have some one-on-one time with me, professor.”

Agatha begins to stumble over words like you had moments prior. Her cheeks taking on a light pink shade as you had caught her red handed.

“Would you have agreed otherwise?”

You see her looking at the table. You reach across placing your hand in hers. The movement causes her to meet your gaze. You smile at her sweetly.

“Agatha, I agreed anyway. I had a feeling you didn't need my help, considering you've been doing this longer than I have. I'm sure you could've asked Professor Vidal if you really needed a good opinion.”

“Rio is too annoying to ask. I still would've asked you, even if I wasn't drawn to you.”

You chuckle to yourself, “Drawn to me, huh? I felt your eyes on me the entire lecture. I wonder if you even heard anything I said.”

Agatha bites her lip, “What can I say? Your outfit was distracting professor.”

“Maybe next time we can do something about that,” you say to her suggestively.

“Something like what?”

Your food comes in the middle of the conversation. You pull your hand out of hers to grab a fry. You pop the fry into your mouth.

“Maybe take it off, if it’s such a distraction.”

Agatha's eyes darken, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart.”

You don't fold under her stare, “I don't make threats Agatha, just promises.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

The question is all it takes for you to quickly pay and get to go boxes for your food. The anticipation only builds once you’re in the car. You can hardly keep yourself from losing control right there.

Agatha drives you to her place. You barely get through the door when she’s shoving your back against it. Her lips on yours. Your hands fall into the dips of her hips, while her’s rest on your face. You kiss her back with fervor. It’s clear to you that she wants to dominate you, but you don’t know if you want her to do that.

You pull away slightly out of breath, “Nice place, professor.”

“The bedroom is the best room in the house,” she returns equally out of breath.

“Show me.”

When you get to the bedroom it’s you pushing her against the wall. Your lips attach to her neck sucking harshly.

“Possessive much?” You can feel the vibration of her throaty chuckle against your lips.

You bite down on her exposed skin before soothing it with your tongue, “Is there someone else marking you up like this?”

Her breath hitches at the tone in your voice, “No.”

“Good, because you’re mine now and I don’t like sharing.”

In a swift motion her shirt is over her head and you’re kissing once again. The feeling of her bare skin against your hands only fuels the passion between you. She’s warm and her skin is soft.

Your hand trails down past the waistband of her pants straight for her cunt. She’s already soaked for you. You groan at the feeling of her wetness on your fingers.

“So ready for me baby.”

She whines for you, “Please, inside.”

“Patience professor, you can't have a body like this and expect me not to want to explore it a bit.”

You pull your hand from her underwear. You opt to kiss the top of her breasts while you unhook her bra. Her hands tangle in your hair. As soon as they’re free, your mouth latches on to one of her nipples.

You suckle them, swirling your tongue around the already stiff bud.

“Teeth baby, I like it a little rough.”

You comply, your teeth scraping the skin eagerly. Biting, marking, claiming her as your own. Her hands fall from your hair to climb up your shirt.

“I need to feel you,” she whispers.

You fumble with your shirt and pull it over your head. You see her eyes dilate as she has a full view of your abdomen. She meets your gaze as to ask for permission. Your response is taking your bra off. She takes a hand full of your breasts and you sigh in relief.

She massages them tenderly. At the same time she guides you to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and she straddles your waist. The way she touches you makes you warm on the insides; it’s addictive.

Your hips buck under her weight. She smiles slyly grinding down against your pants. The feeling is obscured by the fabric in-between and so you become desperate to remove it. You start with the button to her jeans. She stands to pull them off and you shimmy yours off while lying on the bed.

You groan at the sight of Agatha’s dripping core. She tries to climb back on to your waist but you use her arms to move her higher up your body. She doesn’t resist, resting her thighs on either side of your head.

Having a whiff of her arousal makes you lose your composure. You bury your face into her juicy pussy.

“Fuck,” she can’t help but rut against your ravenous tongue. “You look so hot under me, baby. God, I’d give you an A plus in eating me out.”

You grunt against her at the praise. Your arms hook over her thighs, keeping her in place.

“Don’t stop,” she roughly grabs your hair, biting her lip as she chases her high.

You take the new pace in stride. Your lips enclose her clit, sucking harshly, remembering her request to be rough. Your hot breath on her clit mixed with the intense sucking is almost enough to make her cum. It’s when your teeth gnaw experimentally at her clit that she comes undone.

From this angle you can see her pussy clenching around nothing. You can’t help yourself as you stick two fingers inside of her. Slowly you pump in and out of her, relishing in the feeling of her walls around your fingers.

“Can you give me another professor?”

“As many as you want, baby. Keep fucking me all night,” she cries out.

You begin pumping at a sharper tempo. You add a third finger and not long after, she’s cumming again.

Finally you move her back into your lap, sitting up to bombard her with your lips. She needed to taste how sweet she was. You only break the kiss to shove your fingers in her mouth.

She hums, bobbing her head up and down your fingers. The sight alone makes your cunt ache. You realize how soaked you are in that moment. Her mouth is almost just as tight and warm as her cunt.

When your fingers fall from her mouth, you gasp. You don’t have a clue as to when Agatha’s hand had neared your pooling heat, but it did. She pulls your panties to the side easily slipping a finger inside of you. Your head falls on her shoulder and she chuckles.

“All worked up from having my pussy in your mouth, sweetheart? My taste has you this wet.”

You nod against her, “All for you, professor. You taste so sweet.”

“And how do you taste sweetheart?”

She slips the finger was inside of you, into her mouth. Her eyes close at the taste, “Fuck, I need more of you.”

She lays you back with your legs hanging off of the edge of the bed. She kneels on the floor, spreading you further for her. Her finger slips back into you and her mouth begins to leave hot open kisses on your thighs. They pace up your thighs before lapping up the drool that spills out of your cunt as she fingers you.

Your hand reaches to caress her face, “I was looking at your fingers in the car. Long, sharp, dexterous, wondering if they would fill me up good, if they would wrap around my neck, and… fuck you feel so good inside of me Agatha.”

With her fingers still inside you she wraps her free hand around your neck, and comes off of the floor to kiss you. Your mouth vibrates against her’s, the pleasure from her fingers making it impossible for you to be quiet.

Agatha pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. She begins to use her thumb to toy with your clit, unwilling to break eye contact.

“Next time, I’ll let you fuck me with a strap. As fast and hard as you want. I’ll shut up and take it for however long you want, in whatever positions you want. How would you fuck me baby?”

You can feel yourself getting impossibly more wet with each one of her words. Her movements slow as you fail to answer.

You begin to squirm, mewling under her will, “Riding me, I-I want to see you bounce on my cock. Your hair to the side trying to steady yourself when I start fucking into you.”

She positions herself so she could grind against your thigh while fingering you.

“How else?”

You gulp involuntary as she moves her hair to one side of her face, “Standing with your face against the wall and my hand around your neck.”

You watch as Agatha fingers you and you feel yourself falling over the edge. She squeezes your throat a little and your eyes drift to her.

“One more baby, I need one more.”

You tense your thigh for her. You make sure your eyes are hard as you look for her, “ I want you on your knees, teary eyed as I fuck your face. I want to hear you gag on it, and fuck if I could I’d shoot my load down your throat. I’d pull you up from the floor and put you in mating press and pound your pussy. I don’t care how sloppy it would get. I want to cum inside you, fill you up. Fuck Agatha, if I could get you pregnant, I’d keep breeding you until we had enough to fill a lecture hall. I’d hold my cum hostage in your cunt, the only way it’d come out is if I decide to eat it out of you.”

You feel her movements stutter on your thigh as an ungodly moan spills from her mouth. The floodgates open and you feel her squirting all over your thigh. The sight of her squirting on you sent you over the edge. You come hard, arching your back off of her bed. Her arms pull your back fully off the bed, so your head is resting against her chest. Your arms are slightly stronger as the hold her up. Her chin rest on the top of your head. Both of you struggle to catch your breath.

“Can I tell you something?” You mumble against her skin.

��Hmm.”

You close your eyes, “I also want to fuck you in the lecture hall; between classes.”

She shivers in your hold, “You aren’t as innocent as you look.”

“You bring it out of me, professor” you lift your head to meet her with a delicate kiss.

“Are you hungry? I was thinking we could shower, heat the food, and maybe watch a movie,” she plays with your hair as she speaks.

You nod, “That sounds perfect."

You wait a few moments, expecting her to get up, “Uh Agatha.”

“I’ll let you know when I think my legs are ok to move,” she answers the question you didn’t even have to ask.

You laugh at her, unable to hold it in. She smacks your shoulder playfully, but it doesn’t stop you.

This wouldn’t be a one-time thing. There was no way that you were willingly to let the sparks between the two of you die here. You had a feeling that Agatha felt the same. There are many more dates to be had, many more nights to spend together, and many more mind-blowing orgasms to give each other.

Next part

#lowkeyerror #agatha x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness

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luffington · 6 months ago

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hihi, how are u⁉️ may i request jealous crocodile and/or doflamingo smut? i am OBSESSED w ur fur & feathers story, you’re an amazing writer!! thank you sm 🙏🫶💓‼️

➤ pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.6k

➤ warnings: dom!crocodile, possessive behavior, spanking, degradation, praise, belly bulge, overstimulation, mentioned breeding kink, established relationship, fem reader

aww i'm glad you like it! i decided to give crocodile some love since i already have a few fics about doffy :3 i had really bad horny brainrot writing this he drives me insane

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Deciding not to join Baroque Works was your own choice, but you shouldn’t be suffering for it.

The crime syndicate’s leader and you had been in a relationship for quite a while. You’d long since accepted his dedication to his job and his workaholic tendencies – a serious job required someone just as serious. But recently, it had gotten to be too much.

He spent sixteen hours a day holed up in his office, pouring over documents and answering calls and meeting with Miss All Sunday. Grunted quiet greetings when he came home at night, climbing into bed beside you then falling asleep immediately. He’d barely said three words to you all week.

You were jealous of the fucking Transponder Snail for how much attention it got. It was time to take matters into your own hands.

So you put on your sluttiest dress, a nice pair of heels, and flashy diamond earrings, then wandered around the massive Rain Dinners casino looking for easy prey. You settled on a drunk average-looking man with a winning streak at roulette. He openly ogled your body as you approached, and smirked lecherously when you asked if the empty seat on his left was taken.

The man clearly wasn’t a local. He didn’t recognize you, even though you weren’t shy about hanging onto Crocodile’s arm in public. And he was much too stupid to notice the casino staff’s constant nervous glances. While laughing and holding your drink, you brushed a flirty hand over his shoulder and pressed your body against him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Crocodile emerge from the staff-only hallway to survey the room. Everything about him commanded attention – his abnormal height, his expensive clothes, his intimidating presence. In a flash, he materialized behind you. Half of his body was still reforming from a whirling sandstorm. Menacing golden eyes shone down at you, but his expression was eerily blank.

The entire casino fell silent. Everyone’s focus was on you.

Crocodile exhaled a pungent cloud of cigar smoke. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Bullshit. He’d hardly looked at you at all for nearly two weeks. Ignoring the shivers running down your spine, you decided to continue taunting him.

“I’m watching my good friend here play roulette! He’s very lucky, he might take all your money home with him.” You didn’t even remember the man’s name, but you lied with a cheeky grin and firmly patted his thigh twice.

Much too friendly for Crocodile’s liking.

Your lover’s eyes narrowed in on the empty martini glass in front of you. “How many of those have you had?”

“I dunno, three? Four?” You turned to the stranger with a saccharine smile. “Were you keeping count?”

The man was frozen in place, terrified into silence at the sight of the eight foot tall Warlord towering above him. His all-consuming fear made him seem like a small animal staring into a Bananawani’s open jaws.

“You’re drunk. You should sit down.” Crocodile’s tone was steady but dangerous. Always aware of his public image, his carefully chosen words made him seem like the perfect gentleman.

“But I am sit–“

A murderous glare cut you off mid-sentence. You realized you’d taken your bratty act as far as it could go – any more might be threatening to your well-being. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rose from your seat and automatically moved to his side. Tucked yourself into the folds of his coat, choosing to look down at your heels rather than his face.

“Make yourself comfortable in my office, darling.” The Warlord patted your shoulder, causing you to flinch. His voice dropped an octave as he growled, “I’d like to speak to this lucky gentleman in private.”

Crocodile’s pristine office was unnervingly quiet. You took a seat on the plush couch facing his desk, nervously bouncing your legs and trying to calm your racing heartbeat. With the lights off, the room was only illuminated by the water surrounding it. Dark shadows of swimming Bananawani regularly moved across the walls. Silly little prey, willingly walking into their nest.

The door suddenly slammed shut behind you. Heavy footsteps slowly approached but you didn’t dare turn around. Rich cologne flooded your nostrils and his golden hook flashed in your peripheral vision.

Your lover stayed quiet, patiently biding his time until the silence finally got to you. Timidly, you asked, “What happened to that man?”

“What man?” Your lover cocked his head to the side, feigning ignorance. After a moment, a sadistic chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Oh, you mean the mummy in the back room. Let’s say he mysteriously disappeared.”

You whipped your head around with wide eyes. “You killed him for me?”

Oddly, you didn’t feel bad about it – that man was a creep. Getting rid of him was probably a blessing for the women of Alabasta.

“Of course. I’d do anything for you, dear.” He sounded sincere, but then leaned down and fiercely whispered, “Except play this stupid game of yours. I like showing you off, not sharing you.”

Soft breath tickled your cheek and the fur lining of his coat brushed against your skin. You felt a fire ignite in your core – he was irresistibly sexy when he became possessive (well, more possessive than usual).

“Have I done something to upset you?” Crocodile kissed and licked down the column of your neck. “Or were you taunting me for fun?”

“Y-You’ve been so busy lately, I was–” The word ‘lonely’ died on your lips when he sunk his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Oh, my poor dear. Are you feeling neglected?” He cooed when you shyly nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to the bite mark. “I’m very sorry. Work’s been out of control recently, but everything will settle down soon. You have my attention now.”

The tip of his hook slid under your dress’s thin shoulder strap, then cleanly tore through it. He repeated the action on the other side until the torn fabric slipped down to reveal your bare breasts.

“Not even wearing a bra?” Your lover clicked his tongue, roughly cupping and caressing your right boob then smacking the soft flesh. “If that man looked down your dress, then his death sentence was too lenient. I should’ve tortured him.”

“You’re so scary,” you giggled, letting your head fall back against his sturdy chest with a content sigh. Grainy fingers traced your areola then rubbed over your hardened nipples. Thankfully, you knew you’d never experience the true extent of his wrath – he adored you.

Without warning, he wrapped his cold hook around your throat. The proximity of its sharp edge to such a dangerous area made your hair stand on end.

“Bend over my desk,” he commanded, gently nipping your ear. “Darling.”

You stumbled over to the enormous desk, legs shaking from anticipation and arousal. Bracing your arms on the polished wood, you arched your back and presented your ass to him. The Warlord took a moment to admire the view, amused by your visible impatience.

“I bought you these,” Crocodile drawled, tracing the waistband of your silky panties with the curved back of his hook. You never saw their price tag, but they felt expensive. He poked your earlobe. “I bought you those earrings, too. They cost more berry than that pathetic man could ever make. Everything about you belongs to me – seems like I have to remind you.”

A large hand came down on your ass hard, jiggling the soft flesh and making you cry out in delight. The collection of rings on his fingers added a delicious extra sting. Three more spanks followed rapidly in the same spot, then four on the other cheek until every part of your ass ached.

Crocodile snickered when you rubbed your thighs together like an animal in heat. A wet spot had already dampened your panties. “Silly little slut. If you wanted to be spanked, you should’ve just asked. No need for all the theatrics.”

“Didn’t have a chance to since you were talking to that Snail all fucking day.” Your petulant mumble quickly turned into a yelp when his hand brutally struck the crease of your thighs. Making sure you’d feel the sting every time you sat down. He grabbed the roots of your hair and yanked your head back.

“Watch your tone,” Crocodile growled. The Warlord released you, catching you before your limp body hit the desk and easily flipped you onto your back. A wicked smirk almost as wide as his scar spread across his face. He hungrily observed your body like a predator about to pounce.

He pulled down your panties with an unnerving carefulness – he didn’t want to damage his property, after all. Then he roughly spanked your bare pussy. Your surprised cry of pain echoed throughout the empty room. Satisfied with your reaction, he did it again and again until your folds turned puffy.

Crocodile spread your cunt using the back of his hook so he could land a direct hit on your sensitive clit. The impact on your bundle of nerves sent electric shocks throughout your body, your back arching painfully off the table. Your lover chuckled and swiped two fingers through your drenched folds.

“Who else can make you this wet?” Crocodile webbed your juices between his fingers before bringing them to your lips. Obediently opening your mouth, you suckled and swirled your tongue around them. Paying extra attention to his rings, making sure the precious jewels shined with your spit. Though it was a rhetorical question, he pulled his fingers out to hear your response.

“No one.” You answered honestly, your eyes dilated with lust and chest heaving. “Just you.”

“You’re damn right.” Crocodile unlatched his belt, letting his trousers hit the floor with a metallic clang. His enormous dick smacked against his pelvis, rock hard and leaking pearly precum. You unconsciously licked your lips at the sight. “Can’t let another cock can satisfy you, either. I need to ruin you for anyone else.”

Demanding you to look directly at him, he lined up his tip with your hole and thrust his hips forward. Slowly at first – his massive cock often met resistance in your tiny cunt – but after the first few inches, he slammed the entire length inside. Knocking all the air out of your lungs, your head lolling back on the desk. Crocodile stayed like that, appreciating the pretty bulge in your belly.

“Crocodile, please…”

“My name sounds perfect on your lips.” That predatory gaze was back, the need to possess you overwhelming his thoughts. Your lover pulled back until only the tip remained in your dripping pussy, then harshly rammed his dick in all the way.

Quickly setting a rough pace, Crocodile palmed at your tits with rough hands then leaned into the crook of your neck, whispering a dizzying mix of praise and degrading phrases. All of your coherent thoughts vanished from your brain.

You clutched onto his coat to ground yourself, to not get lost in the sea of pleasure washing over you. His cock was too fucking big. Too fucking good. It bullied its way inside your wet walls, permanently reshaping them to the perfect fit as he called you his pretty little cocksleeve.

Over a week’s worth of pent-up sexual urges were quickly coming to a head. Crocodile knew your body so well that he immediately recognized the signs of your impending orgasm. He reached his hand between your bodies to rub circles on your clit, pinching and pulling the sensitive nub for good measure.

“H-Holy fuck, ahhh, shit, I’m gonna…”

The Warlord smirked cruelly and paused his movements with his cock halfway inside you. “Apologize for being a brat. For even looking at that worthless man.”

If you had a stronger resolve, you could’ve kept this game going even longer. Asked him to apologize for ignoring you. Maybe even gotten a few more spanks out of it. But you needed to cum, and you desperately needed his giant cock to move.

“I’m sorry,” you panted desperately. “I won’t be bratty anymore, I promise. You’re the only man I’ll ever want. I’ll do anything, just – please, please, let me cum.”

“Very good girl.” Crocodile rewarded you by sensually rolling his hips to stir your insides around. Snickering, he admitted, “Although, I do enjoy when you act up every once in a while. You’re especially sexy when you submit to me.”

Your lover resumed fucking you hard enough to make the desk creak. Legs shaking with every thrust, your eyes were unfocused and the only thought in your head was how full you felt. Looking down, you dreamily watched the bump in your stomach move up and down as his dick rearranged your guts.

“Scream my name loud enough for the entire casino to hear when you cum. Let them know who owns you.”

Just one scream wasn’t enough for you – you chanted his name like a prayer as your orgasm hit you in full force. Juices gushed around Crocodile’s cock and dripped down his balls. He lazily fondled your clit to help you through it, only pulling away once the aftershocks had subsided. You lay limply on the desk, face flushed and chest heaving.

Belatedly, you realized that Crocodile hadn’t budged. A concerning sign.

“You… you didn’t cum?”

“This soon? Of course not. I didn’t commit murder for one measly orgasm,” he chuckled. “Evidently, I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Your cunt better be prepared.”

“W-wait, give me a minute –”

“No, dear, you were right. I spent too much time ignoring you. You deserve all my love.” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that knocked his mushroom tip against your cervix. “And affection.” Another thrust. “And every inch of my cock.”

Filthy squelching sounds and your lover’s balls slapping against your ass accompanied your overwhelmed scream. Tears pricked at your eyes as he increased his pace, your brain becoming as mushy as your cunt.

“Such a perfect pussy. Only a real man like me can treat it properly.” Crocodile murmured smugly. Leaning down to press his body flush against yours, his muscular pecs squished against your tits. His normally slicked-back hair was coming undone, strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. Dizzying pleasure washed over you when his fingers found your clit again.

Crocodile felt his balls tighten, but held himself back from the edge by slowing down to a relaxed grind, focusing all of his attention on you. You fucking lost your mind when he spelled each letter of his name on your sensitive bundle of nerves. A second orgasm washed over you in a bright light, your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you murmured absolute nonsense mixed with cries of his name.

Your cunt clamping down on his cock like a vice sent him over the edge. At the very last second, Crocodile pulled out to spurt thick stripes of cum across your stomach. With a deep, satisfied groan, he jerked himself to completion until your skin was painted white. Fully marking you as his own.

Satisfaction and exhaustion made your eyes flutter shut, but Crocodile ensured you stayed awake by giving you a surprisingly tender forehead kiss. Cradling your cheek, he asked, “Feel better?”

“My ass hurts, but yes. I feel great.” You nodded with a fucked-out grin, chasing his lips for a real kiss which he eagerly granted.

“Good. As pretty as you look covered in my cum, the next load is going inside you. I need to fuck a baby into my beautiful girl.”

His next load? Your eyes widened when he began stroking his cock again, still soft but beginning to twitch with interest. Turning your head, you met the downward-turned eyestalks of his shut-off Transponder Snail.

#bananawani comparison bc it's what he would've wanted #sir crocodile smut #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile imagine #crocodile smut #dom!crocodile #crocodile x reader #crocodile imagine #one piece smut #one piece x reader #sir crocodile #crocodile #request #anon #mine #my fics #croc

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missriddle03 · 3 months ago

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Title: You cry, I cry

parings: fem!reader x mattheo riddle

Small synopsis: Mattheo can't deal with his father and his anxiety is getting the better of him but his girlfriend is there to help him

Time to read: 10mins (average)

Word count: just under 2k

Warnings: Angst, written panic attack, two swear words

Song recommended: cry by cigarettes after sex

It was a typical school day in the world of hogwarts. The Slytherins were due to share a class with the Gryfindors, whilst the Hufflepuffs were with the Ravenclaws. It wasn’t time for class so Mattheo and his friends were in the astronomy tower.

“You know, it’s actually quite a nice view up here” Theo had said as he was taking a drag from his cigarette. The sky was a pale blue but the clouds were coming in and some little hues of grey became more and more noticeable as the day went on. Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore were the only ones there as Draco and Blaise were helping Professor Snape with a potion for class. “Have you brought y/n up here?” Lorenzo asked Mattheo.

No answer.

“Mattheo?” he repeated.

No answer.

Theodore clicked his fingers in front of his face and soon enough his gaze diverted to him. “What?” Mattheo answered. Theo let out a little chuckle not sure whether to be worried or brush it off. “You zoned out, Enzo asked if you brought y/n here before or not” His italian accent was becoming prominent on certain words but his friends understood him and that was all he cared about. “Oh..i-uh-yeah I have. I brought her here at night and she really liked seeing the stars. She loves astronomy so I had to bring her here” a slight smile formed on his face remembering the night that he brought her there. Mattheo and y/n had been friends since the day they both arrived, she didn’t care about who he was or even who he was related to and then one day he asked her to be his girlfriend..of course she said yes. “You are not your parents, don’t compare yourself to them. You can choose who you want to be and sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to in order to find out who we are and that’s okay. I’ll be with you the whole time”

Theodore didn’t want to admit to himself that his friend might need help, he noticed Mattheo zoning out more often than normal and he hardly spoke unless y/n was around but it wasn’t the case of missing the girl who took his heart it was the case that he put up a smile for her not wanting her to judge him for not being able to cope. Mattheo didn’t want y/n involved with the dark parts of his mind or the dark part of him that involves his family. “Y/n’s a lucky girl” Enzo stated, looking out past the railing. Suddenly a Gryffindor came onto the astronomy tower, it was a girl who looked similar to y/n but; of course it wasn’t. “You know..Dumbledore should really watch who he invites in this school. He shouldn’t let descendants of a murderer into here. You three are exactly like your parents” the girl said.

Mattheo’s heart was pounding out of his chest but only registered those last seven words. “Leave before I make you wish you hadn’t spoken to us, Stronza” (bitch) his knuckles turned white as he tightened them getting ready to punch the girl. Neither of the boys had a good relationship with their parents, Theo’s mother died when he was young and it pained him to see people with their mothers but his father was his worst enemy. From a young age he had been taught all the unforgivable curses and as soon as he turned 16 he was forced to become a death eater and he knew his life wouldn’t get better. Lorenzo had a complicated relationship with Bellatrix; his mother was also the mother of Mattheo. His father wasn’t in the picture and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. The girl left the astronomy tower feeling frightened by the threat that had left Theo’s mouth. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he instructed Mattheo but it already had gotten to his head. “I’m gonna go I’ll see you guys later” was his final words before getting up from the chair and heading to his dorm and took a cigarette and took a long inhale before falling onto his bed, burying his head into his pillows.

Theodore took a deep breath and sat down. “I’m worried about him, Enzo” he muttered, more to himself than to Enzo’s ears. “I know..I am too”

“The best part was the love confession, this book has my heart” y/n said to her friend Pansy. Y/n was a big bookworm and Pansy loved hearing about her recent endeavours in reading, “I just don’t see it! If it’s a love triangle you want the girl to end up with the bad boy and not the soft guy because she will just walk all over him and the good boy will keep her trapped. You should know all about bad boys” Pansy joked as she let out a giggle. “Shut up” Y/n laughed. “I’m not joking I-”

“Y/n!” someone called out interrupting Pansy. Theodore came running into the library standing next to the girls. “What? Is Mattheo okay?” Immediately getting out of her seat as worry took a hold of her. He shook his head before continuing, “I don’t know, I don’t think he’s doing well mentally” She lightly ran her hand through her head, Mattheo’s mental health wasn’t something that was new to her he had panic attacks that paralysed him until he calmed down and his head was all over the place and only himself could bring him out of it. “Where is he?” she asked Theo. “I’m not sure but I think he’ll be in class” Y/n let out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding before Theo placed his hands around her and warmed her into a hug. “He’ll be okay, he will be”

“I’m just worried..I don’t want anything to happen to him”

“I know”

Pansy closed the book they were reading and placed it back on the shelf before taking y/n’s hand. “Come on, let’s go to class then” Theo sent her a smile before the three of them left the library and went to potions. It was exam day and it stressed everyone out, they all took their seats but one seat was empty.

Mattheo’s. Y/n's head was running a mile about where he was, if he was okay and why he wasn’t there but luckily her mind was put at ease a few moments later. “Mr Riddle, please take your seat” Professor Snape said. He walked in and sat down next to y/n, “Hey Love, you okay?” he whispered. “Yes I am, but are you okay?”

Mattheo took out his pen and wrote his name on his test and nodded his head. “You don’t need to lie to me” He turned his head around and pointed his finger up at her “Stop asking if I’m okay because I am so just leave it at that”

Looking down, y/n wrote a note to Theodore and placed it on the floor kicking it to him (he was in front of them)

He isn’t telling me anything

Y/n maybe ask about it again

No, I can’t I don’t want to make him more upset than he already is

Don’t you want to know what’s going on? Cara

Yes

Si so do I, listen Mattheo hasn’t cared about someone as much as he cares about you.He just doesn’t want to show that he has a problem. He sees that as a weakness.

I care about him more than he knows and he knows that no matter what he says I am not the type of person to use it against him. He needs to tell me himself

If he tells you please tell me, he’s my best friend and I hate seeing him like that

Of course I’ll tell you Theo. You’re his best friend too

A smile was brought to Theo’s face but Y/n’s attention was shortly shifted once she saw Mattheo with his chair back a little. His leg was bouncing up and down as his chest was moving at a rapid rate.

Blurriness took over him as he stood up,looked around the classroom, and bolted. Leaving y/n as she took a look at Theo. She put her hand up and asked to be excused to the bathroom and Snape granted her permission.

My heart was racing as I began my search for Mattheo. I knew it wasn’t going to get better but I atleast thought that he was going to tell me..maybe Theo was right I should have asked him more about it. “Mattheo!” I called out but he didn’t respond. I ran through the hallway but I didn’t see him. I decided to go to his dorm thinking that maybe he would be in there. His door was left ajar and a figure was now noticeable. He was sitting in front of his bed with his head in between his legs. I was frightened for him, I walked over to sit down next to him but he didn’t register that it was me. “Matt, please look at me” sobs escaped his lips. “No, go away” his breathing was still all over the place. I took his hand and his tear stained cheeks finally looked at me. “I-I can’t br-reathe”

“Copy my breathing okay..breathe in..”

“Breathe out..Breathe in..Breathe out”

Eventually his breathing had settled but his hands were still shaking. “I’m sorry..I’m really sorry” he cried. I couldn’t bear seeing him like this, “It’s not your fault, don’t feel like you have to hide this side of you” Mattheo wiped his tears. I hadn’t seen this side of him and quite frankly I don’t want to..it hurts too much. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I asked him. His eyes moved away from me but my hand never left his.

“It’s becoming too real, my father wants me to be a ruler like him and I can’t. I can’t lose you either, I’m only going to make you cry, I'm only going to hurt you. All day everyday all I see is him no matter what I’m doing I know I’m gonna be just like him. Everyone else sees it, I mean this Gryffindor came up to me and my friends and said exactly what everyone else says. I can’t live in fear of not knowing what’s going to happen. I’m only going to make everyone turn against you”

Tears began to fill up my eyes, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, and who cares what they say. They don’t know what you are really like..all they see is that one side. The side that they get told but they don’t realise how different you are. How sweet you are, how thoughtful you are. I mean maybe you punched a kid but guess what? So have I. If loving you makes me a villain I don’t fucking care. You mean so much to me that all my friends can leave me and hate me but it will be worth it for you”

“I love you,” he choked out. His brown curly hair stuck to his forehead, he placed his head in the crook of my neck and wrapped his arm around my waist. “I love you too, if you feel another anxiety attack..come to me”

He nodded his head and fell asleep.

If you liked this please give a like/follow/reblog much appreciated and if you want tags here is my masterlist to check out :)

Thank you for reading <3

#theodore nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #benjamin wadsworth #x reader #y/n fanfic #masterlist #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin boys #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo zurzolo #louis partridge #angst #fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfic #tags #Spotify #chloè writes

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seokmn · 8 days ago

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OPTION ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader wc: 1.8k words warnings: reader wears earrings; mention of ways to die (in a “comic” way)

“lucky i’m in love with my best friend”

If there was something you never gave up on it was to find love. From toxic relationships to pointless dates, you never thought that love wasn’t for you, it was probably because you always thought that the Universe was on its way to finally make you meet your soulmate.

Someone followed you closely during this journey, your best friend, Wonwoo. You always counted on him for everything and vice versa.

You both had differences, but the most important one was the fact that you were constantly trying to find your soulmate, while Wonwoo seemed to not even try. You lost count of the number of times you went clubbing together and you kept pointing at pretty people, telling him to make a move on them, just to have a ’Nah, I’m good’ as a response.

“Alright, what do you think about this outfit? It’s nice, right? Not too much to not make him think that I’m desperate to show myself off and not too little to make him think that I’m being forced to go on a date with him and I’d rather be at home eating lamen.” You positioned your phone on your desk and took a few steps back and gave a little spin to show your outfit to your best friend.

Wonwoo’s gaze left the computer and went to his phone, analyzing your outfit. “I guess it’s fine, you know I’m not the best person to ask about this. To me, you’re fine.”

“But do I look just fine or do I look fine fine?”

“You look fine fine, Y/N,” Wonwoo chuckled and looked at his computer once again. “By the way, where is he taking you?”

“You know that small and cozy restaurant near a private school? My date will be there,” you said as you put on your earrings. “People say the food there is delicious, maybe you should go with your date one day. Oh, wait, you don’t have a date!”

“Ha ha ha ha, very funny. I can go by myself if I want to.”

“Right, Mr. Lonely. I’m gonna go now, wish me luck!”

Wonwoo looked at his cellphone screen and gave you a small smile as he saw you all dressed up and excited for your date, waving at him before ending the FaceTime call. He sighed and looked back to his computer screen, getting his attention back to the game he was previously playing.

You probably went to more dates than an average person with the same age as you, but all of them were purposeless because of your high standards. It’s not a bad thing to have high standards, you really should have the love that you think you deserve and do not settle down for less. But your standards were very specific when it came to how the guy should treat you and how he should see life. You didn’t even realize, but Wonwoo made himself your standard over the years, and it was extremely hard, almost impossible, to overcome him.

This date wasn’t different, you found yourself bored and wishing that a piano would fall right on your head just so the date was over. The guy in front of you clearly didn’t meet your standards, in fact, you bet he didn’t meet anyone’s standards.

You excused yourself and went to the bathroom. You took your phone out of your purse and called Wonwoo.

”Hey, you busy?” “Yes,” you could hear a background noise. “I’m watching a movie. Why? Weren’t you supposed to be on your date?” “So…” “Let me guess, he’s a dickhead, isn’t he?” “Everytime he opens his mouth I wish someone would shoot me in the head with a bazooka,” you sighed. “Help me out, Wonu, please.” “What do you want me to do? Just say the word and I’ll do it.” “Call me in ten minutes, okay?” “And say what?” “Anything, you can say anything or even nothing at all, I’ll handle it. Just call me, please.” “Got it. See ya.”

You hung up, changed Wonwoo’s contact name to ‘Auntie 💞’ and left the bathroom, getting back to the table you and your date were. You kept pretending to be interested in him and in his jokes that hid a hint of misogyny, just wishing that those 10 minutes would pass in a blink of an eye.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your phone rang and the name Auntie 💞 was on display. You frowned, faking surprise and worry.

“It’s my aunt, sorry, but I gotta answer.” The guy just nodded with a smile on his face and kept looking at you while you picked up the phone.

“Auntie? Is everything alright? I’m actually in the middle of something… What?” You shifted in the chair, your face darkening even though there was a complete silence coming from the other line. “You fell? No- it’s okay, where are you?”

“Meet me at our favorite convenience store.” The silence was finally broken, Wonwoo’s voice was low and calm as always.

“Okay, I’m on my way. Don’t you dare move a single inch, auntie.”

You hung up and looked at the guy with an apologetic expression. “I’m so sorry, my auntie fell off the bed and she has no one to help her, she hit her arm and-“

“It’s okay, we can continue our date another day, right?”

You gave him a small smile, little did he know that the first thing you’d do after getting back home was to block him on every social media. “Right, thanks for understanding. We’ll talk later and thank you for your time, it was really good getting to know you.”

And with that, you left, letting out a deep sigh as soon as he wasn’t able to hear you anymore because of the distance. You smiled to yourself, feeling free that you were far away from that guy, and walked towards the convenience store you and Wonwoo love.

Getting there, you found Wonwoo sitting by himself with two lamens, one he was already eating and the other was closed with chopsticks on top.

“Is it for me?” You smiled and sat beside him, already taking the chopsticks and opening the lamen, only to find out it was actually ready.

“Since your date ended earlier than expected, I thought that you might be still hungry.”

“Well, you were right. I’m starving! Thank you for the food~” You started to eat, not caring about Wonwoo watching you.

He watched you eat for a few seconds before looking at his own lamen and eating it as well. The only thing that could be heard was your humming, signaling that you were finding the lamen delicious, and the noise from other clients.

“Hey,” Wonwoo finally broke the silence. “I have a question.”

You looked at him, waiting for him to keep going and ask his question.

“This might be the seventh time I help you to leave a boring date. Why do you still try so hard to go on dates?”

You nodded and placed down the chopsticks, your arms rested on the table as you looked at him with a small and hopeful smile on your face. “Because I still believe in love. I still think there’s a guy out there that is my soulmate, that is the one for me, and if I don’t go after him, I will never find him. You can’t find your soulmate if you don’t go out and meet new people, Wonu.”

“You’re saying like I don’t believe in love.” Wonwoo chuckled and shook his head before eating again.

“And do you believe in love? I never saw you going on dates or trying to pursue someone.”

“I do believe in love and try to pursue the person that I have feelings for, but the person is quite difficult.”

“What?!” You shouted and soon lowered your voice in a whisper. “You like someone and I never knew about it? Who is it?”

Wonwoo ignored you and kept finishing his lamen.

“Jeon Wonwoo, who is it?”

“Guess.”

“If you don’t tell me I’ll delete all the progress you made in that silly game at my place.”

Wonwoo looked at you as if you threatened him to kill his entire family. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You know I would. Now tell me who you like, please~” You pouted and looked at him with shiny eyes.

“I’m looking at them.”

You laughed. “Yah! that’s not fun-“ you stopped laughing and your expression turned into a serious one. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“Why would I joke about such a thing?”

You swallowed hard and started to think about your best friend’s words. Everything started to make sense, there was a reason behind all of his romantic yet very subtle gestures that you were only able to see that they were romantic at that moment.

“For how long have you been liking me?”

“For quite a while now. I’ve always tried to look available to you, but you never chose me. I didn’t want to be bold because I don’t know how you feel towards me, so it’s better to have you beside me as my best friend than not having you at all.”

“How could I ever choose you if I never knew you were an option?! Ya-“ you groaned in frustration. “You could've flirted with me or something like that!”

“I did, but in a subtle way.”

“Well, but now I know! What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” he looked at you, his eyes held so much love and hope that was almost overwhelming to look at. “What do you want me to do about this?”

“Ask me on a date?”

Wonwoo smiled and cleared his throat. “Y/N, do you want to go on a date with me?”

“I mean, I guess so. Maybe you’re my soulmate, who knows.” You tried to act cool.

“Great, I’ll think about some good date ideas and I’ll let you choose which one you like the most.” He sighed happily and took your lamen from you, using his chopsticks to eat it and ease the tension. “Wah, why is yours better than mine?”

“Asshole, you ate yours and now want to eat mine?!” You tried to take the lamen away from him, but he didn’t let you and laughed while eating it. You stopped trying and looked at him with a frown. “If you don’t give my lamen back, I won’t go on a date with you.”

Wonwoo’s laughter died and he immediately pushed the lamen to your side. “I- huh.. I’ll buy myself another one then. Wait here.”

You smiled and got back to happily eating it, you glanced at Wonwoo trying to pick a lamen and your smile turned into a grin. You felt your heart getting warmer and you felt a feeling you’ve never felt before.

Maybe your soulmate was right in front of you the entire time, but you were too blind to see it and were looking for affection in all the wrong places, forgetting about the only one that felt like the right one, emotionally and rationally speaking.

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writingonleaves · 26 days ago

Text

to not know who i am, but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, nothing much else i can think of!

inspired by + title: i like me better by lauv

word count: 6.4k

author's note: hello everyone!! i feel like i've been in such a rut lately but i'm glad i managed to write this one out! this is for the lovely @wyattjohnston for her winter fic exchange 2k25. demi, thank you as always for your hard work in putting this together and i hope you enjoy. sorry that it's a few days late! to everyone, please let me know what you think!!

*****

When Maia Flaherty left her usual lunchtime coffee run with a number from one very Jack Hughes, she didn’t really quite know what to think.

“No pressure,” he had said with an easy smile. “I just think you’re pretty and the glare you gave that couple that was making out at the table next to you sold it for me.”

As she stares out on her train ride home, she’s deep in thought. This might be just a one date thing and then they find out they have nothing in common and they move on. But she knows herself. She doesn’t fall fast, but when she falls, she falls hard. What if she ends up falling harder than him, setting herself up for heartbreak. But she knows that’s also unfair to him, especially because she doesn’t know him. She appreciates his boldness in asking her out, but she doesn’t understand how he can be so confident and sure that he wants to go on a date with her. To be fair, maybe he’s only looking for something casual, to which she has even less of an idea of how to handle it, because she has never done casual and doesn’t think she could do it.

As she’s walking the streets back to her place in West Village, she thinks about how to approach this. Knowing her, she’s too curious to not text him and she probably will think on it over the weekend. But, should she protect herself and go into this as just meeting a friend or go into this romantically? She admits that he is cute and she was the slightest bit charmed by him, but she knows that she knows nothing else about him. She takes the time to look up some of his highlights of his career (he had dropped his Instagram handle to her “just so you know I’m a real person”) and she knows that he’s good. Almost annoyingly good. As a University of Minnesota alum, she’s familiar enough with hockey as a whole. She stalks his Instagram and doesn’t find anything much besides posts with family, friends and teammates. Pretty average. But she’s still weary.

Monday morning rolls around, and on her train to work, she takes a deep breath, clicking on his contact and copy and pasting what she had written last night.

hi!!! it’s maia from the cafe. if the offer still stands, i’d love to go out on that date

Not even a minute later, and she gets a response.

what a wonderful text to get on a Monday morning

the offer absolutely still stands. what’s your schedule looking like this week?

not around during regular people work hours so monday-friday 9-5 won’t work

my weekend is pretty empty atm but idk if that works for you? i’m assuming you have games this week

no games this weekend, for once. all weeknight games.

lucky timing

lucky indeed. you around Saturday for lunch?

works for me!

you’re in jersey right? i can come out to you if that’s easier

are you kidding me?

i’m not gonna make you come out to me, especially because I’m the one who asked you out

where are you in the city? I’ll come to you

She smiles to herself.

I’m in west village, but i can meet you anywhere

i’ll do some research after practice and get back to you?

sure

i also can suggest some places as well!!

appreciate it. i got it though. i’m the one who asked so I feel like it’d be unfair to ask you to plan

Huh, she thinks, being surprised again. She doesn’t have much to compare to, but she can’t remember a single date she’s been on where she hasn’t been the one planning.

okay lmk if you need my help! no rush we have a whole week

(Jack has a break in a morning practice and he’s just staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. His teammates are all making fun of him, but he pays them no mind. It’s not new for them to poke fun at him for texting girls, but he knows, he just knows that this one is different.

He also kinda likes the idea of “we.”)

kinda wish we didn’t

oh?

saturday is so far away

you’ll survive

She gets into the office just then and her phone is forgotten as she’s thrown into spreadsheets and meetings. It isn’t until 4 p.m. where she has the mental energy and time to look at his responses. The last text he had sent was two hours ago.

i found a place. well, a couple

i asked some of my friends who know the city better than I do

*screenshot of list in Notes app*

i tried to find places in different parts of Manhattan, mostly in West Village. i don’t know where exactly in that area you are and how easy or hard it is for you to get wherever

sorry, just realized I’m spamming you and you’re probably working

I’m so sorry i left you hanging work was literally insane until now

honestly all of these places sound wonderful

i’ve been to a couple of them before so tell your friends they have good taste

any one in particular you like?

you choose

since you’re planning it after all

lol

i really don’t want you having to travel that far

i literally live in nyc so if I want to see any of my friends who don’t live by me I have to travel far

and you’re literally coming from jersey

i’ll be fine with any choice you make

seriously

He chooses one of her favorite Greek food joints about 10 blocks from where she is and she tries to put it away in her mind. She still has this whole week to go. She’s known for years that she gets overwhelmed and stressed if she thinks ahead occasionally, and this is definitely one of those times.

(There’s a game on Wednesday night, and her best friend and roommate Carrie urges her to put it on TV in the background while they’re eating dinner. Carrie knows next to nothing about hockey, so Maia tries to explain it to her. But most of the time, she’s quiet and her eyes are zeroed in on 86. Or trying to, because everyone skates so fucking fast. He scores a goal and assists another, and she knows that that’s literally his job, but she can’t help but feel something watching him skate around so confidently.

She’s always respected the skill it takes to play hockey. Skating is hard. But the hockey attitude wasn’t always something that she loved. She understands that she’s projecting a lot of unwarranted judgement. But she doesn't think it’s all based on lies.

As the minutes wind down in the game, she zones out. She really doesn’t understand how or why this literal superstar of the sport just approached her and after knowing literally nothing about her, asked her out. This shit doesn’t happen to her. She also knows the usual crowd that hockey players go for. She’s not blonde. She’s not a model. She’s not anything like that.

What does he want from her?)

*****

She wakes up Saturday morning a bit groggy, thanks to the glasses of wine her and Carrie had the night before. She goes through her morning routine, but decides to forgo the coffee and make a smoothie instead. She usually likes to sip on her coffee for hours rather than down it all in one go. And she knows if she downs it, she’ll start shaking.

She doesn’t need to be shaking today.

Carrie stumbles out when Maia just leaves the bathroom and offers to make a smoothie for her. With a yawn, Carrie nods as she slides past her to go into the bathroom.

It’s 9:48 a.m. They’re meeting right at noon, so she has a bit of time. Her phone buzzes right after she finishes cleaning the blender.

good morning! see you soon

She just sends back a couple of emojis, before scrolling around on her social media accounts, sipping on her smoothie. It’s just the waiting now that’s making her more nervous.

She already knows what she’s gonna wear. An olive green sweater she bought recently that she’s been loving, black leggings, brown booties and earrings that she got years ago when she studied abroad. She’s leaving her hair down and putting some light makeup on. Nothing crazy. This is literally lunch. And she’s not gonna overthink for a boy.

Carrie proves to be a good distraction, simultaneously hyping her up, assuring her and talking about other things to keep her head level. She walks to the subway station and goes on the train, airpods in. This is all routine. The way there is no stranger to her, often meeting up with her brother for dinner around the area.

She checks the time. On time.

She approaches the restaurant’s front at 11:57 and decides to walk in and grab a table. She stops in her tracks when she sees that he’s already there, in the corner by the window that she usually loves to sit at. He’s wearing a gray sweater and blue jeans, a baseball cap flipped backwards on his head. She waves off the hostess and heads in his direction.

He looks up from his phone and immediately locks it, standing up. She smiles in greeting and he comes around to grab her bag as she shrugs off her jacket. She thanks him softly, to which he just smiles back at. As she’s sitting down, he pours out some water.

“You didn’t get lost getting here?” She jokes.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not that directionally challenged. Just not used to it.”

“That’s what you get for living in Jersey.”

“Oh. So that’s how we’re gonna play this?”

And that just sets the tone for the rest of the date. It’s…surprisingly easy. The follow up question immediately is if she’s from the city, to which she snorts and says “absolutely not,” but she’s been living here for over two years now. She grew up in Buffalo, she says, and went to college at University of Minnesota, to which he, of course, widens his eyes. “You went to Minnesota, and you’re not a hockey fan?” She rolls her eyes. “When did I say I’m not a hockey fan?” She talks about how yes, she went to a couple of games when she was there and they were always fun, but she wasn’t necessarily an avid fan.

He talks about growing up in Toronto even though he was born in Orlando and then going to Michigan and how hockey was literally just his life from a young age, especially with parents who were also involved, as well as an older and a younger brother growing up to play too. Sure, she knows all of this (she couldn’t help herself and did enough research), but it is nice and different to hear from him directly. She does slip for a second and makes fun of his private school upbringing (“It tracks.”) but the shocked delight on his face lets her know that he doesn’t take offense.

As they order the food and it comes and they start eating, she lets herself be charmed. She didn’t expect him to be so…normal. Normal in the way that she often forgot that he was one of the best hockey players in the country. Normal in the way that parts of him remind her of her closest guy friends. But then he would mention something about his career or just a random detail in his life that would make her remember.

She notices that he also is very aware of how much he talks. It’s natural for her to ask more questions, because that’s just how she’s wired, but he turns questions back to her that excite her or make her laugh, and then she goes on a minor tangent. It’s very back and forth. Balanced.

She’s having a really good time.

She expected him to be more…straight-forward in terms of flirting, due to how he asked her out, but he’s not. He seems a bit nervous at times even, chuckling adorably and avoiding eye contact, but then he says something that’s so just so incredibly confident that makes her flustered or let out a scoff of disbelief.

Before they know it, they’re done eating. She protests when he immediately grabs the check and pulls out his card, to which he just playfully glares at her for. She does relent and thanks him, and she’ll never forget the boyish smile he gave her.

They’re both on the same page, not wanting their time together to end quite yet, lingering to leave. And then she suggests grabbing a coffee from a place around the corner and walking to a nearby park. She teases him, asking if he’ll get cold to which he scoffs at (“I’m basically a Canadian and I live at the rink. I’ll be fine. Will you?” She laughs. “I was born and raised in Buffalo. Don’t worry about me.”)

They grab coffee (to which she puts her foot down and pays and he lets her), him a black coffee and her an iced chai, and she leads them leisurely to a nearby park. It’s a little chilly, but it’s not windy which is good, and they find an empty bench and sit down, their conversation and battering just coming so incredibly easy. Even to the point where sometimes, she’s not necessarily calling him out, but she’s challenging some of his thoughts. She’s not shattering his confidence at all, but definitely subtly giving him a reality check and just being honest.

And not even purposefully. It’s just how she is.

(He really appreciates it, actually. It’s been awhile since someone who he’s just met isn’t afraid to challenge him off the rink. He loves the attention and always has, and she’s giving that to him, but there’s also something innate in her that’s so grounded and in turns, grounds him.)

But it’s also different. It’s different when he randomly throws out a compliment here and there, saying how he loves her laugh and how cute she is. The way he’s paying attention to everything she’s saying. The way he just can’t help but chuckle almost incredulously because she’s so much more than he imagined, even though he’s the one who asked her out.

Before they know it, it’s almost 4 and they’ve been chatting the whole time. Yet somehow, it still feels like they could keep going. She walks him to the nearest subway station since it’s on her way home. She gives him a farewell hug and he follows his gut and kisses her on the cheek, promising to text her. She smiles one more time before turning to walk back to her apartment.

When she gets back to her place, Carrie’s there and ready for a recap. She says everything she can remember them talking about, which is a lot, while Carrie just listens carefully. Throughout it, she’s trying to downplay it, probably for self-preservation purposes, looking back. Carrie lets her dwell on it occasionally, but also interrupts when needed to try to assure her friend that she’s a catch and there’s a reason he asked her out in the first place and she can’t play herself down like that.

What she knows for a fact at this point is that she likes spending time with him, and she does have romantic feelings for him. Everything else? She has no idea. She has no idea if they’d pair together well. She has no idea what he wants from this. She has no idea how he actually feels about her, because he could’ve just thrown out those compliments because he’s naturally flirty. It wouldn’t surprise her. And god, she can’t help but let her mind wander into his career and being in the spotlight and how that just affects…everything.

She just doesn’t know.

(Meanwhile, he returns to an empty place, Luke out with some friends for the night. He can’t stop smiling, replaying the whole day in his head. She’s just so much more than he expected, able to keep up with his quips, often beating them. She laughs and smiles so freely. She’s so damn smart. She’s beautiful.

He’s had his fair share of hookups and casual things, but this? This is different. It’s scary, he thinks, that he’s this invested after one date. It’s unfamiliar territory, and there’s so much more he wants to know about her.

He needs to know everything he can about her. Before she figures out that she’s way too good for him.)

*****

Four weeks pass, and they haven’t seen each other. There have been some sporadic texts here and there, but with the chaos of both their jobs and then Thanksgiving, it hasn’t accounted to more than that.

(She’s trying to get over it and let it pass. He wants anything but that)

On an early December evening, Maia’s just finished cleaning up the dishes when she gets a call. When she sees his name, she blinks. She clicks accept.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Jack.”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

“How are you? How was your Thanksgiving?”

“I’m doing okay. Thanksgiving was good! I got to go back home for a few days. How about you? Did you even have a break?”

“Not really. I had some family come to watch some games though, so that was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” she hums.

“Listen-I…I know it’s been awhile.”

“Almost a month.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out guiltily. “I-I’m really sorry about that. I’ve…the season’s just been so crazy and, yeah. I’ve been meaning to reach out sooner, but just, like. Yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she replies automatically. “I get it. Your schedule is crazy. I feel like you have a game every other day.”

“You’ve been keeping up?” He teases lightly.

She rolls her eyes. “A bit more than I used to, sure. But that really doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs a bit, before settling down into a serious tone. “If you have time, or if you even want to, because I totally understand why you wouldn’t, I’d love to go out again. I just, I had a really good time with you last time. Again, I know I…if you say no, I get it.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, but she knows her answer. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she smiles to herself at his surprised tone. “You surprised?”

“A bit. I mean, I kinda fell off the face of the planet. I would understand if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

He sighs. “This week? Not much, unfortunately. I’m only around for dinner tomorrow and Friday, and then I’m gone for a few days on a stretch of away games.”

“Wanna do tomorrow?”

“You around?”

She snorts. “I’m not as busy as you are, Mr. NHL. I’m free most weeknights.”

He lets out a low laugh. “Okay, yeah. Tomorrow night’s perfect. I’ll actually be in the city in the afternoon to meet up with a friend so I’ll just stay and meet you around there.”

“Oh good. I don’t have to pretend I want to go to Jersey.”

“This again?”

She laughs. “I can choose this time. Do you know where you’re meeting your friend?

“Yeah. I have his address. Hang on, I’ll send it to you.” Seconds later, her phone buzzes and she briefly looks at the location on Google Maps.

“Oh. Battery Park. That’s close to where I am. You must really like this friend if you’re willing to travel that far. It’s a pretty long way from Newark.”

“Right? That’s what I told him. So, tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can figure out a place and I’ll let you know tomorrow morning the latest if that works? What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything you like.”

“Jack.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. How does ramen sound?”

“Perfect. I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll text you,”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Tomorrow comes, this time at a lowkey but busy ramen place where they’re sat side by side and their knees are touching. Jack’s hair is out this time, and the waves are falling across his forehead and she just loves the way it looks. He notices the two rings she’s wearing as one quickly catches a light in the restaurant. They continue on from the last time they talked but this time, swimming the surface of deeper conversations.

She talks about her constant doubts about her job and how she sometimes just wants to pick up and movs somewhere else and start new. He talks about how he knows he’s good at hockey and knows this is the only path for him, but how he recognizes that outsiders look and sometimes see a sell-out or someone who doesn’t work hard. But he’s learned to just put his head down and play and to do it well. That’s something she can also relate to.

She talks about how her relationship with her older brother is one that she’s found to be very grateful for, especially because they’re so far apart in age. A lot of who she is is based on his personality. He talks about being the middle child and being close in age to his brothers, and how competition was always just built into every activity they did. He’s realized, especially as he’s gotten older, how much he appreciates his brothers and having all three of them being in the same league, with Luke on the same team, and going through similar experiences but also completely different trajectories.

(Somewhere, they both take a few sake shots and Maia’s not quite drunk, but buzzing, her laughter more free and her face redder).

Even semi-intoxicated, she decides not to ask the questions she really wants to yet that focus around them and what they are, unclear of where they stand. They’re sitting so close to each other and she relishes in it, wanting more. When she runs a hand through her hair to push it back, she notices his eyes flickering at that action, which means…nothing. She has to break away eye contact sometimes because he’s just staring at her so intensely.

No wonder he has girls wanting him left and right, she thinks. She’s kind of no better.

Towards the end of the night (he paid again and she only let him after he said he would let her pay next time. Next time), they plan out vaguely when they’ll see each other next. He’s away for the next week or so, and she just shrugs. She gets it. It would be naive of her to think she can change it. “I’ll let you know the second I land,” he says, and she just nods. She then jokes that maybe their next date could be skating, and he rolls his eyes, though he takes it into consideration. When he asks if she’s serious, she snorts, “I mean, sure. But you’re not gonna have to teach me how, if that’s what you’re going for.” He laughs. Loudly.

When they part ways, he hugs her tightly and for a long time. She breathes him in subtly, her eyes fluttering shut when she feels him press a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Maybe that’s when she should’ve asked. Because that act was way too intimate to feel friendly. But she didn’t, and she watched him walk away, chuckling as he turned around to shoot her a parting wink.

She went to sleep that night, somehow, with so many thoughts circling around her mind)

*****

Maia has an idea of when he’s landing, so she’s not surprised when she gets a call on a Thursday night.

He seems a bit out of breath, and she asks him if everything’s okay. Everything’s fine, he says. He just landed back in Newark and is heading home. He cuts to the chase, and asks if she’s around the next night. She blinks, because she knows he has a game. He clarifies. Is she around after the game? (“Or for the game,” he adds quickly. “If you want to come, I can get you tickets.”) While she’s flattered, she knows that’s crossing a line at this point and she politely turns down his offer. But yeah, she says. I’m around after. What’s up? He asks if he can take her out on a date. And she knows her answer (it’s obviously yes) but she says only if she’s allowed to go to him in Jersey. He protests immediately, but she shuts him up (“Both of our dates have been way closer to where I am. It’s only fair, Maia.”)

It’s gonna be a late night date, since the game (assuming no overtime) won’t end until at least 10:00. He’s not sure what he has in store, but she’s okay with not knowing. The only thing he assures her of is that he’ll drive her back into the city afterwards. Traffic should be light, so she doesn’t fight him.

(That should’ve been another hint that this was something worth pursuing. She has a hard time letting go of control of plans, especially with people she hasn’t known for awhile.

She trusts him already)

When he hangs up, she thinks for a second. He had told her during their last date that he would let her know the second he landed.

And he did.

Huh.

*****

The next night, she’s nervous.

Dinner’s already been eaten. She caught the first period of his game, but had to leave to catch her trains to meet him. With encouraging words from Carrie paired with some hype up music, she’s on her way.

When she steps out of the station on this abnormally warm December night, she immediately sees him leaning against his car. His hair is damp from the shower he probably just took, and he’s sporting a peacoat over a sweater and blue jeans.

He perks up when he sees her and she practically skips over to him. She smiles and pulls him into a hug, and she feels him press a light kiss in her hair.

“Hey.” She says softly.

“Hi,” he mutters in her hair, pulling away to lean down and place a kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He opens the door for her as she slides in, and she’s thankful that she followed her instincts and dressed comfortably in her beloved Minnesota sweatshirt, stifling a yawn as she thanked him. She puts on her seatbelt and leans back, watching him climb in.

He turns to her, “Wanna aux?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, already fiddling around to connect her Apple carplay.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He chuckles, looking behind him to pull onto the road.

She shrugs. “What kind of music do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

She snorts. “You don’t mean that.” She scrolls through her playlists and debates on which one to do. “I saw that you guys lost. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies automatically and she catches his eye and gives him a look of doubt. He corrects himself. “Okay, it’s frustrating, but none of that right now. I wanna hear about you. How’s your week been? Did that thing with your boss get resolved?”

She blinks. Right. She had mentioned that briefly when he called her earlier in the week. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I don’t know. You gotta learn which battles to fight, you know? This one is one I don’t have to win.”

He nods with a soft hum, stopping at a red light. “Do you like milkshakes?”

She chuckles a bit at the change of topic. “I don’t mind them.”

“Wanna get some right now?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No,” he admits. “Because I want one.”

“That can’t be on the diet plan you athletes have going on.”

“Oh, it definitely isn’t. Worth it though.”

“Do they have oreo or cookies and cream?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” He grins, and she takes a couple seconds just to watch it. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Thanks for coming out to Jersey at 10 pm.”

She chuckles. His heart drops to his stomach. “I had nothing else to do on a Friday night.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay. I don’t believe that.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

She leans back into her seat. “I don’t have the energy to hang out with people every night. Respect to the people who do. That’s just never been me. I can sit for hours and not talk to anyone.”

“You’re an introvert, then.”

“Is that surprising?”

He takes a second to think about it. “Yes, one, because you always talk about your friends so I know you have a lot. And two, because we literally talked for four hours on our first date.”

She shrugs, looking straight ahead of her to get the courage to respond. “There’s very few people in my life who I can talk with for hours.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky, then.”

She looks back over to him, watching as he shoots her a quick smile before he focuses back on the road. “How’s your week been?”

“The usual. Practices and games and travelling in the west coast, so I’m a little jetlagged, which isn’t great.”

“I didn’t realize that you guys play games like, every other day. Which is dumb, because like, it makes sense, but that just sounds exhausting. What am I saying though? It’s literally your job.”

He laughs softly and she tries to ignore the warmth spreading across her skin. “It can be tiring, for sure. But yeah, I love it, you know? Wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Just then, they pull into this small, unassuming diner and roll right through the drive-thru. He orders a chocolate milkshake and she gets an oreo one, and before he can think about it, she forces her credit card in his hand. He laughs and relents, and they pull out and are back on the road quickly. She sips on her milkshake and smiles to herself, not even asking where he’s driving them to next.

(She thinks they could be anywhere and she’d still want to keep talking to him forever. He thinks that practically every worry in his life could fade away if he could look at her smile for the rest of his life)

He rolls up to one of his favorite views in Jersey of midtown Manhattan, finding an alcove and backing his car into it. Hamilton Park. They both get out and all she can do is stand there and admire the stunning view, milkshake in hand. She’s literally breathless. The last time she remembers feeling like this is when she saw the Pantheon for the first time nearing midnight with her brother when they were in Rome in 2022. She doesn’t notice him unlocking the trunk and setting up the backseat with blankets and pillows until he softly calls her name.

(When her eyes met his, the glow of Manhattan in her eyes, he swears to this day that his heart skipped a beat. He was hers already then)

They settle into the makeshift couch, not quite touching but really freaking close.

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly, just looking at the view.

He hums, his eyes flickering between the view he knows too well and the girl who makes him feel better about who he is simply for just being around. It sure is.

She lets herself admire the view silently for a minute or so more, before she can’t take it anymore. “Jack?” She asks, still looking out.

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

Wrong answer, if the unimpressed expression on her face is any indication. She nudges her knee with his. “Come on. You know exactly what I mean. What are we doing? What are we?”

He shrugs, trying to ignore the frogs in his stomach. He should’ve known she was gonna bring it up first. She’s too smart not to. “I-I like you. Wouldn’t have chased after you if I didn’t. You-you’re amazing, you know that? I don’t think you realize how much you can just stay on someone’s mind. I know this is only our third date, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I like who I am when I’m around you.”

She swallows, pausing to sip her milkshake and wiggling into the blankets. He thinks she’s adorable. “I haven’t liked someone in so long. I thought I forgot what it felt like. But then you asked me out and I see a text from you or hear you through my phone or see you on TV, and I’m like oh. I think I remember what it feels like now. It feels like this.”

He has to take a second because oh, maybe her dreams of becoming an author aren’t just words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows again. “But I, I can’t do casual. I never have. I really, really wish I could

sometimes. So if that’s what you want, I can’t do it.”

“What makes you think I want casual?”

She snorts, “Because you’re a hot and talented hockey player? You can’t blame me for making the assumption.”

“You think I’m hot?”

Maia smacks him in the stomach. Jack laughs. She takes a breath. It’s now or never. “I just, I know you have girls in your DMs and your comments and everywhere else that are prettier and maybe could give you more of what you’re looking for or something that’s not…me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She lets out a small noise and smiles slightly. “Thanks. But, I-I know that you have so many options. I won’t be hurt if I’m not the one you choose.”

He taps her knee so she’s paying attention and listening to his next words. “I-I’ve done casual before. I don’t think I can do that with you.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“Well, A, because you don’t want to, which leads to B, I don’t want to. Not with you.” It’s his turn to swallow now as he looks at the skyline. “I really, really like you, Maia.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“All in?”

“All in.”

“You completely sure?” She interlaces her hand in with his and raises his knuckles up to her lips. He’s utterly floored. But he’s nervous. And she can sense it.

“Yes. I just…it’s, I’m not trying to backtrack. I mean, you’ve already seen some of it. Like, during the season, it’s intense. Game every two or three days, practice pretty much everyday, stretches of roadies and being away. I feel like, not that I doubt you or us or anything, but that’s not, I won’t be around as much as I should be. How is that fair to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. I figured that from the first day. I get it. Well, as much as I can get it. I’m sure it’s gonna be tough. I know it will be.” She squeezes his hand, leaning on his shoulder. “If you’re willing to try, then so am I.”

“You’re too good for me.”

She scoffs, grinning as he places a kiss on her temple. She places her milkshake by her side, summoning up some courage. She adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing him, and he just watches her intensely. With her Minnesota crewneck, a blanket around her shoulders, hair falling just past her shoulders, and the soft smile on her face, his mind goes quiet. Peaceful.

She kisses him first. Innocently and softly, before pulling back to gauge his reaction.

He responds quickly, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips against hers again. They’re both smiling into the kiss and everything feels calm. He wraps a hand around her waist as she maneuvers her hands around his neck, playing with his hair. She’s so lost in him that she doesn’t really realize that she moves herself so that she hovers over his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He has his hands placed on her lower back.

He lets out a low groan, “Baby.”

Her brain short circuits, both at the nickname (she’s always flinched at it before, but she loves the way he says it) and the timbre of his voice, but she has enough sense to pull away. They’re both breathing heavily. “Sorry,” she breathes out, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. She closes her eyes. She needs a second.

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing her face back up to his and brushing his thumbs on her cheek. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I saw you.”

She chuckles, sliding off of him and settling into his side, staring out at the skyline again. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“I kinda knew if I kissed you before knowing what we were, it would be more heartbreaking if you rejected me.”

“If I rejected you?”

“Yes.”

“In what world would I have rejected you?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad it’s not this world.”

She keeps herself from rolling her eyes, and just leans up to kiss him on the cheek. Because, you know, she can do that now.

(That night, staring out at the stunning skyline of a city she has grown to love, with the warmth of the blankets over her legs and over her shoulder, a boy she was very quickly growing to care for deeply pressed by her side, telling her he feels the same way, she felt lifted. Free.

Unstoppable)

(When he drops her home, it’s 1:18 a.m. and she doesn’t want to get out of the car. With the way his hand has been attached to her thigh, it seems like he doesn’t want her to get out either. But he has an 11 am practice tomorrow and he just had a game. He’s exhausted.

He kisses her once, twice, a third time before letting her go. As soon as she steps through the lobby of her apartment building and out of view, his grin practically splits his face. He smiles all the way home)

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kivino · 1 year ago

Text

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

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moonstruckme · 9 months ago

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hi! What about a fic if one of the Mauraders or TASM peter with a reader who's insecure about her big boobs? Like ik everyone thinks it's ideal but honestly sometimes it really sucks when shirts don't fit right or everything looks slutty or u can't go braless or alternatively a fic about their gf overhearing someone say they r an ass man but she has a small butt?

Thank you for requesting!

cw: insecurity around breast size

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re looking in the mirror, and you want to feel good about yourself. Really, everything looks the way it should. Your hair looks better than it would on an average day, that new eyeshadow thing you tried actually turned out nicely, and your dress fits the way it’s supposed to.

Just, the way it’s supposed to fit doesn’t really seem right to you at the moment.

“Peter,” you call in the direction of the bathroom, “if I ask you about something, can you promise to be honest with me?”

You hear water splash in the shower, signaling your boyfriend is finally rinsing out his hair. In classic Peter fashion, he seems like he’s going to be late to his own banquet. Oscorp is having a formal event to recognize the achievements of their scientists this year. Peter’s done even more than most, and he’s expected to give a speech before the food comes out which you’ll be lucky to make at this rate. You were supposed to get ready together, but he’d spent the majority of the time flirting with you while you did your makeup in your pajamas.

“Duh, I’m always honest,” he calls back. The shower shuts off. “That’s why they call me your friendly, honest, neighborhood spider-man.” A pause. You wonder if he can sense the dry look you’re sending his way. “Fine, but I’m always honest with you. Shoot, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” You give yourself one final, disappointed look-over in the mirror before heading towards the bathroom door. “I’m serious, don’t sugarcoat anything, but do you think—”

The door swings open, and Peter’s right in front of you, beads of water still visible on his torso and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“—this is too slutty?” you finish, quieter, right as he blurts, “Oh my god.”

Peter blinks. His head does a tiny shake, as if trying to rid himself of a dizzy spell. “What?” he asks.

Probably not your best phrasing. “I just mean, is it too booby,” you try again. You have the urge to tuck your arms around your middle self-consciously, but you worry that would only make the boob predicament worse.

“Baby.” Peter’s still looking at you like you’re speaking another language. “What?”

You look down at your highly visible cleavage, then back up at him. “You know what I mean,” you say softly.

“Okay, speaking from a strictly straight male standpoint,” Peter says, unabashed as his eyes dip to where yours just where, “I can’t condone the idea that there is such a thing as too booby. But even if I was, like, a ninety-five-year-old conservative woman, I couldn’t—I would still think you look beautiful.”

Your heart balloons. It’s not a compliment you got much before you met Peter. Hot, sexy, sure, but not beautiful.

“God.” The word slips from your boyfriend’s mouth so softly it almost sounds like a prayer. His hands find your waist, skimming down the satiny material of your dress to rest on your hips. “You’re amazing. Is that the eyeshadow trick you were talking about?”

You nod, cheeks warming. “You watched me do it.”

“It looks different with the dress on,” he agrees. “Fuck. Not to be corny, but you’re seriously taking my breath away. I can’t breathe right now.”

A little laugh stutters out of you, and Peter smiles. He’s looking rather breathtaking himself, fresh-faced from the shower with a piece of damp hair still clinging to his forehead. You unstick it and comb it back in with the others already fluffed up after being toweled off. He smells like his shampoo.

“Can I kiss you,” he asks, “or will I mess up your makeup?”

“Be careful,” you warn, smiling as you lean in.

He is, but his hands give away his hunger, bunching in the fabric at the base of your spine to get you closer. He makes a low, needy sound in the back of his throat, and for half a second you wonder if it’s for your benefit but then you remember that he was right earlier. Peter is always honest with you.

You laugh when you pull away, going to get a bit of tissue paper to blot away the lipstick you’ve left on him. A glance in the bathroom mirror shows that yours is, thankfully, intact.

“Are you sure this dress will be appropriate?” you ask, less insecure now but still nervous as you wipe at Peter’s upper lip. “Regardless of how much you like it, it’s still a formal thing and I don’t want to be…indecent.” You cringe. There’s no word that sounds nice.

Your boyfriend’s brows furrow. His hands skim up your arms, and he looks like he’s about to reply when you fold the toilet paper and stick it between his lips. “Blot,” you murmur.

He does. “Sweetheart.” He squeezes your upper arms, a silent request for you to look up at his eyes. You find them soft and earnest. “There’s nothing inappropriate about what you’re wearing. It is a formal thing, and you’re wearing a formal dress. You look beautiful.” That word again. Your cheeks burn. Peter kisses one of them. “No one is going to have anything to say about how you look other than how beautiful you are,” he promises.

You let the sincerity of his words seep into you, pooling like a warm drink in your belly. The inside of your lip finds its way between your teeth. Now you’re feeling bashful for other reasons.

It’s obvious by Peter’s grin that he can tell. He gives your arms another squeeze before moving you out of the way and going to where his clothes are laid out on the bed.

“Actually, that’s pretty convenient for me.” He discards the towel on the floor, slipping on a pair of boxers and then starting to button up his dress shirt. “You’ve just taken a whole bunch of pressure off my speech. No way anyone’s gonna be looking at me while I’m up there now.”

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minzart · 7 months ago

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Blazing eyes

Maleficent x Reader(GN) x Hades . ROR-VKs & You

“professor-” he slams the door close, leaving you alone… you naturally louch yourself to the door and try to pry it open, sadly it won't budge “cursed old fucking man -OPEN! ABRACADABRA! PRESTO! BIBIDBOBIDIBO! COMONNNNNN BITCH-”

“poor thing has lost it” Hook whispers.

“we haven't tried bitch as a pass wold tho” Morgie added in “didn't work, but it would have been so funny if it did”

“OPEN SESSAME!”

“alright alright alright” Uliana gets up from her seat “calm down, we don't bite”

“much” Hades adds and seconds later Maleficent hits his head firmly.

Or... how you got recruited as a new VK and the drama that comes with being friends (and for some more) of the young villains

In a world of princesses, princes, knights, evil fairies and gods you were neither, perhaps one could say you were even less, a commoner, a plebeian with the most average sprinkle of magic yet to set foot in Merlin Academy again. Never a stand out and when your voice was heard it was almost as if the room could swallow it whole for how little it mattered in the grand scheme of things.

What would you be when you graduated? A tug? A squire? Perhaps if lucky an advisor or even a right hand confidant of a big name hero or villain. Maybe just a normal baker, who's to say, after all, the unremarkable have their own gift, destiny, profecies and duty wasn't yours to claim after all, so your life is yours and yours alone to mold, change, waste, thrive and live.

But oh that doesn't mean you can't impact lives, no, rather the opposite, you can be the last straw or the first domino that will never see the finish line but will be remembered as fondly and bitterly as the eyes that saw you last.

And our story starts not by your eyes, but by hers, a young fary sits bored out of her mind in a perfect, dreadful, evening at detention with the fools she calls… allies…. Yes, that felt… correct enough, and with the infant God she could only denominated as a passing interest at best, a boyfriend at worst.

Morgie, being the little snake that he is, can't keep still and out of the woods for long before he starts budging the magical reinforced windows, she won't blame him, after all she herself did the same thing some months ago and now the windows have a reflective spell to “keep students safe”, as if they didn't threw out weaklings out of those even before her… “sneeze incident”, as if she could even make mistakes, that was a purposeful fire breaking breath right into the window's direction and not because Uliana's cologne was too strong that day, absolutely preposterous of principal Merlin to spread that ridiculous rumor about her, she had to curse twice the students to shut their giggles that week all because of that pompous old man.

James had given up cheering for Morgie and now laid back, boots staining the desk shining his golden rook and by his pout being extremely disappointed in his eyeliner not being as sharp as it was 20 minutes ago.

“Uliana~” he called, a melodic tune echoing in the almost empty classroom “dear, scariest witch of the sea, seafoam of my dreams”

“call me that one more time and I'll give your other hand to tictoc as a gift asshole” the leader of this little band of mischief smirked, pointing her little switchblade at him, she sat at the teacher's desk, marking one more tally to their monthly visit and, before being interrupted, curiously checking to see if new marks were made by new potential allies “what do you want?”

“do you have that miraculous eyeliner in you again? I think I missed a spot” the young sea witch rolls her eyes in amusement and one single tentacle leaves her back, the black tube almost reaching Hook's good hand, then it doubled back and threw it in his bad hand's direction, the boy caugh it without much fuss and dangled it in her direction, wiggling his eyebrows in victory.

“much thanks beauty”

“your parents should have named you Narcissus”

“and you should try being a pitcher to this years baseball team”

“you would be too good for them tho” the young God spoke from behind the black fary, playfully passing the same blue flame around his fingers “I saw Jame's fumble a bit this time”

“I didn't fumble anything!”

“yes you did”

“did not”

“did too”

“did-”

The door of the class is slammed open by what Maleficent can smell is the dire's magic, his voice getting closer and closer, Uliana decides to move to the closest chair, not interested in prolonging the tedious lesson with an extra 15 minutes of more lecture.

“I'm again so thankful you could come dear” Merlin's voice echoed inside “it's so hard to find generous students like yourself, always ready to help the ones with the most difficulty”

All teens roll their eyes and look at each other's direction just to confirm that they weren't just hallucinating the most basic and fakest sweet talk to ever exist, and by all means they did experience each “baby's first manipulation” attempt, and they were not as fake sounding as his.

“you are too kind professor” the nervous little laugh gave away whoever they were wasn't as ingenious as half this school seemed to be ”I did say i wanted to try everything once at least in my years resolution papers, and I mean it”

“such admirable dedication to academics I sure hope you pass a little bit of that for this… study… group” the hesitation in Marlin's voice made Morgie snort and fall to the ground, wich made Hook tremble and poke his own eye, which prompted him to swing his hook in ager back, ready to curse the son of Morgana, but his hook went flying off its place hitting Hades’ foot, making the God scream in pain, losing control of the little flame that hit the teacher's desk making if catch fire so bright it flames so wild that a stray one reaches Uliana's pants.

It is in that moment that you and professor Merlin walk in the class, the VKs growling and cursing at each other in the middle of chaos. The professor calmly puts the fire out, as does Uliana, Hook grabs his hook back, Morgie scrambles to go back to his seat, Hades takes a deep breath, hair turning back to it's blue hue and Maleficent holds the biggest ugly laugh she can fell boiling from the deeps of her core.

Your eyes travel slowly through the most infamous trouble makers of this school, from Uliana's defiance, to Hook's flirtatious, Morgie's mischievous, Hades’ unimpressed and Maleficent's cold stare. Taking a deep breath and clenching your bag you turn 180 degrees and start marching out of class, professor Merlin was not so happy with your attitude since he decided to grab your shoulders firmly and smoothly turn you back around.

“today class, a very generous classmate offered to help me supervise you all” Merlin smiles “which is just so great because I'm need for a very important meeting and am already-”

And in that moment you made the biggest mistake you could have made that day, you defied the authority figure right in front of the punks wannabes of Merlin Academy “absolutely not” you dance around his grasp and just didn't bolt out right in that instance because the old man was blocking your path.

“now now” your name falls from his lips as if he's talking to a child “I know you have the good it takes to help those unfortunate individuals”

“I don't have shit!” you could feel all eyes turning to you, the class has your attention.

“language child!”

“I could teach math and potions and curses and counter curses to anyone, but being responsible for a whole class that will harass me to death if I don't let them out was not in our agreement sir“ you try to dance around the sorcerer again.

“watch your tone, those are very heavy accusations”

“yes we would never do something like that” Uliana puts more log to this blazing circus as Morgie tries to hide better the straw and paper balls he just finished doing in broad daylight for all to see.

Merlin cleans his throat, bringing attention back to him as he side eyes the girl “as I was saying, it will only be for some minutes! I'll be back as soon as possible” the headmaster starts to get out of the door still facing the class “I'm sure you can handle them”

“poor thing has lost it” Hook whispers.

“we haven't tried bitch as a pass wold tho” Morgie added in “didn't work, but it would have been so funny if it did”

“OPEN SESSAME!”

“alright alright alright” Uliana gets up from her seat “calm down, we don't bite”

“much” Hades adds and seconds later Maleficent hits his head firmly.

“we can be civil see” she shows her gang, all… sitting in various degrees of proper but sitting still nonetheless “now what's you name? I didn't catch it seeing some so…”

She looks you up and down, judging from you clothes to your hair to your posture, her month forms a thin line as she thinks in how to describe you ”comum, sticking it to that old man was kinda impressive”

You rest your head in the door, a defeated sigh leaves your lips with your name in it, Uliana tests it a few times and sits in the closest table “you don't happen to have famous parents do you?”

“take a guess” you mumble, choosing to sit down and accept your fate.

“that explains why I don't remember seeing you around here”

“we are in the same classes…”

“I skip those, anyways, so the headmaster is in a meeting? Do you know what class it’s happening in? ”

“why would I know?”

“You two just seemed so close y'know” You roll your eyes, a headache already forming inside your head.

“he got my name wrong but sure whatever makes my life easier, did any of you try breaking the windows?”

“Morgie dear was just about to start biting them” an offended “hey” can be heard in the background as the boy momentarily stops gossiping with his friend.

“do you know if it's a spell? A charm? A ward? We need to get going and I think you would be happy with us gonne too”

“it could be a potion for all that i know”

“you are quite useless aren't you?” her eyes lock with yours, daring you to fight back… you double down.

“you have no idea” you raise your chin and summon your biggest smile “a snail is more useful than I!”

You immediately let your facade down, head resting between your closed arms “just leave me be and continue doing whatever it is that you do”

The girl grins in amusement “aren't you spunky, color me impressed” she gets out of your table and lowers herself to your eye level “I see some potential, we could be friends, what do you say?”

“...” for a moment, the young sea witch thinks “hook, line, and sinker” but her expectations are shattered as you point behind her and says “your rescue has arrived”

Turning around she sees her little group of misfits, the ones that were still out there one stacked on top of the other, curse book in hand, they wave excitedly to her and signal for all to move out of the way.

Hades immediately gets up pulling Maleficent with him, and a blast breaks the glass “it wasn't supposed to shatter it!” The caster panics, making their little tower lose balance and fall, hopefully they weren't hurt too badly.

Uliana sighs annoyed, but moves to the window anyway “out we go then! Don't think I forgot about you, I'll be keeping a close eye, and if you change your mind, you can find us it's not that hard” she looks at you as her four tentacles graciously take her down and out of detention.

Hook winks at your direction and jumps out “pleasure meeting you sweet, sorry we couldn't talk longer schemes to make, pranks to pull you know the drill”

“bye!” Morgie waves at you as he also jumps out.

Hades moves to leave, a half wave at your direction as he waits for the horned fae take his hand, Maleficent looks at you up and down, he eyes lock with yours, they glow a neon green and you feel as there are eyes everywhere “see you around”

At least it's only you, the shattered window and deep feeling of dread creeping in your back.

#descendants rise of red #descendants 4 #uliana descendants #morgie le fay #descendants maleficent #descendants hades #descendants james hook #maleficent x reader #hades x reader #maleficent x reader x hades #gender neutral reader #self insert #x reader #descendants x reader #descendants ror #ror x reader #i said i would do it and here it is

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greg-montgomery · 1 year ago

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i saw your post about jealous!hotch, so I was wondering if you can write something where there isn't an established relationship between hotch and bau!reader (yet ;))), the reader is a huge fan of an actor/character (kind of like how we, hotch girls, fangirl over Aaron 🤭) and Hotch got jealous whenever he hears her talks about the actor/character and then the reader was wondering why he's acting unusual, (like he would mutter something to himself like how he's much better than the man the reader talks about but they don't hear it, or he's suddenly not in a mood, etc.) and the team knows why he's acting unusual (he's jealous) and they're entertained watching the both of them be oblivious, and hotch kind of slipped or something that revealed his feelings for the reader🤭 if you can't write it, then it's okay!! feel free to change anything however you want<33

hehe what if aaron was jealous of thomas gibson himself 🤭🤭🤭

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“I am definitely taller than him.”

“What was that, Hotch?” you asked, after hearing him mumble something under his breath.

“Nothing,” he said more clearly this time. “Go back to your very important conversation with Garcia. The meeting doesn’t start until ten, so you have plenty of time.”

“Thank you,” you answered with a smile, pretending you didn’t notice his sarcasm.

“So he’s tall and respectful? What else would a girl need?” Penelope swooned, picking up from where you two had left off.

“I’m telling you! Penny, I swear…Greg is my dream man.”

You had turned your spinning chair to the side so you could face Garcia, and missed the way Aaron rolled his eyes at your words.

“And they got married the day they met?” she asked, her hand on her chest.

“Yes! It’s so romantic. And don’t even get me started about all the physical touch. It’s definitely his love language.”

“Ugh…He sounds perfect.”

“He is.”

“So are you gonna show me how he looks like?”

“Right!” you exclaimed. “I have a whole album of pictures of him. Wait.”

You pulled out your phone and found a screenshot from the episode of “Dharma & Greg” you were watching the night before. “That’s my baby.”

Aaron should be feeling lucky you were still turned to the side and couldn’t see the way he was desperately trying to take a peek at your phone.

“Oh,” Penelope said. But it wasn’t the kind of ‘oh’ you were expecting.

“What?” you asked disappointed. “Don’t tell me he isn’t hot. He’s literally a doll.”

“No, I…” she said. She seemed startled. “He is…um…really good looking. But…Y/N…Do you not notice something in particular about him?”

“Like what?”

“Tall. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Cheekbones.”

“Yeah, like I said: my dream man,” you simply said, unable to understand where she was going with this.

“He’s not all that.”

That was Aaron.

“How would you know?” you were quick to ask him.

“I googled this Thomas Gibson guy who played Greg,” he said, acting casual. “He’s average at best.”

“He is not average,” you defended him.

“I can’t tell which one of you is more stupid,” Penelope said softly, mostly to herself.

“What?” you both replied at the same time.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I just remembered…I have to go make a phone call.”

Once you were left alone with your boss you crossed your arms against your chest and furrowed your brows. “Average…”

“He’s just some guy.”

“He’s not. He’s the most handsome man in the world,” you said.

“Sure.”

At his last word, you got up from your seat and walked so you could stand right in front of him with a smirk.

“What?”

“You sound almost jealous of him.”

“Why would I be jealous of him?”

“I don’t know, Hotch,” you replied, your smirk getting even wider. “Why would you?”

He stared at the picture of your celebrity crush he had previously googled. “He has nothing I should be jealous of. I mean my hair is better, and I’m pretty sure I’m taller.”

“I knew that was what you said earlier!”

“Shut up.”

You giggled and tilted your head looking at him. The way he said those two words almost reminded you of Greg.

“You kind of look like him.”

“I don’t see it,” he said, taking a glance at his phone again.

“I think I do.” You smiled softly.

Maybe your dream man was your grumpy, stubborn, and very very adorable boss after all.

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch 🪐#ask

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toournextadventure · 1 year ago

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our little secret pt.iv

Summary: Your sins catch up with you.

Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: swearing, heavy religion and religious trauma (Southern Christianity), heavy religious homophobia, slurs, misogyny, guns, threats of violence, talk of death Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (Masterlist) A/N: this has super heavy religious themes, if you're not good with that please don't read, do what's best for y'all 🫶

Lorraine was coming home.

Well, they were all coming home, but you were only truly excited to see Lorraine. It had been nearly three months since you had seen her last. There was little to no contact because they were moving around a lot, but you would get her letters. Simple little things to tell you where they were, what they were doing, how much bigger they were getting in the industry.

Each letter felt more precious than the last. She never said anything explicit - though you couldn’t say the same for the rare letter from Max or Bobby-Lynn - but the message never changed. She missed you. Filming wasn’t the same when she knew she couldn’t go to you immediately after. Sometimes, if you were lucky, she would even complain about RJ.

The letters stayed hidden in a lockbox in Beau’s truck. You had wanted to keep them with you so they were easier to get a hold of, but both he and Huck had reminded you of the dangers of such a thing. What if someone found them? It would put both you and Lorraine in danger.

It wasn’t something that should have been a surprise to you, yet it partially was. You had gotten comfortable with the small group you surrounded yourself with. All but one or two knew of your little secret, and every single one of them was in support. Or at the very least, they were accepting. When you were with them, you almost forgot you weren’t supposed to be with Lorraine; you were supposed to be in your good, Christian, church-ordained relationship with Beau.

Yet, it was easy enough to keep your secret when Lorraine was away so often. You were so very proud of her and all she was achieving. Each time you saw her, you made sure to remind her of such. A kiss for each time you had felt proud of her while she was away, just to ensure she felt proud of herself. It didn’t matter what she did, all that mattered was she was working hard and moving through life successfully.

Beau and Huck had just gotten back from their own trip as well. They were scheduled to get back a few days after Lorraine, but out of some strange sense of responsibility, they had come back early. You wouldn’t complain. After all, you may not have been romantically interested in either of them, but you still loved them. They were family. They were your family. When they were around, life felt less chaotic. You could breathe and relax and feel however you wanted to feel because you knew, no matter what, that they loved you.

Things felt… good. As good as they had in a long while. You often spent your evenings with Roy. After talking with Jackson a few times, you had some idea on how to talk with your brother. He had been hesitant at first, seemingly not even able to comprehend his own thoughts. But slowly, day by day, you managed to get him to talk.

In the dead of night when you should have been asleep in your room, you sat across from Roy in the barn and listened to his rambling stories. I was an electrician, he had said, a pole jockey. You didn’t ask what that meant. Average life of a pole jockey is 7 seconds. For the first time since coming home, he showed you his overabundance of scars.

It was no wonder he felt trapped within his own mind.

“How’s it goin’, Roy?” Beau asked as he walked into the barn with Huck right on his heels. “Brought you some barbecue.”

Roy grumbled an acknowledgement before gingerly taking the Tupperware box from Beau’s outstretched hand. He always seemed to go fairly nonverbal when someone else was around. A small part of you felt proud that he trusted you enough to talk with you. It didn’t outweigh the feeling of knowing he would probably never get better.

“You goin’ to church with us on Sunday?” Huck asked gently.

He took a different approach to interacting with Roy than Beau did. While Beau very much kept his “big boy britches” on (as he had so much fun saying), Huck was more outwardly compassionate. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, or they thought Roy incapable, they were just raised differently. At least it was better than how you were both raised.

At least they showed they cared.

“Our sweet girl is preachin’,” Beau continued.

Roy looked at you and raised an eyebrow comically high. If you hadn’t just been talking about people dying and his nightmares, you would have teased him for it. Maybe you should have, just to invoke a sense of normalcy in it all. You opted to keep your mouth shut.

“It’s just kids’ church,” you said with a shrug. “Nothin’ important.”

“You are shapin’ the young minds of America’s future voters,” Beau said with a finger pointed in your direction. “That’s mighty important.”

You laughed and kicked out at him, managing to barely catch his heel. “You hear that from the television set?”

“Yes ma’am, I did,” he said with that cheesy smile that made all the women in town swoon. “You’re doin’ the Lord’s work.”

“You still don’t have to go,” you said to Roy.

He looked at you with a small smile before looking back down at the food in his hands. Yeah, you knew that would be the answer. So did Beau, but he still tried, bless his heart. You looked at him as he continued talking with Huck and felt something tighten in your chest.

You wished you loved him the way you were supposed to. If you could just feel those butterflies whenever he held your hand, or kissed your cheek, or wrapped his arms around you, everything would be better. You could still love Lorraine, and you could still love Huck, but the guilt wouldn’t be sticking to your very bones, weighing you down until you could feel the very fires of hell licking at your skin.

Maybe you could learn. Perhaps you could learn to feel for him the way you were supposed to. Lorraine felt for RJ - or could at least pretend convincingly - and no one was the wiser. If you could pretend, or learn, then maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. You could get away with loving Lorraine if you could convince everyone that you felt for Beau the way you were supposed to.

While he talked with Huck and Roy, you sat back and really looked at him. He was handsome, you didn’t have to fancy him romantically to see it. Just near every girl in town thought you were lucky as could be; you couldn’t entirely disagree. His laugh, his smile, his kindness, he was everything a girl could want.

And you felt nothing.

It weighed heavy on your soul as the days kept passing you by. Each day brought you closer to seeing Lorraine again, which meant you distanced yourself from Beau. You desperately hoped he understood; you loved him dearly, and there was nothing you wouldn’t do for him. But you just couldn’t love him the way you knew you should.

You sighed and put your thoughts aside when a truck pulled up to the barn. It wasn’t one you had seen before, at least not one you could remember. But it pulled up beside Beau’s truck as if they had done it a million times before. Not even Jimmy pulled up so well, and he lived there.

“You invite somebody?” You asked whoever was listening.

“You say that like we got friends,” Huck said with a chuckle and a swig from his beer bottle. He didn’t even look.

“Then somebody invited themself,” you said.

The lights of the truck were still on, seeming brighter as the sun continued to dip beneath the horizon. It would have silhouetted the still-budding cotton field if not for the blinding lights. Not many people made it a habit of coming out to the barn; they went to the house with daddy and not much else. There really wasn’t much sense in coming out this way.

Roy’s knee pressed against your thigh before you heard something scrape across the concrete floor. Hesitantly, you stopped looking at the truck and turned to look at him. His eyes were glued to the truck, and his hand was wrapped carefully around the handle of a pistol. A pistol that you hadn’t known he still had access to.

“I got it,” you said softly as you reached out to place your hand on top of his. He stiffened beneath you, but nodded once and let go of the gun.

You would need to figure out what to do about that another day.

The driver’s side door opened without a creak - something unusual in your bunch - and someone stepped out. You stood up and took a few steps toward the truck in an attempt to see who it was. With the truck’s lights still on, you couldn’t tell. You couldn’t even properly see their silhouette. When the lights turned off, you were stuck blinking erratically; the beam of light wouldn’t fade quickly enough.

“You lost?” You called out. The words carried across the now-silent driveway. “Town’s the other way.”

“I’m where I wanna be.”

Every atom of your being sparked at the voice. If you had been thinking logically, you would have remembered Roy was sitting on a box behind you. There were witnesses to your actions. But you weren’t thinking logically. You could never think logically if she was around.

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation before you practically sprinted toward the truck. Your arms knew where to go; they secured themselves around Lorraine’s shoulders as if that was where they belonged. In return, her arms wrapped around your waist, and her breath hit your neck, and her giggles reached your ears, and you were home.

She was your home.

“Got back a few nights early,” she said. Her arms squeezed tighter around your waist. “Thought I’d come surprise you.”

“It’s a good surprise,” you said softly.

You would have been content to stand there for the rest of eternity. With her head resting between your collar and jaw and her arms holding you like a lifeline, you didn’t have a single complaint. Why would you even want to leave? She was your home. She was what made your heart beat so fast you started to question if it would even hold up to the abuse.

“Look who’s back.” Beau’s voice came from behind you like the mighty voice of God himself; calling you out for the very sin of feeling love.

Lorraine pulled away to give everyone a hug, and you watched her do so. No one cared about your… affections for Lorraine; if Roy noticed, he certainly didn’t say anything. He even reached out to squeeze her hand, which was much more than he did for most.

Did he know? When Lorraine pulled up a box right beside yours and let her thigh rest only a hair’s breadth away from yours, did he see? It hadn’t ever occurred to you that Roy might know more than he let on. He was traumatised, not blind. How much did he see that you weren’t aware of?

Would he hate you? Had daddy gotten to him before you had even been born, teaching him that your very existence was a blight on the earth? Your stomach twisted into knots at the possibility. Jimmy was younger, he was more open minded, but Roy? The very thought of him condemning you to hell even after everything he had seen made your chest squeeze and tighten.

“You get yourself a new truck?” Huck asked as he held out a newly opened beer for Lorraine to take. “Looks mighty clean.”

“It’s daddy’s,” she said as she grabbed the bottle by the neck with her good hand.

“What happened to the truck I was fixin’ up?” You asked.

“He gave up on it,” she said with a shrug. “Said she was done for.”

“She was not done for,” you grumbled.

The toe of Lorraine’s shoe pushed gently against your heel; a teasing gesture she had adopted when other people were around. Just something small to let you know she acknowledged what you were saying. A habit you almost wished didn’t exist. The very existence of it meant you both were well aware of the ramifications of any sort of potentially scandalous words or activities. It was humiliating.

Your thoughts wouldn’t stop when everyone started talking and catching up. Lorraine was being particularly open. Nearly every time she came back from a trip, she stayed distant for a few days. The entire town knew you were all best friends, but you both tried to keep nothing but professional. It was fake. It was painful.

What about this break made her throw away that distance? Your chest warmed at the possibility that something had happened with RJ; perhaps everything wasn’t so awful. It wasn’t likely, but you let yourself relish in the feeling even if just for a moment. God could spare you a single moment of peace.

“We all gettin’ together Friday night?” Beau asked. “The usual?”

“Sounds good to me,” Lorraine said. She turned to look at you with a sparkle in her eye. “Think you can handle it?”

Roy’s knee pressed against your thigh at the same time Lorraine’s thigh did the same. Something about the potential judgment from your brother and the warmth from the woman you were forced to love in secret pulled at your insides. Tugging them in different directions, stretching you thin until you wanted to fade away into oblivion.

A moment of peace.

“I’m your huckleberry,” you said with a shrug.

Lorraine’s smile eased the tension in your chest. For the moment.

—---

The worn-down barn had been rearranged since the last time you had visited. The bar took over the better half of the left wall, and the makeshift stage had been reinforced at the back. Your usual table, which was originally found near the front of the barn, was now located closer to the back end of the bar; you could see directly out to the pitch black fields.

That was where your crew found themselves that Friday night; sitting at the table with more than a few empty drinks scattered around. It wasn’t like the Mexican restaurant down the road. There weren’t waitresses and people working there to clean. It was your responsibility to take your empty glasses back so they could be cleaned and reused. And on that night, it was your turn to be the waitress.

“Hey sugar,” Beau called to you when you were grabbing the empty cups to take back. “Get us another round?”

“You’re gonna have me lookin’ like an alcoholic,” you said with a pointed look.

You ignored Lorraine’s angelic giggle.

You also didn’t say no.

“What can I get for ya, Preacher?” Stevie - Stephen on Sundays - asked. “Your boys are throwin’ ‘em back.”

“So’s Rainey,” you said with a slight shake of your head. It didn’t erase your smile. “How’s about somethin’ watered down.”

“You truly are doin’ the Lord’s work,” he said with a smirk that most girls around town fell for. “A small bit of whiskey and some sweet iced tea.”

You mouthed a silent thank you as he got to work on the drinks and you turned to look back out at the scene. It was no surprise to see Beau and Lorraine already up and dancing. They couldn’t get you to dance to save your life, but you knew how much Lorraine loved it. She could have fun and laugh and smile without a care in the world. Did it help that she only danced when she was drunk? Yes, but that didn’t really matter.

The sight of her smiling has that vice grip closing around your heart again. It was cold and made you feel like you were drowning on dry land. Something about it didn’t sit right with you. Love was supposed to be something warm, something you could crawl back home to. It wasn’t supposed to hurt so bad, was it? Surely there was more to love than the hurt that you couldn’t even tell anyone about.

God was looking down on you. You could feel it. He was looking down at you, waiting to smite you where you stood. If he could hear your thoughts, could feel the way your body reacted to just hearing Lorraine’s voice, he would command Satan himself to drag you down to hell. You would feel the fiery pits of hell before you could ever show anyone how much you loved her.

But a part of you didn’t care. You would face whatever was thrown at you just to see her smile again. To feel her fingers brush against your hand when you passed her a bible at church because she had forgotten one again. You would have stood in front of God himself and rejected the heavenly gates if it meant you could hear her voice each morning you awoke beside her.

Blasphemy.

You knew it was.

You’re condemning your God for something that will never come to fruition.

You knew that too.

“Here ya go,” Stevie said, pulling you out of your downward spiral into a controlled madness. “Should help ‘em sober up a bit.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said with another polite smile as you grabbed the glasses he held out to you.

Lorraine and Beau were still dancing when you placed the drinks on the table and drug yourself into your seat. It was one of those tall seats that you almost had to climb into if you were a little shorter. Beau always teased you for it, but you at least got to tease Lorraine in return. She was shorter than you, after all.

“Please tell me these don’t have alcohol in ‘em,” Huck said even as he pulled the glass closer to him. “I can’t keep up with those two.”

“Little bit of whiskey,” you said, “mostly iced tea.”

He nodded once. “I can work with that.”

“Think they’ll dance all night?” You asked, turning your head to look at your boyfriend and the love of your life. That ball in your throat reappeared. You pretended not to notice it.

“They’re already stumblin’,” he said with a shake of his head. “I reckon they’ll come back in a bit.”

You nodded absentmindedly and continued to watch the pair. This very scene was a repeat of when she had gotten back a few months ago. The scenes played out in your head perfectly as you imagined the sound of Lorraine’s laughter to go with her dancing. It didn’t cover the sounds of her moans or the feel of her on top of you, but you were allowed an indecent thought every now and then.

If you were going to hell, you may as well enjoy the moment.

God, your mind was a mess. Maybe you needed to get away from town for a few days.

Lorraine’s voice reached you before she did. If you had been blinded, you would have been able to pick her voice out within a moment. Hers was the voice that guided you through your days, instilling a confidence and comfort that nothing else truly could. It rivaled God himself, and you understood how the prophets could be so comforted when listening to Him.

“You didn’t get yourself a drink,” Lorraine commented when she sat down beside you with the same grace as a newborn lamb.

“I’ll just share yours,” you said.

Her toothy smile sent a jolt to your very core.

“You’re dancin’ with me next, darlin’,” Beau said. He attempted to point at you, but just ended up making a mess and spilling half his drink.

“Ask me again when you’re sober, cowboy,” you teased.

“You goin’ to church with us on Sunday, Rainey?” Huck asked.

“Don’t talk about church,” Beau whined. “We’re tryin’ to have some fun.”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” she answered anyway. “So will the rest of the crew.”

That was new information.

“They’re here?” You asked.

“They said they missed y’all,” she said with a smile that was far more sober, almost even bashful.

“You sure they won’t burst into flames when they step foot inside?” Beau asked. You did your best not to laugh when Huck slapped his arm. Lorraine laughed aloud anyway.

You all talked about everything. You talked about nothing. You talked about plans that meant nothing and everything all at the same time. A vacation, perhaps out west, to see the ocean. Perhaps another one to Tennessee, where Huck knew a family that made moonshine in their shed. Or up to those big ole cities like New York, where rumour had it you could get yourself some crab that you didn’t catch out on the Gulf.

Lorraine’s thigh was flush against yours. It was just warm enough outside to warrant shorts, and even though you were wearing your sundress, you could feel her bare skin against yours. The very thought was indecent to its core. There were so many people around that had no idea of the indiscrete touch, yet it was enough to shake you to your very soul.

“I wanna watch you dance,” Lorraine whispered in your ear. It’s possible it wasn’t a whisper at all, but with the band and talking all around, no one else would have heard.

“I didn’t think you liked watchin’,” you said with a straight face that completely contradicted your teasing thoughts.

“I like watching’ if it’s you,” she said with a mirrored expression.

Damn her and those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

“Come on, lover boy,” you called out to Beau even as Lorraine brushed her knuckles against your thigh underneath the table. “You get one dance.”

“I’ll take it,” he said quickly.

He downed what little was left in his glass before hopping down from the stool. Your feet had barely touched the dirt floor when Beau grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. He was far past tipsy, though you wouldn’t quite say he was drunk. He was, however, well on his way.

“Just a nice lil two-step,” he warned you.

“Don’t drop me,” you warned.

He smiled the dopey, crooked smile that Huck loved so much. “Darlin’, I wouldn’t dare.”

As much as you hated dancing, it wasn’t half bad with Beau. He was one of the best in town, there was no denying the fact. There was something about his two-step that made it different, a little more special. He could have led the blind with how confident he was. Each step, each twist, each dip, you just simply had to follow. Not once would he ever leave you to falter.

You gave him more than one dance; after all, how could you stop when you had seen the look on Lorraine’s face as she watched? What would it feel like to dance with her, you wondered. Would she prefer to lead, or follow? How would her hand feel resting on your hip for something as simple as a dance? Would it send the same jolt of passion through you as everything else she did?

Once the music started to die down, you could feel the blisters starting to form on your heels. You couldn’t recall the last time you had danced in boots, and your feet were reminding you of such a thing. With a small grimace, you realised you would have to take care of them once you got home. The last thing you wanted were untreated blisters.

“I’m done,” you told Beau. You weren’t looking at his face; you were too focused on your feet. “I think I’m gonna regret this come mornin’.”

His grip on your waist tightened. “How’s about one more?”

“I ain’t losin’ my feet for a dance,” you said with a light laugh. You went to turn towards the table, but he pulled you back.

“Just one more,” he insisted. “Then I’ll let you escape.”

You tried to pull away again. “I reckon I really just need to sit dow-”

-Beau’s lips were pressed against yours before you had time to acknowledge the fact. He was pulling you tight, and your hands pushed lightly against his chest. His lips were chapped; they were nowhere near as soft as Lorraine’s. That was the only thing you could think about as the kiss seemed to drag on.

Until it clicked that you were kissing Beau.

No, he was kissing you.

You finally managed to push him just far enough away for you to look at him. He was looking down at you with startlingly sober eyes. That wasn’t like him at all. In all your years of knowing him, he had never sobered up so quickly in his life. He wasn’t a lightweight, but once he was gone? He was gone.

“What the hell was that for?” You asked softly enough for no one around you to hear.

He didn’t answer.

“Beau,” you insisted.

His eyes flickered above your head before meeting yours once again. What was he looking at? You shouldn’t look. The internal voice that so often resembled your guilt sounded more desperate. Desperate like the look on Beau’s face. It was right, you shouldn’t look.

You turned around anyway.

You didn’t immediately see anything out of sorts. Stevie was starting to pack up at the bar, indicative of either shift change or the barn being out of alcohol for the night. At the table, Huck was facing the bar and throwing back a shot that you didn’t recall him getting. Hadn’t he said he was done drinking? He wasn’t really one to go back once he was done.

Until you locked eyes with Lorraine. Who was standing right outside the barn in front of a kneeling RJ. Who’s left hand was clasped between both of his. Who looked painfully sober while he slid a ring onto her finger. Who looked at you with the same look you got from Jimmy and Huck and Roy when she was with RJ.

You weren’t supposed to look.

Each beat of your heart hurt.

“I think I’m done for tonight,” you said around the lump in your throat.

Beau’s arms held you tighter to his chest. “I’ll take you home.” His heartbeats hurt too.

“No thank you,” you said before finally turning back around to face him. You tried not to think too much about the look on his face. “Stay here with Huck and celebrate.”

“Baby-”

“-It’s alright,” you interrupted with a smile that convinced no one. “Stevie’s goin’ my way anyway.”

Every inch of your body was both numb and engulfed in pain all at once. You stood on your toes - ignoring the sting of raw blisters on your heel - and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. He had a bit of stubble; it was scratchy against your lips and made a nice momentary distraction. It wasn’t enough.

He only tried to hold you close for just a moment more. It was nothing more than a half-hearted attempt, and the instant you pulled away, he let you. With each step, you focused on your heels. On walking carefully so the rough leather of your boots wouldn’t tear them to shreds. A practiced walk that any true Southerner had mastered by the time they were old enough to dress themselves.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you approached the table. It was itchy and you wanted to scratch it until you ceased to exist. But you didn’t, you kept your hands clasped politely in front of you until you grabbed your hat off the table.

“I’m headin’ on home,” you said to whoever was sitting at the table.

You knew who was at the table.

“You okay-”

“-Just feelin’ a bit sick ‘s all,” you interrupted Huck with a dismissive wave and a fake smile. No one was convinced. “Guess I can’t hold my liquor.”

“Need us to drive you home?” RJ asked. His voice alone set your nerves alight and a new pain radiating across your skin.

“I’ve got a ride,” you said. The next word forced its way out of your mouth. “Congratulations.”

She was looking at you, and you knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. After all, why would you want to see the confirmation on her face? Did she not know what that would do to you? Your heart was barely getting by as it was, you didn’t need to add her pity to the mix.

You patted Huck on the shoulder before turning away, placing your hat back on your head in the process. It still smelled like Lorraine from when she had worn it earlier in the night. The act had made your fingers tingle with hidden excitement. No one had guessed the hidden meaning behind it; it was lovely.

Now it didn’t matter.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Stevie asked. Oh. You were at the bar. “You’re lookin’ a little green.”

“Just feelin’ a bit tired,” you said. “You headin’ my way?”

He tipped his hat. “Sure am.” A shit-eating grin took over his face. “Want a shot and smoke for the road?”

You should’ve said no. Stevie was someone you trusted greatly, and it was clear he wasn’t planning on taking the shot with you. Well, it wasn’t clear, but he only set one shot glass on the bar, so you assumed as much. But it wasn’t about his potential drinking and driving, it was the way it would look. It wasn’t proper for you to be leaving the bar with a man who wasn’t your boyfriend.

Your hands shook. Then again, it wasn’t quite proper for RJ to show up on your night out and propose to the woman you loved, either.

“I’d love one,” you told Stevie with a smile.

“Atta girl,” he said as he poured the whiskey into the glass. Bottom shelf; more than suitable for the job. “The smokes are in the truck.”

The hair on your arms stood up again. You tried not to think about it as you threw the shot back. The sting of alcohol hit your stomach like a semi hitting a brick wall. Nothing was appealing about it, and yet you weren’t disappointed. The sting was better than the pressure getting heavier and heavier on your chest.

“Alright, you ready?” Stevie asked when you slid the glass back toward him.

“Yessir,” you said with a smile that you hoped was more convincing than the last few.

It seemed it was.

The whole group was staring at you, you could feel it. Looking at you in pity, like a stray dog no one wanted. Everyone would feed it, would love it, would treat it well until the moment it came time to go inside. Then it would be left on the streets to fend for itself. With any luck, it would survive until the next encounter, but no one would take the risk of bringing it inside.

“Here you go,” Stevie mumbled as he held the cigarette pack out to you. It was so worn you couldn’t even tell the brand. You didn’t care.

He held the lighter up, and you leaned forward to get the spark. When you inhaled, the scalding ash burned every inch of your throat. It coated your lungs and took the pressure off your chest, if only to relocate it. The truck started driving off before you could exhale that first cloud of smoke. That was okay. You quickly inhaled again.

The burn showed you what hell felt like.

—---

The sun had risen long ago, and you were still in bed. The dusty yellow curtains were drawn, allowing only the thinnest sliver of light to penetrate your room. Whenever you dared to face the world for a few seconds, you could see the dust motes floating in the air, almost like spring snowflakes.

Momma had talked to Mrs. Day on the phone that morning. You hadn’t been present, but you could hear her through the walls. Her excitement at the news made you sick. You simply held your head out of your window and let yourself be sick before crawling back into bed. The blankets did nothing to block out the world, but you could at least pretend to hide away for a few hours.

You tried not to let yourself think about Lorraine; no easy feat considering she held your heart and soul in the palm of her hand. No, if you thought about it for too long, you felt you might turn into Roy. Stuck in your own head, unable to go about the intricacies of life without the trauma constantly looming over your head. You were more than content to lay in your bed and just rot away.

Hell could go ahead and take you. Surely it was no worse than what you were already experiencing.

“Come on, lazy bones,” momma said as she finally made the bold move to open your bedroom door. “Gramma’s here to help with the garden.”

She didn’t wait for you, but you knew the expectation. When momma asked you to do something, you usually had about 15 minutes before she started to pitch a fit. If you wanted to avoid a guilt trip, you would at least be up and in the process of heading outside by the time she started to get irritable.

You made sure to take up every minute you had. The slightly windy weather was perfect for a pair of jeans, so you made sure to take your time picking them out. The worn pair of garden boots sat in the corner; your heels stung just looking at them. It wouldn’t hurt to work barefoot for the day. After all, God brought you into the world without boots, you could experience another day without boots.

Momma and Gramma were already kneeling in the garden by the time you finally managed to make your appearance. Your hat hung low on your brow to block out the high afternoon sun. It was already hot on your arms, but you could work with it. A bit of sun wouldn’t kill you.

No one said a word as you grabbed the trowel and kneeled next to a still forming row of… well, you weren't sure what it would be this year. Last year it had been carrots, but they hadn’t lasted long. Perhaps this year you would make a bold suggestion of black eyed peas again. You knew you could get it right if you had another chance.

“What’s got you so down today, honey?” Gramma asked after what felt like far too long in the sun.

It had only been about five minutes.

“Does it have to do with Rainey gettin’ engaged?” Momma asked. The question made you sick to your stomach again.

“Yeah, kinda,” you said with a shrug even as you refused to look up at either of them.

“Oh honey,” Gramma said softly, “don’t be upset.” You couldn’t help it. “Beau will propose before you know it.”

Oh. Right.

You didn’t want Beau to propose. You couldn’t imagine anything worse than putting Huck through what you were feeling at that moment. Knowing that his heart would break every time he looked at you, no matter how happy he would be for you. He would have to sit on the sidelines, pretending to be joyous about watching his lover marry someone else.

Would he question God the way you did? Because you couldn’t comprehend why you were getting punished for the very fate of falling for someone you shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like you had planned on falling in love with Lorraine; did He really think you would do this on purpose? After seeing how painful life could be, why would you willingly choose such a life? To not feel a single thing for the man you were “supposed” to be with.

Surely it couldn’t have only been you. Surely you weren’t the only one who didn’t feel a certain way for Beau. Momma felt things for daddy, didn’t she? She had to, there was no other explanation. People didn’t just marry someone they didn’t love, did they?

Did they?

“What does love feel like?” You asked aloud to neither one of them in particular.

“What do you mean?” Momma asked.

You set the trowel down and leaned back on your heels. It stung. “When you look at Daddy, do you ever get, I don’t know, butterflies or somethin’?”

You finally looked up and saw both Momma and Gramma look away in thought. You needed them to confirm it. Needed them to tell you that yes, they felt something for Daddy and Pappy. They felt butterflies, and their palms got sweaty, and they wanted to do everything for them because they loved them. They needed to say it.

“Don’t think I ever have,” Momma finally said.

“Never?” You asked indignantly.

“Not that I recall,” she confirmed.

“How about you, Gramma?” You asked.

She needed to answer differently.

“Not for your Pappy,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I’ve felt somethin’ for someone else before.”

“Mom,” Momma scolded.

“Oh please,” Gramma said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “we’re all grown now.” She turned to look at you. “A man I grew up with.” You kept your eyes locked with hers. “Every time we were together, I’d get this giddy feelin’ in my chest.”

“Did you love him?” You asked.

“I believe I did,” she said with a nod. “He was certainly the one I wanted to spend my forever with.”

The pressure in your chest returned. “Why didn’t you?”

“He wasn’t the one I needed to love,” she said with a shrug before going back to digging up a few weeds.

“How d’you know?” You asked. The sweat made it harder to hold the trowel in your hand.

“God told me,” Gramma said as if it was the most logical answer in the world. “I was s’posed to love him, but I needed to love your Pappy.”

The pressure in your chest turned sharp.

“And you?” You asked Momma. “God told you to love Daddy?”

She nodded instantly. “He certainly did, and I thank Him every day for it.”

“But you don’t feel nothin’ special for him?” You asked. You wanted her to deny it.

“I feel what I’m s’posed to feel,” she confirmed.

You looked back down at the dirt. The tiny little splinters of the trowel handle dug into your fingers as you gripped it tighter. If you looked close enough, you could see a worm or two digging through the rich soil. Would it be easier to be that worm? To not have to worry about who to love, or if God would punish you for desiring someone else?

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Momma said, and you felt her hand rest on your shoulder. “Beau seems to be both the one you’re s’posed to love, and the one you need to love.” You felt sick. “You’re mighty lucky for it to turn out that way.”

“Yeah,” you said with a small smile before digging into the soil again.

Even though Momma and Gramma got back to work, you dug mindlessly with your bare hands, the trowel all but forgotten. Perhaps you had given your Momma too much credit. After all of this, she had ended up with someone that she didn’t love. Gramma had missed out on someone she loved because it wasn’t proper. Three generations of women who were stuck.

Was it a punishment? Surely God wouldn’t punish three generations of women for having feelings for someone. Someone that wasn’t ordained as the “right one” for them. No one could be quite that cruel, could they? What happened to love being something pure, a true gift that was to be held dearly?

Maybe your Momma had fallen victim to the same sin as you. Destined to love someone you weren’t meant to be with. The thought made you sick to your stomach. You were your mother’s daughter. And you were all suffering for the sin of love.

—--

Somehow, some way, you had managed to avoid any sort of small talk with people before church had started. You had stood at the doors to tell everyone good morning, giving Beau and Huck quick hugs before ushering them in. Daddy was already in the chapel talking with everyone, and you were more than happy to practically push the Days in without sparing them a second glance.

You ignored the coiling in your stomach when Lorraine gave you that pity-filled smile.

“You clean up nice.”

For the first time in two days, you allowed yourself to smile for a moment. Maxine was the first to give you a hug, then Bobby-Lynne, followed up by Jackson and Wayne. Truth be told, you had missed them too. There was something comforting about knowing that they accepted you, all of you, and wouldn’t shame you for a single thing.

Except for being a preacher. They still teased you for that one.

“And Beau was convinced you’d catch fire when you stepped in,” you said with a small smile.

“Not yet,” Bobby-Lynne said in her most confident tone. It was a good look for her.

“Everyone’s already inside,” you said with a gesture of your head, “go sit where you’d like.”

“We’ll behave,” Wayne said as he tipped his hat at you.

“Please do,” you called out to their backs.

Only a few more people were left before church started and you could finally close the doors. The kid’s church was in the small connected building on the side of the church. It wasn’t anything fancy, but the whole town had pitched in one year to build it. Something about having their own building made the kids more excited to go to church than anything else. And quite frankly, no one cared what the children enjoyed about it as long as they were excited to go.

“Alright y’all, let’s get started,” you said as you closed the doors behind you.

Daddy had made it clear you would never be the head preacher at church; that right was reserved for when Jimmy got back from seminary. You had tried not to act hurt when he had broken the news to you. The original plan had been for you to go to seminary because Jimmy wanted to go to an actual college. But it seemed none of you would get what you want, and you were all having to live with the cards you were being dealt.

Leading kids’ church was something you enjoyed, so you wouldn’t complain too much. After all, kids were far more open to learning than adults were. They wanted to hear whatever they wanted to hear and nothing else. You couldn’t count the number of times you had preached to the adults and they had come up to you afterwards to debate the meaning of a scripture. The joke was on them, though; you had taken enough seminary to know some of the original translations, not just the watered down version they preferred.

It was a wonderful lesson for the day; love thy neighbour. Something most people seemed to have trouble with at one point or another. Hell, even you had issues with it. There was more than once you had wished trouble up on a neighbour. Particularly when they attempted to belittle you when you were trying to live your day-to-day life. You wouldn’t take it back, but you accepted it had been a fault of yours.

“Alright y’all,” you said when the clock on the wall hit 12:30pm. “Let’s pray for our neighbours before we go.”

“Except those faggots, right?”

“Excuse me?” You said as quickly as the words had reached your ears.

Mr. Dylan’s son - Scott - tilted his head in confusion. You had known it was him; he was usually the one who spoke out the most. And his views were… well, they were perfect copies of his daddy’s views, and that wasn’t something you accepted. Especially not when they came out sounding the way it just had.

“I ain’t prayin’ for those faggots up north,” he repeated.

“Don’t say that word,” you said. “Why would you even say that?”

He sighed and looked at you like you were stupid. “Daddy says those fa-” he paused at the look you gave him, “-homosexuals are dyin’ cause they’re sinners.”

That coil in your stomach from earlier had turned into hot lead. A part of your mind told you to keep your mouth shut; you were in the middle of a church in the middle of a very Baptist town. It was dangerous to say anything that could be considered problematic or un-Christian.

But those people were dying and no one cared. They were suffering for loving someone society told them they shouldn’t. No one was trying to help them, they were just being condemned for something they couldn’t help. All the guilt of the world was being thrown onto them for nothing more than the sake of putting the attention on someone else.

Like you, they were being punished for the sin of loving the wrong person.

You could feel a heat growing in your chest. “They’re God’s children too, and they deserve prayers and love just the same as you and me.”

“That ain’t what my daddy says,” Scott defended.

You couldn’t recall another time you had been itching to beat a child.

“Your daddy is divorced,” you said, “and that’s just as much a sin as anything else. We still pray for him, don’t we?”

Scott thought for a moment. “Yes ma’am.”

“Then we pray for everyone, understand?” You said.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied.

“Good,” you exhaled. The heat in your chest wouldn’t go away. “Now bow your heads and let’s pray.”

The prayer was half-assed at best. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Scott had said. The absolute nerve of Mr. Dylan to tell his son such a thing. You could only be so upset with Scott. He was a kid, and kid’s would mimic whatever their parents said. It was natural, and you wouldn’t fault him for it.

But you could certainly fault Mr. Dylan.

The kids all ran out of the church to go meet up with their parents in the parking lot. The sun was starting to shine down on everyone, and you could feel the asphalt burning through the soles of your shoes. They were a horrible pair, but they were the only ones you had that didn’t rub the blisters on the back of your heels. A small price to pay for the sake of not having nasty scars on your feet.

Across the parking lot, you could see the whole crew leaning against their cars. They were all talking and laughing, most likely catching up. You desperately wanted to go over and talk with them. You wanted to be part of their family again, to feel the comfort in acceptance.

But RJ’s arm stayed wrapped around Lorraine’s waist, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to go through that just yet.

You turned your body to go back into the church; you hadn’t grabbed any of your stuff, and Daddy usually wanted help cleaning up before heading out to lunch. If you could help him then maybe God would forgive you for the day. Surely he wouldn’t hate you if you were in His house-

-a loud smack hovered below the ringing in your ears before you felt the sharp sting.

Your eyes teared up almost instantly, before you could even bring your hands up to press against the tender flesh of your right cheek. That heat in your chest from earlier had frozen, leaving you motionless even as the threat loomed above you. Even though you couldn’t make out the words, you could vaguely hear the low rumble of a voice over the ongoing ringing.

When you finally managed to blink away a few tears, you looked up. First you saw someone’s back; they were so close you could smell them. Beau. In front of him was Mr. Dylan, standing tall and furious. He looked like one of the avenging angels. Was he coming to kill you? To end your miserable life and escort you down to hell himself?

“We may not be in the church, but this is still holy ground,” Beau said. He sounded angry. He was never angry.

“Then you best take her out back and beat some sense into her,” Mr. Dylan said just as angrily. Perhaps more. “If she defends those faggots again, I’ll beat her myself.”

“You’ll keep your hands to yourself,” Beau said. At least you thought he did. The ringing still hadn’t gone away. “And you’ll take yourself on home. Now.”

You finally locked eyes with Mr. Dylan, and you wished you hadn’t. He was furious. You couldn’t recall a time you had seen such raw hate in someone’s eyes. What could have caused him to have such a visceral reaction to someone’s differing opinions on life? Was that not one of the better parts of life? Being able to disagree and live in harmony?

“I’m watchin’ you,” he said as he pointed a finger in your direction. But just as Beau had commanded, he turned around and left.

“Are you okay?” Beau asked almost immediately.

“I’m fine,” you said slowly, ignoring the slight copper taste in your mouth. “I just wanna go home.”

“I’ll tell your daddy,” he said. “Go get in my truck.”

You didn’t really listen to what he was saying; the ringing had mostly gone away, but things still sounded a little dull. But you knew you could make it to his truck. Your steps were uncertain at first, and you felt like you were drunk. With the way the world tilted ever so slightly beneath you, you were sure you looked drunk too.

You passed the crew without a glance. If they were looking at you, you didn’t notice. The only thing you could focus on was stepping up into Beau’s truck and the warm metallic blood on your lips. Had it come from Mr. Dylan’s ring? Or had you bitten your lip when your head snapped back? You weren’t sure; you didn’t think it mattered.

The window felt cool on your cheek. It was a welcome feeling, easing the stinging sensation ever so slightly. What you wouldn’t give to have a cold steak on it. Maybe a cold washcloth if you could swing it. But as your eyes started to close and the noises stayed at a low thrum, you figured the window was more than good enough.

You were asleep before Beau came back to the truck.

—---

The barn was empty on Tuesday afternoons. Those were the days you used to find yourself hanging in the rafters with Lorraine. Sneaking away before you had found better ways to be together. Your fingers ran over the rough wooden beams that you had sat on time and time again. Even though it ached, you smiled at the memory. You were thankful you didn’t have to pick splinters out of your ass anymore.

“Beau said you were here.”

You could hear the creaky wooden ladder before you saw Lorraine pulling herself up onto the rafter. It had been just long enough for instinct to kick in, and you looked at her left hand. That ever-present pressure in your chest eased a little when you noticed she wasn’t wearing the ring.

You should have been ashamed of being relieved.

You weren’t.

“How’s your cheek?” She asked. Her hand lifted and hovered over your cheek before she thought better of it and let it fall back to her side.

“Fine,” you said with a shrug. You both knew it was a lie. The bruise had turned an ugly dark that circled your eye and highlighted the split of your lip.

“I don’t love him,” she said without hesitation.

“I know,” you said with a nod as you sat down on the barely-standing hay bale.

Lorraine sat down beside you and let her head rest on your shoulder. You desperately wished she wouldn’t. Her touch still sent a fire down your spine. The feel of your heart beating in sync with yours was enough to drive you to near-insanity. You craved her touch far too much for her to be so gentle with you.

“Can we please talk when I get back?” She said softly. “We have to.”

You didn’t want to talk. Honestly, that was probably the very last thing you wanted. No part of you wanted to hear about her having to marry RJ and pretend to be happy about it. Yeah, you knew it was going to happen. Some part of you had always known it would happen eventually. You were hopeful, but you weren’t stupid.

What you really wanted was for her to hold your hand. To pull you in for a kiss without fear of getting lynched. You had just gotten beat outside of a church, but you wanted to be able to feel love without fear of reprise. And you couldn’t even have something as simple as that, because you wouldn’t dare put her in such a position.

Lorraine lifted her head when you still hadn’t said anything. Her eyes held that pity that you hated. They always seemed to hold that pity when she looked at you. You dared to lift your hand to cup her cheek. The scars were healing up nicely, and you could barely tell the difference when your thumb rubbed lightly against her cheek.

You shouldn’t have done it. The crew was in the driveway, waiting for her to come down so they could get going. You didn’t care. You leaned forward and kissed her lightly, ignoring the sharp pain in your cheek. Her lips were warm and soft; they always were. She tasted of home.

As you sat there, kissing the woman you loved with the desperation of a man on his deathbed, you believed you would be happy if those were your last moments. If God had come down in that moment to take you, you would have been content. The last thing you would have experienced was a moment of love and the taste of Lorraine on your lips.

“I love you,” you mumbled against her lips.

You hoped she understood the many other things you were trying to convey with those three words. I love you. You’re my home. I have betrayed my God and my family for you, and I would do it again. The world hates me and wants me dead, but I would give up everything for you. Only you.

“I love you too,” she said just as softly before leaning forward into another kiss. Something softer. Somehow holding more desperation than the last.

It was all over far too soon. It was bound to be over too soon. Lorraine had a life outside the four walls of the barn, and you were being called back to the church. When she pulled away, you chased her lips for a moment more. One more kiss, one more touch, one more instance of the comfort and turmoil and peace that she instilled within your soul.

“I promise I’ll be back,” she said. “Please be here when I get back.”

You nodded. “I’ll always be waiting for you.”

Her answer was one more kiss, filled with everything she didn’t have time to say. It could have lasted for the rest of your life and it still would have been too short. When she pulled away, everything felt cold. But you were brave. You watched Lorraine head back to the ladder and pause. The tears in her eyes matched your own. As much as you hated to see her cry, it left a feeling in your chest that she hated leaving just as much as you did.

“I love you,” she said. Perhaps a bit too loud. You didn’t care.

“I love you,” you repeated.

She bit her lip and continued her way down the ladder. You let the tears fall freely as you listened to her boots on the gravel making their way to the van. It started up quickly and they were gone almost as soon as the van door closed. The barn didn’t feel so familiar when she was gone. No, it felt empty, foreign.

Sinful.

You waited until the moon was high in the sky before coming down from the rafters. It wasn’t wise to be out so late, but you had nowhere else to go. Beau and Huck had left the night before to help with an emergency, and home held no comfort. All you would have done was rot away in your bedroom, and even that didn’t sound desirable.

Instead, you found yourself walking to the church. It would take a solid thirty minutes, but that was alright. After all, what else would you be doing? You were certainly in no mood to sleep. You wanted to stay awake so you could remember the feel of Lorraine’s lips on yours for as long as possible.

She was right, you would need to talk. Even if it was a talk to cut everything off completely, you both needed to be on the same page. Neither one of you had to be happy about it, but the inevitable was coming to fruition. At some point, one of you was bound to get married. And not to each other.

Perhaps you could all still live near each other. It wouldn’t be the same, and you would still have to hide away, but it would be better than nothing. All you wanted was to stay close to Lorraine by any means necessary. If that meant you could only stay close to her as a friend, you would do it. It would drive stakes into your heart day after day, but it was better than losing her forever.

Your feet were aching by the time you reached the church. Like the true Southern child you were, you had gone barefoot for the night. Your body was used to it, but that didn’t mean the long walk on dirt and gravel wouldn’t leave its mark. Not a single part of you cared about the dust as you opened the church doors and walked into the chapel.

The candles up front were the first things you lit. They weren’t numerous, but they were enough to light the small part of the pulpit that you kneeled in front of you. The carpet was rough against your knees; you must suffer to worship God, your Daddy had said at one point. Nothing about your beliefs were easy, and that was the point.

You rested your hands on your thighs as you looked up at the cross hanging behind the pulpit. It was a simple wooden cross, stained white. If you looked at it hard enough, you could see every one of your sins staining the cross. A horrific red against the startling white.

You wanted answers. You wanted to know why you were being punished. Had you not been good? Had you not been dutiful in your passion for Him? You had done everything you had been told. You had preached, you had read His word, you had followed His rules to the letter. Most people struggled to follow the most basic of rules, and they certainly weren’t being punished.

Tears welled up in your eyes not from sadness, but from anger. He had created you. He had known everything about you and had created you anyway. And now you were being punished for that very same existence? No, you had been good, you had behaved. You were a good girl. What would it take to prove that you were good?

The church doors clicked.

You hastily wiped the tears from your eyes and stood up. No one was supposed to be at the church, it was late. Whether it was a person or an animal, no one was supposed to be around. Should you defend yourself? Daddy usually had a gun at the church, but he had started taking it home lately to prevent accidents.

“Needed some extra prayers?” Mr. Dylan asked. His voice gave him away before you even turned around.

He was in his usual work clothes, but his pistol rested loosely in his hand. Part of you hoped he had brought it for protection from the coyotes and wild boars that liked to roam during the nights. You weren’t entirely stupid enough to believe your own hope.

“How’s ‘bout I pray with you,” he said as he walked closer.

You didn’t want him to. You wanted him to go on home, and you would go on home as well. Neither one of you needed to be in the church so late at night, you both needed to be home. Your families were waiting for you, weren’t they? It wasn’t proper for you to be in the church alone with a divorced man.

“Mr. Dylan-”

“-go on,” he insisted as he used the pistol to gesture to where you had been only moments before. “Kneel and pray.”

You did as instructed. “What would you like me to pray about?”

“Ask God for forgiveness,” he said. You couldn’t see him from where you were kneeling. “For the both of us.”

The carpet still stung on your knees.

“Forgiveness for what?” You asked. Your heart was beating so loudly in your ears you weren’t sure if you would even hear him.

“See if He’ll forgive you for that hellish demon you’ve been afflicted by,” he said.

You kept your mouth shut. You couldn’t recall what he meant. Yes, you had defended homosexuals on Sunday, but surely that wasn’t worth threatening you over, was it? He was a bit rash in his decisions, but he wasn’t ignorant. He wouldn’t risk jail just for this.

“And for you?” You asked.

“See if He’ll forgive me for doin’ His work.”

You heard a familiar sound from the pistol. Your hands shook. Your mind was screaming at you to turn around, to face him. He wasn’t the bravest man, there was no way he would kill you if you were looking him in the eye. And yet, your heart told you to close your eyes and pray.

“Somethin’ ‘bout you never sat right with me,” he continued. “Never figured you for one ‘a them queers.”

You had heard of this happening. Really, you shouldn’t have been surprised. But you were. You were scared. There was no beating around the bush, you were flat-out scared. He was holding a gun to your head. Wasn’t that something Daddy had always talked about in church? If someone held a gun to your head and said he’d shoot you if you were Christian, would you admit it? You had thought it was just some silly question he used to get people to think about his lesson.

You had never imagined he would be right.

“I shoulda done somethin’ ‘bout you years ago.” He just couldn’t quit talking. He’s nervous. “I ain’t gonna let you ruin these kids.”

He cocked the gun again; he must have uncocked it at some point. He just needed to get it over with already, what was he even waiting for?

The shaking in your hands stilled. Perhaps it would be for the best. The suffering would end. What would it be like not to hurt? Surely Lorraine would be alright, she had RJ and the crew. Beau and Huck would keep her safe. They always did. You wouldn’t have to feel that pressure in your chest and you could still watch over her anyway, couldn’t you? Probably better than you were now.

Something cold pressed against the back of your head.

“Say one last prayer.”

You risked tilting your head up to look at the cross one more time. Maybe it was time you died for your sins. After all, you hadn’t lived with the guilt for years without thinking this would happen eventually. How long had you truly thought you could get away with such a secret? No, this was bound to happen.

Lorraine had been smart enough to get out of town. She had gotten herself a beau that would be suitable for the purpose and had left. No one had any time to question her, and as much as you hated it, she had been right. Maybe she could be safe after all of this. Maybe she wouldn’t have to be so afraid.

She would forgive you. Lorraine had never been one to hold a grudge against you. Against others, sure, but not you. You were glad you had told her you loved her earlier. It eased the guilt. She knew you loved her; she knew you would have died for her. You were just upholding your end of the bargain.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let the guilt start to fade away. You had spent so long afraid of what God would do to you for your sins. Seemed He didn’t really care all that much; it was man who cared. No one was going to come save you. You let your mind wander to Lorraine as the barrel pressed harder against the back of your head.

I don’t want God’s forgiveness. I want Lorraine’s.

The metallic sound made you flinch, but you didn’t hear the shot. Your body froze completely. Had you missed it? Were you already dead? It didn’t even hurt, maybe it was quick. That was the best anyone could hope for, right? For it to be quick and painless.

You cracked your eyes open and looked around. It was still your church. The cross still loomed over you like some holy judge and executioner. Were you in purgatory? Well now, that would just be worse than hell, you believed. An entire afterlife full of nothing? You would rather burn in the fiery pits.

“I suggest you step away from my sister.”

“Roy?” You asked immediately even though you knew you should have kept quiet.

You turned around quickly, ignoring the carpet burns on your knees. It was him. Roy was standing near the back of the chapel, rifle held in steady hands. You didn’t know he still had one. It was aimed directly at Mr. Dylan who, for the first time, looked surprised.

“You’d best put that gun down, boy,” Mr. Dylan said. “This don’t involve you.”

“It does if you threaten my sister,” he said again. He wasn’t looking at you but gestured his head. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“Stay where you are,” Mr. Dylan said. He froze when Roy readjusted the rifle.

You kept your eyes on Mr. Dylan as you slowly pushed yourself up to your feet. His grip on the pistol tightened, but he otherwise stayed still. Each step you took was slow, calculated. It felt like you were walking before God to the gates for judgment. Your every move was scrutinised and all it would take was one wrong step.

But he never did anything. He just watched you until you were standing firmly behind Roy. The shakiness that accompanied his every move was gone, replaced with something you didn’t recognise. It was reminiscent of the old Roy, the one who had never gone to war. The only difference was the dull look in his eyes.

“Go get in the truck,” Roy said softly.

“What?” You looked at him. “I ain’t leavin’-”

“-Now.”

There was a harsh tone to his words. Authoritative. He sounded just like Daddy when he was preaching. It left no room for argument; his word was law. There was too much comfort in the way he held the rifle. If you left him, would he kill Mr. Dylan? Would he kill a man in the middle of the church?

He had nearly done the same to you.

Perhaps that was a good point.

“Okay,” you said aloud since he wasn’t looking at you.

You backed away slowly, keeping your eyes glued to the both of them. The last thing you wanted was to turn around and have something happen. It would have been shameful to go out that way. But no one else moved; they just stared at each other until you were out of the church and could run to Roy’s truck.

The silence was almost painful. You could hear the crickets outside creating a symphony with the locusts. If you strained your ears, you could hear a few frogs. But you weren’t listening to the wildlife; you were listening for the gunshot you were afraid was imminent.

Each second ticked by so slowly you felt you had aged another few years. What was taking him so long? He needed to leave Mr. Dylan alone so you could both go home. You could all get some sleep and pretend none of this had ever happened. You wouldn’t tell anyone if he didn’t, you just wanted it all to be over so you could see Lorraine again.

It felt like your heart had nestled in your throat by the time Roy walked outside. He wasn’t even looking back at the church. The rifle was casually slung over his shoulder, and for a moment, you could imagine him in the war. But then he got in the truck and tossed the rifle in the backseat.

He didn’t even put on his seatbelt before driving off.

“What happened?” You asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Roy,” you said again.

He missed the road to your house.

“That’s our turn,” you said aloud.

His hands gripped the wheel tighter.

“Roy, what the hell is goin’ on?” You asked again.

“We stay here, they’ll kill you.” The blood in your veins froze. “I know some guys out East.”

You leaned back in the seat and looked out the window. It was dark outside, but the stars were bright. Orion’s Belt was there, just as always. Night after night, he appeared to give you consistency and comfort. You didn’t entirely feel it.

“What about Lorraine?” You asked. There was no point in hiding it anymore; Roy wasn’t stupid.

Roy sighed. “She’s got Beau and Huck.”

His words didn’t put the pressure back in your chest. No, it was something worse now. It wasn't pressure, it was a knife. A knife that had missed your heart completely, keeping you alive as it twisted deeper, touching your very soul with its fiery edges.

Lorraine wouldn’t know what happened to you. She wouldn’t know where to find you. What if something happened and she needed you? What if you needed her? That wasn’t supposed to be the last kiss you gave her. You weren’t supposed to leave without even telling her goodbye. How were you expected to keep going when you knew you couldn’t see her again?

A hot tear fell down your bruised cheek. God had a cruel sense of humour.

You would have rather died. At least it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader

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