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toournextadventure · 2 months

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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 (our little secret i) (our little secret ii) (our little secret iii) (our little secret iv) 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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sehunniepotwrites · 4 months

Text

WITH YOU | MK.L | THREE

SYNOPSIS. There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.

PAIRING. mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE. college!au, friends-to-lovers!au, tooth-rotting fluff, humor WARNINGS. profanity, sulky!mark because he failed his exam and lost a game, mention of (non-alcoholic) drinks, mentions of creeper guy that doesn't get a damn hint

WORD COUNT. 1.2k+

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

I. WALK YOU HOME | II. DIVE INTO YOU | III. DRIVE | IV. MAKE IT WITH YOU

Mark Lee having a bad day was a rare commodity. The athlete was seldom seen with his brown eyes aimed to the floor and a frown stitched onto his face. No, he was usually spotted with a bright sparkle in his irises, a grin that was way too wide for his small and handsome face, his hockey gear tucked in under his arm, and most importantly, you.

Maybe that was the stark difference between Mark’s drastic moods. You weren’t present at the home game that just finished. On top of it being midterms week, an ultimate stressor on its own, you skipped out on today’s game in favor of finishing a midterm project with a partner that may or may not have been putting some moves on you. Hearing that news after basically bombing his Biology exam that was worth twenty perfect of his grade just added onto his sullen behavior. Instead of focusing on the game, Mark’s mind was void of the strategized plays and off the ice, floating all the way down to the campus library–where you were.

Mark really shouldn’t be upset. He should’ve been proud that you put your grades first instead of a game. After all, you weren’t a student athlete; this game shouldn’t mean a thing to you. But it was his game. You were his lucky charm. You always have been and you always will be.

Sure, others showed up to the games with his number painted onto their cheeks in their university colors and poster boards that displayed his name but they weren’t you. You weren’t the one in the crowd with the pretty, mismatched ribbons in their hair or screaming his name as he scored a goal. You weren’t there, drowning in his away game jersey like you usually were. You were drowning in school work with a guy that would not leave you alone.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I just have to stick it out until the end of the week and it’ll be okay. I notified my professor and we’re meeting up in their office so I’m not left alone with the guy.”

“Yeah but–”

“Go and score a goal for me,” you hushed Mark, pressing a manicured finger to his lips when he tried to push back. “Promise?”

Mark’s frown grew. “But–”

“Ah,” you replied, adding more pressure to his lips. Raising your free hand, you brought your pinky towards him. “Promise?”

Mark sighed in defeat, linking his pinky with yours. He shook your intertwined hands. “Promise.”

Knowing you won, you grinned. “That’s my Marky. Now, go! I’ll see you tomorrow! You’ll be fine without me.”

But he wasn’t.

And it’s sad how reliant on you Mark became. Before you, he could fully function on his own. Now? Mark was seen with you more often than not. You were like an extension of him, something he couldn’t live without. His teammates and friends noticed it; Haechan wouldn’t let Mark go a day without teasing him on the ice. Johnny, who wasn’t on the team, often made a lot of noise during games to let Mark know exactly where the two of you sat. And Jaehyun, bless his soul, always explained the technicalities of the sport so you understood each and every play-by-play in order to cheer Mark on.

He wasn’t fine before, during, or after the game and all he could think about was you. Nothing else mattered but you.

To top off this horrible day, they lost the game. There were definitely other factors that contributed to the loss but the most defining one was that Mark’s head wasn’t in it. He tried taking your mind off of you but quickly deemed it impossible. Even after he showered, lugged his sorry ass out of the hockey arena and into his car, his mind was still glued to the thought of you. Driving aimlessly around campus didn’t help and before he knew it, Mark’s hands fiddled with his dashboard screen until your number was dialed.

Two rings later and he heard your voice. “Hey,” you greeted, voice booming from the speakers. Your voice was soft unlike the other times you answered the phone–a lot gentler, like he needed to be approached with caution.

“Hi,” Mark mustered out before going silent again. All the two of you could hear were the sounds on the road.

“What’s going on?” you asked with that same soothing voice.

You knew what happened. You weren’t there to witness the losing game but word travels fast. Johnny and Jaehyun called you shortly after the game, relaying an abbreviated version of the game while escaping the disappointed crowd. They made it known that Mark was off his game the entire time. Your friends made a light joke, saying it was because you weren’t there, and pointing out how he seemed different whenever you were in attendance. You brushed off their teasing but assured them you would check on your best friend.

But despite knowing, you wanted the news to come from Mark. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay with you too. You could practically hear him shrugging as he replied, “Dunno, I just wanted to see you.”

Noticing that Mark was so close to shutting down completely, you answered, “Well, I’m always down to see you. Care for a drive, Marky?”

He caught the sound of rustling from your ride and figured you were rushing to get ready before he arrived. The arena was a mere seven minute drive from your housing complex, not giving you much time to get yourself together at all. Prior to him calling, you were most likely nestled up under your comforter, adorning your favorite pair of sweats and oversized hoodie to keep you warm. Mark wanted to say that you didn’t have to change, but knowing his best friend, you’d probably ignore whatever he said.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”

“I’ll see you in a few then,” you said with finality before hanging up the phone.

A few minutes later, Mark pulled up to your complex, only to find you already downstairs. You didn’t come empty handed, the drink tumbler he always used when he was over at your place in one hand and your tumbler in the other. He reached over the console to open the passenger door for you and you immediately slid in, handing him his cup.

“Hey you,” you smiled at him before pressing a short kiss to his cheek. Whereas he caught you off guard the last time you went to the beach, his soft lips grazing against your cheek, it was your turn to surprise him. The action shocked him so much, he almost dropped the steaming drink in hand.

“H-hey,” Mark stuttered a bit pathetically, swiftly turning his attention to his tumbler. Bringing it up to his lips, he tasted his favorite comfort drink–hot cocoa with whip cream and marshmallows. The temperature was a bit too hot, the liquid burning his tongue after having a lick of melted whip cream, but he didn’t dare complain. He took another sip of it before putting it down and shifting the gear to drive.

The drive itself wasn’t necessary to Mark, he already felt a bit better in your presence as you buckled your seatbelt.

It’s you—you’re what he needed. You’re what he wanted. And you’re the one person that would always bring a smile to his face. It didn’t feel right to admit it to you now, not when he was just sulking in all of his sorrows. Maybe another time or place. But for now, Mark was content with you in his passenger seat and his hands on the wheel, ready to go anywhere as long as you were at his side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hi, it's been a while, hasn't it? i'm slowly writing again, starting with finishing all the drafts that have been sitting in my docs for a hot second! my writing style's change a bit so don't mind the stylistic changes (if you even notice it). i apologize it's short but i didn't have much planned for this one. it's just marky sitting in his thoughts.

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @bat-shark-repellant @bebsky @donutswithjaminthemiddle @suhnnyskhies @baekhyuns-lipchain @emmybyeakitty @sokkigarden @iwishiwasthemoontonight @stvrrynight @ppangjae @luvenshiti @ferxanda @jenosuh @mxrcayong-main @lebrookestore @the-universe-in-you-jjh @planetkiimchi @hannie-dul-set @kdyism @lovesuhng

reply to this post or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #mark scenarios #mark imagines #mark x reader

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lululandd · 10 months

Text

rabid; (i.)

pairing: platonic simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 956

warnings: comedy, aftermath of torture, mild gore

note: heheh >:3 (also on ao3)

summary:

ghost has a love-hate relationship with his neighbour of six years. on one hand they’re quiet enough, nice enough, considerate enough and never once had bothered him in any way, but on the other hand he is a highly trained soldier with highly trained senses and the things he hears travelling through his walls are batshit insane.

part i. | part ii. | part iii. | part iv.

He guesses they are an entertainer or a comedian or some sort because on rare occasions, they—whether he wanted to or not—made him laugh. The absurdity of the questions and things that came out of their mouth really makes him feel like he has a glimpse of what a worry free civilian life could be.

On one particularly rowdy night he heard the one sided conversation about anal, which rapidly escalated to how peoples arseholes can stretch up to seven inches in diameter and therefore, theoretically could fit two smaller raccoons.

He listened in fascinated horror how that thought came into their mind, how they associated arseholes with raccoons, and why in christ fuck did they sound so cheerful about it. Maybe he’s just a battle hardened, workaholic soldier that has only seen carnage and suffering, but even if such a thought came to his mind, it would not be classified as a happy thought and he would not laugh about it.

Until eight months later where he’s interrogating an American that he really wants to just straight up murder and remembers his neighbour.

He opens the door that leads to the rest of the warehouse and calls out to his men, “I need two raccoons. Small but not pups.”

He was met with silence and a confused looks, but he saw Gaz and Soap get on it and round up several soldiers.

“Alive!” He barked at them.

—

Soap looked worriedly at Gaz, “What do you think he’s gonna do with live raccoons?”

The other man shrugged, “You think he’s gonna threaten him with rabies?” Gaz gnashed his teeth together, “Let them bite him or something?”

One of the Lance Corporals behind them chimed, “I kinda wanna see.”

In came a chime of ‘yeah’s from the other men.

—

Ghost had made sure the American in question heard his request of the live raccoons before taking a seat on the table holding all his tools and lighting up a cigarette.

He looked at the man’s surroundings, the litter of teeth and nails on the floor, three parts of his severed ring finger, and the blood splatters on the makeshift plastic floor. The cleanup crew’s gonna at least be a little happy about that.

“You like raccoons, mate?” He offers, lighting what seemed to be his third cigarette.

The question caught him off guard. “What?”

“Raccoons. Trash pandas. Those chubby lil wankers with grubby hands.” He curled his palms and did mock scratching motions.

“You’re crazy.” He spat.

“I am.” For even thinking of trying this over his neighbour’s demented jokes.

Fourty five minutes later Gaz came knocking on his door.

“Got your furry friends, boss.” He gestures at a cage sitting by the door. The animals seemed calm, they couldn’t have just nicked it from some random bins and throw them in there.

“Cheers, Gaz.” He saw the man linger. “Anything else?”

“Can we observe, Sir?”

“No.” came his quick answer. If he really has to do what he thinks he’s gonna do, he’d rather his men not see it. They’ve seen so much in their line of work already, he doesn’t want to add to their nightmares.

Imagining one of them having PTSD from seeing a harmless animal makes him feel guilty.

He took the cage from Gaz’s hands and placed it nicely on the floor, a little way away from the American’s feet.

“You know that saying?” He puts on his best southern accent, mimicking Graves. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

The man’s eyes widened and he tried so hard to shift further into his seat, trying to create as much distance between them as possible. Ghost lets the moment go on for a little longer. It makes all the difference, really; whether you rush into the torture or letting them sit and wonder about the choices they think they have.

“I heard somewhere that your arse can stretch up to seven inches in diameter.” He pointed at the raccoons, “The normal sized bastards can fit into a four inch hole. But I’m being nice today and gonna give these smaller ones some wiggle room.”

He can’t help but crouch closer to the cage and coo at them as the man starts yelling for help.

“So.” He said in a calm voice, listing his head slowly when the man had stopped screaming his throat dry. “Since I’m a very nice man today I’m gonna give you two options.”

Fat rolls of tears had started to run down the man’s cheeks, his chest heaving as he begged for mercy.

“Do you want me to sedate these raccoons so they don’t claw your insides or do you wanna..” He remembers a word that floated into his flat one night, “..rawdog it?”

—

Soap had never seen a cleaner interrogation room before. Not from Ghost, the man’s usually so brutal about it. He remembers seeing parts of a live brain one time because Ghost had bashed their skull so badly and remembered having to shoot the person dead out of pity. But today? The intel was good, the man was still alive with almost all of his body parts; save for some of his teeth and nails and the chopped up finger,

and the raccoons.

They were alive and Ghost seemed to never have opened the cage at all.

—

When Ghost came home that month he heard his neighbour say something about a ‘little birthday celebration’ for tomorrow. He checked his watch and decided to walk to the bakery and get them some cake. That last operation went smoothly, and he has them to thank.

He can’t wait to hear what other mental things that will come out of their mouth in the future and apply them to his work.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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axelsagewrites · 26 days

Note

Could you do a Roy or Jamie fic where the reader gets hurt? Even something silly like getting hit in the head with a ball at practice or something! They’re super concerned and want to take care of them! I also love angst…sorry if it’s a stupid idea. No worries if you don’t want to write it 💜✨

Jamie Tartt*Practise Mishap

Pairing: Jamie x f!reader

Word count: 1291

Warnings: reader getting hit by a football (which hurts a lot btw from experience), Jamie feeling guilty, fluff

A/n: i love this idea btw ive been wanting to write something like this for a while but i made this more fluff than angst

Masterlist here

You’d never actually seen Jamie at practise. There was the occasional time where you dropped him off or picked him up after, but you never lingered since he needed to concentrate. However today Jamie in all his genius managed to forget his phone this morning.

“Wouldn’t have forgotten it if you hadn’t have distracted me love,” he teased, a smirk toying on his lips that made you smack his chest.

“Can you not?” you said, nodding to where the coaches stood only a couple feet away.

Of course, Roy heard. A loud groan came from him before he barked at Jamie, “Back on the field Tartt,”

“You staying to watch Jamie in action?” Ted asked, far more politely than Roy who was sulking at the suggestion.

You looked between him and Jamie who seemed to perk up at the idea, “Is that allowed?”

“I don’t see why not,”

“Maybe he’ll actually put some effort in,” Roy mumbled.

Jamie just rolled his eyes at Roy before giving you a quick kiss, “Get ready to see the king in action,” he said before running back on the field as you laughed.

“How do you stand him?” Roy grunted.

Truthfully you found Jamie’s cockiness annoyingly attractive, but you didn’t think Roy needed to hear that. “What can I say? I’m a saint,” you joked.

Even though the practise was interesting at first it was just boys kicking balls around a field and the illusion quickly worn off. That plus you were supposed to get a bunch of things done at home since it was a rare day off. You turned to Ted to tell him, “I’ll probably shoot off in a minute or two,” you said at the same time as someone yelled “Watch out!”

Roy tried to grab your arm, pulling you out the way, but not fast enough and a ball planted right in the middle of your chest, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground with a thud and all the air was knocked out your lungs.

You heard Jamie shout your name, but you were too busy coughing up a storm and trying not to be sick. Roy and Ted had crouched down beside you, Beard shouting for Nate to run for the first aider. “Are you alright love?” Jamie asked, dropping to his knees beside you.

“I think- “your attempts to speak was interrupted by more coughing and the urge to be sick, “Ow,” you winced.

“What the fuck were you doing Colin?” you heard the footballers begin to argue as they all rushed to your side.

“I was trying to pass to Isaac! I didn’t know he didn’t see me,”

“When I said improve your kick, I didn’t mean kill Jamie’s bird,” Roy yelled at him, standing up.

Ted tried to calm him, but it was Jamie who spoke first, “Oi! The lot of you move it. you’re crowding her now piss off,” his anger washed off his face when he turned back to you, “C’mon love let’s get you some help,”

“I’m fine,” you winced as Jamie pulled you to your feet.

“No, you’re not now be quiet and let me help you,” he said as he helped you over to sit on a bench at the side. The first aider came and gave you a once over and said it was all good but to be careful. So, Jamie naturally made them triple check. Colin also came over, apologising a million and one times to which you assured him it was okay, and Jamie tried not to death glare him.

Some water and painkillers did help but you still weren’t feeling amazing. Ted walked over with a guilty smile on his face, “How we are doing over here folks?”

“Better now,” you smiled, hiding your wincing as best you could.

“I’m gonna kill Colin,” Jamie muttered.

You rolled your eyes, placing a hand over his, “It was an accident babe. Let’s just let it go, okay?” Jamie didn’t say anything, but you knew he wouldn’t. “But I should defiantly go now,”

“Well Rebecca gave me a call saying to tell Jamie to take the afternoon off and take care of you,” Ted said and before you could protest, he cut you off, “Its doctors orders, okay? Now scamp you too. And try take it easy, okay?”

You felt bad making Jamie miss the end of practise but right now football was the last thing on his mind. after dropping you off at his place and surrounding you with pillows and blankets Jamie went on a Tesco run for snacks.

When he got back you laughed when you saw the almost overflowing bag. “We’ve got enough to survive the winter,” you joked as he sat it down. “You’re spoiling me,”

“Never,” Jamie said with a bashful smile as he pulled out the flowers from behind his back, “Got ye these as well,”

“Aw Jamie,” you gushed, standing up to take them from him but you winced slightly as you did.

Instantly concern washed over his face as he grabbed your arm to steady you despite you not actually falling, “You alright love? I knew that women missed something. What hurts- “

“Jamie,” you interrupted him, cupping his face with your hands making him pause in his tracks, “I’m fine baby I swear. Are you?”

“Yeah, course I am,” he said, wrapping his arms around you, “I just don’t want you getting hurt and that. I just feel bad’s all,” he said, mumbling as he hugged you tighter.

You moved your head to rest on his shoulder, hugging him back, “But why?”

“You were there to see me and then you got hurt. I know how hard those balls can hit,” he said before sighing, “Its all my fault,” he mumbled making your heart break.

You pulled back only to pull him to sit on the couch next to you, placing the flowers on the coffee table, “It was an accident. It was no one’s fault,”

“It was colin’s fault,”

“It was no one’s fault,” you repeated, rolling your eyes with a small smile, “Now are you gonna sit and mope all day or are you gonna take care of me?”

Finally, a smile cracked onto his lips, “Thought it didn’t hurt anymore?”

“I lied,” you said, sinking back into the couch in a dramatic display, “I am wounded beyond belief. You’ll need to do everything I need,” you joked with a hand splayed across your head.

Jamie leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, “Don’t I always?” he smiled. “Want me to put those in some water?”

“Yes please,” you grinned as Jamie got up to sort out the flowers, but you called out before he could leave the room, “Can we have a movie night?”

“If that’s what the lady wants, that’s what the lady gets,” he grinned, “Just try not pick a total chick flick,” he added with a smirk that made you roll your eyes.

By the time he’d returned with drinks and a takeaway menu you already had 27 dresses queued up, “Oh c’mon,” Jamie protested as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Please, I’m injured,” you teased making him roll his eyes but finally agree. Despite his protests Jamie was more into the movie than you were and made you pinkie promise to pause it when he went to get the food when it arrived.

Four chick flicks and an unholy amount of food later you and Jamie were curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets. “Feeling better?” he murmured in your ear though you could hear from his voice he was already half asleep.

“Feeling perfect baby, thank you,”

“Anything for you,”

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General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @perla434 @selenestar78 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @urfavnoirette @randomstory56 @qardasngan @https-luvvia @im-the-fucking-lunar-prince @bryandechartisasmolbean @glorywielder101 @tiinkerbell @the-holy-pigeon @andreaxxx44

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#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x y/n #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt oneshot

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gabyun · 3 months

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧ he likes me, he likes me not. - n.riki

pairing - niki x fem! reader

genre - highschool! au , bestfriends to lovers , fluffy fluff, teenage love, awkwardness in some parts, amusement park date

warnings - none besides like a few swear words😭 AND ITS VERY CHEESY

summary - you and niki hangout consistently, multiple times a week. the air started to feel different between you two, but both of you just tried to ignore it. niki, unfortunately wasn’t able to ignore it so easily. he felt butterflies from such little things you would do, little things you would say. he lately had a fuzzy feeling around you, but he just kept telling himself ` i don’t like her, we’re just too close. i don’t like her, i don’t like her, i don’t like her. or do i? `

wc - 2.7k

a/n - ahh this is my first time even writing something like this, i hope its not cringe or anything and i hope it doesnt seem way too rushed. i’ve been wanting to write stuff for awhile now and i finally had the chance to so i hope this came out good 😽 lmk if theres anything i should keep in mind for the next one !! i also finished this at like 2am so its not entirely proofread but definitely give me advice 🙏(also this entire time ive been listening to ur so pretty by the wasia project so this is like the background song of this story.)

you and riki were inseparable. firstly, you guys had almost every class together so it truly added onto the fact that you both were rarely seen without each other. secondly, you both lived on the same street since second grade meaning you two walked home together everyday. so, obviously people had speculated that there was something between you both. but, you guys consistently turned the idea down. it was now last period, english class. you guys inevitably sat beside each other. " hey niki " you began. "hm? whats up?" he perked up after having his head laying down on his desk. "do you wanna stop at the convenience store before we head home? im kinda hungry and both of our parents dont get home until 6pm." you asked. "hell yeah i do!" he looked up at you excitedly. "but you have to pay this time. i didnt bring any money" "ugh, fine" you sulked. "y/n i literally payed last time." you shot him a dirty look. "fine. but dont get $30 worth of snacks like that one time." "yeah yeah whatever.."

the bell rang, and it was time to go home. you and niki excitedly walked to the convenience store you both previously mentioned. you walked up to the door, opening it and jokingly saying "ladies first" to niki. "tch" he said sassily, rolling his eyes. the door chimed whilst being opened, and the employee greeted you both. you guys walked around the snack isle, the brightly coloured drinks illuminating certain sections of the store. one in particular caught your eye, so you walked over and grabbed it "i cant believe you dont like milkis." you said. "there are way better drinks y/n. " "yeah? like what." you challenged him. "um, anything besides milkis?" he sarcastically smiled. you walked over toward the icecream bin, selecting your favourite one. "niki, u want ice cream? they have ur favourite." you reached in deeper to grab it. "yeah sure. thatll be nice on a day like this" "ugh, i don’t want winter to come.. it’ll be so cold!" you shuttered. "you’ll survive y/n" niki sighed. you walked up to the checkout counter with niki, placing your items down. "that’ll be $14!" the older, but sweet looking woman said. "thats much less then last time." you pulled out your wallet, giving her the money. you both walked out, and you sat down on the concrete steps next to the store windows. niki followed, sitting right next to you. you never noticed before, but he smells good. like a mix of shampoo and some sort of cologne. you never knew he wore cologne. you guys simultaneously unwrapped the ice cream together, and started indulging in the sweet snack. "this is so good!" you said. "i bet mines better." niki remarked. "let me try yours." he put his ice cream in-front of your mouth, and let you take a bite. "mmh.. its alright.. niki i just think my tastes are better then yours" you shrugged playfully. your relationship was always playful. you guys were constantly teasing each other, and it felt good. it felt good to be so close to someone. as you guys continued, he looked over at you. the lights of the convenience store lit up the back of your body as the sun started setting earlier due to it getting slightly colder, making your hair glisten. he never noticed how pretty your hair looked under the bright lights. you both finished up, starting to get ready to finish your walk home. as you guys cleaned up, you looked over toward his face. you giggled, reaching your hand towards his mouth. "you’ve always been such a messy eater." his eyes widened, a hint of pink slightly covering his cheeks. "i-i can clean my own face.." "oh. sorry niki." you trailed off, confused. this wasn’t your first time cleaning off his face yet to him it felt different. he felt an unusual feeling, his heart fluttered and his stomach felt warm as his face did too. throughout this whole interaction, the convenience store lady observed quietly through the window. "i miss my high school years." she sighed.

late summer turned into fall, and fall turned into winter. nikis feelings just kept getting harder and harder to ignore. niki was in the change room after gym class with his friends. "are you sure you dont have feelings for y/n?" his friend jay asked. he hesitated momentarily. "yes. i am sure.. why are you asking..?" he questioned, worriedly. "so you wont care if i ask her to go out with me?" niki looked shocked by his comment. "you dont even know her.. why would you wanna ask her out." he said, annoyed. "niki, she is really beautiful. im sure theres a lot of other guys who would love to get a chance with her." his other friend heeseung added. "still! y/n doesnt need to be dating shitty guys like you. she deserves someone who will treat her right.. especially not you guys." he huffed, even more annoyed. "and i dont like her." jay and heeseung shrugged in defeat. "or do you?" jay added. "i dont.." niki trailed off, thinking about it more. "whatever you say, buddy." heeseung said, sarcastically. niki finished changing quickly, grabbing his bag and leaving for his next class. once the door shut, jay and heeseung and a few other boys began talking "he definitely has feelings for her." "yeah, 100%" "i don’t doubt that" "its getting extremely obvious" "mhm"

he stood outside your house, waiting for you to come out so you both could get headed to school. he oddly felt nervous. you opened the door, and waved, cutely. you were wearing a scarf, as niki was also. you both had big puffy jackets. you walked towards him. "lets go! i dont wanna be late again." he took in your beauty. "mhm" he answered, quietly. as you were walking, you offered him your other earphone. you guys had similar music tastes. ‘somethin stupid’ by frank sintara had begun to play. "i love this song." you said, softly. "yeah. it is really nice." he breathed out air, the cold made it look like smoke. you opened your pocket mirror, adjusting your hair. "do i look good? i had such a bad hair day yesterday." niki turned to you, not surprised by your question, but hes never truly seen you that way before. hes always known you’re pretty, but he never actually felt that way. "you look beautiful. you are beautiful." he said. "w-what?" you said, completely taken aback. he’s obviously complimented you before, but about your looks more specifically? this time, it really sounded like he meant it. you looked away from your pocket mirror, facing him. he looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. you both stood there for a couple seconds more. "n-nothing.. forget i even said anything." he looked down at his feet. you could practically feel his embarrassment radiating off of him. you guys continued walking, listening to your shared playlist. a couple minutes go by and you began to speak. "thank you, niki." "hm?" "thank you. for calling me beautiful." you looked down at your feet, smiling. "oh.. don’t worry about it." he rubbed the back of his neck. both of your feelings were becoming more and more apparent as the days went on.

you were laying in bed, reading your favourite book with a comforting lamp on. you were under your fluffy blanket, and your curtains flowed softly as your window was the slightest bit open. you felt the buzz go off on your phone sitting next to you.

riks : omg y/n

you : omg niki

riks : remember that amusement park we mentioned wanting to go to for awhile?

you : yes ofc i remember?!?

riks : WELL THEYRE OPENING NEXT WEEKEND!!

you : NO WAY FR??

riks : YES DO U WANNA GO

you : is that even a question.

riks : alr alr IM SO EXCITED

you : ME TOO

you shut off ur phone, kicking around in your bed out of excitement. you and nikis parents would always take you guys to amusement parks or fairs when you were little. you guys haven’t gone in quite a while, so this was gonna be fun, but also nostalgic. big rides were always your favourite thing, but he hated them. he was always so scared to go on them, so this time you were absolutely determined to make him go on one with you.

around a week passes by, and its time to get ready to go to the amusement park with niki. it was still pretty cold, so you had to take that into account. the park was opening back up for some sort of winter event, apparently it was supposed to be really pretty. you’re getting ready, styling your hair and doing your makeup. usually, you dont put that much makeup on. but this time, without even realizing, you were doing alot more. you put some really pretty eyeglitter on, using waterproof mascara so your eyelashes hold better, just overall doing stuff you wouldnt usually do on a day to day basis. "wait.. why am i so worried about how i look, its just niki." you told yourself. just niki. as you were continuing to get ready, you were getting increasingly nervous. "this isnt a date y/n, this isnt a date. you have nothing to be worried about. its just a regular hangout with your bestfriend." you kept telling yourself. you put your jacket on, and you also grabbed a fuzzy scarf. little did you know, niki was telling himself the same things in the mirror as he tried to lessen the sweat on his palms.

you and niki arrive at the amusement park. it was beautiful lit, even though it wasn’t late the lights of all the fun rides illuminated the place wonderfully. you and niki looked at each other and smiled brightly, bringing back tons of memories. niki ran over to the bumper cars, and you followed. it was always his favourite thing to do. you hopped in the car of your choice and niki went in the one beside you. the game started, and you tried your best to hit niki as hard as you possibly could, whipping him forward practically giving him whiplash. you were basically pissing yourself laughing as he gave you the nastiest look. it took him a few tries but he finally ended up beside you once again and repeatedly rammed into you. you guys went 2 more rounds before becoming tired and finally leaving the bumper car area. you both adjusted yourselves, but niki noticed your shoelace was untied. "y/n, hang on." he knelt down in-front of you, and began tying your shoelaces with his slender fingers. "i could’ve done it myself but thank you niki" he looked up at you, smiling and nodding. you ruffled his hair and he shot up. "hey!! i spent a while trying to make my hair look good.." you laughed at him, continuing to look for other things to do. one of those water gun games caught your eye. "niki look! we used to always try and win plushies on that." his head swung toward you, immediately challenging you to see who could score higher. you both were trying your hardest, and you obviously won. he sighed in defeat. the employee handed you this adorable hamster plushie. you looked at it, smiling. "niki you kinda look like a hamster when you’re sulking." you put the hamster up to his face to compare, jokingly. "tch, yeah yeah whatever y/n" he said. "niki, you should have it. it looks like you anyways, and you’ll be reminded of me everytime you look at it." you shot him a joking wink. he took the plushie as you said he should. some time passes by, and you guys already ate and drank stuff, went on the carrousel and all of the basics and its been a few hours. the sun was starting to set, and the lights of the park continued to get brighter. "niki. we need to go on a big ride." niki looked at you for a split second, as if you just told him his pet died. "um absolutely not?" he answered. "niki pleaaaaaase" you clung onto his arm, pretty close to his face. "cmonnn just this once?" you blinked at him. he was looking directly at you, but no words were escaping his mouth. "f-fine.." he looked away, with a tinge of pink covering his ears. you were unable to tell if he was blushing or if he was cold. "i never thought you’d actually agree. this is like the best day ever?!" you grabbed nikis arm, and rushed into the line of one of the relatively larger rides, but not too large so niki wouldn’t be too terrified. after a bit you guys got seated beside eachother, and the employee pulled the over the shoulder restraint on you guys. you could tell niki was obviously nervous. "y/n i cant believe you made me do this. i actually despise you right now." "im sorry!!! only this once okay, i’ve always wanted to go on one with yo-" your sentence was cut short as the ride began, making a loud noise. "y/n i cant believe this." niki panicked. you giggled slightly as the ride made its way up to the highest point. you put your hand out for niki to hold, and he grabbed it immediately. after a few more seconds of comforting him the ride reached its highest point. after the it holding for a few seconds, it let go and your free hand went up. niki squeezed tighter and screamed loud. "Y/N L/N I DONT KNOW WHY I AGREED TO THIS" "I DONT KNOW EITHER" you yelled back. after around a minute, the ride came to its final stop.

you got off smiling and happy, whereas niki came off completely disheveled. it was a funny scene, you looked like a joyful golden retriever puppy and he looked like a grumpy black cat. you looked back at him and noticed his messy appearance. "sooo, how was it." you asked curiously, fixing his jacket along with his scarf. "never again." his eyes met your face. "it couldnt have been that bad." you reached your arms up, fixing his fluffy hair. you smiled at him whilst he stared into your face, unable to think of anything besides you.

it turned late, and it was 10 minutes left on the clock before the beautiful fireworks started. you guys found a decent place to stand, and you were both snacking on a pretzel. you witnessed multiple couples walking by, and thinking about how you wouldn’t be so opposed to being in a relationship. "gosh, theres so many couples here today." "theres couples here constantly." he added. "okay, but still. they’re all so lovey-dovey." "i guess so." you guys continued talking and the fire work show started, beginning with a few small ones. you both looked up in sync, mesmerized by the bright colours. twinkling eyes, niki looked over at you. it took him a while to take it in, but at this very moment his feelings truly solidified and he wasn’t so unsure anymore. it was forever since you spent a day together at your favourite childhood place, and now its the place where he recognizes how much he likes you. "y/n?" he says your name. "mhm.. whats up..?" you say slowly, completely and utterly enthralled by the fireworks growing in size. "i-i.." he trailed off, still facing the fireworks but his head facing you. "i think i like you." a huge firework exploded. "no, i do like you." it took you a moment to process. you turned towards him in shock. "i hope this doesn’t ruin anything, i cherish our friendship and i don’t ever want to lose yo-" you cut him off, grabbing his face. "you could never lose me. i like you too, dummy." you gave him a quick peck as another firework exploded. it felt like there were mini fireworks exploding in both of your hearts.

#enhypen niki #niki #niki x reader #nishimura riki #niki nishimura #enhypen #enha x reader #enha #enha fluff #enha niki #gabyun #first post #first story #fluff #enha amusement park #amusement park date #enhypen nishimura riki

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the-offside-rule · 3 months

Text

Fernando Alonso (McLaren) - Envious

Requested: yes, tumblr via dm

Prompt: Can I please make a request where Fernando is in McLaren. He just won the championship twice and he is seen to be incredibly cocky. Y/n, a TV interviewer does not like this but she does seem fond of Leiws and he gets maddddd. He decides to change for her and please make the ending cute <3 (ITS GONNA BE A TWO PART)

Warnings: cocky Fernando, jealous Fernando

Envious: part 2

Y/n tightened her grip on the microphone, trying to maintain her composure during the interview with the Fernando Alonso. His cocky demeanor had been evident from the beginning, but it seemed to intensify as the questions progressed. They had met back during Fernando's first season in F1 as she was lucky enough to grab an internship. While he at first seemed lovely and polite, his true colours had come when Y/n returned to the paddock the season after Fenrnado won his first championship. He had completely changed. "Do you think you could win the championship a third time, or do you think you've moved past your prime?" Y/n asked, before moving the microphone towards Fernando for him to answer her question.

Fernando flashed a smirk at his interviewer. "Well, you see, I'm just that good, I don't think my prime has even come yet." Y/n clenched her jaw at the first part of his answer. "Of course I think I can win it this year." Y/n rolled her eyes, masking her irritation as best as she could. "Well you have won it twice in an immensely talented grid, I believe you could." Fernando smirked. "Well it's so lovely you agree with me. It seems fairly rare nowadays." He winked. "Thank you for the interview, Fernando. Good luck." She quickly said, her relief palpable. Fernabdo blew her kiss, annoying her as ever. "That's all the media for you today, Fernando. You can-" Fernando stopped listening to his media manager once he heard the unfamiliar sound of Y/n laughing. His head snapped around quickly, only to see his new teammate smiling and laughing with Y/n. She never smiled when she was interviewing him, what made Lewis so special? Their animated conversation and laughter stoked a pang of jealousy in Fernando.

Later on in the evening, Fernando sat in the McLaren hospitality, eating his dinner when he looked out the window to see Lewis and Y/n walking together once again laughing. Lewis stood at the door whilst Y/n simply spoke to him. Fernando looked around to see if there was a camera just on the off-chance that this was for a TV bit, but not a camera was jn sight. Fernando nudged his personal trainer, gaining his attention. "What's the deal with Y/n and Hamilton?" He asked, an edge to his voice. His trainer looked out before responding. "Ive heard they've been going on dates for a few months now. Seems like she's quite taken with him."

Fernando's jaw tightened. "I think so too." Fernando mumbled. His trainer arched a brow at the spaniard. "What?" Fernando shrugged. "Don't tell me you're jealous." Fernando scoffed. "Of course not. It's just-" He paused and nodded towards Lewis. "Him? I'd say she could do better." He laughed, eating a fork full of food. "Whatever puts your mind at ease, Nando." Fernando looked back over to the pair at the door and watched as they hugged. He slapped his fork down on the table and stood up. "Im going to the garage." Fernando announced, marching towards the door. The doors slid open and the cameras began flashing with the sudden departure of Fernando. Y/n didn't even look at him and that only irked him more. He walked straight into his side of the garage and lay against the back wall, looking out onto the pit-lane.

How was he this jealous of Lewis? He was a rookie. And besides, it wasn't like he actually had feelings for Y/n. She was just a journalist. He thought to himself for a moment and closed his eyes in defeat, cursing under his breath. He did like her. Now what?

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #fernando alonso #f1 oneshot #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso imagines #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso oneshot

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

Cruel Summer | Chapter IV: 'Tis The Damn Season

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 8.2k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, Neteyam x reader being the absolute cutest, some fluff, all the feels, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: Neteyam in unable to stop himself from confessing a truth he's tried to bury for years, a truth that will change everything between you. Jake shares news with his son that will threaten whatever peace Neteyam's come to know.

A/N: there's no earthly reason why this chapter had to take so long except my own inability to write it and procrastinating with requests instead. i hope this was worth the wait, and as this is the second to last chapter, prepare yourself for the main meal soon. I don't think that will take that long, cause I've had the last chapter in my mind before I even started writing this story to begin with. I hope you enjoy, i'd love to hear your thoughts, i love to hear from you besties.

: ̗̀➛ listen to the Cruel Summer playlist here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

I'm stayin' at my parents' house

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you in my hometown

Neteyam’s head was spinning with worry and mind-numbing fear, watching his sister’s spirit be taken out of her, her bioluminescent freckles that usually shine brighter than any other Na’vi he’s ever seen so dim they were barely alight anymore. He was picking at his nails nervously, a habit he hasn’t had since he was 7, watching as his mother was trying her best to shake her awake, almost like she was trying to will life back into her. The wails got to Neteyam more than he cared to admit, and eventually, he excused himself and left the family marui, settling instead for watching the tiny glowing fish as they surrounded and circled his ankles. Neteyam rarely felt powerless in his life. No matter what the situation was, no matter how dire, he always felt like he could somehow make it his own, he could somehow make it work. But now, as he stood there, listening to cries and tries, listening to his family trying to figure out how to save his baby sister, Neteyam felt hopeless and helpless, like a child. In moments like this, he missed you most. It was hard being without you always, his body having to unlearn and relearn instincts and feelings, having to rewire his brain from having been so accustomed to you and your body, and your mind and your soul for the past 19 years of his life. You would know what to do. You’d have some medical trick or a human way, you’d scream everyone out of the room and you’d just somehow figure it out. You always were able to just… figure things out. He missed that, along with everything else.

“I’m going to contact Norm and Max, ok, baby? It’s going to be alright, they’ll know what to do. It’ll be alright.”

Neteyam was terrified as the hours passed, waiting for the flying machine he knew would be coming any minute, and what would it bring along with it. His questions, his biggest dream and biggest nightmare, all plaguing him and his mind for the past few hours, were swiftly answered as from the helicopter came three figures, one blue one and two humans. One human in particular he cared about. His heart was beating so loudly it was almost completely covering the incessant, deafening sound the propellor blades were making. You were so beautiful, even more beautiful than he remembered. He couldn’t help the way his eyes trailed over your body and focused on scars that have appeared in the time you were apart, scars that made his stomach drop, or the way your hair was shorter, or the way you have gotten leaner and more muscular. He couldn’t help his mind wandering and twisting every change, a deep feeling of sorrow and weird jealousy, for the people that got to watch you grow, for the people that had to touch your body to heal your wounds, for the people the got to help you when he didn’t - when he couldn’t.

Your eyes immediately found his, the way they always had the power to, and his breath hitched in his throat, the way it always seemed to when you did. He didn’t miss the way your eyes widened imperceptibly as you noticed him, nor the way they hardened as his presence took his toll on your mind. The frown and the hurt, the slight glistening of tears threatening to spill reminded Neteyam of the last time he saw you, the time that could have gone better, should have gone better than it did, and how he never got the chance to say goodbye. So many words he wanted to say, so many confessions that have rested in his chest for years that needed to be let out but weren’t, now close to spilling out as a blurt of messed-up feelings. So close, yet so far. Because this wasn’t the time - it never seemed to be when it came to you and him. You stood in the back and watched as Norm and Max greeted his father, and you all made your way back to the tent, the attention fully back on his sister who was still unconscious. The sight of her tugged at his heart so much it was making him sick, so he refused to walk in and see what they were doing, what human devices and contraptions it took to bring Kiri back to them.

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me

But if it's all the same to you, it's the same to me

His skin felt like it caught fire as it perceived your body in its vicinity, as you walked out of the marui and settled on the weaved pathway by the edge of the water, feet dangling off it. It felt so strange, having you back in his space. Like so much and yet nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t left you, and his life behind, his happiness and hope, like you didn’t kick him out and refused to send him off and at least pretend to make it easier on both of you. Like he never had to keep pretending his life wasn’t permeated fully by your very essence, your very being, by everything you were.

“Vol…”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Neteyam felt anger bubble up inside him. This whole thing was so fucking unfair. You were so fucking unfair. He didn’t choose any of this. He didn’t want to leave you, why can’t you see that? Why could you not at least try to understand, try to be a little sympathetic towards the fact that this was killing him, and he suffered everyday, and the cold he felt from you cut worse than any blade, hurt worse than any wound.

“God fucking damn it, Vol. Can you stop with the attitude and just please talk to me? I don’t see you in months, you show up here, clearly, you wanted to see us… see me. I’m here, so just talk to me. If you have to scream, or shout, or kick me, you can do that as long as you fucking talk.”

“I’m not here for you. I’m here for Kiri.”

“Oh, stop it. Norm and Max could take care of Kiri well enough, and you know that. You’re not just here for Kiri. You’re here for me, too. I want to talk, we have to talk.”

“No, Neteyam. We don’t have to talk. There’s nothing to talk about because nothing fucking matters anymore. None of it. We’re just strangers now, right? Acquaintances. I’ll see you every few months whenever Jake needs something and that’s about the extent of our relationship. Nineteen years of being there for you, of being your best friend, and in a day, you somehow became a stranger. You gave away the right to talk to me the second you walked out that door.”

Neteyam watched as you took your leave, going back into the tent, leaving him once more to deal with all that stood to plague him.

It took hours, but Kiri’s condition wasn’t improving even with all the contraptions and equipment you were using on her. None of you knew what was wrong, although Norm and Max thought it was epilepsy. It looked like epilepsy, you thought, but if it had been, she would be back by now. It hurt you watching her like that, laying on the floor, the light of her freckles so dim they were barely visible anymore, and you touched her, running your hands over her chest and arm, hoping you could pray the light back into her, so you could tell her you’re sorry that you didn’t say goodbye to her. You would tell her that every time you are in the forest and you find a bead or flower that you’ve never seen before, you collect it with her in mind and keep it there in the hopes you’ll one day see her again, and she could use them for her tops or for the jewellery she always makes for everyone she loves. You missed her, the same way you missed them all, and you needed her to know that, despite all the hurt and the pain they’ve left behind, she would always be your sister.

Neytiri eyed you curiously while you spent time with her daughter, and you cowered a little under her gaze. You knew it was dumb, but you’ve always loved Neytiri. You watched your whole life as she was the best mother to her children, and how patient and caring and funny and attentive she was, and you always hoped one day she’d learn to love you too, and that through her you could finally feel what it was like to have a mother, a loving mother. But she never did, no matter the time that passed or the efforts you made, so you stopped trying and forsook your futile aspirations. It was time to grow up, and you did - not fully whole, never quite the person you hoped you would become, but there was no point in dwelling on matters of the past, of realities you’d never be able to undo.

“Will she live?” Your eyes snapped to her in shock as she spoke. She very rarely ever spoke to you directly. And not only did she do just that, but she asked you a question. A genuine question about the well-being of her daughter. You couldn’t believe she cared what you thought about it to ask. She sounded so sad and desolate, her voice hoarse and nasal from the amount she had cried.

“I’m sure she will… she’s a tough girl. She’s special, she always has been. I think she’ll be just fine.”

“Then why isn’t she awake yet? If it’s what they say it is… why?” Her voice broke at the last word and yours was not far off when you answered her.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think they are right. I think it’s more complicated than that.”

She looked confused at you, then approached and sat down in front of her, across from you, as her hands also found Kiri’s body, pushing the bangs out of her face.

“Her seizure happened at the Tree of Souls. At the bridge between this world and Eywa’s. I think nothing we, humans, or our technology could possibly do could bring her back. I think she needs the Tsa’hik.”

Her eyes widened at your words and she immediately got up and sprinted out of the tent, and you hoped you were right, partly because of Kiri and partly cause maybe this way, not that it mattered anymore, but maybe she’d finally stop looking at you like a stray dog and more like an actual person.

The next thing you knew, Neytiri came in with an array of people, the most imposing of which was a woman, who you assumed was the Metkayina Tsa’hik, who intimidated you beyond belief from the second she walked in, all tall and beautiful and imposing… and pregnant. You instinctively rose from your spot and got out, feeling a sudden chill in the room and knowing for a fact it wasn’t a place you were welcomed in anymore. You didn’t care, as long as it meant Kiri would be fine. You joined the rest of the family and the scientists outside, the silence thick as all of you watched with heavy hearts, hoping for a miracle. It took a while, but eventually, the silence was disrupted by gasps of relief as Kiri did indeed wake up, immediately tackled by several of her family members hugging her, consoling her as she cried.

So we could call it even

You could call me babe for the weekend

'Tis the damn season, write this down

Early in the evening, when everything settled down, you made your way outside the marui once more, looking at the sky as it was preparing itself for eclipse, finally able to take in the beauty of this place, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before and more breathtaking than you could have ever imagined. You felt Neteyam’s presence flood your own as he approached you - your senses might never be as acute as theirs, neither your vision, or hearing, or touch able to hold a candle to their own, but none of that ever mattered when it came to him. His being was enough to turn you inside out, and sharpen your senses so that it would pick up everything about him, from his slightly musky and woody smell, that changed throughout the month as his heat approached, to the sound and cadence of his footsteps that were unmistakable to you no matter how far they were approaching you from, to the slight clink of the beads in his hair, that sometimes felt like it moved on its own accord, to even his breathing and its pattern, and the way it seemed to increase whenever he was close to you.

“Now can we talk? Kiri’s fine, she’s finally fine. Please, Vol…”

“Neteyam, I can’t make myself any clearer. I have nothing to say to you.”

Neteyam felt anger overtake him again. What would he have to do to get you to listen, to get you to give him one second, just one second to explain to you, to talk to you? It was so fucking unfair, to have to lose so much and yet be painted as the villain by you, the person who’s supposed to know him better than anyone else in the world, who used to understand him, to whom he never had to explain any of his thought process because there was no need. You always just knew. He hoped he didn’t have to do this, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and with that rationale in mind, Neteyam approached you suddenly and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and making his way out of the village.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! Put me down!” Neteyam pondered her question for a second. Maybe he truly was out of his mind. None of this was like him at all, this is not something he would ever have done a while ago, never before you. Neteyam was selfless, that’s how he was brought up to be, that’s the only way he knew how to be. But for the first time in his life, he needed to be selfish. For the first time in his life, he would do what he wanted to do, and he wanted to talk to you. Alone. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to remember what it was like for his heart to jump out of his chest and for his nostrils to be flooded with the only scent that drove his senses haywire and for his mind to scramble trying to understand the myriad of emotions running through it while he looked at you. He hasn’t seen you in months, haven’t felt you in months, and he was supposed to let it go without a fight?

No fucking way.

You were so light in his arms, it felt like he was carrying a doll, and he barely registered your tiny ineffectual fists punching at his back, although he did feel like your legs were definitely stronger, just like the rest of you was since he last saw you. He didn’t stop until he hit an isolate meadow in the mangrove forest, your annoyed huffs and croaky screams drowning out the beautiful melodies played by the birds and his family’s ikran, that now had a home in these trees.

“I have no problem with holding you like this the whole time, but I’d rather look at you while I speak. I will put you down, but I swear on everything I hold dear, Vol, if you run, I will drag you back by your feet if I have to. We are talking, whether you like it or not.”

With that threat, he lifted you off his shoulder and put you gently on the ground. You stood where he placed you, but refused to look at him, a deep frown marring your beautiful face. He sighed, feeling defeated and unmoored, but kneeled in front of you so he can look at your face properly, and you could look at his.

“Vol, we haven’t seen each other in months. I didn’t know whether I’d ever see you again, but you’re here. You came here, out of your own volition. I know you wanted to see me. I know you, Vol. And you know me. You’re the only one that knows me.” He takes a hold of your mask gently and angles your face with barely any force to make you face him. “I was so mad at you for the way you shut me out. For not allowing me to say goodbye the way I wanted to, the way I should have. I needed to hold you, and tell you that I’ll miss you and that you’ll always be my best friend. That I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes could barely hold it in, the urge to let it out and cry. Cry at seeing him again, at how frustrating he was, how angry you were, but how happy at the same time to finally see him again, to feel his touch on your skin and the way it lit it on fire, the way desire and ache and love pulsed through your veins at his mere proximity, how, despite all the months, all the time, all the hurt, it felt like nothing had changed between you, like seeing him again was exactly like coming back home after a long day outside, exhausted and spent, and happy to be comfortable and safe again.

“I don’t care. I don’t care how sorry any of you are. You left your clan behind, and me, all of us behind, to go hide while we stand and fight and worry for our lives and the lives of everyone in the clan.”

Your words struck a chord in Neteyam and he felt the anger prick painfully at his mind, and despite priding himself on his composure, he couldn’t hold it in any longer, not anymore. Months of anguish kept inside finally came out and there was little he could do to stop it.

“We left so we could protect you! Why must you be so stubborn all of the fucking time? This wasn’t done to hurt you, Vol. This has nothing to do with you! None of us wanted to go! Believe it or not, you’re not the only one affected by this. I understand that you are upset and you have every reason to be, but what was the alternative? Either we stayed and the whole clan was even more at risk than it already is, or we brought two humans with us across the oceans to a new clan that hates humans?! Stop being so fucking selfish for one second and understand this isn’t only about you! I fucking lost everything that day! I lost my home, and my friends, and my future as Olo’eyktan, fuck, I lost the woman I lo-“

Your eyes go wide in shock at the words almost spoken, words that you imagined all your life but couldn’t believe right now. That can’t be what he was telling you, right? After all this time apart, after all the time together, in which you shared anything and everything under the sun, in secrets kept and broken promises, it couldn’t be that Neteyam was confessing to you something you swore you’d never feel for each other, something you wanted nothing more than to hear, something that would somehow both kill you and put you back together at the same time.

“What did you just say?”

Time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

Now I'm missing your smile, hear me out

We could just ride around

And the road not taken looks real good now

And it always leads to you in my hometown

His own wide eyes settle after a while, deep, settling breaths calming his heartbeat that he could feel in his throat, in his ears, in his temples. This was it. After all this time, after everything you’ve gone through, ironically now when there was no chance for you, not that there ever was, now when he was mad at you, when he would lose you again in just a short while, now he was about to confess something that has plagued him for years, that he’s wanted to tell you, that he knew he never could.

He slowly brought his hand to your neck and collarbone, eyes tearing up mirroring your own, and he knew it would be easy telling you this, because loving you was easy, and falling in love with you - the easiest thing he’s ever done. His thumb caressed your soft skin and he watched in wonder as your mouth opened slightly, a soft exhale escaping you, and he followed the tear that rolled down your cheek when you closed your eyes from the overwhelming feelings trying you.

“I lost the woman I love. The only woman I’ve ever loved. The annoying, aggravating, impossible woman who I’ve watched become the most beautiful, intelligent, incredible person, who taught me everything I know about anything that matters. Who I promised I wouldn’t fall in love with, but I did. A long time ago.”

You shook your head slightly, feeling the tears fall down your face, the stitches that you managed to put in the wounds deep in your soul coming loose around him, bleeding once more, and you wondered if despite wishing to hear these words for years, now that you have, it was the last thing you were ever going to hear. Because how are you supposed to survive this now, this overbearing pain of loving him, and losing him, knowing all this time he loved you, too, and that this was so far past what you agreed on… that it was love, requited love, crazy, stupid, incredible, one-of-a-kind love?

“You can’t say shit like this to me, Neteyam. You think I’m selfish? How about you? Why would you say these things to me now? I’m about to leave, I’m about to lose you again. It took me months to put back together what you broke, and I’m still not there yet, and now you say this shit, and what am I supposed to do with it, huh? How am I supposed to move on? To accept that I love a man that’ll never be mine, that I’ll never have except in fleeting moments, in secret affairs, that I’ve had to watch turn his back to me and choose duty over me, over and over and over again. You’re being mean. You’re being selfish.”

“You fucking taught me to be selfish. You told me over and over my whole life to be more selfish. Well here I am, I’m being selfish. I want something, and that something is you. I want you. I need you. I need you to know that I’m in love with you, and to know that at least once in my life I get to make love to the woman i love and know that she loves me too, and that this is real, and that I’ve known this feeling and lived this feeling, at least once. Please. Please just tell me it wasn’t in my head. That all these years, despite what we told each other and ourselves, I loved you and you loved me too. And it was real, the only real thing I’ve ever known.”

He sounded so forlorn, so desperate for you to ease his pain and mend his heart that was just as broken as yours, that suffered through as much, if not more, that was laid bared on the table for you to see it, to feel it, to either take it gently in your palms or squish it under your feet. No matter how mad you were, it was hard not to be taken aback and awed at his confession, not to feel privileged to be loved by him, by the best man you’ve ever met, a man who could have anyone in this world easily, whose mere presence in a room commands respect and attention, whose mind and words inspired Omaticaya songs, whose body motivated young men and enamoured young women. He was the best there was, and he wanted you. A human, who had none of the qualities praised and admired in the clan and in his world, but all the ones he wanted and hoped for. Because you were his best friend. And you understood him, and you stood by him through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, your whole entire lives. And you loved him, despite his shortcomings, despite being different to you, and you smiled at him in the way that put the sun to shame, and your eyes lit up when looking at him in a way that put the stars out of work. And you found him funny, which few people did - Lo’ak was the funny one, not him, that’s what he has always been told, but not to you, and if he was honest with himself, he only made jokes to hear your laugh and to feel the way you punched him whenever you found something funny. You have loved him all your life, you’ve been in love with him for years, and despite all that stood against you, all that you knew would prevent your own happy ending, despite your mind telling you it’s easier to just walk away, it’s safer for you to just leave and protect your heart, your heart needed to feel his, and feel him. Your heart needed to know what it would be, to be with him knowing what you knew now, knowing for a fact this is real, and it’s everything.

You circled his wrist with your fingers and your other hand found his hair, that you pushed away from his face. You couldn’t help your smile that felt like the first real one you’ve cracked in months, and the way your heart skipped every other beat taking in his beauty, marvelling at his eyes that were pools of love and lust, of sadness and hope, of anguish and fear.

“Of course it was real, skxawng.” You said with soft sobs. “It’s all real. It’s always been real. My whole life, you’ve been the only thing that’s been real.” You took off your mask, and closed the distance between you and kissed him, and you both melt into it, feeling the months apart fade away, feeling your mind empty of everything outside of him and his taste and his scent, and the feel of his skin as your palms traced his face and neck, of the way your own skin tingles under his touch. As you put your mask back on, struggling to catch your breath, he reaches for the buttons of your linen shirt and undoes them with surprising gentleness and accuracy, so tiny in his huge hands, and slides the shirt down your arms until it falls on the floor. You shudder a little under the breeze now caressing your bare skin and at the way Neteyam’s thumb flickers over one of your nipples, still covered by a black lace bra.

“You’re so beautiful. So, so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to love you, I can’t believe you’re mine. And I’m yours, Vol. I’m yours, I’ve always been yours. I’ll always be yours.”

You said nothing as the seed of doubt didn’t allow you to hope or even consider the future, instead getting lost in the pleasure of his skilled hands on your body, that still knew everything about you, as he laid you down on the ground gently and hovered over you, as his lips drew maps of unknown marvels on your soft skin, so different to his, but still so familiar, and he felt for the first time since his ikran landed on that beach months ago that this place could finally feel like home. He hated how despite memorising every curve, and beauty mark, and scar on your body, there were things that he had to relearn, curves he had to discover as his mouth came to terms with the changes he wasn’t there to witness, wasn’t there to get accustomed to as they happened to you. He pushed the unpleasant thought aside. It just meant he needed to relearn it, and he was happy with that. He was happy to hope he would get to once again know everything about you, and never get the chance to miss you again.

Despite your silence, the tears still came and went, fogging up your mask listening to him and thinking about how much you’ve wanted this, and how much it will all hurt when it will inevitably succumb into nothing again. He stopped and came back to your level as he heard your quiet sniffles, ears perking up at the sound.

“Vol…”

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Neteyam. When you left, it killed me. It took me months to get back together enough to be normal again, if we do this, after everything you’ve said, after what i know, if i lose you, I…”

For the first time in his life and in your life, it was Neteyam who removed your mask covering your face and kissed you, and you swore you could have died then and been happy about it, and thank your lucky star you got to go while feeling his lips on yours, but soon enough he covered your face again and caressed your hair gently.

“We have to do this because of what I said. Because of what you said. Because you are the only woman I’ll ever love, because for all intents and purposes, you are my mate. I want you to be my mate. Because all I’ve dreamt about for years is doing this with you knowing that you loved me too.” His expression changed, and in a serious tone, he continued. “But we won’t do anything you don’t want to, Vol. If you don’t want to do this, just tell me.”

Damn him, you thought bitterly. Damn him for having the ability of making you completely forget and forsake reason or any critical thinking when it came to him, when it came to what he meant to you. Of course you wanted to do this. You wanted nothing more than to do this. And despite how much your mind was screaming in pain at the eventuality of his loss, another part of it was screaming at the possibility of never feeling this feeling, at least once. All you managed was a meek shake of your head, and he smiled, a stupidly handsome smile and you couldn’t help yours from blossoming on your face as well, or the sense of fleeting happiness that enveloped you like a warm blanket.

Despite whatever feelings of love you now knew were harboured in your convoluted relationship, you and Neteyam very rarely acted like it when you had sex. Your love was mostly tangible in the way you healed him, in the way he listened to your endless chattering about human stuff, in the way he looked at you when you said something that he found particularly endearing or the way you looked for him first whenever something anything of note happened to you. Sex, on the other hand, was a means to an end to you most times, just a way to relief tension and stress, a way to give your body what it needed, what it wanted, with someone who knew how to get it there. It was rough, and teasing, it was pushing your bodies to the extremes and testing your own and each other’s boundaries, but there was no need for that now. Because right now, in the way he touched you, in the way you felt, you knew this was different. You knew it was going to change everything yet again, more so than a mere confession ever could. Because now, knowing what you knew, feeling what you felt, you were making love, and it was an intimacy you’ve never experienced before.

Back then, no matter how thoroughly he got you ready, no matter how long the foreplay, there was always a sense of urgency. It lasted all night, and there was still urgency to it. There was none of that now, as he explored every ounce of your body in languid, deliberate movements in between sonorous whispers that sounded a lot like adoration and wonderment, that told you how much he loved you, how much he’s missed you, how you were everything to him and listening to it felt a lot like heaven, a lot like comfort, a lot like home.

He caressed your thighs from your ankles to the hips, and gently removed your shorts and placed them on the ground, next to your shirt. He inhaled sharply taking in your body and how much he missed it, and how much despite all the little changes, you were still very much yourself, and your body was still the one he used to get drunk on every night, that he got to once more tonight. You helped him out by removing your bra and underwear, and you smiled at the way his pupils dilated watching you, his eyes almost black now. You pulled him by his loincloth until he was over you again, and he took no time in attaching himself to you, and his lips to your neck, and his hands to your waist. Your heart was beating loudly as you felt him and he smiled against your chest when his lips felt your quickening pulse, knowing that his was just the same, that this was so much more than it ever was before. He never quite understood while people put so much emphasis on sex, why it was regarded as such an intimate act, especially to humans, but he understood now, as he felt you, as he knew you were in love with each other, that there was no doubt in either of your minds, that this feeling, and what you were doing, was something he could only conceive of doing with you, that this was going to bind you for life, regardless of the bond, regardless of a mating ritual, regardless of anything else. You were his and he was yours, forever.

You reached over and untied his tewng and threw it with the rest of your clothes and just as it happened every time, you were always taken aback by his length, that somehow was always bigger than you remembered, and in light of the months spent apart, you were genuinely wondering about the logistics of how it was ever going to fit.

“I know, I’m a little concerned, too.”

You laughed, relieved that it was a thought shared between you, and doing your best to compose yourself and take a deep breath in, you removed your mask once more with one hand and pulled him towards you with the other, your lips meeting in a wet, messy kiss, filled with euphoric smiles and breathless moans, and for the first time in your life, you felt happy. Even it was just for a little while, just for a short, fleeting moment in time, you were wholly happy, and you had everything you ever wanted. A maskless kiss in the beautiful nature that surrounded you, shared with the man you loved, that you now knew loved you too, and the quiet hope of tomorrow. You didn’t want it to end, even as you felt the world slowly disappear from view, even as he reluctantly put some distance between you and helped you fasten it back onto your face.

“I never missed your room more than right this second.”

“Tell me about it.”

As he slowly entered you, you were reminded of your first time, nearly two years ago now, and how sweet he had been, and how thoughtful and kind, and how he was the same now. He took his time, comforting you at every point, and held you as you cried from the pain of being stretched out after so long, by a length and girth no human normally was supposed to know, and he talked you through it, and you cracked a few jokes in between soft sobs and muffled cries, and you understood then what it felt like to be whole, and mended by a touch or a gaze, as long as they came from the one person in the world that mattered.

When the pain subsided, it was replaced by ecstasy and the best feeling you’ve ever felt, as the pleasure he was always able to coax out of you was magnified infinitely by his confession, and you knew he felt the same by the way he looked at you, by how isolated tears fell from his eyes and onto your mask, how his smile was radiant and reassured, how he held you and touched you like he’d never let you go again, and God, you hoped he never did. When you came, you came together, and the overwhelming feelings left you a panting, limp mess around him, your mind empty from the high and full from the simple “I love you” that followed.

“I have missed you so much, Vol.” suddenly, he picks you up by your waist and turns you so that you are placed gently on his chest, and you sprawl on his body, with him still deep in you, tightening your arms around him and your head on his chest. You lay there for a long while, while he places kisses on your head and runs his fingers down your back and thighs, taking you in, and you listen to his heartbeat, fast and erratic, so much like your own, so much like the soundtrack to your dreams, the music of your deepest fantasies.

It took forever for either of you to move at all, just content being in each other’s presence, making up for months of lost love and lost nights. Eventually, you removed your head from where it has found its once-more home, and looked at him.

“I missed you, too. I can’t believe I’m here. There’s so much I want to tell you.”

And so you did. You spent hours talking, catching up, talking about anything and everything, like you always used to when you were young. You told him about training and how Tarsem is doing a good job as Olo'eyktan, how he wants both you and Spider to be a more involved part of the plan, how he’s got you training and how you feel excited to be more involved in this part of his life that you never quite got to be involved in before. You tell him about every new scar on your body and he does the same, and he goes over the village and the training, and all the new people he’s met and how he likes Tsireya and Rot’xo but not Aonung, he tells you about all the ways Lo’ak is testing their dad’s patience and all the dreams he’s had of you. That takes a while, and you laugh at the sillier ones and cry at the more emotional ones, and cry at the way he was right that you had been selfish, and how much in your attempt to deal with your own heartbreak, you forgot that he was going through his own. You never separated from each other, still hugging, or cuddling, or pressing at least one leg against the other’s, refusing to be more than a couple centimetres apart at a time, if you could help it.

Sleep in half the day just for old times' sake

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

So I'll go back to L.A. and the so-called friends

Who'll write books about me, if I ever make it

And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'

You didn’t talk about the future. About how you knew you would have to leave soon, and what would happen after, you didn’t talk about the hurt or the pain, or the way it would come crashing down in front of you so soon, because right now, it didn’t matter. Because you knew for the first time in your life that all the pain the world could possibly throw at you would be worth this, and if you had to spend your whole life paying for it, you’ve made your peace with that. At least, you got this. And no matter what you lost, you’d always have this.

In the morning, he took your hand in his and lifted you, and watched as you put your bra and panties back on. He didn’t say anything as you bent for the rest of your clothes, clearly enjoying the view, but stopped you as you were trying to get dressed.

“Let’s go for a swim. You have a mask, you can breathe underwater better than me.” He chuckled a little. “I want to show you my new life, I need you to be part of it.”

You were touched by his words. You nodded and dropped the shirt, and removed your hand from his swiftly. Without warning, you started running towards the beach, not looking behind you as you screamed after him.

“Last one in the water has to do whatever the other one wants.”

Neteyam rolled his eyes, but watched as you ran away from him, as you always did, wild and free, and he was relieved to realise some things would never change, and this was definitely one, alongside the eternal love he felt for you. He gave you quite the headstart, but eventually started running, and it took very little on his part to catch up to you, and he listened to your screams of annoyance as his feet touched the water first and he dove in, submerging his body and grabbing your waist and pulling you under with him. He allowed you to take the unearthly beauty in, with a shocked expression on your face, your mouth agape as you noticed the coral and all the fish that were circling you curiously. You reached out for them and they immediately dispersed, and he smiled at how it made you jump slightly, his heart swelling with affection and jubilance at this moment that he never thought he’d get, that he would never forget, that he would cherish forever.

You swam for hours, and for the first time in either of your lives, Neteyam felt grateful for your mask, that allowed you to breathe underwater for extended periods of time, much longer than he could, that allowed you to go with him on an ilu and experience this new feeling that felt so different than an ikran, and yet somehow just as liberating and freeing, and you loved it, and all of a sudden he loved it a little more than he did before.

"So what do you want?" you say playfully as you resurface, your head in his neck, his body flush against yours as you float aimlessly. He just tilts his head, not understanding your question.

"You beat me in the water. I said that whoever wins gets to tell the other what to do."

Neteyam thought about it for a long while.

"I have everything I want right now." he held you a bit tighter as he answered. "I still can't believe you're here. I can't believe these last few hours have been real. There's nothing else I could ever want."

You sighed against him, and he couldn't tell if it was happy or not, and right now, he didn't want to know.

"You're a better person than I am. I would have asked for eternal servitude."

He chuckled as his lips found your wet hair again.

"You got it, Vol."

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

As you walked back to the village, the dream world you lived in since he brought you to the forest was quickly fading before your eyes, and the worries, and the fear were settling in again, like they always seemed to, and it felt a lot like greeting old friends that never left, just hid a little under a curtain of flowy incandescence, ready to pounce at the slightest opportunity. Neteyam's voice broke through the dark feelings overcoming you, like he always had the power to.

“I know it's scary, thinking of what's next. I know. I'm terrified, but seeing you again, Vol, this night, this morning, it made me realise I can't lose you again. So just stay. I’ll talk to my parents, I’ll talk to the Metkayina. We’ll figure it out. Just please stay.”

His words managed to put your mind as ease almost as much as they shocked you in their spontaneity and craziness. Neteyam wasn't a rash person, or a person who just blurted out big life decisions, such as this one. You laughed awkwardly, trying to defuse the tension you felt in yourself and in the air around you.

“How would that ever work, silly?”

“I don’t know. It will work. Or I’ll come back with you, I’ll come back home. We’ll figure it out, ok? Just please say yes.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you were grateful. And so, so happy. Because despite everything, this was everything you've ever wanted, and everything you thought you'd never get. You didn't know why you came to Awa'atlu. To yell at him, to check for yourself how he was doing, if he managed to move on easier than you could. To be angry, to get closure, to say goodbye forever. But now, it felt a lot like you were here for a new beginning, for a second chance at love, and how could you ever say no to that? The little nod makes Neteyam beam, and he picks you up and spins you around, once again kissing each-other against the ticking time bomb of your forsaken mask, laughing against his lips and his cheeks as he peppers kisses throughout your whole face, on your eyes, and your cheeks, on your forehead and your nose.

"Thank you."

We could call it even, even though I'm leavin'

And I'll be yours for the weekend, 'tis the damn season

"I'll go check on Kiri. You talk to your parents, ok?"

Neteyam did just that, as he found his dad sitting alone by the edge of the water, cleaning his favourite weapon, the way he liked to do when there was something on his mind, or something weighing heavily on his shoulders. Kiri's condition must have taken a bigger toll on him than Neteyam realised, he thought absentmindedly. He was so nervous, so afraid of what he had to say and how his parents would react. His mating situation has been a matter of great debate in their family for a years now, and so to tell them he's chosen... a human, essentially giving up his chance at feeling the bond, at a child... he knew would be a lot to take in, but he was ready, and he had chosen, and for once in his life, Neteyam would have his way.

"Dad?"

His father was startled as he got pulled out of his musings, another rare occurence.

"Neteyam, it's good you're here. I need to chat to you."

Neteyam took a seat by his dad, eyeing him keenly.

"Is everything alright, you seem off."

"Neteyam..." the former Olo'eyktan winced a little, refusing to meet his son's gaze.

"The situation with the Metkayina is... a little more dire than I told you before. Tonowari told us the clan is not fully willing to accept us, that they don't consider us one of them, even despite the Uturu given by their own Olo'eyktan. He's worried for our future here, and honestly son, so am I. I don't want us to have to leave again, to have to uproot our family once more.

He's... thought of a solution. For it to be an easier transition. A way forward, a way to unite the clans, the power of the Omaticaya, the blood of the Toruk Makto with the ruling family of the reef people. As you know, Tonowari has an older daughter, a warrior. She's said to be one of the most proficient and skilled warriors this tribe's ever seen. They say she's beautiful and smart. Kind and charismatic.

Neteyam... in order for us to stay, you will have to mate with her."

And I’ll be yours for the weekend..

‘tis the damn season.

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