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Fandom list
♡ Timothée Chalamet ♡masters of the air
♡ Dune ♡ cinema
♡ Austin Butler ♡ Lorde
♡ Josh O'Connor ♡ Luca Guadagnino
♡ Wes Anderson ♡ Joseph Quinn
♡ The office ♡ Arctic monkeys
♡ The last of us ♡ Taylor Russell
♡ The bear ♡ Project Hail Mary
♡ ice skating
I'm gonna update this as I get more hyperfixations lol
if you like any of these things feel absolutely free to follow 🫶🏻
⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. 🗝️ ... thursday i go waltzing to the zoo... .ᐟ
WARNINGS ⊹ ࣪ ˖୨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ established relationship. fem reader.
a/n: something quick while I work on a new richard fic + I really wanted yo write about ryland's kids terrorizing him.
the absolute wonder of a boyfriend you had, ryland grace, was just as charming as he was a nerd. his main victims of said nerdyness were you, since listening to his rants was something that came implicit in your relationship, and his middle school students, who he had somehow managed to infect with his love for science.
if you asked him, he'd say that it's because he was nurturing their minds with the wish to search more knowledge and find out more about the universe we're living in. you'd say it's because he had the most fun classroom to be in, and if kids in middle school were the same, you were sure that they loved the experiments and the solar system he had hanging on the ceiling.
"i did it!" he said as soon as he stepped into your apartment one day, dropping his bike helmet on the entrance floor before walking to where you were sitting on the kitchen island. "i convinced the school board! we're going to the science museum!"
his excitement rubbed off on you immediately, the brightest smile appearing on your face as he stepped in your space. "ry! that's amazing!" you said, cupping his face to peck his lips softly.
he had been talking about this field trip for months now. every day, he'd come home to expose his points to you, how the museum was filled with interactive activities, the guides were one of the most capable ones and most importantly, it was budget friendly!
you would've given him the yes since the first time he mentioned it, but sadly, you weren't the school board.
"i know! the kids are gonna love it!" he replied, barely even kissing you back in his excitement. now you weren't so sure if the field trip was for him or the kids.
a soft chuckle left your lips and you nodded, pulling him in for a second kiss, but you didn't let go until he kissed you back properly. "i bet they will." you said, letting him pull back. "and i bet you're gonna have a great time, too." you continued, playfully patting his chest.
"we," his correction came almost shyly.
"we?"
"yeah, I just- i guessed you'd chaperone. with me. it's gonna be really fun, I promise."
you looked at him, half intending to put down that idea because spending your morning with 20 middle schoolers didn't sound half as fun as he promised.
but then your eyes found his face and the puppy eyes he was giving you, and you were immediately overpowered. what's 20 kids versus your boyfriend having the time of his life? "yeah. okay. I'll chaperone. just tell me when it is so I can take the day off."
that's how you found yourself outside of grover cleveland middle school with a badge hanging from your neck and an overly excited ryland next to you while you waited for the buses to arrive.
the kids had spent the past twenty minutes staring at you like you were a specimen who escaped the lab they were sure ryland had. you tried waving at them, but that only made their eyes narrow in suspicion.
"mr. grace." one brave girl said, breaking the gossiping bubble of middle schoolers who seemed to be breaking you down.
ryland, who had been intensely staring down the road as he waited for the bus to show up like an impatient puppy, looked at the girl when she talked. "yes, charlotte?"
"is she your girlfriend?" charlotte, as you now knew, immediately asked him.
"oh!" he breathed out, looking at you for a second before looking down at charlotte again. "i- well, i mean- we... we have a relationship, yes." he finally said.
"so she is your girlfriend." charlotte clarified.
"yes, charlotte. I'm her boyfriend." he said. a bug mistake, because every kid was now letting out loud "ooooh" and "mr. grace has a girlfriend!"
you feared the second charlotte turned to you, looking at you with a soft frown. "and you kiss him?" she asked.
your gaze moved to ryland, who shook his head and mouthed "you don't have to answer" before your lips parted without a sound, looking back at charlotte. "i hug him." you offered instead. "we hug and we cuddle."
"but that's not the same as kissing. boyfriend's and girlfriend's kiss." she replied.
"well, we do kiss. she kisses me on the cheek." ryland replied now, sounding almost defensive. that brought an amused smile to your lips.
but the kids had a strong opinion on that because seconds later, the whole class was practically shouting "ewwww!"
"hey! hey, it's a very beautiful thing between two people who love each other." he said, raising his hands to placate the class.
"but she kisses you!" one of the other girls said, pulling out a shocked chuckle out of your lips.
ryland looked at you, looking almost offended. "you're supposed to be on my side." he almost whined, which only made you laugh louder.
"I'm sorry. god, i'm sorry, ry."
the museum itself was a bit of a disaster if you had to be honest.
the kids were, surprisingly for you, actually excited to be there. which meant that it was a nightmare to chaperone them because they wanted to run away in all directions possible.
ryland was pretty much the same as them. but he managed to be composed, following the guide's lead as he completed the tour with his group of kids.
your group of kids made it obvious that you had never chaperoned or even babysat a kid before, because they managed to escape the group before you even realized it. you managed to keep most of them together. somehow.
"jared. come on, man, this is the third time you've run away." you called out as jared tried to make a clean escape, but he stopped as soon as you called him out, returning to your side reluctantly.
"i don't even like science." he complained, and you sighed.
"give it a shot, okay? just try to see it as something fun. you get to touch a shock machine, isn't that fun?" you said.
"i guess." he muttered, returning to his friend's side.
your eyes found ryland, who was also in line to see a live bacteria on a microscope, the sight bringing out a smile to your lips as you walked up to him.
"isn't this what you do every day?" you asked him once you were standing next to him, an amused smile on your lips.
he immediately looked down at you, offering a shy smile. "well, you can't ever skip a chance to see one of those guys. it's really something else." he said, defending his position.
you hummed, watching him lower himself to the microscope's height to look down through the lenses, and you could hear a soft, breathy gasp leaving his lips. like he was falling in love with science all over again.
after a few seconds, he straightened up, guiding you to stand over the microscope instead. "go on, take a look." he told you, gently guiding you to take the same position he had.
his hand hovered over your back, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel it. and then you heard another loud and obvious "ewww!"
"guys!" ryland said, looking at his students who were taking in the scene like he was dissecting a living frog.
you were sitting on an inside garden in the museum, eating sandwiches that ryland had packed for the two of you as you kept an eye on the feeding middle schoolers.
"so, are you having fun?" you asked ryland, reaching for the water bottle the two of you were sharing.
ryland looked up at you through his glasses, waiting until his bite of sandwich was completely chewed before speaking. "the kids are very entertained. and they are learning many things."
you hummed, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "so you are having fun." you concluded despite his politically correct answer.
you saw the corner of his lips curl up in a smile. "i am." he finally accepted, and you nodded.
you reached for one of his chips since yours were long gone, popping it into your mouth before he talked. "are you having fun?" he asked back at you, and you could feel his eyes studying you.
you waited until you swallowed and took a sip of water before nodding. "yeah." you revealed, and you were witness of the brightest smile appearing on his lips.
"i knew you would." he said, but you could hear the relief in his voice.
"the kids are very funny." you added, and that only made him more excited.
"they are! they can say the weirdest things sometimes." he replied, his smile turning wider.
as you looked at him, your own smile grew, and you found yourself becoming even fonder of him in just two seconds.
you looked around to check on the kids. they were focused on their lunch, none of them paying any attention to the two of you, not when they were dealing with their own drama.
"do you think we can kiss without them noticing?" you asked ryland in a whisper, returning your attention to him.
he almost choked, but he also took a quick look around before he nodded. "just a peck, though." he mumbled.
you smiled, leaning closer to him to press your lips against his for just one second.
and then, like clockwork: "ewwww!"
this is so cute :'(
ryland & the lippie collection ✿˚ ༘⋆♡˚ | “kiss it, kiss it better, baby.”
ryland grace x fem!reader | a collab with @rockylandphm ♡
—established relationship, very slightly nsfw. [find hers here!]
SUGAR COOKIE
the secretary barely looks up when you step into the front office. “he’s in room twelve,” she says with a knowing smile, “forgot his lunch again?” you lift the lunchbox with a little laugh. “third time this month.”
you make your way down the familiar corridor, the sounds of a lesson drifting from one classroom, lockers slamming somewhere in the distance. room twelve’s door is propped open, and through the window you catch sight of ryland moving around the classroom.
his sleeves are rolled to his forearms, his tie has long since disappeared, and there’s a faint smear of blue whiteboard marker across the side of one hand. he’s humming absent-mindedly to himself while erasing the board, completely absorbed in the task.
you lean against the doorway with a small smile, “mr grace?” you call out, and ryland immediately turns. the moment he sees you, it’s almost comical how quickly his expression changes. the concentration melts away. his eyes brighten instantly, the corners crinkling with that warm, slightly bashful smile that always seems reserved just for you.
“hi, baby!”
“hey, you.” you walk over, placing the lunchbox on his desk with a gentle thunk. “recognise this?” you ask. his eyes drop to it, before shutting tightly. again, damn it. no wonder he stomach was digesting itself. “..oh. i did it again.”
“you absolutely did.” you laugh, and ryland rubs the back of his neck, laughing quietly to himself, “sorry.”
“it’s alright.” you say, smoothing a crease from the front of his cardigan before straightening his collar, fingers lingering for just a second. “good thing you’ve got someone to keep you alive.”
he lets out a soft laugh, “yeah,” his eyes stay on you, “..very good thing.”
for a moment, neither of you says anything. you’re just looking at each other with the same love struck look that seems to be glued to your faces around each other.
the classroom is quiet, sunlight spilling through the tall windows and catching little flecks of dust in the air. you glance at the clock, he probably had papers to grade. “i should let you get back to work.”
“oh. uh.. yeah, right.”
you pull away from him, and take a step towards the door. “see you tonight?” you ask, and he nods. “yeah.”
but before you could take another step, he quickly stops you, “baby, wait.” you turn to face him again, “what?”
he hesitates for just a second, looking almost sheepish, “…i forgot to thank you.” you smile softly, “you don’t have to—”
instead of answering, he closes the distance between you. one hand comes up almost instinctively to rest lightly against your waist as he leans in, pressing the softest kiss to your lips.
it’s brief and warm, the sort of kiss that happens after grocery shopping, before work, in the kitchen while the kettle boils. the sort of kiss that says i’m happy you’re here. when he pulls back, his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly.
“…why do you taste like biscuits?”
you raise an eyebrow and ask, “…what?”
“biscuits.” he mutters, looking genuinely puzzled, “like…” he trails off again, “…sweet biscuits.”
you laugh, lightly tapping his shoulder, “it’s my new lip gloss, it’s sugar cookie flavoured.” ryland looks like he had a lightbulb moment, “oh.”
he considers that information very seriously from what it seems. then, without saying a word, he gently cups your cheek and kisses you again.
this kiss lingers, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, tongue swiping at your lower lip. when he finally pulls away, he gives the tiniest nod to himself.
“that’s sure is a sugar cookie.”
you fold your arms, already trying not to laugh, “what exactly was that?” he looks at you with complete sincerity, “..quality control.”
“quality control?”
he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking adorably embarrassed. “…wanted to make sure.”
“sure of what?”
“…that it really was sugar cookie.”
you can’t hold back your laughter anymore, “ryland...” he ducks his head, smiling to himself.
you step closer again, smoothing the collar you’d already fixed simply because you like having an excuse to touch him. “did you really kiss me twice just because you liked the flavour?”
his ears and cheeks turn pink as he mutters a quick “..maybe.”
“you’re so cute.”
his hand finds yours without either of you thinking about it, his thumb absently tracing circles across your knuckles. he looks down at your joined hands before looking back up at you.
“…i just really like kissing my girlfriend.”
your heart does the most embarrassing little flip.
you steal one last quick kiss before stepping towards the door. “well…” you smile over your shoulder, “i’ll swear something different next time, we’ll see if you can guess then..”
ryland watches you disappear down the corridor. then quietly touches his lips with the tips of his fingers, smiling to himself like an absolute idiot. he doesn’t get much work done for the rest of the afternoon.
every time he catches himself thinking about that faint sugary taste, all he can think is one thing. my girlfriend tastes like a sugar cookie, and that might be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.
CINNAMON ROLL
the alarm goes off far too early, but neither of you moves. for a long moment, the bedroom is quiet except for the soft hum of the fan overhead and the sound of ryland breathing beside you.
“…morning.” his voice is rough with sleep, barely above a whisper. you keep your eyes closed as you mumble, “five more minutes.”
“…you said that ten minutes ago.” he smiles into the pillow, “i’ll probably say it again.” you grumble. he lets out the quietest little laugh, “…fair.”
another minute passes before he finally leans over to switch the alarm off. a comfortable silence follows, the kind that only exists between people who’ve spent enough mornings together to know there’s no rush to fill it.
eventually, you both drift out of bed, the flat is still wrapped in that strange early-morning calm where everything feels softer than usual. the floorboards creak beneath your feet, and the kettle hasn’t boiled yet.
you shuffle into the bathroom wearing one of ryland’s big cardigans, he’s already standing at the sink, his hair is sticking up in every direction imaginable, and his glasses are still on the bedside table.
he squints at his reflection with a toothbrush tucked lazily between his lips, looking exactly like someone who has absolutely no business being awake.
“…good morning, handsome.”
he looks over through the mirror, despite looking half asleep, his face immediately softens. the corners of his mouth lift into that small, shy smile that somehow still makes your heart skip after all this time.
“hi baby.”
you walk over until you’re standing beside him. without either of you saying a word, he automatically slides half a step to the left to give you room at the sink. you don’t even notice yourself reaching for the toothpaste, and he doesn’t even notice himself handing it to you before you’ve asked. it’s instinct now.
your shoulders brush as you stand side by side.
every now and then one of you quietly says “sorry” while reaching around the other for something, though neither of you is actually in the way.
you’ve simply learnt the choreography of sharing a bathroom, you know exactly when he’ll lean forward to rinse his toothbrush, he knows exactly where you’ll leave your face wash. it’s all wonderfully ordinary. while ryland finishes brushing his teeth, you begin your own little routine. cleanser, moisturiser, spf.
you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear before picking up a little tube from the shelf, ryland glances over curiously, “new lip?” you nod and twist the cap off. “mhm.” you smooth the balm carefully across your lips. “guess.” he makes a thoughtful little hum as you place the tube in front of his nose, he leans in obediently. he sniffs once “…” then again. “…that actually smells exactly like a bakery.”
you smile, “right?”
“that’s…” he nods with complete sincerity “…a really impressive scent profile .” you laugh quietly “you’re such a nerd.”
“correct!” he says it like he’s answering a register. you finish putting the tube away before stretching your arms above your head with a sleepy sigh. “coffee?” ryland asks. “desperately.” you say before starting to walk towards the kitchen. you’ve barely made it through the bathroom door before you hear—
“…wait.”
you turn around, and ryland is still standing by the sink, drying his hands on a towel. he’s looking at you with that familiar expression, the one that’s always just a little shy. “what?”
he shrugs one shoulder, “i don’t think i’ve said good morning properly yet.” you smile, “oh, yeah?” he crosses the floor in a few slow steps until he’s standing close enough that the fabric of your cardigan brushes against his jumper. without thinking, one hand settles lightly against your waist, the other comes up to gently sweep a strand of messy morning hair away from your face, his thumb lingers against your cheek for just a second, then he leans down and kisses you. it’s slow, and sleepy and slightly minty.
when he finally pulls away, he stays close enough that your noses are almost touching, his eyes are still closed for a second, then they open. “…cinnamon?”
you smile, “very good!”
“…and…” he kisses you once more, just because he can, a tiny little peck that somehow makes you smile even wider, when he pulls back again, he gives the smallest nod to himself.
“warm milk, like …icing.”
“it’s cinnamon roll.”
“yes!! i knew it! i like this one.”
“are you genuinely reviewing my lippies again?”
his ears and cheek immediately turn pink. “…maybe.” he scratches the back of his neck, looking adorably caught. “look, i spend a lot of time kissing my girlfriend. it feels irresponsible not to have favourites.” you laugh at his poor explanation, leaning against him, he laughs too, wrapping an arm around your waist automatically to steady you.
“that’s the worst excuse i’ve ever heard.”
“…i know.”
you reach up and run your fingers through his messy blond waves pressing one last little kiss against the corner of his mouth.
“well?”
“well what?”
“what’s the verdict, doctor grace?”
he pretends to think very hard “…excellent.”
“ah, a glowing review.”
“very.”
he smiles down at you with so much quiet affection it almost hurts. “…although, think i’ll need another sample tomorrow morning.”
“you can get a sample whenever you want.”
and somehow, standing barefoot in a tiny bathroom before seven in the morning, hair a mess, coffee still waiting to be made, the two of you end up lingering there for another minute anyway.
LEMONTINI
the beach isn’t particularly busy. just a handful of families dotted along the shoreline, children building crooked sandcastles and the occasional dog sprinting through the surf.
the two of you have claimed a little patch of sand near the dunes, towels spread out beneath a striped umbrella. it’s one of those rare days where neither of you has anywhere to be.
no lesson plans, no meetings, and definitely no forgotten lunchboxes.
ryland is stretched out beside you with one arm lazily draped across your stomach, absent-mindedly tracing little circles against your side while pretending to read the book balanced on his chest. pretending being the key word.
he’s reread the same paragraph four times, because every thirty seconds he gets distracted looking at you. you’re lying on your back, sunglasses perched on your nose, one knee bent, completely engrossed in applying another layer of lip gloss.
ryland watches with quiet fascination. “…new one?” he asks. you smile without looking at him, “mhm.”
“what’s this time’s flavour?”
you hold up the tube, “it’s yellow, can you guess?” he hums thoughtfully before letting his book flop onto the towel beside him. you immediately smile, “ooooh.” you coo, and he raises an eyebrow. “what?”
“here comes the lippie review.”
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” he laughs
“ryland.”
“what?”
“you’re about to kiss me purely for research purposes.”
“…that’s a pretty serious accusation.”
you barely finish laughing before he rolls onto one elbow and leans over you, his hand finds your waist automatically, warm from the sun. his thumb strokes absent-mindedly through the fabric of your swimsuit, “i’m simply remaining open-minded.”
“of course you are.”
he smiles that small, sheepish smile that always means he’s about to be just a little bit ridiculous. then he kisses you, the sea murmurs behind you, a breeze lifting a few strands of your hair across his cheek. he smiles into the kiss before pulling back just enough to think.
“…citrus.”
you bite your lip to stop yourself giggling, “good start.”
“…lime.”
“close.”
“…lemon.”
you nod encouragingly and he tilts his head. “…there’s… something sweet.” he adds. he’s genuinely concentrating now, you can practically see the cogs turning. then, with complete seriousness, he kisses you again, just slightly longer this time. you laugh against his lips. “ryland.”
“hmm?”
“are you collecting more data?”
“…the sample size was too small.”
you snort, “i knew it.”
he finally pulls away, looking suspiciously pleased with himself. “…okay.”
you fold your arms dramatically, “give me your professional opinion then.” ryland pretends to deliberate. “i think…” his fingers lace lazily through yours, still unwilling to let go, “…it’s got lemon.”
“oh, yeah?”
“…possibly vanilla?”
“no.”
“…honey?”
“no.”
“…”
“…”
“…i’m going to need another kiss.” you laugh so hard your sunglasses nearly fall off. “you are unbelievable.”
“i take my work very seriously.”
“you’re not working!”
he smiles at you, “…i’m not?”
“no.”
he glances around at the waves, the bright blue sky, the towel beneath you, then back at you. his expression softens into something so hopelessly fond it almost steals the breath from your lungs. “…right.” his thumb brushes gently across your cheek. “…i forgot.”
“forgot what?”
“that i’m allowed to just…” he trails with a small smile, “…be your boyfriend today.”
your heart immediately melts, you reach up, running your fingers through the wind-tousled hair falling over his forehead, “you’ve always been allowed.” he leans into your hand without even thinking, “yeah, …i like this job better.”
“better than teaching?” you smile. he looks at you for a second, then kisses you one last time, all soft and sweet, and when he pulls away, he grins. “…definitely.”
“and the lip gloss?”
he squints thoughtfully, as though delivering the conclusion to years of groundbreaking research, “…it’s nice.”
“just nice?”
he shrugs, “…honestly…” his arm slips around your shoulders as he settles beside you again, pulling you against his side until your head rests comfortably on his shoulder. “…i don’t think it’s the lip gloss.”
you look up, “no?” he presses a kiss against the top of your head this time. “…i think i just really like kissing you.” you let out the most dramatic sigh imaginable, “what happened to the very objective scientific review?”
“unfortunately,” he says, smiling into your hair, “the scientist is off today.”
“and who’s here instead?”
he doesn’t even hesitate, “…your very clingy boyfriend.” you laugh, threading your fingers through his as another wave curls lazily onto the shore. he spends the rest of the afternoon exactly where he wants to be. “but i do think that’s a fizzy lemon flavour, like a cocktail.” he finally concludes.
a while later, half asleep in the sun, with your hand in his, stealing the occasional kiss that he absolutely insists has nothing to do with the lemontini lip gloss anymore, even if he does keep requesting “just one more” every now and then, purely in the interests of thorough research.
JELLYBEAN
your bedroom has somehow descended into complete chaos.
there’s a dress draped across the bed, another hanging over the wardrobe door because you couldn’t decide between them. one of your earrings has mysteriously disappeared, ryland’s blazer is folded over the desk chair, and his tie is hanging around his neck in a knot that can only be described as… creative.
you catch sight of him in the mirror, he’s frowning down at himself with complete concentration, tongue pressed lightly against the inside of his cheek as he attempts to fix it.
you watch for another five seconds before giving in, “baby.” he looks up, “…yeah?”
“what exactly are you doing?”
“…trying.”
“i can see that.”
he glances down at the tie again, “…it’s not going particularly well.” you walk over, gently batting his hands away, “come here.” without a word, he lets you take over. your fingers loosen the knot before starting again, smoothing the fabric flat against his shirt. ryland watches you work quietly, he’s close enough now that he can smell your perfume. you finish the knot before flattening his collar with both hands.
“there.” you give his chest two little pats, “you’re so handsome, baby.” his ears immediately begin turning pink, he “…thank you.” nash fully laughs. you smile to yourself before wandering back over to your dressing table, “don’t move. i’m nearly ready.”
“okay.”
he doesn’t really have anywhere else to be, instead, he watches your reflection in the mirror while you finish getting ready. a little mascara, a quick brush through your hair, earrings. then your hand reaches for a tiny tube sitting beside your jewellery tray.
ryland tilts his head, eyes visibly a little brighter
“a new one!”
“mhm.”
you twist the cap off, then carefully glide the gloss over your lips before pressing them together. the finish catches the light just enough to show its glittery sparkle. you cap it again before looking at him through the mirror.
“well?”
ryland forgets to answer, he’s just… looking at you. you turn around to face him. “what?”
“…sorry. you look…” he swallows thickly, “really beautiful.” your smile softens. “thank you, baby.” you step closer, smoothing the lapels of his blazer where they’ve folded awkwardly. “you clean up pretty nicely yourself.”
“that’s mostly your doing.”
“true.” you straighten the collar one last time before brushing an invisible speck of lint from his shoulder. “there.”
ryland, doesn’t move, he’s still looking at you.
“…what?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “…nothing.” he says, even thought it’s clearly something.
“ryland.”
“…i was just thinking.”
“about my lipgloss?”
“jeez. i dont know how to be subtle, do i?”
“no,” you laugh, “come here then.”
he doesn’t need telling twice. one hand settles carefully at your waist, the other lightly against your cheek before he leans down and kisses you. its a lot more passionate than his other “taste test” kisses.
the first touch of your lips is soft and sweet with the taste of candy gloss. his mouth moved against yours slowly at first, then he adjusted, the pressure gentling, his lips parting just slightly to deepen it.
he loved the taste on your lips, artificial sugar and something faintly fruity. one hand stayed curled around your waist while the other rose again to cradle the back of your head. his hand gripped on your waist just a little harder, and you whimper against his lips.
the tiny whimper that escaped you sent a ripple through ryland’s chest. the kiss deepened instinctively, hungry but still just gentle enough. his lips moved against yours with growing confidence now, a slow rhythm building between you.
his hand slid up your back toying with the fabric of your dress while the other stayed on your head, finger carding through your hair.
ryland tilted his head slightly to better fit his lips on yours, your noses brushing together briefly before he dove back into another kiss… and another… soft presses turning warmer by the second.
your hands are against his chest as you back him up against your vanity’s chair, making him sit down. you’re immediately on his lap, straddling him. the subtle grind of your hips against his made ryland’s breath stutter. his hands tensed, fingers pressing gently into your back and shoulders.
a low sound escaped him, warm and thick with desire. he didn’t stop kissing you; if anything, he kissed you deeper now, more urgently.
his lips parted yours just slightly as his tongue brushed against yours. ryland’s pulse hammered against his ribs, each beat syncing with the quiet rhythm of your kiss. he could feel every curve of you pressed to him, the softness where your thighs met his hips, and it made his skin prickle.
he hands slid lower now, grabbing and gripping, exploring with reverence. one traced up along your spine while the other cupped gently at your waist.
ryland could himself getting hard, all the blood is suddenly rushing down to his groin.
he broke the kiss just long enough to breathe in a shaky inhale and then leaned in again immediately, like he couldn’t stand not touching you for even a second longer.
but he had to stop touching you. he’d been promising you date night for so long, he didn’t want to get to excited and ruin things. when he pulled away, he pretends to do so thoughtfully.
“..uhm.. candy, or something..” he mutters, cheeks bright red. you quietly laugh at his flustered state, “oh, yeah?” you ask, gently caressing his jawline. ryland’s hips involuntarily push up against yours, he groans a little. “something like strawberry or cherry.” he mumbles, head now thrown back.
“good job, baby.” you coo, and you immediately can feel his cock twitch in his pants under your hips.
“…i’m not sure what flavour though.” you raise an eyebrow, “that’s a shame.”
“i might need another sample.” he says, trying to lean up and kiss you again, but you press your finger against his lips. “you’re liking this a little too much, dr. grace.”
ryland laughs, cheeks reddening again, then he nods with complete sincerity. “…it’s very nice.”
“the lip gloss?”
his eyes meet yours from above his crooked glasses, “…kissing you.” he answers, and your heart immediately melts. how could you ever resist him?
“…you’re cute.”
“thanks.” he says, then gestures vaguely towards you. “…one more?” you laugh, “ryland grace.”
“please?”
“you’re unbelievable.”
“…i know.”
you shake your head, smiling despite yourself, “go on then.” ryland gives you that lazy smile that makes your heart fall down between your legs.
another kiss, this one makes you smile so much you can barely kiss him back. when he pulls away, he doesn’t go very far, your foreheads rest together. he’s still smiling.
“…that one was my favourite.”
“you said that about all my lipglosses.”
“…did i?”
“yes.”
“…”
“…i think this one’s better.”
“because?”
he looks adorably caught, “…i don’t know.” he laughs.
“liar.”
“…maybe because you smiled.” you stare at him for a second. “…oh.” he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking very interested in the floor. “…i like it when you smile while i’m kissing you.” your expression softens completely. you reach up, smoothing a lock of hair away from his forehead. he glances at the clock on your bedside table, his smile slowly disappears. “oh no.” you follow his gaze, then immediately start laughing because you knew this would happen. “ryland..”
“we were supposed to leave…” he checks the time again. “…twelve minutes ago.” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “and whose fault is that?”
he looks between you and the little tube of jellybean lip gloss still sitting open on your dressing table. “…the jellybeans’.” you laugh even harder, “that is the least scientific conclusion you’ve ever reached.”
he slips his fingers through yours as you head for the bedroom door. “i still think further testing would strengthen the data.” you glance up at him. “after dinner.” his entire face lights up, “amazing plan.” he smiles to himself all the way to the car. because somewhere between tying his tie and walking out the front door, he’d completely forgotten about the date.
all he could think about was how lucky he was that the prettiest girl he’d ever met let him kiss her as many times as she did.
absolute cinema 🙌🏻
❤️💙💛GRACEFUL💛💙❤️
⭐[my social media links]
Hi sorry for disappearing
this is like... perfect omg I'm gonna cry
Wait this is actually so fun and silly!! You’re literally amazing 🥹 I think a “Are you going to kiss me, or are you just going to stand there?” Prompt would be super cute with Ryland Grace 🫡
Literally kicking my feet and giggling rn fr. Also why did i put a cap of 500 words on this we all know i cant write stuff that SHORT. - Em.
☆Title: The Third Date Hypothesis. ☆Pairing: Ryland Grace x Reader. ( Gender Neutral. ) ☆Rating: K. ( FLUFF GALORE, first kiss scenario. ) ☆Words: 2.1K. ☆Summary: You're out on your third date with Ryland Grace who is, let's face it, a bit of a nervous wreck. ☆Ryland Grace Masterlist☆
“I’m just saying,” Ryland began, pushing his glasses up his nose while absentmindedly reorganizing the little sugar packets into neat little rows, the two of you tucked cozily in a booth at Sally’s Diner. “There’s like… An observational pattern in human behavior around the third date. Not that-” He held his hand up almost defensively, “I’m expecting anything. Obviously, I’m just… aware of the data.” You smiled into the cup of evening coffee you ordered, watching the cute blonde try very hard to sound casual and failing just as hard. “Of course you are, who wouldn’t be?”
Dinner had stretched longer than either of you planned. But, that was often the case with Ryland Grace. One minute, you’re talking about your day and the next, the scientist in him is explaining something wildly specific with equally exuberant hand gestures, getting sidetracked, correcting himself a few times and somehow, no matter what, always circling back to you like he realized you were the most important thing. It was a quarter past nine, Ryland noted as he spared a cursory glance at his red watch, the two of you outside the small diner, neon sign behind you flickering dimly as the sky opened its doors without a warning and a torrential downpour overtook the overcast night. “Oh geez.” Ryland muttered, immediately stepping back and pulling your arm, and subsequently your entire body with him under the tiny overhang that did absolutely nothing to keep the rain off. “I… shoulda checked the weather before I asked if you wanted to walk here.” There was a sheepish smile against his young features as you looked up at your date. “Okay, we should probably strategize.” “You mean run?” You suggested with a laugh, already feeling the first cold drops soaking through your shirt. “That would be the most efficient thing - I - Yes. Let’s run.” He glanced at the downpour, then back at you. “On three?”
There’s no one or two.
“Three!” You laughed loudly, grabbing his large hand in your own and tugging him out into the rain, setting the pace at a mild sprint down the San Fran street. Cold water hit the two of you instantly, soaking through your clothes, shoes splashing through shallow puddles as you ran side by side down the block, Ryland letting out a startled laugh, half surprise and half pure exhilaration as he nearly slipped, catching himself at the last second before he took you down him. “This was a mistake!” He called over the rain and sound of minor traffic from the street. “This was your idea!” You shot back with a cackle. “Hey, technically it was a joint decision!”
By the time you stop, half way down the block and beneath the awning of a closed coffee shop, streetlight flickering against your faces, you’re both breathless and completely drenched. Hair was clinging to your face, water dripping from your chin and your cardigan heavy with water. Ryland--- you looked up at him and stifled a giggle.
Ryland looked just as bad, his shirt plastered to his shoulders, his hair flattened and glasses speckled with rogue rain droplets. You watched as he pulled them off, squinting his pretty blue eyes as he wiped the lenses with the edge of his shirt which ultimately only smeared the water and made it worse.
Ryland nodded, putting them back on his face. “Great,” He gestured to the frames, “Fantastic! Now I’m wet and visually impaired.” The giggle in your throat bursted out into a laugh, your head throwing back as Ryland stared at you before a laugh bubbled to the surface of his lips and he joined you in a good solid minute of self-deprecating fits of giggles. In the mixture of the blissful moment, the pink against your cheeks and the more flushed red against his, you stepped closer, the sound of your entwining laughs easy and unguarded as you teased softly.
“Rough night for you, huh?” “No, not at all.” Ryland said quickly, shaking his head and sending a few stray droplets flying, one of them landing on your face. Without even thinking, he was even quicker to raise his hand and wipe it from your cheek, his smooth thumb lingering. It was hard to ignore the way you tilted your head towards the minor affection, the blonde going into overdrive at the almost imperceptible motion.
“This is… This is still good. This is a good date. Third date. Still statistically promising.” He paused, lips parted in anticipation for his mind to process something stupid to say. “Not that I’m assigning expectations! Just observing trends.”
“Ryland?” “Yeah?” His voice was quiet but you could still feel the puff of heat from it against your face. “You’re uh… Rambling again.” “Yeah, I’m aware.”
He felt the heat hit against his ribcage when you caught his eyes. Even like this, soaked, flustered, glasses very crooked on his face, he was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world and everything else has faded into background noise. It was only amplified as he went to caress your face a bit more confidently, no longer satisfied with just his thumb getting all the action. “You’ve been doing that all night, you know.” “Doing what?” “Avoiding what your statistic is talking about.” You stated matter-of-factly.
Ryland blinked, curling his fingers around your ear for a moment as he subtly, not really but he was trying, tucked a piece of your wet hair behind your ear. “I--- Have not.”
Oh yeah… That’s convincing.
“Have too.” The hesitance is evident as his shoulders lifted before he exhaled, some tension slipping out of him as his cheeks puffed out. “Okay. Maybe a little.” The rain filled the empty space between you, drumming a steady beat against the pavement, against the metal of the awning you were tucked under and against the unspoken feelings that were drifting from him to you and you to him. You can both hear a car passing somewhere down the street, tires hissing against the wet asphalt, but it feels too far away
“I just…” Ryland shuffled a bit, raising his other hand to rub the back of his neck, gaze dropping to look at his Parchment Converse briefly before finding yours again. “I don’t want to mess this up. I… Really like you and this has been,” The gesture between you was a little helpless as he huffed a shy chuckle out. “This has been really good, and I know there’s like a ‘third date moment’ expectation, and I didn't want to just assume you were on the same page, so I just---” Your expression softened and stepped even closer, close enough that Ryland froze immediately, like he was afraid even breathing wrong might ruin the moment. “Ryland.” “Yeah…?” You were looking at his mouth as he formed that simple word. “Are you going to kiss me…” You started, rain dripping from your lashes as you peered up at him, voice a quiet draw and inviting for all of his senses. “Or are you just going to stand there, holding the side of my face like I’m a specimen in a jar?”
Ryland--- completely short-circuits at that. First, the implication of your words, tied along with your attempt at his dry and scientific based humor. He wanted to react properly, but his mouth was ahead of the game, “I- What--- No, I wasn’t…” He swallowed hard. “I mean, I was thinking about it, but not in a… Listen, I am not a presumptuous man! I was laying down the hypothetical framework---” His eyes widened as you drew in, the movement urging the hand at the side of your face to almost cascade into your damp hair. For a second, Ryland looked down at you. Really looked. Admiring the rain tracing lines down your face, his stare flicking to your lips and back to your eyes again like he was asking permission despite being given it before. He wanted to make sure.
“Y-you want me to kiss you?” He whispered, a sudden lick of cold along his spine mixing deliciously with the heat radiating from you and how close you were to him. You nodded slowly but surely. “I… I would really like it if you did.”
That’s all the confirmation Ryland needs as he brought his face closer and dropped his mouth - hopefully - where yours was. It was awkward at first, as was any first kiss as you let one of your hands reach up and settle on his side, tucking your fingers into the wet fabric. His hand hesitated in your hair before settling a bit more confidently. Like he was remembering what it felt like to kiss and mimicked your other motion, letting his other hand rest on your waist, closer to your hipbone.
He pulled back too soon, much to your disappointment but that was short lived as Ryland was leaning in again with a hopeful correction to make it more passionate, which did wonders as his lips landed with more precision and yours were allowed to follow suit and kiss back. Rain soaked through everything, now cooling against your skin but the moment still feels warm in a way that had nothing to do with the weather by the Bay.
Ryland pulled away with a small, almost disbelieving laugh, drawing his hand forward to brush another damp strand of your hair away from your lips that had gotten in his way. You felt his fingers linger, light against the plush nature of your bottom lip.
“Hi…” He said softly, like he was staring this all over from the first date. There was no reserve on your end as you lightly pressed a kiss to his fingers. “Hi…”
Something about your action shifts his expression. The nervousness doesn’t disappear completely and if Ryland was being completely and utterly honest with himself, it probably never will, but it melts a bit, steadied into something more certain and reciprocal.
Ryland leaned in again, slower this time and captured your lips carefully. The second kiss of the night was less hesitant and deeper in the way that it felt intentional, all things figured out, muscle memory coming to the surface. Not perfectly, but enough to instill Ryland that… He wanted this. He wanted you.
And when you two break for that pesky thing known as air, you don’t drift far from one another as Ryland rested his cold forehead against yours. You can feel the heat of his breath along your cheeks as he muttered in a warm and vulnerable way that you hadn’t heard before, “I really, really like you.”
Your heart did a quick jolt and you swore that you were going to melt straight into the ground below and become a puddle of your own if it wasn’t for Ryland’s hands keeping you steady and secure. You met his eyes and hoped your gratitude was extended in your gaze. “I really like you too, Ryland.”
And for once, Ryland took the words at face value. For once, he didn't try to deflect it. Didn't turn it into a joke or a statistic or a carefully worded observation. He just let it be as a smile perked along his face, dropping his hand so he could shyly slip it into yours, fingers lancing together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Do you uh… Want to keep walking?” Ryland asked softly, glancing down the rain-soaked street before gazing back at you, a flicker of something more now resting in his sights. “Or, we could find somewhere dry. Standing in the rain for much longer is probably a bad idea, but hey…” He shrugged, “I’m open to uh… whatever you want.”
“Let’s walk.” “Yeah?” He said, a little more excited as you squeezed his hand. “My apartment is uhh---” He drawled, realizing how that must have sounded as another third date statistic slipped into his mind. “Down the street.” “Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow. Ryland watched the cogs turn in your brain as you flipped through what the implications of accepting that invitation was. “I… guess we can go there and dry off, huh?” He smiled, giving you a small nod. “We can run, if you want.” “On the count of three?” The grin on your face was cheeky. “I’ll lead the way.” It was his turn to squeeze your hand. “One, two---” You began. “Three!” Ryland went first, dragging you behind him back into the downpour, your laughter spilling out as your fingers tightened around his, the rain blurring everything except the warmth of his hand and the way he kept glancing back at you like letting go wasn’t an option anymore.
Taglist: @strigiform-titan @whats-my-hyperfixation @negativefoursanity @everythingismadeofchaos @gnomebutch @t0nystank @greenlalianime @my-cat-can-slay-dragons @gardenavenve @whore-msc @goslingcore @rivercattail @ambertiger5 @starsbelongtotheworld @emmyishere77 @wayward-avenging @rocktthehouse @unabashednightmarepizza @lowbudgetdoll @lastminutescience @anixszci @lov3lanuage @newagecassandra @allthelittlethingsssss @sl13-ce @nicassie @emblunt46 @cemeterystardust @ckq-fics @writingforrhys @brunomarzbootylicker @icomewithpeace @theemeraldcorporalnik @kusogeki@starsbelongtotheworld@s4turn3st@astroangel-3000 @electro-elemena@poopoopeepeesupreme@bigsloppycrush@exactlyelectronicstudent @sayadinaa @lorraine-ackerman @sixtiessongs @introvertathome @petersluvbug@moon-trash1507 @romantics-and-eternity @faelvz@reredaydreams @ummilovesidneycrosby87
World Book Day!
Eeee more Ryland for you!! Had this idea in my head since seeing someone on tiktok dressing up as the princess and the pea!
Warnings: teacher!reader, female reader, “Miss” is used, fluff fluff fluff, gets a little steamy at the end but I can’t help it!!
——————————————————-
One of your favourite days of the school year. World Book Day. Kids got to dress up as their favourite book character and do a little reading on why. Teachers got to participate this year, which was extra fun.
You’d been a middle school English teacher for about a year now, settling in down the hall from Mrs Martha James and Mr Scott Adams, who were both lovely. It was by chance that you bumped into Dr Ryland Grace. During your first week, Noah’s dad came in with his lunchbox, interrupting your little tea break in the staff room. “I’m so sorry, Miss (L/n), we were late to school as it is”, he said.
You gave him a reassuring smile and took it off him, “No problem, I’ll go give it to him now” Noah’s dad nodded and thanked you before walking back down the hallway and out past the office. You sighed to yourself. “Right, Noah, where are you?”
After searching through all your schedules and calendars, physical ones and the online ones, you couldn’t find Noah’s schedule anywhere. Hence, you poked your head into Mrs James' classes, “hi, sorry”, you said, ducking as you walked in. The kids were doing some silent reading, but all looked up at you with curious eyes. You leaned over Mrs James' desk “You don’t happen to know where Noah S. might be right now? Lunchbox delivery”
Mrs James was newly pregnant. You’d actually become good friends in the week you’d been here. She was about your age, but had a high school sweetheart, which was why she was married. She typed away on her laptop and then turned it to show you the screen. “He should be with Dr Grace. Do you know where his classroom is?” She pointed at the screen showing you. This new system confused you; your old school used something else entirely. You thought for a moment, Dr Grace? You’ve never come across him, not even in the staff room. Mrs James stood, “Kids”, she clapped. “Five more minutes of reading and then we can continue, Miss Taylor, watch them for me”, she nodded to her teaching assistant, who winked back. “Come”, she smiled.
You followed Mrs James down a few halls while she told you about Dr Grace, he’d been here a while, turns up early on a bike and leaves late, doesn’t really come to the staff room unless he’s out of sugar for his coffee, apparently the teachers think he’s either married or single, single because no ring but this is the behaviour of a married male teacher. But she gushed about him, “Oh, the kids love him! And apparently some of the ta’s, but I don’t see it? Maybe because I’m married”, she trailed off.
In the science wing, she stopped and pointed, “Second door on the left” She smiled and turned, heels clicking down the hallway. You stood still; it wasn’t like you to be nervous, but you could hear a male voice faintly through the walls. You looked over Noah’s lunchbox, stickers of Transformers littered on it. You took a deep breath and drifted towards the door; two knocks, and you opened it.
Some kids perked up, “Miss (L/n)!” They whispered. You shhh’ed them. Dr Grace was standing at the front of the class, showing a diagram of some plant cells, which was covered in projector lights, not doing you much justice.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt, Dr Grace. I have Noah’s lunchbox; his father brought it in” You smiled towards Noah, a sweet kid; he jumped up.
“Wait!”
A small green sack flew towards Noah, and he caught it surprisingly well. Dr Grace moved out from the projector lights, giving you a proper look at him. Oh, you see what these teaching assistants are on about. Dirty blonde, short stubble, glasses hanging from his ear, resting on his chin and beautiful blue eyes. He was wearing a grey suit, a duck egg blue shirt, and a red tie. He was leaning back on a table, looking right back at you.
“Noah, roughly how long does it take for the sun's light to reach Earth?”
“8 hours?” The kid said.
Dr Grace's head dropped. He chuckled, “No, toss it back, get your lunchbox” Noah tossed the sack back and left his chair with a squeak. He thanked you for his lunch box.
“Miss (L/n)”
You brought your attention back to Dr Grace, who was motioning to him, throwing you the sack. You opened your hands, and he gently tossed it to you. The kids were watching eagerly.
“Which Apollo moon mission was the first to carry a lunar rover?”
He smiled so endearingly. It’s been years since even the thought of being attracted to someone crossed your mind. You were so focused on school and teaching. Well, if you’re going to do this, may as well try to impress him. You secretly hope he is actually single and not secretly married.
“Uh, Apollo 15”, tossing back the sack, it hit in the square in the chest with an ‘oof’. With that, you winked at him and quickly waltzed out the door.
He stood there for a while, smiling to himself. He hadn’t met the new teacher, but he heard of her. Mrs James caught him in the hallway once when he was opening his classroom “Oh, Dr Grace, you really must say hello, she’s such a pretty thing” She was right.
“Wow, Miss (L/n) is smart”, whispered the kids.
Which brings you to now. You’re sitting in your car outside your apartment, double-checking that it is World Book Day. The weather is dreadful, you’ve never seen rain like this, it’s almost hailing. Your book, tucked neatly in your tote bag, is The Princess and the Pea. Dr Grace had kindly lent you his green sack as the pea. You are dressed in blue check pyjama pants, a pink princess dress with milkmaid sleeves and a tiara. You would’ve worn the dress on its own, but it’s a school. And what’s more fun than wearing pyjamas?
Oh, Dr Grace. He’s going to be soaking. You tap your steering wheel thoughtfully. You fish your phone out of your tote bag and find his contact. “Dr Grace 🧪”, he’d labelled himself as. The only message history was general questions about school days off and teachers' meetings.
“Fuck it”
You pressed call. You sat, listening to the pounding rain, as your phone rang. You wondered if this was a message from a higher-up. Don’t go to school as a princess, no other teachers will be dressed up! It whispered.
“Uh, hello?” A voice came through the phone, you jumped, and I put it to your ear.
“Oh, Dr Grace! It’s (Y/n) I was just wonde-“
“Ryland”, he said.
“I’m sorry?” God had you offended him? Was calling him like this a bit unprofessional? Did you scare him off?
“I asked you to call me Ryland, and you still call me Dr Grace”, he mused.
“Right, sorry.” You tapped your foot on the accelerator pedal of your car, hearing her hum. “Look, it’s pouring down, and I’m just down the road from you. I was wondering if you wanted me to pick you up for work?” It was bold for sure.
“No, no! I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way,” he said.
Slightly deflated, you thought for a second. “Can I bribe you with coffee?”
“Deal.” He said quickly. You giggled, telling him you’d be there in 5.
Pulling up on what you think is the right road, you set your car into park and start moving your tote bag into the back seat. It was still hammering it down. Fuck. You just realised what you’d done. You were dressed as a princess, with a pea. See, when you asked Ryland for the green sack, you didn’t specify what for. You groaned and hit your forehead on the wheel. He’s so going to laugh at you.
The car door opening made you jump. And in slid Dr Grace. Who was dressed differently? He put his book bag in the footwell of your car, and you both stared at each other. He was wearing smart olive-green pants, a pale green shirt, a knitted olive jumper, and a green headband with eyes on it.
“You’re a princess?” He chuckled.
You blushed deeply and rolled your eyes. “Well, it’s better than… whatever you are!” You laughed.
He scoffed and pretended to look offended. “I’ll have you know I am a frog!”
You both laughed. “From what book?”
You watched as he reached into the footwell, rummaging through his bag for his book. He pulled it out and handed it to you. It was a book version of Disney’s The Princess and the Frog. “See, I am the frog”, he said, pointing to it.
You blushed even deeper now, peering up at him through your eyelashes. He knotted his eyebrows together in confusion, and then you watched, seeing the cogs in his brain turning. A deep flush settled on his cheeks, and you think he got it.
You were the princess. And he is the frog.
The turnout at school was better than you expected. Kids in comic book character outfits, and most teachers were dressed up this year. Before the kids settled in, you rushed in to see Mrs James. She was dressed as a tiger, a very pregnant one. Her favourite book was The Tiger That Came To Tea.
“You set me up!” You whisper-yell. She was sitting at her desk, nibbling on some toast. She was nearly crying from laughing so much.
“You’ve seen him then”, she said once calmed down, wiping her eyes.
“Seen him! Martha, I gave him a ride to school!” She belted out laughing, and now you were holding your head in your hands.
She rubbed her belly as she took in some breaths to help her stop laughing. “Listen, it’s time you did something about those longing looks”, you tutted and rolled your eyes. “I’ve seen it! He never used to come to the staff room, but now there he is! Cuddled up next to you,” She wasn’t lying.
You two often shared a sandwich or some toast during morning break, and you felt comfortable with him. He was always close, knees touching or shoulders touching. You’d always told yourself it was because the staff room was small, he didn’t have anywhere else to sit! But then he started bringing you coffee, in front of everyone, asking how many sugars, making it right in the staff room in your favourite mug, and bringing it to you with a soft smile.
The rest of the day went quickly. Kids usually can’t settle on a day like this, so teachers do small, fun tasks instead of actual work. The bell rang for the end of the day, and the room turned into a tornado of young fairies and superheroes running out the door.
“Knock knock.” Ryland was leaning in the doorway of your classroom. Halfway through the day, you realised that since picking him up, he didn’t have his bike to get home. So you could only offer to take him home.
“Ribbit”, you playfully said back. You slung your tote bag over your shoulder and faced him. He looked different. There was a look in his eye. Mischievous. More sure of himself, almost.
The ride back was filled with general work talk, how Mrs James was getting along with her pregnancy, what kids are causing you grief, etc. The rain had cleared up, but because it was winter, the sun was slowly setting.
“Listen about today”, Ryland started. Oh no, he was going to have this dreadful talk with you about how you’ve gone too far and embarrassed him, he’s married, of course, and you shouldn’t have overstepped that boundary-
“I’m sorry, " you cut him off. Focusing on parking. After you parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt and looked at him. “I understand today may have crossed a professional boundary, I may have voiced a silly schoolgirl crush to Mrs James about you and totally embarrassed myself-“
“No, (Y/n)-”
“Mrs James played along and maybe pushed too far-“
“(Y/n) stop.” He took your hands in his, causing you to fall silent. You met his eyes, and he looked bashful. “I may have asked Mrs James to set this up.” Your jaw dropped, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “How could I not, you’re the prettiest woman I’ve ever met, and since working with you I’ve just….come to like you a lot more than friends.”
He whispered the last part. You were blushing deeply. This man, whom nearly every teacher’s assistant has had a crush on, has gravitated towards you. “Well”, you started. “I may or may not have a little crush on you” you blushed and looked away.
He chuckled. “Well, that’s good to know.” He squeezed your hand.
You both sat there a while. Holding hands and sharing looks. There was a slight patter of rain now, the sunset turning the sky completely orange, casting a golden light onto Ryland's face. “Can I ask you something?” He spoke.
You nodded. “Since I’m a frog”, he sat up now, pointing to himself. “And you’re a princess”, you nodded again. “I was wondering if you would be so kind as to turn me into a prince?”
You blinked. A prince? You studied his face to get any clues as to what he was talking about, and it was only when a deep flush settled on his face that it clicked. Of course. His book. In The Princess and the Frog, she has to kiss him for him to become a prince.
You leaned in towards him, your hand freeing from him and reaching towards his knitted jumper. Ryland watched with his mouth slightly open as your fingers curled around his jumper and pulled him closer.
Your lips ghosted his, and then you planted a soft kiss. It started softly at first. A small peck. Your eyes fluttered closed when you felt his hand settle on your jaw, deepening the kiss. Your hand reached up and settled on the back of his neck, feeling his soft hair. You tested the waters by opening your mouth a bit more, letting his tongue in. It was slow and sloppy. He made a noise, you barely caught it, and he pulled you away.
He was a vision. His eyes were blown, deep pink settled in his cheeks, and your lipstick smudged all around his mouth. His forearm was awkwardly pressed into his lap, and you realise what the noise was about. “I need to take you on a date.” He spoke. “I can’t be doing that before I date you, " he looked out the window now, shaking his head and laughing.
You giggled and started using your thumb to wipe off the lipstick around his face “Doing what?”
“You got me a bit excited there.” His voice was now gravely.
Your heart fluttered. You didn’t dare meet his eyes; you knew exactly what he meant. It was strange hearing it from him. This charming gentleman, who flirted with you through corny science jokes, had a hard-on. And you liked it. More than you expect. He leaned over and kissed your cheek. “Let me take you on a date. A proper one”
“Okay, handsome, when?” You met his blue orbs with a smile. And it was his turn to blush now.
“I’ll FaceTime you later, and we can set a date?” It was more of a question; he was rummaging around in the footwell now, grabbing his books and bag. You nodded, feeling excited but slightly sad he was going.
He stepped out of the car, and you watched him wave as he walked up the steps to his apartment. You sat there with your foot on the brake, feeling like a little girl again. Before you could pull off, you saw a blur of green running around the back of the car. Ryland was standing at your window, asking you to roll it down.
You slid down the window and spoke, “What are you do-“
Before you could finish, he cupped your face with his hands and brought his lips to yours. Sparkles flew as he sloppily kissed you, hands running through your hair. You savoured him as if you couldn’t get enough.
He broke off the kiss and grinned, “Sorry, princess, I had to! I’ll phone you later for the date!” He left you nearly bright purple in the car seat. Giggling as he ran up his apartment stairs. Ryland Grace was taking you on a date. Thank you, Mrs James!!
my eyes have been blessed 🙏🏻
grace have mate, question? (ryland grace x fem!reader)
summary: rocky and grace talk about the mates they left behind. grace finally gets around to making a video log for her wc: 5.1k cw: angst! (sorry) a/n: had to make a whole new account so I could post this! I looooove PHM and have been dying to write some fics for it! there are elements from both the book and movie here, so spoilers for both, and I rearrange the original scene a little to fit the story a little better! enjoy :D
“What about you, Rock? What do you miss most about home?”
If someone would’ve told Doctor Ryland Grace, ex-molecular biologist turned middle school teacher, that he would one day be leading the charge on an intergalactic suicide mission to save the human race, he would’ve thought they were crazy.
The sun wasn’t due to die in several billion years. There would be no feasible reason why it would suddenly start dimming during his lifetime that would warrant for such a mission.
He would’ve turned tail and ran if they had then told him that on said mission, he would be bunking with a spider-looking rock alien who was having the same sun-destroying dilemma in his own galaxy. Would’ve keeled over dead if he knew he’d be having deep, sometimes philosophical discussions with this alien.
But he was.
That was exactly what his life had turned out to be.
As odd and terrifying as it initially was, Ryland was beyond grateful to have found Rocky. With the death of his two initial crewmates, he had not been looking forward to spending the rest of his days alone. Luckily, Rocky quickly filled that emptiness and they became quick companions amongst the chaos. As mildly annoying as it was to have Rocky move all of his things into the Hail Mary, take up much of the limited space and knock all of his precious, expensive science equipment over as he moved around in his xenonite ball, Ryland loved the guy.
As the Hail Mary cruised through the Tau Ceti system, they had a lot of time to talk. Both astronauts naturally had a lot of questions about the other so they used the time to describe their biologies, cultures and home worlds.
At the current moment, the two were relaxed in the LED room part of the ship, Ryland leaning back against Rocky’s geometric ball as they looked out over the screens that were depicting a beach. Rocky had his texture monitor pointing towards the screens so he could see it too.
Ryland couldn’t see the alien, as he had his back to him, but he could hear the silent pause after he’d asked his question. The gentle scraping of rock had him wondering if Rocky was lightly running his front claws against each other like he usually did when he was feeling a negative emotion.
The soft tune of his voice transferred over to the microphones in the crudely duct taped computer contraption he’d invented so they could communicate, translating the notes into a response Ryland could understand. His words were quieter, a little sad.
“My mate.”
Ryland shot to sit upright, turning to look at his companion. Indeed, Rocky was running his claws against each other, brushing a spot on one of his arms that had a little turquoise gem embedded into the stone.
“You have a mate?!”
This was a subject they had yet to breach in their many talks; the people they’d left behind. While he figured it would probably come up eventually, it was a painful topic. Their families, their friends. His students, his-
Ryland never brought it up. It hurt too much to think about.
Rocky tilted his carapace to the side like Ryland’s shock at the question was surprising. “Yes.”
“Huh. That’s awesome. How long have you been together?”
“186.3 years.”
Woah. “Oh wow, that’s a long time.”
Rocky contemplated Rylands words for some time, continuing to lightly brush over that turquoise gem on his arm. He seemed to deflate. “It not enough.”
Well damn, if that wasn’t enough to tug on Ryland’s heartstrings. Even through the slightly robotic tone of the translator, the genuine emotion Rocky expressed was clear. Rocky cared for his mate very much and had been away from them for some time. Longer than Ryland had been alive. He couldn’t fathom how he’d done it.
“Tell me about them, Rock.”
That had him trilling. Rocky told all sorts of stories about his mate, who had a beautiful and elaborate name Ryland couldn’t even begin to pronounce, but Rocky talked about his mate like they’d put the stars in the sky. Ryland listened intently, learning about their story and interesting tidbits about Eridian culture when it came to choosing someone to spend their long lives with.
He wasn’t sure how long they talked, but by the end Ryland felt like he knew about Rocky’s mate more than Rocky himself. Then, Rocky did what Rocky does and began pressing Ryland with his own question.
“Grace have mate, question?” Rocky’s voice perked up in interest, as it always did when he asked about the scientific mystery to him that was earth.
It was Ryland’s turn to be silent- hesitant to answer.
The gold band around his ring finger felt heavy.
After several seconds, he nodded. “Yeah. I did- er, I do.”
Rocky’s carapace raised even more, an indication that he was very excited at what he’d just learned. “Grace has mate! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”
Ryland couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. “Well… we worked together. Before I became a teacher. When I was a scientist. That’s how we met.” He smiled at the memory. How he’d completely embarrassed himself when he’d met her.
At the time, he hadn’t known what she did for work- didn’t know that she was a well known (to everyone except him, apparently) scientist in her field, a Doctor in the same regard as him in every way. His equal, if not even better.
But no, he didn’t know her and had been startled when he’d come into the lab he regularly worked at and found her conducting some experiment with his equipment (it wasn’t his, it was the labs, but it was his regular spot he had an unsaid claim over. Had she ruined the experiment he had been painfully conducting for months??).
‘Excuse me, sorry, students aren’t allowed in this lab.’ He’d said. He wasn’t usually so forward and firm, but he was protective of his experiments- his attempts at finding proof water wasn’t always needed to sustain life and thus proving life on other planets could be possible. It was his life’s work, he didn’t want some grad student destroying it.
She had been surprised at his appearance, gently setting down the pipette she was holding to look at him through her safety glasses. She’d looked him up and down, no doubt taking in the street clothes he still wore (his cream cardigan with foxes on it) and quirked a brow.
The next several minutes of his life were some of his most humiliating. The embroidered name on her pristine white lab coat, a name with a very definitive Dr. listed before it, had him left standing with his foot in his mouth. He’d stammered over an apology, accidentally dropping his coffee all over the sterile white floor in the process.
Most other scientists he crossed paths with were very picky about how they were addressed, finding it very offensive when you left off the Doctor before their name, much less mistaking them for a student. Rightfully so, Ryland supposed. He knew firsthand how much time and effort it took to get to where he and the other professionals in his field were so it made sense that some wanted that respect.
Ryland didn’t care too much about it, and thankfully the new face in his lab didn’t seem to care either.
She handled his bumbling apology with grace and assured him all was well, even helping him clean up his coffee spill. He’d learned she was a published scientist, specializing in microbial genetics and the evolution of microorganisms. They were scientists in the same vein. She knew him, he didn’t know her.
While most people laughed and berated him for his theory that water wasn’t always needed for life, something that was proven time and time again in the scientific world, she was very interested in his work which was what brought her to him in the first place.
Ryland was wrapped around her finger from that moment on.
They rarely went a day without seeing each other after that, usually running experiments together but occasionally meeting up for lunch on the weekends to discuss the latest scientific findings in the world. Those conversations eventually turned into less science focused, more personal ones. Then they started meeting up outside of weekends.
Ryland was too hesitant to call them dates, out of fear of getting his hopes up.
He didn’t dare put a label on what they had together. He didn’t want to ruin anything.
The fleeting touches between experiments, the shy smiles, his regular coffee order that she’d memorized. None of it felt casual, but what did he know?
When he published his theory and got shunned by the scientific community (they didn’t take his wording about the professionals in the community very kindly), losing his job and all of his funding, she was the only thing that kept him afloat. She didn’t turn her back, she saw the passion in his work. Whether she believed his theory or not, she supported him.
When she’d appeared on his doorstep one night as he tried to work out his finances- how to pay the next month's rent- takeout in hand, he knew right then that he loved her and would until the day he died.
It only solidified in his mind when she’d kissed him as they sat side by side on his couch. It was slow, gentle, full of understanding and warmth, an attempt at comfort when he was so low. It worked too- he didn’t feel nearly as down about his situation after that because now he had something else to work towards.
Things worked rather quickly from there. He moved into her apartment the next month and she helped him hunt for jobs. A friend of her friend got him an interview at Grover Cleveland Middle and thus began his teaching career. He found himself loving it much more than he’d expected, quickly finding his groove in the classroom and earning the ‘Favorite Teacher’ title from the students.
They teased him constantly about his girlfriend, always asking when she’d be coming to visit next. She’d bring him lunch sometimes, or just pop in to say hi, leaving him with a kiss on the cheek that had his students ooo-ing and aaa-ing, much to his chagrin.
A couple of years down the road, when they’d married and life seemed perfect, everything went to hell.
The sun was dying and there was no solution in sight.
She spent hours upon hours scouring the internet for more information, trying to understand why it was happening. She didn’t specialize in astronomy or heliology, didn’t understand it like she did genetics and DNA, but she tried anyway.
It took him shutting her laptop himself, gently taking her hands and pulling her away from her desk to get her to stop, forcing her to come back to the bed and sleep.
Ryland wasn’t as passionate, figuring there were more qualified people in the world working on a solution, and that it would blow over.
It didn’t.
When he was approached by Eva Stratt and suddenly thrust into the astrophage madness, he started to worry that maybe this was a bigger deal than he’d thought. Maybe he should’ve been studying like her.
She was excited for him to be a part of this, as scary as it was. To be the first person on earth to come in contact with whatever was killing the sun, with what they would learn is the first form of alien life.
As much as he begged Stratt, his wife wasn’t allowed to come along with him. Something about it being top secret to the public for now. When he tried to reason with her that she wasn’t just some random person- that she was smart and an expert with microorganisms even more so then he was, that she could help- Stratt would hear none of it. They wanted him because he believed in life that could survive without water; an alien lifeform that lived on the sun sounded just like what he’d spent years trying to prove.
So as Ryland was whisked away to study the new life, she was stuck at home to wait. The couple years between initially being found by Stratt and the launch of the Hail Mary, Ryland only saw her in person a handful of times, otherwise too busy or too restricted by those in charge to take trips home. He could tell she was hurting, missing him immensely, the sad strain in her voice prominent even over the static of his phone, but she never complained, all too aware how important he seemingly was to the mission.
And then…
Rocky was listening intently, at one point folding his arms underneath him and resting on them like a cat to get more comfortable. When Ryland got to the point that was still too painful to even think about, Rocky finally chimed in.
“She sound good.”
Ryland laughed but it was painful. “Yeah. She is good. I miss her.”
Rocky tapped a claw on the ground. “You miss her but you see her again soon.”
Right… he’d never told Rocky that this was a suicide mission. That Ryland wasn’t going back to earth.
Rocky would see his people again- his mate again. His people had planned for his and his crew’s return back to Erid.
Ryland wasn’t so lucky.
This certainly didn’t feel like the time to bring that little fact up to Rocky. Not while they were talking about the people they loved so dearly. So Ryland just nodded.
“What is Grace mate name, question?”
The scientist thought about her face, her smile, her everything. “(Y/n). There’s no real word for her name in your language, not like mine. It’s just a name.”
Rocky was able to ‘say’ Ryland’s last name, Grace, because grace was also a noun their languages shared. His companion shifted slightly as he thought before perking up. “I call Grace’s mate, ♪♪♪♪.”
The translator didn’t pick up the word he said, meaning it was a new word he’d never used before. “What does that mean?”
“Someone who cares about others. Special word in Erid.”
Ryland smiled. (Y/n) deserved a special name. “I like the sound of that.” He pulled out their communication laptop and had Rocky say her name again, logging the new sound. While (Y/n)’s name in Rocky’s language wasn’t as long and intricate as Rocky’s mate’s name was, it sure beat his own name in Eridian, which was a singular note (not fair).
Setting the computer aside, Ryland dug into the pants pocket of his red jumpsuit, carefully slipping free the polaroid he’d found in his bag of belongings when he’d first woken up.
(Y/n) was one of the first things he remembered amidst his amnesia scrambled brain. In fact, he’d remembered her before he’d remembered his own name. The ring on his finger helped, but he couldn’t forget her. Not in a million years, not if he’d been in a coma for another decade.
The polaroid was grainy, not at all perfect, but it was the only thing he had in his belongings that had her face on it.
They had been dating at the time, pretty new to the relationship to the point where Ryland still had butterflies any time she gave him any kind of affection.
She’d taken a whole day off to be with him and help in his classroom on one of his students favorite and most rowdy days of the year- Halloween.
Obviously, they had matching costumes and of course they had to be science related. His class had been in the space unit of the curriculum, so naturally she was an astronaut and he was an alien. A little ironic, considering where he was now.
The costume she wore was a generic astronaut costume from the local pop-up Halloween shop, a bright orange jumpsuit with a little patch over the chest that was supposed to say “Save Our Planet” circling around a little Earth but apparently had a manufacturing issue because it said “Save Our Plant” instead. She loved it so much, they didn’t bother taking it back to swap it out for a new one.
Ryland had a green morph suit underneath his regular teaching getup, only wearing the face covering for a couple minutes at the beginning of class to appease the masses before unzipping the head because it was way too stuffy and nearly impossible to teach in. His students complained about his costume, claiming it “wasn’t halloweeny enough” now. (Y/n) was quick to find a solution with the help of some craft supplies, making up an antenna headband and gluing a googly eye to his forehead. This was enough for his students who giggled every time he moved now, the puffball antennae and googly eye swaying wildly with any movement.
Very little teaching was accomplished that day,
By 3pm when all of his kids were headed home in their costumes, Ryland was sweating through his morph suit and (Y/n) was exhausted from wrangling pre-teens. Once everything was straightened up and bags were packed, (Y/n) whipped out her polaroid camera for a picture to remember the day.
Ryland ran his thumb over the smooth plastic, taking in her bright smile as she leant back into his torso. Ryland’s cheeks were pink but he'd had enough of a mind to throw up a neon green clad peace sign before she snapped the picture in an attempt not to look completely infatuated by the woman who pressed herself against him. It took several months of dating before that initial “honeymoon phase” wore off and he stopped blushing furiously at just the sight of her.
“That (Y/n), question? Rocky see, question?”
Rocky pointed his texture monitor at the polaroid to get a better view and started bouncing. “Pretty pretty pretty! Prettier human than Grace!”
“Can’t argue with that,” Ryland smiled. “She would’ve loved to meet you, Rock. She loves evolution and would be chomping at the bit to find all of the similarities Earth and Erid life have with each other, if our hypothesis of stemming from the same common ancestor has any merrit. She would’ve loved to see Eridian families too, the whole egg process you told me about. Genes and stuff are her thing. She’d ask you all about how traits are passed from generation to generation.”
Rocky’s claws clacked together. “No understand half of what you said.”
Ryland sighed and moved to lay on his back, holding the polaroid above his head. “That’s ok. Basically, I just think you guys would get along really well.”
A trill emanated from Rocky. “Yes yes yes! She friend! I send her message!”
Propping himself up on his arms, Ryland looked quizzically at the rock. “You want to record something for (Y/n)?”
All he got in return was an excited dance.
-
Ryland had yet to record any video log to send home specifically for (Y/n). He had plans to… eventually. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was terrified that recording something for her would feel like the final nail in the coffin- it would finally settle in that those would be his last words to her and he would never get an answer back.
Was she angry at him for leaving? Proud? Was she even still alive? For all he knew, humanity had already been wiped out and he was the only person left. He had no way of knowing. No way to know if it was already too late or if any information he sent on the beetles would make it to earth.
Has she moved on? Found someone else to spend the end of the world with?
These sorts of thoughts plagued him at night when his mind wasn’t focused on the mission. It made him sick to think about but he couldn’t say he really blamed her.
He had yet to remember how they’d parted ways. If he got to hold her in a crushing hug and tell her he loved her, that he was sorry that they didn’t have more time. That he’s sorry he was picked for this important mission. Were their final words exchanged over the phone? A faceless, painful goodbye? Did they even get to say goodbye at all?
He wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer. His brain couldn’t remember but every time he thought about it, his heart squeezed in his chest, like it was a horrible memory that wanted to stay hidden. Maybe that was enough of an answer for him.
Rocky was swaying his ball back and forth, waiting impatiently for Ryland to start recording. If Rocky noticed his hesitation, he didn’t acknowledge it, which meant he probably didn’t notice because he absolutely was the type of guy to point it out.
Making sure the two of them were within view on the screen, Ryland sucked in a quiet breath. The hand holding the camera was shaking as he pressed the button.
“Uh-“ How do you even start a video that would be the final words the person you love more than anything hears from you? “Hey, how’s it going?” Not like that.
“This video is for (Y/n) Grace… if whoever gets this could get this to her that would be super cool? If you’re not her then stop watching I guess.”
He’d never wanted to be sucked into space more than at that moment. How embarrassing. Rocky nudged his ball against Ryland’s leg.
“Ah- anyways (Y/n), I have someone who wants to say hi.”
He angled the camera so Rocky took up all of the screen this time. The alien stood proud and opened a claw in greeting. “Hello, Grace mate!”
Ryland chuckled. “This is Rocky, the weird alien I happened across while on my galaxial excursion. Messy guy, takes up a lot of my precious space with his hamster tunnels.”
“Me messy? You are messy!” Rocky stomped his claw and rolled closer to the camera. “Grace have garbage everywhere when I move in. You have messy mate. Was Grace like this on earth, question?”
Shoving his ball back a bit (as much as the scientist could manage anyway, Rocky did weigh like 300 pounds), Ryland shook his head furiously at the camera like (Y/n) was on a video call. “Not true, I’m a clean guy. The journey through space has been bumpy, it’s impossible to keep anything in its place these days. Space turbulence.” Ryland couldn’t have (Y/n) thinking he’d turned into some kind of slob (even if it was sort of true). He couldn’t believe Rocky was trying to rile up his own wife against him. Worst of all, he knew she would take Rocky’s side, if just to tease him.
The two bickered for several minutes, Rocky commenting on every little thing he could think of to tattle about, then switching to talking about himself and his mate, remembering what Ryland had told him about (Y/n)’s expertise, and going into detail about Erid reproduction just as Ryland said she’d want to learn about.
“Lay egg next to each other, then they combine and then baby Eridian! You and Grace have egg soon, question?”
Ryland sprung to his feet and pulled the camera to his chest like it could muffle the alien’s voice. “Alright! I think it’s time you go fix something while I talk to (Y/n) by myself. Mate talk.”
“Mate talk?”
“Yeah, important stuff. It’s a human thing. Try not to eavesdrop, it’s rude.”
Rocky made a noise that sounded like a humph. “It’s rude. Fine. I talk later.”
Pulling the camera from his chest, Ryland allowed Rocky to say goodbye. He didn’t know if he’d get another chance to ‘talk’ to her. “Later friend (Y/n)! Grace is good friend to Rocky. You have very brave mate. He very excited to see you again.”
And with that, he rolled off to do whatever he deemed worthy of his time. Ryland had trouble swallowing the lump in his throat, glancing down at the camera before walking towards the opposite of the ship. It was probably no use, Rocky could hear everything in the ship no matter how far apart they were but hopefully he’d keep to himself and not listen to the very private conversation he was about to have.
Finding a tiny alcove amongst boxes of storage, Ryland settled down in the dim light and sniffed. Moving to nestle his glasses in his hair, he rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh. “He’s something, isn’t he?” He talked softly, like he was indeed having a private conversation. “Pain in my ass sometimes but… I’m glad he’s here.”
Ryland stared blankly at the box of equipment that sat opposite of him, brushing the flat of his shoes over the surface as a distraction. His heart began to race as he scrambled to put together the words he so desperately wanted to tell her since he woke up.
“Uh… I’m sorry I haven't made you any video logs yet, we’ve been a little busy. That and… I was in a coma for 4 years, give or take, so recording time has been sparse.” He forced a smile and chuckle, trying to throw humor into his words when there was none. A coping mechanism he’d had as long as he could remember.
“That and… I didn't think I had the courage to do it at the time. Still don't actually.”
The thrum of the ship underneath him started to feel too loud in the silence between his words.
“The coma really did a number on my brain. I don’t know how much the Hail Mary team on earth has told you, if anything. At least, I sure hope they gave you an explanation on why I’m here and not back home. I don’t remember anything from the days leading up to the launch. To be honest, I'm not even sure how I ended up on this mission. Everything that I've remembered this far has pointed to me not being a part of the crew. It's weird and I don't understand it but I'm sure it’ll make sense eventually. Something must’ve happened and I volunteered to go. Rocky says I’m brave for being here. I should be honored for being picked to come here, to be a hero. But…”
He choked. Choked on his words and the burning in his eyes told him enough of how he truly felt.
“I miss you,” he stuttered. “So much.” A sob escaped him. “So much it hurts. I wish I was home with you, in bed, worrying about the next parent-teacher conference. Worrying about my students passing their final tests. Worried about the old lunchlady, Ms. Ruth, in the cafeteria who’d flirt with me any time I had to eat school lunch.” He laughed at the memory, a small genuine laugh this time amidst the tears that were now streaming down his face. How simple his life had been, the worries that seemed so trivial now.
“I miss our late night talks about your work. What you experimented on that day. I miss your smile. I miss when you’d steal my glasses so you could read your book, claiming they helped you see better. I still think that’s baloney by the way, I think you just liked wearing them.”
Moment after moment flitted through his mind, things he could remember about their shared lives. He wanted to list all of them, to let her know how much he thought about her, but it would take 13 years more to say it all. There was just one thought- one thought that truly plagued him, that squeezed his heart so tightly he could barely breathe. One he was terrified to learn the answer to.
“Did we even get to say goodbye?” He couldn’t manage to say it louder than a minuscule whisper. He wasn’t even sure the recorder would pick up the sound.
“Are you even still alive out there? Am I already too late? Has the earth turned into an icy tundra and there’s no one left to save?” He wiped at his eyes, hands furiously shaking now. “It kills me that I'll never know. That I'll never get to say goodbye.”
Rocky hadn’t learned the word goodbye- they hadn’t exchanged the word yet so he wouldn’t understand it if he was indeed listening through the walls.
“I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I hope you’re safe, wherever you are and you know that any decision I made, I made for you. To keep the earth safe and give you and humanity a slim chance for survival.”
At least, he hoped that’s why he was stuck on this ship until he died. That he’d chosen this. He had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t remembering quite right but if (Y/n) was alive, he wanted to give her some comfort. Let her believe he’d gone into this with the courage to be a hero.
“Anyways…”
Wiping his cheeks of tears, he tried to compose himself. He didn’t want her last real memory of him to be such a downer.
“Well, we’ve got a lot of brainstorming to do before we reach the planet the astrophage are flocking to like they are to Venus. Hopefully we find something that solves this mystery so I can actually send this video to you… Fingers crossed.”
He crosses his fingers for the camera and moves his glasses back to his nose. “ I love you. No matter how far apart we are, that’ll never change.” A small, genuine smile creeped over him. “Bye…”
After stopping the recording, Ryland gently set the camera down in his lap and rested his head back against the boxes. If Rocky and himself didn’t find a solution to send home, there was no rhyme or reason to send the beetles back with their video logs. What was earth going to do with the information besides confirming aliens are indeed real? It wouldn’t matter in the long run, it wouldn’t save their sun.
He supposed, if it meant giving her a message one last time, that could be worth it.
As hard as it was to find the words, Ryland felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Coming to terms with his new reality, exposing the feelings he’d kept bottled up since he woke up. As time went on, he hoped more memories would return, that his hunch was wrong. But he’d cross that bridge when it came. For now? Find a solution to give her a fighting chance.
a/n: now imagine how heartbroken ryland will be when he remembers that he indeed never got to say goodbye and she was left wondering 🤩 hope you enjoyed! I'm thinking..... smut next?
I'm actually obsessed with Ryland Grace like I can't cope I think I just got what having a comfort character is like I'm going crazy
that's my man right there...
the fact that Jud's actual name could be Judas is so important to me y'all don't even get it.
i write that into every wudm fic i write and oh ive got all this fuckass lore for it
his mom named him after st. judas thaddeus, patron saint of lost causes. bc she knew she wasn’t gonna keep him and she knew his dad who she was leaving him with wasn’t uhhhh a great person. but keeping a baby wasn’t really an option for her and she thought he’d be better off w his dad than growing up a foster kid or w/e… thought he was a little bit doomed maybe and felt awful and just wanted to send that little bit of blessing with him… even if he is a hopeless cause let there be hope for him anyway
growing up his father always told him that his mother had named him judas bc he was a part of her body that betrayed her, caused her nothing but pain. and boy howdy did he internalize that shit
when he was like . 9. he was like ohhhhh it's not just my dad, literally everybody thinks my name is Evil i gotta go by smth else. jud. let's go w that
oh ok so you're a genius
The little flower doodles I'm gonna PASS OUT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
Tempting Disaster, Testing Water
Masterlist
Part 7 of my No Kind Words series. This whole chapter is just pure sexual tension. Someone put me down. I promise I’ll let them smash eventually lol
Based on another banger idea from the genius mind of @dumb-blondeee
WC: 1.3k
A/N: at this point I don’t even believe in proofreading before posting lol. Enjoy!
Taglist(please let me know if you want off/on/missed you. I’m sorry I promise I’ll get this taglist thing figured out one day lol): @thora-jane @quietly-kept @dumb-blondeee @austinbutler-marryme @lmaridi @chickenmim
“No way! There’s no way, I don’t believe you!” She laughed.
“I’m serious!” He proclaimed. They were spending another Tuesday evening, making dinner at her place. She was teaching him how to cook for two—for himself and Wicks, of course! Jud was cutting up bell peppers for fajitas. She was cutting cilantro. He was telling her stories from his previous life. “Hand t’God. I swear!”
She continued her teasing, still unconvinced. “Yeah, yeah. Sure—“
“I swear to you, the whole boxing thing did not have the effect that you’d think it would on my love life...” He laughed awkwardly. “Ok? Girls weren’t into the whole bloody and bruised look once they actually saw a guy spit up blood. It’s hard to make out with a split lip and a black eye isn’t as romantic as you’d think—if anything, I think it probably lowered my chances. I would have probably done better if they didn’t know!”
“Mhm!”
“—and I was always busy, between training, trying to stay out of trouble…trying to find trouble. It didn’t leave much time for it. —plus I was awkward, oh god I was so awkward. I had no idea how to talk to a girl. And—“
“And you still don’t!” She interjected. “No way! I’ve heard your stories! Sounds like past you would have been a good time!”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘a good time’ but if you mean ‘an absolute nightmare’ then yes, agreed.”
She paused for a minute, then shrugged casually.
“I don’t know, you just look like you’d be fun in bed…”
He almost dropped the knife. He looked up. She gave him a sly smile. Damn it. She got him. That Temptress.
‘Welp. Alright, guess we’re taking the bait.’he thought.
“What makes you say that?” He asked, feigning mild annoyance. He knew she liked making him mildly annoyed. She loved his tone of subtle disapproval. And she loved how he never missed an opportunity to indulge her.
She pretended to think for a minute.
“I don’t know…you just have this kinda thing about you…” she shrugged. “You just strike me as the type to be such a good boy, you know?”
He feels the words enter his mind and send a shiver down his spine. Welp, there go any plans of trying to go to sleep early tonight.
You’d be such a good boy.
Such a good boy.
Good boy.
Good.
Boy.
…
“Is that so?” He asks, managing (barely) to keep it together.
“I don’t know…you tell me.” She bit her lip, trying to hold back her smile. He was so flustered. She knew it! She knew it!
“Come on, don’t you wanna be my good boy? Tell me…”
Don’t you wanna be my good boy?
Be my good boy.
My good boy.
My.
Good.
Boy.
…
“I don’t know…” she began again, when he didn’t respond, her voice dreamy and distant. “I just always thought…I don’t know it seems like you have this whole ‘bad boy who just wants to be good thing’ going which to me just screams ‘I want to be such a good boy for you’ and I feel like any girl would be able to see that and want to give it a try, ya know?”
He swallowed hard again. She looked back up at him.
“Am I pretty close?” She asked. He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded.
She smiled again.
“That’s what I meant by you’d be a good time.”
You’d be a good time.
A good time.
Good.
Time.
Good.
Boy.
…
“Too bad…” she sighed. “Still a good boy though.”
“Your good boy?” He breathed.
A pause. Their eyes met.
“Do you… wanna be… my good boy?” She asked slowly and with uncertainty. She had steered them into dangerous waters again…and Jud had rowed the boat.
She raised a brow in challenge. This was the girl from his birthday night, who looked him in the eyes, after she just unraveled him with just a few moves of her hips and a couple soft words, and told him next time she had him, she was going to make him commit his sins sober. He hasn’t had a drink since…just in case.
The longer he looked at her like this, the more his eyes glazed over with desire. God, she’s got him good.
“I guess n—“
“Yes.—“ He blurted out. “I do.”
She smiled. “See, girls can tell.”
There was a pause. They held each others gaze for a moment longer, before she went back to her cilantro.
“I bet you were even more desperate then, less reserved.” She said under her breath. “You were probably the cutest thing…I’m just saying, I’d probably have let you ruin my life if I met ya then.”
Let you ruin my life.
Ruin my life.
Let you.
Let.
Ruin.
His brain shorted out. All the blood rushing elsewhere.
He was sober.
And he was ready to fall to her feet and beg her for a chance to sin.
“I would have.” He said, unsure if it came out eager or somber. Both made sense.
“It’s still not too late.” She said.
Was that a challenge? An invitation? A warning?
“Who says I won’t still?” Jud shot back. He saw the faintest hint of fluster cross her features. Did he just manage to turn the tables on her?
“I bet you’d like that.” He scoffs. Her eyes get big.the two of them were just leaning over her kitchen island now, caught up in this game of sexual tension chicken that neither one of them was willing to lose, all thoughts about cooking dinner now long abandoned.
“Strike me as the type, ya know?”
He throws her words back at her. He seems to have read her as well as she had him in this area as well. She cocks her brow again in question. He doesn’t wait to drag it out of her though.
“The type that likes to stir up trouble, likes to see how far she can push things.” It was his turn to tease now. He saw her bite her lip. “Likes to bite off more than she can chew.”
He leaned in closer to her, resting his hand on the counter behind her.
“Am I pretty close?” His voice low in her ear. She leaned back to look at him. Her eyes were wide, expression startled. Was that too much? Oh god, he went too far, didn’t he? Damn it, she got him agai—
She crashed her lips to his. Her hands looped themselves over his neck and his came down to her waist. He pulled her in flush against him as their mouths fought for dominance.
She was too short, he was tired of craning his neck at that angle. He slid his hands down her hips and he hoisted her up onto the counter. This startled her and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. Her hands tangled themselves in his curls and gave a light tug. He moaned into her mouth.
They both pulled away gasping for air. Her lips were shiny from spit, her dress had gotten jostled when he picked her up — she looked so beautiful.
“So was I?” He asked. She looked confused. “Was I right about you…you like going around looking for trouble?”
She bit her lip and then she leaned in and planted another kiss, before giving his bottom lip a little bite as well.
“Can you blame a girl for wanting to have a good time?” She whispered against his mouth, before pulling him into another kiss, then slowly trailing kisses down his neck.
“Well,” he sucked in a breath through his teeth. God, her lips felt nice. “Lucky for you, I’ve been told I’m a good time.”
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, drop me a comment and let me know!
THIS IS CRAZY.....but perfect.
BLIP | ft. P. ZWEIG
summary In the sweltering heat of a lost summer, Patrick Zweig, broke, bored, and clinging to the remnants of his past, finds a fleeting escape in a raw, messy fling with a younger college student.
wc 3.4k words
warnings sexual themes/language, mild age gap (mid-30s and early 20s), tiny power imbalance/older guy manipulating younger woman, casual sex, library and campus settings, use of the term ‘kid’, if that’s anything, angst?
pairing pre-2019!patrick zweig x college student fem!reader
Patrick felt like a fucking creep.
All he could do was watch.
You weren’t even doing anything—just sitting cross-legged in the library, headphones in, scribbling notes from a textbook bigger than his head.
Whatever the hell it was you were studying. Economics? Engineering? Fuck, for all he knew, it could’ve been interpretive dance theory. He never bothered asking. Didn’t care enough to.
All he could think about was how your skirt rode up every time you shifted, how your thighs pressed together under the table, the faint shadow between them.
He shouldn’t even be here. Not like this. Not after losing, with sweat still dried salty on his skin, clothes clinging damp under his arms, hair sticking up in every direction from running his hand through it too many times. He’d walked straight off court, barely pausing to spit on the baseline in disgust, keys jingling in his pocket as he stormed off to find you.
He needed you – needed something soft to bury himself in, something sweet to erase the taste of failure burning hot and bitter in his chest. The taste of losing to some seventeen-year-old recruit with bright eyes and a perfect backhand.
Maybe there was something sad about a guy pushing his mid-thirties, unemployed and hanging around a campus library waiting for his college fling to finish studying.
But Patrick had lost worse things than dignity lately.
Like his last match, only hours ago – a brutal, humiliating defeat that left his body aching and his head throbbing with every thump of his pulse. He hadn’t even showered yet, just thrown on jeans and hoped for the best.
He’d left the court with his racket dragging on the ground, sweat soaking through his shirt, half-blinded by the sun and rage.
Now here he was, watching you, hoping you’d fix it. Hoping you’d scrape him off the concrete floor of his ego just long enough to feel like a man again.
He’d blown through most of his trust fund – dog racing bets, whiskey tabs, overpriced trainers he convinced himself would fix his footwork. His apartment was month-to-month now, his car insurance lapsed, and his last match ended with a towel over his head, forehead pressed to his knees in the locker room, listening to the sounds of his opponent celebrating two rooms over.
So.
What do you do when you’re broke, your dreams have turned to dust, your best friend is with your ex, and deep down, you know you’re one of the best to ever play the game?
You hook up with a college student in the middle of Summer. Sticky, burning, California July.
Jesus Christ, if Art saw him now.
You were his early midlife crisis—not that scandalous of an age gap, he had, what? A decade at most? But the new scruffy beard he was trying out certainly didn’t help with the sideways looks from his neighbors when you showed up. Young, pretty, wide-eyed and curious—like you didn’t belong in his broken world, but maybe you did.
Patrick hummed under his breath as he walked over, planting his hands heavy on your shoulders. You gasped in surprise, hand flying to your mouth to stifle it, until you felt his lips press against your bare skin, dry and warm and scratchy with beard burn.
“Hey, kid,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly with sleep and old cigarettes.
“Jesus, Patrick,” you panted, letting out a breathless laugh as you calmed down. A few people glanced over, frowning at the older guy hovering over your chair. “You scared me.”
You blinked, really looking at him now. Patrick. In a library. Eyes flicking over the sweat stains on his collar, the dark circles under his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Great question. What were you studying today? International Relations? Criminology? He really should ask.
“Just… was nearby,” he lied, voice light. “Thought I’d pop by. Maybe take you out to the food court. On me, huh?” He nudged your shoulder, as if he was really outdoing himself by paying for a $3.50 churro.
You scoffed softly, eyes narrowing with that knowing look that always made his chest twist uncomfortably. Like you could read him too well. Like you saw straight through to the rotting wood underneath all his charm.
“What?” he asked lightly, feigning innocence.
“Nothing. Nothing.” You paused, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sure, I’d love to. Give me, like, five minutes? Just need to finish this chapter.”
Patrick slumped down into the chair beside you with a sigh, ignoring the two other students across the table giving him dirty looks.
He turned his body fully towards you, resting his chin in his palm, eyes locked on your face like he didn’t care about the awkward tension suffocating the little group. He never pursued this college life.
Never liked the lecture halls or cheap beer or pretending to care about someone’s major. But he liked watching you. That much was obvious.
You tried to push down your smile, but it bubbled up anyway, making it impossible to focus on your reading. He loved how easily girls like you got flustered by a bit staring.
“Patrick,” you mumbled without looking up.
“Mm?”
“Stop looking at me,”
He let out a long, dramatic sigh, tapping the table lightly with his palms before slinking back in the chair, legs spread out carelessly. His eyes flicked up, meeting one of the other students’ glares, and he gave them a tight-lipped, dead-eyed smile until they quickly dropped their gaze back to their notes.
It wasn’t long after that you closed your textbook with a quiet thud, slipping your headphones around your neck as you packed your bag. He tried to catch the title on the spine as you packed it away, but you were too quick. His brain flitted to the next thought quickly, uncaring.
Patrick watched every movement like he was memorising it. Like he’d forget what you looked like if he blinked too long.
“Ready?” you asked softly, slinging your tote over your shoulder.
He didn’t answer. Just stood up with a grunt, hand pressing against his knee as he rose. Fuck, when did standing up start hurting?
He slung an arm lazily around your shoulders as you both walked out into the brutal heat of the California summer afternoon.
Outside, the air felt thick and humid, clinging to your skin like sweat. Patrick’s shirt was damp at the collar, sticking to the back of his neck. He smelled like sun-warmed cotton and stale deodorant, his beard scratchy against your temple as he pressed a lazy kiss there.
“You eat today?” he asked as you both crossed the cracked concrete quad towards the food court. The sun burned down, white-hot against the pavement, making him squint.
“Not really,” you replied, squinting up at him as the wind caught your hair. “Been here since like… eight.”
“AM? Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as he guided you through the crowd. “What’re they feeding you, huh? Slave wages for education and all that.”
You snorted lightly, and he grinned down at you, his thumb brushing idly against the thin strap of your top where it sat against your shoulder. Then, without a word, he slipped the bag off your arm, slinging it over his own shoulder with exaggerated ease.
It was out of character for him. He never bothered with this gentleman act unless he wanted something. And you could feel it in the way his fingers lingered a moment too long on your skin – like he was trying to remind you how easy it would be to just give in.
Patrick had been around the block. Men, women – didn’t matter. They were all the same. They just wanted to feel wanted. Valuable. And he could give them that. At least, when he wanted something in return.
He carried your bag the rest of the way, glancing over at you every so often with that same sly little grin. Making sure you saw. Making sure you remembered he could be sweet when he wanted to be.
The food court was mostly empty at this hour, the lunch rush long gone and the dinner crowd not here yet. Patrick bought you both greasy churros with the last crumpled bills in his pocket, sitting across from you in the sticky plastic booth, legs spread wide like he owned the place, even though his hands were still shaking from the match.
Even though all he could think about was how badly he needed to touch you – needed to feel your skin under his palms, warm and alive and his.
You bit into your churro as he watched you, tongue darting out to catch a fleck of sugar from your lip. His eyes followed the movement, hungry in a way that made your thighs clench together under the table.
You both knew he wasn’t here to play the nice boyfriend, which he can play too well for your taste.
“What?” you asked, voice quiet, almost shy.
“Nothin',” he said, leaning back and stretching his arms out along the booth bench. The pose pulled his shirt tight across his chest, exposing a flash of pale belly and the dark trail of hair leading down. “It's hot, isn't it?”
Great. Now weather talk.
You watched him for a moment, chewing slowly, eyes narrowed just slightly. “You’re acting weird,” you said finally, voice quiet but firm. “Like… 'you're my boyfriend' weird.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as he licked sugar off his thumb. “How's that weird? Is that a bad thing?” A beat, as he tilts his head a bit at you. "You change your hair?"
“Oh, come on,” you replied, leaning back against the cracked vinyl seat, moving your hand to touch your hair. You hadn't done anything different. “You show up out of nowhere, kiss me like you missed me, carry my bag, pay for my stupid churro… What's your angle?”
His smirk faltered just a fraction, his eyes flicking away to the food court windows before landing back on you. For a moment, he looked tired. Older than he usually let show.
But then he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No angle, kid.”
You frowned, studying the line of his jaw, the tired slump of his shoulders, the dried salt stain of sweat on his collar.
"Maybe I just missed you," He hums. "Hair looks good, you should do it like that more often."
You could accept a bit of that. You had missed him too, even if you wouldn't admit it to him. You knew he would use it against you in some way. And he knew you'd never use it against him.
You clear your throat, trying to hide the small smile he caused. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a while. You been alright?”
He furrowed his brows, scratching at his temple like the question physically itched. “What’re you talking about? Saw you…” He paused, thinking. “What? A week ago?”
“Two weeks,” you corrected softly. “Usually you text if you wanna see me. Just… did something happen?”
Patrick hummed low in his throat, his eyes flicking over your face before drifting away. He let out a sigh, shoulders sagging slightly.
“Nah. No. Just… felt like seeing you, s’all.” He lied easily, hand reaching out to yours where it rested across the table, thumb brushing over your knuckles. So soft, he thought distantly. Like butter left out too long in the summer heat.
You raised your brows, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, you let out a quiet scoff. “Okay…”
He sensed the shift instantly—the way your hand stiffened under his, your back straightening against the vinyl seat. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting away for a moment.
“How’re exams?” he asked, the question sounding foreign in his mouth. Small talk. Fucking pointless. But wasn’t that what guys your age did? Asked about classes, essays, your future.
Be the good boyfriend, he told himself. Pretend you care.
You shrugged, fingers drifting to your necklace, twisting it idly. The chain dipped low between your collarbones, catching his eye for a long, unashamed moment. His gaze lingered there before dragging slowly back up to meet yours. You noticed, of course you did. But you didn’t call him out on it. You never did.
“Fine. Stressful,” you sighed, your voice softer now. “I’ve been needing a break. I’m… glad you’re here. I didn’t mean to be… accusatory, or anything.”
He let out a short breath, somewhere between a scoff and a sigh, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off your words. “Don’t worry about it. Forgiven.”
You're aren't exactly sure what you're forgiven for.
He doesn't elaborate, just leans back in the booth. A silence settled between you, thick and pulsing, your unspoken wants buzzing just under the surface.
His patience was wearing thin. He didn’t care about your exams, your readings, your neat little colour-coded notes. That wasn’t what he was here for.
“C’mere,” he said after a moment, voice dropping lower.
You frowned, confused. Your eyes flicked around the deserted food court, noting the underpaid student workers had retreated to the back. “Patrick…” you warned softly.
“C’mere,” he repeated, firmer this time.
You slid out of your seat, slipping into his side of the booth. He angled his body towards you immediately, hand coming up to cup your cheek as he kissed you, slow and deep. You tasted cinnamon sugar on his tongue, felt the coarse scrape of his beard against your jaw as he tilted your head back to get better access.
His other hand slipped under the table, fingers skimming up the inside of your thigh. You gasped softly against his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as heat coiled low in your belly.
“Lost today,” he rasped against your lips, voice thick with exhaustion and something desperate. His thumb brushed slow, heavy circles along your jaw, grounding himself. “Played like shit. Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t… focus. Just wanted…” He trailed off, pressing his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. You felt him tremble – just slightly – under your fingertips where they curled into his thigh.
You swallowed, your breath hitching as he tilted your chin up to look at him properly. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed pink with sun and sweat and something you couldn’t name.
“Think you can… help me out, huh?” he rasped, the edge of a smirk playing at his lips as his fingers skimmed higher up your thigh. “Be good for me… make it all go away, yeah?”
You let out a shaky breath, pulse hammering so loud in your ears it drowned out the hum of the fluorescent lights above. He had you exactly where he wanted you. That was the thing about girls like you – and you knew it, god, you knew it too well – all it took was him saying he wanted you. Even if it wasn’t really you he was thinking about at all.
Because this was humiliating. Your friends were right when they called you stupid for hanging around him – some sweaty, unemployed, uneducated older guy with dark circles and dog-eaten sneakers. A man clinging to the last flicker of something he used to be.
But for Patrick, you were just a blip.
An easy detour on the way back to Art and Tashi, a stop-gap to scratch whatever itch he refused to name. And for you… you weren’t sure what he was. A distraction. A secret. A sweaty summer sin that made you feel raw and alive and so, so ashamed.
But when his thumb hooked under the thin cotton of your panties and he pressed closer, smelling like cheap soap and stale deodorant, all you could think about was how good it felt to be wanted like this.
Even by someone like him.
“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice cracking in the middle. “Yeah… okay.”
Patrick smiles at that, that shit-eating grin. “Yeah?”
You nod, maybe too quickly.
As you got up, he followed, his hand drifting down to your ass with a lazy confidence, like he couldn’t help himself, as he guided you to your dorm room.
You felt the sun on your back as he guided you across the quad, his palm splayed warm and rough across your ass like it belonged there. He didn't bother to carry your bag this time. He got what he wanted. The heat rose from the pavement in shimmering waves, making you dizzy.
You could smell the sweat on him now – sharp and salty, cut with cheap soap and stale deodorant – and your thighs clenched involuntarily with each step.
He walked half a step behind you, his fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt every chance he got, the pads of them tracing circles on the tender skin there. People passed by. Students. Workers.
Nobody looked twice.
He bent down, lips brushing your ear as you reached your dorm steps. “Gonna let me fuck this loss outta my head, yeah?”
You swallowed hard, fumbling with your keys. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”
You’d see him for the rest of August. He’d come by after games, after drinks, after whatever the hell else he filled his days with. Always sweaty, always tired, always pressing kisses to your neck before you could even ask how he was.
When he won, he didn’t really see you at all. He’d scroll through his phone endlessly, thumb flicking up and up and up, waiting for a text from Art. Or maybe a call from Tashi, just to hear her say “Good game.” Just to feel, for a second, like it still mattered. Like he still mattered.
He never got anything, of course. But that didn’t stop him from waiting for it, staring at the screen like it owed him something.
You were there for the losses. That’s what you were for.
Nobody got his wins. Those he kept close, selfish, private – like if he shared them, he’d lose whatever little power he still clung to.
But when he lost? When the rage roiled under his skin, bitter and hot and ugly?
That’s when he’d come to you. That’s when he’d push into your room without knocking, drop his bag on the floor, and pull you into his chest so hard it almost hurt.
That’s when he’d kiss you like he needed to feel anything at all.
And you let him. Every single time.
Because there was still that part of you – the lonely, hungry part – that liked being needed. Even if it was only for this.
If you tried to tell him about exams, he’d just hum distractedly, hands already sliding under your clothes, murmuring into your skin, “Yeah?… Smart girl. 'Ts why I like you.”
And for a moment – just a flicker – you almost believed it was enough.
You’d fall for it every time. Because what else were you supposed to do when he was looking at you like that, touching you like you were the only soft thing left in his rough, crumbling world?
Then one evening, as August wilted into September, he sat you down on your own bed – the bed he’d fucked you in a dozen times without ever really seeing you.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, eyes darting anywhere but yours. “Listen, kid… you know this wasn’t gonna be forever, right?”
Your stomach twisted. You opened your mouth, then closed it. Nodded instead. Because of course you knew. You’d known since the first time he kissed you like you were a secret he planned to bury.
“It’s not you,” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your cheek with practiced tenderness. “It’s me. I’m… I’m just in a real fucked-up place right now. You deserve… y’know. Someone better. Someone your own age.”
He smiled then – that crooked, pitying smile – like he was doing you a favour by leaving.
You tried to speak, but he was already standing up, grabbing his bag from where he’d dumped it by your door. He didn’t look back as he left, just raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, saying over his shoulder,
“Take care, yeah? Don’t work too hard on all that… whatever it is you’re studying.”
The door clicked shut behind him. You sat there, staring at your open textbook, the words swimming as tears pricked at your eyes.
(part 2)
notes: seconndd time posting. how vvv fun. i love writing i miss it so much. im tryna not overthinking everything and just post when i feel like it. . ALSO to me he def fucked around manipulated the fuck outta people and moved ON. pls let me know if i missed out on any particular tags/warnings! i never know how to end this things lol thx for reading:)
this made me want to throw up, that's how good it is 🙌🏻
DUNE 3 TRAILER IS OUT PREPEARE TO BE ABSOLUTELY SICK OF ME!!!!!!!
Birthdays and Bad Habits
Masterlist
Part 5 of what is now an *Official* mini series I will be calling "No Kind Words" (Masterlist coming soon, I promise!) based on the most Jud coded song I've ever heard
WC: 7.1K
As always: no proofreading, just vibes
Taglist (Please let me know if I forgot anyone, or if you want off. I'm still bad at these lol) :@quietly-kept @capitanperoxide @lmaridi @austinbutler-marryme @dumb-blondeee
Hope you enjoy! If you liked it, please consider dropping me a comment! :)
Friday had become Jud’s favorite day of the week. Because Fridays had become their days. With Wicks off “preparing” for the weekend and the Sunday Sermons (i.e. usually off day drinking with some friend or other, Jud didn’t care to pry. Whatever Wicks was up to was between him and God. Besides, it can’t be any worse than the stuff he saves up for his confessions, which have become more vile and openly contemptuous as time went on.) and Samson off on Fridays, along with Martha, Fridays used to be his days spent alone, filing paperwork or fixing random objects he’d find around the church. He used to look for ways to fill his time, to keep himself busy, keep his mind from wandering back to the worries that gnawed on him constantly. Fridays were mostly spent in silent solitude. The kind that helped drive him to seek out that bar, the kind that drove him into her arms, seeking any kind of comfort or connection. Something to remind him what this was all about..
But now, his Fridays are filled with laughter, banter, a warm face, standing right beside him, helping make the mundane, more manageable. Even the silence felt more comforting with her. Though, as of late, there hasn’t been much silence between them. He was worried after that night when she picked him up from the bar, took him back to her place, …when he kissed her. He worried that would have created some awkward tension between them, but he was relieved that hadn’t been the case. No, recently, she had taken to rattling off questions to him, determined to know every detail about him. It all started a couple weeks prior, when, while helping him catch up paperwork, she had seen a form of his, one that required all of his legal information, including his full legal name…and his record.
—------
“I don’t know.” She said, shrugging. “I think you should just embrace it. I mean, come on, what a missed opportunity!”
“Oh yeah?” He asked, brow raised as he looked over at her.
“A PRIEST with a NECK TATTOO, and you’re not gonna go by FATHER JUDAS. That’s just a criminal.”
He rolled his eyes and turned back to the paperwork he was filing away. She was supposed to be helping, but ever since seeing his full name printed out on one of the forms she was filing, she’s switched over to just pestering him while snooping around, trying to pry more lore out of him.
“I’m sure that’s in there somewhere too, if you keep looking.” He replied in a flat tone, eyes not moving from the paper in his hands, pretending to be too busy working (unlike someone) to look at her.
Really, he just didn’t want to see the blush creeping up his cheeks at hearing his name, just his name (no father this or that) , and his full name at that. He didn’t mind the teasing, either. He’d had to live with his name for 3 decades, through various iterations of himself:
———
“Hey Jude! How was school?” His mother greeting him when she came to pick him up after school, back when wasn’t allowed to cross the street by himself, and his mother would walk home with him, just a few blocks from the school, after he was suspended from taking the bus for kicking another boy, who had stuck gum into a girls hair (a girl that 8 year old Jud thought was the nicest, prettiest girl in the world, even when when her mom had to cut her hair short because the gum wouldn’t come out), in the head. This meant that for the rest of that school year, his mom would be waiting for him at the gates when the bell rang, and they’d walk home together, while Jud went on about what he learned that day. It was his favorite part of the day, so maybe that’s why, when the next school year started, he punched the same kid in the head for stealing a girl’s diary.
—
“And in the other corner: the crowd pleaser, the undefeated champ, the Devil’s favorite instrument in the flesh. Ladies and Gentlemen, lets hear it for for JUDAS!” He announcer yelled, the crowd cheering his name, as night after night, he decorated the floor of the ring in the makeshift, underground fight club, red with blood and his opponents black and blue with his rage. “JUDAS! JUDAS! JUDAS!”
—
“So..” The priest sat down at his desk, glancing at the paper with Jude’s chicken scratch handwriting, struggling to decipher the words.
“Judas.” He interjected, saving them both from the awkwardness. “Judas Duplenticy.”
The Priest, Langstrom was his name (he’s pretty sure), looked at him, Judas gave him a bashful smile and a nervous laugh.
“I know,” he said, beating him to the punch before Langstrom could say anything. “God’s got one hell of a sense of a sense of humor.”
He caught himself and it jolted him to straighten up. He jumped to correct himself., but Langstrom cuts him off, giving him a reassuring look.
“Yes, he sure does..” He said, his voice made Judas feel like he understood him, like he wasn’t looking to catch Judas slip up. It felt comforting.
“— Sorry, I didn’t mean…” He said anyway. “I’m still working on that…hoping I’ll get the hang of it one day.”
“You will.” He said, like he knew for a fact that Judas, the ratty, strung out kid in front of him was going to be the man he’d one day send to fix the wayward Church in Chimney Rock. The confidence of this statement wasn’t missed on Judas, who couldn’t help but beam from it, a big smile stretched across his face, his dimples showing.
“You might want to think about a nickname though.” Langstrom said. “How do you feel about ‘Jud?’”
“I think I can get used to it.” He said, trying it out. It felt like the first day of the rest of his life. The life of Father Jud Duplenticy.
———
“Who decides to name a child Judas, anyway?” She asked, snapping him out of his thoughts, and away from the ghosts that haunt them.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “No one asked me for my opinion before filling out the birth certificate.”
She shot him a look, which he returned with equal sass, before (thankfully) they both went back to filing.
“Judas..” she mumbled, testing the name out again on her tongue, sending another shiver down his spine. “It is kind of a pretty name, if you think about it…Judas… Ju-DAS…JUDE-is…”
So that night, when he laid, alone, in his bed, and he was imagining her underneath him, as he often did, he imagined her moaning out his name –
“Judas! Judas!!”
And he was too ashamed to admit to himself just how much he liked it. How much hearing his name, his real name, in her mouth did for him. It felt like a kind of intimacy he’s never known existed. A kind of closeness he’d never felt before. He was embarrassed at how quickly the thought had brought him to finish, her own name now spilling from between clenched teeth and ragged breaths.
And he was even more ashamed, when the time he saw her, she greeted him with a “Hi Judas.” and a cheeky smile,and he felt himself getting hard immediately, the thoughts from that night flooding in. She made sure to make a note of that, in case she’d ever wanted to really get under his collar, as if she was short of methods.
Since that day, she was determined to uncover as much of his lore as he’d allow, which was pretty much all of it, seeing as he’d have no reason to hide anything from her, and quite frankly he’s not sure anyone has ever taken enough interest in him to ever be asked. Some things were what you’d expect:
What’s his favorite color? What was his childhood like? What was his favorite food?
Green. Pretty normal, until his mom died. He’d get into trouble here and there, but nothing major and his grades were good. Then his mom passed away and things took a turn after that, but he’d consider himself to have had a pretty average childhood up until then. And his favorite food in the world, that one that he still gets cravings for all these years later, is this chopped cheese sandwich they’d used to make at this corner deli a few blocks from where he grew up. His mom knew the owner, Charles (but everybody called him Charlie or Chef because her was also the cook) and he’d always made his chopped cheese sandwiches, with cheese whiz, which is the only way Jud will eat them now.. He wondered if old Charlie was still around.
They had looked up the place to see if it was still in business, since it’d been almost 20 years since Jud’s had had his last chopped cheese there. It was! And based on their latest post online, looks like old Charlie was still behind the grill, all these years later. They made a plan to take a little road trip out the 3 hour drive to Jud’s old hometown, outside Albany, to show her around where he grew up, and to have what Jud claimed was “a life changingly good chopped cheese sandwich” whatever that meant.
Although the questions were all pretty innocent and surface level, that didn’t stop him from putting his foot in his mouth on more than one occasion.
“What’s your favorite cake flavor?” She asked him, on Friday afternoon, while they were baking cupcakes for her to take to her grandma and her friends at the retirement home. “Are you more chocolate or vanilla?”
“Hm, I think I’m more of a vanilla kinda guy.” He said absent-mindedly, his focus on setting the timer for the correct time, double checking the old recipe card of her grandma’s for her famous double chocolate fudge cake.
“—hm. Darn. Well that’s good to know, but what about for cake?” This caught his attention. He blinked, head still down, eyes on the recipe card in front of him, but the contents long forgotten as he replayed the last 30 seconds of conversation in his head and his brain short-circuits as it hits him what he just said. He doesn’t know what to say next.
Does he clarify, and risk digging himself into a deeper hole? He knows how easily she’d be able to corner him into a deeper look into his…um, preferences.
He thinks back to the dream he had a few nights ago. Didn’t seem very vanilla to him…
“I’m just messin’ with ya!” She laughed, taking the card out of his hands and going over to the oven to set the timer. She turns around after it’s set and leaning against the counter says. “I knew you weren’t the vanilla type that way.”
“Oh yeah? What makes you say that?” He knows he’s pointing the bear by asking, but she always knows how to peak his curiosity. He raises a brow at her, but he can’t hide his embarrassment. She gives him another smirk, crossing her arms in front of her.
“The way you responded just now when I said that.” She said. His jaw dropped. Her grin was off the charts smug now, as she licked leftover batter from a spatula. He had never been so jealous of a spatula.
So, figures, today would be the first Friday since they started this routine of theirs, that she didn’t come knocking on his door bright and early, with two hot drinks and a bag of bagels from the coffee shop down the street from her place. That they weren’t filing paperwork together, or running errands, and she wasn’t firing off questions at him like: “What kind of music does he like? What books are on his reading list? What’s a bad habit he wishes he could kick?”
No, today, he woke up to two notifications on his phone:
A text from her that read: “Morning! I’ve got some stuff I gotta take care of this afternoon, so I won’t be by until later. Will you be around?”
And a calendar notification that marked: “birthday”
Sigh. His birthday, right. Another year. Another rotation around the sun. Another grey hair in his beard, with not much else to distinguish one year from another.
Jud had never been a fan of his birthday. He never liked the attention, although that was less and less of a problem as he got older, having less and less people to celebrate it with. In a way, it was exactly what he wanted, for it to pass like any other day would. But it never failed to leave behind the reminder, that even if he had been the type to want a fuss over his birthday, there’d be no one to fuss over him. The sting of it always left him itching for some kind of distraction, to pick back up old habits, ones he knew wouldn’t help fix it, but that he longed for anyway.
For some reason, he’d let himself believe this birthday wouldn’t be just another day, especially since it happened to land on a day that’s been the highlight of his week for months now. Even though he knew she wouldn’t know it was his birthday, having never told her, and her having somehow never brought it up during one of her games of twenty questions, he thought just spending it together was enough for him to consider it the best birthday he’d probably have in years. But today he was back to his old Friday days, the ones before her, the ones where the silence and solitude enveloped him, his thoughts serving as his only company.
He was right in a way though, today wouldn’t be like just any other day…today would be worse.
He wasn’t sure if Wicks choosing today to stay and ‘help’ Jud around the church was just a coincidence or if Wicks just didn’t want to miss an opportunity to make Jud’s bad day worse. Either way, he had succeeded in making sure this birthday was unlike any other Jud had had.
“So yeah, then the other night,” Wicks continued, leg crossed, resting one ankle on his knee, his tone so nonchalant as he continued subjecting Jud to all the new and disgusting ways he’d gotten off since his last confession. “I was in bed and I had started to think about that one girl, oh what’s her name? You know, the one that keeps hanging around here. Oh what was her name?”
Jud felt his eye twitch, and Wicks, who didn’t let it go by unnoticed, knew he had struck a chord with Jud, and started to drive the knife in further.
“Oh well, you know who I mean.” He said with a wink. Jud’s jaw was clenched. “Yeah, so there I was in bed, when she popped into my head. She was wearing that slutty little number she wore to service that one day – you remember, don’t you? It was the white dress, with the short skirt. I mean, what a number that was, wasn’t it. Don’t tell me you didn’t see it! I mean her tits were practically out. Come on, even you can’t say you didn’t notice. You’d be blind not to.”
Jud thought about hitting him. He wondered if it’d feel better to go for the gut or his smart mouth. On the one hand, the gut would leave a less visible trace of his actions, but on the other hand, it was his mouth of his that was currently painting the graphic image of what Wicks’ had fantasized of doing to her, of getting off to the same thoughts that Jud had, of the love of his life naked and overcome with pleasure and of moaning out a name that wasn’t his…that’s wasn’t “Judas”
“—And then I couldn’t help but picture her…bending over…and me–” He continued, twisting the knife further until Jud felt like he was ready to call it. To admit his defeat to Wicks, turn his back to the church and his vows, and beat this asshole into a pulp. He stewed on the idea, imagining how freeing it would feel, to not worry about the consequences of the Church hearing of their problem child beating yet ANOTHER fellow clergyman to bits.
He let himself escape into the day dream. Of beating Wick’s teeth in, of packing his bag, of the look on her face when he’d pull her into his arms, in broad daylight, without any fear of someone seeing, and proclaiming his love to her, as he’d never been able to do, without holding anything back. He thought of finally feeling her body against his, without any barriers, physical or mental, to keep him finally getting to taste what he could only imagine, was the sweetest taste on earth.
When he was done, Wicks looked impressed with himself, seeing the veins popping out of Jud’s neck, jaw tight, eyes blown wide with barely contained rage. He gave a look that said “Your turn.” much like the look she had given Wicks that Sunday, that had apparently left him feeling hot under the collar.
“Five Hail Mary’s.” Jud said, through clenched teeth,
“That’s it?” Wicks said, brow raised, his tone giving away his disappointment. Jud didn’t respond as he threw down the sash on the bench and stormed off towards the rectory, to the nightstand, by his bed, where he kept his emergency stash, the one he’d told himself he’d never need again, that he’d never hand another of, and yet kept around. He was glad now that he had.
—----------
Wicks had left for the evening shortly after that, having grown bored with torturing Jud, he’d gave a cheerful “Don’t wait up!” as he headed out the door, leaving Jud alone at last. Just him and the rectangular box in his pocket.
Which is how she found him, having followed the distinct smell, behind the Church, leaning against the exterior, with a scowl on his lips and a cigarette between his fingers. He had just taken a drag when she turned the corner, his head back, eyes closed, as he blew smoke up into the early evening sky. He hadn’t seen her yet, so she had a moment to take in the whole scene in front of her, before he’d be caught and try to quickly conceal his illicit activities.
“Well, well, what do we have here, Judas?” She asked, expecting to make him jump and scramble to explain himself, as she’d come to expect. So, it caused her to worry a little, when instead, he slowly opened his eyes, giving her a tired look to acknowledge her, before taking another drag, blowing more smoke up into the breeze.
He held the cigarette out to her in offer, she shook her head, and he shrugged putting it back in his mouth.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” She said, coming to lean against the wall beside him. She looked around to make sure they were alone. She couldn’t imagine the stir Martha would cause if she found out about Jud’s little habit. Was it a habit?
“I don’t anymore.” He said, tone flat, worn down. They both looked down at the small trail of smoke coming from his hand, now down at his side between them. He lifts it up again to take another drag. “I didn’t.. I hadn’t had one in years. I don’t even know why I still had this pack.”
The turned the thing in his hand, examining it.
“Guess it was for something like this.”
He sounded tired. She looked over at him. He looked back at her. He looked worse than he sounded. His eyes dull, the usual light in them was missing. The lines in his face turned into deep creases, a scowl on his face. She felt bad for him. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back.
“Aren’t you worried someone’s gonna catch you out here?” She asked. “That kind of smell will draw attention around here, you know.”
She nodded her head towards the rectory.
“I wish they would.” Jud said, as he put the cigarette to his lips one more time, breathing in deep, before flicking it in the same direction, towards the rectory, and pulling the pack out of his pocket, taking out a new one.
She stops him, taking both the pack and the cigarette he’d just pulled out of it, both in her hands. He doesn’t put up much of a fight, only turning to shoot her a look that says “Really?”
“What’s going on?” She asked, snatching her arms back as he tried to reach for the stolen carton. “Seriously, you don’t mean it.”
“I do.” He said, catching her wrist and holding it, gently, but firm, while the look each other in the eyes, trying to see if the other will budge. She sighs and let’s the carton drop into his hand and he holds her gaze for a moment longer, before turning back to look out at the rectory, and going to retrieve a new smoke. She instead hands him the one he had already pulled out, the one she’d taken from him a moment ago. He gives her a nod, taking it from her. He put the pack back into his pocket and pulls out a lighter, cupping his hand around the flame, while he lights it. “I think I’m gonna quit.”
“Smoking?”
“The Church.”
“Shut up, you don’t mean that.” She says, looking back over at him.
“I do.” He looks over at her and his eyes tell her he's not lying. “I’m serious. I’m just so over it. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here… I’m not helping anyone… And I’m just so worn out… And listen – I’ve been doing some thinking on it…and I’ve had a come to Jesus moment…like – another one.. You know what I mean…”
“So you’re just giving up? You don’t mean that.” She says, knowing this doesn’t sound like him.
“I do.” He says, with the cigarette between his teeth. “Like I said, I’ve just had a sudden revelation, like this isn’t what God wants for me.”
His words, while not completely unreasonable, didn’t sound like they came as a result of some gentle soul searching, the way he flung them around like insults – They sounded bitter. Something’s happened today, and it’s got him in a bad spiral, and he’s not thinking straight. And he’s about to ruin everything he’s worked so hard for…. over a pack of smokes.
“Come on. You can tell me all about your great revelation in the car.” She goes to pull his hand. She needed to get him out of here before Martha or Samson came back and saw their beloved priest taking a smoke break behind their sacred church. That might send Martha into a coma. Besides, she had something that might cheer him up. “Let’s go! I have something to show you…”
He didn’t respond, but he blew out another thick puff of smoke. She tugged on his hand.
“Come on, you can bring your smokes along, Popeye.”
And with that he let her tug him towards her car, into the passenger seat, where she opened the window so the smoke could dissipate into the evening air, as they made their way down the familiar path towards her place.
—---------------
“ –Like why, why keep pushing, keep trying to help here, if it only pushes them further away from the message?” Jud asks, as they’re walking up the steps to her front door. He’s been telling her his reasoning for deciding to quit the Church, during the drive, window open to let the smoke out. He was still talking when they got to her house. He’s really stewed on this for a bit, it seems. “If they are so dead set against me, that they are set on opposing everything I try to do, then by me trying to bring them closer to HIM, am I not pushing them further away? Would I be more helpful to him, if I just put aside my pride, my own hubris, and let these folks be, to find their own way back to his love and his message?”
She unlocked her front door, turning around to look at him before they went in. He looked up at her. His eyes were frantic and a little intense. She could tell this was really eating him up. Something BAD must have happened for him to be this way. She felt even worse for leaving him alone today, of all days. She hopes he thinks it was worth it in the end.
“Jud,” She starts, grabbing his hands, which were looking for his lighter. She holds them and makes him look at her. He looks down with his frazzled expression. “I’m sorry, it sounds like you’ve had a rough day. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
She sees the change in his expression, as he’s about to tell her it’s not her fault, but she pulls a hand away to turn the door.
“No, no, don't say that. It’s not you. I don’t expect you to –” He starts, throwing his head back and firing up to continue his downward spiral, when suddenly his eyes catch sight behind her, into her house.
He stands there, dumb founded, at how she… when did she…how? She looks at him, the biggest smile he’s ever seen stretched out across her face, before grabbing his hand, and pulling him inside.
Inside the softly lit living/dining room, balloons littered the floor and hung, taped up, in corners. On the table, a cake, homemade – vanilla, if he had to guess – with frosting and rainbow sprinkles, and a “Happy Birthday, Jud” written in green icing. Next to the cake was a beautifully wrapped gift box with a comically big bow on it, and a couple of large brown paper bags, with stains on the bottoms. Not as well wrapped as the box with the giant bow on top, but the smell in the air, that he assumed they were the source of, filled him with instant recognition of just how significant their contents were.
As they slowly made their way to the display, Jud looked down at her, then back at the table, and then her again. She was beating up at him, giving his hand a little squeeze as she reached up to whisper in his ear.
“You didn’t think I’d miss your birthday…did ya?” She asked, teasing him. He looked down at her. He couldn’t hide the tears in his eyes. He looked back at the table. The brown paper bags, the ones he was sure were the same ones he used to…
“ –Is that?” He asked, looking down at her. She saw him point to them, and nodded her head, biting her lip with excitement.
“Mhmm.” She said. “A Chopped Cheese, made just how you like it, with Cheese Whiz, by good old Charlie himself. Said he made it with a little added flavor, no extra charge, just for you..”
Jud laughed at that…and that made her laugh as well.
“He told me that’d get a laugh out of you!” She exclaimed. “Guessing it was some kind of a running joke.”
He nodded his head, smiling with the tears still in his eyes.
“I hope you’re not mad I went without you.” She apologized. “I am still down to take a trip out there together like we talked about… I just wanted to surprise you with your favorite food for your birthday.”
“This…” he looked downed at her. “This is the kindest, most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me..”
“You deserve it.” She said, with conviction. He could hear it in her voice, she truly believed that. He didn’t know if he agreed, but it made his heart swell more as he continued to take it all in.
“How’d you know?” He asked, trying to keep calm while he took it all in. His nerves were still on the fritz from the day he’s had, and his existential crisis, the sudden nicotine buzz to his system, and now this sudden 180 on his day, had him feeling like he was losing his center of gravity.
“I saw it on that form, right after the name JUDAS–”
She didn’t get to finish her teasing, because his mouth was on hers in an instant, hungry and commanding. Not like the kisses they’d shared previously, which were always tender, slow, savoring every taste and feel of one another. There was no delicately tracing the contours of her lips, no, not when he was trying to mold them to his, to try to fuse them so perfectly together.
His hands pulled her in by her hips, groaning into their kiss as he gave her hips a rough squeeze, making her accidentally grind against him. He finally lets her pull away just an inch to catch her breath, continuing to paw at her hips.
“I love you.” He whispered against her lips. “I love you, I mean it. You’re better than I ever deserve and I don’t know how I got so lucky…You’re..just”
“Stop it!” She giggled, playfully batting at his chest. “You get a guy one chopped cheese sandwich and he’s ready to give up his vows and quit the church…”
This stops him. He looks down at her seriously again.
“I’m serious about that part.” He told her, the storm brewing behind his eyes again. “I’m gonna talk to Langstrom Monday. I’m gonna apologize and explain the situation to him, and hope he’ll forgive me for the decision I’ve made, but it is my decision and I have decided.”
“Don’t you want to think this over a little longer?” She tried to reason with him. “It sounds like you might be rushing into something…What happened today?”
“Why are you trying to talk me out of this?” He asks. “ I thought you’d be happy about this… that now we didn’t have to…”
“Jud…” She sighed, when he tapered off. “I don’t want you to throw away your life’s work because of this…”
She puts her hands on his chest.
“I think what we have, we can make work however it needs to.. What it needs to be. If this is beginning to interfere with your work.. I can… we can…take a step back. Or we can end–”
“No!” he interrupts her. “Don’t you dare say it.”
He pulls her in, enveloping her in his arms, her words striking fear into his heart. He was afraid she’d disappear. That he’d wake up, alone in his bed in the rectory, to find this had all been a dream. His arms tightened around her waist.
“Ok, ok.” She said, patting him on the back gently, trying to talk him down from the edge of a full blown panic attack. “I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s going to be fine.”
This wasn’t how she’d planned this evening going. She pulled away from him slightly and said the one thing she knew she shouldn’t have.
“Hey, you look like you could use a drink.”
—------------------
All the questions she’d been probing him with made sense now. The vanilla birthday cake, the gifts she got him: a dystopian novel he’d mentioned wanting to read, a thrifted mug with “#1 Father” printed in cheesy font over a badge on both sides (This one earned her an eye roll, but he couldn’t keep his smile from giving away his amusement.) and a hand knit quilt, made by her grandmother, exactly like the one he’d come to love, from her couch. The only difference being that this one was made in a deep shade of forest green – his favorite color, he’d told her, a couple Fridays prior.
She was so clever…and sneaky…and kind…and beautiful…
“What are you thinking about?” She asked, coming back after cleaning up the leftovers from their chopped cheese dinner (He was correct, they were insanely good.) She handed him another short glass of amber liquid, which she knew would be a bad idea, but Jud had decided tonight was the night of bad decisions, and as he was both an adult, now solidly into his thirties, and the birthday boy, she had no reason to oppose him if that’s what he wanted to do. If he could not be convinced against it, why not make the best of it.
“We could just do this..” He said, when she plopped down on the couch beside Jud. His arms snaked around her to pull her closer to him. She was practically in his lap now, as he ran his hands down the sides of her face, looking up at her with hazy eyes. “Every night.”
“I don’t know.” She said. “I’m not sure if I could handle that much cheese every night.”
“You know what I mean.” He says. She sighs, and gives in. If he was really set on going through with this, then they’d have to talk about it. She was just hoping they could wait until after his birthday. But he’s the birthday boy, so–
“Yeah.” She concurred, melting into him. “We could..”
“Isn’t this nice?” He asked, with hopeful eyes and searching hands. “Don’t you want this too?”
“You know I do.” She said, playing with his curls, trying to smooth them back into place. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He looks almost annoyed when she stops.
“Then what the hell are we doing all this back and forth shit for?” He asks. She was already starting to regret giving him another drink. She should have known better, but in her defense, she didn’t expect this new ‘damn it all’ attitude of his to affect her as much as it had. She kinda liked seeing him really letting loose, not just from the alcohol, like he had the time before, when they first officially crossed into this new stage of their relationship, the most confusing one yet, until whatever the hell this was now. This letting loose felt like it was a long time coming, it felt serious, no matter how much she tried to deny it.
“It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong.” He said, and she shot him a look that said ‘Now you know that’s not true’ and he threw his hands in question. “What? Come on, you know what I mean.. If you cut out all that..”
By ‘all that’ he means the vows he made to him and GOD. She rolled her eyes at him. Reminded, that this wasn’t the ration Jud talking. This rationale was brought to you by alcohol and burn out. But still he continued.
“Like at the end of the day. What? Is it not human to want to be with someone? That two people could be in love… you do love me, don’t cha?”
“No, I just drive 6 hours to pick up sandwiches for any pair of sad puppy dog eyes that come my way.” She rolled her eyes again, and he gave her a playful tap on her ass, making her eyes widen at his boldness. He just gives her a smug smile in return, finally giving her a taste of her own medicine. Unfortunately, they were playing with fire, and both too stubborn to know when they should fold.
“God, you’re such a smartass sometimes, you know that?” He says, pretending to be annoyed with her. She doesn’t fold, instead, opting to further push his buttons, her own frustration adding to the tension between them.
“What’s wrong Judas?” She teased, readjusting so she was better positioned in his lap, carefully lowering herself to be seated perfectly angled to tease him into oblivion, while she pressed her forehead to his, and looked him right in the eyes. “Frustrated? Was someone hoping for a different kind of Birthday treat?”
“Why? Is someone offering?” He asked, calling her bluff. This caught her off guard, and he used the opportunity to guide her hips to grind back down against him. The sudden jolt sends a shiver down her spine, as she moans out his name, sounding every bit as sweet as she’d sounded in his dreams.
“Say it again..” He breathed, repeating the action. She responded with another moan.
“Oh Judas..” She cups his face in her hands as she crashes her lips to his now, her turn to be desperate.
She grabbed at his shirt, trying desperately to peel away the layers. He caught on to what she wanted, and jumped in to help her, before either one of them could come to their senses enough to stop this. He thought back to earlier that day, how he’d thought of exactly this, when he’d tried to tune out Wick’s confession…when he talked about her–
“You’re perfect, you know that?” He said, pulling off his collar and making quick work of the buttons next. He gave her dress a little tug, followed by a light tap on her thigh, signalling her to take it off, while he hurried to remove his own shirt, so he could assist her with hers.
All the confidence she had when she had been teasing him moments ago, was gone now, in its place, a bashfulness he wasn’t used to seeing on her. She sat in his lap, clad in just a matching set in pastel green, nervously biting her lip.
“I swear, I wasn’t planning on seducing you tonight.” She said, as he played with the little lace embellishments. He was painfully hard, straining against his zipper. She could feel it against her.
“Well, I’ll just be grateful for the night not going as planned then.” He said, taking in the view.
“God, you’re so beautiful.” He says, admiring her. His eyes ran down the curves of her, trying to commit every detail to memory. He didn’t want to forget a single freckle, not one contour of her shape.
This was really happening. It didn’t feel real. The alcohol was making it all feel like a dream. He couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t. Oh god it felt too good not to be. This was too perfect.
Her hands running down his exposed chest, her breath against his neck, the alcohol, the adrenaline, it was suddenly all too much, so when he feels her softly whisper
“Do you want to take this to bed…Judas?”
He can’t hold back, pulling her tight against him and moaning into her shoulder and he bucks his hips up into her. Realization washes over him, as the high finally subsides, and he’s left with the mortification of his body’s betrayal.
“Did you just…?” She tapered off her question. She didn’t need to finish it — one of them already had. He nodded, head hung partially in embarrassment, partially from the pleasure still coursing through his veins, enjoying the tingling sensation that buzzed through him.
“Sorry,” He looked up at her, with an apologetic expression. “It’s been a while. I wasn’t expecting to…”
He sounded like he was coming back to his senses now. He sounded more like the Jud she knew, the one that can be reasoned with.
She cupped his face, smiling at him, his eyes blown wide with love or lust, didn’t matter which, it was all for her. She could see whatever she wanted and it wouldn’t be a lie.
“You don’t have to apologize.” She assured him. “I’m flattered, actually.”
A pause.
“Sounds like you really needed that.”
He shakes his head with a laugh.
“You have no idea.”
“Well,” she dipped her head down to look him in the eye. “Guess this means we can just keep the tension going a little longer, right?”
He throws his head back against the back of the couch, while she bounces in his lap one more time before throwing her arms around his neck and leaning in to cuddle into his chest.
“The next time...” She purrs into his ear, the sound of it had him practically ready to go again, until the second part of it registers in his hazy mind. “You come to me, saying you’re ready to throw in the towel, put this life behind you… you’re not gonna do it with your tail between your legs. Do you understand?”
He nods his head. She was right. He was about to let a bad day, as awful as it was, it wasn’t worth throwing in the towel for. As much as he meant it when he talked about ‘them’ he knew the rest of it was just Wicks getting under his skin. He was about to let his own frustration take him down.
Once again, he was grateful for her, for more reasons than he could ever explain. Thankfully, with her he didn’t have to.
“And the next time,” she continued, her tone shifting slightly. “We start going down this path again.”
She traces a finger down his bare flesh, down his abdomen, stopping just shy of his pants. She feels the shiver run through him.
“I want you sober.” She gives him a sharp look. “If we’re going to do this. Any of this. We’re going to do it RIGHT.”
She looks him dead in the eyes, and he can tell by her expression, she’s serious, and she means ALL of it.
“Do I make myself clear?” She asks, voice steady and stern. She needs him to know this will not happen again otherwise.
She will not be a consolation prize.
She’s not a back up plan.
She is not going to be some drunken mistake.
If he’s going to choose this, he’s going to do it in his right mind and of his own volition. He’s gonna have to face the truth, dead sober and in the light of day.
He nodded. He understood. She wanted him to choose her. Not just when it was easy, but when it would be the hardest to.
God, give him strength.
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this fic and want to make my day, drop me a comment!
JUD'S NAME IS JUDAS YES!!!!!
this just keeps getting better and better 🙏🏻
I'm the anon losing it over Blanc's name being "blessed" and I come back with something else that has me going insane.
I've seen people make compilations of Jud holding his hands together or putting them behind his back to appear as non threatening as possible, and I know is a popular idea that he sees his hands as weapons (which they are, he's a former boxer), but I never see anyone include the scene in the bar were he's drunk and apologizes to Nikolai in the tiniest, saddest voice by saying "I'm sorry. I broke that... With my hand" while looking directly at said hand like it betrayed him. The pause, the face, the voice. This man is so full of guilt, is no wonder he ended up in the claws of the Catholic Church.
Anyways, just to end up on another horny note, I know Blanc gets hot and bothered because Jud is, objectively, way stronger than him and yet ☝️ he can just throw things at him, throw him around, push him into cars, drag him by the arm, etc., with 0 resistance.
Oh~ The exciting appeal of having physical control of someone taller and stronger, and that could kill people with his fists ✊🙂↕️
thank you for once again delivering a great character analysis and making it horny in one fell swoop... that's what we're all about here on tumblr dot com forward slash judblanc
Jud is a puppy agenda stronger that ever
