Working on my Father Jud x f!OC and I'm trying to pick a face claim. Do you all have suggestions? I think I want her to have brown eyes and she'll be in her late twenties to early thirties.
Are you all more interested in a slower, longer story? I'm thinking stretching it out over the course of his full nine months (and then some) in Chimney Rock. Or a faster straight to the point, mainly smut, longing and shame (cause Catholicism)? I'm thinking five chapters set around the nine month point.
Please explain your answer. They both have different last names and don’t wear rings. The rings could just be to separate her further from Grace and her want of material things (in Martha’s eyes). Martha can’t live in the rectory and the only other building we see on church grounds is Samson’s home and I cannot imagine them living together without being married.
What's the first thing you wrote/posted this year?
I believe it was Chapter One of The Girl in the Woods. I think I focused on that story of most of the year.
What are you hoping to write in the coming year?
So many things, but right now, I'm workshopping a fic for Father Jud from the new Knives Out movie. It's in the first stages (my OC just now has a name), but I'm hoping to have it outlined and ready to post by February.
Did you receive any comments/reviews that stuck with you?
Yes! A few, but the one that stuck out the most was on a story that I started (and abandoned) in 2021. I picked it back up this year, rewrote it and finished. Someone told my it reminded them how much they loved the movie I was writing for, also that they were excited that I picked the story back up as they had started reading it in 2021.
🎊 what's the first thing you wrote/posted this year?
🎉 what's the last thing you wrote/posted this year? (or what do you expect it'll be?)
🎀 what's your FAVORITE thing you wrote/posted this year?
🔮 what are you hoping to write in the coming year?
⏳ what project(s) did you spend the most time on?
🧮 do you know how many words you wrote this year?
💡 what's a fun idea you had that you didn't have time to get to?
🏅 what are you most proud of accomplishing?
💌 did you receive any comments/reviews that stuck with you?
🪄 which project flowed like magic?
🔪 which project challenged you more than you expected?
🛠 is there anything you're hoping to improve on in the coming year?
📂 what's still in your wip folder?
📌 did you learn anything about yourself as a writer this year?
💬 what dialogue are you most proud of?
💭 what description(s) are you most proud of?
🎶 any music/playlists you listened to while writing?
🪅 brag about any project you want to! tell us why we should be reading it RIGHT NOW!!!
🎁 hype up one of your writing buds! what of theirs did you enjoy this year?
💞 HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
I feel like Jud fucks in the same way he took to that punching bag. It’s rough and aggressive, meant to get out frustration. Especially if there is a lot of pinning and tension that essentially bubbles over. Now, I also think if that tension is removed, he can be gentle and passionate. I think I’ll spend the next few weeks workshopping those ideas.
Warning: This is different than any other smut I've written. I'm trying out a new style. Also, I almost exclusively write with OCs and refrain from posting without developing them. I might give her a name and appearance in the future, but that'll come with an actual story.
Hope you like it.
She had no idea how they always ended up here. Pressed up against her grandfather’s workbench with his hand buried in between her thighs. One of her hands gripped his dark curls, while the other dug half moons into the taunt forearm that held him upright.
He didn’t shush the sounds that fell from her, though there was no need. After everything that had transpired, they were the only living souls left on the church grounds. He curled his fingers and her legs gave out, not that it mattered. Blasphemes and swears ghosted over her throat as he lifted her the rest of the way onto the workbench.
The strap of her nightgown slipped from her shoulder as his fingers continued to work to coax every sound and ounce of pleasure he could from her. His erection ground against her inner thigh, desperate and needy. She ran her hands down his chest undoing buttons as she went, before tugging forcefully at his belt buckle, slipping it from its confines.
His lips continued their travels south, nudging the top of her gown the rest of the way from her shoulders until the silky fabric pooled at her waist with the straps caught at her elbows. A growl formed in the back of his throat, though he barely had time to take in the sight of her, before tugging a nipple between his teeth, teasing the flesh with his tongue.
Her high built quickly as he worked, switching from breast to the other. Her hands stopped moving, too caught up in the feeling of his mouth on her to continue working their way into his black trousers. Stars danced across her vision and her mouth fell into a silent scream as her back arched and thighs shook around his hand. He grinned against her skin. His normal shy blushing smile, replaced with something more deliciously wicked and as always, she briefly wonders if this was what he’d been like before the church.
She barely had time to recover, before he yanked her off of the workbench. She didn’t mind though, once the pleasure faded the guilt would seep in and he’d be lost to her once again.
Her head was still spinning from her orgasm as he kissed her, hard and sloppy, juxtaposed with his rough fingers sliding the straps of the nightgown back up her arms gently. Most of his touches, when the teasing and tension became too much and they ended up entangled in a hurried passion, were bruising and rough. Though occasionally his touch would soften, reminding her of the caring, gentle priest she’d come to love.
The gentleness never stayed too long, though she didn’t want it to. She needed him, desperate and wanton, full of frustration and doing things to her that would make a whore blush. He needed her just the same, passionate and willing, full of desire and wanting him to use her in a way only he could.
She ran her hands back down his chest, slipping her hand along the front of his trousers, prompting a groan to leave him. He broke their kiss, twirling her around with ease. Quick hands pressing hips to the table and flipping the gown up over her ass. Swiftly, he shoved his pants down to the middle of his thighs and tugged his sweater over his head. Silently, it joined her panties on the garage floor.
His fingers danced over the flesh of her ass as he shifted her, the hand moving up her body pressing her down against the table while he lined himself up at her entrance. He didn’t warn her, entering with the ease and aggression of the boxer he once was, his hand tangling in her hair. She begged and he obliged, repeatedly pounding into her faster and harder until she could no longer form a sentence. The sounds leaving her torn between a moan and a whimper.
The feeling of her squeezing around his cock as she came again and the sight of her on her tiptoes, bent over the worktable with her mouth agape and tears on her cheeks, sent him over the edge. His hips pressed flush to her ass and his grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head from the table. Slowly, he released her, breathing heavily as he ran his hand soothingly along her back. She relaxed against his touch, the small circles coaxing her eyes closed. The hand came to rest gently on her ass, his thumb still moving softly against her skin. She whimpered as he pulled out, immediately missing the feeling of him inside her.
He flipped her gown back down and swore. She didn’t have to turn around to know he was running a hand over his face. She pressed herself up on her elbow, slowly lowering herself off of her tiptoes as the panic and guilt set in behind her. Her calves ached as she turned and leaned against the table. She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched him panicking. Catholic guilt in all its glory. Her regret always came later, long after he left and she laid alone in her bed.
Despite herself, she ran her eyes across his bare chest. Catching her gave, he blushed and scooped his sweater from the floor, tugging it over his head quickly. She almost laughed. They’d been caught in this pattern for months. Tension and pining, passion and pleasure, guilt and shame, only to cycle back to tension and pining.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently, moving back to her. Rough hands cupped her face, wiping the tears and sawdust from her cheeks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” she responded with a slight shake of her head, “I’m okay.”
Sighing, he pressed his forehead against hers, his shoulders tense and his face full of regret. Turning away from her, he sat on the loveseat, burying his head in his hands. Pushing herself off the table, she inhaled sharply at the immediate ache in her thighs. He didn’t look at her as she joined him.
She wanted to kiss him, to tug him back to her and promise him that it would be alright. Instead, she tugged her lip between her teeth and waited for the inevitable conversation. A beat passed and her name left his lips.
“We can’t keep doing this. It’s not right. You’re a member of my flock…”
“No, we can’t.” She knew it. He could be defrocked and she would be shamed out of Chimney Rock.
“I…I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this.”
“Jud, you’re not…” she began, reaching out for his hand as she spoke. He flinched at her touch and stood from the couch.
“Sorry…I’m sorry…I…” he panicked, hitting the button to raise the garage door. “I should go…I shouldn’t have come.”
He left with the briefest goodbye and she rose to close the door behind him, before she sunk back onto the loveseat, staring at the black screen of the old television. Her thighs ached and her hips were bruised. She’d be sore at Mass tomorrow. A subtle change in her walk, possibly unnoticeable to most, but not to him. A gentle, distracting reminder of their night.
The beginning of the cycle would start once again. He would pretend he hadn’t fucked her hard enough that she couldn’t remember her name and she would offer him the same innocent smile though she would spend most the time on her knees imagining a much more fun form of worship. Slowly, the guilt would fade and the tension would build, during Mass during times of prayer, in the office as she helped with the books, during the evenings when she dropped off his supper, in church when she rehearsed the organ, until neither of them could take it any longer.
Tonight, though, she would return to her room, clean up and cry herself to sleep.
The lyric "And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever" is so Arvin/Ally coded that it drives me insane. One touch and suddenly everything and everyone else is dull in comparison.
Summary: Allison Hartford's world is turned upside one random Friday afternoon. She wants nothing more than to get her life back to the way it was prior to showing up at the Russell's front door. However, after spending quality time with a certain boy, she finds not all the changes in her life are bad.
Warning: canon typical violence, infidelity, smut in later chapters.
Read on AO3
Read Next Chapter: here
The Girl in the Porch Light
Thursday, September 23, 1965
Any other night, Arvin would be cautious, terrified that Mr. Hartford would exit the house at any moment, but tonight was goodbye and he damn sure wanted to make it count. He wanted to make sure that Ally knew exactly what she meant to him. So, he pressed her back against the outside of the house and kissed her until it was hard to breathe, only to catch his breath and do it again.
Emma had finally left her room, but as of the previous week, the last week for him to find a place in Chicago, before it became flooded with students, neither he nor Ally felt comfortable leaving her with just Earskell. They’d talked about it for hours, days, then weeks. Earlier that night, Ally had floated the idea of him leaving with her when she came back home to visit and he hadn’t the heart to tell her that was no longer an option.
He almost felt grateful that Emma had been so upset, telling Ally that was why he’d grown distant since September had reared its ugly head and the Sheriff had shown up at the field with news of Lenora’s baby. He didn’t tell his grandma, not sure the news wouldn’t push her over the edge. He’d considered telling Ally. He had wanted to ask if she had any idea about who’d been taking advantage of her, but he managed to work that all on his own. They’d both been stressed enough waiting to find out if he’d have to marry her sooner than intended after their unprotected night in her bedroom, but she’d told him last Wednesday that they were in the clear.
“Maybe you should come back inside,” Ally muttered, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him from kissing her again as they caught their breath. He shook his head. He didn’t want to go back in that house. It’d been hard enough sitting with her family all evening, knowing that by the time she got settled into her dorm room in Illinois, he'd have broken her heart once again.
He’d spent the previous night writing her a letter, explaining everything that he couldn’t say to her face. Took him seven discarded drafts and several hours of staring at the picture of the two of them he’d taken to keeping in his wallet, while he debated saying fuck it and asking her to run away with him, before he finally sealed the envelope, hiding it in her bag when he showed up to dinner. Knowing that if she said yes that she’d grow to resent him, kept his tongue at bay.
Ally smiled up at him and he knew he was staring, trying to memorize every detail of that smile. He felt nauseous, after tonight, he’d never see that smile again. She ran her fingers across his cheek and he leaned into her touch. She furrowed her eyebrows and asked, “Arvin, are you okay? You’re bein’ rather strange tonight.”
“It’s our last night,” he told her with a shrug and she shook her head.
“For now. I’ll be back to visit in a few weeks,” Ally reassured him, before lowering her voice and adding, “then you can spend the weekend showin’ me exactly how much you missed me.”
Arvin didn’t respond, merely cupping her face and capturing her in another breathtaking kiss. Slowly, he pulled away and took her hand in his, before twirling the plastic ring around her neck. Leading her to the porch swing, he took a deep breath and said, “I got somethin’ for you.”
“I didn’t know we were doin’ goodbye presents,” Ally pouted at him. “I would’ve gotten you somethin’.”
“You’ve already given me everythin’ I could want, Ally,” Arvin muttered, flushing red, before looking her in the eye. “I just wanted to replace that plastic ring ‘fore you left. I know you said that you didn’t want me to go and buy you somethin’ new and fancy, so I didn’t. I know it probably won’t fit, but neither did the blue one, and you prefer somethin’ that means somethin’ to us, so I figured-”
“Arvin,” Ally said gently, cutting off his rambling and he nodded gratefully at her as he pulled the ring from his pocket. He hadn’t wrapped it this time, no box or old newspaper, just the old, simple, gold wedding band glistening in the porch light.
“It was my mama’s,” Arvin said softly, placing the band gently in the palm of her hand. Swallowing roughly, Ally shook her head.
“Arvin, I can’t…I mean it was your mama’s.”
“Now it’s yours,” he said, cutting her off as she opened her mouth to protest once again. “I want you to have it, Ally. I love you and I-I think she would’ve too.”
“Arvin,” Ally whined, wiping her eyes roughly, “you’re not supposed to make me cry tonight. We’re supposed to leave tonight happy and desperately in love.”
“I wouldn’t be givin’ you this if I wasn’t desperately in love, darlin’.”
Ally nodded and said, “I don’t want you to go tonight.”
“Ally…”
“I ain’t askin’ you to leave with me in the mornin’,” she said quickly. “We both know why you can’t, but…”
“Draggin’ out this goodbye ain’t gonna make it any easier,” he told her, knowing damn well she could ask anything of him tonight and he’d say yes, say anything to make her happy, “but if you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”
“I love you so much,” Ally muttered as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.
Pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her, he rocked them gently in the swing. His world grew blurry as tears rushed him and for the briefest moment he thought to keep up the bravado, to bite back the tears, not wanting one of her last memories of him to be of him crying, but it wasn’t as if it was the first time she’d seen him cry, so he let them fall. He rubbed her back soothingly, knowing that by the time she lifted her head, his new shirt would be stained with mascara.
“I love you too,” Arvin said, cursing the way his voice broke, “always will.”
“You better,” Ally said, looking up at him with a sad smile. Wiping the mascara from her cheeks, he kissed her gently. She looked down at the ring in her hand, before saying, “It might fit?”
He knew it wouldn’t, not on the finger he wanted her to wear it on. Still, he lifted it from her palm and turned her hand over, his own shaking slightly as he slipped it onto her left ring finger. The nauseous rushed him again as she smiled down at the loose ring.
He always said that she was going to be the death of him, he just hadn’t realized it would be the leaving that would kill him.
“You want me to put it on your chain?”
“No, I like it right where it is,” Ally told him and he sighed.
“Ally, it’ll slide right off.”
“It ain’t that loose,” she said, twirling it slightly. “A little string wrapped around the band and it can stay right here forever.”
“Forever…” Arvin repeated softly, prompting her to nod and grin at him.
“That’s how long you’re gonna love me, ain’t it?”
“Yes.”
His serious affirmation contrasted with her teasing question. She kissed him once more, before rising from the swing. The sun had set well over an hour ago, before long, he knew her daddy would be calling her to come in for the night, but watching her stand in the glow of the porchlight, that ring glistening on her left hand, he couldn’t let her disappear just yet.
“Can we take a ride? One last trip up to Jackson’s farm before you leave?”
“Let me tell Mama,” Ally said and disappeared into the house.
Arvin let his head fall in his hands, cursing himself. He had a plan. One last meal with her family and a memorable evening, and absolutely no dragging out their goodbye. Every moment in her presence made the whole damn situation harder. He lifted his head as the door opened expecting her to be standing in the porch light.
“Sir,” Arvin said, his eyes wide as he stood up straight.
“Calm down, son,” he said, waving for him to return to the seat, before taking the seat next to him. “She’ll be out soon. Her mama is just getting her some string. She’d hate to lose that ring so soon.”
Arvin didn’t respond. Not knowing what to say and not sure that she wouldn’t throw it in the creek the second she read the letter he left her. Mr. Hartford didn’t seem too perturbed by his silence.
“She loves you.”
“I love her,” Arvin said firmly and Mr. Hartford nodded.
“I’m sure you do, son,” he said and Arvin felt as if his eyes were boring into his soul, reading all the sins he didn’t want him to know, “but that car is loaded up and she’s leaving for Chicago in the morning. Nothing is going to change that. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Arvin nodded, his palms clammy and feeling a desperate need for a cigarette. “Ally’s been clear about her future, even before we started seein’ each other.”
Mr. Hartford chuckled lightly, muttering the name ‘Ally’ under his breath as he shook his head ever so slightly. “Allison’s had big dreams ever since she was a little girl. Bossy as all get out, I would tell her that she was made for management. I used to bounce her on my knee in my office down at the mine and let her ‘sign’ papers in my place. All of that is to say, Allison has always known what she wanted.”
“She’s nervous about how she’s gonna compete with the other students. She’s already two weeks ahead in her textbooks,” Arvin told him, grinning, “but she’s gonna knock ‘em dead. I know it. She’s got a whole schedule mapped out in that planner of hers. Ain’t nobody better at keepin’ focused than Ally. She had me quiz her everyday since you brought the textbooks back from the city.”
“You two have been spending a lot of time together the past couple weeks. I know you both had your struggles,” he responded and Arvin shifted uncomfortably.
“That seems like a bit of an understatement, sir,” he muttered, staring at his boots. “We lost a month and a half, ‘cause I was an idiot.”
“That’s the thing about love, son, it goes hand and hand with forgiveness,” Mr. Hartford said, offering him a cigarette, before lighting his own. “Besides, if I remember correctly, she cost you plenty of time in the beginning.”
Mr. Hartford laughed as Arvin choked on the smoke, before patting his back roughly.
“I didn’t know-How did you-” Arvin attempted to ask, but his eyes were still watering and his throat felt tight.
“She’s my baby girl, Arvin. Just because I spend plenty of time away doesn’t mean I don’t know what goes on in her life,” he told him as Arvin slowly began to feel as if he could breathe once again. “You think I don’t know you haven’t slept in your own bed in a month.”
“I-We ain’t-” he fumbled with the words trying to explain that they never slept together when he stayed at least not while her parents were home. Getting caught in her room would’ve been awful, getting caught in her room with his pants down would’ve ensured his death.
“Calm down, boy. If I thought you were having sex in my house, I’d have shot you ages ago.”
“Yes, sir,” Arvin managed to say, wishing Ally would hurry the fuck up.
Mr. Hartford laughed and patted Arvin on the back roughly. For a moment, the terrifyingly serious, larger than life man that Arvin always saw when he looked at Mr. Hartford faded and he saw where Chris’s mischievous, good nature came from.
“Just have her back by midnight, I don’t want her driving tired tomorrow,” he said as he stood from the swing and put out his smoke.
“Yes, sir,” Arvin agreed as Mr. Hartford opened the kitchen door.
“And, Arvin,” he said, a teasing grin on his lips as he glanced at him, “just park in the driveway tonight. Your car is killing the grass behind my shed.”
Ally furrowed her eyebrows as she slipped out the door with her mama. They looked between Arvin and Mr. Hartford, before Mrs. Hartford smacked his shoulder lightly and Ally scolded him.
“Daddy! I asked you to tell him that he could stay, not give him a heart attack.”
Mr. Hartford merely laughed and wrapped an arm around his wife, before pressing a kiss to her temple and saying, “We’ll see you in the morning, princess. And Arvin?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You keep your hands to yourself in my house.”
“Joseph!” Mrs. Hartford exclaimed at the same time Ally said, “Daddy!”
“Yes, sir.”
With a nod, he led the way back into his house, grinning as his wife scolded him lightly. Ally shook her head and sighed roughly.
“He can be so embarrassin’,” she muttered, grabbing Arvin by the hand and leading the way to the Bel Air. “I just thought you’d feel more assured hearing it from him.”
“I’m just glad he hasn’t shot me,” Arvin told her, using their linked hands to pull her to his chest.
Ally giggled as he kissed her neck, backing her slowly into the passenger side door of his car. Running her hands up his chest and wrapping them around his neck, she asked, “I thought you agreed to keep your hands to yourself.”
“I did, but we ain’t in his house yet.”
“You’re really in the mood to push your luck tonight,” Ally laughed. “You know you’re gonna see me again in a few weeks, right?”
Only he knew he wouldn’t. By the time Monday rolled around, he’d either be long gone or in jail. He knew he should tell her, prepare her, anything else would be taking the cowards way out. With a shake of his head, he kissed her again. One last good night and one more morning waking up with her in his arms, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, rob her of that, so he kept his mouth shut.
