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cvnt4him · 3 months

Note

Reader who got hit w a bunny quirk during a mission w izu please smuttt I love yew💋

I love you too bbg💕

This is actually like a great idea and I had the EXACT same one except izuku was the bunny. Yeah this one is way fucking better.

"don't be amused, it's just the news! This just in; we have more details about pro heros deku and y/n's fight with the new and upcoming villain; sphinx. A local has given us amateur footage of y/n getting blasted with sphinx's quirk! They have the ability to turn others and themselves into animals! Y/n has been out of the hero scene for a while, as far as we know with the information her close friend and partner deku has given us, she's going to be out of hero work for a while, they haven't found a cure or much of a loophole with sphinx's quirk. Next in a cat stuck in a tre---"

You shut the TV off with a groan of annoyance. Why hadn't this gone away yet? You've been like this for a week. A long, miserable, insufferable, week. You weren't alone, even if you wanted to be, izuku wouldn't let you. He felt guilty, he felt as if you were like this because of him. During your fight together he pushed you out of the way when a flying car had come your way, you'd known nothing about the villain upon fighting them. Izuku however, knew everything about the villain, he pulled his mask up before the fight even began.

Izuku always got in a certain head space when fighting whether it be a measly robber, or a very experienced and high tech villain. He always made sure he was ready and that morning could take him out of this state. He just wishes he had warned you beforehand of what the villain was capable of.

You look at your reflection in the black TV screen with a frown. You hated the way you looked. Two fluffy bunny ears standing tall before falling to either side of your face. Izuku walks into your room going completely unnoticed, he spoke and sat down your cup of water but his words falling into deaf ears.

"y/n...?"

His voice nothing above a whisper, sitting beside you while patting your head lightly. People always shipped you two due to the way he treated you, don't get me wrong hes nice to everyone regardless of who they are or where they come from. People just liked to do stupid shit in their free time so you never really took it to heart, mostly because izuku always avoided and shut down all questions that surfaced about you two during interviews. Saying he only saw you as a friend.

You turn to him slowly your sad eyes staring up at him. He sighs while giving you a sad look back, putting your foreheads together. He hadn't left your side at all besides when he and to work, but he made sure to come right back to your apartment to assure that you were alright. It's not like you were sick or anything because you weren't. You could walk, talk, shower, cook, and do everything just fine, but he insisted you do nothing he felt far too guilty to even allow you to lift a finger. He once apologized for you telling him you thought about cooking on your own.

He whispers an "I'm sorry" while your heads are together, you simply chuckle and try to smile. Your quirk had been disabled due to being transformed. There's always a loophole in quirks so why hasn't anyone found one for sphinx's quirk? It was weighing on you far too heavily for either of your liking. Izukus heart ached for you to get better, he hated seeing you like this, all sad and unable to do anything for yourself. You can but for some odd reason he thinks you can't do you just let him take care of you.

Izuku pulls away, putting his fingers in your hair and scratching your scalp, the soothing motion making you sigh and lay your head on his shoulder. He hums with a smile that didn't meet his eyes, he grabs the remote from you and puts on a movie, grabbing your cup of water to ensure that you are hydrated.

You both had fallen asleep on each other, his head on top of yours while you laid on his shoulder. You got up and stretched making him get more comfortable and turn his head to lay on a pillow beside him. You looked at him closely, admiring each and every freckle that littered his cheeks and slightly down his neck his chest moving up and down in a smooth rhythm. He looked so peaceful not having to worry and feel guilty for your current state. Your body moved on it's own, one of your hands moving to his chest rubbing up and down his body. He was very toned, you knew this you could practically see it through his new skin tight suit. It hugged his body deliciously.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him, his shirt was slightly raised and scrunched up ending just above his v line, the way it looked like it was sculpted by gods. He looked like a Greek god himself. His body was fucking hot.

Your tail wiggled and twitched against the bed light noise coming from the way it moved. You bit your lip lightly while looking down where his shorts hugged his waist. Your eyes kept trailing down his figure landing on where a tent in his shorts sat. He was completely flaccid yet his thick cock made a very visible print. Fuck this was really turning you on, he was completely unconscious and unaware of how you were fucking him with your eyes. Your hand moved down to his dick print and gently rubbed over it making him take a deep breath and breathe out slowly, you noticed this and continued your movements while staring at his face, a pink hue forming onto his baby-like cheeks.

You watched as he gulped and turned his head in your direction with a breathy and quick sigh, he was getting bothered by how you teased his semi erect cock. His brows slightly furrowed while you stopped your hands movements completely, his cock twitched against your hand making your eyes shoot down to his cock, seeing it fully erect and leaking slightly against his thin shorts. God this was such a sight, it was so fucking hot and lewd, you felt guilty for getting him all hot and bothered but seeing the way his cock twitched and bobbed up and down for your touch was hypnotizing.

Without thinking you hopped onto his lap you weight sitting on top of him making him shift under you, that was almost enough to snap you out of whatever trance he put you in but the way he put his hands on your thighs and rubbed them out you right back into the daze you never got out of.

Your tail wiggled against his thigh as you slowly grind into him, rubbing your clothes pussy against his clothed cock in a slow yet rough manner. a moan accidentally slipped out of your mouth when his cock rubbed against your clit in the best way.

You panted lightly as the grind of your hips started to quicken in pace, you dug your hips down into his to feel his cock press against you. A noise left his throat as he gripped your waist tightly, his grasp bruising your skin while pushing you down more into him. You didn't think about the fact that he might've woken up due to your moans and the way you moved helplessly on top of him. He rubbed his cock up into you to feel that light friction that had him dizzy.

You grabbed onto his shoulders and rode him like you were actually riding his cock. The thought alone of actually getting to ride his cock getting you to that building release. He moaned deeply before his eyes slightly opened and peered up at you, you were too busy in your own haze to acknowledge the way he looked at you, your fucked out face contorting in such a pretty way.

He couldn't believe you were using him while he was asleep, riding his clothed cock for all that it's worth. He bit his lip and flipped the both of you, a scream ripping right out of you as you look up at him with wide scared eyes. He could only look down at you with lust filled ones. His emerald orbs looking at every feature that painted your body, the way your thighs looked more plump because of your shorts. Your boobs spilling out the top of your tank top. You looked so good and the way you looked at him with those scree and glossy eyes went straight to his aching cock. He was so ready to split you in half on his thick cock, he knew you'd have a struggle but it'd be worth it just to be inside of you. He'd wait as long as he'd have to just to feel your pussy squeeze around his cock.

No words were said as he went in to kiss you, lightly pressing his dry but soft lips against yours. A moan left you as your tail wiggled underneath you, you were so horny and you could feel the way it ate you alive from the inside out, you were so close to crying from how much it burned inside of you.

"please.. please fuck me, I need it."

You whispered up to him with a raspy voice, whining as your eyes moved down to his cock, it looked like it was going to burst out of his shorts with the way it stood up proudly.

He smirked at you with lidded eyes while he kissed you neck, you closed your eyes and fell into the soft kisses being planted on your sensitive neck, he moved his kisses up to your bunny ears blowing on them lighting, the soft feeling of it all making your pussy throb and a whimper leave you lips.

He chuckled lowly to himself as he flipped you over into your stomach. He pressed his chest and his hard cock against your ass cheek as he whispered in your ear.

"using me while I sleep? naughty thing. poor bunny, must need it badly, hm?"

You nodded your head aggressively while rubbing your ass against his hard on, earning a low groan from the muscular man above you.his weight on you felt so good and it wasn't even sexual at all.

He slipped your shorts and underwear down in one swift move, he pulled his own down as he teased your dripping hole, slipping his engorged cock head in and out of your lips. Your eyes roll as you lift your ass in the air and wiggle against his cock. he's surprised by this, a chuckle leaving him while he pulls you back by your ears, a squeak leaving you while he slaps your ass.

"you're so fucking needy huh? this sopping wet cunny of yours dripping around my cock, hm?"

You nod again, not being able to speak due to your throat getting rather dry. He hums and slips his cock in halfway before taking it out quickly, this went on for about 5 minutes, the torture was so funny to him yet painful for you. You felt as if you were going to die, the heat forming inside of you burned badly. You needed release, finally being def up with his teasing, the second he tried to do it again you slammed your ass back onto him taking his cock fully, a choked moan leaving his pink lips.

He groaned loudly while lying his head on your shoulder with a smile, he was out of breath from you taking his cock fully. He chuckled against your skin while kissing it, he bit harshly on the skin of your shoulder making you scream while he thrusted vigorously into your soaked pussy, the squelching noises clouding his mind while he moaned into your ear and grabbed onto your bunny ears. The sensitive muscle being pulled painfully hard went straight to your throbbing cunt, the way he slammed his hips into you and hit that spot repeatedly was just enough to make you cum, but he knew you were going to by the way you started squeezing his cock for all he was worth, milking him and slicking his cock up with your fluid.

“A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.”

You command him while throwing your ass back, you were feeling too good you felt as if you weren't even in control, the way your body moved lewdly against him was inhumane and unlike you. You'd never felt the need to be near someone like this, like you yearned for his very touch, for him to cum inside of you. Oh. God that sounded so good, the thought of his warm thick cum spilling and spreading inside of you made you squeeze around his cock even more.

Just when you felt as if you were going to cum you felt the need leave. He had pulled out of your cunt with a groan, his cock twitched from the cold ajr hitting the leaky tip. He looked down at your pussy squeezing around nothing, god you were so fucking needy and that made him go feral. He could practically smell the delicious scent you released. Your tail twitched fastly, catching his attention. He had asked you before questions about your body and if anything felt different, he hadn't asked about your tails however, he was curious if it was sensitive. Out of pure curiosity he pushed his thick cock back inside of you, and yanked at your tails, his tight grip on your ears never leaving.

He used them to bring you back more into him. You let out a high pitched moan as your arms gave out, your body felt like it was on fire, throwing your ass back against him while your thighs burned from the work.

“fu— m'cum— cumming!!“

You couldn't control it, it just ripped out of you. The feeling was far too strong to hold back or even pretend not to acknowledge you groaned while sobbing, tears falling from your face due to the extra stimulation. He cooed in your ear, coaxing you through your orgasm while never letting you in the way he fiddled with your tail, his other hand leaving your floppy ears to go to your clit, rubbing it slowly while speeding up his hips.

"nngh~ izu— Izu-"

You couldn't speak from the immense pleasure, it began to hurt due to overstimulation. You sobbed and hiccupped against the pillows as he drilled his cock into you, he groaned and grunted behind you moans leaving his lips as well.

"shit...- fuck— god dammit, u/n I'm gonna cu- cum again.. shit take it, fucking take it all.."

Again?! He'd already came?? Maybe that's why you thought about his warm cum spreading and claiming every spot inside of you. Because he already did.

You couldn't move or even speak, the way he bucked his hips into yours, stuttering and rhythm becoming uneven. He threw his head back with a moan as he came again, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. He felt so good, your fluttering walks squeezing and convulsing around his soft turning cock.

He collapsed beside you without a word. His eyes closed as he tried to steady his breaths, he hasn't felt this good in so long, it's been a while since he'd last been with anyone. He took pride in his job, he'd wanted to be a hero since he was a kid, however it did take him away from a lot of things, including interacting with people and making new friends.

He needed this and he's glad you gave It to him. He turned to check on you to see you had already passed out, he rubbed your back lightly making you shiver underneath his touch. He got up to assure you were alright, making sure you water was refilled and that you could be clean, he grabbed a warm damp towel to clean you but before he did he got a good look at the two loads that were fucked into you, slowly oozing from your still convulsing lips. Fuck this was a sight to see, he was afraid he'd never get to see it again. He hates what he did but, he had to save this moment forever! A picture to remember this morning by! After all, you won't be a bunny forever.

AN: this was very fun to write actually, I've recently been in a chokehold w top!izuku there's something ab him being mean or js taking care of me that gets to me.

Dividers by @anitalenia

#cvnts-post #mha #mha x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #boku no hero academia #izuku is so girlie pop #cvnts-reqs #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #izuku smut #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #mha izuku #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader smut #deku

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mistymisfit · 2 months

Text

How he shows he loves you

Summary: 3 short blurbs on how Jason shows reader he loves them.

warnings: mentions of reader being kidnapped, but descriptions are very vague lol.

wc: 2k

a/n: This isn't edited at all, but it has been sitting on y drafts for wayyyy too long

Jokes

Disappointment is not the initial reaction he hoped for when he came in through your front door. Shock would've been a more appropriate response, since your music was too loud and you didn't hear him come in. He decided to pull a prank and scare you, silently making his way to the kitchen where you were having a karaoke session. Which given how quiet he could be when he wanted to, it was not that hard at all. Now Jason tries to hold back his laugh, a boyish grin plastered across his features that he wouldn't be able to suppress even if he tried.

"What are you making?" He whispers next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. If he was being honest, he'd say he is concerned about how long it takes you to notice there's someone else in your apartment. But right now, he's too caught up in the bliss of being in your presence that he can't bring himself to care.

"Oh, you're early." You say after the scream you let out when he comes up behind you, seemingly out of nowhere to whisper in your ear.

"Why? You're mad?" He replies, hiding his insecurity behind sass. What if you didn't want him there? What if he's overstayed his welcome? But before he can come up with some convoluted reason for why you don't want him anymore, you're stopping him.

"I just wanted to have this done by the time you got here" You signal back at the food with your head. And he looks over, finally realizing you were cooking his favorite meal.

"What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," You blush "Can't a girl just cook for her boyfriend?"

"Not unless she wants me to make her my wife," He teases, you roll your eyes, growing accustomed to these types of jokes. Once he reached a certain level of domesticity and was comfortable enough in the relationship, he started to talk about how he was gonna marry you. Jason would even jokingly refer to you as his wife. At first, he made you blush, now it was just the usual routine.

You would lie if you said it didn't excite you and make your feelings all mushy when he did that, your heart felt warmer when he showed how committed he was to you. You felt giddy whenever he said "When we get married", he never said if we get married, he was very certain about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he'd drop a detail of his dream wedding, "We're having a chocolate cake, like the one in Matilda" or "I'm kissing the fuck out of you on that altar". One time he said: "If you liked that, imagine what our honeymoon would be", that one got him a soft slap on his chest as you chuckled.

"How did you get here anyways?" You change the subject, going back to your cooking.

"Used the front door" He answers with a smirk, arms wrapping around your waist as he steps closer to you.

"Really? How?"

"Cause I'm your boyfriend," He replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he didn't need to say it like that. "I have been for a while, and you gave me your keys"

"Damn, my doorman just lets anyone in these days" You joke and you can hear the little "tsk" that comes from his mouth as he lets go of you.

"I can leave and come back from your window" He's kidding, but you know him well enough to know he's willing to follow through just for the sake of doing a bit. Instead, you hold his arm, pulling him back to you in between giggles.

"Please, I finally have boot imprint-free windowsills"

He laughs, it's real laughter, not his usual chuckle. It makes your heart work overtime as you watch his smile reach his eyes so much that he ends up closing them. He pulls you in for a kiss before he lets you go to finish the dinner you worked so hard on. The food that when he takes a bite from has him asking:"You want a summer or spring wedding?"

Touch

Even if he's less inclined to admit this, Jason knew that before you met he was touch starved. And now he can't get enough of it, he's constantly on your side or with his hands on you in any way, shape or form. It came as a shock--to him-- how badly he needed you sometimes, he never felt this about anyone before. He swears he's not usually this clingy.

You are walking down the street and suddenly you're not holding his hand or bicep and he's grabbing your hand and putting it back. He could never be one of those boyfriends who don't notice when their partner stops holding their hand, if you ever so that he's immediately holding your hand again and asking what's wrong.

Sometimes his touch is protective. You are going through a crowded space and he has his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you and making sure nothing ever happens to you. It turns a little too protective when another guy tries talking to you and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a kiss.

But most of the time, he's all alone with you, lying down on bed or a couch, and he's tracing shapes on your uncovered skin. He leans his head closer when you play with his hair or God forbid you touch his face, it has his knees giving out. He loves feeling your weight on top of him, loves feeling you're real and that you're with him and not going anywhere. Maybe he sneaks a hand under your clothes if he feels daring, and your attention doesn't shift. It amazes him how he's allowed this, how much access you give him. And over everything else, it doesn't have to be sexual. Casual skin to skin contact did not have to mean anything else; it was just that.

With you he's experienced that not every touch has violence behind it, not every contact has an ulterior motive. So he's so gentle with you, maybe he is not good with words, so he makes up for it. You know he shows his affection in action rather than words, he's not that far from worshiping the ground you walk on. He's specially kind when you know you're vulnerable; he presses kisses to your face as much as he can and to your shoulder blades when he can't. You know he's a big softy since you've pretended to be asleep multiple times as he played with your hair. An more than once you've heard him whisper hushed love confessions he never thought you'd hear. His hands are rough with criminals but you'd never be able to tell by how kind he's around you.

Priority

Jason wants you to know you can count on him for anything, he makes a point of it by telling you multiple times. You ran out of milk? He's buying it on his way to your place Your apartment needs fixing and your landlord won't help? Problem's solved within the hour. Maybe you got terrible cramps, he's there to help you however you want him to. So it's no surprise to you or anyone that the second you're in danger he drops everything else. You're his number one priority.

"Where is she?" He pushes Bruce for information, which he was adamant in not telling him. Knowing Jason, he'd end up acting before he thinks it through, he'd show up unprepared and end up causing a disaster. Or at least that is what Bruce thinks about the son who plotted his revenge against him for years to the last minute detail.

"Jason" He mutters under his breath.

"I swear to God if I find out someone touched a hair in her head because you wasted time-"

"You go with me or you don't" He threatens "at all."

And Jason loves you so much, he's willing to agree to work with him in a heartbeat. He puts all his resentment aside when he thinks it will help you, if it meant working with the bat and abiding by his rules, then so be it. He'll track down the poor fucker who took you and kill him later. He didn't like being around him, it made him feel tense due to the incredibly strained relationship between the two of them. Bruce loved Jason, but sadly his way of showing it translated quite the opposite way in the younger one's eyes.

Bruce was being too quiet about what happened to you. All he knew was that he couldn't reach you, you were not at any of the usual places, and your friends had no idea where you were either. He checked your apartment and things were perfectly placed, no one had broken in--other than him. Then when he tracked your phone, which he only promised to do in extreme situations like today, he found it inside your purse thrown in some dirty alleyway. That's when his panic hit its peak and turned back to get his red hood gear and ask the bats if they knew anything about you.

He got to a warehouse, standing next to Bruce he decides to push him a bit more to get anything out of him. His mind was killing him with questions, were you okay? what happened? how did he know? and couldn't bear another second next to the stoic figure not willing to tell him anything.

"It's Mad Hatter, he's been taking people off the streets for-"

"Is she okay?" He cuts off, he has no space in his mind for whatever crazy thing he had planned against Batman or the city. Not when he's not sure you're safe, when Bruce won't even tell him if you're alive.

"She should be" He gives in "I'll take care of him, you handle hostages"

That's all he needs, he braces himself before following after Bruce, watching every step he made as it could make the difference between losing you or saving you. Jason's a bit pissed he's relegated to hostages much like he was during his time as Robin but decides against questioning for now. He steps and breathes as quietly as he can while he makes his way past the sign that reads "Wonderland". He silently signals to Bruce that they should split and cover more ground, to which he agreed with a curt nod. His masks allows him to have a better vision in the dark, so he can see how filthy the place was and how worn down the wonderland decorations were. He doesn't know if the man was there, but knowing Bruce he sent him on a path he wasn't likely to find him alone.

He finally finds some of his hostages, two twins laying unconscious on the floor. He tried waking them up to no success; he saw their chests move up and down as they breathed, so he knew he could worry about that later. Moving further, he sees a couple more people, all dressed up as characters like the twins were, in the same state. He then moves to the tea party, where another two kids dressed as the animals in the book sat with their heads on the table. He picks one of them up and rests them in a more comfortable position on the floor using what he could to make a cushion for their head, then does the same with the other kid. He thinks it's the least he could do if he couldn't wake them up. After a nerve-wracking walk through Lewis Caroll's nightmare he finds you, he feels his soul getting back to his body when his eyes finally land on you.

You lay on a floor that resembles a chessboard wearing a white dress and a crown, a little blonde girl with a light blue dress is cuddled up on your arms. He kneels down next to you, whispering your name and grabbing your shoulder to shake you in an almost desperate attempt to wake you.

"Please, please" He's sure if someone could hear how pathetic he sounded, his reputation would be ruined forever.

"Jay?" You manage to mutter under your breath, still not opening your eyes.

"Yes, I'll get you out of here"

"Hm, hats" you hummed, he doubted you were even aware of anything.

"I know, baby"

"off" Your voice was low and it seemed to him that you were fighting to stay awake and losing.

He took off the crown from your head and the headband from "Alice's". Listening to your advice, even if you were barely conscious. Once he confirmed you were okay, he carried you out. Then he came back for the little girl next to you, and so on until everyone was out and hat free. By that time police had arrived, and Batman was handing Jervis' ass to the cops to begin the cycle once more. He holds back, watching from afar to avoid getting caught. He watched as Batman shared a few words with Gordon, then Barbara tuned in to let him know which hospital they were taking you to.

When you wake up he is next to you, holding your hand and with the biggest eye-bags you've ever seen him with. He almost starts crying when you call his name in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm okay,"You whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The scene is too touching as you see someone put a hand on his shoulder and tell him something.

"I'll go tell the doctors you woke up" He excused himself, reluctant even to let go of your hand, much less entertained by the idea of being separated from you too long.

You didn't see him as Jason's frame covered the man behind him but now you notice the one and only Bruce Wayne standing in your hospital room. It was too much to take in.

"Oh, Jason must really love me if he was willing to work with you"

#im so bad at titles 😭😭😭😭😭#btw if you see any mistake no you don't #ill edit tomorrow if i feel like it #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader fluff #red hood x reader #w: jason #jason todd fluff

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andvys · 1 year

Note

Hi!

Could I please request a virgin-Eddie cumming just from eating reader out. Maybe she complains to him that no guy is able to do it right and he's like "well, teach me and I'll do it right for you!" and it ends with him cumming because he enjoys it so much :)

You can have my everything E.M.

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! smut, virgin!Eddie, cunnilingus, idiots in love, friends to lovers

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Note: I know that there's a few virgin!Eddie imagines out there, I haven't read many but if this one is any close or similar to another one, please let me know and I'll change it right away

Word count: 3.5k+

stranger things masterlist

Eddie had noticed that there was something off about you lately, after yet another unsuccessful date a few weeks back, you finally gave up on trying to find the right guy. As much as he hates seeing you so sad and unhappy, he can’t help but feel relieved that you did. He always hated it, having to see you get all excited about the dates, having to watch you get ready, even helping you get ready, helping you pick out outfits for dates with other guys, when he wants it to be him.

You tell him about the dates, he gets every detail– well, not every single one. There are barely any secrets between the two of you but there still are certain things that you don't share with each other. His feelings for you are the biggest secret he kept from you and he doesn't plan on ever revealing them, he would never risk losing you.

There are things you don’t tell him, you don’t tell him about what you do with the guys, you don’t tell him whether you kissed them or not, you don’t tell him if you have slept with them or not– he doesn’t know why, but he does wonder -- do you not tell him because you secretly know about his feelings and want to spare him of the things that might break his heart or is it because you are too embarrassed to talk about these things, feeling scared that he might judge you? Another part of him wonders if you do anything with these guys at all– he hopes you don’t but the hickeys he saw on your neck before, proved otherwise. It filled him with jealousy and rage, it made his skin burn and his eyes too. He hated them, he hated every one of those guys that could touch you.

He knows he could treat you better than any of those pricks ever could, even with his lack of experience, he could do so much better than them.

“What’s wrong?” He asks as he finally shuts his notebook and throws it on his bed.

You look up at him from your magazine, raising your brows at him, “hm?”

“What’s wrong?” He repeats as he scoots closer to you, “you’ve been weird for days now.”

You furrow your brows a little, glancing down at the magazine, you press your lips together into a straight line, for a moment you are silent as you get lost in your thoughts. Eddie uses your distraction to admire you.

Here you are, sitting on his bed, wearing his shirt, like you do every weekend when you stay over, like you’re his girl.

“You’ve been really frustrated and snappy lately,” he adds as he thinks about all the times you have snapped at anyone who even looked at you the wrong way– usually it were people like Jason and his friends or some of the mean girls from the cheer squad.

“Snappy?” You ask, looking up, your eyes meet his again.

“Yeah, which is fine, I guess you’re going through some stuff right now,” he shrugs, “but I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything.”

You know you can but there are things that you can’t talk to him about. For some reason, it feels wrong.

“I-I know,” you mumble nervously.

Eddie furrows his brows, he tilts his head a little as he takes in the sight of your flustered expression. You finally close the magazine and place it on the nightstand.

“Did something happen on the last date you went on?” He asks, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice, “did he hurt you?”

You shake your head and pull your knees up to your chest, “no, he didn’t hurt me.”

He nods, relaxing a little. Eddie might be jealous whenever you go on dates but he is also worried about you, what if you get hurt? He doesn’t know what he would do if you did get hurt.

“Was he mean?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head as you grow even more flustered. You want to tell him but then you would step into new territories and the first moments would definitely be awkward and it’s Eddie, your best friend, your ‘partner in crime’ as he likes to call it, he is your childhood friend but he is also more than that. Eddie is the one you want, Eddie is the one you love.

You know that he doesn’t feel the same, that’s why you would never bother telling him about your feelings. And that is why you have been trying to get over him, trying desperately but nothing works, you can’t get him out of your mind and you never will but you know that someday, you will have to watch him fall in love with someone that isn’t you, you will have to hear stories about his successful dates and just the thought of it is enough to shatter your fragile heart.

Eddie keeps pestering you about the date that you went on weeks ago, he keeps asking questions, he keeps pushing you as though you aren’t frustrated enough already, frustrated in every way.

As he keeps poking your side and joking around, asking you the silliest questions, you finally snap.

“None of them make me feel good!” You exclaim, interrupting him, “none of them know how to touch me right! None of them know how to make me…. come,” you whisper the last word as you start blushing.

His eyes widen and he instantly shuts his mouth, his cheeks grow red as he processes your words. First he gets jealous after finally getting the confirmation that you do have sex with them, then he gets mad, how dare they touch you and not make you feel good? Then he gets curious.

“You fuck them?” He asks you bluntly.

You give him a side eye, not feeling brave enough to look into his eyes yet, “no, just hands and mouth stuff.”

He clenches his jaw, humming as he nods.

“A-And none of them made you… you know, cum?” He asks, smirking a little when you glare at him.

“No, no they didn’t.”

And there are two reasons for that.

One, they are not Eddie and two, they don’t know what the hell they are doing. You are more successful when you touch yourself.

Eddie stares at you, getting lost in his thoughts.

He thinks about touching you, all the time. He thinks about what it would be like to feel your bare skin against his, what it would feel like to have you under him, what it would feel like to kiss your lips, to make you feel good, to taste you, to hear your beautiful moans as he makes you cum on his fingers, on his tongue, on his dick.

“I could make you cum,” he blurts out without thinking.

You snap your head towards him, eyes widening as you look into your best friend’s pretty eyes. His cheeks are flushed and he seems to be flustered by his own words, yet he straightens his back and looks confidently into your eyes, “I could make you feel so much better than any of them ever could.”

“What– Eddie?” You mumble.

Your heart starts racing as you look at him, he is nervous, you can see it but he is genuine about it, he isn’t playing with you.

Eddie puts his hand on your bare thigh, he blinks, ignoring the racing heart in his chest, “i-if you tell me what to do, I promise, I will make you feel good.”

Your heart flutters and so does your stomach. Eddie is everything you think about when you touch yourself at nights. Just the thought of him kissing your skin and touching you the way you’ve always dreamed about, makes you press your thighs together.

“W-What do you mean, if I tell you to?” You ask, curiously.

You were always convinced that he had been with other girls before, that he touched them, that he had sex with them.

Eddie isn’t embarrassed to admit it, just a little flustered, “I haven’t, you know..” he shrugs, rolling his eyes, “come on, sweetheart. You know I haven’t fucked anyone, I’m a virgin– you’d know if I wasn’t, I tell you everything.”

Yeah, he does tell you everything but you thought that he might’ve kept that from you, just like you kept things from him. Yet the thought of Eddie being a virgin surprises you– he is so beautiful, so attractive, so sexy– who wouldn’t want him?

But Eddie doesn’t want just anyone, he wants you.

“You’ve never?”

He shakes his head, “no, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, not wanting to tell you the truth, not wanting to mess it up with the girl he loves.

“Don’t ask so many questions,” he mumbles as he squeezes your thigh, “do you want me to make you feel good?”

You nod your head slowly as you stare at him with wide eyes.

How did you both get here?

Eddie’s heart jumps in excitement when you whisper a small ‘yes’. You want it, you want him.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispers as he bravely leans in to kiss your cheek, “so I can make you feel good.”

There was always more than just friendship between the two of you, it was so clear to everyone but the two of you. Eddie was so focused on his feelings, he never paid attention to the way you looked at him, to the way your touch always lingered, to the way you put him above everything and everyone.

You place your hand on his shoulder and look into his eyes, taking deep breaths, you move closer to him, you notice the way his breath hitches in his throat when your eyes flicker to his lips. He raises his hand to cup your cheek, placing his thumb on your bottom lip, he swallows nervously, staring at it for a long time before he looks back into your eyes.

There have been so many moments where you have gotten this close, when you gave him a kiss on the cheek the other day, you stopped to look at his lips and he swore, his heart leaped to his throat, when you poked at his sides and started tickling him, he grabbed your waist and fell back on his bed, with you on top of him and then you both stilled and your nose bumped into his, your lips almost touched -- he was dying to feel your lips on his.

There was always a sense of longing between the two of you but neither of you were brave enough to make the first move, the fear of rejection was too big.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Eddie whispers shakily, his heart starts pounding in his chest and he knows that this might be something that you don’t want but you are about to step into new territories, things won’t be the same after this anyways– he will pretend that they are for your sake, if you want it.

“Really?” You ask with widened eyes.

He smiles a little, “yes.”

“Me too.”

“C-Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you whisper.

He wastes no second to connect his lips with yours, a gasp makes his way up to his throat when he finally feels your lips on his. You softly wrap your arms around him and pull him against you, chest to chest, you hold each other tightly as you experience your first kiss with each other. Eddie still holds your cheeks, humming into the kiss when you deepen it.

Your lips feel so perfect against his, even better than he had imagined. It makes his heart flutter and his skin tingle, fire burns in his stomach and his desire for you grows bigger and bigger.

You moan into his mouth when he grabs your waist and pulls close to him before he lays you down, without breaking the kiss, he moves on top of you.

Years and years of yearning and pining is over, finally, he gets to feel you, he gets to feel what it’s like to kiss you, to touch you, even if just for tonight. He takes his time, opting to explore your body with his hands and lips first.

His erection is growing, his jeans get uncomfortably tight but he pays no attention to that. He takes your shorts off after a while, sliding them down your legs slowly.

When he hears your whine and sees the desperate look in your pretty eyes, he can’t help but wonder, is this real? He wanted this for so long and now he just got it? Just like that?

“Eddie,” you whisper as he gets lost in your eyes while his hands grip your hips tightly, “touch me,” you plead, placing your hands on top of his and moving them up to your panties, “please.”

This is real. Very real.

He leans down again, pecking your lips and your cheek, making his way down to your jawline, he kisses you gently as he plays with the thin material of your black underwear. He moves your hair out of the way, attaching his lips to your neck, he begins to suck on your skin.

You moan again, putting your hand on the back of his neck, your fingers move through his curls, “please,” you whine.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he whispers against your skin as he switches between sucking on your skin and kissing it. His other hand slides up to your chest, touching your boobs for the first time, he groans, “I can’t wait to taste you.”

“Do it, please, Eddie!”

How can he deny you of your wishes when you sound so pretty and desperate?

He gives you a cocky smirk, showing you confidence as though he isn’t nervous and freaking out that the girl of his dreams is begging to be touched by him. He gives you another short kiss on the lips, he places his fingers on your clit, feeling your wetness seeping through the thin material. A moan leaves his lips and his dick twitches in his pants. He begins to move his fingers in circles, rubbing your clit over your panties.

“T-That feels good, Eddie.”

Pride rushes through him when he sees your face scrunching up in please.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah– oh!”

He moves your panties to the side a little so he can touch you, properly. The truth is, he has no idea what he’s doing but he reads magazines– ones that he can learn something from, ones that teach how to touch a girl, how to make her feel good, he even bought condoms, just in case.

Just in case you finally give him a chance.

You are the only girl that he wants.

Eddie ends up taking your panties off completely, throwing them on the ground next to your shorts, he keeps kissing your neck as he rubs your wet pussy, sliding his fingers through your folds, groaning and moaning at the feeling of how soaked you are, for him. He moves away from you to look at you, watching the way you take his fingers.

He swears, he could cum just from hearing your moans but the sight of you grinding against his hand as he pushes his fingers into you for the first time does things to him, a feeling that he never felt before rushes through him.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, sweetheart.”

He is inexperienced, a little clumsy and unsure of his actions but he makes you feel good, nonetheless. He makes you feel something that no one ever made you feel before. Your skin is on fire, your heart is racing, your walls are clenching around his fingers, you can feel yourself dripping down on his sheets– you have never even been this wet before.

Eddie watches you in awe, you arch your back in pleasure and look at him with big and pleading eyes before you look down at his hand, watching the way his ringed fingers slide in and out of you.

“E-Eddie.”

“I wanna eat your pussy, baby,” he says with a whiny voice, “tell me what to do.”

Your pussy clenches harder around his fingers, especially when you watch him settling between your legs, staring down at you in fascination. Without waiting for you to tell him what to do, he sticks his tongue out and licks your clit.

“O-Oh my god– are you sure you need to be told what to do?” You moan, looking down at your best friend in shock.

He nods against you, licking your clit even faster.

“A-Ah! Shit, Eddie– keep doing that.”

He moans at your taste and at the way you moan his name, at the way you grab his hair and pull at it. Eddie’s pants feel tighter and tighter, he gets more desperate, moaning louder against you, he sends vibrations through your body causing you to whimper.

Your voice gets high pitched and shaky as you continue to guide him through it, telling him to replace his fingers with his tongue, he does it, he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders as he dives his tongue into you and buries his face in your pussy, nudging your clit with his nose.

He moans and whimpers just like you do, he enjoys this just as much as you do– if not more. He grabs your hips tightly, his cold rings, his wet fingers, dig into your skin, his curls tickle your inner thighs. Eddie drools all over you, saliva drips down his chin.

His cheeks are flushed, he eats you out so desperately, at one point, you stop telling him what to do, he doesn’t even need to be told, Eddie is perfect. He is so lost in the pleasure, looking up at you with his pretty dark eyes, you see the smugness in them but also the desperation.

You squeeze your thighs around his head and pull his hair tighter, he fucks you with his tongue and starts playing with your clit and as your moans get louder and you begin to see stars from the pleasure, you don’t notice that his moans got louder as well.

You squeeze your eyes shut, goosebumps appear on your skin as you finally cum. Your body falls limply against his pillows, though you don’t loosen the grip on his hair just yet, whining at the feeling of his tongue lapping up all your juices.

“Eddie,” you whine.

When he gently puts your legs down, he wipes the juices off his chin and smiles at your exhausted form. He crawls over you and leans down to kiss your cheek, “was that okay?” He asks as he lays down next to you, adjusting his pants uncomfortably.

You open your eyes, still trying to catch your breath, you turn to look at him, “was that okay?” You scoff, “Eddie– no one has ever made me cum before– well except for myself.”

His eyes widen and a smirk tugs at his lips, pride settles in his chest, “good,” he whispers, “I’d like to see you touching yourself.”

You can’t help but giggle, though you slap his chest playfully and roll your eyes. You notice how flushed his cheeks are, how messy his curls are now from all your tugging, you finally notice the way he looks at you and the way he shifts uncomfortably, trying to adjust his pants.

You take his hand, “c-can I suck your dick?”

The look in your eyes is so innocent, your touch is so soft– if you keep looking at him like that, his dick is gonna get hard again.

“Uh– fuck, I would love to but uh– I kinda,” he stutters as his face grows red, “you know I–” he points to his groin.

Your confused face transforms into one of understanding, your lips part in surprise, “y-you what? You came in your pants j-just from–”

He rolls his eyes, nodding, “yes, just from eating you out, sweetheart,” he admits.

He enjoyed it so much, he didn't even need to be touched, just hearing you moan, tasting you and making you feel good threw him over the edge as well.

You giggle, placing your hands on his shoulders, you push him onto his back and straddle his waist, surprising him with your action. Instantly, his hands find their way to your hips and he stares up at you with big eyes.

“That’s so hot, Eddie.”

“I-It is?”

You nod, “mhmm.”

You lean down to kiss his cheek, “you’re hot,” you whisper as you brush his hair back to kiss his neck.

His eyes flutter closed and a breathy moan falls from his puffy lips, “shit, baby,” he whimpers, “p-please tell me we can do that again.”

Your lips are soft on his skin, your hands are on his chest, he can feel you grinding against his stomach a little as you continue to kiss him.

“Please, that’s all I ever wanted,” you whisper.

“R-Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re mine now, Eddie.”

His heart could burst, a smile tugs at his lips.

“Fuck yes, sweetheart,” he smiles, “I’m yours.”

He grabs your face to make you look at him, “and you are mine.”

You smile at him, “all yours, Eddie.”

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble

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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 6 months

Text

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

#jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook x oc #jjk smut #jjk series #yoongi #min yoongi #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic bts smut

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mydearzero · 1 year

Text

Livid | mean!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Annoying Spencer, just to see him get mad, was one of your favourite ways to pass time at the BAU. Emily had warned you not too push him too far. You hadn't realised how right she was until Spencer decides he's had enough and takes you down to the basement.

Contents: DUB-CON, NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, mean!Spencer, no aftercare,, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, co-workers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie (is it even a mydearzero original if there's no coming inside?), spanking, dacryphilia, impact play, choking, spit, degradation, humiliation, semi-public sex, punishment, name calling, sir kink, filming and taking pictures without permission, orgasm denial, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

5K words

this one's a doozy folks. buckle up. it's pure porn - nik

You weren't doing it on purpose at first. It just so happened that you occasionally did things that got under Spencer's skin. You gradually realized which actions ticked him off and started doing them more and more. You just enjoyed seeing him annoyed, huffing and puffing, yet never saying anything. His patience seemed neverending.

Emily had warned you not to push him too far. According to her, when Spencer snapped, he exploded.

Yeah, right.

Her discouragement only egged you on. You'd hardly ever seen the genius even get mad. Spencer got irritated at best. He was an angel, really.

So you continued pushing, taking every possible chance to get on his last nerve. It had turned from enjoying seeing him annoyed to wanting to see him furious. You'd seen Spencer snarl at a snobby police officer once. Hell, you'd even seen him snap at an UnSub. But you'd never seen him absolutely livid.

It took you a while to figure out why you wanted to see him get mad.

You thought back to that case, the one that had him yelling at the UnSub. You couldn't even remember the details of the case. All you could think about was Spencer's hands gripping the table as he leaned across it, getting close and personal with the UnSub.

You cared about the veins straining against the surface of his skin, the bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. The only lasting memory you had of the case was the tone of his voice and what it did to your body.

A part of you wanted to be on the other side of that table, and it scared you how that part was growing exponentially, especially after Emily's warning.

You didn't want to admit it, not even to yourself. But the sole reason you continued messing with Spencer was the age-old 'teasing your crush to get their attention' stint, and you hadn't even realized it.

You shouldn't have been having all these deep thoughts and desires while sitting at your desk on a random Tuesday afternoon. Yet here you were.

You tried to read the lines on the page in front of you repeatedly but to no avail. Your face sunk into your hands as you groaned inwardly. You had to stop this juvenile behaviour at this second. He was going to catch on. You were certain somebody already must've done the math.

It shouldn't have surprised you when Spencer did finally burst. It wasn't like you did anything out of the usual. He wasn't even being tormented by a gruelling case. He'd just had enough.

"God! You think you're so cute, don't you?" Spencer exclaimed, slamming the mouse you'd taped over on the table. The silence from before and after his outburst differed immensely. It was calm and serene before it turned tense and awkward.

You slowly turned to look at his desk, not meeting his eye. If you had, you would've seen the way his pupils dilated at your meek behaviour. The way he had to regain his composure.

Your heart rate skyrocketed, feeling caught. You knew reading minds wasn't a thing, but profiling sure was one of the things closest to it in this world. Spencer couldn't have known what you were thinking only seconds prior to him finding your latest childish attempt to invoke his anger. But it felt like he knew.

Spencer scoffed as you chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly not feeling so funny anymore. "You don't have anything to say for yourself?"

You gaped as you made eye contact with an overly amused Derek. He was enjoying this show to its fullest extent. "Don't look at me, kid. We warned you." He shrugged.

You turned your eyes back to a still-aggravated Spencer. He pushed himself away from his desk and got out of his chair. He brushed his hands over his jacket, still sending daggers your way.

Your gaze followed him hesitantly as he stalked over to your desk. You scrambled to arrange things as if your messy workspace would only annoy him more.

"Get up." He demanded. You raised your eyebrows in question. Was he serious?

"Ooh, someone's in trouble," Emily teased in a sing-songy tone. Not helping, Prentiss.

"You're messing with me, right? Because of all the stupid pranks?" You asked sceptically. Your voice was wavering and uncertain.

"No, I'm being dead serious. Get up. Follow me." Spencer made an upwards motion with his fingers as he loomed over your seated figure.

You slowly pushed your chair out and sent questioning glances to JJ, who only shrugged. Your legs were unsteady as you stood. Spencer was your coworker, your friend. So why was your heart beating in your throat as if you were about to be sent to the fifth circle of Dante's Inferno?

Spencer didn't say another word as his long legs stalked out of the bullpen, uncaring that you were struggling to keep up. You nearly tripped over your feet several times before reaching the elevator. You stood beside a seething Spencer, who turned to push the 'B' button.

The basement? What business did he, or you, for that matter, have in the basement? Nobody ever- Right. Nevermind.

Nobody ever set foot in the basement.

You twiddled with your fingers in anticipation, hearing Spencer breathe in an unnatural pattern. The floors passed by quickly, and before you knew it, you were met with the sight of the metal doors sliding open into darkness.

Spencer flicked the light switch. Harsh, industrial, white light filled the dusty room. It was smaller than you expected. The rows of file cabinets made it look smaller than it really was. A desk was situated in the middle, seemingly abandoned.

You shuddered a breath as you stepped into the room, feeling exposed even when you knew nobody could see or hear you down here. Your shoes seemed outrageously interesting, your eyes never leaving them as you awaited Spencer with bated breath.

"Look at me." His words filled the silence. The room had an eerie lack of echo, his voice sounding closer than it actually was.

You slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze. He appeared taller like this, especially when you were already feeling small, hunching in on yourself.

"I'm going to give you one chance to apologize for your downright appaling behaviour." Spencer crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk. You felt as if you were being scolded by a teacher for throwing a crayon at another student.

"Why the condescending tone, Reid? We're all coworkers here." You questioned defensively, mirroring his stance by crossing your arms.

"That doesn't sound like an apology to me, but I'll bite. We are definitely coworkers. But you know as well as I that you changed that dynamic when you decided to start acting like a spoilt little girl begging for my attention." His composure didn't change as he spoke the incriminating words.

You didn't know what you expected coming down here with him, but this certainly wasn't it. You felt something simmer at his words, something you didn't want to acknowledge. You searched his face for any emotion, but only found a look that said "Well?"

When he noticed you weren't going to answer, he laughed. It wasn't a hearty chuckle. There was an underlying tone of sarcasm and ridicule to it.

"You've been at this for months, and now you're not even going to attempt to say sorry? I expected a shitty excuse, sure, but an apology nonetheless." Spencer scoffed.

You knew he was holding back. You could see it in the way he turned his head and closed his eyes before facing you again. You damned your profiling skills for giving you a foresight of what he had in store for you. You'd seen nothing of his wrath yet.

You knew he was getting frustrated at your silence, but you couldn't find the words. Nothing you could say could make this any better for you. You ran all the possible outcomes in your head, but every thought was more incriminating than the previous one.

"Fine." He clapped his hands together, stepping away from the desk. He motioned towards it, signalling you to take timid steps towards the piece of furniture. You looked at him questioningly.

His eyebrows raised. The words "You know what to do" went unspoken.

You swallowed as your mouth went dry. You looked at the desk, before looking at Spencer again. He didn't have to say anything. He wanted you to do it yourself. You closed your eyes as you leaned your palms against the unkept wood. You slowly brought your elbows down, leaning on them uncertainly. If this wasn't his intention, you'd just embarrassed yourself into the next century.

You heard him breathe deeply as he walked behind you. You jerked as his hand ran up your back until it reached between your shoulder blades. He pushed hard enough to press your chest flush with the desk, turning your head to lie it on the surface. His hand stayed there as the other was placed on your hip.

Spencer let out a content sigh. "Better."

He stepped away, leaving a cold feeling behind. You didn't dare move, already mortified at your predicament. You tried to breathe as quietly as possible as if any noise you made could set him off. You tried to hear what he was doing, unable to see him clearly in your peripheral.

Your head raised off the desk at lightning speed when you heard the unmistakable sound of a phone camera shutter.

"Did I say you could move?" Spencer asked. You shook your head, quickly placing it back on the desk. For a second, you wondered why you were even listening to him. He had no authority over you. But it felt exhilarating to give it to him.

"You speak when I ask you a question. No shaking your head, understood?" His voice came from in front of the desk. How hadn't you noticed him walking around it?

"Yes, sir," You squeaked, doing as he asked. Sir? Really?

"Good girl."

The words flipped a switch inside you. You licked your lips and closed your eyes, seemingly having to wait an eternity for him to take the next step. You heard the distinct sound of his belt unbuckling. You found yourself crossing your legs at the implication. Surely he wasn't going to whip you?

You thought you were going to get scolded for the action, but Spencer ignored it. He reached for your wrists, lying awkwardly beside your head. You didn't dare make eye contact.

You were confused at his next action until you saw the hole near the back of the desk, meant for cables. He threaded the belt through it before bringing your wrists to it and tying them together. The positioning was awkward at best, but you were starting to feel like that's what he wanted, to embarrass you.

You gave the makeshift handcuffs an experimental tug. They didn't budge, of course. Panic simmered in your chest, a claustrophobic feeling settling at the thought that you were stuck. There was nowhere for you to go, nowhere for you to run from Spencer's revenge.

He ran a hand through your hair, softly shushing you like you were a child. His hand slowly slid down your back. Your breath stuttered at his deliberate pace. He was taking his sweet time.

"Shhh... You're fine." He whispered, putting a foot between yours and kicking them open. You grunted at the action just as he was hooking his fingers into your bottoms and taking your underwear clean off with them. He lifted one of your feet, only bothering to untangle one foot and leaving your clothes pooled at your other ankle.

His fingers trailed up the inside of your leg. The tips of his fingers finally found the spot where you needed them most, but Spencer didn't do much besides feel you up.

"You're so fucking wet it's pathetic." He mumbled as he wiped his fingers on your thigh.

"You can pretend that you're tough and grown up all you want, but this is what you are. A pathetic little whore begging for my attention." Spencer walked around the desk and grabbed your chin harshly. The look in his eyes could only be described as animalistic. The ghost of a smirk danced on his lips.

You saw his eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you. But he did no such thing.

"Open your mouth." He demanded, squishing your cheeks between his pointer finger and thumb. You obeyed, but it wasn't good enough for him.

"You can do better than that, c'mon." He urged, putting his thumb in your mouth and pushing your head back. He removed his hand and observed you lying there with your mouth open. He seemed pleased at the sight, humming in approval.

His hand made its way back to your chin, turning your face upwards, craning your neck uncomfortably. You hadn't registered what he'd done until you felt a warm glob hit your tongue. Had he just spit in your mouth? You looked at him aghast.

"Wipe that shocked look off your face and swallow it if you know what's good for you." He patted your cheek mockingly. You closed your mouth and swallowed his spit, not trying to think too much about the fact that known germaphobe Spencer Reid had just spit. in. your. fucking. mouth.

"That's what I thought." He said, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head. You thought he was going to take it off, maybe leaving it on your arms, seeing as they were currently tied to the desk, but he did no such thing. He brought the hem over your eyes, effectively blindfolding you with your shirt.

You couldn't imagine what you must've looked like. Legs spread, bottoms haphazardly pulled down, shirt over your eyes, hands tied, pussy dripping. Your heart sank as you heard Spencer take another picture.

"You look so good like this, exactly how you're supposed to be," Spencer spoke with a misconstrued sense of pride.

You flinched and yelped when he abruptly struck your behind with a flat hand. You'd expected this was coming, that he was going to punish you, but you hadn't heard him approach. He rubbed his hand over the sore spot he'd just hit.

"You're going to count them for me, and you're going to apologize after every single one. You better mean it because if I feel you're being insincere, you're only gonna get more until I believe you." Spencer set the rules, resting his left hand on your hip. You waited for him to begin, but another strike didn't come.

"This is the time where you say 'Yes, sir' like you did earlier. I must admit, I didn't expect that one. But I like it, so we're keeping it," he mocked.

"-Yes, sir," you stammered. Another hum of approval met your ears as he repositioned himself for the optimal angle.

He didn't hold back as the second slap hit your butt. It stung more than you'd expected, a burning sensation spreading fast.

"Two. I'm sorry, Spencer." You apologized, putting as much sincerity behind the words as you could muster.

"No, that was one. The first one was just a warning. And you don't deserve to call me Spencer right now. You'll need to earn that privilege back. You'll learn to respect me soon enough. Now, start over."

His hand came back down once more.

"One! I'm sorry, sir," you hissed at the pain.

"What are you sorry for, princess?" Spencer asked as he delivered another smack.

"Two! I'm sorry for disrespecting you!" You no longer had the energy to keep your head up, giving up the attempt to look at him and resting it back on the desk.

"And?" He questioned. Another strike.

"Three! I'm sorry for embarrassing you and pulling stupid pranks." You admitted.

"I don't buy it," Spencer contemplated.

"Please, sir! I'm sorry. I'm genuinely sorry for being so childish." You apologized. A strike harder than the previous ones landed on your behind.

"You don't speak out of turn, do you understand?" Spencer gripped your hair and pulled your head up to spit the words straight into your ear. You nodded wildly, as much as his grip on your hair through the shirt would allow.

"Yes, yes, I understand." You said. Spencer let go of your hair. You only had milliseconds to respond, preventing your head from hitting the wood. He returned to his previous position, not wasting any time before landing several strikes to your ass.

This continued for a while, him smacking, you counting and begging for his forgiveness. Your legs were shaking by the time he reached the twentieth hit.

"Twenty... I really am sorry, sir. I shouldn't have pushed you." You sighed, feeling Spencer rub circles over the impacted flesh.

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked.

"Yes, I won't do it again. I'm sorry." You didn't remember how many times the words 'I'm' and 'sorry' had rolled off your tongue that afternoon, but it must've been dozens.

"Good. Now, for good measure, one last time." There was an underlying tone to the threat you couldn't place. You didn't have to wonder long, the last strike landing directly on your pussy.

"Shit! Oh my god," you cursed, attempting to shut your legs. Spencer's feet kept them from moving. He'd anticipated the reaction. You were glad for the echoless chamber, the humiliatingly wet sound only reverberating slightly.

"Now I can really be sure you'll remember." You could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this too much. But then again, hadn't you been the exact same? Gaining joy from inconveniencing him? You sighed at the realization you couldn't judge him for getting off on this. The last smack certainly hadn't been a dry one.

"Now..." Spencer trailed off. He removed the shirt from your eyes, pushing it further over your head. He pushed the fabric into your mouth as a makeshift gag.

"Don't you make any noise, okay? I mean, not like anybody will hear you down here." He chuckled. You turned your head and your eyes widened as you saw him walk towards the elevator. He pushed the call button and turned back to catch one last glimpse at you. He snapped a quick picture of your reddened ass cheeks before stepping into the elevator.��

You yelled his name through the gag, nothing but gurgling, obstructed pleas meeting his ears. He wasn't leaving, right? He wouldn't. He couldn't. He was just testing you.

You were left with the sound of your own pants and racing heart. You tugged at your binds once more. What if he left? Went home? Surely it was past the regular office hours by now.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the idea of being left here like this overnight. What if nobody came down here? What if somebody did come down here and saw you like this? You were conflicted.

After 10 minutes of silent contemplation and several escape attempts, the metallic creaking of the elevator coming down sounded through the basement. You clenched your eyes shut, begging the universe it was Spencer and nobody else.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard the familiar sound of Spencer's shoes hitting the linoleum floor. You watched as he sipped his newly acquired coffee, not acknowledging you, only looking at his phone. After presumably sending a couple of texts, he shut it off and put it away on top of one of the cabinets nearby.

He smiled at the sight of the fresh tears rolling down your face. "Tell me, have you ever heard of Dacryphilia?" He asked as he crouched down to your level and wiped a few stray tears from your chin. He removed the gag from your mouth.

You shook your head before correcting yourself. "No, sir."

"It's a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing," Spencer explained. Leave it up to Spencer to dive into an explanation at a moment like this.

"I never thought I was someone who could be turned on by that. But seeing you like this, I can definitely see the appeal." His words were quiet, but so was the room.

"You look so pretty when you cry for me." He praised, running a hand through your hair. It was a surprisingly sweet sentiment, given the circumstances. He got up from his crouched position before you. You looked up at him. The domineering gaze he gave back told you all you needed to know.

"Thank you, sir," you whispered, hoping it was the correct response.

"See? It's not that hard to be respectful. But I'm not done with you yet."

Your breathing picked up as you remembered your predicament. Spencer didn't waste any time, pushing his pants down. His cock was long and thick.

You thought he was going to make you suck it. He pushed it in your mouth harshly, not giving you any room to breathe. He held you there, choking on his cock by the back of your head for a few more seconds before pulling it out and slapping it on your cheek. He smiled wickedly before tucking it back in his pants. It had only been a taste, literally.

He saw your confused look, but ignored it, opting to walk back around the desk. He wasted no time, pushing two fingers inside your mortifyingly wet hole. He curled them exactly right, and you clenched your fist and eyes to stop your legs from giving out.

Just as you'd started moving your hips along with his hand, he pulled away. "Stay still. Or you don't get anything."

You willed your entire body to remain frozen as he resumed his activities. He brought his other hand to your clit, rubbing at the exact speed and pressure to make your knees buckle. You had to put all your weight on your upper body to stop moving.

"God, will you shut up?" Spencer groaned. You hadn't even noticed you were making any noise, the moans and whines falling from your lips sounding foreign.

You bit your lip to keep them from escaping, but it was hard when Spencer was unrelenting. You felt yourself coming close, soft, high-pitched whines escaping your throat no matter how hard you tried to contain them.

Your toes curled, and your muscles tightened, but Spencer pulled away. More tears welled up in your eyes at the immensely unsatisfying sensation. You wanted to beg him to please continue and let you finish. But he'd told you to shut up, and you really weren't looking to prolong your punishment.

You heard your own pathetic sobs, drowning out the sound of him undoing his pants again. Your chest heaved as you tried to stay silent. Sweat dripped down your face, mixing with the tears.

It was bizarre how quiet he stayed. He was usually so talkative. But the implication that you didn't deserve him speaking to you unless it was an order was clear.

"This is all you're good for. A hole for me to fuck. And don't you dare forget it." Spencer lined himself up and didn't offer any more preparation before sliding inside.

"You're just a deplorable, woeful, pitifully sad little girl." Spencer spat as his grip on your hair returned. His other hand snuck around your neck, gripping tightly. He used the grip on your hair and neck as leverage to set a brutal pace, calling you every synonym for pathetic available.

"You think you're so important? Good enough to be pulling shit like this? You need to learn your. fucking. place." Every word was punctuated by a harsh thrust. "You're expendable at best."

You didn't dare speak, the only thing leaving you was quiet sobs, whines and moans. Your breathing was strained against the hold he had on your neck.

You were embarrassed to feel the knot in your stomach tightening worryingly fast. Spencer was treating you like a whore, and you were getting off on it, faster than anything else ever had before.

Spencer felt you tighten around him and quickly pulled out and stepped away. You felt the cold breeze on your empty hole. More tears spilt as you heard the sound of a video recording starting.

Spencer zoomed in on your desperate, fluttering pussy, before pushing back inside, keeping the camera focused on his cock entering in and out.

You tried to hide your face when he turned the camera to it, but his hand yanked on your hair, making you face the camera.

"Say: 'I'm Spencer's little slut. His own personal hole to use whenever he pleases because I'm a cockwhore hungry for attention.'" Spencer demanded.

"Please, sir. Don't make me say it on camera," you begged. You'd say it, just to get it over with, but the current footage he had was already incriminating enough.

"No, you're going to fucking listen to me for once. Say it." The pace of his hips never let up, your figure moving crudely in and out of the shot.

"I-I'm Spencer's... Please," you began. Spencer's speed inside you increased, interrupting your train of thought. He delivered a harsh smack against your still sore ass, urging you to continue.

"I'm Spencer's... little slut. His own personal... hole... to use whenever he pleases." You inhaled sharply before continuing. "Because I'm a... cockwhore... hungry for attention." You stuttered over the words, forcing them out.

Spencer seemed satisfied, putting his phone away. His hand returned to your throat, cutting off the airflow as he fucked you harshly. Every thrust of his hips sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The wood was digging into your hips, sure to be beaten and bruised by tonight. Your weight was no longer being held up by your legs, Spencer's presence behind you being the only thing that kept you from collapsing.

You were tight with desperation, every muscle wanting that sweet release he was depriving you of.

Spencer grunted unintelligible curses against you as he pistoned inside. His thick cock felt like it was splitting you open with every thrust, no matter how wet you'd gotten.

"Gonna cum inside you, and there's nothing you can do about it," Spencer mumbled as he sped up. How it was even possible, was beyond you.

"Please, sir. Please let me cum." You whined. If he denied you one more time, you weren't sure if you could take it.

"What makes you think you fucking deserve to cum? You're an annoying, good-for-nothing brat who's getting what was coming for her." He moaned against the shell of your ear. The sound ignited something new inside you. You needed to hear it again.

"Please, Spencer. Please," you begged, more tears threatening to spill after you'd assumed you were all out.

"What, you're gonna fucking cry? Like a fucking baby? Don't fucking do things if you're gonna fucking cry over the consequences, you fucking slut. And it's sir to you, you whore." You'd never heard Spencer this vulgar. And you could've never imagined what it would do to you.

"You know what they call this, crybaby?" Spencer asked, tightening the grip on your throat, cutting off most if not all of the airflow. You shook your head aggressively.

"Karma." He spoke, thrusting harshly to get the message across. The combination of the lack of air and his ruthless thrusts was brutal. You could feel yourself trembling, trying to keep yourself together.

Spencer pushed his cock sharply one last time, twitching and releasing his spend inside you with a loud groan. He released your throat and pulled out. You fell forward, chest heaving with dry sobs. He hadn't let you come. You cried frustrated tears as Spencer took more photos, as expected.

You felt the warm come drip from your pussy as Spencer took close-ups. A tense silence overtook the room as he made himself decent before paying you any attention.

"Garcia still owed me a favour, so she disabled the elevator from coming down here unless you enter a code," Spencer explained as he untied you. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders, even if the ordeal was already over. The fact that there had been no real threat settled the uneasy feeling, even if only a little. It was the only consolation he offered. Spencer redid his belt as if it hadn't just been used as handcuffs while he fucked you like you were his property to discard.

You rubbed your wrists, seeing the red wells carved in them from your relentless tugging. How were you going to explain this when you came in tomorrow?

Spencer didn't seem to care, simply grabbing his stuff and waiting for the elevator. You looked around for your underwear, only to see a small piece of fabric sticking out of his pocket. You sighed and put your bottoms back on without the underwear, cringing at the wet, sticky fluid still between your legs. Your top was still wet with saliva and tears.

You got in the elevator with him without saying a word. You'd expected to at least talk to him about it, but as soon as you reached ground level, Spencer was gone.

Your eyes welled up and cheeks heated when you realized you were going to have to walk through the lobby and go home alone, all without any underwear and while still dripping his cum.

Spencer had gotten what he wanted. You were mortified. And you sure as hell weren't going to pull any more pranks anytime soon.

Not while at the office, anyways.

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mariclerc · 22 days

Text

Iclawnic couple | cl16

Summary: your dream of dressing up as a Monster High character with your bestie comes true.

Warnings: none. mixed feelings and a bunch of fluff.

a/n: I've had this idea for a while, I hope you like it!! let me know if you want another part!

You and Charles have been best friends for as long as you can remember, you've been there for each other through thick and thin and you've gone to every event possible with him. And even his exes felt quite jealous that you were his friend, and you don't blame them, since between you and him there is a certain closeness and chemistry that everyone notices... Everyone except you two, of course.

So now you find yourself getting ready to go to a costume party with Charles wearing complementary Frankie Stein and Jackson Jekyll costumes, you are very excited because you have always wanted to dress up as a Monster High character and he has always loved the idea, so here you are... Frantically searching for the monster boots you had bought specifically for that costume.

“Charles! Have you seen my boots? You know, the monster ones! The ones with the big ass platform.” you say a little panicked, since you can't find your boots.

Charles, dressed in his Jackson Jekyll costume, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, emerges from the living room to the bedroom.

“Oh my god, Frankie Stein please, calm down. We have all night, and I'm pretty sure those boots are eating their way out of the closet.” he says with a smirk on his face.

You glare at him playfully. “Haha, very funny. You know how important this is to me, this is my childhood dream!” you say and you stomp your foot, a cute and exaggerated gesture.

Charles chuckled. “I know, I know, my little monster. You're going to be the scariest Frankie Stein ever.” he walks over to you and helps you search for the boots, they were hiding behind a big box.

“You're the best!” you say softly.

There's a brief moment of silence, a charged atmosphere.

Then, Charles breaks the silence. “So, ready to scare some people tonight, eh?” he smiles as he look at you finishing getting ready.

“Oh, you bet! Especially those stupid costumes people come up with.” you say while grinning, you finish fixing some details of your costume.

He whistle. “Damn girl, you're going to kill everyone tonight!” he grins. “Although it doesn't matter if you go and eat their brains.”

You look at him, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Oh, shut up you dumbass.” you say trying to play it cool.

You two laugh and leave the apartment to go to the party and see what the night has in store for you.

***

A crowded, noisy room filled with people in costumes, the music is blasting through the walls. You and Charles, in your costumes, are surrounded by a sea of people.

“You look so amazing!” he whispers in your ear.

Your heart skips a beat, you try to hide your blush. “Thank you charlie! You don't look too bad yourself, Jackson.” you say whispering back.

You two laugh while you approach a group of people in which there were several of the drivers and their girlfriends.

“Whoa guys, you two look so sick! Definitely the best costume of the night!” says Daniel raising his glass.

Logan's girlfriend nods. “Yeah, you two nailed it!” she says and you smile at her. “I like your Frankie costume, it looks so freaking good!”

Charles puts his hand on your waist, instinctively, as if his hand belonged there.

You smiled again. “Thanks! We've been planning this for ages!” you giggled. “It was like a dream for us.”

You feel a rush of emotions... His touch, the compliments, the attention. It's overwhelming, but in a good way.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” he says grinning.

You glance at him, your eyes meeting his. There's a silent understanding between you two, a connection that’s always been there but feels much stronger now.

Lewis speaks up. “Seriously, you two look good together.” he says and your cheeks flush again. Charles squeezes your waist gently.

“We’ve known each other forever.” says Charles smiling while you nod, unable to form words.

The conversation continues, but your mind is racing. You can’t stop thinking about the way Charles is looking at you, the way his hand feels on your waist.

The night wears on, filled with laughter, dancing, and more compliments. Every touch, every glance between you two is electric and, somehow, it feels right.

Suddenly, you start to feel a little bit overwhelmed by the amount of people dancing around you, you carefully signal to Charles, he was having a drink but was a little distracted.

“Charlie! I feel like I can't breathe!” you say while you fan yourself with your hands, your eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and overwhelm.

He smiles softly. “It's okay princess, we better go to a quieter place, okay?” he says and you nod.

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. You shiver slightly at his touch and you started walking through the sea of people until you reached a quieter place... That is, the kitchen.

A beat of silence passes between you. Charles’s eyes hold yours, a deep intensity in his gaze as you get to the desolated kitchen.

“It's just... It was a lot of people and I was getting so anxious.” you say softly as you get a glass of water. “And, well, you look... really good tonight.” you say in a whisper.

Charles smiled. “You look incredible too.” he says softly.

His hand slides down your arm to your hand, intertwining your fingers, you feel a surge of electricity between you two.

“I've wanted to be Frankie Stein since I was a kid.” you say smiling while you look down at your costume, a comforting familiarity washing over you.

He chuckled. “I know honey, and you're perfect.” he pulls you closer, until you’re almost touching, the scent of his cologne fills your senses.

“Thank you Charlie.” you say in a whisper.

Your heart pounds in your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve known you for what feels like forever, we’ve been through everything together... And I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I?” he says seriously.

You nod, your eyes locked on his.

“But there’s something more I want to be for you... Something more I want to give you.” his voice is low, filled with a vulnerability you’ve never heard before.

“What is it, Charles?” you ask him softly with a trembling voice.

“I’ve cared about you for as long as I can remember, but it’s more than that now. It’s something... bigger growing inside of me.” he says while looking you straight in the eyes, his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb gently brushing your lower lip.

You swallow hard. “Charles...” you say in a soft whisper, you can feel your heart racing.

He leans closer. “I'm in love with you.” his breath is warm on your lips. You close your eyes, feeling a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Slowly, you lean in and press your lips to his in a soft, gentle kiss. It’s a brief moment, but it feels like forever, as if it was destined to be this way for a very long time.

You pull away slightly, looking into his green eyes. He smiles, a mixture of relief and joy on his face.

“I love you too.” you say in a whisper while smiling and he smiled again, showing off his dimples.

***

Now you returned to Charles' apartment, you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh fluorescent light revealing the remnants of your Frankie makeup. A small, tired smile plays on your lips as you gently remove the false eyelashes.

“I can't believe we actually pulled that off.” you say muttering to yourself, you glance at your reflection, the Frankie Stein look slowly fading and a sense of peace washes over you.

Charles emerges from the bedroom, a lazy smile on his face, he holds one of his t-shirts and places it on the sink. “You look beautiful, even without the monster stuff.”

You blush, turning to face him. There’s a comfortable silence between you as you continue to remove your makeup.

“Well, you don't look too bad yourself, Jackson.” you giggle.

He laughs, a husky deep sound. “Oh, You don't know how grateful I am that you're here.”

He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine.

You turned to face him. “Me too, it feels... Right, being with you.” you look into his eyes, your heart pounding. There’s an undeniable connection between you two.

Charles leans in, his breath warm on your skin. You close your eyes, anticipating his kiss.

Suddenly, a wave of self-consciousness washes over you. You're still in the costume, a little bit vulnerable and exposed, you pull away slightly.

You laughed nervously. “I should probably... get changed.” you turn back to the mirror, your cheeks flushed.

Charles smiles. “Oh, of course, princess, just let me close my eyes.” he said and covered his eyes, you giggled as you took off your costume and put on the shirt he had left in the sink.

“Now you can open your eyes dummy.” you say giggling. “Oh god, you're such a dork... but a cute one.”

Suddenly you start to feel a little tired and sleepy, the exhaustion of the day begins to take its toll on you, Charles notices this and carries you in his arms.

“Hey, put me down, silly!” you say to him, he laughs.

“Never baby!” he starts walking towards the room.

He lays you down on his bed and you lie in his big arms, your head resting on his chest.

“God, I’m so tired.” you say, letting out a yawn. “Wearing those boots was painful, I looked cute, but my feet hurt.”

“Well, you did have a pretty long day chérie.” he says while smirking. “And those boots looked painful, honey, I'm not going to lie to you.” he giggled (darling)

He kisses the top of your head and you giggled.

“Yeah, but it was worth it.” you smile sleepily while you snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and content.

“The prettiest Frankie Stein I've ever seen.” he whispers.

“And you are the most athletic and silliest Jackson I have ever seen.” you say while and you both laugh softly.

“Oh, my little monster.” he says while he tickles your side.

“Charles, please! Stop it!” you laugh breathlessly.

He continues to tickle you until you're giggling uncontrollably. “Alright, alright baby. I’ll stop.” He says huffing with a smile on his face.

He pulls you closer, holding you tightly. You close your eyes, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you.

“Oh, I love you, Charlie!” you say sleepily.

“I love you too, y/n.” he says while smiling. “My pretty girl.”

You fall silent, your breathing becomes slow. Charles strokes your hair gently, his touch soothing and comforting.

A few minutes later, you feel him shift. He carefully moves you to the pillow, tucking you in.

“Sleep well, my little monster.” he whispers.

“Sweet dreams Jackson.” you muttered.

You drift off to sleep, the sound of Charles' heartbeat a comforting rhythm in your ears, giving you calm by sleeping next to him, something you had done before at sleepovers, but now it has a much stronger meaning. All of this was meant to happen, it's like it was written somewhere, but it doesn't bother you at all.

#formula one x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x bff!reader #charles leclerc x yn #costume party #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles x reader #charles x you #charles x shy reader #mariclerc fics #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x bff

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jaeminify · 5 months

Text

a game of tic tac toe.

synopsis ☆ mark would much rather spend his afternoon lazing around his apartment with just you in his clothes with a movie playing on in the background, but hanging out with his friends around was quite fun too.

warning/s ☆ mention of food/amount of food being eaten but it isn't specific!!

author's note ☆ hii! this is one of my second works posted onto this account and compared to my jaemin one shot, this one is much more mundane and while a little suggestive -- not so as compared to finders keepers >< please stay tuned for more works from me!! i'll do my best to put out better imagines and one shots <3 any feedback is much appreciated!

Mark can't seem to keep his hands off of you.

While that may seem like a regular occurrence, his hands are reaching out for yours more than usual, his head rests on your shoulder at least twice as more times when he's sat next to you, and when you're seated beside his close friend, he can't help (he could, he doesn't care) but pull you as close as possible even when the three of you are sat in a booth across his other friends.

"Need something, handsome?" You whisper as your eyes scan through the menu he's holding up for you.

He has one arm slung over your shoulder, holding the menu on the table for the both of you to read. It's easier for you, but the display of affection is a little surprising for you.

Discreetly, Mark leans his head down to give you a kiss. He lets his lips linger on yours one last time when he gives you a second peck, then he kisses the top of your head.

"You're so pretty today." He exhales, resting his head on your shoulder as he points to the meal he wants. "Wanna share that? Looks good."

"That's too heavy," You pout "We have dinner with your family tonight. I don't want to be rude by not ordering."

"I'll finish whatever's on your plate baby, I got you." Mark laughs but finds your concern over the tiniest of things (to him) endearingly cute. He likes that you pay attention to detail, even if it isn't so obvious to him.

"You could just sit there and they'd love you," He reassures. "I know I already do."

"Mark," You laugh. "The way you love me and the way they do is completely different."

"What's different in the way I love you?"

"Mark—"

"Okay, lovebirds! Need you two to put your hands in. We're playing tic tac toe and we need witnesses." Yuta belts, smiling innocently when Mark throws him a glare over your shoulder while you laugh at the paper they show you.

Tic Tac Toe Tournament is written at the top of their paper; you don't know where they got it from, but it's written in Jaehyun's writing so you know who was the mastermind was.

"It's gonna be Yuta versus Jaehyun first, then Jungwoo and Taeyong."

"Hey, how come I don't get to play?" Mark pays more attention this time, sitting up to accentuate his voice more. The arm that was looped over your shoulder instinctively drops lower to your waist, resting there.

"You were too busy staring at Y/N to even hear our question," Taeyong laughs, looking over at the couple with fondness in his eyes.

Even if he does teases Mark at how dense he becomes to his surroundings when you're around, he thinks you two are a good match that he adores.

"Wish you could've seen yourself. It was like cupid shot arrows in your eyes." Yuta grins.

You lean back into Mark's embrace and pinch his cheeks, not thinking too much about how his friends were with you two. You were aware that certain boys disliked affection or being coddled by their girlfriend when they were around their friends, but you were lucky because Mark never minded that. He'd even be the one to proudly ask for more hugs when you were around his friends.

Jaehyun, who had grown accustomed to your antics, shakes his head with a laugh.

"Not even cupid could compare," Jaehyun grins. "Cmon, pick a side." Jaehyun slides the paper over to you.

"I have to pick a side?"

"Have you been to a football match, Y/N?" Taeyong asks, smiling to show you his words were lighthearted. "You either sit on one side of the stadium, you can't cheer for two teams."

"Or so they say," Yuta winks at you, making Mark throw a tissue at him.

"Okay, I'll root for Yuta and Taeyong."

"Whaaat! Y/N I've known you the longest," Jaehyun whines.

"I cheered for you during your FIFA game, I can't keep cheering for one person."

"Especially when she has a boyfriend, Guys. Right here, by the way." Mark says, poking fun when he raises an arm to point at himself. "Sucks that I'm not playing, Y/N's great support."

"Her support for you would be a pity vote."

"In tic tac toe?"

"Especially in tic tac toe."

"That makes no—"

"What did I miss?" Jungwoo comes back to the booth with his phone, having left it at the theatre hall they watched their movie in previously.

"We're playing tic tac toe." Yuta says, beckoning him to hurry back into the seat so they could start playing.

"I'm against taeyong again?" Jungwoo squints his eyes, "Piece of cake. Hope you didn't bet against me Y/N."

"Not betting." You point out.

"So you voted for Taeyong?" He asked dryly.

"...Yes."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Can we start the game?" Jaehyun asks, impatiently grasping the pencil in his hand trying to pass one to Yuta.

The four boys start the game in front of you and Mark. The two of you don't really have to be paying attention much since it was a simple game, but you watched with interest when Taeyong would make side comments at Yuta placing the X's in the wrong boxes while Jaehyun drew hearts instead of O's for his turn.

In the midst of their bantering, Mark rests his chin on your shoulder and subconsciously, you place a hand on his knee to let him know in a subtle way that you're here and that you're still paying attention to him even when you tell Jungwoo to stop smudging Yuta's X's.

"I could totally win at tic tac toe." Mark mumbles just for you to hear.

You can't help but smile at how sulky he's gotten, knowing that he's only showing a straight face to not let the guys tease him. He doesn't really care if they do, he just likes sulking to you more than them.

"You could baby," You say to him, low enough only for him to hear. "I'd even cheer you on."

"I know you would, Angel." He smiles, "With how pretty you sound in bed your voice is music to me."

"Hey," your head turns sharply to face him, placing a finger up between you and his lips, Mark has to bite back a smile at how cute you are, choosing to kiss the tip of your finger before he lays his head on your shoulder again.

He pokes your side to get your attention but your focused suddenly shifts to the match between Jungwoo and Taeyong. Jaehyun wins the first round against Yuta, the latter saying he wasn't focused because he hasn't played in a while.

"How do you even lose at tic tac toe?"

"You're living it, Yuta. That's literally you."

"Shut up and start the game," Yuta groans, passing Taeyong his pencil after hearing his friend tease him.

"You sure you don't wanna change your mind, Y/N?" Jungwoo pokes fun, drawing the lines for the game to start after he scribbles down his and Taeyong's name.

You shake your head at Mark's friend, "Nope. I trust Tae, I know he'll do well."

"Wish I had that confidence," Taeyong mumbles.

"It's just tic tac toe..." Mark breathes out, shaking his head when he sees how worked up his friends are getting over one game while waiting for your dessert.

Mark tunes out the conversation, only turning his head to look over at what you guys are doing when he hears you laugh, or when you move forward that Mark doesn't feel your skin on his that makes him tune back in to what the guys are saying.

Mark almost falls asleep when he realises it's been drizzling outside, raindrops pattering softly onto the glass pane he leans on, but when he feels you move again, he turns his head again and notices the way you've now brushed your hair to rest on one side of your shoulder. The clasp of your necklace sits prettily on your neck, making Mark realise you dressed up more than usual today.

Don't get him wrong, you looked gorgeous in anything you wore (much more when you were wearing his clothes, he would debate), but what catches his eyes is the way your shirt lightly raises the more you lean forward. Granted only Mark is privy to see such exposure of your skin; let alone your back, but his mind gets the best of him and before he can stop himself, his hand reaches out to lightly graze his hand over your waist.

You jump a little at how light Mark's touch is, but you don't pull away from your argument — whatever it was about with Jaehyun — to look at Mark.

Mark's a little dazed and empty-headed when he focuses on your skin against his palm. It's not like he was looking to start anything, he loved holding you. Maybe physical touch was his love language, but he liked having you near him. You did too, but Mark enjoyed it maybe a tad bit more.

When you finally scoot back to be closer to Mark after concluding who had won this match, you rest your back against Mark's chest and he locks you close to him, the hand that had been tracing random patterns on your skin only slid to the front of your body to hug you. Mark quietly watched the next game of tic tac toe begin between Taeyong and Jaehyun.

Looks like you won both of the bets; even if no money was involved.

You laugh at something Jungwoo says and Mark feels your laughter through your body against his and soon, like most days, he's smiling against the top your head, leaving light kisses on it.

The four boys get caught up in their game, demanding another rematch, this time between Yuta and Jungwoo.

When you tell them to handle this game on their own, Mark volunteers to play the next match against Taeyong.

Although Mark would prefer a quiet day in spent with you with movies being played in the background while the both of you lazed around in your most casual attire, he couldn't lie that moments with his friends and you were just as good.

His favourite people with his person; his most adored person in his world as of right now. He wouldn't want it any other way.

#mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #mark imagines #mark scenarios #mark lee soft #mark lee soft imagines #nct dream soft #mark lee fluff #mark fluff #nct dream fluff

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3hks · 2 months

Text

How to "Copy" a Character (Step-by-Step Guide)

Have you ever fallen in love with a specific character's concept? Where you absolutely NEED a similar character in your story, but aren't too sure on how to mimic it? It's quite simple, really, so let's get into it! (Disclaimer: If this qualifies as plagiarism or anything similar, please let me know ASAP and I'll take this down immediately. I do not support plagiarism and I do not wish to be encouraging it, even if indirectly.)

1. LIST EVERYTHING

Once you have your chosen character, list everything you know about them. This especially applies to personality traits, habits, emotions, and thought processes. Make sure to include their negative qualities and any headcanons you have! Circle or highlight any defining characteristics of the character because it may be the same for your fresh one.

2. REMOVING AND REPLACING

Your list should be rather long if you were thorough. Now, strike out anything you don't want to be a part of your new character and include any original features you want to add. This altered list should have pretty much their whole personality and you can work from there!

3. WHEN AND HOW?

Now, let's put the personality to use! Adding onto your list of traits, add when/how they will show. This way, you are able to keep your character's character in check. Starting with the five senses is a good idea, but you can go from there! (This is kind of confusing so let's look at an example! ^^)

NAME

Affectionate: Physical

Relaxed: Verbal (Tone)

Stubborn: Verbal

Fashionable: Physical appearance

Anxious: Mental (Only shows in xxx situations)

Unpredictable: Actions/Physical

Does this make more sense now? There are many different ways of demonstrating one's qualities and to keep things organized, it's a good idea to know how they'll demonstrate it! And if you study your original inspo character, you'll see that they establish certain attributes exclusively by how they talk or act!

4. FINE DETAILS

Alrighty! Finally, let's include all the fine details about your character! This will vary amongst everyone, but there are a couple of things that I highly encourage you include!

Morals

People they're close to

Relationships between the people above

Goals

Love language

Habits

Backstory (This can come later, but it's good to have one at any point)

And lastly, list ALL the differences between your new character and the reference one! Maybe they both show passion but in different ways, or maybe they have separate speech patterns! It's always interesting to see how far you have gone!

See? In all honesty, it's really straightforward and just about breaking the characters down in order to rebuild them in the way you want!

Just an extra note, school has OFFICIALLY started for me! I'll still be uploading once or twice a week, but please stick with me if I'm a bit late! This school year already seems far busier than the one before, so I need to figure out how to re-balance things!

Thank you all so much for 700 followers!! It's crazy in all honesty (I haven't been giving out the best content recently, ik) T~T but I WILL WORK HARDER!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

#writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing inspo #writing tips #writing advice #thank you #“copying” a character #how to “copy” a character #using a character reference #using a character ref #how to use a character ref

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cybertron-smash-or-pass · 3 months

Note

You are so unbelievably correct about Animated Megashock. They are completely incapable of being normal about each other and it's the best thing ever.

Me every time one of my cool mutuals tells me I have good opinions

Real talk tho, TFA megashock lives in my head rent free. Megatron as a character is so fucking fascinating to me just because it's so hard to read his actual motives, but the clear, constant throughline you can always pick up is a DEEP distrust of everything and everyone around him. Even in the first episode, before Starscream tries to outright kill him, he tells him straight up that he doesn't want him going after the Allspark. He makes a grab for it alone because he just straight up doesn't trust anyone else with that much power. And then Starscream's bomb happens, Megs wakes up as a severed head with half his bits rearranged wrong, and he's on full alert all the fucking time after. He doesn't trust Sumdac, he doesn't trust anyone on Earth, he doesn't even trust his own Decepticons. He thinks LUGNUT of all bots might be out to get him, if only for a moment.

And the thing that's got me pacing around my fuckin room and scratching up the walls, other than pretty much every interaction megs has with shockwave through the whole series, is this one little detail in the Allspark almanac.

God. It's got me fucked UP.

Does Shockwave realize he's the only thing keeping Megatron from a mental breakdown? Does Megatron??? How close are they on a personal level, exactly? Because you don't just get mr. "I'm surrounded by enemies" to admit that on no uncertain terms in front of Primus and everyone unless he MEANS it, and he's PROUD of it.

That is the one bot he can depend on for certain. Shockwave is his stability, his rock, as reliable as the cannon on his arm (god the juiciness of their weapons being so similar too. Fuck. Just marry each other already). He is the trusty weapon he knows he can conquer with. And that's the closest thing to love Megatron would ever let himself feel.

I like to think Shockwave knows hes a weapon in the eyes of his leader and he wouldn't have it any other way. And a lot of that probably comes from how warframes were treated by the autobots before the whole Decepticon movement kicked up. They were assembled with the intent to be killers. Created to be powerful and terrible, treated as living weapons from the moment they came into existence, and hated for it.

To shockwave, Megatron treating him as a weapon is likely what he's come to expect. It's what EVERY warframe expects. But Megatron doesn't treat him as something dreadful for it. He doesn't look at him with disgust or fear or contempt when he carries out the exact destruction he's told to. He looks at him with pride. With a pleased smile. He's met with praise and tenderness. And after such a long time of being made to fight and destroy, only to be treated like garbage, it's probably pure euphoria to be told he's doing a good job at what he was created for.

He will never be good in the eyes of the autobots that made him to be destructive. He'll never be anything other than terrifying. But to Megatron, he's good enough. With Megatron, there's a right answer. With Megatron, he's okay with being a weapon because it finally feels right, if only because there's finally someone there to tell him he's done a good job.

They're both so fucked up by the system and their own trauma that they don't really know how to love each other in a way that's normal or healthy but that will not stop them from trying to love anyway.

#megatron #shockwave #not polls #tfa #megashock #doodles from lord megatron #im not fully sure why im still leaning into the bit of this blog being run by tfp megatron #but that first pic is arguably one of the funniest images ive ever created #but yeah god. fuck. them.#i cant believe they invented toxic yaoi in 2008

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purplelupins · 6 months

Text

Lamb

Midnight Mass

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Father John Pruitt/Father Paul hill x fem!reader

Word count:12.3k

Summery: An entire life of being a good girl was a difficult cross to carry...especially in a tiny town with 127 residents on a good day. You kept the town fed and spirits as high as you could, but when a new face steps off the afternoon Breeze, things around you start to change; you don't even know you're in the eye of the storm.

Warnings: nsfw, reader is religious, religious symbolism, ideology, explanations and general conversations of religion, age gap (like this man is 80 technically and he watched reader grow up, and can remember reader as a little girl so if that’s creepy to you then go no further), stalking, manipulation, murder (hello have you seen the show?), drinking of blood, hunting of a person, grief, description of animal death, reader is described as blushing, character death, non consensual help showering, guilt and god maybe more but I think that’s it…this is not really a fix it fic

Notes:

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You were never a fan of when Beverly was given the opportunity to lead worship. You never felt fully untuned- half of the time it felt more akin to a scolding lesson in school than a reminder of Him. She liked to highlight “them and us” between believers and non believers of Crockett. Somehow she always managed to spin things into belittling those who didn’t attend church, and those days were always a little…tense. This was a time of worshiping and remembering God, not a time of a hierarchy.

“Here we are again. Back to normal. Funny how the pews empty back out once everyone has their ashes, isn’t it?” She paused as if to ridicule the non-churchgoers.

You pursed your lips as she continued, and found yourself looking at small details around the church. Chips in the paint, the crosses, the windows, Father Paul gazing at you-

Startled, you looked back to where you had just been looking and sure enough you caught the Father flicking his eyes away just in time as he bowed his head. You stared at him for a moment, but he was fixated on the rosary in his hand.

Had you imagined it?

You kept your eyes down for the rest of the morning, and ridiculed yourself for thinking the Father would look at you. Why would that be a thought that entered your mind? You didn’t even stop to speak with him after church.

If you had looked behind you, however, you would have seen the Father’s forlorn gaze flickering to your form during his conversations- distracted. He turned back to the islander he spoke to and flashed them a tight smile as they moved on and he spoke to the next person, but John felt a hollowness in his gut, and he wasn’t certain it was from hunger.

Even that night when John went for a stroll down the island like he used to, he stopped several yards from your house and forced himself to turn around. He muttered prayers under his breath the entire way back to the rectory, and knelt before the cross on his wall for another hour before he slept.

“Sheriff? Sheriff!” You yelled as you stepped off your bike at the marina the next morning. You needed a couple things from the Mainland, and had a short list you hoped Hassan would be able to get for you during his time there for his Friday prayer.

The man turned, hand on his hip, “Morning to you too.”

“I have a favour?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes and clasped your hands in front of you.

Hassan rolled his eyes and huffed but you could tell it was a show, “Out with it.”

“I’m just out of a couple things for the shop and you can get them all at this store- I wrote the address down and the list and it’s close to the mosque you go to! Please? There’s some cash in there too.” You held an envelope out hopefully.

He stared at you for a long moment, then slowly took the paper from you, “This isn’t going to be a habit right?”

“Thank you! Thank you thank you, I promise it won’t.” You bounced.

He fixed you another look, but you knew he was smiling a little under that moustache.

“You’re the best!” You called to him when you hopped back on your bike, “Oh! This is for you.” You reached into the basket and retrieved a brown paper bag.

Hassan smiled a little.

“One muffin and a berry tart.” You returned his smile.

He relented. “Fine, fine. I’ll be back this afternoon.” He grumbled.

“Have a safe trip!” You called, “And hey, you really should wash that jean jacket, Sheriff or it might walk away on its own one day!” You quipped and began pedaling away.

Hassan shook his head. He liked having you around. You were a breath of fresh air amongst the stale islanders, and he hoped he could call you a friend one day.

You knew you were cutting it close for Mass, so you sped your way across the island and up the hill to St. Patrick’s where you were happy to see still a few people filing in. You laid your bike down beside the church and jumped up the steps to go and find your spot. One of the perks of a small town was every person had their spot that they sat in- you never had to fight over it.

Your shoulders deflated slightly when Bev took her place atop the pulpit and began the service. “Our responsorial psalm today is Psalm 27. “The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom then shall I fear?”.”

“The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom then shall I be afraid? When evildoers came upon me to eat up my flesh, it was they, my foes and adversaries, who stumbled and fell. Though an army should encamp against me, yet my heart shall not be afraid. And though war should rise up against me, I will put my trust in Him. One thing I have asked of the Lord, one thing I seek, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord, all the days of my life.” Her reading was simple and dry. You found your eyes glazing over, waiting for the Fathers homily.

Then you mentally slapped yourself. This was a time of worship, it didn’t matter if it was boring. You had grown used to the vivid approach he always took during Mass. You laughed a little to yourself when you thought you were a little addicted to it.

As if someone could become addicted to a preacher…don’t be ridiculous.

You remained seated, and watched as Father Paul approached Leeza first for the Eucharist. You liked that he carried on the tradition of serving her first since the accident, even though he wasn’t there. The amount of respect and care he had for the islanders was so selfless.

“Body of Christ, Leeza.” The good Father murmured just as he always did. So gentle.

“Amen.” She said, cupping her hands out.

Silence fell over the church then. You felt confusion fill you when he stopped just a couple steps away from her, and then even took a few steps back.

“Come on. Body of Christ.” He repeated, beckoning her with the wafer.

“Father, what are you doing?” Wade chuckled nervously.

You looked over at Erin, and she had the same look of slight horror that you did. What was he doing? Surely he didn’t think this was a joke.

“Body of Christ.” He repeated.

“What are you doing?” Wade asked again with more of a bite.

Leeza directed her chair to move forward, but Father Paul only stepped back further.

“No. No.” He muttered, and stepped up the stairs of the pulpit.

The worshipers around you began to murmur. You felt pressure start to build in your chest. Anxiety and ire weighing heavy in your stomach the longer he stood there out of her reach. Was he sick? What was he doing?

“Come on. Body of Christ.” Now his voice echoed in the space as he called the girl up to him. Relentless.

“No, stop it.” Erin snapped as she stood, “That’s cruel.”

“Come on.” He repeated, still calm.

Dolly got up and knelt by her daughter, trying to comfort her, “Leeza, honey.” Then she looked up at the pastor and her eyes were like ice, “What is wrong with you?”

“Father Hill enough.” You spoke- emotion making your voice shake.

But still he only stood and waited for Leeza.

You watched Wade stand with his family, each person growing more and more defensive and outraged, “If this is a joke, Father, it’s not funny. I…”

But then, it was as if all air had left the church- all sound gone too. You didn’t know what it was that you were seeing, and you were terrified to blink lest it go away. All horror you felt sunk into the Earth and your head felt light.

Leeza was standing. Freely.

“Leeza?” Wade asked in disbelief.

A woman across from you fainted as she stood.

Your ears felt all prickly and your fingers felt numb.

You could still remember when the accident had happened. How devastating it had been. Hell you used to walk with the Scarboroughs some nights when they went as a family.

Dolly was a mess for almost a year…now they only managed.

Leeza took a step, and then another, and then she was stepping up the stairs and you felt tears start to well in your eyes as you stared up in shock. You couldn’t blink.

“Body of Christ.” Father Hill said once more, and placed the wafer in Leesa’s hands.

“Amen.” She said, voice wavering.

You released a breath, and tore your eyes from Leeza to look up at the Father. He was watching her with such kindness and pride in his eyes as she turned and walked into her parents arms.

Who was he? How could…how could he have known?

Murmurs filled the church as people praised God and crossed themselves.

But you could only see how Father Hill began to sway and cough. He caught himself on the alter, but then pushed himself towards the back door into the vestibule. Your blood began to run cold with worry as he almost ran out of view.

You would have run after him yourself if Bev hadn’t.

Your head was spinning and you felt disconnected from your body.

You didn’t know what to think or do, so you wordlessly walked to Leeza and embraced her. She held you and wept into your shoulder.

You felt your heart.

It hurt.

Ached.

You walked with the Scarboroughs into town to see Dr. Gunning, and kept quiet to let them speak to one another. Disbelief and awe coloured their words as they encouraged their daughter.You kept one arm under Leeza’s while Wade had the other; they talked, and talked until your face hurt from smiling, and you were helping her up the steps to the doctors house.

It all seemed so…miraculous.

Such a God given gift.

Once Leeza was inside safely, you quietly backed out and waved them off. You began your way to your shop, and the entire walk was within a blink of an eye. You might have looked calm and thoughtful from the outside, but oh your mind was churning.

How? How? You could still remember seeing Leeza for the first time after the accident. How broken her and her family was.

You remembered all the specialists they saw and all the visits they made to the mainland. How some visits left them hopeful but most left them even more lost and helpless than the last.

You knew they barely afforded groceries now because of the bills.

Now, you didn’t know if you should weep out of joy or fall to your knees and vomit. It was as if someone you loved had risen from the dead…certainly it was wonderful but somehow you felt a little weary.

Perhaps it was years of empty promises after the oil spill…

You didn’t even remember doing deliveries that day. But somehow you finished them. News travelled quickly- by the time you had been halfway through people were talking to you about little Leezas recovery. You didn’t remember talking much, only saying what a miracle it was. You were back at your shop, just hopping off your bike when you realized you had completely spaced out the entire time.

How?

How…

How did he do that…

It seemed as if something had taken root in the island and had begun changing the chemistry of everything attached to it. First the good moods, now Leeza was walking down Main Street like nothing had happened.

But then when you walked home, you realised how deeply you were dissecting the wonderful event. You wondered if you had become a sceptic without even knowing. Were you so cynical to Gods powers that you questioned his will?

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring down at the rosary in your hands. The little cross glinted in the darkness.

Faith…

Did you lack it?

Had you begun to loose it?

Were you so ungrateful?

You felt tears prickle at your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You needed guidance, not tears. With a heavy heart, you sunk to your knees and began to pray.

It took a full week for you to muster up the courage to ask the Father for an appointment later on Saturday afternoon. Your day to yourself, and your time to relieve your consciousness. Your day to work on yourself.

Which was why you stood on the rectory’s doorstep, fidgeting.

A part of you told you that you were being needy. Selfish. That you just needed to get your head on straight and that you didn’t need to worry the Father with you being self-centred. That if this had been Father Pruitt you wouldn’t have bothered but for some reason you were more willing to see Father Hill.

You knocked, and didn’t have to wait long before the door was being opened. Father Hill stood there with a welcoming smile, “Right on time.” He said, “Come in, y/n.”

You nodded and quietly entered the small house. It felt so strange to be there alone with him. Not uncomfortable just…odd. Like you were somewhere you shouldn’t be.

“Sit, please.” He gestured to the couch, and dragged a chair over from his desk over to sit in front of you.

You perched on the edge, and folded your hands in your lap, “Thank you, Father…I- I know I was a little vague when I asked you to do this…but if I’m honest I’ve always disliked the confessional booth. I’m um…a bit claustrophobic.” You admitted.

He chuckled a little and shook his head, “No apology needed. Sometimes that anonymity that comes with a confessional isn’t right for every confession. I told you I was here when you needed and I meant that.”

His honesty and understanding put you a little at ease. Your nerves were still very much there, though. There was no backing out of this now, so you took a deep breath.

“Have you…have you ever had difficulties with faith, Father?” You asked, eyes flickering to his white collar for half a second.

John admittedly was not expecting that from you. If the implications were that you were having difficulties with faith, then he was surprised. Regardless, he nodded.

“Certainly…we’re all human, even me, and we are made to have ups and downs no matter how dedicated we are to our Lord.” He said gently, resting his elbows on his knees.

You stared back at him, hard. You knew you were ridged. You hadn’t opened up to a soul about this turmoil you had begun to feel, and you hoped to God that Father Hill was the right person to hear you.

You clenched your hands against each other, and put your trust in him.

“I think…I think I’ve become…” you swallowed again when your throat became tight.

Be straightforward.

“I think I’m losing my faith, Father…” you pursed your lips, “It might sound silly for me to say that because you see me at church every day and I’m committed to the community, but I think that I’ve been losing my true love for my faith for a long time…” you whispered. Hearing it out loud made tears start to well in your eyes. You didn’t know why exactly, though perhaps it was the sense that you had failed yourself, your family, your community and your God.

“I’m here with you, y/n…keep going.” He took your hand, and gazed at you, encouraging you.

You took a tight breath.

“It’s just always been a part of my life- getting up and going to Mass and praying before bed and reading the Bible and being a good girl who doesn’t ask too many questions and puts everyone else first and keeps her head down…” you could feel tears start to fall.

“I never really thought about it but…it’s been a couple years now and…it just gets heavier and heavier and I don’t want that burden.”

You bit at your bit as you let everything out, “I read a lot. The internet connection out here is horrible but I’ve done a lot of research on the Bible to try and deepen my understanding and I just find myself tripping over questions, and holes that don’t have answers…things that have been added only a few hundred years ago and things that have been forgotten or omitted…I’ve never even mentioned this to anyone…I think they would assume I was joking because it’s just…a part of who I am. Who I’ve always been…”

You slowly looked back up to Father Hill, and found him watching you patiently. Non-judgemental, just waiting for you to have your time.

John slowly reached out and took your hands in his. You were hanging onto his every move, and he took your silence as a cue to speak.

“Ma-may I?” He asked, and you nodded, “This isn’t about God.”

You blinked. You weren’t expecting that.

Father Hill started again, elaborating,“You feel you’re losing your faith, but I think what you’re losing is yourself. Your sense of self…so much of having faith is endurance and I know you have that. You have faith, young lady and I know you won’t let anything take it from you. You know how I know?” He asked you.

You shook your head.

“Because you’re afraid.” He whispered, his large thumb rubbing your knuckles gently.

You let a tear fall as you held his gaze.

“Because you came here. Luke said “His mercy extends to those who fear him.” And I think that is exactly what will happen for you. I think your fear of God is just a testament of your faith. And I believe you will be granted a great mercy.”.”He said passionately, “But I think what you are truly going through is a need for guidance in yourself.”

You stared at him for a long moment. Perhaps a full minute.

Another tear fell.

Then another.

Then many.

Until you couldn’t see and your cheeks were soaked.

“Shh…shh, that’s okay, I’m with you…shh.” He cooed to you, “I’m here to help…” the Father scooted a little closer.

You nodded, trying to get a hold of yourself, “Sorry-I’m sorry-“

He squeezed your hands.

Had he been holding your hand this entire time?

You took slow shaky breaths until you could speak again.

“I love everyone here…and I do love my life here. It’s simple and fairly easy…but…I can’t help but feel I’m missing something. Like I pretended to be some expectation for so long that now it’s become me and I don’t know how else to be. But realising it is so much worse than just living that way. Delusion is an amazing thing.”

Father Hill sat still for a moment as he thought. “I think being honest will help that turmoil you feel. Nothing too out of your comfort zone but…just enough that you feel truer to yourself…I have been where you are…many years ago. Just as many have.” His voice lulling you into a state of calm.

You looked up at him, eyes starting to dry.

“I had an older sister…” he said gently, “She passed when I was 8…and her death was why I began to look at God and his divine plan and that was where I found my faith. I questioned why and how her death fit into everything and how her death was justified by Him and…in that quest to grieve and find answers, I found some, but I also found God. You are on a similar journey right now and you will find what you’re looking for. It might even be given to you when you least think it will come to you…it may even hurt at first but in time I think you might grow to see it as a revival.”

His words settled into your head, and you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. One last tear fell, “Thank you, Father Hill.” You smiled.

The older man reached up and gently wiped that last tear away and patted your hand, “For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you…” he murmured.

You nodded, and sniffled.

“I’ll make some tea.” He said, and stood after one last reassuring look at you. Somehow his calm seeped into you and your body welcomed it like it was made to. Your shoulders were relaxed as was your jaw. You felt at peace with having gone to him.

John needed a moment away from your proximity. It was a miracle he could keep his composure as you sat there- shooting pains rocked his stomach as hunger brutalized his body.

“I noticed St. Patrick’s has been fuller…” you murmured, wanting to direct attention from you.

“Ah- yes well it seems little Leezas recovery has reawakened the faith of many.” He agreed, regaining a steady voice.

“The island has had a religious revival Father,” you said as he returned with two cups of tea, “The only thing that’s changed…is you.” You looked up from the cup in your hands to gage his reaction. It had indeed been something you noticed, as had many people especially after Leeza…

He tapped the edge of his cup as he took a seat beside you on the couch.

You tried to give him the nudge to speak just as he had for you, “You don’t know what it was like before…I haven’t seen people so engaged in sermons before. You…you have a true gift. You have helped to resurrect this island, Father Hill.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.” He smiled a little.

“You help people everyday.” You turned to look at Father Hill directly.

“So do you.” The man shrugged nonchalantly.

Your nose scrunched a little, “Not really…I try to support my community, but I don’t know about helping.”

“No- no. You do, don’t deflect- you do,” Father Hill shook his head, “You know you do too but you’re so used to it that it’s second nature. That’s a blessed attribute to have.” He insisted, “Especially since things haven’t exactly been easy here since that oil spill. I can only imagine…”

You pursed your lips.

“It’s been…difficult. It’s better now but it was horrible for a long time. I just…” you looked down at the warm liquid in your cup, “I believe you can’t wait for life to be easy before you decide to start helping the people you love.” You muttered.

John felt his heart tug- this time not out of pain. It was a tug of sorrow. As he gazed at this young woman beside him he began to feel as if the two of you were kindred spirits of some kind. You both shared a look, and John found that he had come to understand you a little better, and he began to understand why you were the one he saw first that day on the dock.

You parted ways with the Father sometime later into the evening. It had been a little odd how he had almost ushered you out as soon as he had noticed the darkness outside. He had said something about not wanting a young woman like you being outside at night. You had almost laughed at how old he had sounded.

John had caught the tug of your lips that you hid by ducking your head down. He liked that you smiled around him- that you weren’t afraid…

It would make everything so much easier. You are already to receptive to his guidance…

You left the rectory that night feeling as if something had taken root in you too. Perhaps it was the Fathers spirit of hope settling into your sinew and melding with your blood that had you feeling a little more…looked after.

Cared for.

Seen.

You felt as if you truly were not alone. Like he was always with you even as you walked home.

After your confession, you found yourself bumping into the Father often in town. On a few occasions he walked you home after your working day was done if he happened to be in the area, and you even stopped by the rectory to borrow a book. You found a deep solace being near the preacher, and in your need for a cure to your listlessness, you didn’t even stop to think if you were following his word or God’s.

His sweet, compelling, passionate words that seemed to evoke such a vivaciousness in you.

You started bringing batches of baked goods on Sundays too. Nothing extravagant, but something for the worshipers to enjoy after. There was something in you, pushing you to do better, but on your own terms. Doing it for your own pleasure and not the pleasure of others.

You noticed how that laughter from the potluck was now a common thing. Smiles were normal. You heard people joking, and going for evening walks and morning jogs. Kisses and hugs.

Was there something in the air?

But while you were enjoying your new outlook on life, John could not be more worried for you. It had been two weeks now that he wasn’t able to give you the sacrament. He had tried once more after your first comment but he heard you say something to Bev about it.

Certainly you had a little of the gift in you…but it wasn’t enough. Perhaps a tablespoon. Only enough to make you feel a little brighter, but not enough to…to change. Revive.

He was at a loss.

But the more he prayed, the more he came to realize that perhaps it wasn’t your time. It would come. He knew it would. It had to. And when it did you too would be blessed…even if he was the one to bless you himself.

“Three weeks ago, when we began this journey of repentance, I asked those of you were here to keep a few words in mind. Rebirth, second chances, eternal life. That's a lot to wrap your head around, isn't it? I can barely visualize next week, let alone eternity, But, I mean, for most of us, eternity, it’s an abstract. It’s a metaphor, a colorful exaggeration. When we’re waiting for something we want, it takes forever.We sit in traffic for an eternity. Abstracts, metaphors, colorful exaggerations. To us, maybe, but not to God. Not to Him. ..” he said thoughtfully, “And it shouldn’t be for us, either. Communion, the transformation of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. A metaphor? No,” he slapped the pulpit, “God tells us. Miracles, walking on water, rising from the dead. Abstracts? No.” He slapped it again, “God tells us. Eternal life, a colorful exaggeration?”

You heard Wade say “no”, and the verbalisation made you jump a little. No one usually spoke.

“No? That’s right. You call it out.God’s gifts are as tangible as the ground beneath our feet,” he stomped the pedestal, and you jumped again.

“And His covenant, it’s not abstract. No. It’s a contract, scrawled in flesh, inked in the blood of the martyrs. And yet, try as we might, we cannot visualize, we cannot mentally picture the rewards promised…” you noticed him fan himself for a moment, and you were suddenly snapped from your trance.

Was he alright?

“Well, if you’re here seeking to know answers to the unknowable, it’s incumbent upon me to tell you that I have none. And if you want to know why or how God’s will shapes the world, brothers and sisters, so do I. I don’t have all the answers. Nobody does. What I do have though, and what God gives us plentifully, are mysteries.God gives us miracles very rarely, here and there, but mysteries?…”

Your worry began to grow when the Father stopped all together. He seemed to adjust himself where he stood, though somehow he still didn’t seem quite right.

“Sorry. Um…As… adults, we tend to dislike mysteries. We… We feel uncomfortable not knowing.No. To be a child. To look with awe and wonder, and live with staggering honesty. To be guiltless, light as air. To bend softly as the word of God sweeps…” he speech began to grow almost wandering. As if he wasn’t entirely lucid…almost like the old Monsignor-

John felt his stomach twitch with pain as he stood before his growing flock. He could barely see let alone think as his body seemed to betray itself.

“I’m very sorry. I’m…Sorry, I’m just a little bit tired today. A tiny dizzy spell. It’s passed. I’m fine. Sorry. I’m very sorry. Um…The more that we know, the less we bend. The more brittle we become, the easier to break. Like some would say this island broke. Was broken. But I am here to tell you…the resurrection, body and soul, the redemption, body and soul, the miracles waiting for us here on Crockett Island. Not metaphors, not abstracts, not colorful exaggerations, no. Rebirth, second chances. Eter…”

You watched in horror as Father Hill tumbled to the ground with a thud. There was a rush to help him, but your mind seemed to click into gear when you quickly grabbed one of the phones left on a pew and dialled Dr. Gunning’s office.

She barely got a word out before you; your voice shook as you spoke quickly, “The- Father Hill- he’s collapsed, please come up to the church, Doctor.” You rushed out.

“Calm down, calm down, is he breathing?” She said, calm as ever.

You stood quickly and rushed over to the crowd. Without a thought, you knelt beside the Father and placed your ear on his chest.

“What on earth-“ Bev started to ask, from her spot beside you, but you didn’t pay attention as you sat up again and put the phone to your ear.

“Yes he is.” You said.

“I’ll be there soon. Get him some air if he wakes up.” She sighed.

You nodded, and hung up.

“Well?” Bev snapped at you.

You blinked, “Dr. Gunning- She’ll be here soon…water- uh can- can someone get some cool water and a towel please?” You tried to think of anything you could do to help in the meantime.

Someone started to go, but it seemed Bev wanted to be involved. “I’ll get it.” She huffed and disappeared from your side.

Wade crouched beside you, and checked over Father Hill. He looked over at you and you gave him a reassuring smile. “I think the Father could use some air, Mr.Mayor.”

He nodded and looked up that the distressed crowd.

“It’s alright everyone. If he could get some room please? He needs extra air…Sturge could you open the door please?” Wade asked.

The man in question nodded and did as he asked while the townspeople began to disperse.

Bev returned a moment later and you took the cloth from her and dampened it from the bowl of water.

“Thank you…” you mumbled, then very gently began to dab at Father Hill’s forehead, then at the skin peaking out from his chasuble around his neck.

A few minutes passed with Beverly fussing in the background, but slowly you noticed his colour returning, and eyes start to flicker until they opened slowly. You felt relief fill you up and you sighed.

John gazed up at you and he swore there was a halo surrounding your head as you sat over him. Your brows scrunched in worry, but your watchful eyes gazing down at him.

“Glory be…” Came his whisper.

You looked down at him and wiped his brow once more. The man blinked a few more times then went to sit up, but several hands rushed to keep him down.

“Slowly, Father…slowly.” Someone said.

You helped the Father rise up to sit, and dabbed the back of his neck. “You passed out Father.” you said.

“I’m sorry- so sorry…” he nodded. grinding his teeth slightly when a wave of pain hit him, “I’m…uh not sure what’s wrong with me today.” He said as humorously as he could, though both he and the islanders knew there was nothing to joke about.

Even as you watched Sturge and Wade help him into the rectory with Sarah and Bev, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something gravely wrong with him. Not that you have ever exactly noticed anything…but certainly there were times where he seemed to almost clench, and work through a minor pain- covering it with a cough or stretch. Things that were so barely there you wouldn’t even think twice.

While that day was your day to yourself and the shop was closed, you found that you were listless. Worried, curious. Fretting.

So silly really.

You mindlessly baked a batch of muffins, and remembered halfway through how much the Father liked them. On more than one occasion he had stopped by to purchase a few.

You put a few in a container, and set out on your bike across the island. You hoped he was doing well… if he didn’t answer you were content with just leaving them on his stoop, though you found yourself wanting to see for yourself that he was alright.

You leaned your bike by the church, and strode over to the rectory. It was still afternoon, and you hoped you could catch him before he went to the Gunnings. You thought it was so sweet that he did that for Mildred.

You knocked, and waited. It was quiet for a long moment, then the door opened slowly. Father Hill stood before you disheveled. His top button was undone, collar missing, and his hair looked to have been brushed back with his fingers.

“Oh- y/n please…come in.” He moved aside.

You looked to the side then slowly walked into the small home. It was cozy and simple. It felt warm. “I’m so sorry for bothering you father…I’m sure you’ve had plenty of people coming by to check on you…” you trailed off, looking for a spot to but the container down.

“Nonsense…I was hoping you could come actually…” he said quietly, gingerly perching against the edge of the kitchen counter, “I wanted to thank you.”

That caught you off guard.

You blinked, and shook your head, “What for?”

“For extending that helping hand of yours to me. It was a joy to be helped by you. A blessing- you are a uh, a blessing.” Father Hill stared back at you like he meant every word he said and more, though you couldn’t help but notice the slightly delirious stare he had.

You hadn’t expected anything like this when you had set out to drop off the muffins still in your hands, but you found yourself growing warm at his praise.

“I-well I just…-“

“Just what? Did what anyone would do?” He cut you off, smiling a little wearily.

“Yes…”you admitted.

“And did anyone else do what you did?” He prodded, head tilting so slightly to the side.

You looked down, then back up at him, and shook your head.

“And now you come here again to my aid with something that is not a casserole you see you truly are just wonderful.” He smiled a little more, and you did too, and laughed.

“Ah… the Crockett islanders at their finest. If ever you’re sick you will have at least a few of those in your fridge by night fall.” You joked, though it was true, “I- um I remember you liked those muffins that I made last week and I was worr- I made some extra and thought you might like them.” You caught yourself.

“Thank you, dear girl…” he said, but winced when he went to say something else. You placed the container down on the counter beside him and gently put your hand on his arm.

“Father? Are you feeling dizzy?” You asked.

“I- I am just a little…” he admitted, blinking a few times to get through the fog.

“I’ll help you to your room. Rest for a while, alright?” You took his arm and slowly directed him to the back of the rectory where you assumed he slept.

“I’m fine…just tired.” He tried to reassure you.

“I’m sure you are Father.” You walked him to the edge of his bed, and sat him down, “Rest. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“You’re a good girl, y/n, thank you. You’ve made this adjustment blessedly easy.” He told you, staring up at you.

You saw something in his weary gaze then. You didn’t know what it was. But you somehow noted it in your mind.

You squeezed the hand of his that held yours, “Rest, Father. God willing, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Father Paul nodded, “You will.” He smiled weakly.

You released his hand, and gave him a small wave before leaving the small house. You felt sorry for the man being all alone there, but you were sure Bev would be by to pester him soon if she hadn’t already.

Then as you picked your bike up, you heard the crunching of gravel under shoes. You looked up to see the very woman. “Hello Bev.” You called to her.

“Ah, y/n. I do hope you haven’t bothered Father Hill too much.” She smiled tersely.

“Not at all. Just dropped off something that wasn’t a casserole.” You smiled a little more genuine.

“Well, thank you for your contribution. Very kind.” With that she turned and began to walk past you. You half considered telling her he was resting, but you knew it wouldn’t deter her. You sighed, and peddled away.

Another shift had begun around you. Off balanced.

You noticed it in small things.

Not necessarily bad, but not especially good. Less and less wildlife hummed around the bushes and trees, and you noticed how there was such a divide between the attitudes of church goers and non. Conversing with someone who didn’t attend now felt like a bucket of cold water in comparison to those who you saw regularly. Like there was a bubble around the parishioners. And you weren’t certain you liked that.

Your worry only deepened when you went to Mass the next morning only to see that it would be candelled that day. A frown tugged at your mouth, though you tried to not think too much about it. The Father was ill, you knew that. It was nothing else but that.

It wasn’t as if you knew that the very man was dodging the gaps in the curtains to look out at his flock returning to their homes and jobs without their daily Mass. And of course there you stood- a worried look muddling your beautiful face.

Had you always been so pretty?

Vibrant.

A halo around your hair where the sun caught it.

John watched you back away from the church, though he saw you clench and unclench your hands and look to and from the church to the rectory. You wanted to check on him. Such a dutiful lamb.

Something visceral in him made him nearly open the door and call you inside. Beckon you to him. Just as he felt that need there was an ache in his mouth like he needed to bite, hard. A side affect to…to dying he supposed. He put his trust in God but this hurt was unbearable.

John prayed and wept and doubled over as he accepted and waded through the pain. The bulk of it finally subsided by the evening. It seemed almost as if as soon as the sun had gone down his body relaxed.

Just a little.

Enough to make himself look presentable, and step out from his front door no matter how nervously.

Like his body knew he was safe with the sun down. No more burns.

As he strode across the island, John found himself marvelling at the new-found beauty around him. Living halos of light around the stars, and lamplights. Colours and smells and sounds he had never experienced. He could almost feel the earth breathe.

Seeing Millie in her home that night was something special. She remembered him. Saw him. He could have weapt just by seeing the look of recognition on her face. Feeling her hands hold his and that smile. John’s heart ached.

As did his stomach. Painfully.

So hungry.

John hurried along after the little reprieve with Mildred, but found himself taking a little detour. He didn’t mean to; his feet just took him that way. Just a little bit of a longer walk home.

Past your house.

Your curtains were open again.

John found himself walking a little closer, something enticing drawing him in. He stood just outside your window. You were just getting ready for bed…he could almost smell you; all fresh from the shower.

John sighed, then winced when another surge of hunger punched his stomach. That ache he had felt in his jaw returned tenfold, and he felt his vision start to fade.

There was nothing to do but get back to the rectory. Quickly. John employed his long strides and muttered prayers under his breath. He needed to be away. Hide. There was no preparation for this next phase of revival. He wasn’t ready. This deep carnal hunger was eating away at him. He needed more of the sacrament.

Now.

He needed help. John paced the rectory, and felt his nerves and veins and muscles and tendons tugging at him, begging him for nourishment. Feed me, Father, feed me.

“Angel of God my, guardian dear to whom Gods love commits me here…”

He mindlessly grasped the bottle of communion wine, and let it empty down the back of his throat yet it somehow wasn’t enough. He needed more.

More more-

“Uh…Father?”

Something deep inside John Pruitt unfurled then. It began to seep into his tissue and into his bloodstream. John turned, startled.

“Oh…Hello Joe.”

The following morning was a little bit of a slow one for you. You half considered calling the rectory just to see if there would indeed be Mass at all, but decided against it. You brushed your hair, and tied it back; grabbed any extra ingredients you needed for the morning and set off.

Even as you kneaded the doughs and whipped cream and stirred batter you found yourself lagging.

The walk to Mass was slow too.

Off kilter.

You took your usual seat, but your brows pinch together when you saw Ali sitting not too far from you. You looked to see if Hassan had come with him, but to only deepen your confusion, he was alone. You leaned forward a little in your pew, “Ali?” You murmured loud enough for him.

The boy jumped a little, but relaxed when he saw it was you.

“Come.” You smiled and patted the spot beside you, and he instantly looked grateful. Ali stood and made his way back to you, and you sent him another smile as he sat. You didn’t ask him why he was there, it wasn’t your business. You had always liked Ali- a sweet boy with good manners for the most part.

Then, you looked to the other side of the church, and noticed that Erin was missing. She never missed Sunday Mass. Never.

Something in your stomach curled tight.

An anxious feeling of anticipation.

Without the presence of Father Hill to envelope the church, you found yourself gazing around the building. You looked at the windows, and the pews until your gaze fell upon the wooden figure of Jesus crucified.

Had it always been so grotesque?

Were you worshiping a man? God was supposed to be a being that governed over everything…omnipotent…why would he descend to earth in the body of a man? Why would he need to if he created messengers like Moses and Noah and so many others…

Your mind began to spin out of control until you were starting to wonder what you were doing there.

The distress you felt only grew deeper when a half hour passed, and Father Hill still hadn’t made an appearance. You looked over at Annie, then even looked up at that back of Bev’s head as if she might have an answer written there.

Finally the woman had had enough and made her way to the rectory. You perched on your seat, waiting for anything to happen. It was nearly another twenty minutes that passed before Bev returned- faux smile already on her face as she took a spot upon the pulpit.

“Good morning!” She began, “Well I have to tell you it is such a delight to see this church so full every day, thank God. I'm afraid this morning though that we have to - well, I think we'll have to cancel Mass.”

You scrunched your brows in surprise. But then that feeling you had had inside you tilted again, a little more in the wrong direction. Twisting. You felt nauseated.

“Father Paul's bouncing back from a stomach bug, poor thing, and I just had to physically restrain the dear man and put him to bed, he was so determined to be here! He'll be back on his feet in just no time at all but this morning, at least, our dear Dolly Scarborough - come up here Dolly…” she encouraged Dolly to come up beside her, and while the good natured woman did, she was just as confused as the rest of the churchgoers.

There had certainly been times with Monsignor Pruitt when his health was hanging by a thread and Mass was cancelled but…Father Hill was in prime condition how could he still be so ill?

“Uh, maybe Dolly can lead us in singing, and some readings, and some prayer, and we can still celebrate together, like the Christians of old, who sang praises to God long before they had priests to lead the way. Uh let’s start with Hymn number 473, "Be Thou My Vision". Dolly, can you lead us?” Bev looked over to Andy who began to play his organ, and slowly everyone followed Dolly’s singing.

But then you watched as Bev began to leave again, this time accompanied by Sturge and Wade. They disappeared out through the vestibule, and you mentally snapped yourself back from trying to see what happened.

Your curiosity started to gnaw at you so badly you almost missed the cue to sit down.

Mass ended simply…or rather it deflated. A somewhat awkward shuffle out the door was the end of Mass that day. Murmurs and worries stares at the rectory as everyone filed out and meandered down the hill to Main street.

You glanced over to the rectory, and paused when you saw Bev exit. You moved a little back from the entrance along the side of the church to catch her.

“You’re sure Father Hill is alright?” You asked her as she strode to the back door of the church.

“Just fine. In need of a little more rest we think. Nothing to worry about.” She said a little more brightly than usual. You felt in your gut there was a lie in her words.

“Annie’s making a hearty stew tonight I could stop by and bring him some-“

“No!” She snapped, then softened a little when she saw how startled you were, “No, no he needs to be undisturbed today. Thank you, y/n. Bless you.”

You nodded slowly, and flicked your eyes over to the small building. You could have sworn you saw the curtain move.

“Alright, Bev…take care.” You said. Something was making your nerves itch under your skin. Like an internal fear response that you didn’t usually need.

A cord was plucked inside you.

A voice inside you telling you to leave.

It wasn’t that Bev had snapped at you, or that you felt she was hiding something. It was that St. Patrick’s had always been a place of peace and safety for you, and now you found yourself wanting to be far from it. You feet almost itching to run.

You didn’t run. But you did walk quickly. You wished you had taken your bike that day.

You cast one last look at the rectory. Sturge and Wade still hadn’t come out.

Your feet acted for you, and carried you away from the church. Away from that itch.

Once the general store came into view, you hesitated in going directly to your shop. Since Mass had ended early, you didn’t need to start deliveries yet; instead, you walked into the store, and towards the sheriffs office. You waved at the old man working at the counter- Gerald- and knocked on the officers door.

“Come.” Came his voice.

You opened the door, and sure enough, Hassan was seated at his desk, reading a paper from a file on his desk.

“What can I- oh.” He said, then stopped upon seeing you, “Y/n? Everything alright?” He was suddenly concerned at the prospect of you coming to his office.

Your eyes widened, “Oh- yes fine. Sorry um…I just… I don’t know if you want to…talk about it but…I saw Ali today. At Mass.”

Hassan sighed heavily, “Ah…yeah he…” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Curious?” You asked.

But the man only sighed again, “I love that my son is interested in God and looking for him…but…” he started.

“But you already have God.” You finished for him.

He nodded, “He’s not praying with me anymore…we fight…he just…I can’t lose him.”

You nodded, “I know…I can keep an eye on him, if you’d like?” You offered a little weakly- you knew there wasn’t much you could do.

“Thank you…I don’t want to discourage him but …he’s not Christian. He knows why we’re Muslim and it’s…” he didn’t know where to start with the issue. “Bev Keene handed out bibles at school last week. Since then…” he look his head, “I think he mostly is interested in it because he wants to fit in.” Hassan sighed and rubbed his brow.

You nodded, “I’m sorry Hassan…this…this must be hard to watch. Doesn’t help that he’s a teenager. Teens are…difficult to reason with.”

He huffed out a bitter laugh, “I only pray that he returns to his faith.”

“God willing, he will.” You didn’t know how to comfort the man, but it seemed that just having someone there helped.

“Inshallah…” he muttered.

You tilted your head in question.

“Means “God willing.”…” he explained.

“Ah…” you said. Silence filled the office, and you clasped your hands. “There’s…have you thought about asking to be stationed somewhere else? Maybe somewhere with other Muslims? He might just be missing that connection…”

“I’ve thought about it…hard to uproot a kid again though.” He crossed his arms.

You wanted to help him. You really wanted to help. This man was alone, and was practically ostracized by the very town he was supposed to protect and serve. You were almost certain you were the closest thing he had to a friend, and you needed to say something.

“You know…I don’t really fully believe Jesus is God.” You blurted out.

He looked up at you then.

You flushed. You hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, “Sorry…I just…just because I go to Mass doesn’t mean I believe everything.”

“Aren’t you Christian?” He asked.

“I…used to be. It’s more of a habit that I go to church. Been going since I was a kid. But…when you first came here that was the first time I heard about Islam…properly. You don’t believe Jesus was god either right?” You asked.

He shook his head.

“He was just another messenger…prophet. I did some reading a while ago and I found that the holy trinity is actually a new thing in Christianity…and I began to wonder what else was “new” or what had been taken out…I guess I’m just trying to say that…Ali might look for God somewhere else but you never know…he might find that the church is flawed and just come right back to you and Allah.” You mused.

Hassan felt tears prick at his eyes. “Thank y/n…thank you.”

You smiled, and nodded, “I’ll um…I’ll leave you to it. Come by later. Lunch is on me.”

“You’re gonna make me fat.” He grumbled

“A little pudge is cute.” You shrugged as you opened the door.

“You’re a bad influence.” He shot back- his walls back up as the door to the outside opened- literally.

“Guess you’ll just have to lock me away, sheriff!” You chirped, and smiled, then closed the door.

But as you turned away and walked back through the shop, that smile faded away.

Everything was changing.

Fast…so fast. Hassan and Ali had been on Crockett for close to a year, and you had never heard Ali mention something about church.

You knew the miracle with Leeza had been drawing many people in, but you could still accept it as a miracle without changing your beliefs.

Did he just want to fit in?

Was he just curious?

Then you remembered how you had felt that morning as you waited for Father Hill. That feeling of trepidation that seeded in your navel and seared into your fingertips.

When you unlocked the door to your shop, you wondered if it was because there was nothing to distract you as you sat in the church. Everyday there was something to keep you busy- the doddering Monsignor or now the invigorating Father. Something to guide you. But once you were left with your thoughts…you started to think a little too much.

Now you weren’t stupid- far from it. You thought a lot. Constantly. But there was something pressing about sitting in that church. You almost felt like you had woken up when you had stood outside the rectory.

Nervous.

Yes you had felt…so nervous as Bev stood there with you.

You wondered if that was how lambs felt before they were taken for slaughter.

Oh what a gruesome thought…pull yourself together.

You were spiralling into the morbid.

Tomorrow would be better.

You focused on that. Yes. Yes tomorrow would be better.

GOOD FRIDAY MASS AT 8PM

E4STER VIGIL SUN MIDNIG-

You watched as Sturge finished with the H and T.

That chord in you struck again. You twitched. The dread in your stomach rolling around like a marble on a metal track.

Leeza stood beside you, confused as ever, “Wait…you're saying every night? No morning Masses at all?” She asked.

Sturge sighed, “Time being.”

Your brows scrunched up, but you schooled your expression when Leeza looked over at you. No need to let her see your worry.

“Father Paul probably just needs another morning or two to recover from that head cold- but he’ll be up and about tonight. Isn’t that right Sturge?” Wade tried to reassure the crowd as a good mayor should, but you knew Wade. And you knew something wasn’t right.

“Yessir, spoke with him myself this morning’…feeling’ much better.” Sturge agreed.

You looked over at the weathered man, and noted that he was off too.

Rehearsed.

You made Sturge a birthday cake every year and the extent of his appreciation was a “Thanks.” Sturge was never a man of many words, and defiantly wouldn’t over explain something.

Wade nodded now, “Dolly spoke to him too and he had a few things to say about Good Friday isn’t that right, honey?” He asked his wife.

You turned to the woman in question, and saw that she was looking somewhere else.

“Dolly?” You heard Wade say, but he trailed off

You saw what she was looking at, and you understood why. You had seen Mildred Gunning now a few times on your deliveries to her house, but seeing her up and walking outside made you stop short. Certainly you had noticed how she was practically aging backwards, but you had only assumed Sarah was trying a new treatment for her.

But this. The walk across the island was a half hour on a good day. And there she was in her Sunday best.

The crowd of islanders began murmuring amongst themselves, and began embracing the older woman. You held back just a little, though your practiced smile was on your face. Your eyes found Sarah beside her, and somehow you weren’t sure if you found solace or anxiety in what you saw there.

She had the same look on her face that you were hiding on yours under your smile.

It wasn’t grim, but it wasn’t joyous.

You slowly began back into town. You missed Mass. You missed that energy that the good Father Hill brought to the church. You missed-

You shook yourself.

Stop it.

What’s wrong with you?

Suddenly, that perfect little routine you had made for yourself for years…was crumbling. You no longer felt the peace you once did, and now it seemed you had to flip the routine completely.

Nightly Mass.

You pursed your lips.

“Have a minute?”

You turned and saw the Sheriff coming towards you as you unlocked your door.

You nodded and grinned softly, “Morning, sure thing.”

The two of you entered the little store and you closed it behind you.

“Everything okay?” You asked when Hassan stood quietly.

“You know that kid, Bowl?” He asked.

You blinked, “Sure I do. Bit of a troubled kid.”

Hassan nodded, “You seen him lately?”

You frowned, “Can’t say I have.”

“Alright…worth a shot. You’re the youngest one here aside from the kids so…just wanted to ask.” He sighed.

“I’m sorry…” you wrung your hands, “Have um…have you seen Joe lately?” You asked, suddenly remembering the quietness in the sheriffs office and lack of grumbled greetings.

At that the sheriff hung his head a little, “No…no but I need to speak to him…I’ll let you know if I find him.”

You took a breath in and held it a little to try and calm yourself, “Alright.”

“I’ll see you later, y/n. Don’t work too hard.” He murmured, as he opened the door.

“You too, Hassan.” You said a little absentmindedly.

He left you to your thoughts. With Mass cancelled again, you had far too much time to kill before you really needed to start deliveries.

You sat on your little stool behind the counter, and found a book Father Hill had lent you almost a week ago under your receipt box.

The Divine Comedy: Dante’s inferno.

You began to read. Too afraid to let your thoughts run rampant again.

Nightime wasn’t much better. You felt something pulling in you to go and visit the rectory. No one outside of the Scarboroughs, Sturge and Bev had seen the Father, and there was that nagging feeling in you that you needed to see if he was alright. Why couldn’t he just come out to tell everyone he was on the mend? What was there all this dancing around?

You stood on your porch, cardigan pulled tight around you as you fought with yourself internally.

Then, just as you went to take a step, a gust of wind pushed you back. You felt that anxiety strum within you once again. Your gut cried to you to not go, and with blood running cold, you went inside and shut the door.

You closed your curtains that night, and prayed to any God that would listen. You didn’t know why fear had rooted itself so deep within your heart, and somehow that frightened you more.

You were afraid.

So afraid.

Good Friday. You put on that dress your mom had gotten you last year for Christmas- she said it brought out your eyes. You grabbed a warm sweater, and socks, and left for Mass.

It was strange walking across the island as the sun set. You strode calmly, pushing that nagging feeling that sat in the back of your throat away.

“Y/n!”

You turned and saw Sarah and Mildred walking behind you not too far. You smiled, “Hello you two!” You chirped. You might have been suffering from an internal turmoil but you weren’t about to let them know.

“Sarah, Mrs.Gunning. Happy to see you both coming tonight.” You smiled and fell into step with them.

Mildred nodded, “It’s been years…” she mused, then stopped and held your arm, “You’ve been so good to us over the years, dear…Sarah’s been telling me and…I wanted to thank you.”

You waved her off and smiled, “Oh it was nothing. Happy to make your lives easier.”

“You have…really. Thank you.” Sarah nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

“You’re a good girl, y/n.” Mildred smiled gently.

You returned it, “Come on…hopefully Father Hill is well enough to preach today.”

The three of you walked the rest of the way, and you noticed how many times Mildred was stared at. She smiled and nodded when people looked, breaking any tension. Then as you walked up to the church, you saw Bev standing to greet the parishioners.

You smiled at her, though she looked straight past you to greet Mildred. You nodded to Sarah, and left them there to talk.

You took your seat, and not long after, the Gunnings took theirs directly in front of you. You wondered if that was where Mildred used to sit before she grew too ill.

Several more minutes passed, until you heard that low voice of the good father from the door of the church to begin service, “All rise for our processional hymn- number 139 in the red hymnal: At the cross , at the cross.”

You rose to your feet, and began to sing, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved that Father Hill was alright. It had been days since only a couple people saw him, and while you would never assume any deception from your elders…the secrecy seemed so strange.

“They took the body of Jesus, and bound it with the burial cloths along with the spices, according to the Jewish burial custom.” Dolly stood on the pulpit, reading from her bible. The church was full around you, and you found yourself slowly feeling at ease. You felt so silly for having been distressed.

“Now in the place where he had been crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden, a new tomb in which no one had yet been buried. So, they laid Jesus there because of the Jewish preparation day. For the tomb was close by. The Gospel of the Lord.” She finished.

“Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.” You and the other churchgoers answered.

Then as soon as Dolly stepped down, you found your eyes locked onto Father Hill as he took his place. You took a moment to take him in after it being a few days of not seeing him. Indeed he did look well- skin no longer waxy and pale. There was something else to his presence though, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It almost felt like…home. What you came for. What you took comfort in.

That thought startled you.

“Good Friday. This is one of my favorite days of the year. The passion of our Lord. Just that word, “passion.” The word “passion,” it means a strong and barely controllable emotion. Barely controllable. That’s what Jesus felt when he gave his life for us, so that we might have life eternal. What a gift, told so beautifully in the Gospel of John. “Gospel” means good news! Good news on Good Friday. And yet, it’s a story of such profound suffering. What’s so good about that?” He paused to take in the filled church. You could see the pride he felt having brought the community together. You smiled a little.

“Jesus’s suffering in this story, it isn’t simply necessary. It is good. It is the price of eternal life. That suffering, he endures alone. At the Resurrection, he is alone. And then… Well… Ah, he has a few allies. And then more. A congregation. And then more and more people spread that good news. Tell that good story. And then, God has an army. What do they say in that commercial? Uh, “Be all that you can be.” Well, I mean no offense to the armed services, which are necessary and of course honorable, but that’s not all that you can be. In the Army, you’re fighting for God and country.”

You heard a few people murmur amongst you; admiration shining in their eyes as they listens to their preacher.

“Now, I am going to offend you now, but it is the truth. God does not want you to fight for this country. The arrogance… of that. God has no country. There is one God for the world. And the lines we draw, and the treaties we draft, and the borders we close mean nothing to Him. No, don’t fight for a country. You fight for God’s kingdom. A kingdom which Jesus tells us has no flags or borders. God’s army.”

You felt your throat tighten and your nose prickle.

“Now make no mistake. It is a war. That’s what an army is for.So, as a congregation, as God’s army, how do we know how the fight is going? We can’t see it. We can’t radio HQ for a status report. All we have, all God gives us, is right here.” He pointed to his chest, “How we feel. That moral compass inside each one of us pointing due north to the Holy Spirit. Conscience. In the army of God, conscience is standard issue. There are many like it, but this one is mine. You may think that that’s a line from a war movie, but it isn’t. That’s actually the Rifleman’s Creed. And a creed is, by definition, not just a belief, but it is a religious one. ” You could feel yourself hang onto each word. Rapt.

“So, it is a war, and there will be casualties. And we must be soldiers. That is what Good Friday is about. God will ask horrible things of you. Horrible. Just look at what He asked of His own son. Just look at what Jesus had to endure today. We had to call it the “New Covenant,” because God’s will, while perfect, changes.God’s will dictates morality, and as God’s will changes, so does morality change. It changed with the New Covenant. It changed when Jesus came, and we must, as his army, shed the Old Covenant and listen only to that. You rely on that compass. Good Friday is only good. The Gospel of the Lord, so full of horror, is only good, because of where it is headed. The Resurrection. Today is only good because of what’s coming Easter, this Sunday. When Jesus is risen, and death itself is lain dead. What is otherwise horrible is good because of where it’s headed. Welcome to God’s army. Yeah, we’re gonna do great things.”

Your blood rushed in your ears as Father Hill finished.

You somehow felt refreshed…full. You supposed you needed that sense of belonging amongst the other islanders. But when you went to converse with the Gunnings, you were surprised to see them already shuffling out towards the door as soon as Sturge had opened them. You wondered if perhaps it was all too tiring for Mildred and they needed to get home soon.

You sighed, and stood to find Annie. She was there with Ed, but they seemed off too. “Hi Annie, Ed…any plans for Easter?” You asked as you joined them in the thinning crowd.

But then you saw the anxiety in the older woman’s eyes. You knew instantly that something was very wrong. “Annie?” You asked, putting a hand on her arm.

“Oh it…it’s nothing. You know me.” She waved it off, “We uh were thinking of having a nice family dinner. You’re welcome to come of course.” She forced a smile.

You waited patiently with a gentle nod until she told you what was going on. She always did.

“Riley…he- we haven’t seen him all day.” She finally said.

Your brows pitched in worry, “Oh I’m- I’m sorry…maybe he’s with Erin? They’re close right?” You asked, trying to keep their spirits up.

“Probably. Like I said it’s nothing.” She reassured you again, “Anyways, isn’t that the dress your mom got you? What was it…your birthday last year?” She changed the subject, and you let her.

“Christmas.” You smiled, “Thought I’d pull it out of the closet.”

“You look lovely. See you tomorrow?” She asked, already moving out and down the aisle with the remaining parishioners and pulling Ed with her.

“Most likely! You know me…always around.” You nodded, following after them.

“Take care now!” She called back, and her husband gave you a small wave before they disappeared down the stairs and onto the road.

Now left to your solitude, you felt butterflies take wing in your stomach. You sucked in a breath, and began down the stairs after saying goodbye to another few islanders you knew speaking to Bev. You stepped outside, head a little in the clouds when you nearly jumped.

“There she is. How are you, my dear girl?” Father Hill stood at the bottom of the stairs wishing each of his flock goodbye.

You looked up at him as you came to stand beside him. But he wasn’t as vibrant as he usually was. You noticed a certain darkness in his eyes…

Of course he looks like that he’s been sick for days

You mentally throttled yourself.

“I’m well, thank you Father. You seem better.” You smiled a little, though perhaps not as wide as usual.

He noticed.

“Yes…yes much, thank you. Everyone has been so accommodating with me…so helpful. Good people.” He mused.

You nodded, “They are.”

John could almost feel your pulse in his head as you gazed up at him- so docile. The light from St. Patrick’s spilled over you and lit you like a holy revelation. He could smell your skin from his place a few feet away…could tell that you washed your hair not too long ago. But despite the loveliness of having you so close, John knew something in you was shifting.

You were more…anxious. Looking for justification to trust.

Skittish but still coming to his presence so diligently.

Like you didn’t even know what you were afraid of.

No need to fear sweet lamb…I am with you…

You started to shift away from him then, but it almost seemed like he didn’t quite want you to go. His gaze still locked onto you. “I trust I’ll see you on Sunday?”

You laughed a little, “No, no I think I’ll skip it.”

His face seemed to fall for a moment, but when you didn’t stop smiling it clicked that you were joking. “Oh- yes…you’re kidding.” He smiled with you, “Please do come. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Father Paul added earnestly.

You felt that tug in your chest just like when you had gone to the rectory to speak with him weeks ago.

You felt seen.

Appreciated.

“Well I…I’ll be there, Father. Rest.” You said, backing away, “Have a blessed night!”

John took a slow step toward you, but no more than that. He knew not to press his luck with your trust. Didn’t want to scare you off.

“And you, y/n.” He waved to you.

You turned and began your walk. But just as you had felt at home when Mass had begun, you felt a little empty as you walked away. You felt that tug grow more insistent the further you went; so much so that you turned before descending the hill to look back.

Father Hill was in discussion with Wade, but once you stood still, his head snapped to you.

You startled a little.

But it wasn’t so much the fact that he noticed you.

It was the strangest thing…you could have sworn you saw the light of the church catch his eyes and make them glint in the dark.

It happened so fast that you told yourself you just needed your day off. You were just tired.

You needed some sleep.

That was why you felt the contentment you had just been floating on start to drain away. That was why you felt so at ease when the Father spoke to you. Just tired.

You had no way of knowing then that it was the little bit of tainted blood in your system that was calling out to its patron. That it was humming around the others who shared the gift too…communicating internally with one another- somehow knowing that you’re like them.

By the time you were home, you felt as if the weight of the world was yours to uphold. Worry began to consume you as your thoughts swirled in the silence.

Riley was missing.

Joe was missing.

Pike was dead.

Bowl was missing.

You stopped brushing your hair for a moment. You hadn’t thought of the strange happenings like that before. Indeed there was quite a few. You had lived on Crockett your whole life you knew that the maximum a person could go missing for was a day and that was pushing it.

How long had Joe been missing…?

Your gut began to twist again, and you almost fell to your knees when you knelt to pray.

You didn’t know what was happening to you. To your home.

Fear began to encircle your heart, and you almost considered running back to the church to sleep on a pew.

You felt alone.

For the first time in a long time, you felt so very alone.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@littleredwritingcat @zaunite-leo @f4er1e-g1rl @purplemotif @vampyre-kin @professional-sinner @hamishlinklaters @spacechupss @pansexualpamandabear @ebiemidnightlibrarian @erialuna @nilla-bear

#midnight mass #hamish linklater #father paul hill #father john pruitt x reader #father john pruitt #forgive me father for i have sinned #father paul hill x reader #flanaverse #midnight mass fanfiction

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koolades-world · 4 months

Note

Can you do headcanons with all the characters of an MC that has scars on their body from maybe a car crash years ago and how they would react to seeing them? Can you also do an MC who’s really insecure about them and tries to hide them?

Please and thank you 🙏🙏🙏🙏

hello! sure thing :)

idk why this one got so long? slight angst warning for belphie's (lesson 16 reference) actually might write belphie's as a drabble! if y'all are interested in seeing the others as drabbles too, let me know!

enjoy <3

Mc who's insecure about scars from a car crash

Lucifer

he didn't think much of it, since he too prefers clothing that covers basically everything, even down to gloves however, the attention to detail came down to how you behaved and the way in which you vehemently avoided any situation in which you'd have to change into something you hadn't selected or needed to wear something more revealing

one late night, you ran into each other in the kitchen, and while he expected it to be beel, raiding the fridge again but he found you crying on the floor

of course, he asked what was wrong, and while at first you didn't say anything, he stayed by your side. when the tears had slowed down and you could speak again, you told him it was the anniversary of the devastating car crash and you confessed how much it took from you

that was the first time lucifer had ever hugged you, and for once, you felt at home in the devildom. for the years to come, he makes sure to spend that entire day with you to make you feel loved

Mammon

he's the first to see them and learn of their existence because of how quickly the two of you grow close. you had many movies nights together where you ended up asleep on his shoulder and he caught glances of the scars

he never asked, but he was forever curious. he wanted to wait for you to tell the story rather than intrude on your privacy, even if that meant he never learnt

eventually after you deliberated with yourself, during one of those movie nights, you turned to him and told him everything after mentally debating

you could tell you'd help satiate his curiosity, but of course he was very sweet about it. he starts coming home with things he knows will make you feel gorgeous and expects nothing in return

Levi

the two of you spend a lot of time gaming, reading, and watching anime together. your favorite characters are said to be a reflection of you, and he noticed that pattern after enough time

now, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that information, how he would even start to go about addressing that, or if it was just him and he was looking into it too much. maybe you just had a certain type you enjoyed, although part of him hoped it wasn't that, because that would mean your type wasn't him

nevertheless, he kept this information to himself and dwelled on it until one night, you brought that very topic up yourself. at first you hesitated, but once he told you to think of it as your "lore" you became more comfortable with the situation and told him

he wasn't quite sure what to say, but offered you comfort. you spent the rest of the night watching your favorite anime and from then on, you got to see this more gentle, loving side of him more often. maybe one day, he'd tell you about his "lore" in depth too

Satan

he felt like the entire situation was something right out of a romance novel, where the two main characters slowly grow closer like the two of you were, and the exchanging of backstory that inevitable happens at some point

but, he didn't expect yours to include something so devastating in nature and how it affected your life in the aftermath. he's amazed at the way you have been healing yourself over the followings years. he admires your strength, and he knows that the scars and accident don't define you

you spent most of your evenings together, either at an outing or just at home together. it was one of these evening sessions by the fireplace together in the living room where the two of you were cuddling, and he noticed them on your shoulders. of course he didn't mention it, but you noticed him looking

since there was nobody else around, you decided to tell him since you would've at some point eventually. he doesn't make a big deal out of it because you didn't, but he lets you know if you ever need someone to talk to, he would be there

Asmo

he noticed that your entire wardrobe, including sleepwear and formalwear was all long sleeve and basically covered you head to toe

to try and get closer to you, he took you shopping and still saw you only picked out things that fit into your current wardrobe despite seriously eyeing several other pieces of clothing that were short sleeved. you didn't get them, but he could tell you wanted them, so as a surprise, he bought all of the items for you and presented it as a gift

through your tears, you thanked him and decided to tell him why you didn't get them. he apologizes profusely, but you tell him it was alright and that one day, you'd wear them

once you're finally closer, you wear one of the short sleeved pajama sets to a sleepover with just him, and he can feel his heart swell with the amount of trust you'd put in his hands. expect to be pampered <333

Beel

while he's not the first to see them, he was the first to catch on to their existence. he's very good with reading your emotions and could easily tell when you were uncomfortable. every time, he saved you from the situation but he was afraid of how you might feel when he wasn't around

the two of you had just gotten done with a jog that ended in a park, where the two of you sat in the grass to relax before headed home. while there, your conversation got rather deep and you ended up discussing thing you never thought might slip out

the manner in which you told him was detached and while you mentioned it in passing, beel was insistent you go back to that topic. he held you close, despite the fact that you were both sweaty and gross, because the thing that mattered most to him was how you felt

of course he wouldn't pry, and he didn't, but he will guard your secret with his life now. anytime you need him or just want to talk, or need a hug, he's there unconditionally

Belphie

when you initially met, when he was imprisoned in the attic and you thought he was human like he claimed he was, whenever you'd chat he could tell there was something you were holding back

he asked upfront what the matter was, not realizing he'd strike such a nerve. you took it not how he expected you to and you stormed off, upset. he was concerned he'd jeopardized his plan but there wasn't anything he could do about it now

later that night you returned, you had cooled off and apologized, and told him why you had been so disturbed by his comment. you showed him the few on your upper back and neck, and told your story. he almost felt bad about what he'd done

when he held you aloft by your neck, that same part of him that felt guilty chimed in again and made him remembered the scars you'd shown him and the kinship you thought you shared together, when you thought he was a human. it was a shame not all of him felt sorry for you

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me!#obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #omswd

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ursuburbanmother · 6 months

Text

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Two

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Hi guys! Back with chapter two!! Thank you for all the love last chapter! You guys are too sweet! I hope you like this chapter as well, although we get a little angsty in this one oops. Also author note at the end!

Word count: 5k.

Find: Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 17, 1970. Still.

Paul Hunham didn’t think his luck could get any worse but then that moron at the Janie Patrick's Girl School had to go make his problems, his. Then at the young lady’s arrival Angus Tully practically had hearts popping out his eyes like those cartoon characters on TV. That would be an issue. An issue he had to deal with at once.

As the boys grumbled and moaned on their way to the infirmary, as if they were the Athenians sent to march to Marathon in 490 BC, he made his way to the kitchen, looking for a certain cook.

“Hello, Mary,” he greets. She sits at her desk with a cigarette between two fingers, writing something down in her notebook.

“Mr. Hunham. I heard you got stuck with babysitting duty this year. How’d you manage that?” Her tone tiptoes on the edge of teasing.

“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I failed someone who richly deserved it.”

“The Osgood kid? Yeah, he was a real asshole. Rich and dumb. Popular combination around here.”

“It’s a plague. Uh, and you? You’ll be here, too?” God, he hopes she is. He doesn’t think he will be able to survive as the only adult on the school grounds.

To his relief she nods her head, “All by my lonesome. My little sister Peggy and her husband invited me to go visit them in Roxbury, but I feel like it’s too soon. Like Curtis will think that I’m abandoning him, you know. This is the last place my baby and I were together, not including the bus station.”

Paul pursues his lips, unsure of what to say. “Well, maybe you won't be completely alone. How would you feel about letting a female student sleep in the staff common room? We could push some couches together, I'm sure. Make a nice bed that way.”

“Female student? What do you mean?”

“I’m unsure about the exact details, but I have been entrusted by the idiots across the lake with taking care of one of their students.”

“Ahh,” Mary is beginning to understand.

He nods, “Her name is Y/n L/n, I think she and Tully are in cahoots somehow. You should've seen the way he looked at her.”

“Oh no, don't do that though. You can’t have that poor girl sleep on a lumpy couch all break. She needs a bed.”

“I just want this whole ordeal to go smoothly. If I can keep those two as far away as possible, I believe all will be well.”

“Please that Tully boy wouldn't try anything. Sometimes he is the only one to say thank you when we place the food down on the lunch tables.”

Paul mulls it over for a second. “I suppose I could give it a try. Not that I think it is wise.”

Mary smiles slightly, “I know those kids are hard to handle but hold out hope for them. Some trust too. It's not too late yet. Their brains are still moldable or whatever corny crap you teachers say.”

Paul smiles slightly, his attention pulled to the bottle of bourbon on her desk, “You mind if I uh…”

“You want some of that? All right.”

“Thank you.”

“You know this is a necessity,” Mary says as she pours the liquid into a mug for him.

“Oh yes,” for life, love, pain or the next two weeks. Paul understands too well.

…

“Put the bed farther away Angus,” you say, your arms on your hips and you watch him struggle to drag his bed closer to yours.

“Why? Do I smell or something?”

“It's already a stretch to think he might let us sleep in the same room, he's definitely not going to let your bed be that close to mine.”

Huffing he begins to scoot it back to its original place, “Fine.”

Music has started blaring loudly from where Teddy and Jason are bunking in. Park and Ollerman are minding their business in their own space. You are across, what you think will be the place Mr. Hunham will stay in. Your hope is that him having an accessible view will make him more lenient towards you and Angus, despite his earlier warning of having you be on your own.

You situate your lavender near the window and begin to unpack your things. Angus does the same and you can hear his rustling get faster.

“What's wrong?” You ask.

“My…” He trails off. Suddenly he storms off like a man on a mission. You ignore the magazine you were flipping through and let it fall on the floor as you get up to follow him.

You see him head directly towards Kountze. “Where’s my photo?”

“What photo?”

“I think you know what photo, and you stole it.”

“I resent that baseless accusation.”

“Give me my goddamn picture!” Angus shouts.

“Hey man, if you took the photo just give it back,” you plead exasperatedly to Teddy, already tired of his whole innocent act.

“Stay out of it Y/n, it's alright,” Angus assures you and you move back to lean against the doorway. You sort of hope Angus socks him.

Kountze leaps to his feet and stalks towards him, “You need your girlfriend to defend you now? Seriously, what's your problem, Tully? Homesick? Maybe the little boy misses his mommy?”

“Fuck you, Kountze. Leave her out of it. And hey, why are you even here anyway? Where’s your family?”

“We’re renovating our house. It’s all torn up. They’re storing the tools and stuff in my room.” “That’s what they told you? It’s winter, idiot. Nobody renovates their house in the winter. Your parents don’t want you around because you’re a fucking insecure sociopath.”

“Hey, take it easy, guys.”

You can see Angus getting angrier. His shoulders are tense and in a last ditch effort you go up to him and whisper in his ear, “Punch him later. In private. Hunham won’t even hear our reasoning for rooming together. He’ll punish you by punishing me.”

Misery loves company, right? That was the saying at least. In your mind, suffering with Angus was better than the alternative. You didn’t want to spend these two weeks inside a glass case. From what you had seen, Hunham would have no problem in making you sit at your own lunch table or study in a separate classroom. You know that is what Ms. Orchard would have done if she was forced to take in the boys. She would have locked you in your dorm and insisted it was because you would “distract” them.

You can see the gears turning in Angus’s mind. He bites the inside of his cheek and finally nods before turning back to glare at Kountze. “You’re an asshole. I just needed you to know that.”

He turns around to retreat back to the room only to run straight into Mr. Hunhams chest. Angus leaps off and leans his back against the wall. Your own eyes widened, you hadn’t even heard the man's footsteps.

He surveys the room and notes all your disheveledness. Teddy's face looks flushed while Angus is still trying to control his heavy breathing. Everyone is completely silent and too scared to even make a move.

“What is going on here?”

“They weren’t fighting,” Alex squeaked. Mr. Hunham only seems to grow more suspicious. He shifted his sights to you and his eyebrow begins to raise, “They weren’t bothering you were they.”

“No. We were just talking,” you swallow the lump in your throat.

“What about?”

“Hmm?” You hum, straightening up.

“What were you all discussing mere seconds before I barged in on what, I am sure, was a highly intellectual conversation.”

“Shocking Blue,” you blurt out and Hunham turns his head as if asking for clarification. “The band that was on the radio.”

“Yeah, we love Shocking Blue,” Angus nods. The rest of the boys chime in, faking their agreement.

“They’re so good.”

“I listen to them all the time.”

Mr. Hunham continues to look unconvinced. Without a word he walks out, and you all collectively let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, you all stare at each other with giddiness. Like when you're a kid and get away with stealing a cookie from the cooling tray. You let yourself relax but shrivel back up upon the echo of Mr. Hunham's haunting voice, “Mr. Tully, Ms. L/n, in here. NOW.”

You frown, gazing up at Angus, “I think he found the room.”

…

After a stern talking to, Mr. Hunham begrudgingly agreed to let you and Angus sleep in the same room. He took a string of jingle bells that hung from a nearby Christmas decoration and tied it around Angus’s bedpost so that if he dared to move, he would hear it. You two were just fine with that.

Later you were escorted to the large dining hall. Mr. Hunham sat at the head of the table as the rest of you indulged in mindless chatter. You and Angus were on your third round of rock, paper, scissors, competing for nothing, when a lady came in to set down a platter of chicken, potatoes and asparagus.

“Lovely. Thank you, Mary.” the older man says.

You wait for the initial rush of grubby hands and pushing elbows to pass before you serve yourself, when you find that Angus already did it for you. He sets down the plate in front of you and then gets himself a serving of the green vegetable on his own dish.

“Didn’t we already have this for lunch?” Jason asks.

“And it was crappy then,” Teddy says through his eager chewing. You gag at the scene.

“Consider yourselves lucky. During the third Punic campaign, 149-146 B.C., the Romans laid siege to Carthage for three entire years. By the time it ended, the Carthaginians were reduced to eating sand and drinking their own urine. Hence the term punitive.”

The woman from earlier, that you now know is Mary, returns with some water. You give her a passing smile which she returns.

“Mary, maybe you’d, um, maybe you would care to join us,” Hunham stumbles through his words.

Kountze looks up from his food then glances at you with alarm. Like he can't fathom the idea of sitting with the cook.

You think Mary can sense his disdain when you notice her demeanor sour after a glimpse in his direction. “No, I’m all right. Thank you.” She escapes through the kitchen doors.

Teddy pipes up, “I mean, I know she’s sad about her son and everything, but still, she’s getting paid to do a job. And she should do it well, right?”

The chewing and scraping of silverware halts. You and Angus gauge each other's reaction, both of you completely shocked and slightly horrified. That boy for some reason just never knows when to shut up and continues, “But I guess no matter how bad a cook she is, now they can never fire her.”

“Will you shut up!” Mr. Hunham yells loud enough for you to flinch. He slams his fork and knife down. “You have no idea what that woman has… For most people, Mr. Kountze, life is like a henhouse ladder -- shitty and short. You were born lucky. Maybe someday you entitled little degenerates will appreciate that. If you don’t, I feel sorry for you, and we will not have done our jobs. Now eat!”

…

You're on your bed and catching up on some reading and soaking in the orange hue that the bedside lamp offers you. The boys are still getting ready for bed, and you were graciously offered the first shift in the showers. You’re waiting for your hair to dry when Angus walks in with his pajamas on, and a towel draped over his shoulders.

“You look very dapper,” You smirk.

“Thank you,” he plops down into his mattress. “You think Walleye is still mad?”

“Probably. I don’t blame him.”

“It made for a pretty awkward evening though.”

“Not one of the worst dinners I ever had. I’d rather endure another night like this than any dinner with my parents.”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, “Your parents... You never did tell me the reason why you’re here holding over.”

You shuffle around in your bed and bring your blanket up to your neck, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Come on, it's just me now. Tell me. I told you!”

“It's no big reason, just small ones. They didn’t specify. I didn’t want to go home. It's complicated.”

“Okay you just gave like four different excuses right there. What happened? Is it super embarrassing? Did they forget about you or something,” he laughs.

You wince at his words and pray that the world opens up and swallows you whole. Realization dawns on his face, “Oh shit. Did they?”

You nod solemnly and begin picking on the thread of the blanket, trying to make the threading come undone.

“How could they do that? The same assholes who always make a huge deal about RSVPs and invitations. Seriously?”

“It’s alright. I’ll live. I mean what would I have done if I was there? I’d be in my room and waiting for them to drag me out so they could introduce me to people. They’d act like doting parents, ditching me a second later to play blackjack with their friends.”

“I’m sorry. I wish you would have told me, we could’ve… I could have done something.”

You smile, “I didn’t tell you cause I know you. You would’ve cursed them out the minute you had hold of them. Anyways, maybe it was faith to get stranded at Barton.”

“Or bad luck,” he quips, “maybe the universe wants us to die of mundanity together.”

“Either or,” you grin. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let's go to bed.”

Angus nods and spreads his long limbs across the bed exaggeratingly before turning to face the wall. “Whatever you want. Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight,” you go to turn off the lamp, wondering if you're being paranoid in sensing something off in the way he says your name.

…

December 20, 1970

The last few days had been the same grueling routine. Mr. Hunham would wake you up with the banging of bedpans and you would groan and try to shove yourself deep into your pillows.

“All right, you fetid layabouts,” he would say, “It’s daylight in the swamp. Arise!”

In the quad you were all forced to run laps. You hadn’t anticipated doing exercise, so you were forced to wear some joggers from the lost and found. You had been able to convince him that walking would be better suited for you and your imaginary cramps. His face had completely paled, and he hadn’t even let you finish speaking when he said you walking would be just fine. Men and their immaturity, you think.

When Angus and the rest of the boys would pass by you, he would glare jokingly at you while you would stick your tongue out and wave him goodbye as he flew past you.

During study hall, you would read some more and ignore the ongoing feud between Kountze and Angus. In the span of the last few days, you must have read three entire books. There was a lot of downtime in between recreational time with Mr. Hunham and dinner.

Today you had all decided to walk along the river. You can hear the church bells in the distance signaling the fact that it is the afternoon. Angus is swinging around a branch while Teddy and Jason pass around a football. You steer clear of both. You walk in sync with Alex and Ye-Joon. You’ve taken a liking to them. They remind you of the little sibling you always wanted but never got.

“What about your car?” Angus suggests, “We could take it, go somewhere. Boston maybe.” Jason shakes his head, “Nah, we’d get in so much trouble. Face it. We’re stuck.”

“If we just had some way to get out of here. Just split,” Angus kicks a pile of snow.

“Well, you could put a chopper down right in the Quad.”

“A what?”

“A helicopter, dumb ass,” Teddy snaps, “His old man’s CEO of Pratt & Whitney.”

“Got his own bird,” Jason confirms, “Takes it from Stamford to the city every morning. Lands right in our backyard. Pilot’s name, Wild Bill.”

“Wild Bill?” Ye-Joon awes.

“Yeah. Flew up to Haystack with it. Took the presents and everything. Minus me,” he shrugs.

“Flying with presents, like Santa Claus,” Alex comments with glee.

“Yeah. Just like Santa Claus.”

Jason whistles and tilts his head for Teddy to “go long.” They play catch, getting farther from the group as they go.

“If I was back home right now back in Provo, it would be really warm inside, and my mom would be making baked apples, and the whole house would smell like cinnamon and brown sugar,” Alex reminisces. You smile sadly at the boy.

“That sounds so nice,” Ye-Joon agrees.

Kountze runs back suddenly and grabs one of Alex’s gloves and throws it into the river.

“What's wrong with you?” You intervene.

“Hey!” Alex says simultaneously.

“That’s what you get for ratting me out, little Mormon,” Teddy laughs, not an ounce of regret at what he just did. You tap Angus’s shoulder as you go trailing after the young boy, “I’m going to go help.”

“It’s gone! My glove’s gone!” Ollerman shouts. You continue searching for it through the clearing.

“Twisted fucker orphaned that glove on purpose. Left you with one so the loss would sting that much more,” Angus shouts back.

Ollerman looks to be on the verge of tears. He stares down at his hands and starts walking down a snowy ramp. He throws the other glove before you can do anything to stop it. He watches it disappear downstream as you make your own way down.

“Did your mother make you that?”

He nods. “It’s alright. I know where he keeps his wallet. We’ll steal it and buy a new one.”

You manage to bring out a muffled laugh from him. You consider it a win.

…

Angus wakes up in the middle of the night to see you knitting. He gets up from the bed to see your progress.

“Oh hello, grandma,” he scoffs. “When did you learn to do that?”

“Girl scouts before I quit. You guys had a bunch of yarn just rotting behind your auditorium stage. Did you know that?”

“No? Are you making that for the kid?”

“Yeah, I feel bad.”

“That looks like crap,” Angus chuckles as he messes around with the gloves fingers. You swat his hand away.

“I never said I earned the badge. Besides, it's the thought that counts.”

“I’m going to get a glass of water. You want some?”

“No thanks.”

Angus leaves the room, only to return a couple seconds later.

“Ye-Joon is crying,” he whispers. You furrow your eyebrows and get up to follow him. His cries become louder, and you turn the corner to see the poor boy shivering.

“Are you all right?” You ask.

“I had a nightmare,” You crouch down so you can hear him better.

“Don’t worry we get nightmares too. Right Angus?”

“Yeah, I’m always falling. Or drowning.”

“Also, I had an accident,” he weeps.

You motion for Angus to check. He doesn't have to look far.

“Yeah, you did. Shhh. Stop crying. If they hear you, they’ll crucify you. Which would be ironic, since you’re Buddhist.”

“I know it’s an excellent school, and my brothers went here. But I miss my family, and I have no friends,” he sobs full-on. You hush him gently.

“You have plenty of time to make friends. You’re like a freshman, right? I would start worrying when you're fifty and living vicariously through your kids.”

“Yeah man. You could have a thousand friends and not like any of them. What would be the point of having them then,” Angus adds.

“We’ll help you hide the sheets in the morning, all right?” You wipe his tears with a tissue from a Kleenex box nearby. “Find a dry spot and try to get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Park smiles consoled. Before going back to bed you ask him one last thing, “Hey do you like gloves?”

Ye-Joon gives you a quizzical look. …

December 22, 1970

Once again, you’re all studying in silence in a fancy room with portraits of dead white guys on the wall.

Mr. Hunham clears his throat loudly and Jason leans in to mutter in disgust, “Are you kidding me? It’s only eleven and he’s already lit. I can smell the whiskey on him.”

“Can you blame him? It’s freezing in here. It’s fucking Greenland in here,” Angus retorts.

From outside you hear the faint whirring of a machine. Not a car but something else. You all approach the window and spot the helicopter flying above the trees. It lands in the quad just like Jason had said it could. An older man steps out and he looks like one of the men you imagine roam Wall Street.

“He finally caved, the big softie!” Smith exclaims. He all but skips to the door and turns to you all, “Hey, any of you guys like to ski?”

You and Hunham stay behind as the rest go racing after him, filled with hope for what must be the first time in days. He goes to subdue the riot they make as they whoop down the hall, but you stop him by grabbing a hold of the end of his sleeve.

“Uh, sir? If Jason is inviting us, would you have to call our parents?”

“That would be proper protocol, yes.”

“Oh. Is there a way I could stay here then? I never cared for skiing and my parents would say no anyway.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I’d have to ask Woodrup about this first. Come on along,” he clears the path for you.

Grumbling, you find your way to the administrative offices. Hunham, Jason and his father shut themselves in a room. The boys along with Angus all try to listen in on the conversation by pressing their face as close as humanly possible against the glass. You watch from the sideline as Jason gives you guys a thumbs up. The hallway erupts in cheers and a minute later Mr. Hunham steps out with an announcement, “Gentlemen, good news. I was able to reach Dr. Woodrup and your parents. Most of them, anyway.”

Paul glances at Angus and you. Angus expression falters.

As the rest pack, you find refuge in your room. You can, however, hear Angus’s pleads.

“Try calling again. Just one more time. Please.”

“There’s no point. The desk clerk said no one’s answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

“Excursion,” he repeats.

Mr. Hunham scoffs, “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so. I could be spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”

“Maybe they’re back by now. Just call again.”

“Okay,” he gives in and marches down the corridor.

Ye-Joon had wished you goodbye a moment ago and now does the same for Angus, “Happy Holidays.”

“Same to you.”

“Take care, Tully.” Smith follows Park, giving him a pitiful pat on the arm.

You catch Alex as he is about to exit. You’ve wrapped the gloves you worked on endless last night in newspapers. “This is for you. Try not to get them stolen by Teddy again. I don’t think my fingers can handle another round of knitting.”

Ollerman smiles genuinely, giving you a hug you didn’t expect. You’re unable to return it as he has your stiff arms completely glued to your side. You follow him out, and Angus scowls in your direction.

“Why aren’t you more upset about this? That was our only way out and we blew it.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Did you really want to go skiing with Kountze that badly?”

“No, I wanted to get out of here badly. Your parents seriously didn’t answer either?”

“Um-.”

“Hey, you know what! Maybe Hunham can call them again and they can take us both in!”

“Angus no-,”

“Yeah, come on! Let's go ask,” he tugs at your hand to get you through the corridor.

“No Angus. I don’t want to.”

“What, why?”

You run your hand through your hair, “I asked Mr. Hunham not to ring them.”

“Wait. So, you didn’t even try to leave!”

“No! I thought I was clear the night we talked about why I didn’t want to go back to that house. If they answer they’ll pull the victim card and be all ‘I can’t believe you guys kept my child from me! Who do I sue?’ before coming to fetch me and berating me all the way back.”

“Listen, I wasn’t going to say anything because I could tell you were upset but you could have at least let them know for both our sakes. Then we could have spent the holidays in a hotel in Boston or something! We didn’t have to stay with them.”

“I knew you were off that night!” You curse the way you’ve managed to read him. “Anyways, with what money? To do what?”

“I don’t-, I don’t know… we could have figured it out.”

“I can’t believe you're getting mad at my decision.”

“It’s a pretty selfish one,” his eyes widened like he couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth.

You gasp and hit him harshly at his side. “Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re being an asshole right now. I’ve never been madder at you in my entire life.”

“Really? What about that time I spilled mashed potatoes all over your dress? Your face was beet red,” he mocks.

You go to swat at him again only for him to dodge you. You try once more and fail, almost falling onto the floor but stopping yourself by putting your hand on the nearest wall. If you weren’t so angry this would have reminded you of the times you would wrestle when you were eight. Especially now and the way he holds you back by putting his hand on your forehead to keep you at arm's length. You give up with a huff and you b-line to your room.

“Tell Mr. Hunham I won't be at dinner tonight!”

You hear him groan behind the door you slammed shut and then the sound of his footsteps fading. In your solitude you collapse on the bed, letting out a scream into your pillow. Even though it's muffled, you hope Angus can feel it from where he is. That it reaches him and causes goosebumps to arise all over his stupidly long arms. …

You had skipped out on dinner like you said you would. Although Mr. Hunham had been polite enough to bring a plate down to the infirmary. As he handed it to you, he said lowly, “I’m not sure what that little deviant did, but I’m sure it's related to his foul mood and your absence tonight. Let me know if I can do anything.”

You almost wanted to cry at his politeness. Later he invited you to the kitchen common room and claimed there was a TV there. Considering you had only stared at words on a page for the last few days, you jumped at the offer. You saw Mary there and to your displeasure Angus had been forced to tag along so that Mr. Hunham could supervise him.

Your eyes were glued to the television, not letting Angus’s burning stare get the best of you. They were watching “The Newlywed Game” and drinking from mugs. It was not half-bad. In fact, it was starting to get pretty good to see these couples have their relationship crushed within a thirty-minute runtime with ad breaks in between.

The boy had begun throwing pieces of balled up paper at you and you picked them off your hair and tried your damnedest to not pay him any mind. You could hear him tear a new page from that magazine of his and finally you snapped at him. “Will you stop it? You’re wasting paper.”

“Thank God. You’re talking to me,” he stood straighter in his seat. “Here's the thing, I'm sorry. I should have never said that you were selfish. Cause you’re like, not. You’re honestly the most unselfish person I know.”

“I don’t want your apology right now. I’m watching TV.”

“I just got caught up in the moment is all. The truth is that-.”

“Angus, I said I don’t want to hear it!” You raised your voice loud enough to catch the attention of both Mr. Hunham and Mary.

“Everything alright back there?” Hunham takes the pipe out of his mouth to ask.

You get up, brushing invisible dust off your skirt. “Can I be excused. I’m pretty tired.”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” You pick up your discarded book from the nearby coffee table before leaning down and whispering in Angus' ear, “Don't follow me.”

As you stomp away you hear Mary say, “We need to get those two onto this program. Win us a trip to Bermuda.”

Mr. Hunham lets out a suppressed chuckle, embracing it soon after along with Mary. You roll your eyes at the pair and their drunkenness. You’re comforted by the fact that they’ll have a big headache tomorrow. …

You’re shaken at a frantic rate. You went to sleep early but were awoken now by a mischievous looking Angus. He dangles a set of keys right in front of your face.

“What are you doing?” You squint under the harsh glare of the flashlight.

“Inviting you on a night of adventure. Walleye is completely blacked out. He won’t even notice us gone.”

“No thank you,” you turn away from him and drape your blanket over your head. He tugs it back down.

“Come on. Please?”

“I’m still not in the mood. Plus, now I’m tired.”

“Y/n,” he whines.

“If you find a cookie in a pantry somewhere you know what to do,” you murmur, already being lulled back to sleep by the warmth you feel under the covers.

“Y/n,” he says more seriously, “I am sorry.”

“I know,” you sigh. Maybe you had been too harsh. You prop yourself up on your elbows, “It’ll be better tomorrow. We will talk then.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He embraces you tightly in a hug. As he parts away, you two are face to face. You’re able to notice his eyes gleam under the light of the moon. You wonder when his eyes got to be that dark of a brown. Those same eyes flicker to your lips. You stare at him wearily as he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck. He walks backwards to leave, his back bumping into a nearby lamp. “Shit. Sorry. Uh, goodnight. Bye.”

You were probably disorientated. Sleep deprived most definitely. Or maybe that secondhand smoke finally got to you. Surely you were just seeing things. Because surely, your best friend hadn’t just looked at you the way songs and books always seemed to describe love.

a/n: Thanks again for reading! Just to clarify some things, obviously Y/n knows about Angus’s dad, but just like in the movie, he doesn’t let it show how much it affects him. That’s why Y/n is unaware of why Boston is such a big deal. Anyways bye :)) until next time. Let me know your thoughts.

#angus tully x reader #angus tully #the holdovers

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