#erin x riley | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year

Text

No More Hiding

Things get a little uncertain for Father Paul and you, after you are caught red handed by no one other than Beverly Keane.

Requested by anonymous

I'm back and I am healthy (almost). I got a bit out of practice, so this may be a little wonky, but I hope you'll forgive me :) Also, please check out this post, I am open to some nsft Father Paul content, teehee.

No More Hiding - 3.7K

tw: suggestive themes (mention), humanising Beverly Keane, cheesy as heck, a lot of triple dots

What is it with priests on Crockett Island? Beverly thought, gravel crunching underneath her feet as she walked away from Saint Patrick’s church hastily. Bev Keane was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them - she was aware there was some funny business going on with the young priest who arrived on Crockett almost a year ago and that writer lady, but she could never be entirely sure. Until today, that is. Bev felt a fresh wave of anger as she remembered the scene she witnessed no more than ten minutes ago.

—

How could she have forgotten her bag? Bev shook her head at herself. She went home after wrapping up the daily mass on Saturday, and when she tried to reach into her handbag to pull out the keys to her home, she froze. There was nothing hanging on her shoulder. How did she not notice? In her head she suddenly saw the image of her bag, sitting on a table in the back of the church, entirely forgotten. With a sigh and an eye roll, Bev turned around and began walking towards Saint Patrick’s again.

She entered through the back door, and immediately saw her canvas bag, exactly where she’d left it. After grabbing it, Beverly was just about to go home again, but then:

A giggle.

A soft, feminine giggle sounded from the main room of Saint Patrick’s. Curious as to what’s going on there, The teacher crept towards the door leading to the front and put her hand against the handle. Very, very slowly, she pushed it and pulled the door open, just a little. She peeked out. The sight before her shook her to the core and Bev felt fury immediately settling in.

Sitting in a pew closest to the altar was Father Paul, still in his green chasuble, and next to him was (F/N)(L/N). Which, Beverly supposed, would be fine, if the priest (the PRIEST for goodness sake!) wasn’t currently pushing his tongue into her mouth and her hands weren’t messing up his raven hair. The teacher was frozen to the spot as she watched the two people exchanging passionate kisses, sometimes producing soft pleasured hums. What finally snapped Bev out of her shock was the sight of Father Paul’s hand settling on (F/N)’s knee, before pushing her skirt up as it moved forward onto her thigh.

Beverly pushed the door open all the way and coughed loudly. With malicious satisfaction she watched the couple practically jump away from each other and turn their heads in her direction, their eyes widening in horror. “B-Bev?!” yelped the priest, his face turning red, as did the young woman’s. “T-this- this isn’t what it looks like!” his hand, which left the girl’s thigh was now outstretched towards Beverly in a surrendering manner. Despite the furious storm within her, the teacher felt strangely calm as she took calculated steps towards the couple.

“Father, if you insist on indulging yourself in breaking your holy vows, it’d be nice if you had at least enough respect not to do so in God’s house,” she said, her voice cold as ice, her expression stony. The priest coughed: “Bev I-...W-we were just-” “ Don’t! Don’t… ” the teacher hissed and began walking off through the front of the church,clutching her bag in a vice grip. She shut the door with a bang.

Father Paul watched Beverly leave and winced as the old wooden doors banged shut. You then saw him wilt before your eyes. He put his elbows on his knees and placed his face in his hands. Your own hand found his shoulder and began stroking it, trying to comfort him, despite knowing that not even your touch would be able to comfort him now. Still, the priest leaned into your hand and soon raised his head to hide his face in your neck instead. You slowly stroked the hair at the nape of his neck.

“We’re screwed,” said Paul against your skin, his voice soft and tired. “Yeah,” you whispered back.

—

Bev’s idea of going home was long forgotten as she stalked across Crockett Island, glaring daggers at everyone who dared as much as acknowledge her, the teacher was seething with rage. What was it with priests on Crockett Island? She knew the old Monsignor Pruitt hadn’t exactly been celibate either, and that the island’s doctor Sarah Gunning had been the result. She found out during one of Monsignor’s episodes, when he’d weep softly and call for Mildred, apologising for not having been there for her. For their daughter.

Back then, she acknowledged this, not knowing how she felt about it. On one hand, the Monsignor went against his vows, sired a child who was then raised by a different man, and obviously never stopped lusting for said man’s wife. On the other hand, what was there to be done now? The Monsignor was old and frail, dementia claiming his mind little by little, and Mildred Gunning? Well, she was in no better state. George Gunning was long gone and Sarah was a grown woman, who grew up in a happy family with a loving mother and father, blissfully oblivious she was the illegitimate child of their local priest.

However, it was different now. God, Bev wished she hadn’t forgotten her bag in the morning. Suspecting something fishy is going on is better than actually knowing it - makes it easier to ignore. But now she knew. She knew Father Paul, a priest who was supposed to be Crockett Island’s spiritual leader, image of morality and virtue, was fornicating with a heathen, a faithless woman, who like a succubus seduced the holy man to sin.

Bev was already forming a plan in her head, a plan to inform the dioceses about the blasphemy happening right there in God’s house, if not to outright get the priest excommunicated, to at least stop this illicit affair. But then she heard a sound behind her, a girl’s high-pitched laughter. She turned around.

What she saw made her stop. It was Leeza Scarborough, laughing and squealing as she drove circles around Warren Flynn on his own bicycle. The youngest Flynn was looking at her fondly, his gaze filled with pride: “I told you you could do it!” Oh… Leeza regained the feeling in her legs during one of Father Paul’s sermons. Since then, she came out of her shell so much, yet she still remained a good, devoted Christian, never missing a single daily mass. She was smiling and laughing more, but still she prayed harder than anyone else. She even found it in her heart to forgive Joe Collie, the man who crippled her in the first place! Beverly would never!

Speaking of Joe Collie, Bev only now realised she was standing a short distance away from the general store, where said man was currently chatting up their Muslim sheriff. After Leeza forgave the town drunk, he… he actually stopped drinking. He began attending the AA sessions Father Paul started, along with Riley Flynn, and while Bev was sure he was bound to relapse, to her utmost surprise he actually stayed sober since then. He looked a little different, his clothes were cleaner, his hair and beard neater. He even started working again, on one of the fishing boats. He looked like he dropped a few pounds too. The biggest change was his face. He too was smiling more.

Bev bit her lip, deep in thought, reminiscing of the past year. Since Father Paul came to the Island, there was a change in atmosphere. After Leeza’s recovery, it was like a religious renaissance had happened. The church was usually nearly full on Sundays and more people started attending daily mass as well, Bev had to start ordering more than double the usual amount of communion wine and hosts, and even had to get some low-gluten wafers after several inquiries. Some of the people who moved away after the spill actually came back to their old homes, because the fishermen began returning from the sea with full nets of fish and crabs, just like they used to many years ago. The community was blooming.

The teacher looked around. In the gazebo of Crockett Island’s little park sat Riley Flynn with Erin Greene and her daughter… Their daughter, essentially. The child wasn’t Riley’s, yet he treated her as his own, loved her as his own blood. He moved into the Greene home and Annie even mentioned once that Erin was in the middle of divorcing her ‘nasty work of a husband’ so she could marry Riley instead, so they could become a proper family once and for all. The little girl, whom Riley Flynn was currently bouncing on his knee, had two godparents, and since only one of them had to be a practising catholic, it was Ed Flynn and the other was nobody else than (F/N)(L/N).

(F/N) had also started to help out in the school, taking upon herself some of Erin’s classes so the woman could focus on her little girl. The children actually really liked her. Bev would often hear laughter from the other classroom and most of the kids left it with a smile on their faces. When she wasn’t helping Erin, she was usually helping someone else, assisting Sturge in some maintenance work, helping Annie with inventory in the general store, even joining the Flynn men for a few fishing trips! Bev saw her once at the docks, and had to admit the young woman looked quite the natural in her work clothes.

Her previously malevolent intentions turned into conflicting thoughts. Beverly had to sit down. In a much slower pace, she finally walked home. Bev’s home wasn’t exactly filled with many decorations or personal effects. There were a few photos here and there, of her parents and her, when she was a little girl. There was a photo with Monsignor Pruitt, where she was bracing him by the arm, smiling into the camera. The older priest had his hand gently placed against hers, a kind smile on his own face. Bev rather missed the old man.

Despite the fact that the Monsignor too succumbed to the temptation of flesh, he never stopped being a good priest. And a good man. He never once refused to offer a helping hand, he was always ready to be of support. He was a rock for Beverly when she lost her parents, much too early. She could rely on him when she was all alone, when she had nobody else. Maybe that’s what really drove her to church so much… Most things in her house were of religious theme, verses were framed on her walls, there were crucifixes placed throughout the entire home, Bev only had records of gospel music laid by the old record player which belonged to her mother.

Beverly sat down in her armchair, the room so quiet one could hear a pin drop. The truth was that Father Paul, despite his immoral indulgence in carnal desires, was still a good priest. He took care of his parish, took care of his flock. Always ready to help and provide support… just like the Monsignor.

And (F/N)? Beverly scoffed unhappily. As much as she wasn’t fond of the girl and the fact she seduced a holy man, she had to admit that (F/N) was… a part of Crockett Island now. She came when everyone else left, this was her home, and the people accepted her as their own. She was popular. Beverly was not, she was aware of that. She knew that most people only tolerated her because she played such a big part in the church, and because she taught their children. She didn’t have friends, or a family, but she had this. And that was good enough for her.

However, if she were to… if she were to report Father Paul Hill to the dioceses, if she managed to actually get him out of Crockett Island… She probably wouldn’t be tolerated anymore… No, Beverly would be hated . There was a big possibility the people would be more willing to accept an uncelibate priest whom they adored, rather than have this beloved priest taken away. And God knows who’d take his place then? If it came down to taking sides, Bev had no qualms that people would actually take hers and not Father Paul’s. She’d then drop lower than Joe Collie, who was slowly but surely gaining more sympathy ever since he became sober. She’d be the town pariah. Not Joe, not Riley, but Beverly .

She put her face into her hands. Was she going to actually ignore this? Was she really just going to let them continue committing sins? Then again… everyone sinned, didn’t they? To sin was human after all, and the heavenly father forgives all those who try to make amends. And Father Paul and (F/N)(L/N)... they made amends constantly by all the work they put into this small community… The teacher sighed deeply. She supposed she could try to just … ignore it. She didn’t agree with what they were doing, but she could ignore it, for the sake of everyone else… Speaking of everyone else, Beverly wondered who else knew of this little affair. Erin Greene? Possibly, her and (F/N) were joined at the hip. And if Erin knew, then Riley Flynn maybe knew as well. Who else?

It was decided then. Bev looked up and released another deep sigh. In a way, she felt… lighter? Calmer? What was with this feeling of acceptance? She should still be angry, she should be hating every moment she allows this to continue, but she just wasn’t. In a way, she was… content. It was better for Crockett Island if Father Paul stayed, and, well, Bev reluctantly supposed it was better if (F/N) stayed too. She didn’t even realise the corners of her lips were turning up slightly. Sighing for the last time, she got up from her chair and walked to the record player. Maybe there were still some of her mother's old records somewhere, Bev thought, maybe she could use some non-gospel music for a little change.

—

Any day now, you and Paul expected some nasty letter from the dioceses, or maybe a surprise visit from the bishop. Or a phone call, inquiring whether it was true that the priest was in a forbidden affair with a woman.. But nothing happened. You haven’t really discussed what would happen to your relationship, because the thought was too terrifying, but you became so much more careful about it. You didn’t dare to touch one another unless you were in the rectory or your house, doors locked and curtains closed. You wouldn’t hold each other’s hand during walks, you didn’t feel safe expressing any physical affection even in front of the friends who knew of your relationship.

It sucked, not being able to snuggle up to the priest when you were outside in the woods, definitely alone, but unwilling to take any risks. You missed his warmth, the smell of him when he held you close, you missed the stolen kisses. You wouldn't even go to the Uppards, even though you’d never be caught there, especially by Beverly. It sucked.

On the other hand, you learned how to show affection in public through other ways. Like a deep look into each other’s eyes and a single slow blink - like a quick peck on the lips. A smile and head slightly cocked to the side - an ‘I love you’. It wasn’t the real thing, but it was lovely nonetheless. A week passed, then two and… nothing. No letters, no phone calls, no visits. In fact, it was very quiet. The priest served his homilies as usual, Bev helped him as she always did. She talked to him and treated him the same as ever, as if she never caught the two of you, as if it had all been a bad dream.

Yet, the two of you remained cautious, always checking over your shoulder. By the third week, you were going mad. As you lay in your bed, mind for once calm and quiet after a tender lovemaking, with Paul drawing little patterns on your bare back with his fingertips, you suddenly spoke: “We should talk to her.” “Hm?” asked Paul, and turned his head a little to look at you. “To Bev,” you clarified. Paul sighed and closed his arms around you. “Why?” he asked finally. You adjusted yourself in his hold and rested your chin on his collarbone to look into his eyes: “Well, it’s been a while. If she told someone, the dioceses… they would’ve been here by now, wouldn’t they? Or call, at least? She’d be smug about it, I think. But she’s, you know… normal. Well Bev-normal anyway.”

Paul nodded and closed his eyes. “Hm… That’s going to be very uncomfortable,” he said at last. You pulled yourself up to press a kiss against his perfect mouth, making him smile softly. “Yeah… but we’ll face it together.”

—

It was… very very awkward. You were sitting on the uncomfortable metal chairs in the recreation centre, you and Paul next to each other, Beverly Keane opposite of you. You were so nervous. The priest grabbed your hand, which was gripping your knee painfully, in silent support. Bev frowned for a bit, but didn’t say anything. You took a deep breath, it was now or never. “Miss Keane, we wanted to talk to you about what you saw in Saint Patrick’s some time ago. There’s no point in lying. What you saw was exactly what it looked like, Father Paul and I, we… we’re lovers. And have for a long time.” Paul nodded next to you and squeezed your hand tighter.

Beverly nodded as well: “I’ve gathered as much. Why are we here?” You swallowed in nervousness and took a breath to answer, but Paul beat you to it: “You are a very devout woman, Beverly. I am breaking my vows. Yet, you still… help me in church, you treat the two of us the same… You didn’t tell anyone?” Bev’s eyes were piercing, you felt quite tiny under her scrutinising gaze. Finally, she looked down at her hands which were neatly folded in her lap: “No, I didn’t… Not really for your sake, though. I don’t approve of this. I didn’t tell anyone because… Crockett Island relies on you, Father. And, to a certain amount, on you as well (F/N)(L/N). I will keep quiet about this… However, you must know that if I… caught you, someone else will too, eventually. So you may, at the very least, attempt to be… decent.”

You bit your lip. Bev was right, it was only a matter of time before the relationship would be found out. But then again, you didn’t think there were that many people left to find out. Over the months, you received more and more knowing looks, from both friends and acquaintances. One time a woman named Betty, who ran the island’s teeny-tiny beauty salon and attended Sunday masses pulled you aside to tell you what a lucky woman you were, having a good looking man like that. In fact, the only person you were seriously hiding your love from was currently promising she’ll keep her mouth shut about it. It was nearly surreal.

After some more awkward and uncomfortable talking, during which you revealed to Beverly that your relationship began after the Easter vigil (by which she was surprised, since she suspected something was going on much earlier), you parted ways in a rather civil manner. As you left the rec centre, Paul took your hand in his right away, leading you to the woods for a stroll. You smiled and leaned into him, thankful to feel his warmth again.

Over the following weeks, you settled back into your routine, except you were way more relaxed. Someone saw you holding hands, or sharing an embrace and a kiss from time to time, but they never once commented on it. Well, most of the time. One time you pressed a kiss to Paul’s cheek when you thought you were alone, in front of the general store, just to hear a wolf-whistle behind you. “Knew it,” came Joe Collie’s voice, as he left the shop and walked away jovially, Pike following behind him with a wagging tail. “He didn’t know shit,” said sheriff Hassan, leaning against the doorframe, “I knew, though.” You stuck your tongue out at him, making Paul chuckle.

—

Hard to believe it had been a year already, you thought as you stood by the gazebo, a sooty cross drawn on your forehead. There were more people attending the Crock Pot Luck this year, as the town’s population grew slightly. You observed them fondly, feeling at peace. Feeling utterly home. One year ago exactly, you were sitting at one of the tables, sipping wine and chatting with Father Paul. Back then, you only ever allowed yourself to think of him in secret, today he lived in your mind rent-free and you were far from being mad about it.

Speaking of Father Paul, a pair of long arms wrapped themselves around your waist from behind and soft lips brushed against the back of your neck. You smiled and put your hands over his. He came around, keeping one arm around you and pulled you close for a real kiss. And what a kiss it was, sweet and passionate at the same time, and it filled your heart with utmost joy. When you pulled back, you noticed a number of people looking at the two of you. Some of them had a knowing expression and a smile on their faces, some were wide eyed, but said nothing. Others simply returned to minding their own business. Bev Keane was one of the latter. You smiled at your lover and he mirrored you.

“No more hiding, huh? You asked quietly. His smile grew: “No more hiding.” You stroked his smooth cheek. “The secrecy was kind of thrilling though,” you teased. The priest chuckled, “we can do a little bit of hiding, as a treat,” he promised. You giggled airily and pressed one more kiss to his lips before grabbing his hand and leading him to one of the tables.

No more hiding.

Hello again! Hope it wasn’t that horrible lol. You can check out this story and the entire series on AO3. Thank you for being patient with me <3

Tagged: @i-was-ok-then-i-saw-hamish

I will feed you a sugarcube and scratch your head for feedback ;-;

Also, please, if you're on insta, go and report account named 32181045, who hacked Hamish's account, got Hamish deleted and gloats about it in their stories.

#fanfiction #midnight mass #father paul #father paul hill #father paul x reader #father paul hill x reader #fluff #human!beverly keane #beverly keane #erin greene #riley flynn #sheriff hassan #joe collie #leeza scarborough #beverly keane has a heart #beverly keane is human #debitchization of beverly keane #humanization of beverly keane

198 notes · View notes

astriferias · 1 year

Text

dear @nontoxic-writes , i am so (almost) sorry,,,

#hangster #hangman x rooster #rooster x hangman #top gun maverick #top gun #hangman #rooster #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #erin greene #riley flynn #midnight mass

82 notes · View notes

the-moon-racoon · 2 years

Text

MIDNIGHT MASS ART DUMP

So, at least for now, I think I'm slowly getting into other things I want to make art for. However, this show has a place in my heart and I'll probably do more fanart in the future, whenever something triggers my passion back. Until then, I'll do other things.

Once again I'm very sorry for the people who followed me thinking I'd do regular, coherent content.

#my art #fanart #midnight mass #monsignor john pruitt #riley flynn #erin greene #riley x erin #sheriff hassan #ali #how do I even tag that dumb ass looking nosferatu fella?#whatever #gif #pixel art

57 notes · View notes

littleredwritingcat · 1 year

Text

Thirst Trap - Chapter 10: "Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting"

"Perfect love Y/N. Remember? There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.”

“This is a terrible decision,” you yell.

“I am a hot dumpster fire of terrible decisions! Why are you warming your hands on the hot dumpster fire of terrible decisions, Paul? I am not going to make out with a man of the cloth in the middle of a church!”

Ok, sinners and meow meow lovers. If you've made it this far, I congratulate you. Time to put the "burn" in "slow burn."

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead @honey-tree-evil-eve @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @plainlo-inthemorning @thenookienostradamus @fatherpaulsimp @fatherpaulmybelovedulsimpbackup @rothko-mirror @meownsignor @thecorgimademedoit @mareyshelley @vintageglassheart02 @thegentlestmaenad @jyngerpeach @ebiemidnightlibrarian @choosekindly @girlwiththenegantattoo @aherdofbees @i-was-ok-then-i-saw-hamish @midwestmisfit @madsmilfelsen

#thirst trap fic #midnight mass fandom #midnight mass fanfiction #father paul hill x reader #monsignor meow meow #monsignor john pruitt x reader #erin greene #riley flynn #hassan el shabbaz #18+ only #slaps hood of fic #“You can fit so much angst into this thing!”

29 notes · View notes

artistsonthelam · 2 years

Text

Paper Girls! // (my tweet & my Twitter)

50 notes · View notes

ghostedcas · 9 months

Note

hello! i read your family fic and absolutely loved it with all my heart<3333 i was wondering if you could write more about the riley family :33

maybe they’re celebrating someone in the family’s birthday! your pick on who it is :D

but i would love to see what you do with this<3333

you ask for birthday and i raise you:

soldier returning home for his children's birthday🥰

i hope you enjoy !! <3

simon "ghost" riley x mom!reader/children!ocs

word count: 1433

warnings: pure pure fluff, tears of joy, so so so so much crying from reader and the 17 year old son (bc men are allowed to be vulnerable too <3)

a/n: simon returing from a mission early for the twins' fourth birthday?? i think yes :) idk why but this is immediately what came to mind when i read this request. this fic takes place just before the riley family vacation to soap's beach house <3 in my mind it's like early july

a/n 2.0: also we officially have names for the riley kids. bug, matthew, lyla and luka <3

--------

"mandy it's not his fault he can't be here, he's literally in a another country fighting a war right now. i'm sure he's just as heartbroken about it as the rest of us." you sighed to your sister in law.

it was the twins' fourth birthday, you and your sister's wife mandy, were in the kitchen prepping the food for their birthday party in 20 minutes.

"i don't know, i just think he should've asked for the time off. he knows when his kids' birthdays are." the blonde said as she cut up some strawberries.

"he can't just request time off in his job. his job isn't like a 9-5 mandy."

you were starting to get frustrated with the conversation so you just decided to change the topic and turn the attention towards the stars of the day, the twins.

"anyhow, the twins are going to wake up from their nap any minute now so i'm gonna go upstairs and shower really quick before i lose the opportunity."

"alright, i'll start bringing the food and games outside."

"okay, bug and matthew should be out there setting up the tables and decorations so ask them for help if you need it. when is erin coming back again?"

"she said she'd be back just after the party started, she needs to go pick up the rest of lyla and luka's gifts."

"gifts? plural? mandy, you two already brought like four seperate bags of gifts! they're four they don't need this much." you replied with a laugh, disbelief overtaking you as mandy reveals her and your sister were absolutely spoiling your children.

"they deserve it! plus, i promise, you'll like this last part she's getting too. now go! go! get your shower."

"god, you two are insufferable." you mutter, mostly to yourself, with a slight laugh as you walk up the stairs to get to your room and take a quick shower.

almost immediately after you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself, the cries of one of the twins rang through the house, their cries triggering the cries from their twin. you let out a soft sigh and dried yourself off as quickly as possible and slipped on your bathrobe, making your way to the twins' room.

"awake from your nap my darlings?" you say softly as you enter their room and approach their separate cribs.

lifting luka from his crib first, you hold him out for a moment and then bring him close, pressed to your chest.

"happy birthday, my sweet pumpkin." you say softly, rocking the crying infant whose cries die down slowly now that he is in the arms of someone safe and loving.

you walk over to lyla's crib, adjusting luka in your arms to carry him in just one so you can reach in a hand to lyla to let her know you're there.

her cries begin to cease as she grabs at your hand.

"hi there baby, did you nap well angel? happy birthday~" you coo at her.

lyla nods as she grabs at your fingers.

"i'm gonna put your brother in here with you for a moment so i can go get your outfits." you tell her with a smile as you set luka in the crib with lyla.

you turn to their dresser and pick out their outfits for the party, you suppose you'll just have to get dressed in a few minutes.

it was a bit of a struggle to get the outfits on thr twins, both having woken from their naps with a lot of energy meanth they were wiggling around as you were trying to change them and that only prolonged the task.

eventually though, you were successful and placed the two down onto the floor and smiled at them. "goodness, look at how cute you two are... gotta take a picture for daddy, yeah? look at mummy, smile!"

you take your phone out from the pocket if your bathrobe and snap a picture of lyla and luka, adorable smiles on their faces.

a small twinge of sadness pokes at you as you take the picture, sad that simon will only get to see them on their birthday through a picture. celebrating his babies' birthday alone on base.

nonetheless you shake off your negative thoughts and pocket your phone once more, picking the twins up and carrying them both back to your room so you could keep an eye on them as you tried your best to get ready in time for the party

you were now 40 minutes into the party, games being played, the bunch of kids in your backyard ran around and laughed happily. you scanned the area, taking note of where all your own children are.

bug was playing in the dirt with lyla, probably looking for critters, something they bonded over frequently.

matthew was playing tag with luka and some of the other little kids, letting them tag him as they played.

"erin should be back in about five or so minutes." mandy says from behind you, causing you to jump a little at the suddenness.

"jeez! oh, okay.." you reply, putting a hand over your heart to calm yourself as you laughed a little from nerves.

"we should probably start opening presents, yeah?" mandy suggests, motioning to the overflowing presents table.

you couldn't say you didn't spoil your kids, that's for sure.

"yeah, you're right." you nod and begin to call out to the guests and your family.

"guys! it's time for presents and cake!"

"present!" you hear luka scream excitedly, beginning to try and run over to you.

you laugh at his cuteness and sit down, letting everyone gather around, situating the twins on your lap while they open their presents.

you were almost to the end of all the presents when you heard the patio door slid open and closed, erin walking through with a few bags in her hands.

"so sorry i'm late! but i have lots of presents!" she calls, waking over to you and the twins as she holds up the bags.

"here, here, take them." she says, pushing them all onto the table.

"thanks erin, you really didn't have to get this much." you reply with a laugh, letting both of the twins reach out to try and grab the bags, you make sure they grab their own bags, watching as they opened them excitedly.

"okay, erin and i have one more present, but it's for all five of you. gimme just a minute, i'll be right back with it, it's a big gift." mandy says as the twins finish opening their presents.

this makes you look at erin and mandy, a confused and almost worried look on your face. you knew your sister and her wife pretty well and there's so many ways this could go.

mandy runs into the house as everyone at the party waits in anticipation for whatever the hell mandy could've brought.

when mandy returns, her gift is the very last thing you expect.

simon walks through the back door with her, a smile on his unmasked face.

"daddy!" lyla squeals loudly, wiggling from your lap to run over to simon, hugging his leg as she cried from her overwhelming happiness.

"dad?!" you hear matthew and bug yell in shock, both of their voices cracking.

matthew full on runs into simon's arms, hugging his father as tight as he possible could as he also cried, overwhelmed by shock and happiness. he sobbed hard into simon's shoulder as simon chuckled and rubbed his back. "missed you too bud."

"oh my god.. simon?" you say softly, getting up from your seat as you keep luka in your shaking arms.

"c'mere, love." simon responds, motioning in a come hither motion to you.

like you were on autopilot, your feet carried you and luka over to simon, joining in on the family hug. bug was the last to join, wrapping their arms tightly around simon from behind.

"i missed you all so much..." simon says softly, quiet enough for just your sweet little family to hear.

"we missed you too dad." matthew says between sniffles, his emotions still getting the best of him.

"and happy birthday to my two little rascals, you're... three now right?" simon says, teasing the twins.

"no! daddy silly! we dis many." lyla says with a giggle, holding up four fingers in her father's face.

"ah yes, my mistake princess." he chuckles and gives her little head a kiss.

this was definitely the best birthday party you could've ever had for the twins.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x oc #ghostedcas #casper's 💌#casper writes #ghostedcas: bug riley #ghostedcas: lyla riley #ghostedcas: luka riley #ghostedcas: matthew riley #ghostedcas: riley family ocs

198 notes · View notes

sorchathered · 1 month

Text

Heard it through the grapevine

A/N- SNB Chapter 8 is coming on Wednesday, but to tie you all over here is a one shot of what’s been going on with Bradley in the aftermath of Mirage’s pregnancy announcement. Thank you guys for sticking with me on this journey!

Pairing- Bradley Bradshaw x OC (Mirage/Erin Riley)

Warnings- language, drinking, Bradshit being an idiot

Summary- Bradley is hungover as hell the morning after Mav’s wedding, what the did he get himself into overnight?

————————————————————————-

Bradley had fucked his social life up to the highest degree in the past 6 months but even he had to admit this shit took the cake.

He’d gotten completely trashed last night, after months of trying to get sober, because his biggest insecurity played out right before his eyes. He’d be an idiot to deny he’d never been worried about Jake getting in the middle of his relationship over the past few years, the man had an ego the size of his home state and he wasn’t bad to look at either. But you had always insisted it was platonic, never given him a single reason to doubt you, yet it somehow never stopped the jealousy that bloomed in him when he saw the two of you together. It was stupid really, he’d been the one to cheat on you in the end and burn everything he’d thought he wanted to the ground, but watching your former fiancée make out with the guy he’d always worried about and then get whisked away to no doubt fuck each others brains out stung a little. So he did what he knew best, drown himself in bourbon and promptly pass out at home, or at least that’s what he thought had happened.

He woke up the next morning feeling worse than he had after that rager in his frat house right before graduation, every step had him convinced he was going to throw up everywhere but his tiny french bulldog was a force of nature and she was insistent that they go outside. He was half dressed in his suit from the night before, no idea where his phone could be but that was a worry for future Bradley, right now he needed aspirin and coffee. Still trying to piece together what had happened in the aftermath, it looked as though he’d made quick work of destroying the leftover pizza and most of the lasagna he’d made earlier in the week, clearly couldn’t be bothered to close the fridge as the damn thing was wide open when he entered the room. The last of his expensive bourbon was gone, and it looked like he was out of beer as well. What a mess. As he set about to clean things up he heard his doorbell go off, then someone beating on his front door, what the hell could possibly be this important on a Sunday morning? He grumbled all the way to the entryway, flinging it open to find his best friend Natasha Trace looking even more pissed off than normal, clearly he’d fucked something up judging by the rage on her features.

“I’ve been calling you for HOURS! What did you do just fall off the face of the damn planet?!” She said as she elbowed her way into his living room, he didn’t have the energy for this he was sure but there was no point in stopping her now.

“I was asleep, and honestly I don’t know where the hell my phone went, I’m hungover as fuck right now Nat so can we just skip to the part where you tell me what I did wrong and yell at me?”

She rounded on him and he staggered back, a little nervous until he saw the look of pity across her face. “Bradley we need to find your phone, but first I need to show you something.”

He was going to pass out, he was sure of it. As she scrolled through her instagram to the profile of the girl he definitely shouldn’t still be sleeping with he was almost hopeful that she’d decided to move on from him and posted a new boyfriend, but he knew he couldn’t be that lucky and after all she had just been at his house earlier in the week, if she was seeing someone else she would’ve told him. Right?

What he most certainly didn’t expect was to come across a set of photos, pictures the two of them had taken and never posted because it didn’t seem right, and at the end a picture of a onesie and a positive pregnancy test. Oh he was definitely going to be sick.

Nat had shoved him into the bathroom to shower while she made a pot of coffee and Bradley was frozen in place as he watched the bathroom steam up. How the hell had he let this happen? Why wouldn’t she have said something to him before posting about it? He picked up his phone and looked at the photos again, he did like Mirage despite the circumstances that had started their entanglement, she was funny and very pretty, impulsive yes but he wouldn’t have thought she’d do this to him. He opened his texts to message her, they needed to sit down and discuss this in person, but as he opened them he realized just how drunk he’d been last night. There in the messages were all the answers he wanted, she had in fact told him first and he had told her to go for it about posting the announcement. He was such an idiot, how did he let himself get this way? He needed to piece together the rest of his night and fast, so he shot her a quick message to come over and jumped in the shower. He didn’t know how to fix this, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it this time.

Nat was furious with him, she’d found out through Stormy about everything leading up to their breakup and now finding out that he’d somehow green lit this pregnancy announcement while black out drunk had her fuming. “Do I need to pack you up and send you to a rehab facility Rooster?! What the hell has been going through your head lately?” She was shaking her head between death glares, in his entire navy career he’d always had Nat, since they met in training as young kids, and she’d never been angrier than she was right now. “I know Nat, I know I fucked it all up, but I can’t change it now. All I can do is sit down with Mirage and see how to go forward with this, I-I’m going to be a dad…Holy shit how the hell am I supposed to do this? What if I fuck this kid up? What if I-“ she puts her hand up to silence him, he’s spiraling now and that’s not going to help anyone.

“We are going to work this out ok? Just take a breath, we also need to find you a better therapist because this guy is obviously not teaching you anything beneficial.” She wasn’t wrong, the guy clearly just phoned it in and received his paycheck, Bradley had been going through the motions but not making any real progress. It was times like these he longed to have his parents around, maybe then everything wouldn’t have gotten so out of control.

Within the hour Mirage was at his door, Bradley let her in with a small smile and gestured for her to sit down, but when she saw Natasha she wavered; looking back at Bradley like a deer in headlights. “Relax Erin, I’m not here to whack you, I’m just moral support.” She says with an eye roll, and the girl, albeit irritated, finds a seat on the couch. “So I take it from your texts you drank a little too much last night, I had a feeling you’d be upset after the wedding but I didn’t think you’d forget our conversation entirely” she was frustrated, he knew she would be, especially considering how important that conversation was. “Look, Erin I know I keep fucking it up. I’m a mess, I never should have dragged you into it in the first place but here we are. I’m going to try at this, and you give me all the hell you need to because I really do want to make this work. If you want us to be a real family we can work at it, or if you just want me to co-parent I’ll respect your choices, but no matter what got us here I’m not going to keep letting you down.” He knew he didn’t have a right to promise anything, and he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t make a mistake again, but he knew what life was like without a dad, and he couldn’t let that happen to his child. His child. He was going to be a father.

——————————————————————

Before he knew it 6 months had passed, He and Erin had been going to couples therapy on top of seeing a new therapist for himself and Bradley could say with confidence he’d been sober for all of it. He wasn’t going to the bar like he used to, instead choosing to come home in the evenings to binge tv and cook dinner with his girlfriend. They had found out just last week that they were having a little boy, Nicholas Bradshaw jr. and truly Bradley couldn’t believe how well things had been going.

He’d been transferred to the Golden Warriors, still working out of North Island but no longer actively working with the Daggers, and while initially it had hurt he knew it had been for the best. His relationship with Jake had boiled over into his work life and he agreed that it was best that they work apart. Life was going well, which usually meant the other shoe was about to drop but he was feeling pretty confident. Until one fateful evening when he received a call after work from a distraught Maverick, Stormy’s plane had gone down over the Atlantic and she was in critical condition. Jake and Admiral Simpson were heading to Walter Reed in Maryland to meet her and they didn’t know when or if she’d wake up. He didn’t know what he could possibly do to help, and without realizing he had already dialed the number of his old wingman. No answer, which he expected but he left a voicemail of support nonetheless. Whatever happened now all he could do was pray that the kindest girl he’d ever met would be ok.

————————————————————————

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @bobgasm @attapullman @roosterforme @floydsglasses @shanimallina87 @jessicab1991 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @djs8891 @mrsevans90 @pinkdaisies9285 @nouis-bum @86laura11 @angelbabyyy99 @dizzybee03 @mygyn @jostan456 @dempy @its-the-pilot @kmc1989

#sacred new beginnings #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun rooster #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #jake seresin

49 notes · View notes

intomusings · 2 years

Text

﹒﹒ unisex names masterlist !

back again with another masterlist for u all after receiving some anon suggestions . here's 250+ unisex first names for ur next character , these come from various influence points but some of them really are just pulled from thin air . the names are sorted by first letter but not alphabetically within each letter ! if u found this useful , feel free to like or reblog to boost this .

A : ashtyn , avery , adrian , anderson , abbott , aaren , aki , alix , amari , aden , arden , addison , angel , arizona , armani , ayla , austen , avani , august , ajay .

B : bailey , beck , bellamy , blaine , blake , brooks , bryce , bodhi , beverly , boston , boyd , benz , banks .

C : cameron , camden , carter , casey , charlie , chicago , carson , courtney .

D : dakota , dallas , delaney , denver , dylan , drew , dua .

E : eden , eli , elliot , emerson , emery , erin , evan , everest , ezra .

F : fallon , finley , finn , forest , foster , finnick , frankie .

G : gem , gabe , gray , genesis , garnet , greer .

H : hale , harley , harlow , harper , haven , hayden , hayes , hunter , hero , holland , hollis , hudson , honey .

I : indy , indiana , isa .

J : jace , jack , jade , jamie , jay , joey , jordan , jude , juniper , julian , jagger , journey .

K : kali , keegan , kelan , kendal , kenzie , kieran , kit , knox , kyle , kaiden , karsyn , kourtney .

L : lake , laurence , lennon , lennox , landry , levi , logan , london , luca , lux , lyric , love , link , lincoln .

M : maddox , madison , manning , manny , marlow , marley , mason , max , morgan , montana , milo , michi , memphis , milan , mica .

N : nevada , nicky , noah , nye , nova , nash , nyjah .

O : ollie , ozzy , orion , onyx , oakley , owen , oliver , ocean , opal , otto , orlando , odelia .

P : paris , pratt , parker , pascal , pax , paxton , paxon , penn , peyton , phoenix , presley , psalm , pearl .

Q : quincy , quinn , quentin .

R : rae , ryan , reagan , reed , reece , rei , rem , riley , river , robin , rocky , rory , royal , rowan , ryder , ryker , reign , rue .

S : sean , sacha , sailor , salem , sam , sawyer , scout , shiloh , skye , skyler , sloane , sol , spencer , stevie , sutton , sydney , storm , sab , seven , saint , sage , shelby , silver .

T : tai , teagan , torrence , tyler , tristan , trevor , tove , toni , tommy , theo , terry , tatum , tanner , tate , tayler , taryn , tris .

U : uma .

V : val , vesper , vega , vaughn , vince , venus , vinny .

W : waverly , wade , whitney , winnie , willy , wylie , wren , wyatt , winter , winslow , wolfe , west , weston .

X : xio , xyla , xashary .

Y : yael , yves , yara , yensi , yale .

Z : zane , zuri , zoe , zion , zayden , zero .

#m:masterlist #unisex name masterlist #name masterlist #rpc #rph #rpt

816 notes · View notes

couragehopelovefaith · 26 days

Text

My favorite ships

Destiel

Stelena

Captain Swan

Frozen Swan

Red Beauty

Curious Archer

Eriel

Clizzy

Malec

Merthur

Morgwen

Klayley

Bonenzo

Sparrabeth

Sterek

Malira

Marrish

Thiam

Damie

Erin and Riley

Owen and Hannah

Sparia

Spoby

Rosalie and Emmett

Japril

Vanderbaizen

Snufmin

26 notes · View notes

tojisun · 2 months

Text

dbf!simon x fem reader; dbf!simon x ofc

!! suggestive - minors dni; simon's a dick; is it cheating if you two are on-and-off

: draft :'D - i didnt want to post it as part of the dbf!simon series because it felt too juvenile and not in-line with the series (as i tend to avoid writing simon's pov to further shroud doubt to how he feels for the reader) but i miss writing so i tweaked this a bit

it is laughable, really, how you never seemed to have good people in your corner. how, at every turn, you keep getting betrayed. left broken and weeping, your heart full of festering wounds.

simon's guilty of it, of course.

he is no saint. he knows the shit he does hurts you but he has always known the bed he's made in hell and was more than ready to lay in it. to submerge himself in the fire because there is just something so addicting in the way he seeks for you, all mangled soul and yearning—ugly in the way he bears the burden of his affections to you—only to be accepted with nothing but a wet sniffle and a, "you hurt me." and simon hears it for what it is—his absolvement.

in return, simon whispers his apologies, all half-meant because he can't change. not when he loves the way you love him.

but this.

oh but this is just too cruel, it makes him twitch with a crude sense of delight.

"she doesn't deserve you," she mumbles, eyes glassy with tears. she introduced herself, said her name's kara. said she's your friend.

("see?" he would tell you much later, his palms warm as they clung to your waist. "she didn't mean a thing to me, baby."

"o-okay," you would reply, choking on your tears. "m'sorry for doubtin'."

simon would bite a grin and pepper kisses all over the column of your neck and up to the cut of your jaw, feather-light as they danced just past your lips.

"s'okay," he would whisper. "i knew you didn't mean to."

you would bury your face on the juncture of his neck with a wet sniffle, and simon would suppress a tremble because this.

this was exactly how he likes you.)

"oh yeah?" simon asks, snorting to himself. "and what? you reckon you're a better option?"

she flushes, cheeks filling with heat and eyes darkening as she frowns. simon expected her to storm off, taking his dismissal for what it is and running away to pretend to be your comfort place again.

instead, she seems to make herself more resolute, fists tightening on her skirt before meeting his eyes head-on.

"yes," kara says, all faux confidence. "i am."

simon hums, swirling his glass of gin as he looks away. "why's that?"

"because i know how to love you."

simon pauses, eyes shifting back to her.

kara says love in a way he knows isn't all that softness you have always associated with it—ghosting kisses and whispered confessions—or similar to the weight erin has always cloaked the word in—something that was beyond dinner parties and bike rides. kara says love and simon sees what she wants.

she wants the passion. the danger. she wants to submerge herself in the taboo love that she must have heard from you—the rough sex, the fast burn, the way he engulfs you whole until you are left twitching on the bed, gaze faraway and oversensitive as you come down from your high, before dealing with a heartache as he leaves.

it was a dance with you. it was something he tried to curb with erin only to realize, half-way, he wanted the thrill that you gave him.

with kara, simon knows it's all a front.

he flits his eyes down at her, licking the back of his teeth as he takes her in because kara is beautiful, alright. not really his type but he sees the appeal.

(she isn't anything like you and, somehow, that makes it easier for simon to indulge.)

he takes her to a hotel. he fucks her against the wall on the entryway of the room, and leaves after he came across her back.

simon fishes for his phone and rings you.

"si?" your voice is a sleepy croak on the other side. it makes his heart clench with desire.

"i wanna see you, sweetheart."

a static. sheets rustling. then, "okay." a yawn. "i can't wait."

what a sweet thing you are. this is why he can't really give you up.

#suns #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #dbf!simon #erin (dbf!simon)

207 notes · View notes

aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

Text

Less than Holy

I finally went and did it. After more than two years I went and wrote a fanfiction. This is basically a Fix-It - Everyone lives/nobody dies, not even Pike the dog or Erin’s baby. There are also no vampi- I mean angels and Monsignor Pruitt is actually in a hospital on the mainland and not father Paul Hill at all.

Less than Holy - 7.6K

Of all the people you would expect to fall for, the priest was the absolute last one of them.

You were a promising young writer, already having published a few books, the last one being a bestseller in the US. And while your name could be seen in many bookshops around English speaking countries and some foreign ones, your face was a mystery to the public. Which suited you, really. Your favorite genre to write was supernatural horror. Ever since you were a little girl, there was just something thrilling about darkness and what may lurk within. You grew up passionately reading up on Ed and Lorraine Warren's supernatural cases, fell asleep to the classic stories by Mary Shelley and Sheridan Le Fanu, and watched the newest flicks in cinemas with bated breath and a content feeling.

That's how you ended up on Crockett Island. Originally, you were only staying there in order to write your latest book; it was a story about a small, lonely fishing town, just like this one. Strange, horrifying monsters from deep waters would start targeting poor unsuspecting people from the island, and pull them down from their boats and dinghies and into the water below. The only people who could stop it were a couple of teens. You were really trying to appeal to a younger audience too with this book. In order to better capture the atmosphere and characters in your story, you decided to find a place like the one in your book where you could stay while working on it - and there it was.

Crockett Island.

Tiny. Quiet. Only several dozen people lived there and everyone was special in their own way. At first, you were renting a small house. The people who used to live there had moved to the mainland some time prior; as did many others after the faithful spill some years ago. That's how you actually found out about Crockett. An ad in a local newspaper on the mainland later, and this really nice couple was offering you their house on Crockett for a very reasonable rent.

The first few months were strange. Some citizens of Crockett observed you with distrust and apprehension, others were way more curious and friendly. Annie Flynn was among the latter group. Not two days after your arrival were you sitting in the Flynn family home, sharing dinner with their family of three. Four, said Annie. Her oldest son was currently off island, she said. It would take you some more time to find out that he's currently serving a sentence for manslaughter while DUI. You weren't one to judge. God knows you too participated in some wild parties and made a lot of bad decisions. Not ones quite so serious, true, but that didn't matter to you. You've grown quite close to the Flynn family over time. Also to the Scarboroughs, the Gunnings and the new sheriff and his son.

Sheriff Hassan, just like you, was a newcomer to the island, and despite having come before you did, he seemed to have it even harder because of his religious beliefs. It took you no time at all to figure out that the folk on Crockett Island were quite religious and many of them attended the Sunday mass in the church of St. Patrick. Having not grown up in a religious household, everything you knew about religions was from what you've studied yourself, and while you didn't necessarily affiliate yourself with any of them, you did believe in some kind of higher power.

Annie Flynn once invited you to tag along for the Sunday mass and you had agreed. The parish priest, Monsignor John Pruitt, was an older gentleman. His years were visibly catching up to him, and it was rather visible even to the untrained eye. While he was obviously absolutely devoted to his faith and had great knowledge of the holy book, his mind seemed to be wandering elsewhere from time to time. Even so, you enjoyed listening to his sermon, and it was obvious that he was well beloved by his flock. Unfortunately, this is where you finally came face to face with one not so lovely citizen of Crockett Island.

Miss Beverly Keane. Just the look she gave you as she noticed you among the crowd in front of the church. "So, you must be the outsider, then," she began, a thin, tense smile on her lips, but not within her eyes, "Annie Flynn's told me about you, of course. However, pardon me, if I'm mistaken, but you've been here for a few weeks now haven't you? This is the first time I see you here." You didn't like her expression one bit. Smug and self-righteous, as if she caught you in a lie. You suddenly felt like you've done something bad, and she was about to mock you for it and threaten to tell your parents. A stupid thought, really, but she did make you feel this way. "I'm not exactly a catholic. I'm not exactly anything either," you admitted honestly. You had no reason to lie. "But I'm open minded and I did read the Bible. I wanted to hear the sermon and also figured that this church," you motioned with your left hand, "is kind of the centre point for the island, isn't it. Since I'll be staying for a while, I thought I could perhaps meet the folk around here." The look on her face told you she wanted to retort with something, but she only took on the previous tense smile and said the important thing is that you're here now.

And then Erin came.

Following old Mrs. Greene's (whom you didn't know very well) passing, her daughter Erin, who's been living off the island for years now, came to take care of her mother's funeral and ultimately decided to stay. You actually met her on the ferry as you were coming back from a trip on the mainland. You looked at her and she looked at you and you finally recognised you didn't recognise each other at all. And you started talking.

Since then, you stopped counting your days on the island. Your book was long since finished and published, yet you stayed. The family whose house you've been renting contacted you about possibly buying in from them, for a fair price. And you said yes. Your family offered to have the rest of your possessions delivered to Crockett. And you said yes. Erin asked you to come with her to every Sunday mass. And you said yes. For some reason, this small, sparsely populated town has started to feel like home. Things weren't perfect, but they were fine. Life was slow and quiet. The islanders warmed up to you, little by little, until you were one of their own. Their neighbour. And you found you could no longer imagine waking up and not smelling the crisp salty sea air. And life was fine.

---

"Sunday's tomorrow," said Erin off-handedly, folding some laundry on her dining table. You murmured in agreement, mostly just paying attention to the words you wrote on your laptop, and the mug of tea in your hand. It's become so normal. You and Erin would be at your or her place, talking, playing games, watching films, or just doing your own activities in each other's presence. "Monsignor Pruitt will be back," offered Erin again. You raised your eyes from the screen: "He made it back safe, then?" That made Erin pause. "Actually," she breathed in, "I don't know. Nobody's seen him yet, really. And, I mean, Bev's been putting welcome messages on the church side, and she gave him instructions and what not...Yeah, he'll be back."

You weren't quite so sure. The old man seemed rather confused when you first came. Months later, his health only worsened. You were in doubt that the trip to holy lands was the right call. While still not outright religious, you have grown fond of the monsignor, just as you have grown fond of everyone else, and you were rather worried about him the entire duration of his expedition.

The next day, you sat with Erin in your usual pew at Saint Patrick's. You saw her as she smiled at a boy whom you haven't seen before, sitting in a pew with Annie and Ed Flynn, but before you could ask her about him, the mass had begun. The churchgoers rose and opened their hymnals. You sang with them. Then, there was a strange moment. It seemed to you that some of the people's singing hitched, before returning to normal, while others stopped singing all together. You turned your head in curiosity and found yourself momentarily mute as well. Walking in a golden chasuble behind Warren Flynn and a boy named Ooker wasn't the old Monsignor Pruitt. Instead there was a total stranger. Tall and lean, with thick, wavy jet black hair, thick eyebrows, large dark eyes and, what you thought were, pretty lips. He too sang and his voice, rich and soulful, mesmerised you.

The stranger bowed down before the altar and took his stand behind it, facing his flock. You sat down. He introduced himself as Father Paul Hill and explained that Monsignor John Pruitt has fallen ill on his trip and won't be returning for the time being. He begins his sermon. You had quite enjoyed going to mass before, despite your near-atheism, and you liked the hymns and you liked hearing Monsignor Pruitt talk. But when Paul started talking, it felt like a fire had suddenly settled within your core. No, not a fire, a light. A gentle light emanating a pleasant warmth, definitely not a scorching, destructive fire. Monsignor Pruitt was devoted, and so was Father Paul, but Paul's young energy, and his passion for the word of god made Sunday mass seem like a performance, like an unreachable piece of art. You sat there, drinking in his every word and found yourself wanting to believe them. Wanting to believe him. Once everyone started getting up and lining up for communion, you sat behind, like you always did. Only this time, you weren't alone. The boy you saw earlier still sat in his pew as well. When everyone received their wafer and a sip of wine, they slowly started to stream out of the church. You were still so flabbergasted and amazed by Father Paul's sermon, you were actually one of the last ones to leave. From the church doors you saw Erin wink at you before she walked slowly away with the boy from earlier.

Before you could make your way home too however, a figure stepped in front of you. "You must be (F/N) (L/N). Monsignor Pruitt mentioned you do not take communion," said Father Paul warmly. You had to look up at him a bit, as he really was a tall man. There was a friendly smile on his face and his eyes were kind and inviting. So very unlike Bev Keane's upon your first interaction with her. You gazed into the priest's dark orbs and felt like you've known him your entire life, and like he knew you too. You felt instantly at ease, instantly trusting. "You see, I'm not a catholic. Not really. I'm not even baptised. It wouldn't be right." Father Paul smiles some more and nods in understanding. "Well, never too late to become one," you chuckle, "so I can believe you'll be honest with me and tell me what you, as a 'non-catholic' thought of my sermon?" The way he looks at you, keeping eye contact, with an air of confidence, but with no smugness or conceit, it makes you nearly instantly fond of him. You think for a moment, whether you should praise him for his skill, or play it cool and nonchalant. As always, you decided that honesty is key. "I was amazed," you said seriously, reciprocating his eye contact, "to be honest, I think many people genuinely believe in God thanks to their pastor. And you, um," you felt yourself blushing a bit and instinctively cast your eyes down, "I think you're very convincing." His smile faltered for the tiniest of moments and a strange look appeared in his eyes, before he grinned at you once more, and this time it was positively radiant, like a while of sunshine on a rainy day. "Convinced you, then?" he asks, his voice teasing, nearly mischievous. You couldn't keep yourself from smiling too, slightly coyly: "Oh, I don't know. I'll see next Sunday." You bid your farewell to Father Paul and went home. You'd deny it to anyone, but there was a bit of a pep in your step.

---

The Crock Pot Luck. Despite the town's small population, the spring festival was really something else.

It was Ash Wednesday and Erin made you get your blessing and a sooty cross from Father Paul. You stood before him, closer than before and with your neck craned up more. Standing so close, you admired just how handsome he is, all soft lines and smouldering eyes. The corners of his lips twitched when he saw you. "Remember, (F/N), you are dust, and to dust you shall return" he spoke softly as he dipped his thumb into a bowl in his other hand which contained the ashes. He then brought his right hand up and very gently drew a cross on your forehead: "Bless you, my child."

So now you were sitting with Erin at a bench, listening to the live music, chatting amicably and people-watching. Since Erin was pregnant, she was nursing a lemonade with a paper straw and you treated yourself to a glass of wine you traded for your drink ticket. It was sunny and very mild for the beginning of spring, and you already took your jacket off and were only sitting in a light jumper. Erin was looking to the side of you. You gazed in the same direction and saw Father Paul and Riley Flynn talking on a bench near the edge of the festival. Erin's told you all about Riley after the first mass with Father Paul and actually introduced you to him. He was a nice guy, obviously guilt-ridden with what he's done and a bit unwell. However, it seemed that spending time in Erin's company is doing him good. "You should talk to him," you offered to Erin. She lifted her eyebrows questioningly. "You were, like, childhood sweethearts, weren't you. I mean, I can't tell you what to do, but I'm just saying it's obvious he still fancies you." She snorted and shook her head at you. After a moment she sighed and got up: "Well, since neither of us is drinking, I think I'm gonna treat him to a coffee then." You just winked at her and remained sitting. A short while later, the brown haired girl had a cup of coffee in each hand and was on her way to Riley and Father Paul.

You meanwhile returned to people watching. You took in the kids playing bean bag toss nearby and the good Doctor Gunning talking quietly to a lovely woman you hadn't seen before. Some people were dancing in front of the podium. "Is this seat free?" sounded behind you. You didn't even need to turn around, having recognised the priest's voice immediately. Instead you just smiled into your empty glass: "But of course, father, be my guest." And so he did. You grinned at him and noticed he brought two glasses of wine with him. Upon your questioning look, he offered: "I thought it an appropriate apology, seeing as I have pulled you out of your thoughts." He slid one of the glasses your way. As your own wine had long since disappeared, you gracefully accepted. The next few minutes you spent in friendly, comfortable silence, looking around, enjoying the day.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Joe Collie. He was, put mildly, not exactly in favour of the townspeople. Erin's told you about the hunting accident that put poor Leeza Scarborough in a wheelchair most likely for the rest of her life. You personally only talked to Joe a few times. He was nearly always already drunk, or just woke up after a night of drinking. While irresponsible and a slave to his addiction, the man genuinely didn't seem to a have malicious or cruel bone in his body. He went everywhere with his pupper, Pike. Pike was a sweet dog, very large, but amazingly cuddly and friendly, you slipped some treats his way every once in a while. Now it seemed though that somebody else was intent on feeding the mutt. Beverly Keane laid down a hot dog in front of him and walked away rather swiftly. You grew anxious. If there was a person on this island who hated this dog, it was Bev Keane and while not happy about the thought, you had serious doubts that the hot dog was some sort of peace offering. Without a word you rose and half walked, half ran to Pike, snatching the food away before he could as much as lick it. Pike whined unhappily and barked at you, which made Joe Collie turn around to look. "Hey, hey! What the fuck gives?" he growled at you, undecided between defensive and aggressive. You looked at him, the hot dog in your hand just out of Pike's reach with Pike himself whining and looking at you pleadingly. "You should be more careful. Don't let your dog eat something he shouldn't," with that you turned around, tossed the hot dog into a rubbish bin and went back to your seat.

"What was that supposed to mean?" asked Father Paul once you sat down again. You took a sip of your wine and looked around anxiously. "It's just that-" you scratched your neck, "look, I could be very very wrong and I'm not accusing anyone of anything, but," deep breath, "I saw Bev give Pike a hot dog. And she hates Pike, she tried to get Sheriff Hassan to put him down, just for barking at her. And Erin saw her in school yesterday, in the supply cabinet, fiddling with an entire canistre of poison. I just, I'd rather be safe than sorry." You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment and noticed several people staring at you. There were Erin and Riley, their faces questioning and curious, Joe Collie (who has thankfully brought Pike close to him since then) looked confused and apprehensive, and last but not least; Bev Keane, who looked sour and right now probably wishing you ate that hot dog instead. Father Paul cleared his throat to get your attention: "Well, I'm sure it was nothing...But nevertheless, it's very Christian of you to look out for your neighbours like this." You gave him a small smile which he mirrored with his own, before he began speaking again: "Anyway, about Christianity-" you quietly groaned and rolled your eyes, but kept on smiling and listening.

You and Father Paul had talked late into the evening. It had started as a friendly discussion about religion and Christianity, slowly progressed to getting to know each other and stories of your lives before coming to Crockett Island, before finally becoming a pleasant banter about everything and nothing. The band has long since abandoned the stage, people had packed up the tents and most of those few who remained were currently sitting around a bonfire, talking, singing, or just relaxing. Darkness has fallen and enveloped you and Father Paul like a comforting blanket. You could barely see his face, the only light sources being the bonfire some 60 feet away and a lone street light even farther. A nice feeling of fatigue has started to come over you and you barely stifled a yawn. Father Paul noticed and even in the dim light you could see the white of his teeth flash in a grin. "I can't see my watches, but I'm going to guess it's late," he said with an amused tone. You fished out your phone out of the pocket of your jacket, which you put back on when the temperature dropped with the oncoming night, and glanced at the screen. You immediately regretted it, as you had kept the brightness on 100% and felt like your retina was about to burn to ashes. "It's not even that late, to be honest," you said, trying to cover up another yawn fighting its way through you, "just after half past nine. But I didn't get much sleep yesterday, so I'm a bit tired." You put your phone back into your pocket. Father Hill stood up and reached out a hand to you. You looked at him questioningly. "I'll walk you home," he clarified. You've been living on Crocket Island for quite some time, walked the entire place (including the cat filled Uppards) many times and you were pretty sure you could find your way home blindfolded. Not to mention it's perfectly safe for a woman to walk home alone at night here.

And yet.

And yet you took the Father's offered hand and let him pull you to your feet. He then repositioned your hand to his right arm and started walking. "My, my, father, who knew priests were such gentlemen?" you teased him softly but let him walk you anyway. Truth be told, it felt nice to be in the centre of attention of such a handsome man. 'The handsome man is a priest' spoke a guilty voice in your head, but you managed to quiet it down. You weren't doing anything bad, therefore you had no reason to feel guilty. A friendly priest was simply escorting you home to make sure you're safe from the dangers of... um, stray cats, you supposed. "I'd simply hate for you to fall asleep somewhere on your way because I kept you so long." Or that, that works too, you thought to yourself and chuckled and he followed suit.

When you reached your front door, you let go of his arm to find your keys. You learnt that many people on the island don't lock their homes, even if they're asleep or not present, and while the safety of the island was one of the reasons you stayed, you still didn't feel comfortable just leaving your door unlocked. Finally you found your keys and opened the door. "Would you," you began, turning back around to face Paul, "would you like something, like a cup of tea, or a cocoa?" Father Paul smiled and you could see him better now since you were standing closer to a street lamp. "Are you not tired anymore?" he teased. "Oh, I am, a bit, but you're obviously not," you countered in the same tone, "so you can have a cuppa and go home afterwards and I'll just pass out on the couch." Father Paul laughed earnestly at that and it was one of the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard. One of the prettiest sights too. "You're very kind, and I'll surely take you up on that offer sometime, but tonight I'll leave you to get your beauty sleep," he said with that same kind and honest smile you were sure he probably got patented and turned to leave. Before he did though, he couldn't quite stop himself from one last retort: "I'll see you in mass on Sunday. Let's see about that convincing." Wink. He just winked at you. You couldn't help but giggle and roll your eyes: "Good night, father," you said cheekily as you retreated into your house and shut the door.

As you set about your evening routine, you couldn't stop thinking about him. True, your mind was on other things too, like Erin and Riley's rediscovered affection, poor Leeza in her wheelchair, and the (in your eyes) very real danger of Bev Keane almost killing Joe Collie's dog. But everytime your mind came back to him. You thought about his eyes, how they looked at every stage of the sunset and how the light in them seemed to shine even after the sun submerged itself below the horizon completely. And you thought about his voice, how it always slightly changed with the matter discussed, from serious and intense, to light and amused. And right before you drifted off to sleep you allowed yourself to think of the priest's pretty, kissable lips. Just for that tiny little moment.

---

You probably just became religious.

All you could do was gawk like a demented owl as Leeza Scarborough took a step after step towards Father Paul to get her communion. Your expression wasn't that different from other people in the church. Many had their mouths open in which would in any other situation be a hilarious way. Some people were tearing up. Some were praying hard. Leeza's parents, Wade and Dolly were ugly sobbing and covering their mouths. Leeza then turned around to face everyone. You've never seen anyone's face containing so many emotions at once. Shock and disbelief soon turned to a look of ecstasy, so wild and raw and unhinged, just looking at her you wanted to scream and laugh and cry in manic happiness. For the first time in your life, you folded your hands together, bent down slightly and started praying. You thanked God, thanked him for letting Leeza walk again, thanked him for showing the young girl his mercy and humbly asked that he keep her healthy. After your quiet 'Amen' you felt another hand enveloping yours. It was Erin. She took you hand in hers and held it tight, looked at you with tears in her eyes and without a word the two of you embraced hard. She then wiped her other hand over her face to clean off the few tears that escaped. The mass ended soon afterwards. The Scarboroughs thanked Father Paul profusely, before excusing themselves in order to visit Dr Gunning about their daughter's miraculous healing. Erin and Riley left together once more and many others walked away in groups, talking loudly and praying among themselves. Just like after the first mass with Father Paul, you were bewildered and stayed behind.

"If you don't believe in God after this, I'm not sure what else you want," sounded an acerbic voice from somewhere to the side. Turning your head, you saw Bev Keane. You hadn't spoken to her at all after Crock Pot Luck and when she tried to approach you, you hurriedly made yourself look busy or caught in a conversation with someone else. It wasn't strange for you to chat up Sheriff Hassan amicably for quite a while, but this one particular while was so long, even he noticed. After Bev got tired of waiting and left, you awkwardly explained your predicament and he immediately nodded his head in understanding. Right now, though, there was really nobody to save you from this woman, and you couldn't exactly manifest a hammer and nails out of thin air to tell her you were busy, what, reinforcing the church walls?

So you accepted your fate, stood up from the pew and went to face her straight on, feeling like a knight about to fight a dragon. She observed you coldly, like usual, but when you looked into her eyes, you realised something. She knew. She knew you saw her giving Pike the hot dog. And in that moment, you also knew that you were right to step in. "Oh, but I never said I didn't believe in God," you said softly, trying to appear as calm and polite as you could, "I just said I'm not Catholic, that I don't have a religion." That seemed to take the wind out of her sails, but she recovered quickly: "Well then, maybe you'll reconsider. You're not really local, so you wouldn't know, but religion is a big part of this community. You see, you come here every Sunday, accept blessings and get to experience God's miracles right before your eyes and still you won't join us,won't commit yourself? Won't give anything back to the community?" Now was your turn to shut up and stare at her, disbelief fetched on your face. "What are you saying?" you asked quietly. Bev smiled at you, a mean smile: "I'm only saying, that if you really do plan on, well, staying here, on this island, the very least you could do is try to fit in and become a part of this community, not just leech on it."

You could feel tears starting to form in your eyes. You knew she was a cruel woman, that she was trying to purposely hurt you, but a small voice inside your head started asking the little nasty questions anyway. 'Am I really leeching on these people?', 'Should I just go and become a catholic? Will I be driven out if I won't?', 'Am I not welcomed here anymore? Should I stop going here?' You tried to will yourself, you tried to be strong, to gather the courage to tell her off, but a single tear had already rolled over the edge and landed on your cheek, slowly running down all the way to your chin and then falling down onto the wooden floor of Saint Patrick's it fell.

"That's enough," said a different voice, one that made you quickly wipe the tear track off your cheek with the sleeve of your jumper and made Bev Keane freeze like a statue. A gentle hand landed on your right shoulder and a comforting warmth settled on your left side as Father Paul appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, to your rescue. "Beverly, this is the house of God," he said, and while he was as soft-spoken as he always is, there was a stern and cold undertone in his rich voice, "The doors are always open just as the gates are always open, to anyone and everyone who comes with peace and humility. One's religion is one's own choice and I am more than happy to interpret from the Bible to all, be they Catholic or not." Bev just stared at him, her expression that of a child who knew they were caught doing something bad, but weren't feeling guilty about it. "I didn't mean anything by it," she said in the most sickeningly sweet voice and smiled, "I was only imploring our friend to consider her decisions. Father, (F/N) (L/N)." And with that she'd spun on her heel and left.

Father Paul's arm was still wrapped gently around your shoulders. You stood, your look transfixed to the ground where your tear fell and you felt terribly tiny. Just fifteen minutes ago, you felt over the moon with happiness and gratefulness for little Leeza and now you just wanted to go home, bury yourself under pillows and blankets and never leave the house again. "Come on," said Father Paul, the coldness in his voice gone and replaced with comfort, "let's get you some tea." He led you out the back of the church, still with his arm around you, and you let him. Before you knew it, you were at the rectory and he opened the door. His home was humble, there was a small sofa on the left of the door sat in front of an old telly. On the right was a desk and several chairs. Behind them stood a tall bookshelf filled with books. On the far left side was a kitchen with the basic necessities, a stove with an oven, a sink, and an old-timey refrigerator. To the back of the room were doors leading to Father Paul's bedroom. You presumed the bathroom was somewhere in the back.

Father Paul sat you down onto the tiny sofa and set about making you a cup of tea. You sat quietly for a while, just staring into space. “Am I really just leeching off these people?” you couldn��t stop yourself from saying out loud. The priest ceased his movement just as he was about to put the kettle on. After a second or two, he finally fired the stove up and put the kettle down. “No,” he said and came slowly into your view. Father Paul, young, fit, and already beloved and respected by his congregation, got to his knee in front of you and grasped your hands, “No, you’re not. You came to an island which most people leave and decided to stay. You care about these people, you try to help them as best as you can and you are actively trying to be one of them. And they see it. They realise it. And even if you never become religious, if you never come to get your holy communion, you’ll always have your place here. On this island, with these people, in this church. So don’t let what Bev says get to you, okay?” New tears were threatening to spill as you listened to Father Paul. You felt a soft finger underneath your chin and you looked up into the pastor’s soft, gentle eyes. And when you did, he gave you the kindest smile yet. And even as you did let the tears fall freely, you smiled right back at him.

—

It became something of a habit. At least twice a week you and Father Paul would meet outside of church, either at your home or the rectory, for a cup of tea and a chat. Ever since the little incident with Bev, you found that you could talk more freely with him. About everything, really. You talked some more about religion and Catholicism and he explained to you how one who wasn't born into a catholic family and baptised even becomes a catholic. Seeing as you had no knowledge about actually entering the church, your brain spun from all the information rather quickly. That some people can spend whole years as catechumens, before they're actually ready to be baptised and that the rite of election usually starts on the first Sunday of lent. The actual initiation to catholic church then takes place on Easter vigil. It was a lot to take in, but Father Paul remained forever patient, and always willing to explain.

You talked about many other things too. You learned some time ago that he had taken it upon himself to lead a local AA group, so that Riley didn't need to waste the entire day away just to go to and from the mainland. Paul came around one evening looking very happy and proud. He told you about Joe Collie, whom Leeza Scarborough forgave the bizarre 'hunting' accident and who in turn decided to give up drinking. You enthusiastically listened to him talk about homilies he was preparing and the awaited Easter vigil. He even shared some not so public stories, like how he found Warren Flynn secretly snogging Leeza behind the church after one of the masses, or how he heard Erin pray for the health of her baby and had a hard time keeping from chuckling as he overheard her whisper 'Oh, and please let it be a girl, amen' before she ran out of the church. You in turn told him about a new book you were working on, or about your attempts at drawing and painting. You once invited him out for a walk through the small forest behind the church and he happily accepted. And that became a habit too.

However, with every day, every cup of tea, every walk and every Sunday mass, it became more and more difficult for you to be in Paul's almost saintly presence and stop yourself from thinking positively sinful thoughts. More and more you find yourself looking at his beautiful lips, thinking how velvety soft they must be and how sweet they must taste. When he puts his large gentle hand on the small of your back, you find yourself wishing he'd take your face in his hands, or run his elegant fingers through your hair. When he wraps an arm around your shoulders amicably, all you see in your mind's eye are his long, strong arms enveloping you in their heat and safety until you know nothing else. And when he speaks, you imagine lying with him, your head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his voice, as he talks to you softly. Not to mention the even more wickedly sinful impure thoughts. All in all, you found yourself desperately, maddly and absolutely in love with your friend, who just so happens to be a catholic priest.

As Easter vigil approached, it became even harder, as Paul seemed to always find a reason to touch you. Brushing his fingers along yours as he was handing you your tea, or laying his hand on yours after you had made him laugh. When on a walk, he'd put his hand on your back more often than not and once, when he discovered a lovely place that overlooked the entire island, he actually led you there by hand, linking your fingers together. You decided you couldn't live like this anymore. To know you love someone and feel them so close to you, only to have them taken away again as reality kicks in feels like a heartbreak every time. To love someone as a friend and needing to have constant self control over yourself, else you let your instincts take over and risk driving the person away is exhausting. And honestly, you weren't even sure what was worse. When Paul once told you 'I'm so glad you're here with me' with that smile of his and the ever so kind and gentle look in his eyes, you wanted to tell him. You wanted to kiss him, to fly into his arms and never leave them and hating yourself for the very thought. And as much as he was fond of you, you knew that he would never leave his flock, wouldn't turn his back to his god for an earthly temptation, and therefore you would never actually know what it was like to kiss him.

Some people took notice of your rotten mood whenever you came down from the high you got when in his presence. Annie tried to cheer you up by her cooking, for which you were eternally grateful, but it didn't help. Sheriff Hassan tried to lift your spirits by telling your far fetched and utterly ridiculous stories from his time as a policeman. You did laugh at all of them, but it didn't help. You could spend hours and hours playing with Pike, but it would never be enough. Erin was the only one who actually addressed the issue openly, pleading with you to tell her what is actually wrong. And, for some bizarre reason, you actually did. You told her about your infatuation with Father Paul and how much he means to you not only as a priest and a friend, but also as a man. Erin listened. She didn't judge you and she didn't mock you. She didn't call you a sinner and she didn't even chastise you. After what felt like hours of you spilling all of your frustration with your predicament, she finally spoke: "You should tell him." "What?" you sputtered, bewildered. "You heard me," she said, "you should tell him. If anything, you'll get it out of your system. Maybe it'll get better." You sat down heavily on her couch and put your head in your hands. You sighed and muttered into your palms. "What was that?" said Erin, genuinely not having understood you. You looked up at her, miserably: "What if he hates me?" You honestly felt like crying, but strangely dull at the same time. "He could never hate you. You're probably his most favourite person on this island, if all the little forest dates are anything to go by," Erin said, amused. You however felt there was nothing humorous about your situation and only covered your face again. "He won't hate you. Just tell him. Maybe you'll even be surprised." Those were words you'd desperately wanted to believe, but found it difficult to. "He's a priest, Erin. After Leeza, nearly the entire island attends his mass. I even saw Joe hanging around at the last one… There's no way… To be honest I-" you stopped for a moment, "I think it might be better if I left."

Neither of you said anything for the longest time. You were softly weeping into your hands while Erin stared at the back of your head in disbelief. "You… You would actually leave? You'd actually leave this all behind?" she was saying as if it was physically impossible to imagine such a thing, "you would leave me and the little one? You would just pack up and leave your home, your neighbours, even after they finally accepted you as one of their own? I'm sorry (Y/N), but that's bullshit!" You winced at the shrill of her voice. "That's bullshit and you know it. Come on," her voice went down again as she noticed your shoulders shake. Gently she rubbed circles into your back before taking a hold of your wrists with her free hand and pulling them away from your face. "Do you mean that?" she then asked, her voice quiet and soft now, "would you actually leave me here all on my own, the only sane woman?" Through teary eyes you looked at her and truthfully admitted: "I would never leave you behind." Erin pulled you close, put your head on her shoulder and made small shushing noises as you gradually calmed down. "I'll tell him," you promised then, "after the Easter vigil."

—

The Easter vigil in Saint Patrick's was a beautiful thing to experience. The entire island, including you, walked to the church using candles to light your way while singing hymns. You felt so entirely light as you walked next to the Scarboroughs and the Flynns. You sang too, and you let your heart replace your brain momentarily, just so you could enjoy the celebration. You let the amazing blessed things fall on your shoulders at once. The Flynn family and their reconciliation, the Scarboroughs and their miracle, Erin and her little one, Joe Collie and his ultimate sign to be a better man. All at once you felt the goodness. And it nearly brought a tear to your eye. Good things are still happening and there are good people to experience them. But this all faded as you laid your eyes on Father Paul. He read from the old books up until the crucifiction of Christ, his death and his revival. And while you deeply enjoyed hearing him talk, you suddenly felt like there was a stone blocking your airway. And you felt like it would suffocate you surely, until-

"So how's that for convincing?" asked Father Paul. All people present were slowly leaving the church. Erin looked at you once, gave you a nod, and then left with Riley. "Listen, um," you looked up at him, and your desperation was probably very visible in your eyes, for his entire focus shifted to you, "I need to talk to you. Privately."

Father Paul just nodded and took your hand once more. He didn't let go until you were in the rectory, sat on his bed for some reason. Only then did he ask what's on your mind. It was so quick you hadn't even been able to build your defenses,or make any sort of back up plan, etc. You just decided to speak.

"I can't become a catholic," you blurted out, feeling a bit sick to your stomach. "Oh," said Father Paul immediately, "why not?" "Because I'm sinning right now, father…" "Why is that?" said Father Paul, his cool facade melting ever so slowly. "Because I'm wanting, father. Because I'm lusting. I'm lusting after a man of the cloth and I feel like I love him. I'm a sinner, because I wish to feel his warmth close to me and I wish to be on his mind always. I want him to kiss me senseless and make me his. Forgive me father, for I have sinned and I am sinning as we speak." You caught your breath finally and looked into Father Paul's eyes. They were nearly unreadable to you, but you saw something within them anyway. A hunger. And when you looked a little closer, you saw there was something you could only call love too.

Father Paul Hill slowly wrapped his arms around you and pressed his soft lips upon yours. And for a little while you felt like you were lost. Lost in the divine sensation of sweet soft lips melting against your own. Your fingers tangled into his hair and he grabbed you as if you were the only thing keeping him alive. You moaned softly as he pulled you into his lap. Being so close to him, your entire brain shut down and you only felt the sensations. The sensation of him kissing up and down your neck, of his arms linking around you so tightly, of teeth nibbling on each inch of exposed skin. You were so lost in pleasure and adoration you almost missed the one sentence you wished to hear, but never thought you actually would. "I love you," sighed Father Paul inbetween kisses. You gasped, but recovered very quickly and pulled him tighter into you. Gently, you grasped at his raven locks and made him look at your face; in your eyes. "I love you too," you replied and pulled him close once more. So forbidden and yet so right, you had no idea what would happen next. One thing you did know though; as long as you and Father Paul laid upon his bed, your lips red and swollen from kissing and your hearts light and filled with love - Life is going to be just fine.

I hope you liked it. I’ll be a happy little sucker if you tell me whatcha think or check this story out on AO3 thank xx

#midnight mass #fanfiction #father paul hill #father paul #father paul x reader #father paul/reader #i love you hamish linklater #erin greene #riley flynn #fluff #no smut #sfw #everyone lives au #nobody dies #fix-it #no vampires au #midnight mass fanfiction

293 notes · View notes