#felt like his character was pushed to his limit and he finally did what he should have did since the war on cybertron | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cozage · 11 months

Note

Kicks door down: HELLO

I accidentally sent this request when they were closed so sorry abt that. BUT.

Can you do the water healing one where y/n almost (or does. I’m down for angst) dies because they pushed themselves too much? Bonus points if they literally had no other option

Hi friend! This took me a second to get done because WOAH it was angsty!

CW: Reader death bc i love angst (blame supernova not me), marineford spoilers :) Characters: Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Law, Ace Word Count: 2.8k

Part 1

Zoro

Zoro trusted you. He did. But Luffy shouldn’t be as energetic as he is right now, even with your healing. Luffy had gone down three times. And Zoro knew you had healed him twice before you had hit your limit. Zoro had seen you vomiting from the pain before he had to go fight his own battle. He had left you curled up in a ball crying in pain, but alive.

It didn’t make sense how Luffy was so…bouncy. He should be sleeping off the pain and exhaustion from battle, but he wasn’t. So Zoro set off to find you, afraid of what he might find.

There was an urgency to his movement, his pace faster than normal as he made his way to the last place he saw you. But you weren’t there. Instead, he found a trail of blood, leading off into a side hallway.

It was your blood. Zoro wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. Zoro clenched his jaw, preparing for the worst as he rounded the corner. But it was just another blood trail.

He was running as he followed it, weaving around corners and down hallways. He finally came to a door, and the trail ended right in front of it. The doorknob had a dark red liquid on it, but Zoro hardly paid it any mind as he pulled the door open. He found you on the other side, sprawled out on the floor. He dove down to you, looking for any open wound that would need to have pressure applied.

“Please,” he begged. “Wake up.”

He could tell by the amount of blood around you that it was too late to save you. He kneeled next to you and lifted your limp body, trying to get you to sit up. He checked for a pulse or any signs of breathing, but as he expected, there weren’t any. And so he held you, brushing away the hair that was matted on your face and whispered endless apologies. He should’ve found you sooner. You were only dead now because of his mistakes earlier.

He held you against his chest and pressed his forehead against yours. Zoro knew he should be crying, but he hasn’t cried in years. He just sat there, softly begging you to wake up, waiting for you to show any signs of life.

When the rest of the crew finds him, he’s as still as a statue. Nami’s wails and Chopper’s movements around your body don’t even faze him. He doesn’t even really hear them. It’s like he’s underwater, just waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Because he can’t survive the cold reality of living alone without you.

Luffy

“Don’t heal me, you won’t…”

Those had been Luffy’s last words to you before he had fallen into unconsciousness from his injuries. He had a vague memory of you giving him a soft kiss and whispering something about the king of the pirates, but Luffy wasn’t sure if that was a dream or not.

Now, as he looked at your broken body, he only felt one emotion.

Rage.

At himself. At you. At the universe, for being so cruel. And at the man in front of him, who took you away.

Everyone thought that your death would immobilize Luffy, in the same way that Ace’s had. But it didn’t. He screamed in rage, and even his own crewmates struggled to stay conscious from the overwhelming power Luffy unleashed.

Luffy had struggled against his foe, but now the fight was over in a moment. It was like a beast came out of him, snarling and destroying everything in its path. The enemy hadn’t even known what had hit him before he was dead. Luffy had a no kill policy, but an eye for an eye seemed more than fair right now.

Only after the enemy was destroyed, did Luffy mourn. He ran to your side, asking Chopper to heal you. He begged the reindeer, pulling out each piece of equipment demanding “Have you tried this?!”

Half of the stuff wouldn’t have helped even if you were alive, but he still begged Chopper to try. And Chopper indulged him, even though the little reindeer was sobbing himself.

When everything was out of the bag, Luffy finally gave in to despair. It was this moment where he went into complete shock, inconsolable at the thought of you truly being gone. He beat on the ground next to you, screaming and sobbing.

“Please! Please come back!” He screamed over and over again, until his voice was gone. Even when his voice was gone, he just sat there and sobbed next to you. The crew sat with him quietly, waiting for him to finish his grieving. They sat with him all day and late into the night, each of them crying in their own way with him.

Sanji

Sanji had only seen this much blood one other time before. On Thriller Bark, when Zoro had taken all of Luffy’s pain. That’s what you had done too: taken all of Luffy’s pain. And Zoro’s pain. And his own. You had taken on all three of their injuries so they could keep fighting.

“Go,” you whispered, laying on the floor. You tried to keep the sobs out of your voice, but Sanji heard them and stayed where he was.

He held your head in his lap, gently stroking your hair. “Does this hurt, my love?”

“Sanji. You need to go fight.” You didn’t want him to see you like this. You knew it was the end.

“I’m not leaving. You’re hurt. You need me.”

“I need you to go do your damn job,” you said. Tears were flowing out of your eyes onto his pants. “I need you to beat these guys and go find the All Blue. And make sure Luffy becomes King of the Pirates. And Zoro-” you struggled to breathe. “Zoro needs to be the greatest swordsman. Promise me?”

“Shhhh. Don’t talk,” he whispered. His voice was so soothing. You could feel your eyes getting heavier with each word. “Save your strength.”

“Sanji,” you pleaded. “Please.”

“I promise.” His voice was thick with tears. “Just stay with me. I’m here.”

You felt wet drops hit your head, but you were too tired to turn and see if he was crying. You couldn’t even offer false hope. Words were too hard to form. Perhaps just a short rest would be good for you.

Sanji was too scared to check your pulse, but he knew when you were gone. You just felt different in his arms. He couldn’t explain why.

He sobbed. But he didn’t beg. He knew it was useless. A part of him had been scared of this happening since the very beginning. His father always told him he was cursed. Everything he loved always died. He was foolish to think you’d be the exception. And now he was alone again. It was almost enough to convince him to throw himself into the ocean and join you in the afterlife.

But no, he made a promise. Your dying wish. So he had to do this for you and for his friends. He would protect Luffy, he would find the All Blue, and he’d even help that stupid marimo. Not because he wanted to do it. But because his promise to you was the only thing worth living for now.

Law

When Law came back from the brink of death, he knew it was bad. When he came to his senses, he was laying on the ground, and you were crumpled on top of him. You had saved him again, given his energy back to keep fighting. And now you were in pain because of it.

He could still feel his energy returning to him, slowly now. He cursed, realizing you were still struggling to help him.

“Stop!” he hissed. He shambled you away from him, and you landed in the alleyway across the street with a sickening smack against the ground.

“I told you not to help me!” he screamed at you. “I can fight my own battles!”

A roar came from down the street, and he remembered the reason he was so beat up in the first place. The enemy was closing in again, but with this newfound energy he would finish them off. And then he would deal with you.

The battle was over quickly. It had been close before, but now he had the clear advantage, invigorated with energy from you and with the rage of almost losing.

He walked back to the alley to find you, anger coursing through his veins at what you had done. You had made a promise, and you had always stuck to it. But he still hated it.

“I told you not to help me during battle!” he yelled as he approached you. “I told you not to endanger yourself!”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even move, and that’s when Law realized you were still in the same position you had been when he sent you away. Your chest wasn’t even rising and falling.

Panic spiked his heart rate, and he quickly shambled over to you. He ran a scan over your body. No Life Detected.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. His knees grew weak, and he collapsed next to you.

“Y/n-ya. Wake up.”

But you were still frozen in place, only a trail of blood running from the corner of your mouth.

“Please,” he begged, tears filling his eyes. “Please don’t do this. You promised.”

Your limp body offered no response, and he switched from begging to action. He began CPR, rushing through the events that led to this. You had been alive when he woke up, and the fight had only taken a few minutes. Your body wasn’t rigid, so there was still a possibility he could breathe life back into your lungs.

But he was the Doctor of Death, and no miracles were performed that day. Instead, his crew found him an hour later, still giving you chest compressions. They watched for thirty minutes, before Shachi finally stepped in.

“Captain,” Shachi said standing next to him. “I don’t think-”

“Shut up!” Law barked. He didn’t stop his rhythm. If he could just get your heart to beat on its own for a moment, it would all be okay.

“You can’t leave me,” Law choked out in a sob. “You promised.”

His crew let him continue to try to revive you, even though they all knew it was a fruitless endeavor. Finally, after three hours, he collapsed.

His crew rarely saw him shed a tear, but today he sobbed into your chest with more emotion than he had ever shown. And he was never really the same afterwards, either.

Ace

“I can fix him!” you screamed, running out towards the brothers.

“Like hell,” Marco yelled, grabbing your wrist to hold you back. “It’s too bad. You know that. You can’t save him.”

“I can,” you sobbed. “I have to. I have to!”

You pulled yourself out of Marco’s grip, and dashed towards Luffy.

“Ace…” Luffy breathed out. “You can’t die.”

“He won’t,” you assured him, sitting down next to him. Ace’s wound looked even worse from here, and you could feel bile rising in your mouth. You had to resist the urge to vomit. You had work to do.

“Luffy, stay with me, okay? I need you to be ready to take him to safety.”

You were prepared to die for him. You had been for a while. There was no better way to go than saving the man you loved.

“Dont-” Ace sputtered, coughing up blood.

You pressed your lips to his cheek. “I love you, Ace. Keep living for me, okay?”

Those were fitting last words, and so you pulled out some water from your flask and placed your hands over the hole in his chest. It didn’t matter that everyone was watching you while you did this. You were the last of your kind. Your power would die with you.

The pain came instantly, just as it had for Ace. You could feel your insides shredding apart as you used your power to repair him. His heart, his vital organs, that’s what you chose to focus on. The things he couldn’t live without had to be repaired by you. Marco could do the rest when they were safe.

You could feel Ace fighting you, desperate to get away from your grip, but you held on tight, even as your vision became dark and blurry, even as you felt consciousness beginning to slip away, you would continue healing him until the end.

What was only a few seconds felt like eternity, and Ace felt his body slowly begin to heal. He could breathe again.

“Luffy,” he mumbled. “Get her off of me.”

“Ace. Your wound.” Luffy pulled back to look at Ace. “It’s closing up.”

“She’s dying,” Ace sobbed, trying to push your limp body off of him.

“I’ll be damned,” Akainu said, staring down at your work. “I thought that power was just a myth.”

“Luffy, take her away. Now!” Ace yelled, pushing you towards his little brother.

“A shame her sacrifice will amount to nothing, though,” Akainu said from behind. Ace felt volcanic heat stir up behind him again. Another strike from Akainu was coming, but Ace was paralyzed with grief.

Jinbe jumped in front of Ace and held off the attack. “Ace, my friend. You have been given another chance. You mustn't lose it now!”

Luffy helped Ace to his feet, still staring at his chest where a hole had once been. It wasn’t completely healed, but Ace was moving. That’s all that mattered.

“We can’t leave her,” Ace said, tears flooding out of her eyes. “Luffy, we can’t-”

Ace’s body racked with a fit of coughs, and Luffy stopped. “Ace! Are you okay?! Does it hurt?!”

“We need to go get her,” Ace said, starting to turn back. But Luffy kept propelling him forward.

His crewmates were cheering them on, not realizing what your healing had cost you. “If we get you to the ship, we win! Ace! Come on!”

But Ace kept fighting Luffy, trying to go back for you. He couldn’t leave you like this. You had sacrificed everything and now you were lying there in the dirt under Akainu. It wasn’t fair. This was his fault.

“I’ll get her,” Marco yelled. “Keep going, Ace. You need to go! Pops put everything on the line for you! Don’t waste it now!”

When they finally made it back to the ship, Ace’s eyes scoured the horizon, waiting for Marco to return with you. People were celebrating their victory, but Ace felt like he was going to throw up.

Finally he saw Marco, carrying your too limp body. As Marco landed on the deck, Ace could see tears in his eyes.

“No,” Ace whimpered. “No. No! NO! Marco, fix her!”

Everyone stopped to watch the scene unfold. Even Luffy was at a loss for words.

Marco laid your body down on the deck and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I can’t fix her, Ace. She’s gone.”

“No she’s not! You just didn’t try hard enough!” Ace bent down next to you, grabbing your body and shaking it. “Wake up, Y/N! Wake up! You told me you wouldn’t do this.”

Everyone watched as Ace collapsed against you, violently sobbing into your chest. He slammed his hands against the deck, cursing the world and cursing himself, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear.

Marco waited a few minutes before intervening. “Ace,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You need to stop.”

“I love you,” Ace sobbed into your chest, beating against the deck. His hands were starting to get bloody from the repetitive punching. “Please stay with me.”

“Ace,” Marco tried again. “If you keep acting like this, your wound will reopen.”

“Let me die, then,” Ace cried.

“Like hell!” Marco yelled, infuriated with his fellow commander. “You will NOT make her sacrifice and everyone else's sacrifice be in vain! I won’t let you!”

“You don’t get it, Marco!” Ace yelled. He tried to stand, and staggered a bit in the process. “She was the only thing worth living for.”

“And now you have to live with the fact that your disobedience killed her,” Marco’s words were harsh, but true. “But you still have to live! Or else you’d be spitting in her face!”

Ace screamed out in rage and charged towards Marco. However, Ace’s injury made him much slower than usual, and Marco ducked beneath the attack and jumped behind him.

Ace felt a small pinch in the back of his neck, and the world started to go dark. “I won’t let you kill yourself. She would never forgive me,” Marco whispered, catching Ace as he lost his footing.

As Ace plunged into darkness, all he wanted was to see you one more time. To apologize for all the trouble he caused.

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wiinterz · 3 months

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remedy for him | toji

pairing: toji x black plus size!fem reader

genre: established relationship, drabble

warnings: cursing, fingering, eating out, overstimulation, squirting, dacryphilia, unprotected sex

word count: 530

summary: he fucks you for his pleasure

☏ ᴛᴀʏ’s ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs: old drabble! i love writing pussy drunk characters

recs | taglist | help hub | jjk m.list

HIS FINGERS STICKY WITH your cum spilling out of your pussy. some running down your inner thigh as a bit dripped on the bedsheets. his tongue is licking his fingers a bit before he goes back and shoves his face against your pussy. your knees buckled as you feel yourself being pushed back and forth with moans escaping.

he’s fucking pussy drunk, been eating you out for four minutes now, making you cum at least five times now. you moan and allow yourself to crumble, from his tongue as he’s sucking and licking your clit.

his fingers shoved in your pussy, stretching you out as he spits on it. you’re a hot mess, moans and whimpers becoming louder than the last as you beg to cum. tears spilling to your chin.

he wants more, needs more. pulling you closer to him you moan as he widens his mouth and starts sucking harder, you’re squirming like crazy but that doesn’t stop him. in fact, it’s helping. “fuck.” you scream as your pussy clenches. you’re so close to having another orgasm and if you think after that one you would be done, you’re a fool.

toji wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon, precum messing up his boxers as he felt sticky himself. he was palming himself a little, moans and groans escaping out of his mouth and into your cunt. he wanted to pull his dick out and just shove it in you right then and there but he wanted to push you to your limit and then pleasure you.

right now, this was his pleasure, this was all about him. sucking your fat pussy, pushing his fingers in as he scooped out cum and pushed it right back in. oh he was doing it for him, none for you.

you were babbling on about how you’re close and he goes faster, fucking you dumb. that’s what he loves, when you can’t think straight or even move correctly, you’re fully vulnerable for him to take care of you and love you. your legs shake and he keeps you steady, smacking your ass as he pushes you open for him.

you had squirted and came, and he still kept going. you were so sensitive you kept crying, his dick was red as a cherry, ready for release. his dick was a mess with his pre-cum. letting you go, you collapsed on the bed as he pulled it out, stroking it a little.

he’s praising you constantly as you push yourself up for him. he knew you were greedy, you wanted more even though he made you cum a bunch of times with his mouth and fingers alone.

toji shoved his dick in you, letting his pre-cum spread around the outside of your pussy. you both moan loudly as your senses heighten. he held his dick with his left hand and held onto your ass with his right. he pushed in and out, teasing you as you moaned. finally slamming into you, you moan loudly, falling on the bed completely as he did the work.

toji loves nights like this, fucking adored that shit. you were his remedy and he loved how you kept supplying.

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taintedtort · 1 year

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hi there, i love your writing and i’d like to make a request!!

i’d love to see a chronically ill reader who tries to hide their illness from their partner (xiao, wanderer) because the near constant comments about how wEaK aNd pAtHeTiC mOrTaLs aRe has made them insecure and afraid that their partner would no longer want to be with them if they knew how weak they truly were.

bonus points if they find out about the illness because the reader pushed themselves too far and could no longer hide the symptoms in front of them :) feed me the hurt/comfort :)

prompt ✧ sick reader

characters ✧ xiao, wanderer

warnings ✧ gn!reader, mentions of illness, hurt/comfort

a/n ✧ FINALLY writing this, sorry it took a minute… and thank you for the request!! (i literally hit the limit for words in one text box so these are cut up into sections)

XIAO

✧ when he found out you were ill and that you weren’t able to be permanently cured, he felt like crying. which is big for xiao, he doesn’t feel many emotions, especially sadness, and he doesn’t know how to cope. so he did what he thought was best.

you were trying to help him in his demon hunts, something he told you over and over was a bad idea, but he let you come anyway after you insisted so many times. he couldn’t really say no to you about most things, so he just decided to be extra careful and on guard. he steered clear of spots he knew were way too dangerous and let you follow him around to watch.

eventually, you told him you felt lightheaded right before passing out. he, of course, caught you, but at that exact moment he felt his world fall apart. automatically assumed you were feeling side affects from his debt, which caused him to blame himself harshly. swore that when he knew you were alright, he’d leave so he didn’t harm you anymore.

when you woke in your bed at the inn, he was laying right beside you, waiting for you. it made you smile, the fact that he stayed with you, but it faded when you saw the look on his face. you asked him what was wrong but got no answer, he just placed a kiss to your forehead and whispered a quiet apology before he vanished. confused and still in a sleepy daze, you didn’t think much about it and assumed he was apologizing for having to leave for his duties.

a week passed and you didn’t see him, you grew achingly worried. you asked everyone around town if they’d seen him, but you only got apologies in return. you tracked him down for days, hurt and confused, and he knew that of course, he was watching you. he couldn’t be near you, but he had to know you were alright. you seemed upset at the absence of him, but xiao knew you’d be better off. he ignored the desperate calls of his name from your lips, breaking his promise that he’d always be there for you. it shattered him, and it shattered you.

after weeks of your voice calling out to him but getting no answer, you started to feel dejected. you didn’t want to face the fact that he may really be gone for good. you knew why too— he couldn’t be seen with such a weak mortal. his apology was out of pity for your poor state, not because he felt bad for leaving. with that conclusion, your heart was no more. you fell out into sobs, stomach wrenching sobs that left your head aching. with a final attempt, you choked out xiaos name and a plea followed close behind it.

you aren’t sure why he decided to show up that particular time, but he did. you saw his feet materialize from your spot on the ground and your head shot up. when he saw your face, your tears, he knew he’d caused you the most amount of pain possible. he tried to keep a straight face so you wouldn’t see how much this was hurting him, it was for your own good, but he couldn’t push you away when you leaped up from the ground and brought him into an embrace. you clutched onto him, your tears wetting his shirt as you kept repeating questions as to where he’d been and why he left. he thought he owed it to you to at least give an explanation, so he told you. he told you how he had hurt you with his debt and that he never wanted to harm you ever again, so he had to leave. he told you how much he loves you and how he couldn’t live with himself if he put you in pain. while he spoke, he realized that he’d done what he was trying to avoid doing in the first place. the pain of him leaving you was much greater than any pain you could get from his debt.

when he finished with tears in his eyes, you told him the truth. the truth about your illness and why you had passed out that day. you let him know of your fears, the fear that he thought you were too weak, that you were just as pathetic as the other mortals he always spoke of. he was already shaking his head as you were talking, trying to deny those words before they entered your mind. he knew it may have been too late, but he asked for your forgiveness anyway. you called him an idiot and kissed him, both of your cheeks still wet.

"i never meant for this to happen, please forgive me, i’m so sorry."

WANDERER

✧ when he found out you had kept such a big secret from him, he was broken. why wouldn’t you tell him you were sick? he was your partner and you loved him, so why would you keep this from him? he started to doubt if you actually felt the same feelings he felt for you. that was until he saw your face after you told him your little secret.

you two had been exploring a new patch of forest you found. he was on guard, as were you, thanks to the unfamiliar land. you both went a long way before turning back, but by that time you already started to feel dizzy. you grabbed onto his arm and muttered his name, right before seeing black. he caught you, somewhat ungracefully, but your head didn’t hit the ground. he was literally stunned, just stared at you with his mouth slightly agape. he assumed either you got too hot, there was something in the air over in this area, or you hadn’t eaten. he ruled out the second one, he wasn’t feeling anything, nor did he notice anything different about the air. chalked it up to it being your fault and carried you back to your campsite.

he monitored you while you slept, which wasn’t very long, you woke within an hour. when you opened your eyes and glanced around, you were met with a sour faced wanderer. he was scowling at you with his arms crossed, and you just smiled back. once you sat up, he started demanding answers to his questions. what did you eat today? have you drank any water? did you walk for too long? did you feel hot? you knew he was just worried, and you didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to tell him the truth, so you just nervously laughed and tried to wave him off.

he obviously continued to pester you, refusing to let you wiggle out of this one. as your loving partner it was his job to make sure you took care of yourself, so he wasn’t letting this go. you had passed out, he needed to know why.

you, very reluctantly, told him about your sickness. you tried to keep it brief and make it sound less than it was, but he heard the words 'permanently ill' and his stomach dropped. you saw the look on his face and wished you could take it back, wished you would’ve just lied to him, wished you were strong, wished he’d see you the same.

he was already marking you as his fourth betrayal, you could tell. the pain in his eyes was clear, the sheer hurt clearly visible to you. it was you that had caused that look, and if he chose to leave you, you’d spend eternity with that image burned onto your eyelids. you already felt the stinging in your nose and the familiar tears forming at that thought. the thought of having to live without him, the thought of him resenting you.

when he noticed your lips trembling, his brows drew together. why were you crying? were you embarrassed? he truly didn’t understand human emotions sometimes. and because he didn’t understand, he asked you, that was the only way he knew how to get answers. when he saw your face carry confusion, he became truly lost. he asked why you were crying, what was so confusing about that? why do you have that look on your face? he knew he liked your smile best, but he wasn’t aware of how much he hated it when you were upset. he’d do anything to get that expression of your face.

so he did what he thought would help… he hugged you. he was aware that humans craved physical contact, especially when sad, and since he wasn’t very sure what helped you, he went with a hug. he was unaware of how to fix this because you rarely got sad around him. he brought you pure happiness with just his presence, so you’d never had the chance to cry with him around.

he got a bit nervous during his approach. usually when he’s going to initiate physical affection, you meet him halfway, but you stayed still while he got closer. it wasn’t until his arms were halfway around you that you allowed yourself to hug him back. your grip was strong, and you wouldn’t let him go ever again if he let you.

when he heard your pleading whispers of him not to leave you, he reeled back completely stunned. him? leave you? he wasn’t capable of doing such a thing. and he told you that. he told you how much he loves you, how he can’t live without you, and how you’re the light of his being, his reason for living.

"i’d never leave you, i wouldn’t be able to bring myself to even think of it."

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mechaknight-98 · 13 days

Text

Game Face (NSFW) FT Hyeju

Author’s note: something different and kinda gross.

“Picture this: it's the final round of Core-A’s Tatsunoko VS Capcom blast from the past tournament and you are facing off against a new challenger whose gamer tag is Mothra. The set is tied between you and her. She's been wrecking your team of Frank West and Tekkaman so to throw her for a curveball you go Polymer and Morrigan. Hyeju is confused “No one plays Polymer,” she says perplexed at your choice

You respond with, “Well I do!” and trounce her in a flawless victory winning a Wii a copy of the game, and 4 “classic controllers””

“Yah Daizo why don't you go bother someone else,” Hyeju says to me as I recount the story to James, Haseul, Arin, Jinsoo, and Nagyung. I shrug and sit down

I smiled as I sat down next to Arin she nestled in close to my neck as I shot my gaze towards her and she looked up at me her bespeckled eyes gleaming leaving my head dazzled.

“Yah I don't know why you're so cocky you came in third,” Hyeju rolls her eyes as she declares,

I look at her with narrow eyes before re-establishing, “Yeah because I only lost to Bon-wa. I beat everyone else I played against, and I would have beat you.” you laugh as despite my boisterous and arrogant antics I often “walked the walk” I put in way more hours into the game then you did and lobbed way more characters than you but yeah you beat me because you are the better player but you wouldn't have beaten Hyeju if weren't for me because I taught you how to play polymer, and suggested Morrigan as a pocket team to mess with high tier play because you can't accurately predict his next move.

“Oh come on Bon-wa beat you in 3 with one flawless win.”

Knowing I was about to dismantle her entire playstyle and give accurate ways to demolish her you defended me, “Sorry Hye but Daizo would level you. I only beat him because I know how he approaches the game and his patterns,”

Hyeju laughed “Please, and like I couldn't we all play together every Thursday, and he always comes in under us,” you and I look at each other at this point and I decide to point out what we both know,

I raise an eyebrow before striking the killing blow, “Um, Hyeju what two characters are my mains in TVC?”

Hyeju shrugs, “Um Karas and Chun Li?”

I look to you and you break the news to your girlfriend,

“Hye he hates playing Chun Li and Karas. He only does it to you because I ask him to,”

Hyeju was flabbergasted “Why” she asked.

You know you have to break it to her carefully.“Well did you see his last match?”

Hyeju shook her head“No, all I heard from that was screaming while I got us lunch.”

You sigh and respond, “Babe he zero to deathed his opponent after reading their first assist correctly, and he only started playing Joe the Condor today.”

Hyeju looked at you then me confused as did the rest of the group.

“You just learned Joe today,” she inquired while being struck with bewilderment. I nod which causes James to ask me a very legitimate question.

“Wait why risk that at a paid tournament?”

I shrugged before answering with, “Because as soon as was in the same bracket side as Bon I was getting third place no matter what, so why not see how far I could push my limits?”

Hyeju looked at me with disgust, “How arrogant of you to think you can just waltz in a win a tournament on whim picks,”

I laughed and responded, “Hyeju we had to give you an advanced tech crash course when you told us you wanted to participate on a whim, despite only playing occasionally with us. I don't want to hear about me doing anything competition-wise on a whim. I am always competition-ready.” this made Hyeju go quiet. Arin bless her heart sensed the tension in my heart and grabbed my hand. Her touch as always was a soothing wave cooling off the plasmidic heat that I felt. It worked until Hyeju feeling her ego hurt said

“Okay, then Daizo if you're so great how about a friendly exhibition match?” I heard Arin’s sigh and knew that either I or Hyeju was going to revive a lecture later but honestly, she already blooded the water by doubting me and further pushed me with an official challenge. So when we got to y’all place I was nearly delirious with anticipation.

I beat Hyeju 25-1. We could have stopped at 13-0 but the part of me that y'all don't like demanded I beat her more. Thankfully before I could make Hyeju cry Arin and you stopped me.

“Okay, Disaster that's enough. You have proved your supremacy and I don't think Hye can take anymore,” Your sad tone reaches me and I come out of that dark place. Arin and I go back to our shared apartment leaving you to comfort the almost in-tears and shocked Hyeju on your shared couch. You cuddle next to your girlfriend who's a little grumpy that I beat her,

“I can't believe Daizo’s so mean,” she said with an adorable pout you smile and nestle closer.

“Come on babe you went after him and he responded. Be glad we stopped it before you went 1-29,” you say

Hyeju is just revving up though, “It's just…(you shut her up with an impassioned kiss) uh babe no fair.”

You roll deeper into your make-out session with your bombshell of a girlfriend. When you break it, her wolf-like eyes are full of lust. You smile as she lifts her shirt revealing her bountiful bust. You grope her tits as the two and make out

“Oh,” she moans as an errant hand of hers wanders down to your crotch. When she finds her prize you gasp.

“Fuck Hye warn a guy,” you say but Hyeju smiles before stroking you a little bit and falling into another kiss.

“But jagiya I'm so wet for you,” Hyeju says before lining up with your ride and sliding tortuously down your rod. You groaned at her unrelenting tightness. Her folds envelop you as Hyeju moans,

Hyenu smiles as she takes you in, “God I love your massive cock. I could ride it all day,” she says with a selfish smile. She pushes your chest down as she begins to ride you roughly, her folds tearing into your cock like the rabid predator(your words not mine) she was. She looks down at her favorite prey. You. She smiles and then begins her ritual whenever she's on top.

“You love my wolfy pussy don't you Jagiya? The way my flesh craves you. The way my pussy molds itself to your cock. How I ride you till you can't help but cum in my perfect pussy. Come on baby cum for me! I need it right now.” Hyeju’s sultry sex voice always does a number on you and in combination with her pussy when she calls you her “large lion” you cum instantly as she has trained your dick to do so. You moan as cum fills her walls and Hyeju smiles, but she isn't done though. She gets up off of you and her pussy spills your load back onto your crotch. You groan getting ready to get up until Hyeju lies in front of you and begins to use her chest to get another load out of you.

“Why waste all this perfectly good cum,” she says as she wraps her tits around your cock. You scream at the pleasure emanating from your union. Hyeju howls as she continues to rub her lubricated breasts around your cock. Her sensitive tits cause her to be near her release.

“Go on make a mess of me Lionheart. Cum all over my slutty face. paint me! Come on do it. Please cum,” Hyeju yells as she eggs on your orgasm hoping to get hers from being covered in your cum. To coax the biggest load possible she wraps her tongue around your cock as she gives you her messiest tit/blowjob. She slobbers all over your cock watching you squirm and write until

“Hye Im cumming,” you moan as you erupt over her face like a volcano. Your cum flies everywhere on her: her face tits hair lips you name it it's there. Hyeju smiles before standing up and fingering herself to get herself off having gotten her cum kink satisfaction. As your cum rolls down her body and she touches herself to the mess she's made of you and herself she squirts all over you. You lap up what you can and let lay down next to you. A messy (and wet) picture-perfect scene

“You good now babe,” you ask. Hyeju nods and languidly strokes your cock, not to get you off but just because like toying with you.

“I needed that,” she says before kissing you. Her cum drenched lips are oddly pleasant.

“Fuck Hye you put your game face on,” you tease and Hyeju rolls her eyes before you give her another unexpected load.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #loona hyeju #olivia hye smut #hyeju smut #son hyeju #olivia hye #loosemble #loosemble hyeju #loosemble smut

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ellestra · 3 months

Text

Paul Muad'Dib Usul

Dune Part 2 had more changes to the story than Part 1. It's not just omitting stuff for the sake of time but also changing the roles of many prominent characters. On one hand I understand why it feels like changing the story and characters. I felt it too watching - especially with Jessica and Chani becoming so different.

But on the other I feel it makes final message clearer. There are so many people who mistake this for a hero's story. This is why the white saviour phrase is so often thrown around. I feel like this version of the ending makes it very clear that is in not what Paul becomes.

It makes it sadder too since we see him try to avoid this and just be part of his new home. But the weight of expectations of so many people leave very limited options - from the believers and Jessica to his old life and Gurney Halleck - they all push for what they want him to be so they can get their fight and their revenge. And none of them is interested in the cost. Just like Stilgar they see the opportunities to get what they want and ignore everything else (which really is so common in wars it's not surprising even 20 000 more years in the future nothing changes). So Paul is left with only two options - it's either swim with the current and keep some control over where it takes him or go against it and drown.

It is of course magnified by the other side doing all they can to stack the deck for themselves so it's either victory or annihilation. And trying to pull the rains out of the hands of forces controlling the universe is never not bloody.

Reverend Mother Mohiam admits here directly that Bene Gesserit didn't just want a Kwisatz Haderach. They wanted one they could control. Just like they planted religions to control the populaces of countless worlds. But this kind of manipulation is easy to get out of hand when infighting happens and in the end not even chosen one can chose how it ends.

Even knowing the truth doesn't stop it. Even knowing what will happen doesn't stop it. Avalanche of history only stops at the bottom and you can only hope not to be one buried by it. But you can still judge those who started it.

The parts under the cut are bit more spoilery (about spice and controlling the universe)

So I don't necessarily disagree with the changes. Like I understand why Alia the way she is in books wouldn't really work. And I certainly get why they cut Count Fenrig. But there is one thing I wish they did leave - the Space Guild confrontation. Because this is missing important part of the message - the person who rules the Empire isn't the Emperor but the one who controls spice. Paul taking the title is just a formality.

Spice has always been the clear metaphor for oil. Spice is what allows for space travel and without it world become stranded alone. People are literally addicted to it and its life prolonging properties. Who controls the Spice controls the universe. And the person who can destroy something controls it. And this means there is no stopping the jihad. No bombing Arrakis from space. No travel ban on Fremen from Spacing Guild.

This allows Paul to destroy the old balance of power. He controls it all but he only does it through fulfilling other people expectations of who he is. And that means he becomes figurehead of a holy war. Those who helped him win now awaiting their rewards in blood for all that was done to them.

#paul atreides #paul muad'dib #muad'dib #usul #lady jessica #jessica atreides #chani kynes #chani #gurney halleck #stilgar #bene gesserit #kwisatz haderach #reverend mother gaius helen mohiam #fremen #arrakis #dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune 2024

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miintsprigz · 4 months

Note

Hiii again!! I wanted to ask for Sniper, Engie, and Scout reacting to the reader doing something nice for them after they had a tough day. Thank you!!

Anon, I had been wanting the opportunity to do something like this, so bless you, and I hope that you enjoy this! I sorta zoomed through Sniper’s, I hope it’s still good aaaa

Characters: Scout, Engineer, Sniper (TF2)

Warnings: none that I can think of—I made myself very soft while working on this

GN!Reader doing something nice for the Mercs after a tough day

Scout:

You’d noticed for some time that work really seemed to be running Jeremy down more than usual. He came back to base moody, unusually quiet. It was so unlike him.

Thinking back to just a few months ago…what a difference. You remembered how enthusiastically he’d come running in, holding something behind his back…quickly revealed to be a bouquet of bright red roses just for you.

“I didn’t know what your favorite was, so I thought I’d just got wit da classic!”

You had asked a question after that though, one you were especially glad you’d asked now.

“What’s your favorite flower, babe?”

“Me? …huh. Never really thought about that.”

You watched the wheels turn a bit, and a nostalgic kind of look came over him. Jeremy was quite the sentimental guy, if you hung out with him long enough.

“I think one time I got Ma these big yellow ones…lilies? They were real pretty. Smelled nice too. Probably those.”

So one day, a while before you knew he’d be getting back, you went on the hunt. Yellow lilies were tricky to find, but eventually, you secured a whole bunch and had them nicely wrapped up for your favorite fella.

You enjoyed their fragrance as you waited for Jeremy to get back…they truly were beautiful. You could see why he liked them.

Finally, the door swung open, and you quickly hid the bouquet behind your back, just as he had.

He looked exhausted…of course, his face lit up as soon as he saw you. “Ah, finally home. How ya doin’, doll? Sight for sore eyes, as always.”

“I’m good. I got a little surprise for you.”

His brows arched, curious, and you could see that infectious smile that seemed so rare these days beginning to appear again. “Oh yeah?”

“Well okay, might not be too surprising, but…” You sheepishly grinned as you held out his gift. “…I found some.”

Scout’s mouth dropped open just a bit before he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, delighted. “Aw, baby…they’re beautiful!”

You motioned for him to take them, and he did, admiring them with a softness to his gaze. Only seconds later, as he looked up at you, that trademark, somewhat mischievous grin came to his face.

You chuckled. Your boy was back. “Whatcha thinkin’ there?”

“C’mere, you~” He pulled you in and kissed you before you could even prepare.

His free hand lightly brushed through your hair as he pulled back, seeming to be at a genuine loss for words. “You are so sweet, ya know that? I love you.”

Giggling, you pecked his lips once more. “I love you too.”

___

Engineer:

Poor Dell had really been pushed to his limit lately. It felt like you hardly saw him anymore. He was always working on something. The demand kept on coming.

Lately, you had to get up early to get any decent quality time with him before he went to work. When he got home, he always just wanted to go right to sleep, and you certainly couldn’t blame him.

He felt bad, and told you as much, but you knew it wasn’t his fault. “Get your rest, honey. I know you’re tired.”

Even in the morning, he was always up before you were, and had breakfast ready to go. You talked as you ate.

So, after Engie had come back in especially rough shape the night before, with his first day off in months the following day, you decided to surprise him.

You were not, by any means, an early riser. But you had a feeling that Dell wouldn’t sleep in long, even on his day off. You’d even gone to sleep a bit early the night before.

Ever the keen-eyed one, Engie had questioned that. “Goin’ out already, lil’ nightingale?”

“Yeah, I’m sleepy. Besides, we got all day tomorrow, right?”

“Yessiree.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you got everything together. It was a whole lot of work, mixing up batter, making sure everything was cooked just right, and of course making the presentation easy on the eyes. But it would all be worth it.

Finally, you were all set. You scurried to his room, knocking to see if he was up.

“Almost ready, darlin’! I’m a little late, sorry ‘bout that…”

“Don’t worry about it, Engie, take your time…” Last thing your cowboy needed was to be rushed around on his day off.

Opening the door, he beamed at you. “Well, look at you! All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed already, huh? I got a feelin’ we’re gonna have a grand day, you ‘n’ me.”

“Oh, just you wait…I’ve got something for ya, baby. C’mon…”

“Whoa, okay—I had a feelin’ you were up to somethin’ last night, ya lil’ schemer…”

You just laughed, excitedly pulling Dell along by the hand.

“Okay, right in here.”

The still sleepy eyes that were normally hidden behind his goggles blinked quick in genuine astonishment as he took it in.

“Well…good word, that’s like the cover of a magazine there, darlin’! You do this all by yer lonesome?”

“Mhm! I got up early in the hopes that I’d beat you to it—can’t have you working hard on your day off! Just hope it tastes good…”

“It will, baby, I’m sure of it…” He trailed off a bit, and as you glanced over, you couldn’t get a grasp on what exactly was going through his head. Seemed happy at least. Maybe you were used to seeing only half of his face. But then he rubbed at his eyes just a bit…

“Oh, baby…you okay?”

“Yeah…just fine, darlin’, sorry, circuits are still a lil’ fried…” He sniffled, and without much thought you wrapped your arm around him, stroking his shoulder.

“Been real tough goin’ lately, real tough…wasn’t feelin’ like myself no more. And ya did all this just for me…for us…”

He leaned his head to the side so it rested softly against yours, taking a deep breath. “Thank you, (Y/N). You are a wonder. I adore you, you know that?”

You chuckled, pulling him close. “Thank you, Dell. I adore you too.”

You felt him jolt a little, but he made sure to kiss you quick before he moved at all. “Please tell me you’re havin’ some a’ this—”

“Yeah! Wanted to make breakfast for you, but eat it with you too.”

“Well, we better not let it get cold now, after ya worked so hard! C’mon, baby…”

You laughed as you were now the one being pulled along, with Engie still praising your hard work and delicious cooking every step of the way.

_____

Sniper:

Lately, Mick hadn’t been telling you what was going on at work…which was weird. Normally, he really liked his job, and told you all about it. Lately though, he’d answered “how was work?” with the vaguest responses.

Sniper wasn’t the type of guy to word vomit about what was bothering him, but that cued you in pretty well.

You wanted to do something to help him, something to lift his spirits again. It took some time, but eventually, you hatched a plan.

One day, instead of waiting back at his camper, you made your way over to where the mercs normally exited the fort.

You waved to the rest as they ran past, more than a few asking what you were doing here. They could figure it was something to do with your boyfriend.

Mick was the last to leave…which was a bit weird. Must have really been working hard.

“Hey, Snipes!” Immediately, his head turned at the sound of your voice, taking a surprised step backwards before he quickly ran and skidded to a stop in front of you.

“(Y/N)? …whatcha doin’ all the way out here, darlin’? Everything alright?”

He looked…confused, but delighted.

“Yeah! I had an idea the other day…and I wanted to meet up with you a little bit earlier so I had more time for it. Let’s go back to the camper so you can change, then I’ll show ya what I mean.”

His eyes narrowed, trying not to smile at this. “Hm…alright. Keep ya secrets for now…”

It was only a moment before his fingers intertwined with yours as you started the short walk back. He tended to be a bit flighty when it came to physical contact, but you understood that.

Once Sniper was done getting ready, you grabbed the basket you’d kept hidden away. “All set?”

“Yep…ya want me blindfolded for this or somethin’?”

“Nah, I don’t want you to trip. Just follow me.”

You followed the path you’d drawn out the other day, although you’d come out here before you’d left the camper to lay out the blanket and get everything all comfortable.

Just as you’d planned, you got to the spot just in time to see the sun go down, and the stars had just started to appear.

A spot near a river, where the only sounds were from the wind and water, with the occasional birdsong and cricket chirp.

You’d had some help on this—Pyro, of all people, providing you with the necessary equipment and tinder for a little campfire. They’d been surprisingly helpful, even though you couldn’t understand them at all.

“I thought it might be nice to enjoy the nice weather and some dinner…oh, and uh, s’mores, if you want. I brought stuff for that.”

The normally more reserved and serious Sniper stood there for a moment, looking everything over. Slowly, this very peaceful smile came to his face.

You were used to him being quiet, but you just had to know what he made of all this.

“I know it’s sorta cheesy, but I hope—whoa!!”

Mick suddenly pulled you in close, holding you tight. You quickly returned the gesture, feeling the side of his face sort of brush against the top of your head.

“…I don’t got much words for this. Besides thank you. Ya have any idea how much I wanted to do somethin like this with ya, roo?”

You laughed a bit, closing your eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t have exactly guessed this, but…I had a feeling you’d been having a tough couple days.”

“You were right.” It took a good while before he pulled back, and even then, his hand still clasped yours. “I was.”

The firelight illuminated his eyes, and although the mellow tone of voice stayed the same, you could see it in his face just how moved he was.

“But that doesn’t even matter to me now. Cuz right now…it’s just you, me, and the stars, baby…c’mon.”

Going slightly rosy—you hoped he couldn’t see in the shadows that the dim light casted—you followed him, and the two of you sat down to enjoy your s’mores and each other’s company.

By the end of the night, both of you laid back on the blanket, full, warm, and happy, curled up together as you watched the stars glimmer above.

You felt a slight tap against your shoulder. “Mm? What’s up, Mick?”

He glanced to the side, once again gaining that shyness that tended to creep up on him. “…ya know how much I love ya?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, moving over a bit to kiss him briefly, eyes fluttering closed.

You pulled back, teasing, “Does that answer your question?”

He looked back at you, starry-eyed and red-faced, starting to laugh along with you.

“Hehe, yeah…yeah it does.”

“But seriously, I love you too—”

#tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 #engineer x reader #tf2 engineer #engineer tf2 #engie x reader #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 scout x reader #scout x reader #sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper #sniper x reader #mint writes

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albertonykus · 5 months

Text

I have many feelings about Hilda, but foremost is that it's so good. How does a show manage to be this charming?! I don't rewatch series often, but I suspect I'll be returning to this one again. Also, natural history enthusiasts who like anglerfish and closed-mouth vocalization will enjoy the final season.

Stray thoughts about Season 3 below the break. Contains spoilers!

I love how the changes to the opening in each season reflect Hilda's evolving relationship with Johanna (and this time, with the trolls as well).

This is a big mood.

The Wood Man is still great.

I liked Eugene's anglerfish lure, very symbolic.

Johanna hanging out with Alfur and Tontu is definitely one of the most underrated dynamics in the series. (...I think. I don't browse Hilda fandom content much.)

David can be brutal. (He had some really good lines this season in general.)

Hilda being traumatized by bells from her time as a troll was not unexpected, but oof.

This was such an amazing creature concept. Having it speak entirely through vocal sacs and not its mouth was an inspired choice.

I definitely chuckled at this.

That was one jam-packed finale. There were probably at least two or three moments where I thought the story was about to wind down, and then they'd throw another wrench into things. Despite that, I felt they managed to keep the narrative remarkably well paced.

I think it was a really brilliant move that after all the mystery surrounding Hilda's dad, Johanna turned out to be the one with an extraordinary heritage, especially considering that most viewers probably would have pegged her as the most "normal" major character.

I was wondering how they'd follow up with Victoria Van Gale, so I wasn't surprised to see her return. Didn't quite expect her to make the save in the end though.

I did predict Twig being critical to saving Hilda and Johanna (especially remembering how the trailer showed him summoning the bridge to the deerfoxes' realm), but it made for a great scene regardless. Also, credit to Frida for pushing herself to the limit while trying to bring Hilda back.

I loved the character cameos in the epilogue. I might have been a little disappointed by the Thunderbird not getting a plot-relevant role, but he did get an entire montage for his return and even a couple of lines, so I can't complain too much. Besides, it's more than what Kaisa got.

#Hilda #Hilda spoilers #Hilda the Series #Hilda Season 3

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c4tgvtz · 2 years

Note

How do you think the dorm heads [sorry, idk your character limit is] would react when it came time to send you to your own world? They can be dating or secretly pinning after you, whichever you pick. And thank you for reading =3

🕸 [I shall be web anon, love your writing]

➦Oh oh oh!! This'll be a fun one!! And thank you web anon!! I shall remember you >:))

I planned to write this one properly but it ended up too much for me, so you get a sorta hc list because fucking. Like 7 one shots in the one post is too much//

➳How the housewardens would react to MC going back to their world after pining for months

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

CW: None!

Characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus

Genre: Mild angst???

Note: Mmm this one’s a little sad

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

➳ 𝙍𝙄𝘿𝘿𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙎

You were… going home?

Riddle would look at you, confused when you first told him. As far as he was concerned, Night Raven College was your home now… but it seemed you didn’t feel the same.

When you tell him, you would be able to see his whole body grow tense, and his eyebrows furrow slightly. He’d look away, trying to process what was just said to him. After taking a breath, he’d look back and put on a smile. “That’s wonderful (MC), I’m glad you’ve finally found a way to return home.”

You could tell that something was off though. Riddle had been… watching you for some time, and though you probably wouldn’t notice, he had found himself falling for you, and those feelings were starting to get more and more intense… he planned to finally ask you out at the weekend but… now?…

You were going to a whole different world, quite literally a universe where riddle didn’t exist, and that terrified the housewarden! But it pushed his courage back down. He couldn’t ask you out now.

The entire time he’s with you he’d be trying to draw out conversation, in a pitiful attempt to spend more time by your side. He’d make you tea, he’d offer to go out for the day to hang out for one last time but… well you were leaving tomorrow. And there was no time for frolicking about in the rose maze or just having a last wander around the campus.

You would be gone.

The emptiness that the thought gave riddle would be one that he was saddled with for likely the rest of his life… at least he’d never forget you…

He’d make sure to personally accompany you to the mirror that led you home, and right before you go through, he’d pull you close in his arms in a desperate, tight hug. All he can muster up to say is: “I’ll miss you (MC)… please… never forget us… never forget me….”

And like that… you were gone.

➳ 𝙇𝙀𝙊𝙉𝘼 𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙍

Tch… good riddance.

When you tell Leona, he’d just spend a moment looking at you. He looks judgemental, as if finding you weird for leaving or something, but that’s just kinda his resting face.

Instead, he’s actually just trying to process what the fuck you just said to him. What, you were going back to ramshackle? Nah, you wouldn’t be this excited. So did you mean, back to where you came from… before NRC? The more he thought about it, the more he remembered. Oh yeah. That’s right…. You’re from a different world. Is that where you were going?

At first Leona didn’t really have much of a reaction, other than a shrug, but the more you started to talk about it, and the more excited you seemed… his tail started to flick behind him, a hint of a snarl pulled at his upper lip ever so slightly, and his little ears bent back.

It was a feeling he had felt before, yet when he felt it with you it made his blood boil. Jealousy. Jealousy for anyone who would try and take you from him in this other world.

…okay yeah. He had sort of developed a bit of a thing for you, it was no big deal. Or at least, it wasn’t until now. His heart genuinely ached in a way that he had never felt before, and for the first time, Leona Kingschollar felt… vulnerable but of course he couldn’t show that, so he simply shrugged it off.

“It’ll be good to see the back of ya.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, though it… felt wrong to say. But he couldn’t muster up the confidence for any sort of apology or retraction of his statement. And seeing the way your face fell a little made him want to tear you apart for taking what he said seriously. But there was no telling with Leona.

He made no attempt to force you to stay, but… in his mind, it was all he could think about. He hated sappy romance and all that bullshit, but there was a part of him that didn’t want you to be his partner, but his mate. And that’s how he knew that he liked you. It wasn’t superficial, it was instinctual and raw…

…he actually wanted you.

There would be a ceremony held for you leaving, and the entire time you’d be able to see and feel those harsh green eyes staring at you from the back of the crowd. It would make you uneasy the whole time, but you’d get on with it anyway.

When you get through, you’d realise that your bag felt heavier than it did when you left, and in it, when you open it, you’d find a glass bottle of sand with a letter attached.

It was from Leona…

The letter would talk about how he couldn’t bring himself to actually say goodbye and that he’ll miss you….. Ruggie wrote it for him after listening to him rant…

At least he does actually care…

➳ 𝘼𝙕𝙐𝙇 𝘼𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙉𝙂𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙏𝙊

You… you can’t leave!

Upon hearing the news, Azul would visibly panic, and immediately start trying to convince you out of it before… realising that his own emotions were slipping through. He’d correct himself, fixing his jacket and clearing his throat. “…Apologies.” Hed hum solemnly. “I wish you the best.” His voice was weirdly empty.

It would be easy to tell that he’s upset. When Azul’s in love, he has very little control over what his mind does, and that’s why he gets so distressed by it, it throws a massive wrench in the gears of his mind and messes with everything, but… he couldn’t just stop it.

Standing with you, alone in the Octavinelle lounge, you’d see him look away as he tries to discern his feelings, figuring out what he should show and what he shouldn’t, but it was too late. You had already seen how he freaked out at just the notion of you leaving, so you put your hand on his shoulder as an attempt to comfort him, and at first he flinches, not expecting the contact, but quickly relaxes and just looks at you.

There’s no way he could tell you. Not now. Not ever… it was his secret and it’ll remain that way. Or at least, he thought so. He seemed to have absolutely no idea that it was incredibly obvious he was head over heels for you. Everyone could see it. You could see it. But no one had the heart to tell Azul that his massive crush on the prefect was painfully clear.

Feeling bad for him, you’d take up his offer to spend the day with him, in which he tries his best to “subtly” convince you to stay. Usually, Azul was a master of persuasion, and just being suave in general. But now that desperation was starting to seep into the housewarden’s actions, he didn’t seem as good at it as he should be. Even he was noticing…

In spending the day with him, he’d give you a proper tour of Octavinelle (as if you don’t already know it inside out), play a few games of chess, and have a meal together at the lounge before the night began to roll in. He was running out of time to convince you, but was also… slowly coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t see you again. It stung, yeah… but things change, and after his overblot, he was starting to accept that more.

His goodbye would be where he breaks, hugging you to see you off, but you’d find that he wouldn’t let go, and after just a moment… he began to cry. “Please… I need to… I…” his words would barely be choked out behind his sobs, before he peels himself back and with his whole body trembling, he’d confess. “I need to tell you… that.. t-that… I… I love you, (MC)…”

Putting a hand up to cup his cheek, you smile, and he looks back at you, terrified, so scared that you’ll make fun of him or berate him for feeling such a way, but rather, you lean in and gently kiss him on the forehead. He stops crying and just. Stares at you as you tell him you love him too, and then leave… for the last time…

His love was returned, yet his lover would never return themselves… so that was it huh?…

➳ 𝙆𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙈 𝘼𝙇-𝘼𝙎𝙄𝙈

T-take me with you!!

Out of everyone, Kalim would be the most emotionally distraught of them all. When you first tell him, he’d gasp and take your hands in his own, practically jumping off the ground. “You’re going home!?” He would sound more excited than you actually were to return. “That’s great (MC)!! You’ve been trying for so long I’m so glad you can finally see all your family and friends again!” For most people, talk like that would appear insincere or sarcastic, but Kalim was just very vocal with his thoughts.

He’d spend the day with you, asking about what your home was like and learning about you with a bright smile the whole time. Though the whole time, something would feel… off, as if he was missing something, but you had explained that you were returning to your own world, so… maybe he was just happy for you?

“I can’t wait to come with you some time!! You need to come back and visit!” He’d chirp while eating lunch with you. And that’s when it hit you. He didn’t realise it was a one-way, one-off trip… it would take a lot to tell him, but after a moment of silence, you’d pipe up and manage to say.

You’d watch as his face slowly falls as you speak, to confusion. “What?” It sounded so genuine, like he didn’t understand why you couldn’t return. “But… is… is it not like a mirror?… like all the other portals?…” his loud, piercing voice began to grow quiet as his expression melted from confusion to sadness. You shake your head.

He seriously takes a moment after that, and it seems like this is the most he’d ever thought about anything between the whole duration of your stay here. And the entire time he was just silent. It even attracted a few gazes from others in the cafeteria.

“So I… won’t see you again?” His voice was empty and shaky, and it seemed like a light had left his eyes as he looked back up to you, his food now completely forgotten. You shake your head again, and as if that were a cue, Kalim’s eyes began to tear up and his bottom lip quivered.

“You… can’t go…” Usually, when Kalim cried, it was loud and snotty and a nightmare to deal with… but this? This was different, his voice was quiet, a wavering whisper, and his body seemed to shake with fear. He put a hand out on the table, palm facing up. Understanding, you’d put your hand in his and try to give a reassuring smile, but he’d just grab your hand a shakily lower his head.

Every movement looked like it was laboured, as he slowly sat up and raised your hand to his face gingerly, and kissed the back of your hand. He’d look into your eyes, desperation in his own. “Please… I want to go with you… but I can’t leave my own family and friends…” and you’d nod, understanding the predicament. You didn’t particularly want to go either, with how close you had gotten with everyone here.

When the next day rolled around and you had to finally say goodbye, kalim would run up to you, crying far harder than he had been before, and you’d just hold him and rest your head on his shoulder as he cries and cries. When he eventually does calm down, you let go and turn to leave, but he says one more thing before you do:

“Hey! (MC)! Tell people in your world about us! A-and I love you!”

➳ 𝙑𝙄𝙇 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙀𝙉𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙏

Oh… I had forgotten about that…

Vil would seem… thoughtful, about the whole situation when you tell him. At first it would seem like he doesn’t believe you at all, but then you’d explain exactly how Crowley managed to find you a way home and he’d feel his heart sink.

So he was loosing you?… he’d just stare off into the distance for a minute before sighing and smiling. “That’s wonderful… though it’s a shame that twisted wonderland will be loosing such a beauty…” he’d raise his hand to brush across your cheek, and though that smile would remain on his face, the pain behind his lilac eyes would be easy to spot.

He’d leave you for the day to get your things ready, though while you’re gone, things would be starting to go to shit in Pomefiore.

Vil would end up stressed and upset, causing him to make rash decisions and lash out at his dorm members, leading Rook to take over in running the dorm while a few of the other juniors helped to calm the housewarden down. After about an hour of that chaos, Vil decided that— if he’s never going to see you again, you’d absolutely need something to remember him by.

Immediately, he’d start to try to put together a gift, a way of showing his love at the last minute and hoping that it would last. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it would make you regret leaving, and make everything harder for you, but it was a thought that he shook off. He couldn’t bring himself to dwell on that too much.

Going through his stuff, he’d manage to find a few things he wanted to give you: a beautiful ornate necklace, one with golden charms going down it and a small fake vial of purple liquid as the main charm, a full bottle of his favourite perfume, and a book. It was a book he had memorised inside an out, though it was very dear to him. It was a book of poison recipes.

His only hope was that all of this was enough of a goodbye for you… he put it all in a box, wrapping it neatly and sticking a red bow on the top corner. It looked beautiful, as was customary for a gift from Vil Shoenheit.

He’d spend a while wondering to himself if he should just give it to you and wish you well, or also tell you his feelings. After deliberating that for a while, he decided on a compromise. A love letter would do nicely… So with that in mind, he spent the rest of the night writing out his feelings to you the best he could.

Truth be told, he had always been intrigued by you, but it was only now that you were leaving did he realise just how much he… liked you. Like didn’t quite cut it… no he loved you… and that scared him honestly, which was why he had never even really processed that he did until now, when you were slipping from his reach. He knew there was no way to convince you to stay or to go with you… so this would be his last grand gesture to you.

The day had came. It was pretty late now, and you had spent the whole day saying goodbye to everyone, but Vil was last, and instead of finding him, it was him that came to you, with a beautifully wrapped box in his hands, and a small envelope on top. “Don’t open it all until you’re home safe.” He’d sigh, an odd, unfamiliar affection in his voice. “This is the last time I’ll get to see you…” he sounded regretful as he spoke, leaning in to plant a kiss against your cheek. “But I promise you, it won’t be the last I think of you.”

“I just know you’ll make your world far more beautiful when you’re back…”

➳ 𝙄𝘿𝙄𝘼 𝙎𝙃𝙍𝙊𝙐𝘿

If you’re looking for a reaction, you’re not getting one…

“Y-you really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

The first words Idia said after you told him you were leaving were… jarring. You look at him, confused and a little hurt, but he seems more defensive than anything else. “Look I know you’re j-just trying to embarrass me! Or get me to act all sappy towards you! It’s not happening.” He’d cross his arms and turn away.

Hurt, that one of your good friends wouldn’t believe you on some of the biggest news of your life, you’d leave. But Idia wasn’t trying to be mean, or defensive… he just didn’t want to believe it.

After being with you for so long he had quickly grown to love you. You were the only person other than other that was able to put up with him. You were sweet and kind and pretty and the perfect partner for him… but he didn’t deserve you, you were far too good for him in his mind.

Looking in the mirror, he’d sigh. But that’s when news would get to him… other people were talking about you going home… what? Idia couldn’t believe it. It was real?… you weren’t lying?… now he felt even worse. His stomach turned and his heart dropped straight down into it, and all he could do was just sit on his bed and stare at the wall.

Is this what everything had came to? He had tried to make the right choices! He was sure that he was on the path to the good ending! All the signs were there, and it even seemed like you were starting to show interest in him!…

…no you weren’t. He was being delusional. At least that’s what he told himself. Why would someone like you ever fall for him? He was a complete shut in, an asshole, ignorant, and now? Now he had personally hurt you. What was he worth anyway.

Lying on his bed, he pulled his legs up to his chest, tears pricking his eyes and the ends of his hair flicking red. Of course this wasn’t the good ending, he was a total screw up. This was the worst ending possible, it was so bad that… he had forgotten it was one he could get… you were leaving forever… game over I guess…

The rest of his day would be spent alone, crying in his bed. He’d sent Ortho away to go… do whatever… as long as he wasn’t near him to see his spiral, because things only got worse from there. He couldn’t even bring himself to eat anything for dinner.

Ortho, though he was concerned, wanted to respect Idia’s wishes, so he stayed out of their room until it was late at night and Idia was asleep. It was a good thing he had no idea that he had cried so hard he had sort of just… passed out…

You were standing at the portal. The next day had came, but Idia hadn’t. You wanted to go and say goodbye to him, but time was running out and the portal would close if you weren’t through fast enough. So… no goodbye…

Idia still hadn’t left his room. He didn’t plan to. What’s the point in forming bonds if they always break…

➳ 𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙀𝙐𝙎 𝘿𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙄𝘼

Leaving?… so soon?

To Malleus, your departure from the school would come as quite the surprise. Though he himself helped Headmage Crowley to find you a way home, he never expected it to be so soon. It had only been about a year, and in the grand scheme of Malleus’s lifetime? That was nothing. To him, it felt like you had only been here a few days.

You were an odd little child of man. He had never really known where you had came from, nor had anyone else, but what he did know was that he didn’t want you to return. He wanted to study you more, and keep you close. He had grown possessive, though you were just friends.

He had strong feelings towards you, which was why he looked so hurt when you told him you were leaving. He wasn’t the only one upset, but it felt like it to him. He tried to brush it off, after all, you were just some human that would barely live a fraction of his lifespan… yet… it was hard to think of you that way.

He’d put his hand on your shoulder and look at you with a rather harsh expression across his sharp features. “I don’t want you to go.” He’d state plainly, making you shift under his gaze and step back. You’d tell him that you’d like to stay, but you have a life away from here that you’d like to get back to. His expression would stay the same.

Being a dragon in love was complicated. Especially if the person you were in love with wasn’t also a dragon or fae of any kind. If that was the case, they saw you as part of a hoard, something beautiful and precious that only belonged to them, and that they must protect with their life.

You were that person to Malleus.

After a decently confusing and… annoying conversation about how you had to return home, Malleus let up and retuned go Diasomnia to let you do your weird human things. He didn’t really know what you were up to.

As he often did whenever Malleus had any grievances, Lilia seemed to show up out of the blue to talk to the housewarden. He asked him what had happened and he relayed the conversation you had had with him. He seemed to understand what he was going through, and gave him the best advice he could:

“Malleus, many people who you care about are going to walk through your life, it’s your job to make the most of their presence while you can, spend as much time as you can with them before they go. I can promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

So he took that to heart, and at the crack of morning the next day, Malleus was at the door of ramshackle, looking for you.

When you answer he insisted that you spend the day with him before you had to leave, and that you did. He helped to pack up the last of your things and mostly followed you around for the rest of the day until it came to your departure.

“Farewell, (MC). May we meet again in another walk of life… my love…”

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joons · 3 months

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This may be a prickly subject, and I'm sorry if so. But I'm trying to learn more about Elvis, and every time I bring him up to people I know, they try to tell me he was this terrible person, and point me toward Priscilla's book, the movie made on it, and the discourse. Idk if you've talked about it on here (I tried searching your blog but couldn't find anything on it). If you're willing, I'd love to hear your take on it so I can see a more nuanced view.

The film Priscilla was greenlit roughly a month after Priscilla herself was informed that she was close to becoming financially insolvent in 2022. With a business partner, Brigitte Kruse, who allegedly helped broker the film deal, she established a limited liability company called Priscilla Presley Partners that was supposed to use her image and likeness to create several lines of merchandise to coincide with the film's release. That business partner is now suing Priscilla because she did not have the rights to her image or likeness, or any ability to use the Presley name, because she had already sold all of those rights and was no longer considered in good standing with Graceland or Elvis Presley Enterprises. The entire business deal, then, according to the lawsuit, was built on her misrepresentation of how much her image was worth.

The deal between the two of them fell apart after Riley Keough, Lisa Marie's daughter and Priscilla's granddaughter, settled with Priscilla to give her a lump sum of $1 million from Lisa Marie's estate and yearly amounts of $100,000. Priscilla sued very shortly after Lisa Marie's death because she thought Lisa Marie's signature on a will had been forged because Priscilla was not included in it. All of the assets were supposed to go directly to Lisa Marie's son, Benjamin Keough, who died in 2020, and her three daughters, two of whom are still teenagers. Now, part of those assets have been claimed by Priscilla and her other son, Navarone, who has no connection to the Presley family and has stated he is glad Lisa died.

Four months before Lisa's death, Lisa wrote to Sofia Coppola and made it clear she had strong concerns about the Priscilla film and was suspicious of the intentions behind it:

"As his daughter, I don’t read this and see any of my father in this character. I don’t read this and see my mother’s perspective of my father. ... I will be forced to be in a position where I will have to openly say how I feel about the film and go against you, my mother and this film publicly."

Lisa was enormously grateful for efforts put into 2022's Elvis to find her father's soul and to restore his dignity in a world that often turns him and his family into a joke:

"You can feel and witness Baz’s pure love, care, and respect for my father throughout this beautiful film, and it is finally something that myself and my children and their children can be proud of forever."

It is such a strong and powerful statement, to see how much Lisa valued family, not just her father but her own children and their legacy, and how willing she was to speak up no matter what was going on in her personal life to say what was right. On this and many other things, Lisa and Priscilla's values have rarely been in alignment. A friend and EPE business associate, Joel Weinshanker, said of her, "Lisa couldn't be bought, she couldn't be pushed. If she felt that something wasn't in Elvis' best interest, it was never about money. And she really is the only Presley that you could say that about."

Priscilla, though, has adjusted her stories about her time with Elvis almost every time she discusses it. For a quick example, she said in her book, which was released in 1985, that Elvis insisted she do her hair and makeup a certain way, that he had control over her look and would get upset if she didn't dress how he wanted. But in an interview with Ladies' Home Journal in 1973, she said that she made a deliberate choice to attend makeup school so that she could learn how to style herself, and that it was her idea to wear big, black hair and big, black eyeliner. She said she was embarrassed for going overboard. She said, "I wish that Elvis had said something, but he must have liked it because he never commented." This lines up with recollections from Patti Parry, a platonic friend of Elvis' and a hairstylist, who said Priscilla always wanted Patti to do her hair in a "big boombah," but that Priscilla would then get upset when Elvis didn't notice or didn't like it.

These changes are impossible not to notice if you follow her for any length of time. At the film premiere, she said it felt just like watching her life and said she was consulted on everything, since she was an executive producer. After the film came out, she said she couldn't understand why Coppola had changed so much about the story and misrepresented events. In the '70s, she said she and Elvis lived almost totally separate lives, that she came and went as she pleased, and that she loved this freedom. Later, she said she felt completely stifled and trapped and never left the house, even though she had friends she went out with all the time. In 2019, she tweeted a forceful denial about a National Enquirer story: "This is the Enquirer folks... please don't believe everything you read. ... Never planned on being buried next to Elvis. What will they come up with next?" But part of her settlement demands in her lawsuit against Riley in 2023 asked "to be buried next to Elvis." This year, she said in two separate interviews that Lisa was with her when Elvis died and that Priscilla had to break the news to her, despite the fact that Lisa was at Graceland when it happened. She has said she gave Elvis the idea to wear belts on his jumpsuits, to have a lightning bolt as his logo, to sing "An American Trilogy," though none of that is true. She retells the story about forcing Elvis to burn all of his spiritual books to prove he loved her as an almost funny anecdote about debrainwashing him, while Elvis later said it was the worst thing he ever agreed to, a desperate attempt to make her happy by giving up the things he valued the most. (For the record, this is my opinion about their relationship on both sides: thinking they could change themselves and each other to make it work. It never did.)

Every secondhand Elvis account has to be treated lightly and only valued for its consistency with known facts and other witnesses. I try to give enormous benefit of the doubt to anyone in the Elvis world because they often only have partial knowledge of what Elvis may have been thinking at any given time, and there are numerous examples of people who were taken advantage of by unscrupulous journalists who changed the story they wanted to tell. But Priscilla's stories sometimes are not even consistent with her own statements, which makes them very poor options indeed to base anything on. However careful we are about noting potential biases and inaccuracies in other memoirs, we have to be triply, quadruply careful with anything in which Priscilla involves herself because she has a vested interest in generating discourse today in order to make money. Unfortunately, Priscilla has a habit of stifling other accounts or making sensationalized statements each time there is a possibility that she will lose some of the cachet that comes with being an Elvis Source—after Elvis' death, when she believed she was going to inherit his airplane and disinvited everyone that Vernon said could fly in it to his funeral; when she sued the parents of one of Elvis' ex-girlfriends after he died because he had allowed them to live rent-free in a house he bought for them; when she claimed that Elvis wanted to reunite with her before his death, despite the fact that he was engaged to someone else and told many people he couldn't see a reunion ever happening with her; before Vernon's death, when she convinced him to make her an executor of the Presley estate until Lisa came of age; after Lisa came of age, when she convinced Lisa to let her stay on as partner; when Lisa accused Priscilla of misspending Lisa's money, during which time anonymous sources cropped up to say Lisa was in debt and drug-addled; when Priscilla was removed from her position as an EPE spokesperson but kept collecting $900,000 a year from the company; when Lisa died, and Priscilla sued once she learned she wasn't in the will; when Priscilla was no longer associated with EPE and decided to do another adaptation of a book that she has since recanted parts of and has contradicted before and after its release.

When Priscilla thinks there is a threat to her image and position, she does new interviews and projects to muddy the waters and stir public interest, whether it is true or false, positive or negative, laudatory or defamatory. She gets corrected by Elvis' surviving family members, girlfriends, friends, and fans, but these stories do not get the same reach no matter how much they are backed by contemporaneous documents and witnesses, or how many resources there are to educate the public on how Elvis' and Priscilla's attitudes about marriage and relationships changed—along with the rest of society—between 1960 and 1970.

I think almost any single-source project is not going to advance our understanding of Elvis in any way because no one individual can speak for him, and we are kind of obligated to include all the context we can in order to appreciate his character, his successes and failures, flaws and virtues—and to treat both himself and those around him as fully three-dimensional people who have their own blind spots. Priscilla is far too aware of her own image, and far too willing to change it to suit the audience, to be particularly valuable here.

She is next scheduled to appear at the Lexington (Kentucky) Comic & Toy Con.

#please know that for each of these stories i have tried to see things from her perspective #and then something happens again #and again and again #so i have simply stopped trying and accepted that i don't like her or find her credible as far as these things go #i don't imagine i should be privy to all their family drama so of course some of this may change over time #but there are far far far better sources for learning about elvis!#an easy gateway would be ashley's adventures and elvis fans matter on youtube!#ashley does a lot of fun documentation of graceland and efm is the family channel of billy and jo smith #they are elvis' cousin and his wife who were with elvis a lot and they have good human stories #same caveat goes for them: they might not know everything #but i just like the format better than books

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purplelupins · 6 days

Text

Lamb

|Midnight Mass|

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

Father Paul Hill/John Pruitt x fem!reader

Word count: 12k

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

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

Notes:

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It took your last bit of energy to tell Father John to leave you alone…that it was his fault. Your vision was fading fast; you had lost enough blood that you were dizzy, but your fear and exhaustion had your brain forcing your body to shut down out of self preservation. As darkness gripped you, you heard the Father shift away from the small door and then your head thumped with his heavy footsteps as he walked away.

Maybe he finally listened to you.

Maybe he would actually leave you there to slip into a comatose state and let you die just to hide his sins.

Your eyes dropped shut as you listened to muffled voices. Angry voices. You smiled a dazed smile, and the last thing you could understand was something about limits. You didn’t care what he said…not then. All you felt was dizzy darkness that was making you float.

It was so calm you didn’t want to give in to that nagging feeling of uneasiness. But that nasty emotion was battered away with a serene humming all around you.

You felt like you were a baby again…you wondered if your body was making you remember being cradled by your father. Was this death? Reliving your entire life in mere minutes before your soul left your body. As you felt yourself being held gently, you relaxed even more when the serene sound of low humming lulled you back into that darkness until you were asleep again.

That was all there was until your senses began to return to you one by one. You were somewhere soft and warm. It smelled familiar but not familial. You ached…and your tongue felt heavy. Breathing felt as if your body was operating manually; difficult and jaded.

Your eyes cracked open, and you slowly took in your surroundings as your consciousness sharpened. It had been a few times now that you had awoken in that bedroom, and each time it became more and more unwelcome. You pushed yourself to sit up and winced when you tried to inspect yourself; your neck and shoulder and jaw hurt something terrible. All at once, you were bombarded with memories of the bite. The panic you had felt in that moment as that man’s teeth had sunk into you returned as you went ridged in the bed. Did you die? Had you been turned?

Your eyes flicked around the room anxiously to ensure you were alone. It all felt akin to waking up as a child from a horrible nightmare, and even though you knew you were safe in bed, you anticipated monsters and ghouls to crawl out to capture you. But after a few moments of staring at every shadow and and corner, you decided that you were indeed alone.

You pushed yourself out of the bed, and timidly padded over to the small table by the window where you saw a pair of scissors among discarded gauze. At one time you might have thought things through a little more, but you were on your last nerve, in pain, and cornered, and you were beyond thinking. You crossed the small room to the cracked door, and pushed it open the rest of the way as quietly as you could.

You saw the back of Father Pruitt’s black halo of hair where he sat on the small couch.

He greeted you- that low timbre of his voice resonating inside your ears far more comfortably than it should have. Without another thought, you threw the scissors straight at him. It missed the back of his head, but you saw the stripe of red that was left on his ear after it ripped through his lobe.

John barely flinched. Pain had become something he was used to, and feeling your wrath was something he had to do.

“I apologize for the…” He said as he turned to you and stood, “The suddenness of everything. I hope it didn’t startle you too much.” John gestured to you.

Your mouth opened with some prepared reply, but then when he looked at you, you snapped your mouth shut. Your brow pinched in confusion, and you looked down at yourself. There was nothing that stood out to you, but then you noticed the change in your attire. You didn’t wear pants and a t-shirt to bed typically. And you particularly remembered being disappointed about how your nightie had been soiled by the blood.

And you were clean.

Oh…

Oh god.

Your heart began to thud in your chest.

Why were you clean why were you changed why-

As you came to each realization, you returned your gaze to the Father, and he saw every ounce of shock and contempt there, “You- what did-“ you started, trying to find the right thing to portray your feeling of violation, “You- you took off…You washed me? You washed me.”

John shuffled a step and reached his hand out slightly to you, “I’m sorry…this thing is, you were quite a mess after your attack and you needed the rest…your clothes were soaked in blood and I just-“ he began to ramble.

“Wanted to help.” You finished for him.

Just like he always said.

The good Father nodded, but didn’t move any closer. It was as if John could sense a shift in you then. How your rage seemed to almost boil over as you stood there in his clothes, smelling like him, in his home. It was all too much after what had happened. What he had done. The life he took from you. The people he took from you.

You clenched and unclenched your hand.

Impulse took over, and you lunged towards the fridge, swiped a magnet off of it and threw it right at the imposing man before you. It bounced off his chest.

John sighed. He knew you needed to work through this.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you-“ he started again.

You threw a cup from the counter at him. It hit his head and toppled to the couch. Father Pruitt flinched slightly at the knock, but continued nonetheless.

“- I know you likely will decline, but …I think it would be best if you stayed here unt-“

The spoon you threw at him hit his arm, so you threw a knife too- it cut his cheek. You found a pot lid and threw that too.

It missed.

“-until you heal fully and I hold a town meeting with everyone.” John finished and closed his eyes as he found his patience for you.

He knew you heard him. Especially when you started throwing objects in rapid succession.

And the Father let you.

He could see the tears starting to pool in your eyes; he could practically taste them. Your suppressed emotions surged to the surface of your heart and exploded out of you in pandemonium. Everything you had wanted to do since Easter came out of you.

After several minutes, you slowed your attack. You stood only a few feet from him now after making your way along the kitchen counter to launch various debris at him, and his immobility only made you angrier. If angry was the right word…unsettled, frustrated, scared…it was all muddled together with guilt and grief and you found you didn’t know what you felt anymore.

When the older man didn’t move or even try to reason with you, you pushed away from the sink behind you and walked to him and slapped him square across the face.

Silence rang in your ears.

Your hand stung.

Did he even feel anymore?

The action seemed to stun both of you; you a little longer than he. John nodded as he blew some air out through his nose as if he finally understood something.

You needed to hurt him. And to John, he felt a great sense of peace in that.

“Go ahead.” He murmured to you.

You stood there, head craning up to look at him. For a moment you thought he might be patronizing you. then it was like every bit of restraint left in you ebbed away. Your hands balled up and began beating on him anywhere you could reach. You hit him and hit him and he waited. John watched you patiently, taking even breaths as you shoved at him and beat his body that wouldn’t bruise.

Your hands hurt. They likely sustained worse injury than he did from your hits.

Then all of a sudden, you stopped.

Father Pruitt watched as you sunk your head down, leaned your forehead against his chest, and sniffled. Wet patches began to dampen his shirt, and Father John had to suppress a sound of surprise. When you didn’t continue, and didn’t move away, he raised his arms from his sides, and wrapped you in them. His hands clasped together around your back like a bow keeping you tied. To the Father’s surprise, you nestled deeper into his embrace. Long, shuttering breaths wracked your chest against his that would catch in your soft throat every so often.

John was terrified he might do something or accidentally say something and break you out of your moment of submission. He closed his eyes and breathed in the calm. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had let him hold them so intimately.

Even when he and Millie reuinited after Easter…they never embraced for long. Over the decades, the closest he had come to embracing anyone would have seen when he consoled someone as they grieved. Perhaps it had been when you had let him dance in your living room…yes that must have been it.

John knew that the last time he had sat privately with Mildred when they were young they hadn’t embraced…it had felt like more of a meeting than an ending of a…whatever relationship they had had. Sneaking around when the island went to sleep. Hiding away during the storms…little touches when they passed eachother. Best friends in another life.

Now here you were…this sweet little young woman with hands holier than his; a man who had sworn a life dedicated to God.

He felt envy…among other things.

Yet another sin, but he couldn’t help it.

John knew that he had a tendency to ramble or fill space with words- an attribute he had learned over the years of being a priest. So he decided not to push anything in such a precious moment. He eased a hand up to your head and drew you closer into his chest, and softly shushed you. He hoped he resembled more of a man trying to comfort a young woman, but somehow he knew that his arms encircling you and that low hum of his voice soothing you was more akin to a hunter about to snap it’s prey’s precious neck.

The older man pushed that ill acknowledgment to the back of his mind.

“You’re not alone…you never will be.” he whispered into the crown of your hair after a long ten minutes of embracing you.

You sucked in a steadying breath.

“I don’t know if that’s comforting or terrifying, Father…” you replied, a small tremor in your hands as your temper settled under his touch.

He shrugged a little, though not condescendingly.

“It’s entirely up to you.” John sighed, “Only you can decide if loneliness is a blessing or a damnation…”

He was with you. There with you.

A long silence stretched on, then you sighed softly into his chest, and the warmth from your breath blossomed across his chilled skin under his clothes. The sensation made John’s hair stand on end with delight. You were trusting him.

It took two more minutes of contemplation on your part before you said anything. That question that had been on your mind since you woke up close to an hour ago. The question you should have asked him first. Now it prickled up the back of your neck begging to be asked.

“Am I…” you tried, but it was so quiet, “Did I…?” You couldn’t get the words out. You sighed and your shoulders sagged.

“Father am I a…?” You prompted him and looked up for any confirmation or denial.

John searched your eyes for just a second then he realized what you were asking.

“Wha- No!” He whispered almost relieved, “No you didn’t get-…you…you’re fine.” His hands squeezed you tighter as if to reassure you. Maybe himself, too.

You nodded and slowly pulled away from him; your arms hung limp at your sides. You stared up at his brown eyes that looked darker now than they used to.

You jumped when you felt his thumb wipe a few tears that fell. You hadn’t even noticed that you were crying again.

“My dear girl…You’re going to be fine…you’re alright.” He murmured to you.

And for the first time since Easter, you believed him.

And you wanted to.

Father Pruitt sighed and swallowed on the thickness in his throat.

“This…this is my fault- my fault and I-I see that now. It was always about God but it…it all went wrong, so wrong…” he whispered reverently as he remembered how long ago you truly had been okay. John’s eyes held yours as his voice broke.

“It did.” You agreed in a lofty murmur in an attempt to keep any more tears at bay.

He twitched a smile, but forced it away. He didn’t deserve to smile.

You looked down a little, then ventured a glance up as you spoke. “You…I think…I think it would just be best if you maybe revised the descriptions of angels in any of the holy books before jumping to conclusions next time, Father.” Your mouth twitched just as his had. You pursed your lips to hide the bitter amusement that pulled.

Father John breathed out some air he had been subduing.

“I think that would be best.” He nodded, and felt his heart soar at the sight of you accepting him a little. A fragile little bit. Precious.

The two of you stood silently in each other's space as you both seemed to bask in your current truce.

It was you who spoke first.

"I...I'll go home." You said, yet somehow it sounded forced. Rehearsed. You were so used to saying it and needing to get away that asking him if you could stay felt wrong.

It took him off guard, and he deflated a little. But he understood. He didn’t like it.

“You know you’re welcome here, sweetheart…” he reiterated, and offered you a small tight smile that he hoped hid how badly he wanted to beg you to stay.

You nodded, and fiddled with the edge of your- his- shirt. “I know…”

Another moment pulled on, and John was near to sinking to the floor for an answer.

“Can I make you coffee? I still have some I think.” He asked gently. Would you agree? If you did agree was it a sign that you would stay?

You wanted to shake your head, not wanting to ingest anything that wasn’t yours, but a fresh cup of coffee did sound like a godsend right then. And while you were still a little weary of him…you were willing to give him a chance. One.

“Okay.” You said.

John tilted his head to look at you a little better as he was flooded with joy.

“Yes? Good…good.” He hugged you again, but released you almost immediately. He was growing a little greedy with touch.

You fidgeted with your hands and stared down at how clean your nails were. Had he done that too? The skin on the soles of your feet almost itched and made you shift from the amount of attention you were receiving. Months of isolation could do that to a person.

“How do you take your coffee?” Father John asked as he pried himself away from your air. You shifted a little on your feet and told him how you took it, and he grinned- pleased that you accepted his offer.

Have faith…

That was what he told himself then as he watched you from the corner of his eye. He needed to have faith in you, and you in him. He needed to nurture the little faith you had left in you. Help you to thrive.

John knew he had to work slowly and steadily with you. He needed to remind you that he did have good in him, and that he too had once been a lamb just like you. Just another soul looking for salvation. Sadly he had thought he’d found it in a cave. He hoped you might find some semblance of salvation in him.

The anxiety you had felt upon waking still sat at the base of your skull and made your hair stand on end. That little voice of scepticism tickled your ear and made you shutter; you inched your way as little closer behind him as he filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. Watching.

John knew you were staring. You might have been the sweetest lamb in his flock but you hadn’t always been the best at being discreet. With your excitement, and your distain, your curiosity and boredom. At least not with the Monsignor. Evidently even now it was a force of habit that you let yourself be a little more honest around him.

When you saw him cross his arms as he waited, you stepped away and began picking up the various things you had thrown his way. The scissors, knife, spoon, recipe book, pot lid, among others. When you came to a mug you had hurled at him, you picked it up and meekly handed it to the man. He took it with a small smile.

The kettle boiled and steam made your cheeks flush from your spot beside the good Father while he poured the scalding water. John looked up at your watchful eyes, and his nose twitched in regretful humour. He wordlessly took his hands away from the small coffee press and began rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, then showed you his empty, innocent hands.

“Nothing but a morning brew I assure you.” The older man said calmly.

The reassurance he offered you did little to cub your hesitation. You sucked in a breath and sighed. “Do you blame me?”

You had gotten so used to being weary around him that you were half expecting him to slip some blood into the strong drink.

He blinked and with missing a beat he said, “No.”

It seemed the two of you had some sort of unspoken understanding then. He wouldn’t hurt you and you would let him take care of you. You nodded your head, and turned away to pad over to the far wall to busy yourself with what books he had on his shelf. There were a few new ones you noticed.

Then your eyes slowly travelled over to the window, then to the newspaper clipping on the wall. You walked to it and stared at the grainy, youthful face that stared back at you. The same man who was behind you making you coffee.

You nearly hit the ceiling when the glass caught the reflection of the same face right behind you. You spun; startled at his proximity just a couple feet away.

“Sorry.” He said with a quick and slightly awkward smile as he offered you the cup. Those sharpened, white peaks poked out when his lips pulled back, and you were forced to remember that night again; the sounds still clear in your ears as islanders unleashed hell on one another.

You took the cup slowly, and gazed back at him for a moment before finally taking a sip. There was no metallic aftertaste. You sighed and closed your eyes. You needed that.

“Thank you.” You murmured to him, which he returned with a nod.

Tension kept you rooted to the spot, but you eventually managed to take a couple steps away, and gingerly moved past him to sat down on the small couch.

John didn’t want to crowd you too fast, and so stuck to picking up any remaining objects from earlier and washing a few dishes that had laid in the sink.

It was so quiet. While you were used to silence, you were not used to silence between people. You had been begging for an opportunity to talk to someone and here you were with exactly that, yet as fate would have it you couldn’t think of a word to say.

So you said the first thing you could manage.

“You swapped the cassock for jeans, hm?” You asked. It was stupid, but it had been something that made you shake your head with bemusement for months.

The jab at him made Father Pruitt’s brow jump and the lines beside his eyes deepen. Your humour had always been a welcomed companion even when you were little.

“Defiantly more inconspicuous.” He said, pausing to look back at you.

He missed you.

“Sure had everyone fooled…” You murmured. But he heard you…of course he heard you.

John pursed his lips and sighed quietly.

There was so much resentment and hostility inside you, and John knew that he put every bit of it there himself. You wouldn’t trust him on your own; you needed that guiding hand like he always had offered you. This time, he supposed, he faced the possibility of being nipped.

Father Pruitt was aware that you didn’t know every series of events following the vigil. You had run so fast and so far…so determined to stay alive. A crying lamb scattering away from the sharp blade that marked its fate with a red line.

The older man smiled bitterly, then moved slowly towards you.

“Can I sit, young lady?” He asked, coming around the edge of the small couch.

You watched him for a moment, then nodded and tucked yourself into one end of the couch to put space between you.

But then when John finally looked at you, he didnt know where to start.

You waited for a minute. When he still hadn’t spoken, you stared down at your coffee and blurted out another statement that had no rhyme or reason.

"Quite the cult following you have." You said.

Oh well done.

Months of loneliness truly had disintegrated your social skills.

But John’s head snapped up, and he laughed at the suddenness, "For a little while, yes...I did…I…the thing is, I thought it was their ability to hear God through me but…turned out they were more interested in what I had to say rather than God himself. They...they don't consider me much better than Judas now though and admittely I don’t blame them." He weaved his hands together in his lap and looked up at the ceiling.

You were surprised at the admission, "What do you mean?”

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “There is no short version of this for me to tell. But I’d like to tell you…” He said, leaning forward onto his knees, “Properly.”

You shifted a little at the seriousness in his voice, but supposed every story had a few sides to it, “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He said genuinely, “I’d like to start…I’d like to start from the beginning…”then he paused and thought, “No, no that’s not right. I’d like to start by saying that…you have every reason to resent my actions, and me. But I think it’s only right that you know everything.” He nodded to himself.

You looked down at the coffee in your hands as he spoke, but once he stopped, you slowly looked up at him. He was staring at you intently, as if gauging where to start. There was so much he needed to tell you and so much he wanted to tell you. He needed to tell you how utterly devastated he was by his selfish actions. He needed to tell you that he had been a coward for most of his life. He wanted to tell you that he missed you. He wanted to tell you that you were what kept him alive.

He supposed there was time for everything.

“When I was young…” he started quietly, “I was in love with a woman who I could not have…not that I’m supposed to have any- well, she was married. She was very devout to the church…a regular just like you were. Her husband was in the war and…she was alone…so alone…we…we let our feelings grow…I gave in and -…She had a daughter by me…Sarah…she had my eyes-“

“Doctor Gunning?” You blurted out, then your eyes widened,“You and Mild-“

“Yes.” He said absolutely, “Our lives were spent staring at eachother from across the church while I watched our daughter grow and I couldn’t even have the courage to come down and tell her…not until it was too late. Sarah…” he sucked in a breath as his throat tightened, “Sarah was shot…She died that night…Millie she…she was distraught in every sense. I tried to give her this gift of life so we could try together and it went all so wrong and it was only me to blame.” You watched him speak, and watched tears well in his eyes. You didn’t know he could make tears being what he was…but here you were with the man who had baptised you, weeping.

He swallowed and gathered himself, “Beverly she…she spun everything out of control. I meant what I said when I first came here, you know? That I’m-“

“-only here to help.” You echoed him.

He looked at you a little relieved that you were there with him.

“Yes. Yes exactly- I meant that. I told lies, but that was not one of them.” He assured you, “All I wanted was to help. To fix the mortality that keeps us from living every chance we desire…take something off of God’s hands but even saying that now out loud it’s foolish. I was foolish because God does not need help He is above help and only needs us to follow his will and somehow I thought I knew better. As a priest, I am supposed to let God speak through me, but at that time I was speaking for Him. Creating my own message…so clouded by this gift given to me that I couldn’t listen…and He was telling me to stop. But I didn’t.”

You didn’t say a word, and he continued.

“Then Bev she…I thought she was doing good and helping spread this gift and spreading the good word…but she…no she was even more clouded than I was. She spun everything until it was all so so wrong…she unleashed a living hell onto the rest of the island. Screams…God help me so many screams that night…”

“I know.” You choked out as you both shared the memory.

“And then it was quiet. So, so quiet. She wanted me to chose who lived and who died. She said it was always going to be me who chose and I realised then that she was no better than the pagans worshipping idols and false prophets…she had put me in ranks with our Lord’s messengers and sought to give me power that no man should be trusted with. As the sun rose, the island hid inside the rec centre and St. Patrick’s…but when the people needed aid and guidance, she made an enemy of herself. It wasn’t a week before the people turned on her and locked her out as the sun rose…now they govern themselves. I- I believe they resent me. We still hold Mass, but it’s so fascinating to witness the shift of a persons perception of you even if it is negative. It…it is…different. I pray that in time they will see that my intentions were only good. That I was merely lost.” Father Pruitt trailed off, and clasped his hands together- squeezing them as guilt gripped him.

“You…” you sat up, coffee gone cold ages ago as you tried to process everything he had told you. “You wanted to give yourself another chance with her…you just…wanted…to help.” You said, mostly to yourself, but John nodded.

“I did. I still do. Only now I truly mean it when I say I am merely a servant of God…to God. My guilt follows me everyday until I am ready to meet my fate…decide it is my last day and I feel the sun for the last time.” His voice broke and he stared at his loosely clasped hands, “Until I am…set free.”

You placed your cup down and settled back onto the couch. You knew this could all be an elaborate lie to manipulate you. You weren’t stupid. But when you finally looked over at him, there was such a startling vulnerability there staring back at you. Like he was baring his soul to you.

“She was your best friend, wasn’t she?” You asked slowly, shifting your gaze to a crack in the floor. “Mrs. Gunning.”

A smile twitched at his mouth, “A lifetime ago…”

You weighed his words, and thought.

There had been so many times now where he had failed to lend his help; that cumulated with his ability to twist words and situations to his betterment did not provide him with the most wonderful track record.

“You’ve lied to me.” You whispered.

“I did, yes.” He replied. Honesty. Have faith.

“You…you manipulated me,” You swallowed, “When I trusted you.”

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse with regret. He wanted so badly to tilt your head to look at him.

“You regret it.” You stated.

“I do. Every day.” He shifted a little closer to you. So minutely. Just a little bit.

“Can you help me?” You asked quietly.

At that, his head perked up, and he finally caught your eye. “Anything.” He meant it.

You were everything now. Perhaps you had been everything all along.

You considered your request carefully.

“Can you stop them?” You were meek and didn’t expect much. Honestly you were expecting him to give you an answer that would make you want to ask more questions.

As you stared back at him, you felt as if he was taking you in for the first time. Like he was memorizing every ounce of you that he could see, and you felt suddenly very aware of your skin and your hair and the teeth in your mouth.

John considered what might happen if he stood up for your absolute safety from the rest of the community. Many of them had become domesticated and had settled into their existence, but many were still resentful, vicious creatures of his own making. And in their eyes, you were their forbidden fruit. Perhaps you would become even more enticing to them with his authority over you. Regardless of the steady supply of blood to the island, he knew they craved the warmth of a live body to suckle. He was beyond well aware of the craving because, admittedly, he too coveted your tender flesh. John so wished he was far above such vulgarity, but he still found himself having to remind himself that you were sacred. Untouchable. That he was not to pin you down under his weight and expose your neck and bite into your fragile skin…

It would be a lie if he said that there weren’t nights where he was particularly hungry and he didn’t find himself imagining smelling your hair as he drank from you…he had gotten lightheaded by the thought alone and prayed for the remainder of the night.

But John had control.

“I can. Yes I can help you.” He nodded, “I’ll need your faith though.”

You stared at him. He knew exactly what you were thinking, and it pained him. John took your hands in his, and knelt down in front of you as he spoke.

“One more time. I promise…just one more time.” He assured you.

You pursed your lips, and vaguely looked out the window.

“I can’t keep doing this…I’m…I’m so exhausted.” You half laughed out of spite.

Father Pruitt nodded.

“I know…I’m so sorry I know you are.” There was that break in his voice again. Like he was on the verge of tears. “You are on such a higher level than I am in God’s eyes. He sees you and He is testing you. And you…you are doing so well.”

“I don’t feel like I am, Father.” You weren’t sure why you were being so honest. There was something magnetic in the man that pulled your heart from you so carefully that you didn’t even feel it.

“Tell me what you feel.” He squeezed your hands. You twitched at the contact, having not touched anyone for so long. His hands were soft…so soft.

You were nervous to open up to him completely.

John could almost feel your apprehension.

“Please, I am the one who put you here in this situation, in this…life. Please make me know your pain.” He whispered.

You looked down at your joined hands, and bit the inside of your lip to keep from crying.

“Tell me what is happening to you.” He urged you one more time in a whisper. And you felt a single tear fall from your eye and onto his thumb. He wished he could encapsulate that tear and keep it- precious.

Your last bit of restraint crumbled under his desire to help you.

“I…I feel washed out from the shore,” you choked out, “Like…like no matter how hard I try, I get dragged back out by a squall that just wont stop. It doesn’t matter how many times I gather my strength…I can’t get back. I feel like I’m in some foreign land and no one is there. And all it’s going to take is one wave that’s a little too big and a little too strong that I won’t be able to get over…and I’ll be gone. Lost under the surface.” Another tear fell onto your hands.

Father Pruitt stared at you, barely blinking as he regarded you.

“Giving in sounds so much easier than whatever it is I have to do everyday.” You shook your head; you hadn’t said any of these thought out loud, and now hearing them made your heart ache even more.

It would be a lie if John said he didn’t know how you felt. There had been many a time where he considered giving in…burning. But each time he would remember you, and how cowardly he would feel if he abandoned you there. He would see that photograph that sat in your hallway of you on Easter as a child in his mind and manage to make it through another day.

“I remember your baptism…” John said after a moment, “You hated it…” he laughed a little, “But when I gave you back to your mother you were fine…resilient and glowing. I have faith that you will weather this. The waters may be stronger, but you’re still that same soul.”

You felt your tears fall, “This time you can’t hand me back to my mom though.” You laughed a little at the ridiculousness of it.

He sighed and looked around the small house for a moment then moved and sat down beside you, and opened his arms to you. You eyed him wearily, but he only waited. He had done the same gesture to you many times over the years. Helped you when you had slipped and scraped your knee, or when your father lost his temper when you got ice cream on your dress on Easter…when you got sick and missed Mass. Always gentle and paternal, but not nearly as intimate as this. Your soul was bared to him now. It was no mere injury or heart ache.

You were grieving.

And he would guide you through it.

You took a deep breath, and scooted closer to him. You felt one of his arms wrap around your shoulders, and draw you into his chest. Your shoulders were ridged for a moment, then as your anxiety waned, and he drew small circles on your back with his thumbs, you relented. You timidly brought your arms around his shoulders and what was meant to be a hug turned into you clinging to him.

“I hate you.” You mumbled. It wasn’t a lie. Not a whole truth either but it was the only thing you could get out.

The Monsignor sighed out an amused breath. You could truly be so curt when you wanted to.

“Hate is such a strong word…used to express how despicable and irredeemable a person is…and I understand. I’ll admit I’m not my biggest fan either.” He agreed.

You laughed.

It was pained, but you laughed.

You sunk into his embrace a little more, minding your neck and shoulder to not disturb the injury too much. He nosed your hair, and settled into the cushions with you in tow.

Your heart clenched when you tried to recall the last time you had been embraced by someone for so long and unrushed. You only grew sadder when you truly could not remember.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep. What you did know was that you were opening your heavy eyes, and your body was warm and relaxed. You slowly took in where you were, and found that you were still in Father Pruitt’s arms.

There was a rumble against your ear, and you noted that it was him sighing. Your hand was gripping his shirt like a lifeline, and he still held you to his chest. And oddly enough, you felt safe. Wrapped in the embrace of the person who terrified you. Friends closer and enemies closer you supposed.

You slowly pulled away from him, and looked up at his face and he stared down at you. Your noses brushed for a moment, and you felt your breath hitch. He didn’t dare move- like a hunter about to shoot his beloved doe.

“Don’t leave me.” You whispered, warm air wisping against his lips.

He knew it then just as you knew it.

You were lost without him. And not in a way that made you reliant on him for your saving, but instead made him responsible for your healing.

“I won’t.” He murmured earnestly. He would always be a part of you; he had single-handedly etched himself into your life, and even if you left him right in that moment…he would somehow still be with you.

You pursed your lips, and fought the sting in your eyes as tears threatened to spill over again.

Then just as you started to pull from him and stand, John spoke. “Stay…” he said almost pleadingly.

You paused and looked at him as he rose to stand with you.

“Please, just…just for a day or two, you’re not fully healed.” He added, shifting a little as he stumbled over his words, “ I need…I need to speak with the town too…I may not look it anymore but I’m still their elder and they will hear me.”

You paused.

Redemption. You were letting him redeem himself in someway. His offer, while likely coming with good intentions, still made you nervous. You knew what they were like when they were hungry. And Father Pruitt was turned for longer than them, so either he had better control than the rest or he was even hungrier-

“You will not be harmed here, I swear.” He said, “I want to help you.”

You stared up at him, still thinking. You wanted to be helped…at this point you needed it. You were losing yourself completely to solitude.

He whispered your name.

“I need- need to help you. You’re lost…you said it yourself- how hard everyday is for you…and I have to take most of that blame. The thing is, I gave you so much security and assurance when I returned that now you cannot move on from this traumatic point in your life without my help. Let me help you…I know the horror you feel there in your heart- I- I saw it all too. Felt it. No one else could do that for you. Let me help you.” He whispered, hands coming to rest on your shoulders as he spoke, “Please…I need to.”

You bit at the side of your tongue, but found yourself growing weaker in resolve; you weren’t sure if it was from the wound still closing on your shoulder or from the way his dark eyes entranced yours as he spoke to you like you were the most important thing in the world in that moment. But the desperation in his voice ensnared you.

“…Okay.” You whispered back.

John nodded, a rush of air spilling from his lungs.

“Thank you…” he whispered back, and pulled you close, one hand on the back of your head, and the other around your ribs; careful to not disturb your wound, “I’m…I’m going to take care of you.”

Those words alone had your nose tingling as tears began to rise to your eyes, but you sniffled and fought them back.

The remaining hours of the winter daylight were only a few, and you spent them wrapped in a blanket that smelled of the man sat at his desk.

A respectful distance away from you.

Old fashioned.

You laughed a little to yourself when you looked at him so concentrated in his grey jeans and sweater. You wondered if he was more vibrant when he was young. Or was he always an old soul at heart?

“Old man…” you breathed out absentmindedly into a cup of broth he had made you.

“Deprecation is not in good manners, young lady.” He murmured back to you, and you nearly choked.

You forgot that he could hear the tiniest of whispers.

“S-sorry…it just…funny to see Monsignor Pruitt in jeans.” You said, cheeks warming.

John grinned.

“Ah…yes well…I can’t say I’ve worn them since I was a young boy…always saw the young parishioners wearing them by the 80’s and I always wondered what drew people to wear them so often…I won’t lie they are a little stiff at first.” He said in good humour, looking up from his writing.

You held his gaze for a minute, then nodded, “They suit you, Father.”

Your comment caught him off guard, and you chose to let him sit in that slight discomfort. So instead of saying another word you just smiled a little then turned away from him and nestled into your blanket a little more.

A half hour passed before either of your spoke again. This time it was he who approached you.

You were nodding off when you heard him walk over to the couch and crouch in front of you.

“We gotta change your dressing.” He whispered gently, patting your knee. His eyes flickered over your face as he tried to discern how you were feeling. What you were feeling.

You drew your heavy eyelids up and curled in on yourself, “Can we do it later?” You mumbled- already half asleep and so comfortable that you finally knew what those cinnamon rolls you used to make felt like.

“I know…I know…c’mon, hold onto me.” He slipped his hand under your blanketed legs and hoisted you up to walk you to the bathroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and buried your face there.

“There we go…good girl, just sit there for me and I’ll be right back.” He sat you down on the small counter, and retrieved the gauze from the bedroom before returning to you. You peeled your eyes open to watch him work. He snipped the fabric to have it ready quickly, then took a deep breath before gently removing the medical tape that kept your old dressing in place.

“Father it hurts…”You hissed a little at the sting and ache of the wound and how some of the gauze was stuck to the edge of the wound and pulled.

“Shh…shh…there you go,” he cooed to you. You then heard him swallow as the bite was exposed.

“That bad?” You asked.

The good Father blinked and took a steadying breath, “No- no not at all. Healing well actually…just…uh- just it- well…it’s- you’re doing good.” He stumbled over his words as he cleaned around the skin.

You looked up at him now, and he seemed to catch your sobered expression.

“I’m fine.” He said reassuringly.

And you nodded.

“I’m going to take care of you.” He repeated, then tossed the bloodied wipe into the bin and began bandaging you up.

“There you go…good as new.” John didn’t smile; he was almost looking for your approval. Still uncertain. He was almost waiting for you to say that you had enough and that you’d leave. But it didn’t come.

You nodded and let him help you into bed, and he felt a little reassured.

But then as he went to go after bringing your blanket up to your neck, he felt your hand grab his sleeve, and he paused and knelt beside you. Your eyes were closed and your breathing was already slowing.

“Thank you John…” you whispered.

The older man felt tears well in his eyes, but he swallowed and leaned his forehead to your hand.

“I will make this right…” Father Pruitt said quietly to himself. He watched you fade away, and found himself tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear before leaving you to rest.

You slept well into the evening, long past sunset.

When you awoke, the room was dark aside from the sliver of light from the cracked door. You blinked slowly, willing your weariness to go away as you slipped from the bed and to the floor; the cold wood sobered you a little as you padded to the door.

“You must be hungry.”

You jumped at the soft voice from the kitchen.

You pushed the door open and meekly looked out into the main room- your eyes adjusting to the light.

John was stood over a small pot that he stirred occasionally on the stove. It was only then that you smelled that he was making, and your stomach growled in recognition of food.

John hid his grin well when he heard your hunger.

“My mother used to make this all the time when we needed some healing…physical or mental…tell me if it needs anything I…I can’t really taste it.” He said gently, raising his bowed head to look at you. John stood with a spoon full of the soup as he waited for you to decide, and he felt a swell of pride in him when you slowly started to walk to him.

You tried to hide the fact that your stomach was doing flips at his gesture. You couldn’t recall the last time someone had made you food.

“Open…” He breathed out, and you parted your lips; his eyes caught your pink tongue just inside your mouth as you accepted the spoon. A detail he didn’t know what to do with.

You let the taste fill your mouth.

It was good.

Really good.

You swallowed and nodded, “Thank you…it’s really nice. Just a little more salt, please.” You wrung your hands as you spoke.

The older man nodded, and watched you turn away to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk. A shiver ran through you then, and you sighed as you begrudgingly went to stand to retrieve a blanket.

John turned to bring you a bowl of soup, and quickened his steps when he saw you getting up. “What do you need?” He asked.

“I’m just a bit cold.” You said, and went to move past him but his large hand caught your arm.

“Sit, I’ll get you something.” John sat you back down and placed to soup in front of you while murmuring something about the liquid being hot. You watched him disappear into his bedroom then reappear just a moment later with a pair of thick socks, and a blanket.

“Oh thank yo- …Father what-…” you went to take the socks from him but he knelt in front of you and tucked the blanket around your hips and thighs, then began putting the socks on your feet like it was the most normal thing in the world.

John’s eyes caught your surprised stare, and blinked up at you, “Eat up, sweetheart or it’ll get cold.” He hummed.

You felt your ears grow warm, but you didn’t dare open your mouth to protest and tell him you could take care of yourself. You also decided to ignore the warmed that gathered behind your navel. So without another word, you turned and began to eat what he gave you. You sighed as it went down your throat; you didn’t know how you had managed to make it this long without some kind of human connection.

“I have Mass tonight.” John said and he stood and sat behind his desk- sorting through his papers.

You looked up from your bowl and nodded. Your anxiety rose slightly at the prospect of being alone after what had happened.

Evidently he heard your heart rate spike, and his focus broke from the papers and jumped to you instantly.

“You will not be harmed. It will only be a couple hours. I have the only key to the rectory after Bev- after she…passed. I’ll be speaking with the island tonight…I put in a word for all to attend tonight.” The priest spoke earnestly.

You peered up at his direct gaze, and sighed then nodded. “Okay.”

He returned the gesture, “Okay.” He whispered.

You watched him gather his things, and found yourself surprised by how your eyes followed him around the modest house as he readied himself. You startled yourself with the realization of how attached you were becoming to his presence, and you quickly looked away from him.

John sighed and grabbed his notebook then came to crouch down in front of you. “If anyone knocks, go into the cellar…if anything happens, open the back window and you come to me.” He said firmly.

Your eyes flickered between his, “Okay.”

He grinned a little and patted your cheek lightly, “There’s a good girl…eat, and have more water.” He pointed to the kitchen and you watched him leave. The lock clicked into place.

You felt alone again.

Although this solitude was not altogether uncomfortable. Just quiet.

You could hear voices approach the church and wander nearby. Unease churned in your guts as they drew close, and you chose to relocate to the bedroom. You filled another bowl of soup and shuffled to the back of the house where you cocooned yourself on Father Pruitt’s bed. A wince escaped you when you laid down wrong, and you rolled your shoulder to try to ease the pain. It was more of a dull ache now that throbbed every so often.

You downed the soup, and curled in on yourself. You wanted so badly to shower…to brush your hair and feel more like yourself. You felt far more exhausted than you should have; you wondered if the bite had come with some sort of poison that your body was fighting off.

Sleep took you before you could stop it. It wasnt until you felt a large palm against your cheek that you started to wake up. You nestled into the hand and burrowed yourself deeper into the pillows below your head.

Then you could hear your name being said softly.

After several minutes, you cracked your eyes open. When you did, you were given a bit of a fright.

John was leaned over you just a foot away as he tried to rouse you from your sleep. What startled you however was how the light from the living room caught his eyes and made them glint in the darkness like the cats that used to populate Crockett.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and backed off a touch, “It’s been a few hours…just need to check your dressing.”

You sighed and while you truly did not wish to move from your spot, you did not want an infection in the middle of winter.

“‘S okay…”you mumbled as you got up.

Father Pruitt gingerly pulled your shirt’s neck down and removed the bandage. You were healing, slowly.

“Father?”

John blinked and looked at you, “Yes?”

“Could I take a shower?” You asked. It had been almost two days, and you could feel yourself growing itchy.

The older man ground his teeth for a moment at his lack of care for you.

“Of- of course. The uh…the bite is healed enough that you can wash up under warm water.” He began looking anywhere but at you as he was reminded of how he had cleaned you.

You nodded and slipped past him into the small bathroom, “Um…do you have some clean clothes?” You asked timidly. You hated that you had to keep asking him for help; John on the other hand was elated.

“Y-yes just let me…um…” he began searching through his clothes and found you some pants and a shirt that would likely be warmer than what you had currently. The pants you would likely have to roll up.

You found a little amusement in how he seemed to be so uncomfortable; it wasn’t that it was sweet or gentlemanly, it was that you had been so distressed for so long because of him, and you enjoyed seeing him in the same position.

“Thank you.” You said, and left him there to wash yourself.

John released a breath that relieved a little of the pressure on his chest when you closed the door. He needed to do more than his best for you, and you seemed to be very aware of that. Knowing that you needed him to be better made him unable to relax. John knew he could be cowardly, and selfish, and very wrong, but he was going to do his damnedest to be more than his mistakes and sins. Even if it was the last thing he did.

When you returned to the living room, you found Father Pruitt standing with the rectory telephone pressed to his ear as he looked out one of the windows. You felt your stomach sink at the thought of him telling anyone you were there. But then again, they likely already knew.

“Yes…yes it seemed to go well…blunt or not, they needed the line drawn. No, just wait. I wou-…y/n, it’s okay, sweetheart, you can come out.” He called to you as he paused his conversation.

You timidly shuffled out the door and peeked over at him. He held his hand out to beckon you over as he hummed and mumbled a few things over the phone. You padded over to him, and he kept his gaze trained on you once you came within reach.

John reached up and tucked a few hairs behind your ear and touched your chin gently, “Good…and they understand?…good,” he said, “Yes…she’s strong. Alright. Take care.” He extended his arm to place the phone back on the receiver, and sighed, “Annie.” He said.

Your heart squeezed, but didn’t say anything.

“She’s worried about you,” John hummed, “I spoke to the island last night. Instilled the fear of their god into them lest they touch you again.” His voice lacked any malice or anger, in fact it was very calm, but there was no hiding how tight his jaw was.

You nodded, and tugged at the blanket you had wrapped around your shoulders.

“Father?” You asked him.

“Hm?” He hummed.

“I want to take a walk.” You said.

John stopped looking at your bandage and focused on you, “I don’t-“

��And I want you to come with me.” You finished.

That surprised him, but pleased him greatly.

“Lead the way, young lady.” He cracked a small grin.

You nodded, and disappeared back into the bedroom to find the socks he had given you and a sweater. When you returned, you frozen in your place when you saw him shrugging on that long black coat that was older than you.

“You kept it…” you mumbled.

Father Pruitt paused and looked down at himself, “Ah…yes well I suppose we all have things we grow attached to.”

You pursed your lips, and pulled the sweater you had taken a little tighter before you walked to your shoes and slipped them on. They were clean now, no longer muddy and full of grass.

John joined you by the door, and you looked up at his as he opened the door. He seemed to feel your pause, and turned his attention to you.

“You’re safe.” He whispered earnestly.

There was a calm that came over you then. You didn’t necessarily want to trust him, but you had told yourself that you would let him try to redeem himself. Trusting him was the first step.

You nodded, and stepped outside into the early morning air. The winter temperature made you shiver, but the crisp air was refreshing. You took a slow step out onto the grass, and looked back at Father Pruitt who stood at your shoulder like a guard.

A guardian angel.

You almost laughed at the thought.

He nodded, and placed a gentle hand on your back to encourage you. You truly hoped he was being sincere and wasn’t guiding you into the hungry mouths of the islanders. That this hadn’t all been an elaborate lie.

The frosty dirt and gravel under your feet crunched far too loudly. You could only imagine how loud it was for the man beside you. He chose not to comment.

John couldn’t have cared less about the sound of the road you walked on; he was far more occupied with listening for any islanders nearby, or that winged monster. He didn’t know who had done it, but whoever had cut holes into its wings had done Gods work. Forever contained to Crockett.

The two of you made it almost into town without incident. As you passed the marina, there were several old fhishermen maintaining their boats. Men you used to feed and laugh with. It look mere seconds for them to smell you and hear your heart. One by one their heads snapped up.

You could feel your natural instinct to run, but you felt that hand on your should and farm around your back that steadied you as you and the father stared back at the men.

You sucked in a breath, and turned to the older man, “I’m okay.” You said quietly.

John turned his attention to you, and his clenched jaw loosened.

The two of you moved on through the town. Left and right, heads poked out from windows and people stopped to stare at the pristine lamb walking through their den. Neither of you said a word as you passed the general store, and your old shop.

“Y/n?”

You stopped in your tracks. That voice broke your heart with just your name. You looked over past Father Pruitt, and saw Ali just several feet from you with Warren.

You couldn’t breathe all of a sudden as the memory of burying his father flooded you after so long of you praying to forget it.

“Ali.” You whispered.

The boy took a few tentative steps towards you, then almost ran to you and held you tight. You knew he wasn’t the most affectionate teenager, but as he gripped you, you could almost feel his own sorrow. You pushed the pain of the wound away even as his arm pressed on it.

“Thank you…” his voice came from your uninjured shoulder.

You embraced him and rubbed his back gently, “He loved you, Ali…he still does.” Your voice broke, but tears wouldn’t fall.

He sniffled, and tightened his grip, then slowly pulled away. You noticed how he wouldn’t look at the men beside you. In fact many didn’t. Perhaps he had told the truth about being ostracized.

“I’m sorry…I’m- I should have listened to you I’m sorry-“ he started to ramble.

You shook your head, “Ali…Ali it’s done,” you whispered, then remembered something his father had told you, “Inshallah God will have mercy on you. If I meet him before you, I’ll put in a good word.” You smiled a little, and he stared at you like you had given him the best possible news.

“Thank you…thank you.” He hugged you one more time, before you let him go, and began walking again.

John watched you from the corner of his eye every so often as you made your way through town. He was pleased that he only had to ward off a couple islanders who got a little too curious, and he noticed how you could subconsciously lean into his side when he did.

You house was always a no-go zone for anyone. Especially after your attack. That night when he addressed the islanders, John hadn’t been that angry since Easter…hadn’t yelled so venomously in so long. Now your home sat peaceful and empty.

He watched you gather the things you wanted and needed and stuffed them into a duffle. Photos and books and things that held memories or that you held dear to you. Things that could make anywhere feel like home. Clothes and shoes and snacks. You muttered occasionally to yourself, and gazed longingly at your stand mixer sitting on your counter as you passed it. You missed being you. You missed…living.

You might have stayed and reminisced a little longer, but the sun wouldn’t stay down forever. With just a few more things placed into the bag, you pulled it over your shoulder and walked back to the door where a Father Pruitt stood waiting.

He extended his hand out to you, and you stared at it a little confused, then he nodded to your bag, “I’ve given you enough of a burden to carry in this life.” John didn’t wait for you to hand it to him- he slipped it off your shoulder and onto his like it weighed nothing, then opened the door for you. You grabbed a coat off the pegs by the door, and slipped it on over your borrowed clothes.

Your fingers ached from the cold as you walked back across the island. You buried them into your pockets, and kept your gaze ahead as you went. Just as before, several heads turned as you went by. Your stomach hurt when you saw Annie standing with Ed in their doorway as you passed by. It had been almost 10 months since you saw them, and now you almost felt estranged.

You had begun to notice that whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not. But you truly didn’t belong anymore.

As your journey passed by that gap in the brush by the shore, you paused and began towards it to visit the halo of stones. You crouched down onto the cold earth, and placed your hand over the now-framed photo of Hassan and Ali on his grave.

You sighed, and looked up at the dark sky, “Put in a good word for me, too.”

John swallowed any words that tried to worm their way out. He didn’t deserve to comment. Instead, he stood by and watched you wipe off your knees as you straightened up, and continued on.

The two of you began to come up to the rectory, but then just as you went to turn down the path, you stopped again. You thought for a moment, then turned to the Father.

“Can I take you one more place?” You asked.

“Of course.” He said, and quickly placed your bag inside before joining you again. This time, you continued on past the church and towards the other side of the island.

You slowly led him out to the Uppards, and you walked him over to a patch in the grass that you now knew well. You sat, and patted the spot beside you, “Sit.” You said.

John took the place next to you, and stared out at the water.

“This was where I sat that night.” You said into the wind, “Waiting…”

John watched you, pain clinging to his chest. He had wondered where you had run. What shelter you had made for yourself.

“I tried to keep Leeza and Warren safe, I really did but…it just wasn’t enough,” your broken whisper came out in puffs of vapour. You could feel those emotions you had been certain were guarded start to rear their heads.

John so badly wanted to comfort you…to offer something. But your heart was racing and your breathing was heavy. You needed to say more and he wasn’t going to deprive you.

“He-…” you tried, “He was a good man, Father. Hassan just…he just…wanted some place quiet and safe for Ali…he died being hated but he deserved so much more. Ali deserves so much more and you took that.” Your cheeks warms as that rage began to seep into you.

“I did,” He said finally, voice hoarse, “I did take that and I’m so…so sorry and I wish I could give it all back…” he shook his head and looked over at you as he spoke. You met his gaze and pursed your lips, “There are no words that I could say now or in a hundred years that could express my sorrow to you.” He spoke earnestly.

You sighed, and stared at him, “And what about me?” You whispered.

His breath caught.

“What about me, Father?” You asked.

He thought for only a moment, “I took so much from you…I think the only thing I didn’t take was your faith. I told you…that night…to have faith. The thing is, you do have it. Your ability to believe in good and better is…astounding. You are…so good. And I hurt that. I cannot tell you how guilty I am. I was greedy.” John said honestly, “With so much, but especially with you, I was greedy. They say God mends wounds in time- physical, mental and emotional…but I would place no blame on you if you didn’t heal from what I put you through. You were so bright…so loved…just…Lord so beautiful. So beautiful inside and out and I was a coward for much of my life trying to hide that ugliness and I envied you. I am…so, so sorry.”

The older man looked away from you to stare out at the dark water. You felt a stray tear fall down your cheek at his words. He had hurt you, but you hadn’t expected it to be more than skin deep.

“I hurt something because I found it sublime and I wanted it to last forever. I was…cruel. I was cruel. I didn’t notice the destruction that came with it. And I’m sorry.” John looked back at you, and you noticed the glassiness in his eyes. A few tears fell.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. It might have been an hour that passed before you slowly reached over to him and grasped his hand. He was almost instantaneous in holding it in return.

“What’s it like, Father?” You asked, and looked over at him.

He returned his attention to you, “What’s what like, little one?”

You stared back at him and took in his handsome face. His dark hair that fell a little over his forehead, his dark eyes and full brows. It took a moment of your staring for him to realize you were asking about the… “gift”.

He paused and sucked in a breath before shaking his head, “Well you…you see things you’ve never seen and heard things you never thought you would be able to…smell things you didn’t know could be smelled. I could hear the flowers blooming when I stood close enough…the world breathes. Sings…glows brighter…magnificent.” John thought aloud, looking around him until he came back to you, “But too much of a good thing is bad.” He smiled bitterly.

You blinked, and nodded.

Father Pruitt squeezed your hand, and sighed, “I may not feel the cold but you do. C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you back.” He stood, and pulled you up with him.

You didn’t protest, and let him guide you out of the brush and onto the path. He took you through the marshy woods and along the stone road until you neared the rectory. You noticed then how it was starting to get lighter out. You slowed your steps as you came to the grass, and stopped completely.

John felt you stop moving and looked back at you. His brows pitched up in confusion, “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He asked, fearing your wound had opened up or you had gotten ill.

But you just stared up at him and waited. A beat passed between you where he looked around and inspected you, trying to figure out why you wouldn’t move, then it dawned on him. John stopped looking around, and tilted his head down to gaze back at you. Seconds ticked by and the world around you grew brighter and brighter.

And you waited.

But the Father wouldn’t move. You saw his eye twitch when the warm glow started to break through the trees.

That was enough.

You took his hand and tugged him along where he scooped up your bag that had been resting on the stoop and entered the rectory just as the sun rose. Neither of you commented on what had just happened, not that you needed to. You wanted to see if he had been truthful; did he honestly want to change and stop being a coward? Would he die for you if that was your wish…as someone who he had taken everything from and manipulated.

You felt yourself soften towards him after that night.

For once, he told you the truth.

You let him take your jacket off and watched his hands unzip it. You took your bag and placed it in his room, where you opened it up and slowly took everything out. You felt silly grabbing so many things that you didn’t need…but not having them felt stranger.

You pulled out a fresh pair of your own clothes and didn’t think twice before you lifted up your borrowed shirt.

John Pruitt, ever the gentleman and holy man, froze when he caught sight of you through the open door. He might have chastised you for being so careless if it was anyone else, but he couldn’t get the words out. He saw the curve of your back and swell of-

Turn around John.

He spun on his heel and grabbed a book off his shelf and sat on his couch, facing the very opposite of where you were. It took a few more minutes of you shuffling through your things before you padded back out to him. You passed the couch and placed a pair of your shoes by the door. John could smell your scent again now that it wasn’t muddled with his clothes.

Then you came back and plopped yourself down beside him and leaned over to his shoulder to see what he was reading. “What’s this, Monsignor?” You asked softly.

The title gave him pause and he looked up from the pages.

“It um…it’s a collection of German fairytales.” He mumbled, only now realizing what he was reading.

You leaned closer, and laughed quietly, “Didn’t know you were German.”

“Oh I’m not- it was a gift…many years ago. Decades…Christmas I think. People seem to have the idea that priests lack any fear and don’t like a nice ending for stories. I’ll be honest, y/n this book always scared me a little.” John turned the page and grimaced at one of the illustrations.

“Be not afraid…” you whispered quietly. Those words made his heart ache; words meant to help and comfort were now tainted by his own doings.

You both quietly sat there, not saying a word. As you slowly let you guard down, you could feel yourself starting to recover after months of running on nerves and willpower. Your head grew heavy on his shoulder, and John realised after a minute that you had fallen asleep. He remained where he was and shifted you so your legs were across his lap and your face was in his chest. The last thing you needed was an aching back.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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