#and them in bed with john resting his head on paul's shoulder

[myplasticadversary]

It always tickles me that the elevator kiss arguably isn't even the gayest moment in the movie

[billthedrake]

BIRD IN THE HAND (PART FOUR)

Paul Ricciardi didn't cook but he was used to clean up duty at his house. So it was natural to offer now. It had been weird, in a good way, to see his little brother come out and have his first real relationship, at 48. John was clearly head over heels for Cole, and even over dinner they'd trade glances in a honeymoon kind of way.

Paul was happy for John, but damnit even seeing that 20-something hottie made him pine for some hot guy-on-guy sex. It was an itch he hadn't scratched the last seven months. Maybe it was for the best, but Paul hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told John seven months ago that no one could live up to Cole's hotness. The FBI deputy director had gone through withdrawals from being cut off from Cole Walker's ass. He was still going through them.

"Let me get this, Paul," John said as he walked into the kitchen with the empty beer glasses and picking up a spare dish towel and slinging it over his meaty shoulder. John always had the more jacked body, but lately, it was like he'd gone hog wild with his workouts. His little bro was the opposite of little - not overly musclebound but definitely big all over.

"Nah, man," Paul objected. "I told ya, I got this."

John smirked, and Paul thought it was just because his brother was playing some etiquette game. But the younger agent leaned in and whispered, "Bro... Cole's back in the bedroom right now... if you're interested."

Paul gulped. His immediate reaction was to think it was a trap. "Come on, John," he objected, but already his face was flushing read.

John held his brother's gaze steady and gave a friendly nod. "Seriously, Paul, the stud's craving some Head Honcho time."

"Head Honcho?" Paul asked with a surprised chuckle.

John flashed a grin. "His nickname for you, bro." He patted Paul's shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. "He's in total heat tonight. If you're not gonna go fuck him, I will."

Paul felt hot and his throat felt tight. "No, no... I wanna," came the reply out of his mouth. He took one more good look at his brother's face. He didn't want to mess their relationship up, but he also didn't want to pass on what was being offered. "If you give the OK, John."

"Have at it, Tiger... trust me," he said. Already he was starting the water in the sink and rinsing the dishes.

Paul didn't rush back to the bedroom, but he walked briskly, already unbuttoning his button-down shirt. As he rounded the corner he could see the kid... 24 now and still collegiate and youthful. Amazing ex-soccer body that had only been honed by steady gym time since his Georgetown days, a classic bubble ass that had to be half genetics and half dedicated work.

Cole Walker clearly knew what drew the Ricciardi brothers to him like a moth to flame.

"Hey," the jocky dude said dreamily as he stretched face down on the bed and looked back. Cole's voice was alluringly deep.

God, it was almost like the seven months had never happened and Paul was boning up for a quickie. But if anything the FBI man wanted the kid more badly now. He untucked his shirt and undid his belt. "I take it you're OK with this, too."

Cole nodded. "John and I have talked a lot about it. We want this," Cole replied. "I want this." He turned to face forward and slightly arched his back before hiking that round, smooth muscular ass up.

Goddamn, Paul's throat went dry. Hurriedly he stripped the rest of his clothes off and climbed up onto the bed, on top of Cole's taut, fit shorter body. The kid felt warm and the skin of his younger muscle felt dry against Paul's hairy chest. The law man kissed excitedly along Cole's strong neck and pawed at the hottie's arms and upper body.

This was all the foreplay the kid was gonna get though. The lube was out already and Paul helped himself. A seven month dry spell - at least outside of his marriage - was about to end.

"God fucking damn," he growled as he pressed inside that warm, snug ass. Cole was still tight but the kid took Paul's fat tool more readily than before in. John had broken the younger stud in, and that idea excited Paul. He barreled his tool all the way in.

"Fuck yeah," Cole hissed. "Fuck me, sir."

Paul did just that, with a few hard, deep shoves before working up to a faster fuck. "YOu missed Daddy's cock, boy?" His hips were working extra hard to pile drive the kid, making up for lost time.

Cole shook his head no. "John's my Daddy now. You're Uncle Paul."

Jesus, fuck, the kid was pervy, more than Paul ever dreamed. "Christ," he muttered, but mostly his reaction was to go wild on Cole's ass. Heavy, full-body thrusts in and out. A fuck that made the mattress bounce in time. Cole loved it but the whimpers were on the cusp of pleas to stop. They only made the lawman fuck harder.

"UNNNF!" Paul hissed as he came, all too soon. He'd probably lasted two minutes inside Cole's hole. He paused and caught his breath before he pulled out. His prick felt slimy wet and instinctively he knew he'd blown a double-heavy load just then. He patted Cole's perfect, alabaster-pale rump and slid off to the side. "Um, you cum, buddy?" he asked. He'd never been concerned about Cole Walker's orgasms before, but he knew the kid would get off on the hard sex and what he'd just delivered had ranked up there for a pile driving fuck.

Cole turned on his side, his ripped, taut body twisting for Paul's still hungry gaze. That ex-jock bone was still rigid. "Nah, Uncle Paul... but that's cool. I'm hoping your brother finishes me off."

"Damn," Paul hissed. He was used to being the in-charge one, but he realized he was over his head here. He placed his hand behind Cole's neck, taking a second to sink into those eyes and take in that cute face. And like that, Paul was kissing him. Maybe it was against the ground rules, but John hadn't actually set any. He'd just sent Paul back to the bedroom.

And Cole was getting into the kiss too. Half of it was the kid hadn't gotten off, but it was a slow affectionate kiss. He had a smile when they finally broke it.

"You should have your brother give you some lessons," Cole said, matter of factly. "He's a really good kisser."

"You guys planned this," Paul observed.

Cole shrugged. "If we hadn't, you would have tried to fuck me anyway."

The words stung Paul, but he realized Cole was right. And he realized Cole wasn't offended. They kissed again. The hottie's fist was wrapped around the lawman's fat cock, which was rock hard again. Slowly stroking as they made out.

"Why don't you go get John?" Cole said at last.

Paul got off the bed and started to pick up his clothes. "Come on, Uncle Paul... Daddy knows you've fucked me. No need to be shy."

Jesus, this kid...

In for a pound, thought Ricciardi as he dropped his underwear and padded into the hall in his birthday suit. He felt a lot self conscious walking into the living area of the condo, naked and with a good shank of hardon. But John didn't bat an eye other than to flash a grin.

"The kid's ready for ya," Paul announced. Then, "you weren't kidding about him being in heat."

John's chest puffed some as he stood up. He clearly had a thick boner in his jeans. "You glad you took me up on the offer, Paul?"

His big brother nodded dumbly. "Like you wouldn't believe. And I'm gonna go for seconds unless you guys say no."

"Not gonna happen," John smirked. He stepped up to his naked older brother. The man he'd looked up to for year, the man whose success still inspired him and fed some healthy sibling rivalry.

Both Ricciardi men were nervous but it was like they new this was inevitable. Paul's hands gripped John's waist and he gently pulled him close. There was a soft growl from both as their lips connected and their mouths opened. Then, toe to toe, they stood, French kissing for the first time.

"That was fucking nice," Paul Ricciardi grunted as they broke off.

"It was," John admitted. "Glad you went it it brother."

The incest was intense but surprisingly didn't freak Paul out. "Cole says you should give me kissing lessons."

John laughed. For all that he strived to be Paul Ricciardi in bed, it was always good to be reminded of the areas where he had the edge over his big brother. "I can do that," he smirked. "In the meatime, please tell me you're gonna join us."

Paul gulped and nodded. That hot feeling and dry throat were coming back now. "I'm gonna join you guys."

Paul saw the excited look in Cole's face as he got back onto the bed. He didn't want to freak John out but he claimed another kiss of the hottie while his brother stripped down, less impatiently than he had before. Maybe Paul would have to learn some sexual control from his little brother too.

Maybe that kiss went on too long because John was now kissing up the other side.

"Oh FUCK guys," Cole whimpered now that Paul's mouth had moved to his neck. Clearly he was living out a major fantasy, and the dual foreplay was as hot as the fucking. Almost.

It was John's turn to claim a kiss, his body now flexing and showing some more intense sexual excitement. Maybe he wasn't completely patient.

"He treat ya good buddy?" John finally asked in a whisper.

"So good, Daddy," Cole muttered.

Paul looked up, watching at close quarters this intimate conversation. It was almost like he wasn't there but some hired escort who'd done his job and left.

John grinned into his younger boyfriend's face. Yes, the 24 year age gap was tough to navigate. They still got the cold shoulder from some family and friends because of it. But here, here in their shared master bed, it felt right. "What did you decide on the rubber, buddy?" His voice got tight as he asked.

Cole blushed red and seemed shy as he looked over at Paul. "Uncle Paul felt so good, Daddy... I just let him in raw."

John nodded excitedly, like he was expecting that answer. "Gonna let Daddy have a taste?"

Cole turned back to his boyfriend. "Yes sir," he replied.

Deep down, Paul knew what was happening and knew what was going to happen. But he watched, transfixed and immobile as John kissed his way down that taut chest and those six pack abs, around the kid's groin, before nudging Cole to lift his legs up.

"Oh DAMN!" the FBI man hissed as his little brother started rimming Cole's recently fucked hole. Lube and cum notwithstanding. And John wasn't hesitant, he really began rimming excitedly and munching at Cole's tender pucker.

"Push it out, buddy," John finally urged. "Push it out for Daddy."

Cole got a concerted look on his face but it was only from the enthusiastic moans coming from John that let Paul know his brother was tasting his cum.

John was like a man on a mission as his jacked agent body climbed up hurriedly to meet Cole's kiss. As they reconnected and began snowballing Paul Ricciardi's load, John kicked the ex-jock's legs apart and began fucking, wildly.

The kid was beside himself, clinging to John's strong, heaving body and having his deep anal orgasm as they shared their cummy kiss.

Only then did John pull up, his head now a few inches from Cole's face as he kept fucking. "I know it's tough buddy, but Daddy needs to get off still... you gonna be my brave little man for Daddy? Gonna hang in there?"

Paul had intended for a round two, but unable to resist tugging at his boner, watching this scene tripped his wires. Another load spurted out. And once it happened, Paul committed to stroking out the orgasm, most of the cum landing on his own chest and belly as he watched.

His dick was still oozing as John entered his own orgasm. He gave a few deep, wordless cries and a few hard pounding thrusts. Then his body clenched still and unloaded, and John kissed Cole tightly.

The couple finally had a softer peck before John turned to Paul.

"Love ya, too, brother."

"Goddamn, John," Paul hissed as he moved to kiss his kid brother, who was now well in his middle age, like Paul.

Cole was waiting patiently for his own Paul Ricciardi make out time. The seasoned law enforcement man obliged.

The three alternated for a few minutes, until Cole slipped off to go shower.

"He's something else, isn't he?" John said, his chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked over at his naked brother. For all they'd shared this was something special.

Paul looked at John, unable to resist admiring how goddamn handsome and hunky the other Ricciardi was. "John, what the hell just happened?" he asked.

John scooted in, reaching over to pull Paul's waist toward him. For all that had just gone down, this felt as intimate and naughty as any of it. "Paul, I thought you were the smart one in the family. I'm pretty sure you know."

Paul shook his head. "I guess I'm 'Uncle Paul' from now on out, huh?"

John smirked. He loved feeling Paul's hairy bulk against his own sweaty, muscular body that was covered with some of Cole's recent seed. "You have a say in the matter," John clarified. "But the kid would be thrilled."

Paul smirked. "In that case, 'Uncle Paul' it is," he muttered, bringing in his mouth closer to John's. "Now... how bout those lessons you promised.?"

THE END

[lick-me-lennon22]

How they'd comfort you after a SH episode

(thank you to anon for this request!! I know this is a sensitive subject for many so I understand the decision to skip this one ❣️ those who choose to read on, I hope you enjoy!)

⚠️⚠️⚠️ TW: SELF-HARM ⚠️⚠️⚠️

John

John is immediately panicked and uneasy at the sight of you this way

he's seen his fair share of blood, but never that of someone he loves so dearly

for once he's at a loss, no longer his usual smooth and confident self

he stumbles over his words and mumbles reassurances under his breath, hoping to provide you some sense of comfort while he gets his thoughts in order

he knows this isn't something he can joke his way around

John cleans and bandages you up, having done the same for himself countless times following the frequent fights of his youth

he gives you one of his T-shirts to borrow and settles onto the bed next to you

he shares his own thoughts and struggles with you, wanting you to feel less alone

John doesn't have much to offer in the way of coping strategies or outlets, as he isn't exactly the best at managing his own emotions

instead he rubs your back and shushes you, rambling and sharing mindless stories to take your mind off of things until you're able to drift off to sleep

Paul

Paul's doe eyes fill with tears at the sight of your fresh wounds, threatening to spill over before he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves

he mentally scolds himself, knowing he has to hold it together so as not to upset his beloved any further

he takes a gentle and nurturing approach the delicate situation at hand, slowly stepping closer to you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder

Paul offers endless words of reassurance, telling you how beautiful you are and reminding you that you're the light of his life and the strongest person he knows

he helps you clean up if you allow him, gingerly patting your skin with a dampened cloth

he places gentle kisses on your forehead and strokes your hair, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears as he finally lets his own slip down his ruddy cheeks

when you're clean and settled into bed, Paul picks up his guitar and begins to strum

he plays you a soothing melody, hoping the soft chords and lilt of his voice will lull you to sleep so you can rest and recover

George

George approaches the situation with a calm but serious demeanor

he is deeply concerned for you, but understands your pain and doesn't want to push you to open up to him before you're ready

he soaks a washcloth in cool water and dabs it on your skin to clean you up

he'll fetch you a clean set of clothing to make sure you're comfortable and cared for

though he doesn't want to pry, a quiet voice in his head urges him to help you work through your overwhelming emotions

the man of few words suddenly finds much to say, offering wisdom from his own spiritual practices and beliefs

he emphasizes the importance of finding inner peace and grounding yourself before granting you some time to process his words

when you're ready, George walks you through a guided meditation and some mindful breathing techniques, hoping to bring you some peace of mind

Ringo

Ringo is devastated and doesn't quite understand the situation or what may have led you to do this

he wonders how the one he adores so much could ever want to cause such harm to themselves

he offers to do or bring you anything you need, desperate to remedy the situation

he rifles through the bathroom cabinet for bandages, finally coming across a small metal tin

Ringo rushes over to kneel by your side and begins to place the adhesive bandages over your wounds

being the supportive partner he is, he's so blinded by his dedication to caring for you that he doesn't seem to notice the bandages are far too small

when he gets to the fifth one you fail to stifle a laugh, amused by his determination to make them fit

his face lights up when he hears you laugh - the most melodic sound he could ever imagine

he tries to cheer you up with his usual nonsensical Ringo-isms, lightening your mood and easing your worries with talk of silly fantasies and reminders of your happiest memories together

[wqintraining]

NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES -SEASON 2, EPISODE 11

We open at the school, where it's the final week of the school year, and everyone is getting ready for Summer. 

Among the adults, Northstar, Nightcrawler, Dani, Karma, and Warpath are toasting to actually keeping this place going for an entire school year, without it getting blown up. Jean-Paul calls for Allison to come and join them, but she's on the phone, excited as it seems she finally got a new agent, and he has good news for her. 

Cutting to the kids, Sofia is live streaming in her room, modeling bathing suits for her followers and letting them vote on which ones she should wear. She gets a paid message asking which one Julian likes best. She reminds her followers that they're friends again, but they aren't back together, so his opinion doesn't matter. Even if she wanted to ask, she doesn't even know where he is right now. 

Cut to Julian and Noriko making out on the floor of the Blackbird's cargo bay. They wanted to spice things up a little so they stole the key. Noriko zaps him when he tries to grab her ass. 

Laura is still helping Brian study, and he's actually doing well. Laura nods in approval. 

The Cuckoos, no longer in the med bay, try to say hello to Cessily in the hallway, but she refuses to even speak to them, brushing past them. The sisters hang their heads. 

In Beast's lab, Hank is quizzing Roxy on a vast range of subjects, interspersed with assigning her various tasks to complete as she helps him with a project. Roxy is saying and doing everything right, and loving this. Beast recites a poem and asks Roxy who wrote it, with Bling! disappointed in herself for finally forgetting something. Hank was just messing with her though. That's one of his originals, and he just wanted to know if she liked it. Roxy laughs and punches his shoulder. 

From a happy moment to a solemn one, Kitty is sat down with Sooraya, allowing her to listen to a goodbye recording Storm left for her. She makes sure Sooraya knows she doesn't care about her any less, and that she will always be there for her. She knows she will do great things and hopes she and her mother will be happy together. She also hopes she remembers what she told her about Emma.  Kitty puts an around around the saddened Dust. 

In Emma’s penthouse bedroom, she’s half-asleep and she’s held in the arms of an equally half-asleep Scott, both naked and under the covers, as the sun peaks through her window. 

Scott hums that he should really be getting up for work, but Emma moans back that he should stay. If she’s on a brief leave of absence until Charles arrives to help her, he should stay with her. Scott, nibbling at her neck, would love nothing more, but with Storm gone, they can’t take time off together. 

EMMA: “Mm. How inconsiderate of her.” 

Emma senses Scott’s mood shifting at her mocking of his friend and turns over to put her hands on his face. 

EMMA: “Are you about to get all mopey over me driving away your wife and closest friend again?” 

Scott looks hurt for a moment, before smirking and kissing her on the lips. As they make out and are on the verge of resuming having sex, there’s a knock on the door. A female staff member informs Ms. Frost that breakfast is ready. 

As Emma thanks her, Scott compliments the way she employs visible mutants almost exclusively for her personal staff, as no one else would hire them. Emma laments that she, unfortunately, can’t employ all of them, simply not enough work to be done, but that’s why she lets the rest of the interested clean ones simply live in her homes around the world, provided they follow her rules. 

SCOTT, crawling out of bed: “You are just full of surprises.” 

EMMA, smacking his ass: “Who doesn’t love surprises?” 

In a prison, John Sublime is seated in his cell, frustrated and rapidly tapping his foot. As he does this the room is blown off the facility. Sublime, fearful, looks up, and finds two sentinels hovering above him. 

Sublime mocks the irony of what he deems his situation to be. Machines designed to kill Mutants are about to kill the ultimate enemy of those vermin. He shuts his eyes and accepts his incoming death, but it doesn’t come. As Sublime opens his eyes, one of the sentinels is offering a hand for him to stand on. They aren’t here to kill him, they’re here to save him. 

Sublime gets on and laughs maniacally, as they fly away. 

At the school, Scott and Bobby are walking through the hallway, trying to decide on a new team member. Scott thinks there’s no one who could possibly replace Storm, so they just need to focus on who’s qualified, and what unique skills they have to offer, rather than questioning if they meet Ororo’s standard. 

SCOTT: “Maybe Northstar. He’s been itching for a spot all semester, and right now the only team member we have capable of immediate response to a far-off crisis is a demon we can’t trust. We could use a speedster.” 

Despite Scott’s logic, Bobby shoots that down. He’s JUST starting to figure out this whole, “Might Be Gay” thing, and he doesn’t need to be further confused by spending time with the bitchiest flaming gay he knows. 

SCOTT, teasing: “Afraid he’ll hit on you?” 

BOBBY: “As a matter of fact, yes.” 

Bobby thinks Storm had the right idea. They need more of the old crew to balance out their former supervillain, former assassin, and current evil overlord. 

BOBBY: “How about Colossus? We need a new powerhouse, he synergizes with Kitty, he could help control Magik, and–”

Scott cuts Bobby off. 

SCOTT: “No.” 

BOBBY: “Huh?” 

SCOTT: “No Colossus.” 

BOBBY: “What are you–?” 

SCOTT: “No. Colossus.” 

Bobby doesn’t entirely get it, but he shrugs it off. 

BOBBY: “Maybe Bishop?” 

Before Scott can give his thoughts on that, he receives an alert on his phone. They need to move. There have been sentinel sightings. 

In Noriko and Sofia's room, Nori is panic-cramming, shouting as she questions why she didn't study earlier. Sofia, who's still streaming, pans her phone over to her so her viewers can witness her freakout. 

NORIKO: "PRINCESS, YOU GET THAT CAMERA OUT OF MY FACE, OR I WILL FRY ALL OF YOUR SHOES!"

Sofia giggles, turning the camera back to herself. 

SOFIA: "Would you all believe she used to be polite, courteous, and a good student?"

NORIKO, off-screen: "I regret telling any of you assholes anything!"

Sofia teasingly blows a kiss at her. 

Sofia thinks of what she was talking about before, and gets back to it: the end of year dance. She starts talking about how she has a few dresses on hold and she's trying to figure out which one to get, but her fans do not care one bit. All they want to know is if Julian has asked her out yet. 

She tells them all directly that, no, he has not asked her. He respects the boundaries they set. Naturally, the chat only finds that to be romantic. Sofia insists that respecting basic boundaries is not praiseworthy, but the chat just fills up with red and gold hearts. 

Sofia softly mumbles her annoyance in Spanish, only for the chat to progress to saying she should just ask HIM out. 

Noriko's ears perk up at Sofia's reaction to this. 

Sofia says she can't, but she blushes as she says she doesn't even want to. The chat keeps up the pressure, no matter how much Sofia tries to argue she shouldn't, but her fans hit at the heart of the matter: if they're already spending time together again, if they trust each other again, and if they love each other, they should be together. 

Also they're just stupid hot together. 

SOFIA: "...love?"

Sofia takes a moment to think, but ultimately cheers that, yes, she's going to ask Julian out!

A stray burst of electricity blows up Sofia's phone. 

SOFIA: "Noriko!"

NORIKO, as red-faced as Sofia: "Sorry!"

As Scott gets ready to take off in the Blackbird, he's joined by Wolverine, who notices they're all on their own. 

LAURA: "This is it?"

SCOTT: "Emma is off-duty, Sunspot and Magik aren't picking up, and Iceman and Kitty are already en route to the other location sentinels were spotted. This will have to be enough."

Laura snarls. She thought there weren’t any sentinels left. Cyclops thoughts so too, but there’s always someone who’s going to make more. There will never not be humans desperate to see them dead. 

LAURA: “...but we don’t kill them back.” 

SCOTT: “Not unless we have no choice.” 

LAURA: “Already a step past where you started.” 

Scott says nothing to that as the plane takes off. 

Laura continues to grind her teeth. These monstrosities are never hurting her friends again. Ever. 

At the Grindstone, Mercury, Dust, and Bling! are having coffee. In the background, Luna is receiving a shipment of party supplies. Roxy thanks her for letting her rent out the place on Friday night to celebrate after finals. Luna says it's no big deal. She certainly offered more than she makes on a normal night. 

LUNA: "Honestly, I'm not sure this place would even still be open if you girls and your friends weren't such caffeine addicts." Luna starts walking off with the shipment. She turns back to the girls. "Seriously, you should all talk to a doctor about that."

Once she's out of sight, the girls all sip their coffee. 

Roxy's positive mood shifts as she sighs. Soo asks her what's wrong, with Cessily explaining for her girlfriend that it's about Dr. McCoy, and how he isn't going to be returning after the Summer.  

Roxy follows up that the rest of the friend group has Emma and Dani and Kitty and even kinda Cyclops because they're the X-Men in Training. But she only really has Beast. He's the only adult here who's really invested in her, the one who’s helped her find a whole new part of herself, and she doesn’t want to lose him. 

Sooraya can sympathize. Yes, the others she mentioned care about her, but she isn’t blind. Julian and Sofia are Ms. Frost’s priorities, Noriko and Sofia Ms. Moonstar’s, and Noriko Ms. Pryde’s. Storm didn’t have a squad, but she had her. 

Cessily tries to cheer her up, saying at least the timing isn’t too bad. Her mom is going to be flying in soon! 

SOORAYA, shaken by Ororo’s words: “Yes. She will be. Ms. Frost has made all the accommodations.” 

Roxy, seeing that Soo may actually be doing worse than herself right now and could use a distraction, recommends an album to listen to. It’s too late for Ms. Munroe, but she’s going to see if she can convince Dr. McCoy to stay. By the time she’s done that, she wants to know everything Soo thought about the album. Nothing destresses the mind like music. Soo isn’t sure, not exactly a fan of American music, but Roxy promises she’ll like what she has in mind. Sooraya reluctantly agrees. 

Roxy asks Cessily if she’s down to help her with Beast, and, to her surprise, Cessily says no. She still needs to train more for finals. She’s oddly tense as she says this, but there are enough emotions flying around already that the others don’t push. Roxy just wishes her luck and kisses her cheek.

The three all drink. 

ROXY: “You know coffee CAN be bad for mental health.” 

BEAT.

The three continue to drink. 

In Milan, Italy, a sentinel flies over the city’s skyline. Running away from it is a pre-teen boy made of rocks, dressed in baggy basketball attire. At the same time he’s running away in terror, he shouts out to the sentinel unconvincingly that if it comes down here and fights him man to robot, he’ll kick its ass. 

A blast from the sentinel blows up the street underneath the boy and sends him flying. Before it can finish him off, however, the sentinel itself is blasted back by the Blackbird. 

SANTO, fleeing: “Wooh! Take that punk!”

Laura tells Scott to drop her on its head and let her deal with it, but Cyclops doesn’t want to rush in. For all they know, this could be another one of those more advanced sentinels Nova had under her command. Laura questions how the X-Men ended up killing those. 

CYCLOPS: “We didn’t. Jean did.” 

Before they can make a move, the Blackbird is contacted. 

SUBLIME, over the coms: “Hello, X-Men. Don’t mind me. I was just having some fun while I waited for your arrival.” 

CYCLOPS, growling: “Sublime.”

John doesn’t know who else is aboard the plane, but he’s happy to see Scott. He needs to pay him back for last time. 

JOHN: “I hope Emma is with you too. All of my remaining U-Men are still dying to be telepaths. If she isn’t, perhaps you could be a sport and return No-Girl.” 

Before Scott can say anything, Laura shouts that this sick freak isn’t ever seeing her again, and she isn’t going to let him ever cut up another little girl. Sublime laughs.

SUBLIME: “Is that Wolverine? Oh, don’t be afraid. I’m only interested in cutting up real girls.” 

Laura snarls as Sublime laughs. Cyclops asks how he escaped prison and built sentinels, but Sublime doesn’t “feel like answering”. He’d much rather get to the killing. 

The sentinel transforms, indeed revealing it to be a super sentinel. It flies toward the Blackbird, but before it can reach it, Laura jumps out the door and is blasted toward the death machine by Cyclops, claws out. 

On the basketball court, Julian is both playing and training, as he tries to dribble the ball via telekinesis, without projecting his all-too-visible green energy. It’s straining on his head even to get started and, as soon as he starts making headway, Noriko speeds in, completely breaking his concentration. 

Julian stumbles back, Noriko teasing how he somehow still isn’t used to that. As Julian catches his breath, he whispers in frustration that he can’t make out right now; he wants to be able to show off contactless telekinesis at finals. 

NORIKO: “Don’t worry, that’s not why I’m here. Cause we’re done.” 

Julian questions what she’s on about. He KNOWS she’s been having a good time. And yes, she has, but that doesn’t matter. 

NORIKO: “Sofia is planning on asking you out, and you are going to say yes.” 

Julian’s face lights up. He KNEW he was winning her back. Noriko should have seen them when they were fighting Ms. Frost together. It was just like before. 

JULIAN: “But why does that mean we need to stop?” 

Noriko slaps Julian. 

JULIAN: “You know I never hit you.” 

NORIKO: “I never deserve it.” 

Noriko explains that, no, Sofia is not the kind of girl who’d be okay with her boyfriend having a sidepiece, even if they were just making out, nor does she herself WANT to be a sidepiece. And, even if they were both okay with that, they’d need to admit to Sofia what they’ve been doing, and Sofia would be hurt by both of them not telling her sooner, and possibly hate them for making out with her boyfriend and not waiting like they said, respectively. She’s not hurting her best friend like that. 

Julian thinks about it and admits she’s right. God, he can’t wait for her to ask. He knows it’ll be magic. 

JULIAN: “But…if we’re not having a fling anymore.” Julian smirks and charges up with energy. “Then it’s back to basics.” 

Noriko takes a stance and lights herself up, smirking back. 

NORIKO: “Bring it.” 

In Beast’s lab, we’re introduced to Forge, as Hank shows him around where he’ll be working next semester. Forge immediately starts complaining about and criticizing various processes and, in his mind, outdated tech, Hank uses. Sitting down in Hank’s chair, he doesn’t even think THAT is comfortable. 

BEAST: “It provides extra support for your back. And I shouldn’t be surprised a lesser genius like yourself can’t understand why things are set up this way.” 

FORGE: “A “lesser-genius”, huh? My mind is constantly innovating. You’re just a book nerd.” 

BEAST: “Why you–” 

Before these nerds can continue to argue, Roxy knocks on the open door, asking if now is a good time. 

Beast smiles and welcomes her in, introducing her to Forge as his prized pupil. Roxy is honored to meet him, and Forge, a fan of her parents, is happy to meet her too. 

FORGE: “I hope you haven’t learned TOO much from Fuzzy.” 

BEAST: “Oh she has. Which is why she has SO much to teach you.” 

Roxy mumbles to herself this is really awkward as Forge sees himself out. He’s looking forward to working with Bling! next semester. 

As Hank sits down and explains to Roxy how important it is to find a chair with proper support, he asks what she needs. 

ROXY: “I…I don’t want to work with Forge next year.” 

Beast laughs. Even she can tell he isn’t as smart as he thinks. Roxy shakes her head no. That isn’t it. She just doesn’t want him to leave. 

ROXY: “I’ve learned so much from you, and I don’t want that to stop.” 

Beast gets back up and assures her he’ll never stop teaching her if that’s what she’d like. The wonders of modern technology can make it seem like he’s right here with her. Roxy says that isn’t enough; she wants to keep working side by side with him. 

Hank is sorry, but that isn’t possible. She’s a student, and she needs to stay here. And he doesn’t feel like he belongs here anymore. As if there was still any doubt, Storm’s departure made it clear his time was done as well.  

Roxy tries to sway him, telling him how she gets how Ms. Frost and Mr. Summers might seem kinda shady, especially after what just happened, but he shouldn’t leave because of them. And she knows they aren’t all bad. Ms. Frost has been nothing but good to her friends, and she’s even helped her and her family. Beast sighs and shakes his head. He really is sorry. He’s come to care about her a great deal, but he honestly hadn’t realized she’d become so attached. 

ROXY: “You didn’t realize?! You’re supposed to be the smartest! All my life, I’ve been the celebrity hip-hop girl. And I love that. But you showed me I could be something more. I’d never thought my brain was anything special, I’d never put any thought into building new things. And now I can’t even sleep without a journal next to my bed to write down ideas.  I need you to keep teaching me more. Please. Don’t go.” 

Hank isn’t sure what to say, and before he can think of anything, his phone rings. For a second, we see the name of the person calling him is, “Crystal”. He’s sorry, but he has to take it. It’s important. 

Bling! glares at him. 

BLING!: “Sure it is.” 

Roxy walks out, furious with her mentor. 

In Italy, Sublime’s sentinel swats at Laura, but she digs her claws right into its hands and sticks onto it. Sublime mocks her, questioning what exactly she plans on doing next. 

Elsewhere, it’s shown that Sublime is remotely controlling both this sentinel and one doing battle against Iceman and Kitty, from a tablet. He tells her that he’s aware of how these sentinels performed the last time they were active, and he knows there isn’t a damn thing Cyclops or Wolverine can do to stop it. 

SUBLIME: “Iceman, perhaps, but from that fight will at least come data.” 

As Laura pulls one of her hands out of the machine and tries to climb, Sublime casually attempts to shake her off and let her plummet to the ground. Laura’s attempts to stay clung to the sentinel are further deterred as Cyclops fires multiple missiles at it. Laura falls as the sentinel is knocked back, only barely able to cling onto the sentinel’s foot. 

Sublime is surprised Cyclops would do that. 

SUBLIME: “Since when does the X-Men’s noble leader endanger his teammates?” 

CYCLOPS, while Laura struggles to resume her climb: “I’m not in the mood for questions either. Unless you’re ready to tell me who you even are.” 

Sublime’s response is to hit the Blackbird with a surprise attack, sending it into a spin. While Laura takes notice of this, she has nowhere to dodge as the sentinel’s extended arm knocks her off of itself. Laura is sent falling, and Scott struggles to keep the Blackbird from crashing into Milan. 

Outside the school on one of the benches, Sofia is grinning at her phone as she works to get everything set up for what she has planned. Notably, it’s a different phone than the one Noriko blew up earlier. 

“Studying hard?” 

Dani approaches her from behind and sits down next to Sofia, as she sticks her phone in her purse. 

Sofia laughs and says no, she's all set for finals already. She's going to be asking Julian out later, and she wants to make sure it's spectacular, as she'll be doing it live on stream. 

DANI: "That sounds ridiculous, but also perfect for you two."

Dani still doesn't have the warmest feelings toward Julian, but she's happy that the two have worked out everything that went on between them and, to his credit, he's never hesitated to throw himself head first at any villain he's encountered. 

DANI: "Then again, that's also why he ends up in the infirmary so much."

Dani isn't surprised that Sofia is all studied up while so many of the other kids are cramming. She's always been responsible and on top of things, always working as hard as she has to to achieve her goals. The girl who couldn't even fly properly when she first came here may now be the most talented among the most talented squad. 

DANI: "And all this while having been through so much before you came here, and more than almost anyone since coming here. I'm so proud of you."

SOFIA, loving the praise but also embarrassed: "Ms. Moonstar, stop…"

DANI: "Afraid I can't. We all have our eyes on you, kid. And now’s the time to show us exactly what you've learned."

Sofia grins excitedly until Dani harshly pats her on the back. 

DANI: "Don't get too distracted by your man." 

Sofia smirks at her. 

SOFIA: "Were you always focused on becoming an X-Man? Or was there anything between you and Cannonball or Sunspot?"

DANI: "Nothing that I would ever tell you about."

In Milan, Laura rolls around in mid-air, teeth grit, as she tries to make as effective a landing as possible. Cyclope, meanwhile, is struggling to keep the Blackbird from crashing into the terrified civilians below. 

Sublime laughs as he watches this, hoping the Blackbird crashing kills “Rock Boy”. That would be hilarious. He briefly turns his attention to his second sentinel, which is battling Iceman on his own, while Kitty has moved to evacuate the immediate area. 

SUBLIME: “Cocky bastard.” 

Laura braces for impact, but just before she can collide with the ground, Scott is able to gain control of the Blackbird and swoop in to save her, directing the plane under her so she can stick her claws through the roof. 

Sublime slams his fist in disappointment and growls at Laura that she’ll be a stain on the pavement sooner or later. It’s bad enough Mutants exist at all, but that humans are actively cloning more of them is far too much. 

Laura scratches her claws against the Blackbird. 

CYCLOPS, over coms: “You okay?” 

WOLVERINE: “Never.” 

CYCLOPS: “Right, forgot who I was talking to.” 

Scott’s put together a plan, but he does have to ask something to make sure it will work. 

CYCLOPS: “You know how to fly this thing?” 

Laura smirks. 

In Roxy's room, she's by herself, sitting in bed, in a bad mood, surrounded by stuffed animals and strumming on her guitar. 

There's a rapid knock on the door. Roxy tells them to come in. An overjoyed Sooraya enters. She listened to the bands she sent her and LOVED them. She'd never even heard of "Arabic Rock". 

Roxy's still in a funk so she can't share in Soo's joy, but she is happy for her. Soo sees something is wrong and asks her what happened with Beast. And why is she surrounded by stuffed animals?

ROXY: "Pixie went to a party with some of her friends. She didn't want to leave me alone."

Roxy tells Sooraya that she couldn't convince Dr. McCoy to stay. Even when she poured her heart out and told him how much he means to her. He sucks! 

Sooraya thinks about what she should stay, before asking if she's talking to Cessily about this. Roxy huphs no. She's been too stressed over finals to spare her a moment. She doesn't even get why. She's been helping her, and she knows she'll do fine! 

SOORAYA: "I see. And did Dr. McCoy say why he is so adamant about quitting?"

ROXY: "Nothing I didn't already know. He bailed on me to take a phone call. Probably his girlfriend or something."

Sooraya tells her that doesn't sound very conclusive. Maybe she should try again. Roxy bristles. Soo rolls her eyes. 

SOORAYA: "Or maybe it was important because he's one of the most politically active X-Men?"

Roxy says maybe, but it doesn't change anything. He's more annoyed with Mr. Summers and Ms. Frost than he likes her. More than he wants to see her flourish. Going back wouldn't change anything. 

Sooraya puts together the problem and sighs. 

SOORAYA: "You've never been told "No", have you?"

ROXY, off guard: "HUH?"

Soo explains that she's spent more time around people with affluent backgrounds this past year than she ever would have wanted to. And compared to most of them…

SOORAYA: "Megan is eccentric in other ways, Sofia doesn't really come from that world, and Noriko is Noriko"...

Roxy is much more normal and down to Earth. But she's still incredibly privileged. Rich and famous parents who love and accept every part of her at home, and a cool, popular celebrity everywhere else. Yes, obviously, it's not all been great for her, no one here has it easy, but she's never failed to get what she wants from the people whose opinions she actually cares about. 

Roxy tries to argue but…

ROXY: "That's not..I don't…shit."

Soo tells her that they can't always get what they want, and even if someone does care about her, they may still need to prioritize themselves; that isn't wrong. 

SOORAYA: "Maybe for a parent, but not a teacher. He's had students before us, and he will have students after us."

Roxy sulks and mumbles that he did say he wouldn't mind continuing to teach her remotely. Soo encourages her to accept. 

Roxy processes all of this and smiles. 

SOORAYA: "All settled?"

ROXY, smiling: "Not just yet." 

Iceman continues to fight one of the super sentinels on his own, annoying Sublime as it’s clearly losing. If the most advanced sentinels to date can’t even lay a hand on a single X-Man, regardless of their power, maybe he should toss his own hat into the ring. Certainly, he could built something better. 

Elsewhere, the Blackbird circles the other sentinel, with Sublime failing to strike it down again. Sublime resumes his taunting tactic, his focus remaining on Laura, who is still riding on top of the plane. 

SUBLIME: “I know your creators, X-23. I could appreciate some of the fine work being done at The Facility, but they failed to listen to my warning when it came to making you. A Mutant’s natural state is to be an enemy of humanity, but even if it wasn’t, they would have found better results by taking Wolverine’s genes and putting them in a human. Perhaps someone more competent could have saved Genosha. At the very least, if you hadn’t been born…your mother would still be alive.” 

Laura roars as the Blackbird circles behind the sentinel’s head, jumping onto it. Sublime grins at having baited her right back where he wants her. With a press of a button, energy fields surround both sentinels. This is their ultimate ability. Channeling all of their power around themselves, before releasing it in waves of mess destruction. Nova wasn’t exactly considered with civilian casualties when designing them, and neither is he. 

Delighting him in the moment as they charge, Laura is caught in the energy field, pieces of her flesh and costume rapidly burning off. Sublime laughs and questions what Cyclops will do next. Scott doesn’t respond, nor does he move. 

Laura grunts in pain as the sentinels charge and tension mounts, until…

SCOTT: “GO!” 

Moving as a blur as if not in agony, Wolverine  Laura claws away at the outer armor of the sentinel’s head, before leaping around the giant robot and doing the same to its arms, legs, and torso. With all the energy that re-enforces the exterior being projected outward, it’s just metal. Strong metal, but not stronger than adamantium. 

When she’s done, the half-still-regenerating-her-flesh Laura leaps off the sentinel and into the opened door of the Blackbird, where she swiftly switches places with Cyclops. 

Sublime questions what the Hell they’re doing. Cyclops smugly tells him they were able to learn everything about these sentinels from the wreckage Phoenix left behind. He knew the best way for him and Laura to beat the sentinel would be to bait out its strongest attack, have Wolverine weaken its armor, and then finish it himself. All the while Sublime didn’t even notice, that he’d been slowly leading them away from the populated area below. 

CYCLOPS: “You just made two critical errors. Thinking I don’t plan for everything.” Laura fully heals and grins. “And thinking a little pain will ever put down Wolverine.” 

Cyclops on his com asks Kitty if her area is clear, which she confirms. He tells Bobby to go crazy. 

An infuriated Sublime, refusing to lose again, fires off both sentinels’ attacks. The energy waves are met by a massive spiked glacier cutting through one and annihilating the sentinel on Iceman’s end, and the uncovered eyes of Cyclops on the other. While Scott’s full power doesn’t overwhelm the sentinels’ attack as easily as Iceman’s counter, the end result is ultimately the same. 

Sublime roars in rage as he throws his tablet on the ground. It doesn’t break though, allowing Cyclops, as he gets his visor back on, to tell him that he’s next. 

 In Julian's room, he's lying down in bed, cracking his arms and neck. He enjoys fighting Noriko, but she has started hitting like a truck. At least he can still mess her up as much as ever right back. Before he can get too settled, a breeze brushes past him. A smirk spreads across his face as he floats up and feels it coming from underneath the door. Opening it, he expects to find Sofia but no one is present. Instead, he feels another breeze. He realizes she’s telling him which way to go.

To his surprise, the breeze ends up leading him to the danger room. Unsure if she can even hear him, he calls out to Sofia that the place is still shut down. Over the winds, a whisper is carried into Julian’s ear. 

SOFIA: “Since when are you against breaking a rule?” 

Julian laughs and uses his telekinesis to forcibly open the doors to the danger room’s control room. He grins as he sees Sofia seated inside, smiling right back at him. Unusually for her, she isn’t wearing makeup. 

SOFIA: “Took you long enough.” 

Julian asks Sofia what this is about. Is it what it seems like or…? 

Sofia stands up and tells him she had this whole plan for how she wanted to do this. She’d already gotten Rubbermaid to agree to film them, she’d picked out her dress for the dance so she could wear it now…but she decided to just keep this between them instead. 

SOFIA: “It’s like I told you. If I have this wonderful place and my friends and…you…then I don’t need to put my whole life online. I don’t need to be someone I’m not.” 

JULIAN: “So I’m more than a friend then?” 

Sofia rolls her eyes at that being all he has to say as she approaches him and asks him if he remembers the last time they were here. Julian does: it was when he tried to get back together with her, and she, with good reason, broke his heart. 

SOFIA: “Yes, it was.” She takes his metal hands. “Ask me again.” 

JULIAN, the happiest man in the world at this moment: “Ask you again?” 

Sofia nods. 

Julian takes a telekinetically enhanced deep breath, making Sofia giggle. 

JULIAN: “Will you give me one more chance, Sofia? One more chance to be the man you deserve?” 

Sofia smirks as the music swells. 

SOFIA: “No.” 

Julian’s face crumbles and the music stops. 

JULIAN: “What? But you just…”

Sofia cuts Julian off and the music picks right back up as she kisses him. Julian takes her in his arms, with one hand on her head and one on her ass. They make out passionately. 

SOFIA, pulling back, looking right into his eyes: “I’m sorry. You deserved one last punishment.” 

JULIAN, laughing: “And you...have never looked more beautiful.” 

The two resume making out, as tk energy and wind effortlessly close the danger room’s doors. They only get more excited as the lights unexpectedly go out. 

On the Blackbird, Laura compliments Cyclops’ strategy and the power of his Mutation. She can see how witnessing the latter won Ms. Frost over. 

LAURA: “When we find Sublime, will he experience that as well?” 

Scott tells Laura he’s sorry. She came to him to learn right from wrong, when he was still in the process of learning that himself. And he thinks he finally has the answer…for himself. Killing is unacceptable unless absolutely necessary. For himself. Everyone’s morality is different, and each person needs to figure out what’s right for them. He shouldn’t have tried forcing his strict morals onto her, but help her find what was right for herself. 

As an X-Man, his rules for when killing is acceptable apply. But he’s not going to judge her for deeming a situation “necessary” when he wouldn’t. 

Laura keeps her thoughts on all that in her head, but she thanks him. Not just for the apology, but for teaching her at all. She isn’t the person she was when she first came to the school. She probably wouldn’t have been able to maintain the relationships she has for this long without him. Logan told her she was more than a weapon. Cyclops has made her believe it. 

Scott is sure to make sure she gives enough credit to herself. She’s been the one doing all the work. And she hasn’t just improved socially. As a fighter, she’s exponentially stronger than when they first met. Being on the X-Men and dealing with the types of scenarios they face has really–” 

Scott trails off. Laura questions what’s going on. Scott shakes his head and says it’s nothing. He just had an idea. He smiles as the Blackbird flies into the sunset. 

We enter a montage as finals arrive at last, the kids all taking their exams and undergoing their performance evaluations with their powers. During this, we see Julian and Sofia back together and the rest of their friends happy for them, save for Surge, who’s clearly forcing herself to smile. The montage ends with kids, days later, gathered in the hallway to see the class rankings that have been posted. None of the main cast are here, save for an especially eager Cessily. 

We briefly get to see who made the top 10 in both academics and performance. 

ACADEMICS:

QUENTIN QUIRE ( ORIGINALLY JEAN'S SQUAD, TRANSFERRED TO KARMA'S)

ROXANNE WASHINGTON (BEAST'S SQUAD)

SOFIA MANTEGA (DANI AND EMMA'S SQUAD)

SARAH VALE (BEAST'S SQUAD)

THE STEPFORD CUCKOOS (EMMA'S SQUAD)

SOORAYA QADIR (DANI AND EMMA'S SQUAD)

PARAS GAVASKAR (BEAST'S SQUAD)

JULIAN KELLER (DANI AND EMMA'S SQUAD)

LAURA KINNEY (SQUADLESS)

HISAKO ICHIKI (CYCLOPS' SQUAD)

PRACTICAL EXAMS: 

THE STEPFORD CUCKOOS* (EMMA'S SQUAD)

SOFIA MANTEGA (DANI AND EMMA'S SQUAD)

JULIAN KELLER (DANI AND EMMA'S SQUAD)

NORIKO ASHIDA (DANI AND EMMA'S SQUAD)

QUENTIN QUIRE (FORMERLY JEAN'S SQUAD, TRANSFERRED KARMA’S)

SOORAYA QADIR (DANI AND EMMA'S SQUAD)

HISAKO ICHIKI (CYCLOPS' SQUAD)

VICTOR BORKOWSKI (NORTHSTAR'S SQUAD)

BEN HAMMIL (NIGHTCRAWLER's SQUAD)

DALLAS GIBSON (CYCLOPS' SQUAD)

*Laura was not allowed to be counted

Cessily, seeing this, punches the wall and hangs her head, tearing up. 

CESSILY: “I will catch up.” 

The Cuckoos arrive and notice Cessily having a rough time and consider approaching her, but they turn away, knowing she wouldn’t speak to them anyway. 

 In Beast’s lab, Hank is packing up the last of his things. As he sighs to himself that he hopes this plan can return to being the home he once knew one day, Roxy enters. 

Hank puts his things down, happy to see her come back, and congratulates her on being salutatorian. Although to be fully honest, he’d expected and hoped for her to be #1. 

ROXY, shrugging: “History class messed me up a little.” 

Beast asks if she’s here to say goodbye. Roxy says “Yes…kind of”. She wanted to see him off, but she also has three requests. One, that he continues to tutor her remotely. Two, that he’ll stick talk about his projects with her and ask for her input. And three, that after graduation, and maybe college, she can come to work for him. 

Beast is flattered. He of course is happy to oblige all three of her requests, but the last one surprises him. He’d have thought she’d want to follow in her parents’ footsteps. Roxy says she does. But she’s not exactly planning on going into the superhero game like her friends, she figures she can be a celebrity by day, scientist by night. 

ROXY: “And before you say anything, yes, I know how entitled that sounds.” 

Hank shakes his head. He doesn’t think that sounds entitled at all. He just sees a young woman who knows exactly what she’s capable of. 

HANK: “And teaching you that will always be what I take the most from my resumed time here.” 

Exchanging smiles, Roxy and Hank shake hands. 

As Roxy exits the lab, she's met by Soo, who asks how it went. Roxy confirms that everything is great, and thanks her for her help.

ROXY: "Hey, would you and your mom want to come stay with my family for the Summer?"

Sooraya is shocked by this offer, but Roxy explains that she noticed she seemed hesitant about accepting the housing Emma set up, and it's not like she doesn't have the space. Sooraya isn't sure it's right to accept the offer, but Roxy tells her Cess is already going to be staying with her, and the three of them can have so much fun.

After taking a moment to think about it, Sooraya happily accepts.

In a hotel suite, Sofia and Julian are in bed together. Light cracks through the curtains and Sofia is snuggled up against Julian’s chest. 

SOFIA: “I cannot believe we missed out on seven months of this.” 

JULIAN: “As if I couldn’t hate myself for being an idiot more.” 

Julian kisses the crown of her head. 

SOFIA, completely at peace: “I love you. Idiot or not.” 

JULIAN, equally peaceful and without hesitation: “I love you too.” 

The two share a quick kiss. 

Sofia stretches her arms as she yawns. Julian notices there’s a new charm on the bracelet she always wears. She explains that her old friend, Derek, used to bring her back charms from wherever he traveled with her father for business. Ms. Frost must have remembered she’d said something about that, as she gave her this after she got back from France. 

JULIAN, as Sofia plays with the bracelet: “It was a gift from your mom, right?” 

SOFIA: “Yes. The last thing she ever gave me. Before…” 

Julian pulls her nice and snug into his arms, not about to let her spiral. 

JULIAN: “Before she passed away. And if she were still alive, she’d be the most proud woman in the world.” 

A part of Sofia wants to spiral, and yet she can’t find anything except comfort in this moment. 

Sofia’s phone vibrates. Not wanting to move she blows it over to her. 

She’s received a text message from Dani. The X-Men need to speak to her immediately. 

Wind Dancer, in uniform, arrives in Cyclops' office, where she's greeted by him, Emma, Kitty, Iceman, Wolverine, and Dani. They thank her for coming and she asks what this is about. 

DANI: “Don’t you remember? I said we had our eyes on you.” 

This does not make things any more clear for Sofia. 

Cyclops tells Sofia that, since the kids’ first few weeks here, he’s believed she had the most potential out of any of them. And time after time, she’s proven him right. Always getting stronger, always pushing harder, always being responsible, and always getting back up no matter what life throws at her. And now, she’s finished the school year with the highest combined academic and performance scores. 

KITTY: “There was no actual school when I came here. I learned everything on the job.” 

LAURA: “And I’ve learned more than ever being part of the team.” 

BEAT. 

SOFIA: “What are you all saying?” 

Emma laughs. 

EMMA: “It’s exactly what you’ve been dreaming of, Darling.” 

Scott walks out from behind his desk and holds an X badge out to Sofia. She’s in shock. 

CYCLOPS: “Wind Dancer, we’d like you to join the X-Men. Are you interested?” 

ICEMAN: “No pressure, kid. If you don’t think you’re ready, we can always–” 

SOFIA: “YES!” 

Sofia enthusiastically takes the badge and thanks them all so much for this opportunity. She hugs Dani. Spinning around to see Laura, she asks her if she had anything to do with this. 

LAURA: “Maybe a little.” 

Sofia grins and gives Laura a peck on the cheek. Laura blushes. 

Cyclops tells her this is going to be a lot of work, and it’s going to be more dangerous than anything she’s faced, but they all believe this will make her one of their greatest heroes down the line. 

SOFIA: “I am not afraid. And I won’t let you down! I’m ready for anything.” 

Elsewhere, Sublime is beating himself up over yet another defeat, questioning what he’s supposed to do now. Just then, a third sentinel arrives, hovering over him. Sublime insults the machine. He doesn’t know who’s sending these hunks of junk, but he isn’t interested in playing along with them again. After he’s done with the X-Men, he may just try and find out who’s behind this. 

The sentinel raises its arm and obliterates Sublime with an energy blast. The sentinel then grows out long hair on its head and coats itself in a new, blue armor. 

SENTINEL, in a feminine voice: “My turn.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CAST CHANGE:

Sofia Mantega AKA Wind Dancer is now part of the main X-Men team.

[holfelderwrites124]

Severed Threads

Chapter 5: Respite or Run?

(Chapter 4: Hospitals)

Ian spends the remainder of his time in the emergency room alternating between sipping apple juice and dozing. Aisha and Paul stand out in the hallway for a while, tossing around ideas about helping Ian to understand how unhealthy his relationship with the McCartney’s is. John is left to keep an eye on Ian, a job that he takes to with no prodding. He pulls a chair up beside Ian’s bed and settles down.

Ian seems to not want to talk, and John is fine with that. There’s something comfortable about silence with Ian that doesn’t bother John the way it bothers him with others. It’s like silence with Aisha — something comfortable and calming and familiar. John scrolls through his phone with an occasional glance up at Ian. John tries not to let himself stare too long at those long eyelashes and waves of hair. Now is nowhere near the time to give into that tiny budding crush. Ian is struggling and is in no way shape or form available. Besides, John won’t risk damaging Aisha’s relationship with her best friend. He’s content to be a friend to Ian — if that’s the closest he can get, he’ll be okay.

Eventually, Ian’s labs and blood glucose tests come back in normal range, and Ian is released. All three of them have to argue with Ian for another five minutes until Ian is fully convinced to go home with Aisha and John. Ian fights valiantly, but ultimately his exhaustion sinks in and he just nods wearily.

“Fine. I don’t really care, I just need to lay down,” Ian says with a sigh.

“Then you’re coming to ours,” Aisha says firmly, taking Ian by the arm. “C’mon, let’s get you home where you can rest.”

Ian mutters something about not having a home, but John pretends not to hear it. Aisha side-eyes Ian, but says nothing. Paul just sighs softly and bids the three of them goodnight. He promises to call Ian the following afternoon to get him sorted, and John knows he means to make sure that Ian doesn’t spend another night in his car.

Aisha guides Ian to the car and slides into the back seat with him, passing the keys to John this time. The ride back to their apartment is quiet. Ian drifts off to sleep with his head rolled back on the seat within minutes of leaving the hospital. When they get back to their apartment, Aisha nudges Ian gently to wake him. He startles awake abruptly, eyes wide and panicked. John is certain Ian is about to lose it, but then his gaze lands on John. He relaxes instantly.

“Sorry,” Ian murmurs. “I thought … I just … sorry.”

Aisha pats Ian’s shoulder. “You’re okay, Ian. You’re safe with us.”

Ian offers her a small smile, and slips quietly out of the car.

Aisha sets Ian up in their guest bedroom, handing him a pair of her own flannel pants, as she is a bit shorter than John, and one of John’s t-shirts.

“Feel free to get up and raid the fridge later, Ian,” Aisha tells him. “You didn’t eat much, not really, and I know you have a deficit to make up.”

“Thanks. I’m … I really just need to sleep,” Ian replies quietly, already snuggling under the blankets. “I’m just really tired.”

Aisha smiles at him. “I bet. Sleep, then, and we’ll see you in the morning. Neither of us have shifts tomorrow, so you can sleep in and we’ll still be here.”

Ian nods. “Thanks, Aisha. I … I mean it.”

“I know you do, Ian.” Aisha studies her friend for a moment. She wants to broach the Abby-and-Dennis problem, but noting the way Ian is curling under the blankets, she decides against it. He’s tired, and frankly, so is she. “Sleep well.”

With that, she turns the overhead light off and retreats to find John.

Aisha shuts the door, leaving Ian in the warm glow of the bedside lamp. He stares at it for a moment, wanting it off but too tired and too cozy to reach out of his cocoon to do anything about it. He sighs and tucks his head into his chest. God, it feels good to be fucking alone.

Ian pauses mid-sigh. That can’t be right. He’s been alone the last several nights, and he hated it. He hated the feeling of desolation that enveloped him as he curled up in the back seat of his car. He hated the darkness of the parking garage. He hated how cold and alone he was. He hated … well, everything about it. And yet … for all that, if he looks real close at himself, Ian realizes that he never really wanted Abby or Dennis. Even as he cried himself to sleep those nights, he didn’t long for Abby’s arms or Dennis’s warmth.

Ian huffs and rolls over, pulling the covers up over his head. What the hell is wrong with me? Gone for several days and I didn’t even miss my partners?

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s true. He didn’t miss Abby’s strong grip around his waist, trapping him. He didn’t miss Dennis’s too-warm body — or the hands that always seemed ready to grope and grab at Ian’s own body. He didn’t miss the overcrowded bed, or sleeping on the edge with not enough blankets. At least in his car he had the emergency blanket all to himself.

Ian peeks out from his blanket nest, peering at the soft new-apple green of Aisha’s guest room. It’s calm in here. Ian can hear himself think for the first time in … ages, really. He takes a deep breath, noticing how his lungs fill with air in a clean, calm way. His lungs have felt clogged by Abby’s perfume and Dennis’s cologne for so long, he doesn’t remember when he last felt free to breathe. Aisha’s perfume is gentle, like a summer lilac, and John … John just smells fresh.

Ian sinks into the mattress, letting the softness of it soak into his tired, aching bones. His pain has flared so badly the last few days, from the stress of everything and the stiffness of the car seat. The soft sheets and mattress and blankets are so soothing and all of it is just his. God, he missed having a space that was just his.

He never liked living alone before, his demons were too loud and the apartment was too quiet. But with Abby and Dennis, it’s as if he has no private space. The house is Abby’s and Dennis’s, the kitchen is Abby’s, the living room is Abby’s, the bedroom is Abby and Dennis’s — come to think of it, Ian realizes that most of his personal items are in storage. He has no space in the house. The guest room is for guests. Ian is required to sleep in the main bed, unless he gets too anxious or restless — which has been most nights, lately. Ian doesn’t remember the last time he slept comfortably through the night.

But here, he feels safe. He feels like he has space to breathe. And he knows that he’s not truly alone. Aisha and John are just down the hall — probably talking about him, but that’s okay. They mean well, and he knows they aren’t bitching about him, like Dennis does.

Ian closes his eyes with a sigh. He’s safe. He’s safe, and he can rest. He can sleep. He can settle in, let his bones recover, let his mind wander, let his breathing even out …

Except he can’t.

Five minutes later, ten, fifteen … an hour passes, and Ian’s eyes finally pop open again. He huffs and sits up, rubbing his eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself.

His mind is running, spinning, dancing around what Paul said to him this evening, what Abby screamed at him several days ago, what he knows Aisha and John are whispering about him in the dark. He feels that familiar tug of anxiety in his blood, that swirling, nauseating, growing, churning monster that threatens to overtake him completely.

He needs to move.

Ian tosses the covers back with a sudden violence and rockets to his feet. He needs to move. Pacing won’t be enough. He needs … he needs to run. Ian yanks on the zipper to his go bag and rifles through it until he finds his running shorts and shoes. He grabs a random t-shirt and frantically starts to change.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ian knows that this is a bad idea. He knows that, but every time the urge to run strikes him, he gives in. It’s happened before. Sometimes the anxiety crawls up his veins — he can feel it’s little legs digging into him, inching along. He hates the feeling. The only way to get it to go away is to run — as fast and as far as he can.

Ian knows night running in Philadelphia is not the best idea he’s ever had. But John and Aisha live in a fairly safe neighborhood. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he tugs on his  shoes. He heads to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. If for some reason John or Aisha were to check on him, they might get worried not finding him. Ian sighs. He’s not used to having people care about him. Neither Abby nor Dennis seem to care — if they even know that he’s been gone. Ian can be silent as the night when he wants to be — it’s a learned response from his childhood. He’s used to sneaking around so that he doesn’t get caught.

Ian spots a note pad on the small desk in the room. That will do. He grabs a pen and scribbles down a note: went for a run, be back soon. Text if you need me. He tucks the note under the lamp next to the bed, and then quietly opens the door.

The hallway is dark and quiet, as is the living room and kitchen. Ian makes it to the door, wondering briefly how he’ll get back in. He knows Aisha has a spare key, but where she hides it is beyond him. For a moment, he considers turning back. But the anxiety is still crawling inside of him. Ian shakes his arms violently, trying to get the feeling to recede. He needs to move. With a soft huff, Ian opens the door, slips through, and locks it behind him. He’ll figure out the getting back in thing later. Right now, he needs to move.

John wakes up sometime around three in the morning. He doesn’t usually wake up in the middle of the night, but after lying there for a moment, he realizes that he’s worried about Ian. The night hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to, at all, and John hopes that Ian is sleeping. He tries to convince himself not to worry, but something continues to nag at him. Finally, John rolls his eyes and slides out of bed. If he’s going to just lay here worried about whether or not Ian’s blood sugar dipped again, he might as well check on their guest.

The first thing John notices upon slipping into the hallway is that Ian’s light is still on. Curious, John opens Ian’s door slowly, peering around it and expecting to see Ian curled up in the bed. Instead, he finds an empty bed. The covers are rumpled, as if Ian had attempted to sleep, but he’s nowhere to be found.

John jerks out of the room, peering down the hall at the guest bathroom. The door is open and the room is dark. Ian isn’t there. John steps into the guest room, looking around, half expecting to find Ian curled up on the floor or something bizarre like that. Instead, he spots a note on the side table. John feels his heart sink. Did Ian run away in the middle of the night? He snatches the note up and skims it.

“Jesus,” John breathes. “He fucking went on a run? It’s three am.”

John fumbles for his phone, pulling up Ian’s number. He hits the call button and waits impatiently, hoping Ian will pick up.

“Hello?” Ian sounds out of breath, and John wonders how long he’s been gone.

“Ian? What the fuck are you doing?” John hisses.

“Running?” Ian replies, sounding nervous.

“I got that from your note. Why are you running at three am?” John growls.

There’s only the soft panting of Ian’s breath for a moment. “I … I needed to think. About … everything.”

“Ian … Christ. Alright, fine. Where are you? Did you go to the gym?” John prays that Ian isn’t out running in the streets.

Silence. “No.” Ian sighs. He rattles off the intersection that he’s at.

“Fuck, Ian, that’s ten miles out. What the … what … shit.” John huffs. “Listen, I’m coming to get you. Stay there. I mean it. Stay there.”

“John, I’m fine. I’ll … I’ll head back.”

“Ian. You are not covering twenty miles by foot in one night. The fuck — no, I’m coming to get you and you need to stay put. Stay.”

Ian laughs softly. “I’ve done it before, John.”

Something in the way he says it -- sadly, without pride — gives John pause. “You — you have done this before?”

John can practically hear Ian’s shrug. “Yeah. What, you think Abby’s going to pick me up in the middle of the night?” Ian scoffs. “Hardly.”

John isn’t quite sure what to do with that bit of information. “We are talking about this when I get to you. Stay there and stay safe. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, got it?”

Ian sighs. “Okay.”

John hangs up, mumbling under his breath about Ian’s stupidity.

“What the hell is going on?” Aisha’s voice startles John. He whirls around to find her standing in the doorway.

“Ian has decided to go on a run,” John says, voice flat. “I’m going to get him.”

“He what?” Aisha’s eyes widen. “He … went on a run?”

John nods. “Said he needed to think.” John shakes his head. “The idiot. He could have crashed his blood sugar. Jesus. I need to change. Can you grab me some juice and a bagel or something?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Fuck, idiot.” Aisha turns and heads to the kitchen while John jogs to their bedroom the change into jeans and a sweatshirt.

When John returns, Aisha has a bottle of orange juice and a bagel with cream cheese in a bag. “Here. Do you need me to go with you?”

John shakes his head. “No, I’m wide awake now. Besides … I don’t want to crowd him.” John pauses. “Unless you think you should go? Since you’re closer to him?”

Aisha shakes her head. “I think he needs you.”

John blinks. “What does that mean?”

Aisha raises an eyebrow. “I’m not an idiot, John. I know how you look at him.”

“Shit, Aisha—”

Aisha grins teasingly. “It’s fine. Actually, I’ve thought for a long time you two would work well together.”

“Aisha, I cannot come on to him right now. The guy is traumatized.”

“I know you can’t, and I wouldn’t suggest it.” Aisha steps into John’s space. “But he needs someone who cares right now. Someone who cares beyond just checking in on a friend. You won’t say it, or show it, but somehow, he’ll know that you care.” Aisha sighs and rolls her eyes at Johns confused look. “Listen, Ian assumes that Paul and I help out because we have to. ‘That’s what friends are for,’ he’s literally said that to me. But you? You’re an adjacent friend.”

John shakes his head. “I’m going to pretend I know what that means.”

“It’ll make a difference, trust me.” Aisha leans in to give John a kiss. “Be careful and bring that idiot home safe.”

John nods. “I will.” He huffs as he turns around. “Stubborn bastard.”

Taglist: @lofiyaketyblr

(drop a comment if you're interested in being added to my (tiny) taglist)

Chapter 6: Finding Ian

[myllacrimosa]

Prayer of Devotion, Prayer of Despair (Series)

Summary: Reader returns back to Crockett after her mother, a devout parishioner and community leader, has passed. Conflicted feelings of faith and purpose arise, and she leans on Saint Patrick’s new priest for guidance. (Reader is not religious, but has a connection to the church since youth).

(This series will be 18+. No minors.)

Pairing: Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: Death mention, blasphemy, some liberties taken with scripture.

A/N: girl…this was supposed to be a one shot….then I added some plot and now we’re working with chapters? This is most likely going to end up in five parts.

GIF SOURCE

Part I

A dear memory, a strange priest, a vulgar impulse.

It’s coming back to you.

That warmth that emits from Saint Patrick’s windows at night, you remember it from childhood. Its haze beaconing the lost souls and devotees on the island alike. Nights when Mom wasn’t herself—voice deep, lips twisted in dark contempt and seething with a bitterness you could never quite understand—you snuck out and drifted to those big brown doors across the way.

You could almost hear His voice, no, his voice, really—abundantly lush, soothing, the voice of one who wanted nothing more than to comfort you dearly, and it welcomed you. He’d gesture to the front pew and you’d take a seat, your eyes still red and teary, your tiny hands balled into angry fists.

His robes fluttered around him. The twirling white cotton was such a grand display under the flickering candlelight. He settled down next to you and tap the back of his hand to your chin, waiting for that moment when you raised your head—his bushy brows and downturned mouth imitated the sadness in your face with exaggeration, twisting in such a way that reminded you of a cartoon character.

You never knew why, but that always left you giggling. He looked so silly like that. He smiled, a smile so wide you would have thought he had just discovered the most incredible thing. A smile so kind, so delightfully warm. His eyes would crinkle with a spark of joy as if he were blessed at the very sight of you—and you felt safe, and you felt loved.

“Oh, my dear girl,” he’d say, “there she is. There she is.”

He’d squeeze your hand tight and give it a shake until the church was filled with giggling and laughter. Then, at last, John Pruitt would read to you from the Book of Psalms, the words spoken in a light singsongy sort of lullaby. He’d read and read until you’d yawn and rub your tired eyes, then he’d take you on a walk back home.

When she opened the door and saw who stood before her, she was a saint. Mother was never one to twist her lips at the Monsignor.

But back on Crockett Island after nearly a decade, you’re just now starting to come to terms with the unexpected: the Monsignor is gone, and so is Mom. When she had passed not too long ago she had decided to leave the house in your name. It feels like an apology. Selling it feels like a betrayal, and keeping it, well…

(one step at a time, you tell yourself).

From your bed you’re fixated on those glowing windows. The memories they bring back—it has you thinking about your faith, that thing you never quite got a good grasp of. It rests somewhere far away, tucked in the corridors of your mind right next to where the memories of your mother lay. It’s becoming even easier for them to make their way back to you.

You still don’t know why you attended church today, or last Sunday, for that matter. Perhaps you found comfort in old routines from childhood, like maybe that was the reasonable thing to do now that you’re back home. Maybe you were a little lost now, unsure of what’s next.

Maybe you were a bit enthralled. A bit certain that it was Saint Patrick’s new priest who sparked a little bit of that old curiosity you harbored (perhaps a new one, too).

The church dims.

You inch closer to the window, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you wait for the last remaining soul to emerge from the doors. One after the other the candles go out until Saint Patrick’s is drained of color.

And finally he emerges, Father Paul Hill.

The way Father Paul steps outside—so careful, tentative in his steps, looking about the quiet night, marveling at the stars. Like it’s a wonder. You smile, just a little.

The moonlight is shining perfectly on him. Amid the night blue, he looks unreal, a picturesque forlorn creature. Tall and handsome, undeniably so (Father, forgive—this thought you desperately wished you had buried since last Sunday). But he’s everywhere. He just keeps appearing. Around the island, outside of the church, making his rounds with the people of Crockett.

Every time you see him you’re slightly taken aback, and you think you’re out of your mind when you sense his hesitation before he approaches you, his abrupt pauses when he speaks with you before saying too much. The resonance of his voice strikes something deep inside you that feels so familiar when he calls your name. And when he calls your name, it sounds so sweet.

Father Paul straightens his back until he’s perfectly still, hands by his side. You can make out the curve of his lips, his deep set eyes—narrowed eyes, focused on whatever it is that’s in front of him. He stays like that, motionless, frozen in place. You wait, but he doesn’t move. You wait some more, observing the strange, tiny priest below, but nothing.

Your brows furrow, you tilt your head and move closer to the window. You wonder if he can make out the shapes behind your window, or if he’s trying to. Your eyes slide to the clock—it’s late, almost two in the morning. It must’ve been freezing outside, you could nearly feel the chill through the glass, and he’s just standing there.

What is he—?

He's thinking. He’s moving his head—he's nodding to himself. It’s almost imperceptible if you weren’t studying him so precisely. Father Paul stands there, utterly consumed with whatever is going on in his head. He flexes his fidgety fingers on his right hand, balling his fist a few times before it rests again.

You laugh quietly. What is he doing out there?

The house he’s staring at across the way—this house, eyes glued to the window of your old room that faces those big brown church doors.

It looks like he’s laughing—maybe to himself, maybe to the stranger he’s vaguely aware of behind the glass. You almost want to wave, but decide against it when he shakes his head.

He descends down the steps. Your eyes follow him until he’s out of your sight. The stairs are empty once again. The church is, too. And then there is nothing, just blue.

You sit back. You feel a sense of loss, a profound sense of longing in an instant.

Weird.

Never has he occupied your mind as much as he did tonight, and you think you might’ve just been distracted with everything else—your mother, this house, returning here—before you realized that you are, and have been, so utterly lonely.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Father Paul.

It plays in your mind, the image of earlier—his image, his sermon, the passion behind his eyes, the strength in his voice when he read from the Book of Isaiah. When he called your name he said he was so delighted to see you again.

You learn that the Monsignor spoke dearly about you and your mother, apparently. But Father Paul promised that this was a conversation for Next Time, and Next Time can’t come fast enough.

It plays in your mind as you lay back down, it plays in your mind when you close your eyes—the strange new priest and his twitchy hand. Under the moonlight, outside your window. Theatrical, really. That display of internal conflict, presented right there on the very steps of Saint Patrick’s.

You fall asleep and you dream, it plays in your mind. He laughs and shakes his head, you want to ask him what’s wrong, what he’s thinking about, but he doesn’t answer.

He just laughs. It is the sweetest sound in all of Crockett, and you feel so delightfully warm.

• • •

“Let the wicked forsake their ways and the unrighteous their thoughts,” John Pruitt recites his prayer like a wretched thing, trampling over the gravel beneath his feet in a fury. He feels dizzy, his heart is racing in his chest. His hasty gait has the bag on his shoulder bouncing in every which way against his thigh.

“What on earth, Pruitt,” he hisses, fumbling with his keys at the door. John is certain he saw you behind that window. He is certain he’s frightened you.

“Let them turn… let them… what is the matter—” John is breathless. His trembling hand opens the door and he tosses his bag to the ground. He sputters over his thoughts with a mix of verse and nonsense. “Let them turn to the Lord, and he…“

He searches for his rosary, frantically moving the papers and books on his desk. He walks to his bedroom. “… he will have mercy on them and to our God for he will freely pardon,” the prayer spills out of his mouth all at once. He finds the rosary at the foot of the bed and wraps it around his hand, resting his hands on his hips. He looks to the ceiling and sighs.

“Look upon my affliction and rescue me, dear God, for I do not forget Your law,” John pleads quietly to himself, eyes closing. He has been tempted, oh, has he been tempted. And the Lord knows just how badly he wanted to see you tonight.

Oh, the Lord knows how great John Pruitts’ desire for you grew the moment he saw you again, the moment he felt the warmth of your mouth brush his skin. He knows how John Pruitts’ heart jumped when he imagined your lips claiming his fingers, His flesh, him.

Yes, the Lord knows John Pruitt is an imperfect man. If He stepped down from His throne he’d fall to his knees and pray at your altar, his divine—sacrifice himself as He did, strip himself free of His sovereignty.

O, John Pruitt knows this is a love of a different kind, so sudden, so cruel. No matter how he hides from it it reveals itself again. It begs to be cut open. It begs from its wounds, it begs to fill his mouth with a salvation unlike any other, it begs, palms outstretched it pulls him in consumed by the appetite growing from the pit of his belly, it begs.

O, this foul temptation.

What good comes from denying a blessed feast? For He has filled the hungry with good things, righteous things, for they shall be satisfied, and they shall hunger no more.

Oh, is he tired. He is so tired.

He just wants to forget about this night. He just wants to forget it all. He mutters another prayer but it dies on his tongue. He knows it is useless, he knows it’s too late.

It is you, he sees, flesh and spirit, he sees his Lord, his God Almighty and John Pruitt is terrified. There is no end for where his faith rests, no knowing for where you begin.

All he sees is Glory.

[violetwritesthings]

hey, are you writing for midnight mass? If so, could I get a full one-shot with Father Paul

(I'm having pruitt brainrot)

Maybe just him adoring and praising the reader like a G-d? Perhaps she's accepted his 'divine gift' and became a vampire too? I'm not sure, anything works please, I just need some adoration and fluff <3

(No worries if not <//3)

okay, so, hi!

i'm so incredibly sorry for taking so long to answer this request (and i don't even think i did it right- the outcome is so not what you asked for, i have no idea where i went with this, i'm so sorry-), so i genuinely hope you like it!

word count: 5.2k~

warnings: bev being a bitch, cannibalism, plenty of midnight mass spoilers, and angel-vampires.

tag list: @vor3lla (if you'd like to be added to the tag list, let me know!)

-+-

the first thing you see is blood.

actually, no, that’s not quite right, you don’t wake to the sight of blood—but you might as well, with the way you’re craving it. you feel this stirring hunger at the pit of your stomach, a gnawing emptiness that’s begging to be filled.

you feel your neck throbbing in pain. you don’t have a heartbeat, not anymore, but you can practically hear the pulsing in your head. you try to turn your neck, but to no avail—the bones are too broken for you to move it even half an inch.

someone calls out to you. someone panicked, someone distressed. they’re calling your name, but it sounds like the voice is getting further and further away. like an echo down a long tunnel.

someone enters your field of vision, hovering over you. your eyes are too blurry to focus properly, but you see dark hair, then a face. your brain scrambles trying to place that face to a name, but your body is too busy adjusting.

your ears ring and buzz and the lights seem so incredibly bright, but that face is hovering in front of you, and you still can’t figure out quite who it is. that starving hunger in your stomach won’t go away, and you find yourself wishing you could go to sleep and dream a dream.

just a silly little dream. that’s all.

“y/n!”

hm. that voice sounds familiar. the person starts to shake your shoulders frantically. you want to tell them to stop, to just let you sleep, but your mouth refuses to comply.

“y/n, wake up! just—just wake up!”

oh, you realize. now you know who that voice belongs to. that face, too.

john.

why is he so upset? everything’s okay. sure, you have this horrible hunger that’s driving you mad, and yes, you realize something’s clearly wrong with your neck, and—oh, right, that puddle of blood underneath you might not be all that normal. but it’s nothing to panic about.

you start to slip under the comfortable blanket of sleep. john’s still calling out for you, but you just can’t bring yourself to care. the warm, bright lights start to dim as your eyes flutter shut and everything turns to black.

-+-

john had been acting strange.

he passed out during mass, which was something that personally scared the crap out of you. you were to first one to get to him, the first one to make sure he made his way home safely. you didn’t care about what the others in the parish would think, not when something was clearly wrong.

(besides, you played it off as simply being a concerned parishioner. none of them needed to know that you’d been in a secret relationship with the man for months, now.)

yet, that wasn’t the strangest part.

the strangest part was when john didn’t show up to mass at all the next day, or the day after that. instead, you got to hear bev keane make up some excuse about how he hadn’t been feeling well and how he would be on bed rest. you wouldn’t believe anything bev said, even in the best of times, but something felt especially off that morning.

you made up your mind. you’d go see him—even if just to make sure that he was alright.

you sat through mass, fidgeting with your hands and bouncing your knees anxiously as you awaited the end of the session. finally, when mass ended, you jumped up and headed outside. instead of going home, as you usually would do, you went the opposite direction—towards the back of the church, where john lived in a small house.

you made your way to the door and knocked lightly. “john? it’s me.”

you didn’t hear anything at first. there was just dead, quiet silence coming from inside. you raised your fist to knock for the second time, but a small voice rang out before you did. shaky. unsteady. “come in.”

you opened the door hesitantly and quickly stepped inside, to make sure nobody saw you walk in. “hey, i’m sorry for barging in on you like this, i was just worried—”

you had turned around while speaking, and immediately went silent.  john was sitting in the corner, bloodied and shaking, and a body was lying dead on the ground—joe collie, you realized after a moment. john was covered in blood, joe was covered in blood, and all you could see was blood, blood, blood.

“oh my god,” you muttered.

your hands flew to your mouth. your visible shock seemed to take john out of his stupor. he finally tilted his head in your direction, meeting your gaze. “i – i'm not – i didn’t, uh, he...he hit his head,” john stammered. “and then, i—”

he couldn’t seem to finish his sentence. you finally regained your sense of movement and briskly walked past joe’s body and knelt in front of john. “jesus christ, john, what happened? how did--i mean,” you gestured wildly. you were at a loss for words.

“joe—he came in to tell me about,” john swallowed thickly. “about his struggles w-with his sobriety, and he fell, and he hit his head, and i was just so hungry.”

you felt your heartbeat quicken. the fight or flight response within you was screaming flight, and you couldn’t help the wave of fear that overwhelmed you. this was something altogether. this was something monstrous.

and yet, under all of the layers of horror and shakiness, you saw sitting in front of you the man you loved—and he was scared. you’d known him for long enough to know that he had no clue what was happening, not really. whatever happened here was horrible, but you would stand by him. you would help him in any way you could.

he wouldn’t leave you in your time of need, so you wouldn’t leave him in his.

“okay,” you nodded. “okay, we can fix this.”

he looked up at you, shocked at your sudden acquiescence. “what?”

“we can fix this,” you repeated. “who else knows?”

john closed his eyes. “uhm, bev. she walked in, after...”

you nodded, your gaze distant as you formulated a plan. “okay, so, bev knows. anyone else?” he shook his head. “okay. okay, good. we should keep this under wraps as much as possible, then.”

“y/n?”

you didn’t have to turn around to recognize the shrill, plain voice of beverly keane. speak of the devil.

you glanced at john for a moment, rolling your eyes, before rising from the ground and facing bev. “hello, beverly.”

“you aren’t supposed to be here,” bev said, casually folding her hands together in front of her lap. “so, i believe you should leave now.”

“i’m not going anywhere,” you retorted. if your tone was a little too sharp, well, you figured you could be forgiven for it in this case. “i know what happened, and i want to help.”

bev sighed and scanned you up and down condescendingly. you already knew she was revving up for a long one. “now, now, y/n. i know all too well that you’ve been sneaking around with the monsignor like a little schoolgirl. now, i've let it pass for the sake of the monsignor’s happiness, but please, don’t mistake that fact as an excuse to act as though you may do whatever you please.”

“you’re talking to me about—”

“stop,” john mumbled. you both quieted down when you heard his voice. he cleared his throat. “you won’t speak to y/n that way, bev. understand that now, or get out.”

you felt the smallest hint of smug satisfaction watching bev’s face morph into a hidden kind of rage. she held her tight grin that was plastered on her face and looked down at john.

“right, well, i simply came in to see how you were doing. i'll go make sure everyone gets home safely and come back when we’re ready to dispose of the evidence.” it sickened you how easily bev referred to joe collie’s dead corpse as ‘evidence,’ but you wouldn’t voice it aloud. you just wanted her to leave. “will you need help cleaning up, monsignor?”

“i’ve got it,” you interrupted.

she looked at you, internally fuming, but finally turned to leave. she sauntered past the dead body as if it were an everyday occurrence and left through the front door.

you sighed. “she’s a joy.” you returned to your previous spot, crouching in front of john. “alright, come on. we really should get you cleaned up. can you stand?”

john blinked, looking around as though he’d just remembered something. “i would, but—the sun.”

you tilted your head in confusion. “the sun?”

he moved his hand forward towards a slip of light that peeked through the window. you jumped back when, inexplicably, his hand started to burn. it was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. he solemnly removed his hand from the sunlight, and you watched as his hand slowly started to heal.

“yeah,” john grumbled. “the sun.”

you widened your eyes. “right, okay,” you stammered. “so, no sun. cool. we can work with that.”

you quickly got up and closed the curtains so that no light would shine through. you realized, then, that john had probably been stuck in the corner since the morning. your gaze caught on joe collie’s body, but you forced yourself to tear your eyes away. you’d help john fix this, even if you didn’t have the full story.

“come on,” you prompted as you held out your hand. john sluggishly took it and rose from the ground. he lost his balance for a moment, but you successfully caught him in an embrace before he could fall. “hey, hey, i've got you,” you muttered soothingly. “you’re okay.”

it was as though he was drunk with the way he swayed in your arms. he held onto you tightly, as if you were a lifeboat in the open ocean. you blew a strand of hair out of your face and looked around you, wondering how the hell you were going to fix all of this.

you’re okay, you thought to yourself. everything’s gonna be fine.

-+-

one day and one night passed.

you helped john clean up, washing the blood and grime out of his hair and skin. he was nonverbal for the majority of it, but he was lucid. he moved when you asked him to, nodded or shook his head with yes or no questions.

by the time you managed to get him dressed and settled, bev had returned with a small group—sturge, the mayor. you weren’t shocked when you realized that they were the ones tasked with removing joe’s body from the house.

the mayor, wade scarborough, appeared the most unsettled. the moment that he expressed no desire to have any part in any of this, bev chewed him out, screaming at him about ‘cherry-picking the bible,’ referencing his daughter leeza’s miraculous recovery.

bev had an incredible ability to make anyone feel badly about themselves, you noted with a scoff.

as bev continued on her rant, you wandered back into john’s room. he had been sitting on the edge of the bed when you left him, but he had apparently moved to stand in front of the window, his back turned to you.

cautiously, you walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “hey,” you greeted softly.

“hey,” he replied, not tearing his gaze away from the window.

he seemed so broken. you wished you could come up with something reassuring to say, but your mind came up blank. “things are being dealt with out there, so don’t worry, okay?”

he hummed in acknowledgement, but you had no real way of knowing if he actually heard you. you stayed there a moment, sensing that he probably wanted to be left alone, then started to leave.

“why did you help me?”

you froze. “what?”

“you didn’t have to. you could’ve run away screaming, called me a monster. swore to never see me again. i mean, i wouldn’t have blamed you. but you stayed, and you helped me. why?”

“you’d do the same for me. you and i are a team, remember?” you stepped closer to john and hooked your arms around his torso, leaning your head on his back. “now, if you want to tell me what happened, i’m here to listen. if not, that’s okay too.” he sighed, gripping onto your embrace. “it’s a really long story.”

“hey,” you chuckled. “if i could wrap my head around you being made forty-some years younger by a rogue angel, i could follow along with anything you’ll throw at me.” he laughed at that, then. you hugged him just a bit tighter.

“okay,” he nodded. “okay, yeah. here goes.”

-+-

as it turned out, it was pretty hard to follow.

john told one crazy story, and you didn’t even know how to begin processing it. according to him, he had died—actually died—due to an overdose of the angel’s blood, he suspected. then, he was resurrected just moments later. bev, sturge, and the mayor and his wife had all witnessed it, which is why they had all been involved.

when he had come back to life, it had been nearly insane—he couldn’t be in the sun without burning his limbs to a crisp, he was under constant delirium and confusion, and he had this starving hunger in the pit of his stomach that he just couldn’t shake.

and that’s when joe collie had walked in.

the way that john described the encounter certainly scared you. he made it sound as though he had no control over his own body whatsoever. john had clutched onto joe in a partial embrace, causing him to fall over. when joe hit his head against a table, he’d started bleeding. immensely.

that’s when john couldn’t help himself.

his voice shook as he told the story, and he couldn’t once seem to meet your eyes. he had no guilt for what he had done, he explained, but he did feel guilty for the effect it would have on the others. more importantly, he thought you would certainly see him as nothing but a monster.

you didn’t.

once he’d finished speaking, you stared down at your lap, fiddling with your hands awkwardly. you didn’t quite know what to say. you didn’t know how to react to any of this.

“i know you must think the worst of me,” john eventually said, filling the silence.

“i don’t.” you turned to him, grabbing his hand. “john, i don’t.”

he finally looked up at you. you had his attention.

“to be honest with you, this is taking me a bit to process, but that doesn’t mean i think you’re a monster, or a bad person.” you tightened your grip on his hand to emphasize your point. “i told you, it’s you and me. we’re a team. that means i don’t turn my back on you, you don’t turn your back on me. non-negotiable.”

he just stared at you, this look of adoration and awe in his eyes. “i don’t know how i'll ever be worthy of you.”

you smiled softly. “you already are.”

to prove it, you gently caressed his cheek and leaned in, meeting his lips in a kiss. it was soft, simple, nothing more than an ‘i’m here. i'm with you.’

at least, that’s what you hoped the kiss conveyed until someone cleared their throat loudly.

you and john separated begrudgingly. bev had been standing at the front door, a neutral expression on her face. “my apologies for the intrusion.”

“what is it, bev?” you could hear the pure annoyance in john’s voice; you wondered if bev could hear it too.

“i came to let you know that the body’s been disposed of.”

you wondered how they managed to get rid of joe’s body in such a short time—but, you supposed, when the literal mayor was involved, there were more liberties they could take.

“thank you,” john muttered.

she nodded firmly. “will you be needing anything else?” she subtly turned towards you. “time to rest, perhaps?”

you couldn’t help yourself.

“you know what, bev? that’s actually a great idea,” you replied politely with a smile. “i’d imagine he does need time to rest, so you should probably get going now.”

when john didn’t show any sign of protest, bev silently left through the front door with a huff. you heard the door to the house slam with her departure.

then, sitting in the silence, john started chuckling.

“what?” you asked, actually grinning this time.

he shook his head affectionately. “you are...something else, y/n.”

“oh, come on,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “you know you love me.”

he met your eyes, a genuine smile gracing his face, and he sighed. “that, i do.”

-+-

life with your newly sunshine-allergic, blood-diet priest boyfriend was certainly...

well, weird.

he’d begun conducting mass after the sun had gone down, which the town got quickly adjusted to. he spoke with the same charisma and power as he always did, so it wasn’t as though the town suspected anything.

days had passed and easter had finally come, and the town was alight with excitement. most of the people on crockett island, even those who wouldn’t regularly come to mass, were ready to celebrate the holiday.

the majority of the day was spent getting the church ready. you’d noticed that bev was overly joyous and talkative, which wasn’t exactly normal. she even wished the sheriff a ‘happy easter,’ when she would normally ignore his existence altogether.

something was off.

you two had ended up in the same room together as you set up an array of candles surrounding the church’s interior. she actually started humming, which unnerved you to no end.

eventually, you couldn’t stand it anymore. you exhaled sharply. “okay, what is this?”

she glared at you. “excuse me?”

“you’ve been acting really weird all day.”

“well, that’s because this evening,” she looked around, then dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “the world is going to change.”

you raised an eyebrow skeptically. “oh, really? change, how?”

“oh, y/n, the monsignor and i have the most wonderful plan.” she rushed towards you and held both of your hands tightly in hers. “death won’t need to be a part of life, not anymore. we’re past all of that, now.”

you felt way too uncomfortable with bev’s level of enthusiasm. “what—what are you talking about?”

“we can share the monsignor’s gift —god’s gift—with the entire parish.”

your heart thudded to a stop. you forcefully removed your hands from her grip. “wait. you’re saying you want to kill everyone in the church? put them through what john went through?”

she scoffed lightly. “what the monsignor ‘went through’ was a miracle. he was resurrected, just like our lord, jesus christ, and brought back to revel in the gift he was given, to spread the gospel. this is exactly that.”

“and what happens to everyone else? the people that don’t go to mass. what happens to them? they just die?”

“those who don’t want to be saved...” she trailed off, exhaling deeply. “well, i suppose they’ve already made their choices, now, haven’t they?”

you were speechless. you knew one thing for sure—you needed to go talk to john and stop this insanity before it began. you set down the candles you had left and made your way to the front door. before leaving, you held your hand over the doorknob and decided you’d say one last thing to bev.

“those innocent people that you’re leaving to die?” you turned to face her. “that’s not them and their choices. that’s you, bev, acting like you have a say in who lives and who dies.”

for once in her life, bev had nothing to say.

with that, you walked out.

-+-

“explain. now.”

john looked up at you guiltily from where he was sitting on the edge of his bed. “you weren’t supposed to know.”

“you were planning on poisoning the entire island, john?! no, wait, i stand corrected—you were planning on changing everyone in the parish, then leaving the rest of the island to die.”

“that wasn’t—”

“do you not remember what happened to joe collie? all he did was walk in and you turned it into an all-you-could-eat buffet.” you put your hands on your hips, exasperated. “i'm not saying this to make you feel worse or to throw it in your face, but what do you think’s gonna happen with an entire town full of bloodhungry people?”

john shook his head. “the point, the whole point of this, was to share this miracle. to restore everyone as jesus was restored.”

“jesus wasn’t ‘restored’ by some magical angel hiding off in a dark cave somewhere. and joe wasn’t changed, remember?” you scoffed. “he just died. is that really what you want for everyone?”

he shook his head solemnly, closing his eyes. "no. no, it's not."

you sighed, then sat down on the edge of the bed next to john. the mattress dipped with your weight. “look, i know you have only the best intentions, but this isn’t the way to go about saving them.”

he stayed silent, staring at the wall. you could practically hear the gears in his mind churning, and you hoped that he was hearing what you were saying.

“can i tell you something?” he eventually asked, muttering into the quiet space.

you nodded.

“i did—i do want to save them. i really do. but the truth, the real truth, is that i wanted to save you.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “what?”

“i’ve already grown old, y/n. i know what it feels like to have your mind slip away from you, to start forgetting things to the point where you barely remember your own name. it’s torture. and the worst part is, you don’t even realize it’s happening.” he looked at you, a barely restrained hopelessness hidden in his eyes. “i couldn’t watch you go through it.”

“john...” you trailed off.

“yeah,” he nodded. “yeah, i know. but can you imagine it? i mean, a life without death. painful death, slow death, all of it, just gone.”

you shook your head firmly. “we can’t do that to those people. you have to know that.”

he sighed, leaning his head on your shoulder.

you had a feeling he was listening.

-+-

you and john walked into the church, hand-in-hand. the sun had long since gone down, and bev was getting prepared to meet the scarboroughs’ in front of their house to lead the parishioners back to the church for easter mass.

“ah! monsignor, good evening,” bev hummed as soon as she’d seen you both walk in. “and y/n. good evening to you as well. everything’s almost ready, i just need to—”

“bev, we need to talk,” john interrupted.

she blinked, frozen in her tracks. “i’m sorry?”

“the plan’s off.” he cleared his throat. “we can’t, uh, we can’t do what we said we’d do.”

you tightened your grip on his hand, a subtle encouragement. a way to remind him that you were still with him.

it seemed as though the words weren’t registering in bev’s mind. you could almost see the loading screen stuck in her expression. “monsignor, i--i'm afraid i don’t understand the sudden change of heart. i thought we’d agreed, this is what’s best for—”

“no. this isn’t what’s best. this isn’t right, this—this isn’t god’s will at work. this was human; this was my own selfishness. god hasn’t been moving through me. i've realized that now.”

“monsignor, no,” bev denied vehemently.

“bev, we’ve been going about this all wrong.” he stepped forward, standing eye-to-eye with bev.

suddenly, something flickered in the corner of your eye, past bev, past john. it was sitting in the corner of the church—had it been there all along? it was something large, grey, evil.

it loomed ominously. something moved once, twice—wings. one large pair of wings attached to a long, lanky body were staring right at you. that’s when it clicked.

this must have been the angel that changed john the first time, then made him into what he was now. but from the looks of it, this angel didn’t look like an angel at all. in fact, only one word popped into your head as you stared at the creature standing in the corner.

demon.

it flapped its wings again; once, twice. you realized with a gasp that the creature was getting ready to fly. its eyes, its dark, dark eyes were practically boring holes into john’s head. it was planning to attack him for the third time, wasn’t it?

john and bev were too delved into their heated conversation to notice the large thing in the corner of the room, but you watched it, frozen in fear.

that’s when it took flight.

you barely had half a second to react. you pushed john out of the way, knocking him to the side, taking the brunt of the creature’s force. it brought you to the ground and hissed—it sounded like a high-pitched squeal directed into your eardrums.

it threw its head back, then sunk its teeth into your neck.

you screamed—it was the only thing you could think to do, considering you couldn’t think at all due to the overwhelming pain in your neck. you couldn’t hear anyone else, couldn’t see anyone else, with the way that the creature’s wings covered your field of vision.

you screamed, and screamed, until your vocal cords felt raw. still, the creature drank from you with no remorse.

eventually, the worst of the pain started to fade, which you were grateful for. that was, at least, until you realized that it was because you were fading yourself. your thoughts weren’t coherent anymore and you found yourself dizzy and disoriented. the creature still drank.

you were dying, weren’t you?

minutes passed, or maybe hours. you couldn’t have known how much time had really gone by. the creature slowed its feast, then stopped altogether. it licked its lips, flapped its wings once more, and flew off somewhere. you heard the church’s doors swing on their hinges with its departure.

you vaguely saw the silhouetted figure of someone rushing over to you. then, you saw nothing at all.

-+-

when you next woke, the first thing you saw was blood.

well, that’s not quite right, you didn’t wake to the sight of blood, but you might as well have, with the way you craved it.

you thought you saw john’s face come into view, but you couldn’t really tell. you were coming in and out of consciousness, unable to focus for more than a few moments at a time. you thought that maybe you saw him crying, but you couldn’t be sure.

it felt like you weren’t sure of anything anymore.

finally, your eyes fluttered open.

“y/n, oh, thank god. thank god,” john muttered, moving the hair out of your face.

you were still disoriented, trying to gauge your surroundings. your neck felt like it had split into six different pieces. more than anything else, though, you were hungry.

“what—” you groaned. the lights from the candles you’d set up earlier were blinding you. “what happened?”

“the angel, it attacked you.” he shook his head. “well, it was coming for me, but you—you saved me.”

oh right, you thought. the creature.

you tried sitting up from where you were laying on the floor, but a sharp crack of pain in your head stopped you in your tracks.

“no, no,” john shushed. “stay still. your neck still needs time to heal.”

“it killed me, didn’t it?” you whispered. “i’m--i'm like you, now?”

a tear slid down his face as he nodded. “yes, my dearest. you’re like me now.”

your own eyes started to water as the rest of your memories trickled in. you realized that you were dead—really dead—and you’d never get to see the sunlight again, and that desperate, gnawing hunger in your gut would never go away.

how would you possibly keep going?

before you could answer that question, you realized just how exhausted you were. you slowly fell back into a numb state of unconsciousness, floating in an empty sea within your mind. you weren’t asleep, but you weren’t exactly awake, either. you were stuck in that fragile in-between state. you didn’t know how long you were stuck in limbo.

the next time you woke up, the church’s curtains had been drawn back, blocking the small rays of sunlight from coming in.

it was daytime, you presumed. the church had to have been empty, considering you heard no footsteps, no movement—unless...?

finally able to move your neck, seeing as though it had healed during your restless sleep, you turned your head to the side. you saw john sitting in the corner, his arms locked around his knees. he had his head down and his breathing was heavy—you quickly realized that he had fallen asleep. had he been there all night?

you sat up slowly, hissing at the dull pain that wracked throughout your body. you paused, took a deep breath, then continued.

when you made your way across the church, you slid on the floor next to john. the movement finally roused him from his sleep. he looked up at you, then to where you’d been lying on the floor, then back to you, as if he were trying to figure out how you’d gotten there.

“y/n. you’re awake.”

you nodded. “yeah. i'm awake.”

“i’m so, so sorry. for all of this.” he shook his head. “if i hadn’t--”

“hey. don’t do that,” you interrupted, raising your hand. “don’t blame this all on yourself.”

he fell silent. you both stared straight ahead at the closed curtains that blocked the sunlight from coming in. it was a strange, fearful thought that the slightest movement of these curtains could cause your body to literally start burning.

in the silence, a thought occurred to you. “the parish. what happened last night?”

“i, um—mass was canceled, last night. we didn’t go through with the plan.”

“good.” you sighed, glancing at the empty pews. “i’m sure the whole town was thrown off by that.”

“there were more important matters to deal with last night,” he said, turning to look at you with those soft eyes of his.

you felt a smile tugging at your lips, but you quickly sobered. “this plan. it’s off for good, right?”

he nodded. “that creature? the one that presented itself to me as an angel? after what it did to you, i wouldn’t--i couldn’t--” he sighed, aggravated, before shaking his head. “so, what do we do now?”

“now, we...figure out a new way to survive.” you thought for a moment, then amended your previous statement. “i'm not eating from people, not if i can help it.”

he nodded. “okay. we’ll find a different way.”

“and that creature, that thing, we’ll need to figure out what to do with it.”

“we’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“and we’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anyone else,” you added. you felt a surprising sense of relief, now that you had a solid plan. you scooted closer to john, then let your head rest on his shoulder. “can i tell you something?”

he hummed, a form of acknowledgement.

“if there was anyone to be stuck as a dead person with, i'm glad that it’s you.”

he chuckled, then grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it. “likewise, my love. likewise.”

[kyunisixx]

drunk

a/n: I don't know what this is. It had been sitting for more than a week on my folder and had only finished it, sorry for any errors. So I guess here goes 655 words of drunk and giggly Jonesy.

theme(s): fluff and nothingness 🙈

pairing: John Paul Jones x fem!reader

She stared right at the empty glass of water placed on the table 

It had been a few hours since she tucked the kids to bed with kisses on their forehead. Now she sat with her chin resting against her palm, turning every now and then to the old clock hung up by the doorframe of the silent kitchen. He had left this morning with a big smile before heading to the studio with a promise he'd be home before midnight. It's already half-past two in the morning and there wasn't any sign of him and it was starting to worry her. Then there was the knock she had been waiting for.

Two taps. Gently at first. Before the knocks turned frantic with a thud.

She twisted the door open to reveal a very drunk John. “Oh my god.”

“Hi, darling.” He leaned over and took a wobbly step, both his arms posed to hug her but tripped over the elevated tile floor, sending both of them to the floor. She groaned at the impact and the weight of John's body. “Fuck. Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” she muttered. He placed both forearms beside her head and tried to lift his form off of hers and slumped on the floor like a limp vegetable. She gingerly got up and dusted her clothes, “Come on. Up, up.” With all the strength left in him, he got to his feet and wobbled. Almost meeting the floor for the second time if not for her arms wrapping around his waist to catch him. She took his arm and placed it over her shoulder.

“How'd you get home?”

“They-” a hiccup cut through. “They called me a cabbie.”

As they tread carefully on the stairs, John hiccups once then a series of giggles rumbled from him. She hissed, “John! The kids are sleeping!”

His eyes widened and placed his fingers up to his lips with a nod, “Oh. Shh. Shh.”

She kicked the door open to their shared bedroom and carefully sat him on the bed. He slid his coat off then folded it to place it on the bed with a single pat. She moved to untuck his shirt from his trousers. 

He swats her hand off, she jumps and lifts her head to look at him incredulously, “What are you doing?”

“No. What are you doing?”

“I'm taking your shirt off!”

“You can't do that,” he shakes his head slowly.

“Why not?”

“Miss, I'm married,” he says with a pointed look and shows the back of his hand at her, the silver ring glimmering in the dim light of the room. “See. Married.”

She looks away, fighting off a smile and a snort. “Well,” she tests the waters, running a hand up to his collarbone in a seductive caress. “Are you sure I can't change your mind about it?” 

He swats at hand again. “Ow!”

“Look, miss. You can bother someone else, alright?” he points his index finger at her as if to scold her. And suddenly, he sits up straighter, a whisper of curse as he slaps a hand on his face and mutters, “She's going to kill me if she sees me like this.”

Her hands find their place on her hips as he stares at her husband. She was pissed, of course she was. But she cannot help but smile. Her sweet, sweet man, prim and composed, behaving like a child with googly eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Okay, look. You can sleep here tonight and I'll call your wife.”

“Tell her not to worry and that I love her and I adore her and that she's the only apple of my eye and-”

“Yes! I get it! I get it, now let me take your shoes off and you can go to sleep.”

Minutes later, he's fast asleep with a light snore. She tucks a few strands of his hair from his face and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead before cuddling up to his side.

.

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby , @timetraveller4 , @dreamersdrowse , @jimmylovesme (if you'd like to be added, let me know!) 💖

[mysweetgeo]

I Need You (Part 15)

Summary: Sequel Series to the Do You Want to Know a Secret ? Series. Reader accepts a job as a photographer for a band as they begin a tour mid-1966, what happens when she finds out that she knows them ?

Brian had you stand sidestage with him for the concerts during this leg of the tour, rather than with security in the pit.

Though you didn’t get to catch the moments from the front, you’d brought your camera with you and snuck a couple shots of the lads from the side, which was almost more magical in its own way.

From sidestage, you were able to catch lovely glimpses of the stupid grins that they’d made for each other, and some beautiful shots of Ringo without the other three crowding his shot.

The three at the front had seemingly noticed you at the side rather than up front. John continually made silly faces at you, Paul kept winking (a shameless flirt, he is), and George, George would wink and flash you a loving grin.

You and Brian thoroughly enjoyed the concert, and by the looks of it the boys did too, even if none of you could hear after their performance.

Immediately after George had practically tackled you in a hug, even with his guitar strapped to his chest.

“How was it?” He asked as he picked you up off your feet for a moment.

You gasped for breath when his guitar pressed into your side. Once he put you down, you tucked yourself underneath his arm, wrapping an arm around his waist, “Lovely, dear. You were wonderful,” you said with a grin as you looked up at him.

He beamed down at you, his canines flashing brightly in contrast against his flushed cheeks. He had a sheen of sweat covering practically his whole body, and he smelled something awful. Like a stinky gym sock.

But you didn’t mind one bit, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

If it was possible his grin spread wider, and he pulled you closer against his side as the two of you walked back to the dressing room backstage.

“Have I told you how absolutely radiant you look tonight?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed and bumped your hip into his, “Stop flatterin’ me, Harrison,” you said as you ducked your head to rest on his shoulder.

The two of you continued walking together, practically moving as one being.

“Beautiful girl,” George whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You could only feel your cheeks redden as you walked, George resting his cheek on the top of your head as you did.

+

Later that night you’d helped all of the lads carry their things into their own respective rooms, and you and George found yourselves cuddling together on his bed.

He’d practically cocooned himself around you, not letting you leave for anything, even a shower.

“George, we both need a shower. You smell like you’ve been hanging around a sweat shop, and I feel just disgusting,” You said, trying to pry him off of you.

“Well,” he drawled with his face still pressed into your neck, “how about we save some water and shower together?”

Your eyes widened and you felt your body turning warm and rigid.

“T-Together?” You asked, suddenly feeling very nervous as you and George had never seen more than a glimpse of each other’s naked bodies.

George flipped you around so that you were facing him, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it was just a silly suggestion,” he murmured, looking down as his fingers trailed down your arms.

He was practically on top of you, and you could feel something poking at your thigh as he slowly traced your arms.

“George,” you whispered to get his attention.

He looked up at you, looking almost like a lost puppy, “Yeah?”

“We’re not going to shower together,” you said, moving your hands up to grasp his face.

“Oh,” he replied as he avoided your eyes, sounding so disappointed, “that’s okay I didn’t think you’d want to anyway.”

Your thumb trailed along his lips, “You’re going to make love to me instead,” you said breathlessly.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, “Did you just say that?” He asked.

You nodded in affirmation, “I did,” you whispered in a sultry tone of voice.

He suddenly looked very nervous and self conscious, moving so that his lower half was resting completely against you, “I hope, uh, that I,” he continued stuttering, his face turning pink as he continued.

Your hands held his mouth shut, pulling him down to press your lips together, “It’s just us,” you whispered, “you don’t have to be nervous.”

George’s fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt as the two of you laid together, “Sorry,” he murmured, “don’t really know why I am.”

You smiled, your hands meeting his own and helping him pull your top over your head to leave you just in a nude coloured bra.

His eyes fixated on your chest and whatever was poking your thigh was now at full attention between your thighs.

“Really? Because I think something is telling me that you’re quite excited,” you joked, moving your legs slightly to give him some friction.

You heard a quiet gasp escape George’s lips as he looked up at you, “Temptress,” he murmured before pressing his face into your neck and beginning to leave a trail of kisses trailing down towards your collarbone, sucking and gently biting at your skin.

Your back arched every-so-slightly, which inadvertently pressed his clothed erection right where you desperately needed it.

You gasped loudly, beginning to paw at George’s shirt. He was wearing too many things.

He looked down at you with a cocky grin, lifting himself up and propping himself on an elbow to try and help you remove his tie and his shirt.

Eventually the two of you had successfully removed what was covering his top half, and George had successfully removed your bra, leaving the two of you pressed chest to chest, skin to skin.

George gently rocked against you, causing both of you to shutter at the friction. You had your arms around him, grasping anything you could get your hands on.

His hands held your waist gently as he eyed your, now nude, top half.

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” you joked, a hand coming up to intertwine your fingers in his hair.

He chuckled softly, “Just never thought I’d actually see them,” he whispered gently, “they’re much better than I’d ever dreamed of.”

You smiled shyly before taking one of George’s hands and slowly moving it up to caress one of your breasts.

He groaned softly, his hand gently massaging your breast before he leaned down and attached his mouth to the opposite one.

You let out a breathy gasp, arching your back in an attempt to get closer to George, who was now suckling your right breast, while his right hand squeezed and pinched the nipple of your left breast.

“George,” you moaned, bringing your arms up to lock around his neck, which caused his mouth to be pulled away from your breast and his head to pop back up, his eyes boring into yours.

His breath fanned over your face as he laid you down once again, his hands drifting lower and lower until his fingers looped into your trousers and he pulled them down, resulting in you kicking them onto the floor.

“You’ve got to get yours off too, not fair if I’m only in my knickers and you’re still half clothed,” you pointed out.

George laughed and stood for a moment, shimmying his way out of his black suit trousers and climbing back on top of you, the imagery of his prominent erection burned into your brain as he leaned down to press a kiss against your lips again, laying on top of you.

Your kisses weren’t rushed, they were slow and soft and meaningful, your mouths moved in perfect synchronisation.

George began rocking against you once again, causing himself to moan loudly into your mouth, pulling away for a quick moment.

“I think I’m not going to last long,” he whispered into your ear, his nose rubbing against your cheek, “I’m so hopelessly in love with you.”

You could only blush, your face turning up in a shy smile, “That’s okay, love,” you said against his cheek.

Just as you were about to slip your hands into George’s briefs, the door to his room was swung wide open, and the voices of Lennon and McCartney were soon heard.

“Hey George do you want to—“ John froze when he looked at the scene laid before him.

George scrambled to cover the two of you with a blanket before he started yelling at the pair of boys in his doorway, “Do you ever fucking knock, Lennon?”

Paul just stood there with wide eyes as he stood behind John, his eyes had fallen to you long before George had covered you with the blanket.

“Get yer fuckin’ eyes off her, Paul,” George snarled, his teeth baring at the intruders who stood there helplessly.

“Well are ye just going to stand there or did you have something to say?” You snapped, sitting up beside George with the blanket covering your top half as your eyes flitted between the two men.

John shoved at Paul’s back to get him to speak, “W-Wanted to know if George wanted to go to the pub down the road,” he stuttered.

“But it seems you two might be perfectly content with yourselves!” John interrupted, a mad chesire cat grin appearing on his face as he cackled.

George sighed, rubbing a hand on his face, “Get out of my room.”

“Suit yourselves! I hope you use protection!” John said, wiggling his eyebrows as he made direct eye contact with you before dragging Paul with him out of the room.

Once he heard the door slam shut, he fell back onto the bed with a sigh, “The mood’s gone,” he grumbled.

You fell back, laying your head on his shoulder, “That’s okay, we have forever, y’know?” You said, looking up and meeting George’s eyes. “Besides, I wanted our first time to be something special, with like a real proper date and some candles,” you continued, grasping George’s hand and smiling at him.

His face split in a grin, “I can do that,” he replied, his free arm wrapping around your body to pull you closer.

[asphalt-cocktail]

okay sin sunday !! what if reader is feeling really self-conscious and one of the beatles (or all of them 👀👀) just worship the reader’s body and tell them how gorgeous they are,,, and make them cum like 4 times 😳

Oh my god I love this idea! I’ve been thinking about writing something like this so I’m excited you suggested it. This turned out WAAAYYYY longer than I expected. But if you want me to write another one where they have a proper fuck let me know! Because I also have that idea brewing 👀👀👀

Warnings: group sex, smut, oral(f), fingering, some body shaming and confidence issues, body worship

Your ears burned with embarrassment and anger as you pushed your way onto the plane through the crowd of people.

“I can’t believe they’d let someone who looks like that work for them.” The crew of girls snickered as they talked about you, oblivious to the fact that you were in ear shot.

The burning in your ears traveled up your cheeks and spread down the back of your neck as you stood in the tiny plane bathroom and stared at yourself in the mirror. You poked and prodded at your face, your big nose, and lopsided eyes then you smushed your belly in your fingers and let out a sigh. Maybe they were right.

“Hoy, you almost done in there love?” You could hear ringo knocking from the other side and quickly composed yourself.

“Yeah I’ll be out in a minute.” You answered back shortly before you exited.

The rest of the plane ride you sat some distance away from the boys, using the excuse of paperwork and the fact that you needed to get some sleep to not arise any suspicions.

After the plane landed you holed yourself up in the hotel room.

“Don’t you want to have a drink with us?” Paul’s eyes pleaded with you. It was tradition that after you landed you all sat down for a card game and drinks before sleeping the first night in your new hotel room.

You shrugged your shoulders “nah I’m kind of beat after the last flight.” Paul looked at you with a pouty expression and the way johns eyes narrowed as he looked at you told you he didn’t buy it. But neither of them said anything

The following evening as you all rushed to enter the the hotel after a business day of interviews and photo shoots you could hear girls again talking about you, “oh my god those shoes?” and “god can you believe they let her leave with her hair like that?”hammered in your ears.

Your throat felt tight and your eyes burned, a little hiccup left your mouth and you rubbed your stinging eyes with the palm of your hand. George looked at you and squinted his eyes as you all waited for the elevator, “are you... are you crying?” He asked loudly.

You blinked hard and felt hot tears run down your cheeks “no.” You said weakly and quickly rushed I to the elevator as the doors slid open. You crossed your arms over your chest and your lips pressed into a tight frown.

“What’s wrong?” John pressed, putting an arm in your shoulder.

You shrugged it off and walked off the elevator, thankful to hear it ding and see the doors open to the floor your room was on, “I’m fine.” You hiccuped quickly walking off.

When you got to your room door, you fumbled you with your keys before you finally broke and let out a soft sob, hoping the boys were far enough away that they couldn’t hear.

“Oh, come on love, we only want to help.” Ringo said staring at you with his droopy blue eyes.

Your lip quivered and you let yourself in, the boys followed shutting the door and turning towards you. You covered your face with your hands feeling Johns firm arms embracing you in a tight hug. His broad body surrounded you, making you feel comforted and protected from the mean words that dug I to your brain.

“I feel ugly.” You choked out, crying and leaving tear stains on Johns suit jacket.

You could feel their eyes burning into your back as John tried to soothe you, rubbing your back softly. The awkward silence told you that they didn’t know how to react, “what makes you think that?” You could hear George swallow thickly after he spoke, like he was trying to choose his words with military precision.

“The girls outside always say bad things about me.” You said finally pulling away and moving to sit on the edge of your bed, John followed holding your hand in your lap. You played with his fingers, tracing them and admiring the callouses and roughness of his palms.

“What girls?” Paul asked

“She means the ones downstairs.” George answered

You sheepishly looked away from them, “I don’t know why you guys keep me around, I’m no good.” You huffed out.

Paul gaped at you, “what do you mean no good?” He scoffed.

“Well there was the time I told you the wrong time for the interviews back in New York and we showed up on the wrong day, or the time I forgot ringos cymbals at the venue, or when I tripped over your guitar stand in the studio and knocked all the papers over.” You whimpered softly and rubbed your eyes, feeling more tears forming, “you guys should really get someone prettier who is more organized.”

John squeezed your hand, “a forgotten cymbal and some messed up papers are hardly a thing to get fired over. Hell Neil didn’t strap our guitars down and they busted all down the high way and we didn’t even fire him.” His hand cupped your cheek and forced you to look at him, “and don’t ever say you aren’t pretty.” The way he stared at you told you he was deadly serious.

You swallowed thickly and placed your hand over his, “Brian wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t think you were worth it. You know how much of a perfectionist he is.”

Ringo hummed in agreement, “I knkw it’s easier said than done, but don’t listen to those girls out there. They don’t have anything on you okay!”

Paul nodded his head, “very easy on the eyes, love” he said and gave you a quick wink.

Your face felt hot and you quickly looked away and played with the hem of your blazer, rubbing the stiff fabric between your fingers, “I don’t know, they always say my hair looks bad and that I’m ugly or my nose is too big.” You still felt bad thinking about their words.

“Well do they know that you wake up two hours before everyone else to take your hair out of your funny little curlers every morning?” John asked

Your face whipped over to him, “how do you know I do that?”

Johns face flushed and he shrugged, “I hear you rummaging about when we get those fancy villas.” He admitted. He swallowed thickly and looked at the three other men.

The silence told you that they were conversing. It was something that only they seemed to be able to do with eachother, talk with looks they only they understood.

Paul cleared his throat before the silence could get uncomfortable, “here why don’t you lay back and if you wanted we could show you. You know how much we appreciate you.”

You could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks, “what, what do you mean?” You asked.

John put his hand on your shoulder, “let us take care of you, yeah?” His eyes searched your face for any uncertainty.

“We can stop anytime you like.” Ringo added quickly.

You swallowed thickly and nodded your head, “Okay, I can do that” you said more to reassure yourself that you weren’t going crazy.

John sat back against the plush hotel pillows and patted his legs, encouraging you to settle between them. You hesitated for a moment and looked at the three men standing in your room trying to decide if they were taking the piss. The nischevious glint in Paul’s eyes wasnt the same as when he and John were scheming, no it was something you’ve never seen before.

You crawled over and laid against John’s chest, admiring how his body was soft and firm. You let out a shaky gasp feeling his hands rubbing your arms and brushing your hair out of the way, he tipped your chin back with his forefinger and placed a timid kiss on your lips.

The kiss was nothing you’d expect from big tough John. It was soft and sweet, like he was kissing for you to enjoy and only you. You let out a soft whimper and craned your neck at an awkward angle, wanting to take in more of him. He pulled away and smiled devilishly at you seeing your flushed face and dazed eyes.

All at once you felt the bed dip around you and you suddenly remembered there were three other people in the room. You felt a wave of embarrassment begin to wash over you.

Paul nudged your legs open with his knees and you hesitantly spread them open, now overwhelminlgly aware of how your cloths had begun to stick to your skin from sweat. When did it get so hot?

You reached to unbutton your blouse but your hands were caught between George’s long slender fingers. He gave you a kind smile and worked your buttons, placing soft kisses down your chest as each button exposed more and more of your skin. Your stomach twitched and you saw George hovering over your exposed tummy “don’t” you quickly said in a panicked voice.

George nuzzled his face against your soft tummy and kissed it, “please don’t be nervous, you’re gorgeous.” You could feel his lips moving against your skin and shivered at his words.

The three men removed the remainder of your cloths with soft touches and kind glances that reminded you this was about you, not them; and soon you were bare before them.

Paul slipped to the side while Ringo took his place. Paul placed little kisses along the outside of your spread legs while Ringo’s fingers lightly raised up them, the cool metal of his rings burning against your hot flesh. You squirmed as they both got closer and closer to your core. You watched with anticipation as both boys hungrily eyed you.

To your surprise Ringo was the first to act, swiping on of his thick fingers and gathering your slick on them before he inserted one into you. You let out a weak sigh and your walls twitched when you realized that George, John, and Paul also let out soft sounds of satisfaction and watched as Ringo’s thick finger pumped in and out of you with ease.

Your mind began to swim, feeling Paul kissing and sucking on your thighs and hips before kissing the top of your mound. Your hips jolted with surprise and your squirmed feeling the tip of his tongue expertly flick against your swollen clit.

You bit your lip hard and struggled to keep quiet, while staring at the two men at your lower half. Paula tongue traced rapid shapes against your clit as Ringk inserted another finger, “Jesus Christ,” you hissed out loudly, your back arching against John and your shoulders pressing into him.

John hummed and nuzzled your neck, kissing snd sucking on the sensitive skin, “love those pretty little sounds you make.” He whispered heavily in your ear. You shivered and tried to maintain your composure, but all sensibility was lost upon feeling George’s rough hands kneading your breasts and peppering your collarbone and chest with wet kisses.

Your mind began to swim with overstimulation, George’s hot mouth sucking and swirling your nipples against his tongue while Johns hand eagerly took to pinching and twisting the neglected ones while he whispered things that would make even the most foul mouthed sailors blush. Paul’s talented tongue flicking and lapping at your clit while ringos thick fingers pumped in and out of your soft wet walls.

George trailed kisses up your neck and jaw before placing an opened mouthed kiss on you, it made your toes curl feeling his tongue rubbing against yours while John kissed your neck. You brought your hand up to rub George through his tailored suit pants. He broke the kiss and lightly pulled your hand away, “this is about you” he said softly. He was so close you could feel his lips lightly brushing against yours as he spoke snd feel his hot breath on your face. “You look gorgeous like this, you knkw that right” he asked after placing a quick succession of lingering kisses in your lips, “taking us so well, suck a good girl, bloody brilliant”

Your face scrunched up and your walls twitched around ringos fingers. You were close. Heat began to build in your belly and your thighs flexed, “I-”you could hardly recognize your voice as you struggled to find your words.

“You gonna come for us?” Ringo asked, the pace of his fingers speeding up.

You let out a breathy whine and bucked your hips. Your hands traveled from George, to John, to Paul, unsure of where to ground yourself. Finally you settled with one hand in Paul’s hair, pushing his face closer to you while the other hand gripped John’s hand tightly. Paul’s lips lewly smacked as he sucked your clit and he let out a satisfied him, “Oh fuck” you huffed out.

Your breathy mains climbed in pitch and your back arched until suddenly your mind went blank and your skin felt like TV static. Your walls clenched around Ringos fingers as he and Paul worked you through your orgasm. Your mind felt fogged over like the morning after too much drink and your thighs felt sticky from your mess.

John, or was it George? Someone kissed your temple and you let out a content sigh, much too exhausted in that moment to open your eyes and check.

“I think you’ve killed her,” John said, cheeky as ever.

You hummed and arched your brow as it to say “I’m still here” and lazily opened your eyes.

The first face you saw was Paul, his pouty lips red and wide eyes hanging heavy as he placed an opened mouthed kiss on your lips. Paul’s were almost analytical, You could taste yourself on his mouth and moaned into the kiss. He eagerly swallowed up your sounds before pulling away and kissing the tip of your nose. A gesture so innocent in comparison to your prior actions.

You hadn’t noticed ringo left the room until he returned to the room with a warm washcloth. As attentive as ever, he cleaned your mess from your thighs. As he finished you grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, the way he kissed was wildly different from John, Paul, and George. The way John kissed you was tender, he kissed you for your pleasure while George’s were fiery and passionate. Paul was analytical, like he was always trying to get one step ahead of you as though it were a competition. But ringo he was soft, his mouth moved against yours with care, for a moment you forgot the rest of the boys were in the room. He smiled for a moment and pulled away.

Once your light and airy high passed you sat up from John’s chest. John looked at you “i don’t to ever hear you say bad things about yourself again.” He said like a mother scolding a child. His serious facade passed and a ghost of a smile played on his lips “if you do we might have to do this again.”

You smiled and let out a small laugh, “i don’t know if I’ve gotten the point across maybe I could use another reminder later.”

George grinned, “we’ll have to check with our fab assistant to see if it fits into our schedules.”

[cinnamontoastandtears]

random fic time

so, i got a request for a mcharrison teddy boy era first kiss, and putting aside how long it took me to write it, i also messed it up a little by turning it into a bit of an angst fest and making it way too plotty (must be riding my high from the other george/paul fic lmao) but i wanted to give this to y’all anyway so: here you go !!

(to the anon that requested the first kiss in the first place, dw, i’m going to write you another)

warning: drunkenness and a brief description of nausea

George stumbled up the steps with big thunks, feet heavy from the whiskey in his system, whiskey in his system because he’d been drinking alone.

Paul had been too busy with John to go out with him. Perfect John, with his perfect fucking hair, and his not-so-perfect guitar playing that even Paul, ever the perfectionist, seemed to love.

So George drank alone. And now he was coming back to the hotel alone, arms empty and mind clouded so he didn’t have to think about who he wished was in them. The view of their floor greeted him before he was ready to meet it and a groan left his lips.

He composed himself against the peeling wallpaper for a few minutes before steeling himself and trudging into the room he shared with Paul.

He found the slightly older man alone, surprisingly, strumming away on his guitar, fingers flashing and angry and not caring that they were making discordant sounds.

“Where’s John?” he muttered, letting the door slam behind him.

“With Stu,” Paul bit out, strumming hard again.

Oh. Right.

George had forgotten he wasn’t the only one that could be jealous. (Or something like that, it wasn’t that he was so jealous anyway, but-)

“Hmm,” George said, flopping down onto his bed. His stomach hated him for that, churning and sending a brief taste of bile to the back of his throat. “Guess you an’ I are one in the same then, eh?”

Paul stopped playing. George replayed his last words back over in his head, taking a minute to let it dawn on him. He shouldn’t have said that.

There came the sound of Paul moving his guitar to the side of the bed, and then more shuffling George’s deaf-from-a-crowded-bar ears couldn’t interpret. So late an hour, so complicated of feelings. His head felt like a brick.

Paul must have stood up in the lengthy amount of time it took George to figure all those sounds out (the shucking of a jacket and belt and shoes), for he was then standing over George’s bed, looking threatening as a shadow in the dark room.

“What do you mean?”

“What?”

“What did you mean, ‘we’re one in the same’?”

George knew. He knew what Paul meant, the question he was asking without even fuckin asking it, bitter with only half-wisdom on his side. (Paul was wise enough to figure himself out, not quite enough for other people. Though, of course, he was still a teenager, so there may have been lack of maturity involved as well.)

“Jus’…” George started, heaving his upper half from where it had finally rested comfortably on the lumpy mattress. “Jus’…”

He’d never been good at putting his feelings right. Never been good at explanations or confrontation or any of the shit you were supposed to be able to say to someone when you felt violated or when you wanted something. So maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the sheer-fucking-unfairness, but something deep inside made George gather all his feelings and spit them out of his mouth.

“You’re not the only one who gets to act jealous an’- an’ be a prick to everyone because of it. You do it too! Don’t be sittin’ there all stupid an’ angry and envious when you’re just as bad as John leavin’ with Stu to do god-knows-what. That’s not fuckin’ fair.”

George got the impression he sounded whiny, so he closed his mouth, not wanting to give Paul any reason to call him a child or immature or anything so harsh. (Barely nine months. Barely nine months and he felt entitled to treat him like that.)

“What…?” Paul’s face wasn’t clear to George even though he’d shifted and his feet were in between Paul’s feet and he was looking up at his face. This didn’t mean that he didn’t know the exact expression that was etched there.

Ticked brow, slanted mouth, bottom lip pulled slightly in. George had studied this face at length. He knew how it looked when confused.

“I’m here, fuckin’ off by myself while you’re out with John, givin’ each other a hand or some utter bullshite like that, leavin’ me alone. An’ that’s why it’s not fuckin’ fair for me to come home an’ you to be awake an’ upset an’ goin’ ‘what?’ like you don’t fuckin’ know exactly what.”

If George was the type of person who cried, he’d be in tears by now, he’d be ugly-crying and sniveling and shit and Paul probably would’ve backed away instead of doing what he did instead, which was to sink down next to George on the bed and sigh.

“I…” he started, then stopped. It almost made sense. Such an eloquent person, yet when the quiet one spoke up, all his words lost. “How do you feel about me then?” he asked instead, turning the burden of talking back to George.

The room was still dark, his head was still fogged, Paul’s shoulder brushed his and he shuddered. That should’ve said it all, really.

“What do you mean?” he asked, unintentionally mirroring Paul’s question from earlier.

“You’re jealous of me-“

“I’m jealous of John.”

“Oh. Well… right, well, jealous of him then.” Paul paused again like he was going to say something else. “For…?”

“For replacin’ me.”

“Oh.”

“Continue,” George offered, motioning with his hand.

“You’re jealous of John… for replacin’ you… an’ you’re angry at me for bein’—“ George wondered if he’d admit it, “—jealous of Stuart.” If George was a bit more sober he’d be impressed. “So I just wanna know what you think of me. Are you angry or do you wish that you were in John’s place, gettin’ to be with me like…”

George’s brain alerted him to a tone that hadn’t been in Paul’s voice before. Something almost flirtatious, walking a dangerous line between something he wanted and something he wasn’t sure he wanted. He’d always just wanted to be close to Paul. Who wouldn’t want that? But this close, what the way his hands reaching down into the gap between his and Paul’s thighs implied, this close he’d never thought of before. (And so what if that was a lie, it wasn’t like everyone was telling the truth tonight.)

“George?” Paul asked, letting George lace their fingers together.

“This is what I think of you,” he said, instead of answering the not-really-question, and put his other hand on Paul’s cheek.

“What—?”

“You known exactly what.” And George kissed him.

He hadn’t had many kisses in his life time, exactly, but enough to know when a kiss was good. Kissing Paul was good. Not right, something this taboo couldn’t possibly be right, but good nonetheless, heavenly somehow, Paul’s favorite—perfect.

Paul’s lips were soft and small and wet, and George couldn’t believe he was kissing them, that their lips were the ones meeting and not Paul and John’s like they always threatened to. Then Paul pulled away just a second to breathe, gasping and moaning just the tiniest bit, which sent George’s mind away, leaving him unprepared for when Paul dove in again.

George pushed him down into the mattress and Paul let him and Paul was letting him, and he was kissing back and…

They pulled away eventually and George rolled off of Paul’s chest, not wanting to crush him with his… well he didn’t weigh much so it might have been fine, but even still.

“That’s how I feel about you,” he managed to say, voice the tiniest bit wrecked from kissing for so long.

“I… me too… how I feel about you too,” Paul said, sounding like he was in a dream, somewhere far away.

This confused George. He’d only just figured out he felt for Paul this way, and didn’t he… didn’t John and Paul…

“What about John?”

“What about him?” Paul asked.

“Don’t you… how do you feel about him?”

George felt Paul turn toward him, so he turned too, and they were facing with each other and this was confrontation, a thing George wasn’t good at.

“I don’t… me an’ John are friends, Georgie. That’s it.”

“But you… but why…” There were several things that didn’t make sense about this. If Paul really liked him, wanted to kiss him and be with him, why did he spend all his time with John? Why did he ignore George, why was he only even here in their room because John was with Stuart?

“No.”

“No?”

“That’s still not fair,” George whispered, pretending that tears weren’t pricking his eyes. (And maybe he was the kind of person who cried.) “You can’t be tellin’ me you feel this way about me an’ then ignore me an’ be mopey when John’s gone. You can’t do that, Paul. What is that kinda shit?”

“I…” Paul started, then stopped again, losing his eloquence all over. “I don’ know…”

That wasn’t good enough. George said so and Paul’s eyebrows turned into each other and George wondered how he could save this friendship.

He didn’t have any time to think about that though because Paul kissed him again, and he wanted this, and this was what he wanted… wasn’t it?

“Paul…” George pulled away from the kiss. (How could something that felt so good be so bad and wrong and-)

“George, I don’ know how to explain myself. Maybe I was jus’ so scared that you were gonna reject me that I spent all my time with John to avoid that. But I promise, really, I promise, Geo, I don’ feel this way about John.”

The thing was, George wasn’t sure if he believed him. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to. But… Paul looked at him again, and the room was dark, and his eyes were shining, and they were alone.

So if they kissed a few more times or fell asleep in the same bed together, that would be enough right now. (And if John and Stuart came back the next morning, John’s collarbone littered with suspicious marks… Well, Paul wore them too, and George could lose a bit of the green in his eyes.)

[the-fiction-witch]

Morning

MOVIE NOWHERE BOY

COUPLE PAUL X READER

RATING SMUT!!!!

I stood looking out the window seeing the dew across the grass and the clouds in the sky, the sky that strange colour before the sun rose but enough light that you could see. A little condensation on the inside of the window the little white paint slowly breaking off in little ways on the windowsill. My little box of guitar picks sat on one side on the other a small plant pot no bigger then tea cup with some dark dirt and a little yellow flower.

"Ummm paul. What are you doing up so early?" I heard her sweet voice smile her voice groggy and tried but still bubbly and sweet

"I can't sleep. I didn't mean to wake you" I told her turning away from the window closing the red curtains seeing the little room I had learnt to call my home.

I moved out of my dad's house he wanted to move away from the old place anyways, so I had got a little flat well I say flat it was a house someone divided up, I had the Downstairs and someone else lived upstairs I didn't know I rarely saw them honestly. My bedroom was nothing to shout about I had a double bed with soft white and red covers, a bedside table with a glass of water, the wardrobe built Into the wall, a chest of draws with my mirror, my comb and a few odds and ends scattered across the top a few boxers and socks leaking out the draws. But most importantly the most beautiful thing in my room...

Y/n, my sweet girlfriend. Laid in my bed wrapped up in the covers her sweet y/h/c hair matted and messy from tossing and turning in her sleep relaxed and loose from her usual sculpted curls. Her make up gone leaving her beautiful skin, pale lips and dark circles under her eyes. Her body was wrapped up so tight where she must have been cold, she saw me looking and sat up having a little strech keeping the covers around her waist as she wore only my white shirt that I usually had under my button downs using it as her nightie it falling slightly off her shoulder revealing bare skin from her Arm, shoulder and chest.

"You didn't, good morning" she cooed

"Good morning, what are you doing up so early?' I asked her going over and sitting on my bed hearing the springs creak as I did

"I missed you" she shurgs her shoulders playfully moving her head to one side with that adorable little smile "I got all lonesome without you" she giggled putting her knees up to her chest

"I'm sorry beautiful, I couldn't sleep is all. I didn't wanna bother you"

"It's okay, what are you thinking about?' she smiled moving down the bed and giving my nose a kiss "what's going on it that head"

"Just thinking"

"Your always thinking paul. You don't ever stop." She giggled "what are you thinking about?" She asks going back to lean against my headboard

"How beautiful you look in my bed."

"Awww your too sweet" she blushed

"You do. You really do y/n. I wish you could sleep in my bed every night"

"I'd like that too, maybe soon we could... Snuggle up every night and every morning" she giggled

"You- you'd really want to?"

"Of course I would, I love staying at yours" she giggled

"I love when you stay over too" I smiled giving her lips a little kiss "but if you want to then... I'd be happy for you to"

"Really?"

"Of course, y/n you stay here atleast four nights a week as it is. If you wanted to move in you'd be more than welcome" I smiled

"I'll think about it Mr" she giggled getting out of bed and giving my cheek a kiss she intentionally wiggled her butt as she walked my shirt barely concealing her from my eyes as she walked across the room and out the door to the rest of the apartment, I smiled looking at the mess she had made of my bed the pillows out of place, the covers a mess but I smiled you could almost see the indent in the old mattress where she always sleeps on this side when she wondered back she handed me a cup of tea and she sat back in bed with her own cup "what's the plan today?"

"I need a shower. Then tidy up, john's coming over got some stuff he needs to show me" I told her having a sip of tea

"Ummm" she hummed her fingers wrapped some delicately around the cup

"What's the ummm for?"

"That means we don't have time for cuddles this morning" she whined pulling a sad face at me

"You had cuddles. All night"

"But I'd like some more" she whines putting her tea down and opening her arms I smiled putting mine down to and giving her a hug she bundled up closely as snug as a bug with me I smiled and gave her a kiss before getting up leaving her all sad again

"I'm sorry beautiful, but I need my shower" I told her going to my draws getting some clothes for the day today

"Paul" she cooed making me turn to see her sat against the headboard my shirt hung low, the covers away from her, her knees pulled to her chest she smiled playfully at me with blush in her cheeks as she licked her lips looking at me and she opened her legs wide, my shirt doing nothing to conceal her, I couldn't help staring at her plump lips, her already engorged clit, her glistening pussy, her cute butt perched on my matress, I bit my lip hard feeling my shorts tighten just looking at her like that

"Ooh. I see." I smirked making sure my curtains where closed shutting the door to the rest of the apartment, I took a single specifically I put a spell on you. I know what that song does to her from the side throwing the paper on the dresser setting it on to spin and smirking crawling over ever with her "hummm my beautiful girl horny?" I whispered in her ear hearing the first beats of the song kick up she didn't even answer she just grabbed my face and pulled me to kiss her, I smirked kissing back adding a little tongue into the hot and heavy kiss till I pulled back winking at her before kissing down her jaw, then down her neck, down her chest feeling her breasts against me concealed by the shirt, I smirked wrapping my arms around her thighs licking her sweet pussy, kissing her clit and burying my head between her legs listening to her squeal playing with my hair oftentimes tugging or pushing when she wanted more, I licked and sucked and sometimes even gently nibbled on all her most sensitive of places I knew from years of dating, filled by her hormonal gasps and moans, I kept going becoming rather mercilous on her feeling her legs shaking as she got closer and closer to

"AAAAHHHHH! UUuughhhh! Paul!!! Uuuuuuughhh!" She sqeauled at the top of her lungs I smirked sitting up wiping my mouth with the back of my hand looking at her as she gasps calming down, in her own little wet patch from her squirt. I smirked down at her feeling myself throb for her, I pushed my shorts down revealing my hard erection she caught eyes on it immediately and blushed a little I smirked glancing down at myself and then back to her it was milliseconds but she knew what I wanted she smiled taking a gulp of the water on the side table before crawling down the bed and kissing her wet kisses all over my shaft

"Fuck beautiful-" I gasped feeling those soft kisses "y/n please!" I groaned struggling to watch those perfect lips kissing my cock she smiled up at me innocently and evily, before taking me completely in her mouth "uughhhh! Oohh god! Fuck! Y/n!" I moaned grabbing her hair my head thrown back in pleasure feeling her licks and sucks, moving her head back and forth, from base to tip. I pushed her back leaving her laid giggling at me I smirked pouncing on her and kissing those evil lips I knew I could taste myself on her lips and she could likely taste herself on my own but I didn't care I pulled back grabbing her hips and pushing her to lay on her stomach she giggled and did as I asked sitting her knees up, I moved and instantly slipped inside "fuck!! Y/n! Uuuuhhhhh!" I groaned not wasting a single second moving as fast, as hard, as deep as I possibly could listening to her scream all the while my hips working on there own going crazy just feeling his good she felt, the sounds of the bed creaking and sqeeking, our skin slapping together, get faster and faster "uuuuhhhhh uuuuhhhhh!! Y/n! Beautiful.... I'm gonna cum!" I groaned trying so hard not to loose it, I didn't need to last long I just wanna make her cum, one more time! She didn't respond still moaning and screaming for me, and I couldn't take it anymore I moved her slightly pulling her back against my chest so she now sat ontop of me reverse cowgirl as I sat on my knees I almost ripped my shirt off her leaving her naked moving her just as fast as I had been but my hands folding those sexy breasts making her screams get louder and louder feeling how much wetter she was getting as she was now practically dripping down my legs I moved one hand away from her breasts to mercilously rub on her clit making her grab my hair pulling me to kiss her neck "come on beautiful, cum for me" I smirked in her ear and that very second she screamed like banshee, I kept rubbing and kept bouncing her letting her ride it out even if I knew I and my bed were now soaked from her squirt I knew I was so close so I threw her back down and continued pounding fast and hard for a few more seconds before I felt that pleasure wave hit me and I instantly pulled out and came all over her back and butt before collapsing on my side of the bed in my back gasping for breath still getting over my orgasum. "Fuck I love you y/n"

"I love you too paul" she smiled gasping too as she just laid there on her stomach

"Now, I need to get pants on john will be here in like ten minutes" I laughed getting up slowly "you should also put clothes on" I told her as I got some boxes on and my jeans getting a clean undershirt

"Meh... John will understand that you fucked your girlfriend too good for her to move" she giggled

"Did I now?" I smirked going over and slipping two fingers inside her finger fucking her hard rubbing in her clit making her sqeaul kicking her feet

"Nooooo leave me alone, evil boy!" She whines kicking my hand away "I'll put clothes on" she sighed climbing out of bed "meanie" she whines bending over naked at her suitcase looking for clothes waving her butt at me and sticking her tongue out I put my shirt on going over and slapping her butt making her jump up into my arms

"Dirty tongue" I smirked

"It's not dirty" she whines

"Yes it is. I know where it's been beautiful" I smirked giving her a kiss "you get dressed, I'll tidy up. I'll make another tea when John gets here" I told her taking the cups and going out to the little flat setting the cups on the kitchen side by the burner, generally tidying the house up as y/n for dressed in the bedroom I saw her perched on the bed using my mirror to do her hair and make up just as I heard the door so I went and let John in "morning" I said giving him a faint smile fixing my hair as I did

"Morning" he laughs putting his guitar case on the side by the chair

"Tea?"

"Yeah go on then" he says so I went to the kitchen filling up the kettle and making the cups up he came and stood on the other side of the little counters that seperated the living room and kitchen looking at the cups and he smirked "hi y/n" he called to the bedroom

"Hi John, out inna minute" she called back

"I had a feeling she was here"

"How so?" I asked waiting for the kettle to boil

"She's always here" he laughs

"True."

"That and you need an air freshener"

"What why?" I asked rather confused

"Because paul it fucking stinks if sex in this flat"

"What does sex smell like?"

"Like jizz, sweat and squirt usually" he laughs

"That's not the flat, that's just paul" y/n smiled coming around the corner in her little black dress her hair done and makeup prestige "he didn't shower this morning"

"Hey!"

"It's true" she shurgs

"Nope it's the flat, or you two. Or both" john laughed as I made the tea up "you two have sex this morning then?"

"Yep" she giggled

"How could you tell? The house smell?" I asked

"that and I was here earlier, I waited outside having a cig and I could hear you two screaming"

"You know a weird amount about our sex lives" I told him sipping my tea

"I imagine so do you twos neighbors seriously... I can hear you from down the street" he laughs

"We just like being loud and passionate don't we paul" she giggled cuddling me

"How can I be quiet with my beautiful girl doing such dirty things to me" I smirked kissing her

"It's fine... Just rub in even more that I'm single" john sighed

"Sorry" she giggled

"It's fine, you two are adorable" he sighed.

[lennonknowsmysins]

could you do the gangster au but the “turning point” in their relationship?? i love your work so much 🥰

pt. 3 to gangster!George

tw: mobster gets a little too handsy, mild violence, arguing

-

You and George had been married for a month and you’d had maybe five conversations with him. He was a reserved man but you weren’t sure what else you expected from a gangster. Truthfully, you weren’t sure you minded. Since your conversation with Cynthia, Linda and Maureen, he didn’t put you on edge every time he was in the room but he still intimated you. George was practically always working, spending all day in his study (which you still had yet to see) and coming to bed late. He never tried to wake you up but you still liked to wait for him, pretending to be asleep.

Realistically, you figured you shouldn’t be too upset with him for not making much of an effort to get to know you considering hadn’t attempted to reach out to him either. Still, when the only time you really saw him was dinner and he spent most of the time talking to his mates, you couldn’t deny that you felt ignored. It wasn’t like you were thrilled to be married either.

The real struggle was trying to find something to do with yourself. Normally, you’d be busy with school but part of your father cutting off your freedom including forcing you to drop out of university. Now nothing seemed to hold your interest.

Linda, who you learned was a journalist (making her and Paul’s relationship taboo in the mob world), had begun enlisting you to spell check her articles. You spent a good amount of time with Cynthia as she’d invited you to help her paint the baby nursery. She was a lovely woman and you enjoyed her company but even as you painting those little blue birds and bounced baby names off one another, you couldn’t help the looming feeling of loneliness. You were just disconnected from the rest of them. Cynthia, Linda and Maureen were involved with each others lives while you...well, you were just there.

You were manifesting that your first public outing with George - some sort of annual gathering for allied mobs - would do something to help the disconnect between the two of you.

-

Upon entering the mansion, you pressed yourself closer to George. You may have not felt entirely comfortable with him but since Cynthia and Linda hadn’t been able to come (Cynthia because she was pregnant, Linda because of her profession) and Maureen was very much looking forward to having a date night with Ringo, George was your lifeline for the night.

The hall was full of men in fancy suits with dark looks in their eyes, most of them appearing to be twice your age. One by one, they came up to George, asking him about business deals and his father before eventually landing on you, at which point, George thankfully steered you away.

“Sorry about all of them.” George apologized, finding a seat on a couch in the corner of the room, “They’re swingers, the whole lot. ‘s why my da stopped coming to these events.”

You snorted as you sat down, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am. They’ve been dropping hints that they’re interested in an orgy ever since we got married. Quite frankly, I’m not sure how to tell them no.” George said, shooting you a look. You burst into laughter, making George smile.

“Wait here, I have to talk to someone but I’ll be right back.” George told you, squeezing your shoulder before standing and beckoning to Paul. Paul smiled at you apologetically, following George and leaving you all alone in the corner. You watched Maureen dance with Ringo. You wished Linda and Cyn were here, if George wouldn’t dance with you, you were sure they would. At least, you wouldn’t be lonely.

Your bottom lip trembled but before you could feel too sorry for yourself, you felt the couch dip. A handsome blond man with the most dazzling blue eyes you’d ever seen had sat next to you. He wore a suit of velvet purple and had a martini glass in one hand and a curious grin on his face. A feeling of dread immediately crept into your gut.

“Now, why would a lovely lady such as yourself be sitting here all by herself?” He hummed in a confident tone. Unsure of how to react to the situation, you turned your eyes to your drink, swishing the clear liquid around.

“Waiting for someone.” You murmured back. You could’ve sworn that as soon as you’d said that, he scooted closer to you.

“You can call me Yates.” He said, although you hadn’t asked, “I don’t believe I caught your’s?”

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “I’m not sure I feel comfortable telling you that.”

“Aw, why not? Is it because I’m a big, scary gangster?” Yates chuckled, definitely scooting closer this time. He continued when you didn’t respond, “That’s fine baby, I’ll come up with one for you. It’s just important you know mine so you know what to scream later.”

Your face twisted in disgust and you would’ve attempted to get up had it not been for his hand curling around your thigh. The sudden grip made you freeze, giving Yates a chance to press himself against you.

“Let go of me. I’m here with my...my h-husband.” You stammered, trying to sound tough.

“Come on now, you don’t sound so sure of that. I doubt that George is that much of a husband anyhow.” He leered, tapping your cheek. Just as you were about to retort, Yates was being dragged off of you.

An angry George stood before you, clutching Yates’ collar in his fist. Everyone around you had stopped what they were doing to watch you.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch my wife.”

With that simple warning, he dropped the creep and grabbed your wrist, pulling you from your seat. As he brought you to the exit, the crowd resumed the party as though nothing had happened. You assumed this sort of thing happened often at mob events.

Once you were outside, George let go of you to light a cigarette, not bothering to look at you as he took a drag. John and Paul burst through the door after you.

“What the fuck just happened mate?” John asked.

“Yates had his hands all over (y/n).” George spat bitterly. The two men turned to you, shivering in your dress.

The alarm on Paul’s face dropped to concerned, “Are you alright, love?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit freaked out.” You shrugged, still trying to process the event. You hadn’t seen George this angry before.  

“Yer cryin’.” John pointed out bluntly. You blinked, touching your cheek. Huh. You hadn’t realized.

George tilted his head towards you with an unreadable expression. He placed the cigarette between his lips, shrugging off his suit jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders.

“‘m taking her home.” He decided, putting an arm around you, “Paul, can you take John, Rich and Mo in your car?”

“Course, but-”

George didn’t wait for Paul to finish, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards his Mercedes. You glanced behind you to see Ringo and Maureen had joined John and Paul, who were explaining the situation to them. You caught Maureen’s sympathetic look before the car door closed.

-

The entire ride was silent, an awkward, bitter silence sitting between you and George. He didn’t even look at you as you walked up to the house, leaving the door for you to close.

“Go to bed.” George ordered gruffly, his back turned to you as he headed toward his office.

You stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He hadn’t really just spoken to you like you were a misbehaving child and not his wife.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

George paused. Then he turned around, his eyebrows set in annoyance. He wasn’t used to people questioning him, “What did you say?”

“I asked if you were joking about telling me to go to bed.” You huffed, rolling your eyes, “You know, just because I’m your wife doesn’t mean you control me.”

He glared at you, his eye twitching as he tried to think of a response. You saved him the trouble,

“For the record, you didn’t have to make such a big scene back there.”

“He had his hands all OVER you!” He spluttered, spit flying from his mouth, “And it wasn’t like you were doing anything to stop him!”

“I was scared, a strange man was invading my space because my husband completely abandoned me at a party where I didn’t know anyone!” You shout, your voice shaking as it echoed through the ridiculously large foyer.

George’s sour expression softened and you notice he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He swallowed thickly, “I had to talk to someone.”

“You still left me all alone.” You whispered angrily, “I know that this isn’t what either of us wanted and if I could, I’d go back and stop my father from getting us in this situation but we don’t have that choice.

You took a shuttering breath, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before continuing,

“George, I get that we’re from two completely different worlds but I just had mine completely uprooted for your’s. You’ve barely spoken to me since the first two days after the wedding. For god’s sake, we sleep in the same damn bed and I don’t know that we’ve ever had a conversation. Y’know, the only thing I actually know about you is that you’re a mobster? I...I was just really hoping that tonight could fix that.”

George’s face didn’t change throughout the course of your rant but there was something that looked like a mix of surprise and guilt in his brown eyes. Ever the man of few words, he didn’t respond - you didn’t know if he didn’t want to or if he didn’t know how. You shook your head.

“No, no, you know what? I am gonna go to bed. I need some sleep.�� You muttered, turning away from him and storming up the stairs without another word.

Linda was waiting for you at the top of the stairs but you brushed by her in silence, too pissed for any intellectual conversation. You slammed the bedroom door shut, not bothering to turn the lights or take your clothes off. You curled up above the covers, looking out the window.

The wind blew softly, gently rustling the leaves of the tree peaking through the glass. A single tear trailed down your cheek as you thought about how you hadn’t even gotten to dance with George. The night had been spoiled from the start.

At some point, you finally managed to fall asleep, missing the lanky, mop toped figure that took your shoes off and tucked you in.

[lick-me-lennon22]

Their favorite places to kiss you 💋

⚠️⚠️⚠️ SLIGHT NSFW ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Paul:

lips

you often catch Paul longingly staring at your lips as you speak

when you've finished, it's always: "That's lovely, darling," followed immediately by Paul capturing your lips in a sweet, passionate kiss

his impatience gets to him on occasion, however

sometimes when you're on an especially lengthy ramble, he'll cut you off with a quick peck on the lips

"Pardon the interruption, love- I just couldn't help meself ;)"

inner thighs

Paul's other favorite place to kiss you is your inner thighs

there's something about the softness and sensitivity of the skin there that's so alluring to him

in the bedroom, he'll begin to kiss all the way down your body..

he'll place feather-soft kisses all over you, taking extra care to go painfully slow, the ache between your legs becoming harder to ignore

once he finally reaches his destination he takes his time placing sweet, sensual kisses on each of your thighs, making a point of looking up at you from between them

"Paul, stop teasing!" you whine, exasperated, as your fingers tug at his soft hair

"Someone's a little impatient, hm...? Alright darling, I'll quit torturing ye," he chuckles, finally giving you what you've begged for ;)

John:

top of your head

being that he's quite a bit taller than you, one of John's favorite places to kiss you is the top of your head

aside from being one of the easiest, he likes to make you feel protected and loved

it reminds him of how delicate you are compared to him (as well as reminding him of his own height and strength, which is another motivator) and brings out the protector instinct in him

John will walk over to you when you're sat at your desk or making tea in the kitchen and place a gentle kiss on the top of your head, usually followed by him ruffling your hair affectionately

neck

John's other favorite spot to place kisses (and love bites) is your neck

he'll often communicate to you that he's 'in the mood' by turning to face you in bed, pulling you close and kissing your neck as he mumbles sweet nothings into your ear

he adores seeing his marks on your skin, so those kisses almost always come with a hickey or two

occasionally John will end up sucking too harshly on your delicate skin, his teeth painfully grazing your neck

"Ah- oww John, that hurts!"

"Sorry love, I got carried away. Yer just too irresistible, 's hard to help meself~"

George:

forehead

when George is around you, there's never a shortage of forehead kisses

whenever he notices that you're fixated on something or looking stressed, he'll stride over to where you're sat and give you a soft peck on the forehead

"What's got you so distracted, doll?" he'll ask tenderly

if you decide you want to talk about it with him he'll sit and listen intently, offering "hm"s and "ahh"s of understanding as he rubs gentle circles on your back or shoulder

tummy

George adores your tummy- so much that he makes sure to place a kiss on the soft skin there every time he gets the chance

if you're wearing a crop top, changing for bed, or even if you stretch and your shirt rides up- George is always there to remind you of his love and appreciation for your body with a quick kiss on your stomach

he chuckles and grins, shaking his head when you tug your shirt down to cover yourself

"No need to be embarrassed babe- your stomach is gorgeous, as is the rest of ye"

Ringo:

nose tip

Ringo finds it absolutely adorable when you get overly excited about something

he loves it when you ramble on passionately about something you really like, words flying from your lips at a mile a minute

after raving for some time about your new obsession you become self-conscious, blurting out a "Shit, have I really been talking this whole time?? Oh don't listen to me Ritchie, I'm sorry, I keep going on and on, I'm just exc-"

"Relax, sweetheart," he soothes with a quick peck on the tip of your nose, "I could listen to you ramble for eternity"

cheeks

often when you're visibly feeling down, Ringo will approach you with an, "Is everything all right, lovey? What's the matter?"

if you aren't feeling up to talking about it, he doesn't push

"Hmm.. I know what'll cheer you up," he says with a kind-hearted yet mischievous grin

"Oh..? Wh-" you begin but don't even have time to respond before Ringo is on you, peppering your cheeks (and the rest of your face) with soft kisses that make you squirm and giggle

"Ahh! Haha- Ritchie!! It tick--ahAHA-les!!" you manage to squeak out between laughs

by the time he's done you've forgotten what you were ruminating about, and Ringo's mission is accomplished

[lovely-rita-meter-maidd]

For the rooftop accident; I think Jim and Mike would want to visit Paul after the accident. And Mal would want to see him too. From what I've read Mal and Paul were very close friends.

John doesn’t know what to say when Jim and Mike arrive.

They’re aware, from what he’d gathered previously, what was happening in the band. That he and Paul had been arguing and that the Beatles weren’t going to last much longer. He knows Linda still mostly hid all the bad elements, Paul not being in a state to be able to face his mates properly, never mind his own family, but that doesn’t mean the elder McCartney is stupid to their situation.

The tension is thick, and John stands, meeting Jim’s stare before the older man flicks his eyes down to his son.

Jim’s face breaks, even if only for a second, but John’s knows that if he could, the man would be in absolute pieces. Mike is close at his side, eyes lingering on the tube down his brother’s throat.

“What have they said?”

Jim’s voice is gruff, though it holds an emotional tone, something John’s never witnessed before. It’s sounds similar to when Paul talks about his mother, and that’s why John has to stop himself from bawling on the spot.

“Not much. They’ve induced him into a coma for a few days, to see if he’ll get through it.”

The implication that Paul’s so badly wounded that he may not even make it through the night makes him nearly throw up. But he can’t let them know how upset he is, they don’t know him well enough.

He watches as Jim moves towards the bed, bending over to gently smooth the hair on Paul’s forehead.

It’s such an intimate scene that John feels guilty for watching. An arm comes to rest on his shoulder, and he looks over to see Mike, eyes wet, but a smile that John knows too well.

Even as a kid, Mike was well aware of what his brother and best friend did when they snuck around at night and disappeared in the day. And he’d given them a smile to let them know it was okay. He knew, but he didn’t mind.

So the smile provides John with a sense of security, that Mike knows that this has hit him harder than anyone else, even if they weren’t strictly together anymore.

“Have you spoken to Linda?” Jim asks, though he keeps his eyes on his son, stroking his jaw, fingers gently brushing over the thick beard lining his cheeks.

“She’s seen him, but had to go home to sort Heather out. She- she’ll probably want to see you,” John replies, wiping his eyes quickly before the older man looks up.

Jim nods, lets his eyes linger once more on his son as he sniffs, before he pulls away.

“Mal’s here to see him too. He came in with Brian, but the poor guy is absolutely desperate to see him,” Mike says, patting John’s shoulder once more before pulling away.

“Are you gonna stay here, John?” Jim asks, and John finds that he can’t lie, but he kind of doesn’t want to tell them that he doesn’t think he can leave the hospital at all, so doesn’t see the point of going back to the waiting room now.

“I’m not-. I don’t-”

“It’s okay, Lennon,” Jim states, interrupting his stumbling mantra. “Jus’ look after him. You’re the only one that’s gonna be able to pull him through this.”

John doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. Jim’s never been so honest with him, never been so open.

So he dumbly nods, watching as the pair head towards the door.

“We’ll be back tomorrow morning once we’ve gotten some kip. The drive down here was a nightmare, but if anything changes, ring us,” Jim says, a hint of a smile lining his lips.

And then with one last fleeting glance at Paul, they’re gone.

[blackberry-gingham]

could you maybe write about how all the boys would each take care of the reader? maybe the reader has had a really long day and they just come home pretty much crying and with a headache,,, and then just the boys comforting the reader🥺🥺

thank you, i love your writing so much !!

skjrlkfjrilrfj this ask is like perfect in line tbh. Today has been rough for sure, so thank you anon, wherever you are.

I hope you enjoy these imagines as much as I did filling them :)

George

As soon as you walk in, the stress is written all over your face

George walks out of the kitchen with a smile as he comes to greet you, but his expression falls as soon as he sees you

“Ey now, what’s wrong love?”, he puts aside the towel he was using and comes straight over to give you a hug

He smells like herbs and spices, and you can hear the sounds of the kitchen just a room or so away

Unfortunately, you don’t have much to say

Today was just... tough

You lean in, letting him hold you for a little while

George rubs your back with comforting circles before inviting you to the dinner table

“Come on now, I’ve made your favorite, and whatever it is, you can tell me all about it”

Turns out he’s right, tonight's meal is your favorite

Perfectly prepared as always by your wonderful boyfriend

George gives you some space to eat a bit and collect yourself before telling him about your miserable time today

And when you're ready, he listens in attentive silence until you’re through

“That is rather awful. I’m sorry you had to deal with that love... Can I do anything?”

You shake your head no, and the repressed feeling of hopelessness you’ve been carrying all day washes over you, slowly dragging tears from your eyes

George puts down his utensils and pulls around his chair right beside you

You lean into him one more time and have a little cry while he holds you tight

When you’ve gotten it all out, he kisses your forehead and asks if you want to finish your meal

You say no... Thanks.

George kisses you again, “Why don’t you go get comfortable love, I’ll clear up here and meet you"

“Thanks...”, you sniff and wobble to your feet, before shuffling off to the bedroom

You clean yourself up a bit and change into your cozy PJs before slipping into bed

Just as you’re fishing for your sherpa blanket, George comes in following a gentle knock

He’s all dressed down to his undershirt and dress pants, which he quickly exchanges for a pair of PJ pants himself

At long last, he climbs into bed and gets under the sheets with you

Instinctively, you cuddle up to him and George wraps you in the blanket before holding you close

“Can I get you anything?”

You shake your head, and scoot a little closer, just enjoying his soothing company

“Right then...”, George kisses your hair, then your forehead, and gives you a little squeeze, “I love you”

A little smile transforms your frown at that, "...Love you too Georgie"

John

John is working on some music sheets in his tiny little office when a quiet rap comes at the door

“Come in dear”, he calls

The door creaks open, but John doesn’t turn around until he hears your voice, “John... Are you busy?”

He can hear you holding back tears even from here

John drops everything and turns around to find his suspicions to be correct

A few wet streaks glisten down your cheeks leading up to puffy, red eyes as you stand wrapped in your blanket

“No, of course not! What’s wrong?”, John looks so worried for you

He gets up and rubs a little warmth into your arms

You don’t say anything, instead, leaning against him for support as you cry some more

When it's clear you don't have the strength for it, John picks you up easily in his strong arms and carries you to somewhere more comfortable so you can catch your breath

A while ago, you made a little nest of blankets and pillows on the floor of your living room

It’s perfect for tea, reading, naps, and cuddling

So naturally, John takes you to your favorite spot and kneels down to deposited you on the padded blanket floor

He rests you against the big pillows and snuggles up beside you

John holds you tightly, providing a comforting pressure and few light kisses here and there until you’re calm enough to speak

With one more long kiss to your forehead, John asks, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and tell him all about what happened today

John listens attentively, and when you’ve said your peace, he wants to know what he can do to help

That brings a little smile to your face

“You’re already doing enough”, you say

But John doesn’t want to settle for “enough”, he wants to do more

So, he reaches into the corner where one of his guitars sits tucked away

He knows how much you love his music

“How about a song?”

John takes requests as you rest against his shoulder, singing soft, acoustic versions of his usually upbeat music

Turns out, his little trick works, and before long, you’re singing along with him

But before your little session is through, John makes sure to dedicate a special, heartfelt rendition of Any Time At All, just for you ❤️

Paul

Today has been awful

You storm thorough the front door and head straight for your room

Meanwhile, Paul is left dazed on the couch, lowering his newspaper slowly

He didn’t even get a chance to say hello, you blew by so fast

Obviously something is wrong...

See, things of this sort have happened before, so by now Paul is prepared

He puts on the kettle and gathers up one of his clean sweatshirts from the drying rack, and comes back to make two cups of cocoa

This gives him just enough time to let you collect your thoughts and do what you must to calm down on your own terms first

When everything's ready, Paul nudges the door open and finds you completely covered by the bedsheets, muffling the sounds of your soft cries

Paul’s heart breaks for you, and he makes sure to announce his presence gently so as not to give you a scare

“Go away...”, you moan

“Aw, come now... Will you at least look at what I brought you?”

You peak out from under the pile of sheets to see two steaming cups and your favorite sweater of Paul’s to steal

“I thought you might want these”, Paul eases himself into bed with you, making sure to not spill any cocoa

First, he puts aside the mugs and unfolds the warm sweater

“Arms up”

You comply and Paul slips it over your head, enveloping you in it’s warmth and the comforting scent of him

While he retrieves the drinks, you wrap up in the blankets once more

Paul hands you your mug, urging you to be careful

Once you’re settled, he asks if you want to talk or if you’d still like to be left alone

You’ve decided you’ve changed your mind

Perhaps a talk would be good...

So you tell him all about who’s been causing trouble, and what’s been giving you so much stress, and this and that inconvenience, until everything is out

Paul only adds some light commentary or asks a few questions, but otherwise he lets you have the floor

You appreciate his responses, however

That classic Paul McCartney charm never fails to put a smile on your face, even when things seem bleak or tough

Paul loves you so much... He’s always there for you

By the time your story is finished, the two of you are gossiping and roasting some of the hard cases that have been stirring you up

At last, after a particularly outrageous joke, a genuine laugh escapes from you and a weight feels lifted off of Paul’s chest

Finally feeling safe and at ease, you feel like you're seeing Paul with fresh eyes for the first time all night

Rather abruptly, you lean in and press a chocolatey kiss to his lips

Not that Paul's complaining

And for the rest of the night, you sit in bed together, cuddling in peace as you finish your drinks

Ringo

After a quick stop out, Ringo has decided to come visit you with a surprise

The bus drops him off at the end of your block and he walks to your door with a spring in his step

Ringo gives a quick set of knocks on the large door and hides his surprise behind his back

He knows you're home

...so why is it taking you so long to answer?

Ringo's face falls a bit, and he begins to worry something's wrong

However, before things get too heavy in his mind, your door slowly creaks open

"Hello...?"

You can barely make out Ringo's face through the tiny crack, but even through that, you can see the grin he's wearing

"Hello! I thought I'd come visit ya, I brought ya something!"

"Oh... thanks..."

You hesitate, not sure if you want him to come in or leave you be

"... Everything alright?", Ringo's voice is soft, and laced with concern as he tries to get a better angle to see you

You shake your head no, but open the door to let him inside

Ringo walks in cautiously, and closes the door behind him

He can see now that your eyes look puffy with little bags starting to form underneath

You wipe at your eyes and hug your shoulders, "Sorry, I just um..."

But before you can finish your sentence, you have to stop just to hold back tears

"No, no don't cry, it's alright", Ringo holds out his arms to try and console you

In doing so, he reveals a fat, fuzzy little teddy bear, with stubby arms and legs and large, doe eyes

That grabs your attention in an instant

You love stuffed animals, as much as you hate to admit it, being as old as you are and all...

But Ringo doesn't judge

In fact, he figures if it makes you happy, then why not!

And after all, you do love teddy bears...

Ringo sees it's caught your attention, and he feels a touch better

"Oh, do you like it? Made me think of you", he turns the bear over, holding it in both hands, then holds it out to you with a sweet smile

You sniff, and give a tiny smile in return as you accept the gift

"Oh?", you boop the big black triangle on the end of the bear's round snout, "Cause he kind of makes me think of you..."

Your eyes flick from the stitched on smile of your bear, to the adorable smile of your boyfriend

Ringo blushes a little at the complement while you give your bear a tight hug

He rubs at the back of his neck and looks away shyly

"So... Did you want to talk maybe? Sorry, you just seem upset is all..."

You think on it a moment

"...Tell you upstairs?", You clutch your bear in one arm, and reach for Ringo with your other

"Sure", Ringo takes your hand and follows you upstairs

You situate yourself in bed and the two of you get cozy

Ringo passes you a box of tissues, just in case, and you begin to pet your bear and talk about your bad day

Of course, Ringo listens empathetically, but he can't stop stealing glances at your hands

You interupt your story as you catch his stare, "Oh, did you want to...?"

You put aside your bear and open up your arms to him

Ringo lights up with a grin and eagerly crawls into your arms

You hook your arms under his and help him adjust to a comfortable position, leaning against you

Once he's settled, you massage your fingers through his hair, and it does quite the trick for your anxiety

The simple act of holding your boyfriend makes you feel better already, but you finish your story regardless

Ringo isn't much for fancy, soothing words like the others, but he is sorry to hear it all of course

He gives you a kiss, then hugs you back for a long while

"Can I do anything for ya?"

You take a deep calming breath, and the comforting scent of Ringo's shampoo and after shave wash over you

"You're already doing it", you hug him tighter and snuggle closer

The two of you decide in that moment, without mentioning a word, to stay amongst the blankets for the rest of the day

And soon enough, all your troubles are forgotten