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violet.lily
| CEO of "okay, but" | aspiring writer | definitely tired |
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here’s the sneak peek for chapter one of my multi-chapter john x reader fic that nobody asked for but i’m giving to you anyway:
-
after what feels like the longest and dizziest ferry ride to ever exist, you shakily get off the boat, bags in tow. you thank the ferryman for his patience, and he gives you a hearty chuckle. “first time?”
“yeah,” you hiccup. you’re still trying to catch your balance and grab ahold of your things. “i’ve never really been much of an ocean person.”
“well, kid, I think you picked the wrong place to live,” he teases lightheartedly. “there’s about thirty miles of water in every direction.”
if you were in a cartoon, you feel like your jaw would drop right about now. “thirty miles?”
“yep. at least to the mainland. it’s how I make my living.”
“right,” you mutter, swallowing thickly. “well, thanks for the lift.”
“no problem. and hey,” he calls out before you turn to leave. “it’s nice to finally see someone new moving in.”
you chuckle uneasily. he throws a salute your way before driving away with the boat to its next destination, water splashing wildly behind it as it leaves. with that, you’re left alone on the dock, your head still dizzy in more ways than one. you do your best to shake the feeling off.
time to find your new home.
-
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#john pruitt#john pruitt x reader#father paul#paul hill#father paul x reader#paul hill x reader#sarah gunning#erin greene#riley flynn#sheriff hassan
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so, remember that multi-chapter fic i proposed the other day?
yep.
it's happening, folks. i'm doing it.
it might take a few days to start, but i'll be working on it! in the meantime, if you'd like to request any midnight mass content, my asks are always open for headcanons, imagines/drabbles, and one-shots. <3
#midnight mass#john pruitt#monsignor pruitt#father paul#father paul hill#john pruitt x reader#father paul x reader#erin greene#midnight mass spoilers#sarah gunning#riley flynn
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midnight mass spoilers below.
would anyone be interesting in reading a multi-chapter john x reader fic featuring the majority of the cast where the reader is a newcomer to the island who’s basically bullied-but-not-really-bullied to go to mass one sunday by erin greene which is when the reader meets john for the first time and they become genuine friends and it’s all fluffy and mutual pining until our favorite meow-meow-cat-boy-priest becomes a vampire soldier of god which is when he pushes the reader away because he doesn’t want them hurt and it causes all this angst, and then more things happen that i can’t exactly spoil if this is actually something you guys would be interested in?
because if so, hi. i’m a writer with way too much time on my hands.
just let me know!
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#john pruitt#father paul x reader#father paul hill#father paul#john pruitt x reader#monsignor pruitt#monsignor john pruitt#erin greene
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planning a midnight mass father paul fic is all fun, games, and sinnin’ until you have to decide whether to go with “crockett burns and everbody dies” or full out-of-character flanagan so that the main character can have a happy-ish ending. [long sighs]
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midnight mass spoilers below.
-
“forgive me,” he asks, and she does.
her daughter, their daughter’s dead body is lying on the ground, and mildred’s grip on her is so tight, she thinks her hand might start cramping.
the sky has turned into a beautiful bright orange color, but she knows that with the rising of the sun, her body will turn to nothing but ash. and her soul, well, who really knows where her soul will end up?
know that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
she’s never taken that so literally.
knowing that the end is only minutes away, she isn’t sure which is worse---being in a constant state of fogginess, not even knowing her own name, or knowing for certain with no doubt that she’ll be sentenced to a fiery death.
sitting by her side, john had clutched his collar and tossed it into the open lake without hesitation.
she searches in those few precious seconds to find any shred of hatred or blame in her heart for john, but she can’t. she wants to scream or cry or hit something, of course, but there’s no point in spending her last moments in anger.
then, she thinks—if she’d been given a chance to save them, to save their family from the grips of death, she couldn’t be sure that she would’ve said no to the opportunity.
‘i didn’t want you to die,’ he’d said, more broken and distraught than she’d ever seen him. but they both had lived their lives, hadn’t they? it had been torture, living side-by-side, unable to just be together. but they did, and they faded away, and that was how it was supposed to end.
but if it was the other way around, how could she have possibly said no to a second chance?
so when he turns to her and asks, “forgive me,” she does.
she kisses him for the last time as the whole world fades away and prays that maybe, by the grace of god, they’ll all get their second chance on the other side.
-
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#john pruitt#mildred gunning#sarah gunning#mildred x john#john x mildred#father paul hill#paul hill#monsignor pruitt
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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.”
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#father paul#father paul x reader#john pruitt#monsignor pruitt#john pruitt x reader#father paul hill#guys i sincerely hope you all like this#cause the amount of days i've spent on this#my eyeballs are tired#anyway i'm gonna go pass out
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guys, i’m writing, i swear.
if i don’t post something that i’ve been working on for the last few days within a couple hours, i will legitimately cry.
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#monsignor pruitt#john pruitt x reader#john pruitt#father paul x reader#father paul hill#paul hill#getting real tired of writing meow meow cat priest's sixteen different names
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midnight mass spoilers below.
okay, but let’s talk. how do you guys think mildred and john first met? like, i’m talking their very first encounter. how interesting would it be to see that play out?
we can probably assume that john wasn’t born and raised on the island, and that he was simply assigned there by the diocese. picture a young john pruitt, freshly ordained to become an official priest, and this man is told that he has to travel all the way to crockett island, usa.
i know that canonically the island was a lot more populated in its early days when compared to present time, but, i mean—how many people do you figure actually lived there? it had to be less than a few hundred people, at the very least.
so young john pruitt is told, ‘hey, you’re going to be the priest in this tiny church on this tiny island,’ and he goes, ‘welp, okay.’
i believe he got seasick at least one time on the ferry ride there, because I said so.
john finally makes it to crockett island, gets off the ferry, and immediately gets lost. there’s nobody around, pretty much a ghost town, and he’s like, ‘i have zero idea where I’m going. what the actual fu—’
anyway, he’s pretty much wandering in circles around the dock because he simply doesn’t know where to go. (obviously, at this point in time, there’s no annoying bev keane standing at the dock like ‘mONSIGNOR OVER HERE :D’)
by his tenth time around, hauling all of his luggage, suddenly this woman’s voice rings out from behind him—“um, excuse me?”
john turns around, just glad there’s someone there, and then he literally freezes. in front of him is the most beautiful woman he’s probably ever seen. he just stares at her for a second. then he realizes that she looks really concerned, which is when he remembers his mouth does indeed work and he can speak.
“oh, uh, hello,” he stammers. he chastises himself internally for looking like such a blubbering idiot. “i’m john—john pruitt.”
she smiles. “oh! you’re the new priest!” he nods in response. “yes, we were awaiting your arrival, but we all thought you were coming later this week.”
he chuckles awkwardly. “yeah, well, they decided to send me over here a couple days early.”
the woman looks around, realizing that there’s no one else around. “oh, dear. i guess the welcome committee is just me.”
john doesn’t tell her that he couldn’t imagine a better welcome committee, because that’d be creepy and he just met her. instead, he clears his throat. “i can’t seem to find my way to the church. er, st. patrick’s?”
the woman’s eyes light up. “i can bring you there! i was on my way to the church, anyhow.”
“that’d—that’d be great, actually. thank you, miss.”
she laughs. “please, don’t call me miss. it makes me feel like an old woman.” she holds out her hand. “mildred. mildred gunning.”
he takes her hand, shaking it. “that’s a beautiful name.” john swears he sees mildred blush slightly.
“well, this way, then,” mildred hums.
she starts to lead the way to the church. john doesn’t know her all that well, or at all, really. not now. but from this moment on, and on into their eternity, john would follow her anywhere as long as she’d have him.
he does find a moment in his prayers that night to thank god that he got lost that morning.
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#father paul#john x mildred#mildred gunning#mildred x john#monsignor pruitt#john pruitt#guys i can write mildred and john content for days
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slight midnight mass spoilers below.
hello!
my asks are open, so come say hi! we can talk about midnight mass, or you can ask for specific midnight mass content, mildred x john content, or john x reader content that you want to see! or you could literally just come in and ask what my favorite color is. we’ll talk it out.
(p.s, if you want to ask about me writing actual midnight mass/john x mildred/john x reader content, please do specify if you want headcanons, a drabble, or a whole one-shot.)
<3
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoiler#midnight mass spoilers#john pruitt x reader#john pruitt#father paul#paul hill#mildred gunning#mildred x john#john x mildred#send me asks please#thaank you
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okay, but can we talk about what the midnight mass characters would be like with a tumblr account?
oh boy.
first off, meow meow cat boy priest (also known as john pruitt) would definitely post pretty regularly. i’d imagine he’d either write out his sermons online or be a serial reblogger- religious gif sets, spiritual quotes, etcetera. he would be that person that likes and comments on someone’s post even with zero understanding of what on earth they’re talking about.
god forbid someone actually gave bev keane a tumblr account, she’d either be that one person that posts every five minutes, or she’d be a troll. no in between. like, please tell me i’m not the only one that could imagine her scowling at a body positivity post or a gay pride post. (because, side note: bev keane is a homophobe. you cannot tell me otherwise.)
speaking of pride posts, i think sarah would definitely post a bunch of wlw content, especially with the anonymity that tumblr would provide. it’s a place she can express herself, so she goes there pretty frequently.
if riley had an account, i don’t think he’d actually post anything. he’d spend more of his time lurking and liking posts dealing with other people’s struggles and sobriety. would most definitely join an online chat group as a kind of ‘mini-AA.’
erin would probably use her platform to bring attention to important issues in the community. serial reblogger.
(also, new headcanon. erin and riley absolutely follow each other.)
annie flynn would NOT HESITATE to install tumblr, but would be completely confused as to how it works. she’d probably make multiple sideblogs by accident because she wouldn’t know how to get back to her primary blog for a few days. (poor annie. she eventually figures it out, though.) just picture a really supportive soccer mom.
leeza, warren, and ali? oh, you bet those kids have tumblr figured out. they all collaborate on a group tumblr account that’s focused on what being a kid is like on crockett island. leeza does a lot of the writing for it, ali takes a bunch of pictures, and warren deals with the community responses. (aka the appearance of the blog, deals with the statistics, etcetera)
just, picture it, you guys.
the midnight mass characters on tumblr.
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#john pruitt#sarah gunning#father paul#father paul hill#monsignor pruitt#erin greene#riley flynn#bev keane#guys every time i have to write tags for my posts i have to write like 15 names for john#it's so funny#dude has like 15 different aliases
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possible midnight mass spoilers below. pruitt x reader drabble.
okay but imagine waking up early, before the sunrise, and taking a walk around the island before finally settling on the shore of the beach, facing the horizon of the ocean and just watching the sky change colors (and you have a little mug in your hands with your favorite beverage of choice because I said so), which is when you hear someone call out “good morning!”
you turn around and see john coming towards you, hands in his pockets, and you grin. “morning,” you respond, and then you pat the area next to you, inviting him to sit down.
he doesn’t have his normal priest attire on, because it’s so early in the morning, so he sits down, and you two silently watch the sky for a little while.
“it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you eventually ask, referring to the slip of the sun that you can see peeking out from the ocean’s end.
you can see him glance at you from your peripheral vision, and he responds “yeah. yeah, it is,” which is when you take a WHOLE GULP from your drink, because, you know, you don’t really feel like blushing like a crazy person in front of the priest.
so instead, you clear your throat and ask, “so, what’s happening today?”
he sighs. “well, st. patrick’s is doing an event later this week, which means I’ll be cooped up in a room all day with bev after mass.” you give him a pointed glare at the mention of beverly keane, your absolute least-favorite person on the island. john chuckles at your expression. “yeah, i know.”
he’ll never admit his dislike for bev aloud, especially not to the parish—but john vents to you, particularly when bev becomes too much to handle. you don’t mind it, of course, but the stories he tells you just make you hate bev even more.
“all day?” you huff. “sounds torturous.”
he hums. “there are worse things, i suppose.”
you pretend to think, tapping your finger against your chin. “burning to death, maybe. that’s about it.”
he laughs at that, then, and you can’t help but watch. it’s pretty rare to see john genuinely happy and carefree, but not for you. you get to see a side of him that not a lot of people do, and that little fact gives you a major case of the butterflies.
“and you?” john nudges your shoulder. “what’s your plan for today?”
“heading up to the mainland,” you sigh. you take a sip from your mug, keeping your gaze on the horizon. the sun’s truly come up now, and the sky’s become a beautiful orange. “erin has me on a mission to take pictures of the outside world for her to develop. for her class, you know?”
john grins, his smile reaching his eyes. “that’s awfully kind of you.”
you shrug in response, the compliment flushing your cheeks. “anyhow, i’ll be out for the day. i should get back by seven or so.”
“well,” john sighs as he gets up from the ground. “i guess we should both get going, then.”
he holds out his hand to help you up, which you take. his palms are strangely warm, in that comforting kind of way. his grip pulls you up, and you both stand there for a moment, hand in hand.
his gaze is open, inviting, and it’d be so incredibly easy to lean forward and kiss him. but he’s the priest, your inner mind supplies. so you can’t.
you look down and clear your throat, letting your hand fall back to your side. it feels cold now. the little bubble you’ve created bursts as you’re abruptly brought back to reality.
“good luck,” you gesture towards him with your now-empty mug. “with bev and everything.”
“right,” he laughs nervously--that does sound like a nervous laugh, right? that’s not just in your head? “right, thank you. and, uh, good luck to you, with your photos.”
you nod. john starts to walk away, but not without turning to look at you and waving goodbye when he’s at a farther distance. he walks off, leaving your field of vision.
as you stand there alone, the sun shining brightly against your back, you groan outwardly and hide your face in your hands.
when did you fall so hard for the priest?
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#john pruitt#john pruitt x reader#father paul x reader#father paul hill#monsignor pruitt#honestly i may make more pruitt x reader drabbles if you guys like this#so just let me know!#for all of you meow meow cat boy simps
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midnight mass spoilers below.
okay, but can we talk about what it was probably like when mildred and john started realizing that the other was forgetting things, slowly entering the world of dementia? how horribly tragic that would be?
what if mildred started fading away first?
maybe john started noticing that mildred wasn't coming to mass every day like she used to, or maybe she showed up late a few times, which was very unlike her.
he saw her less and less out on the island, and when he did manage to catch a glimpse of her, she always seemed off; like there was something small that she was forgetting that nagged at her constantly.
john wasn't all that sharp himself those days, but this was something different.
he used every resource he could find to figure out what was wrong. it wasn’t his place, he knew, but how could he possibly see the love of his life suffering and not do something, anything, to help?
word spread, as it always does, and those in the parish started whispering amongst themselves--dementia, they said. john refused to believe it.
that is, until one day, mildred did attend mass. when it was her turn for confession, she sounded panicked, distressed--and that's when she whispered to him that she suspected she was pregnant with his child.
sarah was in her twenties.
john was devastated; for mildred, who must have been terrified, and for sarah, who was going through all of this alone. george had been dead for years now, so they were on their own. what he would’ve given to be there for the both of them.
or, through the flip of a coin, what if john had been the one to fade first?
maybe mildred noticed john stammering and getting stuck during one of his homilies; a stark difference from the bold fluidity and commanding presence of his regular speech. days passed into weeks, and it became increasingly difficult for john to finish mass without incident.
strangely, it became more and more common for beverly keane of all people to start daily mass. the excuses piled up--’monsignor pruitt is feeling down this morning,’ or ‘monsignor pruitt had some stomach trouble this afternoon.’
john was never one to miss a single day at mass, and here he was, missing weeks at a time.
so when one day, mildred decided to take the risk and visited john, just to be sure that he was alright, she realized something was horribly wrong.
against her better judgement, mildred got their daughter involved. sarah was such an intelligent woman, a doctor in the making, so surely she could figure out exactly what this was.
dementia, sarah had told her. these symptoms align with dementia.
mildred went home that night and cried. she knew very well that they wouldn’t live forever, against all of her hopes and whispered prayers. they’d made their choices and lived their lives, but she just couldn’t imagine a world where he wouldn’t remember her. remember them.
john had always told her that she was the strong one between the two of them, but she was finding it extremely hard to stay strong lying in a bed that had never seemed so empty before.
mass had never been the same afterwards.
-
anyway, now that i’ve made myself cry-
#midnight mass#midnight mass spoilers#john pruitt#monsignor pruitt#mildred gunning#sarah gunning#john x mildred#mildred x john#paul hill#father paul
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midnight mass spoilers below.
i’m very much considering writing midnight mass drabbles/one-shots between mildred and john, because i think we all need it.
there’s just so much potential with their relationship that the show opened up, which could lead to a bunch of different things you could write about!
like, how did they meet? was it before or after mildred met george? how did the relationship happen? how long did it last? (because, i mean, if you see the way that john and mildred act, you have to admit that they seem very comfortable with one another.) what was their relationship like after mildred married george? what kind of intense, hushed conversations did they have during confession, especially after mildred realized that she was pregnant? what was it like when george went to war?
so much potential.
#midnight mass spoilers#midnight mass#john pruitt#mildred gunning#mildred x john#john x mildred#father paul#he just loved her so much#my need to write about it is too powerful
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