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loveliestlovelygirl · 2 months

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divine temptations | 222

you're such an angel, and i'm gonna hurt you

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: after the meeting with the high council, anakin is imprisoned publicly to shame him. in his hatred for your guardian angels, he destroys them, causing chaos to overcome both heaven and earth.

w.c: 2.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault {mentioned}, rape {mentioned}

table of contents | 333 {coming soon}

The memories of his assault of your vessel were visceral and disturbing weeks after the event. Your neck was left bruised, and it ached for several days. Sometimes, you couldn’t sleep because every time you closed your eyes you were sent back to that moment where you were at your weakest, helpless against that tree. Almost raped. Almost.

Almost is a taunting thought

You believed that, since you hadn’t been defiled, you shouldn’t be bothered by the occurrence for long. You shouldn’t have these nightmares of being raped over and over again. You shouldn’t feel vulnerable. You would simply return to your beautiful life here at the convent, your sanctuary. A place where you never have felt unsafe or threatened in any way. You loved the women here, and they loved you.

The last time you were vulnerable like this was your past life when you were a part of the world, before you had found the monastic way of life. Never did you believe you would have to feel pain like this again.

Hatred lights the path of the fallen. But you hate that man for what he wanted to do to you. How could someone be so wicked?

And every time you thought of his face, you cried and sometimes wished for death. These were thoughts that haven’t scathed your mind since you entered the convent. But perhaps contact with that despicable man left you tainted. Maybe you needed to be cleansed and prayed over, bathed in the holy waters.

What other recourse did you have?

When you explained to your sisters why you required the service, they were more than happy to pray over you. They prepared the bath for you too. Sister Agnes remained with you the entire time to help guide your prayers. The water must have risen an inch from your tears. After the bath, Sister Agnes walked you back to your private chamber.

She broke into a sob. “Oh, my dear,” the elderly woman wiped her tears, “We shouldn’t have allowed you to go near the road alone.”

You drew her into a hug. Of course, they should have sent you with another. But all you could say to the heartbroken woman was, “Don’t worry about it. I feel much better now. Our Lord protected me.”

Sister Agnes cried harder when you said that. The new expression upon her wrinkled face was one of relief. She truly believed you. And you were happy that she would not share your pain.

You bid her goodnight and went inside your room to pray. When you wanted to feel closer to the Creator, you opened your window to let the moonlight in and knelt before your window seat, setting a pillow under your knees, a makeshift prayer bench. While it was not the proper way in which to address Him, you were not so sure He minded.

For the first few minutes, you sobbed, thanking Him for the lightning that only struck your assailant and not you. The electricity only touched your skin momentarily. It was as if there had been a barrier between you and Death. You should have both died from the lightning, but only that man did. The miraculous occurrence saved you from an even greater pain.

But the thought did little to comfort you. Why you? What made you so special that you deserved a supernatural rescue and so many others didn’t? The thing that should have brought you to your knees in gratitude and praise of your savior made you... question everything, including how heavenly justice worked?

Although, the whole incident could have been some cosmic joke.

And despite spending the whole day in prayer with your sisters, you felt the same. You were still terrified about what happened. So much so that sleep was an impossible feat. During all your time at the convent prior to the horrific event, you embraced solitude and found contentment. But this night, you wouldn’t have hated companionship, someone to hold you tight and tell you that you were safe here.

“You can’t say that, Anakin! Do you understand the gravity of this situation? Do you?” Obi-Wan had never shown his anger so outwardly before. Anger marked his brow, his furious stare, his clenched jaw, and his haunting tone.

Anakin could sense his fear, despite the rage his friend used to hide it. They both understood that what Anakin had done was enough to have him sent to hell for all eternity. Their father was not so lenient of the angelic hosts as he was of humans. The humans were free to sin, and forgiveness was offered to them at every turn. And yet somehow, they still missed the chance to ascend to the heavenly realms. Most chose to trade their vaporous lives for eternity. And the Creator allowed it because of free will.

“But it’s true, Obi-Wan. There’s nothing you can do,” Anakin said emotionlessly. The chains of light were clamped tightly round his ankles, keeping him grounded. Nothing can break them except for the Creator’s Will.

He was chained to the platform right outside the chambers of the High Council, like he was an animal on display. And to the rest of the heavenly host, Anakin was a creature of anomaly. Seraphim were respected for their unbreakable devotion to Him above all else, yet Anakin wished for nothing more than to leave his place of honor. He wanted to be able to visit the Earth realms. He wanted to seduce you.

“I will try to change his mind,” Obi-Wan said to him with all hope. “He is more understanding than you give him credit for.”

With that, Obi-Wan disappeared. His wings were so quick that he moved almost at light’s speed. And Anakin was alone again in his humiliation. But he didn’t mind because now he could give you all his attention. He watched you as he always did. But this time he was not pleased by what he saw.

Never had he seen you so unhappy. He’d never witnessed you cry for anything but joy. The visions you saw in your sleep. You believed they were nightmares, but he saw the demons torturing your mind as clearly as he could see you below. Your good-for-nothing guardians were evidently too busy to cast them away. Anakin would do that for you, but he was in a bad place as it was. Interfering with your life again wouldn’t be prudent. If the Creator did not eliminate him, Obi-Wan certainly would. So, this time, he did as he should, and he merely observed from a distance, watching you cry your eyes out and writhe in pain only felt by your spirit.

The more he watched the heavier his own spirit weighed. If your guardians had served you faithfully, then you wouldn’t be left understandably traumatized from the event. It was almost too hard for him to watch you this way. But he couldn’t leave you alone like this. Even if you didn’t know he was there. He couldn’t let you out of his sight.

And as your pain grew deeper, so did his hate for those who failed in their calling to protect you. Unlike the other angels, Anakin struggled to contain his hate. No one who harmed you was free of his wrath. Certainly not your guardian angels.

The heavens erupted into chaos. Anakin had lost himself to his own wrath. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He had been punished for saving you from being violated, and those who failed in their duty to protect you were left completely unscathed. And for someone who already, secretly despised the entire heavenly host and whose hatred was like a forgotten thorn in one’s side festering for ages, obliterating your five guardians in one hailstorm of fiery rage was as simple as taking a breath for him.

Instantly, he was reprimanded by the Creator directly. In a single moment, ejected from the heavenly realms, banished to dwell upon Earth until the end of time. Hell, where he would now spend eternity, was his final destination. The mercy of the Creator saved him from being sent there first. Earth was to be his Sheol, a temporary hell.

But did they forget that his interests lie only with you. Did they fail to notice that this might be what he wanted all along? Even if he only had until the end of time with you, he knew that it would be worth it. Though you were unaware at this time, nothing would keep him from you. The laws of heaven no longer applied to him. He was free to torment the earthly beings, though that wasn’t nearly as alluring as possessing you.

Banished from Heaven and sent to Earth, he lost his heavenly title, and his name was written among the fallen. He kept his beauty in full, but now as an angel of light. And despite having wanted this to happen, being reprimanded so heavily over what he saw as the right thing to do irked him. And the pain that he felt you living through as a result of your guardians’ inadequacy ignited his fury in ways devastating to the Earth.

His rage awoke nature’s spirits. Thunder, Lightning, Rain, and Hail terrorized the inland villages. He disrupted the seas, wreaking havoc on coastal cities, leaving them destroyed in his wake. And nothing was put in place to stop him.

The voices of the High Council rang in his ears as they pleaded with him to end his madness. But Anakin was drunk on power, the lack of restraint he now possessed, for the fallen were given domain over the Earth for a time of unknown length. He didn’t believe in redemption. His thought was why not enjoy it here. The earthly realms were to be his last Heaven.

For weeks, the destruction by Anakin’s fury continued.

Obi-Wan was sent to stop and contain him. But Obi-Wan believed, perhaps foolishly, that Anakin’s heart could be changed.

The cherub appeared before him, glory to glory, withholding nothing. And yet the majesty of the fallen one was still unmatched.

“You know why I am here,” Obi-Wan announced, wielding his fiery blade, directing its point to the enemy.

Anakin could not cower in the presence of the threatening blade. That was beneath him. “Do I?”

“Given more time, Earth and its surrounding realms will be destroyed. This lust for power has consumed you.”

He was not blind to his own faults. But under his own authority, he could do as he pleased. Destroying this realm would be good. Nothing good has come from mankind. Not in his eyes. From his view, he could see the suffering humans enacted upon each other and upon the Earth, the very thing which provides them life. The only good in this world was you. And he had plans to sweep you away. Far away.

“The one that you love. You’re going to kill her. She will hate you.”

Anakin gave him a biting glare. If Obi-Wan knew... then that meant so did He. And the rest of Heaven. “I’d never hurt her. I can see her now. She’s sleeping. She doesn’t know what’s happening.”

“What do you think will happen when you destroy her life? Everything and everyone she cares for? You don’t think that would hurt her?”

“Obi-Wan, you have no idea! Did you see what happened to her? What almost happened? I live through her pain. I want to save her from evil. Can you not understand?”

The cherub refused to back down. His blade was still held high. “This is not up for debate. I have been sent to put an end to your insanity one way or another.”

Anakin smiled wickedly. “Oh... by killing me?”

“That depends on you, my friend.”

Anakin did not understand.

“Our Father wishes to offer you a deal. He has changed his mind on your punishment. But...” Obi-Wan sighed and shook his head, “only if you put an end to your anger now. It is not the Creator’s Will for the Earth to be done away with yet.”

In order to declare his interest, Anakin immediately paused his merciless pillaging of the surface. “I am listening.”

In return, Obi-Wan sheathed his blade of fire. “He knows how strongly you care for this human.” His voice was coated with disgust for the lesser being. “He knows exactly what she means to you and what you’re willing to give up for her. In his divine grace, He is willing to make an exchange with you. Give up your dominion over this realm, and he’ll allow you to be her guardian, though not an angel. But your eternal status, depends on how well you serve her.”

This offer was... merciful.

Beyond what Anakin knew he deserved. Not only was he being offered a chance for redemption, but he was being offered the one thing he craved most in the entire universe. As your guardian, he would have unbridled access to you and your beautiful mind. At his discretion, he could even appear to you, making his existence known to you.

Being known by you...

The thought of that was more than even he could process in all of his great understanding.

He was used to being veiled from you completely. Contact had been forbidden. But with this offer, you would be in his grasp. He could travel between dimensions and allow his glory to be witnessed by your perfect gaze. Anakin could not stop his curiosity at what it might feel like to be seen by you. Would he prefer it? Or would he dislike the contact? His intuition whispered that he would like it very much and that he might even find it addicting.

How could he say no?

“I... accept.”

Obi-Wan did seem surprised in the slightest. “I see. I will inform Him of your decision. You will feel weakened very soon. I understand that... you wanted this. But I don’t understand why. You-you, Anakin, held the position of the highest honor. Why would—”

“I never wanted any of it. I wanted to be free to pursue my singular interest.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I would be cautious in your new role, Anakin. More than ever before. Because this is a test. Did you believe that you were truly going to get everything you wanted without a cost? If you serve her faithfully all her life, an eternity with us is yours. But the temptations you will face as her guardian, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

“What?” Anakin spat. “Protecting a human is practically a mindless affair. That’s why it’s given to the lowest of all angels.”

“Realize that even that group is superior to where you stand currently,” he added humorously.

“I won’t be able to physically harm humans in this form. So, don’t worry. I won’t kill anyone.”

“That was not the temptation I was referring to.”

Anakin realized what his friend meant. So he quipped, “Lust is a human feeling.”

“Is it?”

“What do you mean, is it?” Anakin said mockingly.

“Do not be quick to assume anything. You’ve never been in the earthly realms before. It’s much different. You may find yourself desiring things that seemed unnatural to you before.” Obi-Wan turned, signaling his departure. “Remember the laws of Heaven. Despite your fallen state, if you wish for eternity in Heaven, where she will most certainly end up, you must abide by our laws.”

Eternity in Heaven with the one he craves. There was hardly a better fate in mind even if he never ascended to the honor he once claimed.

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1-800-kami · 7 months

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agnes, just stop and think a minute

gojo satoru x reader (1.2k)

" you're gone but you're on my mind, i'm lost but i don't know why. ,,

warnings: CHAPTER 236 SPOILERS, reader and shoko r going THRU it, i wrote this during a mental breakdown, denial, semi-comfort at the end

a/n: when i found out about what happened i just spent 2 hours on social media just. watching everything gojo related and i kind of wanted to reflect my reaction through this word vomit of a drabble. i haven't cried at all but i just feel so devastated and oh my god it's been terrible. rest in peace to my bb </3

based off of one of my favorite glass animals songs (agnes) that i've always associated with gojo.

you like to think that grief in your life always comes and goes.

it’s a part of being a jujutsu sorcerer. each day, new people are trained to become one, and others die the same day. there are new beginnings, and people who meet their ends. you know sorcerers out there who have completely closed themselves off just so they don’t have to experience the soul crushing feeling of grief.

it’s like a bud, they say. a bud that forcefully plants itself in your heart, and you can do nothing but watch it grow as it takes hold of every part of your being. people describe the feeling in many ways: a weight on top of your chest that won’t cease, or a part of your heart that’s been ripped away, and nothing in your life seems to fill the remnants of it.

you’ve experienced grief in your life many times. loss is so normalized as a sorcerer that you’ve almost lost count at this point, but the ones that have hit you the hardest are the deaths of your closest friends: kento nanami, yu haibara, and geto suguru. they haunt your thoughts every day, up until the point where everything feels asphyxiating and you sometimes want to join your friends too.

you think that geto’s death hit you the hardest.

you remember geto’s disappearance and the night parade of a hundred demons like it was yesterday. the hardest pill to swallow about his death was the fact that it could’ve been prevented. geto’s lifeless eyes made you see parallels from the weeks leading up to his disappearance. he just needed a push in the right direction, but then you couldn’t even do that and you didn’t see all the signs of his deteriorating mental health. you just felt so guilty, even though your friends assured you that it wasn’t your fault.

seeing geto’s body for the first time after 10 years made you wail uncontrollably–and you had to be forcefully pried off of him despite your screams of protest. the most prominent thing about his body were his lifeless eyes–and guilt coursed through your veins as you knew that they were probably devoid of life even before his death.

that guilt stuck with you for a long time, and you felt it until you thought that it would consume you whole.

that’s why shoko was hesitant to show you gojo’s body.

she knows that you would have an emotional outburst again, like last time. actually, she knew this one would be worse, because geto was a best friend to you, but satoru was the light of your life. he was your lover. your soulmate, even. the reason why you were excited to come home everyday. he grieved about geto with you, and you held each other when you both cried… usually when december 24th was nearing again. you think that, without satoru, you don’t know what you would do. you kept each other sane and grounded.

so you don’t understand.

why is his body in front of you right now? why are all your students crying around you and mourning gojo’s loss? it’s all the sorcerers are talking about right now, and you just don’t get it.

he’s the strongest, so why did he fucking leave you behind like this? no, no. he wasn’t supposed to lose that fight. he said it himself. he said he’d win, right? he’d win, and he’d come home, albeit injured, but home nonetheless. he’d celebrate his victory with you, and life would go on. so why did he lie?

that’s the only word coursing through your head. why?

you tried not to think about anything right now… like how there was probably so much crimson red on that battlefield. if you saw it, you’d think that the red would leave an everlasting stain in your mind, to the point where you’ll never forget about it. no matter how many times you’d wash your hands, all that red would still be there, and you hate to think about it.

you like to think that grief in your life always comes and goes.

people describe the feeling in many ways, but if you had to describe how you felt right now, the only word you’d use is empty.

you feel so utterly empty and hollow, that you can’t even bring yourself to cry or scream.

shoko’s surprised at your reaction. when she told you what happened, you became eerily silent. your eyes and gojo’s were practically identical. both so devoid of life, that all she can bring herself to say is, “im sorry.”

what do you even say at a time like this? what do you say to someone who’s had their heart ripped apart again and again as they watch each of their friends die? for you and shoko, it’s happened four times now. four is too much. you can’t bring yourself to believe it anymore.

no. this isn’t real.

this isn’t happening right now.

you move for the first time in what seems like ages, and you place your hand in gojo’s open casket, tucking a stray pearl white strand behind his ear. you observe him for a minute. he looks so peaceful, now that he doesn’t have to worry about his infinity or constantly being on his guard anymore.

“shoko, i think he’s hungry.” you say, feeling the ice cold veins in your chest stilling.

your words catch shoko off guard. “huh?”

“he’s hungry,” you repeat simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. you look away from his body and turn to leave. “i’m going to go buy kikufuku for him.”

you suddenly remember all of the dates you’ve had with satoru, where you buy many sweets like kikufuku, but he always made sure to save you some. he’s known for his notorious sweet tooth—putting one too many sugar cubes in his drinks, but he’ll always share his sweets if it’s with you. even if it was kikufuku.

“it’s his favorite after all.”

you walk out of the funeral, leaving behind the confused and sympathetic looks of everyone there. shoko sighs at your reaction—she’ll let you go for now. everyone’s processing this in different ways, so she can’t blame you for how you’re dealing with satoru’s death. she’ll just hope you’ll learn to accept it soon.

on the way to get kikufuku, you spot a pet shop nearby. there’s a fish tank on display, and you notice that one of the tanks has a white betta fish inside. it’s the same shade as satoru’s hair, and you feel your feet moving on its own as you walk to the glass. you exhale with a shaky sob, placing a hand on it. i love you, satoru. i won’t say goodbye, though, cause i’ll be there eventually.

you make sure not to say “soon” because you knew that if you took your life with your own hands instead of letting fate choose your death, satoru would never let you hear the end of it. so you’ll keep living. you’ll keep living for yourself and satoru, even though you want to join them. every single day hurts and it also hurts to even breathe sometimes. though you know, somewhere out there, satoru and your friends are cheering you on with every step you take.

wait for me… okay?

the betta fish suddenly notices your presence, and swims up against the glass. so close, yet so far. you take that as satoru’s answer. it was like you could hear his voice directly speaking to you.

i’ll always wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

you smile for the first time today, even if it was barely a smile. you felt a familiar presence with you on the other side of that glass, even if it was just for a short moment, and it gave you what strength you had left to keep moving.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru comfort #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk manga spoilers #jjk manga

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percervall · 2 months

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lay all your love on me

Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: talk of pregnancy, descriptions of birth, not proof read and not beta'd Word count: 999

In which love multiplies

Agnes

Your due date was estimated to be towards the end of April, right between the Chinese and Miami GP, and by some miracle, all three of them managed to be in Monaco when you went into labour. Mark had taken up leave to be home with you those last few weeks, just in case you went into labour earlier than expected, but baby apparently wanted all three of their dads home for their arrival. You wouldn’t say it was easy; labour was anything but easy, but going the hypnobirthing route did make the contractions far more manageable than you had anticipated. Kevin, Lewis, and Mark were all aware of your birth plan and had promised to advocate for you if needed.

The room is a calm space, with only a few lights turned on as your midwife gently instructs you to push once more. On her advice, Kevin has settled himself behind you on the bed to support your body while Lewis and Mark are at your bedside, holding your hand. You had expected it to be too crowded, having all three of them there, but it ends up being exactly what you need. And as the rising sun filters into the room, you hear your baby’s first cries. Relief floods through you as you sag against Kevin.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” your midwife says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. Kevin laughs behind you, his voice thick with tears and when you look to your right, Lewis is also trying to hold back tears.

“Did so good, sweetheart,” Mark whispers, kissing your temple. The midwife places your daughter on your chest and this overwhelming feeling of love washes over you.

“Hi baby,” you say quietly, brushing a finger over her cheek. The girl blinks up at you, her face still a little scrunched up.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” the midwife asks after making sure you are okay. You’re now reclining against the pillows instead of Kevin, looking over to where Kevin is doing skin to skin with your daughter, Lewis right next to them. It still feels surreal that you’re a mum now.

“We’re taking our time,” Mark answers for you, probably picking up on your emotions.

“I’ll leave you to it, press the button if you need anything. The lactation specialist will come by in about thirty minutes to talk through your options,” she says, giving your leg a squeeze before leaving the room.

“She’s perfect,” Kevin says, looking up at you. He is the picture of contentment, gaze soft as he takes in all her features. “Agnes,” he whispers, “if she’s biologically mine, that’ll be her name.”

Margot

This time around you had the foresight to plan a little ahead, trying to make sure your due date would fall outside of the season. Of course there was no predicting what would happen; babies have a mind of their own after all, so all you could do was make sure there was a plan in place for what would happen if Lewis and Kevin were out of the country. Luckily Susie had offered to look after Agnes when you went into labour.

As fate would have it, the midwife who delivered Agnes also ends up being your midwife the second time around.

“Alright, you’re a pro at this point. Who’s the supporting partner this time?” she asks as she checks you over.

“I am,” Lewis says. You can tell he’s both excited and nervous to finally meet this baby. The midwife instructs him to sit behind you. Breathing through the contractions, you allow Lewis to carry your weight as you focus on listening to your body’s cues. It’s still early in the morning and you are absolutely exhausted, but hearing your baby’s first cries makes it all worth it.

“Congratulations, another little girl,” your midwife announces and places your daughter on your chest. Lewis rests his chin on your shoulder and you can feel his tears drip onto your skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “I love you so much.” He reaches a hand down, resting it on his daughter’s head. Your heart soares at the sight of his large tattooed hand cradling the baby’s head so gently.

“Margot,” Lewis says gently, swallowing thickly, “that’s her name.”

Luke

Your third, and subsequently final, pregnancy and delivery are not without hiccups. Mark is a lot taller than your other two husbands and this baby is measuring big. It’s been uncomfortable, and you made all three of them promise to get a vasectomy, but you know it’ll be worth it in the end as another contraction hits you.

“Alright Mark, go sit behind your wife. Almost time to start pushing, okay?” your midwife says and you can only nod curtly. Mark rubs his hands down your arms as he rests his head on top of yours. Normally he would be the one to offer encouragement, but he knows you prefer the calm and quiet during labour. It both feels like it takes no time at all and forever all at once before you hear your baby cry.

“Third time’s a charm,” your midwife says with a chuckle, “you have a healthy baby boy.”

And those words reduce your no-nonsense, rugged Aussie husband to an emotional mess.

“A boy? We have a son?” he asks, voice thick with tears. He laughs wetly, dragging the sleeve of his jumper over his eyes. The midwife places the baby on your chest and as you take in his features, you know this little boy completes your family. Mark wraps his arms around the both of you, brushing a finger over the baby’s cheek.

“Your turn to choose a name, man,” Lewis says as he sits down on the foot of your bed, camera at the ready. Mark keeps his eyes on your son, the fondest look on his face and you could swear you fall in love with him all over again.

“Welcome Luke,” he says quietly.

Inspired by a prompt sent in by @curiousthyme as part of this. If there's a fic you'd wish I'd write, please send it in!

I am unable to stop writing for girlypop and her gaggle of husbands

Please let me know what you think! 💜

#f1 fanfic #kevin magnussen fluff #kevin magnussen x reader #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #mark webber fluff #mark webber x reader #mamma mia fic

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sunshine-theseus · 5 months

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Fantastic Mr Fox | Aggie Beever-Jones x reader

Word Count: 2.1k Summary: she's a cute girl and has impeccable movie taste Warnings: injuries, nothing else really. guys i love fantastic mr fox and wes anderson films, i have since i was like 4, so i love this fic. Request for - @realsociadadferminofan

Finally joining a team after being in their academy was something so unnecessarily terrifying. Joining a team after being in their rival’s academy, was possibly 10x worse.

Joining Chelsea from the Arsenal W.F.C. Academy was somewhat of an ultimate act of treason. I got DMs from Arsenal fans insulting me and calling me a traitor, ‘you’re not good enough anyway’. DMs from Chelsea fans were predominantly kinder, but I did receive a few ‘you don’t deserve to be here’ messages.

I had been sent on loan to Chelsea last season, straight out of the academy, which had been more accepted because it was seen as something I didn’t have a choice in. Now that I had officially signed with the Blues? Life was harder than it should be. I’m not particularly close with anyone yet, not thinking I was going to be staying around long enough for them to matter, and I’m having to compete to even play because of the diverse skills and experience of our players.

I met Aggie on the first day of training. I wasn’t expecting the number of new players that had joined me in signing over the summer or after the World Cup, and it was severely intimidating.

The person I could claim to be the closest to, was Niamh, which in turn meant I was some-what friends with Jessie, but the roommates had yet to arrive by the time I walked into the locker room, searching for my locker and number which had now been changed due to the apparent must for Mia Fishel to be 2 if she signed. I think I cried about it the day I found out. I had been number 2 since I was 4, clumsily kicking a ball around on horrid grass under gloomy skies, and I was forced to just give it away.

“You’re not number 2?” an unknown voice perks up beside me as I plonk down at my new cubby, the number ‘32’ looming over my head.

I turn to my left, and see a rather well put together blond, lacing up her boots. A new face, but seemingly kind. I tilt my head to the side as she looks up, having not answered the question.

“Sorry, I’ve followed you for a while. You’re always 2, aren’t you? You were last season.”

“Oh… I had to um, give it up. Mia made it a requirement to be number 2 if she signed. Didn’t even give me an option.”

“That’s pretty unfair, it’s special to you. I’m Agnes by the way. Everyone calls me Aggie.” She reaches out her hand for me to shake, which I gently do.

“Like from Fantastic Mr Fox! I’m Y/N.” I smile softly at her as I lace up my own boots.

“You know Fantastic Mr Fox?”

“It’s the best movie ever!”

“Right?!” she then pauses.

“Hey, so I don’t really know anyone here… could I stick with you?” Aggie rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet as she asks the question.

“For sure! I’m not super close with anyone yet, well I’m sort of close with Niamh and Jessie, but I’d love to stick together.” I hop up from my seat and begin to walk along side Aggie as we approach the field, the meeting room seemingly deserted to instead focus on introduction games that tie to our warmup.

~~~~~

It takes a month for me to realise I have a crush on Aggie. Neither of us having anything to do during the October/November international break except train while ¾ of the squad were out, meant a lot of time pretty much one on one. I tell Niamh straight away, the girl having become somewhat of a big sister to me, and she laughs and tells me most of the team already figured.

“Emma loves pairing you up to watch you stumble and blush.”

“What the fuck?!” the call doesn’t last much longer, as Aggie comes to collect me for our gym session, in which I am a very poor spotter for the girl as I gawk and blush as she rolls up her sleeves and lifts the weights.

~~~~~

Now a month after that, I’m sitting out altogether due to spraining my calcaneal tendon in the Champions League game against Madrid.

“This fucking suucks. Fuck Athenea. We were going to play our first ever game at Stamford Bridge together” Aggie pouts, leaning of the fence as I hobble into the seats behind the subs bench, plopping down next to Millie and Guro.

“I know. You have to score for me pretty please. And do a knee slide and give a heart when you get it.” I gingerly smile at her, and she dramatically rolls her eyes.

“Your wish is my command princess.” She jokingly gives a bow.

My mouth gaps open and closed and I feel my face burn as it’s overcome by a deep shade of red. Aggie chuckles and says goodbye before she heads back to the locker room, getting ready to start the game.

“You are down so fucking bad.” Millie teases and Guro hums in agreement.

“Am not!”

“She called you princess and you malfunctioned. It’s like your brain shuts down. You should ask her out.”

“What?! No way! She does not like me back.” The captain and the Norwegian stare at me, blinking once as their mouths drop open, scarily in sync.

“Man, if you can’t see how much she likes you, there is no hope.” Guro chuckles and turns back to the game that’s about to start.

Aggie scores in the 23rd minute. A pass from LJ sets her up and she easily puts the ball in the net. And as promised, she smoothly slides on her knees, making a heart with her hands as she glides along. She moves to take her place as they set up to start again but stops briefly and points to me with a toothy grin. It’s a small gesture to show who the goal was for, and I make a little heart in return.

“Okay! I’m fucked! Millie what do I do?” I frantically turn to the girls next to me as the whistle blows, the game continuing.

“You have to sweet talk her and like offer her your jacket or something. Honestly, she already likes you so don’t change your personality. That’s important. You got that? No changing yourself.” Millie pokes my chest.

“Aye aye captain.” I solute her before Guro adds on.

“And when you ask her out on a date, make sure it’s something you’ll both actually enjoy. Like you both love that weird fox movie, so watch that together or something.”

“Fantastic Mr Fox is much more than ‘that weird fox movie’. It’s the pinnacle of film. Wes Anderson is a fucking genius.” Guro raises her hand in fake surrender.

“Sorry.”

“But you’re right, that is a great idea. W- when do I ask her?”

“After the game.” The two older women simultaneously stress that it’s imperative I do it soon.

We win 5-1, and I rush as quickly as one can with crutches, onto the pitch to congratulate the team. I hug Niamh and LJ, talk to Emma, meet pretty much everyone, before I get to Aggie. She stands off to the side, talking to Sam and Guro, the latter spotting me and pulling Sam away to talk to god knows where.

Aggie is conveniently missing a jacket, so as I approach her, I shed my own and hold it out to her.

“You’re going to freeze.” She refuses, but I push it toward her again.

“Aggie, you’re shivering, take the coat.” Her fingers graze gently against mine and my stomach swells, my breath hitches.

“Thanks.”

“Hey… would you, maybe, you can say no, like to, I don’t know-”

“Spit it out.” She nudges me and giggles.

“Do you want to go on a date?” I rush out, avoiding looking her in the eyes, fearful of her rejection.

It’s silent. Well Aggie is silent.

“Forget i-”

“Yes. I really would like to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. What did you have in mind?”

~~~~~

“Now I've already had too much to drink, and I'm feeling sentimental, but I'm going to say something anyway, which nobody wants to admit, but I think is probably true: we beat 'em.” I glance at Aggie out of the corner of my eye, and I catch her wiping away a tear.

“Are you crying?”

“Nuh uh.”

“I cry 90% of the time during this speech it’s ok.” My hand inches toward Aggie’s that rests between us.

“It’s not even inherently sad Y/n. I’m just a baby.” She pouts at me as a single tear rolls down her cheek.

I take her hand, slotting my fingers between her’s. I wait for her to retract but she squeezes my hand, running her thumb against the back of it. I then turn my head, my eyes meeting her’s. The hazy blue irises bore into my own, drawing me closer. My other hand lifts to hold her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” Aggie nods once and I lean in, our lips locking in a gentle kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” her warm breath hits my lips, our foreheads pressed together. I respond by kissing her again.

~~~~~

We walk into training together. Not an unusual sight. The only difference is the short kiss we share before I turn on my crutches to head to the physio to have a check-up on my ankle. I’m stopped as I reach the locker-room doorway.

“No fucking way! You did it!” Millie comes barrelling toward me, wrapping an arm loosely around my neck in a headlock and ruffling my hair with the other.

I hear Aggie laugh and I jokingly glare back at her.

“Yes I did. Thanks to you. And Guro giving me the date idea by dissing Fantastic Mr Fox.”

“Guro what?!” Aggie exclaims. I smile and bid her goodbye.

~~~~~

“YOU’RE BACK!” I stumble as I catch Aggie on my back, the girls around us smiling and giggling as Emma sends a playful glare.

“Miss me? I was only gone a week.” Emma quickly separates us into pairs for a training exercise.

“More like forever. Why does your extended family live in Glasgow?” She takes a hold of my hand as we wait to be given a ball.

“My abuelita loves you if that makes you feel any better. And she’s never met you. It took her months to warm up to my sister’s husband.”

“Mmm, that does make me feel better, but a kiss would definitely help.” She perks her lips and I lean on my tippy toes to press my lips to her’s.

“Get a room!” Niamh calls out from across the field and I blush, hiding my face in Aggie’s neck as she wraps an arm around me. Everyone laughs before Emma sternly tells us to focus.

~~~~~

The time is slowly running out, we’re tied 1-1 and I get subbed on for Sam, joining Aggie on the front line. The 20 or so seconds tick down on the big screen as I run down the pitch, chasing Aggie, calling for the ball. She takes a shot on the goal but I notice the ball veering off course and rush forward. I jump, head making contact with the ball and body making contact with the goalkeeper before I fall to the ground.

I hear the crowd cheer but don’t move. My head aches but pain radiates across my shoulder and down my back. The whistle doesn’t blow even as I cry out, only once the final seconds pass. I feel hands pat my head, assuming I’m just exhausted. I eventually hear Aggie’s distinct voice break through the rest of the noise.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP THE GAME? SHE DIDN’T GET UP SO YOU STOP THE GAME!” there are waves of outraged voices that echo around me, but I can’t do anything but cry and whisper Aggie’s name.

I begin to assess myself as I wait for someone, anyone, to come help. I can feel everything, but it hurts, I can move my fingers and my toes. My breathing is a little rough and my vision is blurred by my tears. I feel someone kneel beside me.

“Hey, hey I’m here are you ok?” I expect to hear my girlfriend’s voice but it’s Ann-Katrin.

“It all hurts. W- where’s Aggie.” I groan out as she strokes my hair out of my face.

“She’s coming. She was having a word with the ref. Asshole tried to card her. The medics and Emma are coming too.”

It takes forever to be assessed, and then I’m carried out on a backboard, Aggie holding my hand as we walk through the halls.

“Are you ok? Are you sure? Do you need anything?” She spits out question after question and I smile up at her.

“I’m okay, I’ve got you.”

“You really are a quote-unquote fantastic fox.” She grins at me and leans down to kiss my forehead.

“I want to quote Fantastic Mr Fox with you all the time.”

“You will. Once you fucking stop getting hurt.”

#woso x reader #woso #womens soccer #wsl #aggie beever jones #aggie beever-jones #aggie beever-jones x reader

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baldursgrave69 · 2 months

Text

Can’t Help Myself

Rating: NSFW - MATURE, MDNI

Pairing: Halsin x fem!durge (named)

Word count: 921

Tags: MDNI, afab!durge, vaginal fingering, oral sex, smut without plot

Sorry Gale part two 🫣

Finding me on AO3 here

A quiet moan fell from Agnes’ lips as Halsin pinned her against a wall, trailing sloppy kisses up her neck.

“Halsin,” she breathed as he pressed his knee between her legs, applying pressure where she wanted it most.

“I can’t help myself, my heart. I need you,” Halsin whispered, kissing her hungrily.

The pair were meant to be looting an abandoned basement, though the others should have known better than to send the two alone.

“We’re going to be in so much trouble,” Agnes said with a sly smile, her back pressed against the cool stone wall behind her.

“I’m willing to push our luck,” Halsin replied, slipping his hand into her trousers, his fingers dipping into her folds.

Agnes let her head fall back against the wall behind her, giving Halsin a perfect angle to lay kisses against her neck. He slowly rubbed circles on Agnes’ clit, pressing kisses to the column of her neck. She moaned quietly, bucking her hips against his hand.

“How did I get so lucky to get to share in your heart?” Halsin whispered against her skin, slipping a finger into her, pulling a louder moan from her lips.

“I’m the lucky one,” Agnes said breathily, gripping his shoulders.

Halsin slipped another finger into her cunt, slowly fucking into her. Agnes groaned at the stretch of her walls with his large fingers pumping in and out of her.

“Can I taste you, little thief?” He asked, his eyes wild with need.

Agnes bit her lip, nodding her consent to the druid. He pulled his fingers out of her, bringing them to his mouth and cleaning her need off of them. Agnes pulled him down to her, kissing him hungrily. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue, causing her to moan against him. Halsin unlaced her trousers as he continued to kiss her, carefully slipping her pants and small clothes down.

He was always so gentle with her.

Halsin knelt down in front of Agnes, pushing her thighs apart for access to her core. Agnes cupped his chin, pulling his gaze up to her.

“You are divine, my Halsin,” Agnes said, her thumb tracing his lips.

Halsin pressed a kiss to her thumb as she release his face from her grasp. He trailed a hand up her shirt, caressing her curves and cupping her breast as he pressed kisses to her mound. Agnes squirmed against him, desperate to feel his mouth against her. He pressed a kiss to her clit before dragging his tongue up her slit, tracing lazy circles along her cunt. Agnes’ mouth fell open, pleasure ripping through her body as Halsin pinched her nipple through her bralette and ravaged her with his tongue.

“Oh gods,” she breathed, trying to keep her voice from echoing through the dusty basement.

He sucked at her clit, pressing her body against the wall. Halsin trailed his hand down her back, and under her leg, lifting it over his shoulder for a better angle. Agnes tangled her hands into his hair, grinding against his tongue and chasing her release.

Halsin moaned against her, lavishing her with his tongue. The druid got plenty of pleasure from worshipping her body, her moans and trembles enough to satisfy him.

Agnes brought a hand up to her mouth, stifling the cries falling from her lips. Halsin slipped a finger into her cunt, sucking at her clit as he pumped his fingers into her.

“Hells,” she hissed, the hand on her mouth falling to his hair and digging her nails into his scalp as she bucked her hips against him. The druid picked up his pace, fucking into her with his fingers and ravishing her with his tongue.

Agnes felt her climax rush over her, gasping as Halsin pulled his finger out of her, continuing to lick at her clit.

“Fuck,” she breathed as he pulled away, standing and placing his hands in either side of the wall behind her.

“You taste incredible,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her. The elf pulled away, looking in the direction of the ladder down to the basement.

He quickly reached down, pulling up Agnes’ trousers for her and placing a kiss to her nose.

“Best tie those up before someone catches us, my heart,” he chuckled, walking to the other side of the room to busy himself.

Agnes quickly laced her trousers as she heard the hatch down to the cellar open.

“For the last time, Gale. I said I was sorry. You were the one who barged in,” Astarion’s voice carried down to the cellar as he and Gale climbed down to the other two.

Astarion smiled over at Agnes as he entered the room, his expression quickly turning to suspicion, looking over to see Halsin on the other side of the room.

“You two are never this far apart,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Believe it or not, dear, we are capable of doing separate tasks,” Agnes said, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.

Gale crossed his arms, looking over to the wood elf who turned to face the other men.

“You’ve got something on your chin, druid,” Astarion smirked, gesturing towards Halsin.

“Hah, right,” Halsin coughed, wiping Agnes from his mouth with the sleeve of his leather armor.

“Here? Really??” Gale huffed, exasperated.

“At least we were fully clothed. This time,” Agnes said with a shrug walking over to Astarion and kissing his cheek.

“How do you ever have any energy?” Gale asked, rubbing his temples.

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 3 days

Text

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 3

Ok so I decided to cut down the next chapter so I could get something out before I take a small break, but the next one is over hlaf-way done so it'll be out soon. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5942

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 >

PART 1: Chapter 3

I'd rather be unemployed.

Fimble-Famble (Definition): A really lame excuse for not wanting to do something. (Noun)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 9th December, 1929.

“And he told me that we needed the money so I had to take it!” you cried as you slumped in the armchair.

Agnes gave you a look over the top of her glasses, the book she was reading now long forgotten since you stormed in that evening practically red in the face as you ranted to her about the whole radio fiasco. Knowing your tirade wasn’t over, she placed a bookmark between the pages and snapped the book shut, reaching over the arm to place it on the side table with a sigh.

“Well he is your boss.” She explained calmly, and you slumped down further, edging your sock-clad feet towards the fire. “If he believes you can do it, then I don’t see any reason as to why you can’t. Besides,” she gestured to the bag of books by your feet. “Those books he gave you are about radios for beginners – having that knowledge could open up further job opportunities for you.”

All you did was stare at the bag with a frown, before you kicked it over with a whiny grunt. Agnes sighed again.

“You’re going to get rude customers wherever you go, so when you’re the one representing the business, you be the better person and take the challenge calmly.” She pressed, peering over at you with a stern expression.

Silence.

She squinted slightly. “You.. did take it calmly, didn’t you?”

When you continued to narrow your eyes at the ground, she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Christ, no wonder the twins grew up to be as crazy as they are.” She muttered. “Look, if Mr LeBlanc has asked you to take on this repair, and allowed you to take the pay for the extra labour hours, then I see no reason for you to refuse this man’s request – at least, not without cause.”

You sat up straight, prodding the cushioned arm with your finger. “Oh, I have cause. It is because I hate him!” You exclaimed.

Your aunt tilted her head, regarding you with a tired look. “My lovely, you’ve only had one conversation with him over the phone.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “Two, if you count the letters.” You growled. “Besides, I think Ralph only told me to take the job ‘cause he knew the guy.” Agnes raised a brow. “I said it was a Mr A. Boudreaux, and he almost choked to death from coughing his lungs out. I told him he was rude to me but he just kept saying that I had to.”

“Did he say please?” she asked, a small knowing smile on her face.

“…Yes.”

“There you go.” Agnes concluded, reaching over to give your knee a few rough but assuring pats. “I don’t know who this Mr Boudreaux is, but if Ralph wants it done, then you can at least try. Besides, I’m off work until next Monday, so I’ll be home for a whole week to give you a hand if you need one – I know how those equations and diagrams make your head go all fuzzy.”

You sighed dejectedly, then gave your aunt a small smile. “Thank you. If anything, I’m doing it for this guy’s mum, not him.”

“Awww, at least he’s sweet to his mother.” She smiled, before turning towards the door and raising her voice slightly. “I do hope I get that treatment when I’m older!”

All she got was a loud farting noise echoing through from the other room.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Friday, 13th December, 1929.

The patio double doors hung wide open as you laid your head on the kitchen table, staring at the technicolour marbling of the setting sun. Tools, wires and random pieces of springs laid scattered on the wooden surface around you, along with several books opened to pages of diagrams you had spent the last week trying to understand but to no avail. You had sent a letter on the Tuesday, informing Mr Boudreaux that your boss had decided that the radio would be taken on.

You refused to call him again, lest you face the humiliation of that faceless smug bastard as he found out that your boss had sent you back with your tail between your legs to tell him that you were in the wrong – something you adamantly avoided stating in your letter, instead half-hinting that Ralph had miraculously recovered overnight (he hadn’t), and took the project on personally (he didn’t do that either).

It also seemed that the good luck spell you and your aunt had performed that Monday evening worked - after you had collapsed on your imaginary chaise-longue and wailed to her about the dilemmas of the day, she had dragged you to her room, going on about how you hadn’t been keeping up with your practice for the last seven months. She made you bring your grimoire from your room, and you both spent around an hour resetting and cleansing energies, also setting up a small bowl of different herbs and trinkets that symbolised good luck, making you put it on your bedside table along with a new incense burner she had bought you. Honestly, if your aunt wasn’t around, you probably would’ve spontaneously combusted by Wednesday.

Agnes had also sat with you every evening, reading through the radio books, and slowly helping you work things out when the words started to blend together and you found yourself trying to read a paragraph as much as you could, but to no avail.

It was times like this when you wish you were back home, when everything was normal. When people weren’t giving lingering looks to your aunt as she traipsed about the village like every other innocent woman. When your uncle was telling you about his family and his way of living in Japan to his sons, and to you whenever you had the time to stop by. When you were treated as a well-respected, intelligent woman, who was freshly graduated from university at the top of her class. Not whatever those men had said to you when they came to your door after the local doctor had practically snitched on you. If only that dinner hadn’t happened. If only your aunt’s maid hadn’t gone snooping where she shouldn’t. Within a year everyone had been torn from each other.

But there wasn’t much time for mourning. You had less than two weeks to get this radio looking like it did when it was fresh off the shelf, otherwise you risk disappointing your boss for the first time ever, which would have you unconsciously doubting yourself for the rest of eternity.

Your head still on the table, you pinched a spring coil between your fingers, holding it up against the orange-purple sky as you glared at its silhouette. Rustling came from beside you as your aunt flipped the pages of the books, eyes flitting between them and the notes she was taking in her notebook.

You felt her glance at you a couple times, until there was a sound as she shifted, then silence. Feeling a finger tap your shoulder lightly, you slowly sat up to face her. She was facing you, an uneasy look in her eye as she took her time coming up with what to say.

“So..” she began hesitantly. “I understand your busy right now working full time at the shop, but since we got the news yesterday that Ralph was getting better, I was going to ask you,” she waved her hand about in thought. “If you’re going back to working only two days, would you consider looking for another job?”

You sat up straight, confusion clouding your face. “You want me to quit on Mr LeBlanc?”

“NO, no no!” she cried, waving her hands to dismiss the obvious miscommunication as she laughed nervously. “I meant look for a second job? I felt awful even thinking about asking you, but with the free time you’ll have, I just think it would make surviving this crash easier if we both had a steady wage coming in? I mean, as steady a wage that two women during this time an get.” She looked at her hands as she twisted them, hesitance and guilt written all over her face. “I want the boys to have a completed education, and it’ll crush me if I force myself to take that away from them.” She turned to you, trying her best to hide the tears threatening to build up. “I know you’re only here temporarily, and I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable doing, but –” she took a shaky breath. “as humiliating as it is, I need your help.”

Moments passed as you stared at the woman before you. The woman who used to be so full of life and love when she was surrounded by family – who loved the village she grew up in and the city she moved to – who loved the husband she fought tooth and nail to marry – now sat in a house in an unknown city she never asked to be in, a country she never asked to move to. Torn from her sister to an unknown place on the other side of the planet. All because her stupid maid couldn’t keep her stupid mouth shut.

Reaching your arm out, you grasped her hand with your own, waiting until she looked up at you, dark eyebags you never thought you’d see underlining her eyes like a curse. You knew she wasn’t sleeping enough.

“I’ll start looking tomorrow.” You stated quietly but firmly, squeezing her hand affirmingly.

Her eyes glistened as they widened, regarding you with a desperate hope, until she let out a loud sniffle and dropped her head onto your shoulder, trying her best to conceal her own shoulders as they jerked up and down slightly with her light sobs. Resting your head on top of hers, you both sat there in silence as you listened to the clock tick along with your aunt’s quiet sniffs as she attempted to calm herself.

“There’s an assistant’s job going down near the French Quarter.” She muttered. “I know the guy who runs the place and he said he would be happy to interview you?”

You perked up at her suggestion. “Ok, what kind of company is it?” Your aunt remained silent for a moment. “Agnes?”

“It’s a, uhhh… radio station.”

Jerking your head off hers, she quickly sat up as you gave her a deadpan expression.

“C’mon,” she pushed with a watery giggle. “I said you we’re learning how radios work for a repair, and he seemed excited that you would have some knowledge before you applied.”

“Unwanted knowledge.” You pressed. “He’s gonna have to offer a decent salary if he wants me to be within a ten mile radius of a radio ever again.”

Your aunt gave a throaty laugh in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I made sure of that before asking you. I can give him a call if you’re willing to interview?”

Making sure to let out a very long and tired sigh, you looked at you aunt’s pleading face, before slowly nodding. Letting out a cry of relief, she clapped her hands, then grabbed your face as she squished your cheeks, moving your head from side to side as she let out a string of ‘thank yous!’.

Eventually after her tirade of affection, she got up, flipping her twin plaits over her shoulders as she approached the sink, rinsing both of your mugs to make the fifth cup of tea that evening. You went to reach across the table for a book when your ears perked up at the sound of a small ‘psst’ from your right side.

Glancing over, your eyes landed on the archway that led into the hallway, and you were able to see all the way down to the front door from where you were sat, though half of your view was blocked by the underside of the stairs. Peering down the long hall, you leant back in your seat until a dark mop of hair peeked around the staircase banister.

Quickly flicking your eyes to Agnes, you made sure she was still facing the sink when you turned back to make eye contact with Ollie, who was precariously perched on the bottom step as he manoeuvred his upper body to curve around the wooden post to face you. Another mop of lighter hair joined him, as Allie stuck his head between the ceiling and the railing from where he was further up the stairs. Reaching one arm round and the other through the banister posts, Ollie began waving and pointing his fingers about, signing the most ridiculous gestures as he tried to convey a message.

‘What??’ you mouthed silently, frowning as you shook your head slightly in confusion.

At this, your cousin tried again, jabbing his fingers about a bit harder as he repeated the message.

You stared, eyes darting to the side then back again, and you simply shrugged. At this point Allie had thrown a dirty sock at his brother, and you barely heard him hiss at Ollie to make it simpler.

Rolling his eyes, Ollie shifted until he was fully facing you. With frustrated, wide eyes, he pointed at you. You nodded. Then pointed upstairs. You nodded again. Then jabbed his thumbs at his chest as he mouthed ‘my room’, then held his hand up with all of his fingers splayed out, ‘five minutes’ he said silently. Nodding once more, you watched as your cousin froze at the clatter of mugs as your aunt moved about, before quickly darting back round the banister, crawling on all fours as he soundlessly disappeared back up the staircase like some shadow creature along with his brother.

Sighing with a roll of your eyes, you returned back to the mess in front of you, thanking your aunt as she placed a fresh steaming mug of tea down. Picking it up, you bathed in the hot vapours rising from it before sticking your tongue out slightly to test the temperature. Quiet slurping sounded from beside you as your aunt returned to her seat, sipping from her own mug. Glancing at you, she placed it down to pick up a book.

“So,” she said as she casually turned a page. “What did the boys want?”

You took a large sip.

“No idea.”

Five minutes later, you took it as a well-earned break, trudging upstairs to see what the twins wanted to yap at you about.

“What’re you two up to now?” You sighed as you pushed open the door that had the sign saying ‘Ollie’s Room’ nailed to it. You looked up, only to stop in your tracks as your eyes landed on the two hunched over a very large corkboard, though, the cork was hardly visible with all the random pieces of paper, newspaper clippings and string pinned to it.

“Whaaaat is that?” You said slowly, brows furrowing as you stared at the board with wide eyes.

Ollie practically crawled his way over to the door, hands on the floor as he lifted a leg like a dog taking a piss, to kick it closed before scurrying back to his twin’s side, who was busy looping glittery wool string around another pin.

“A corkboard.” Allie simply said, not even bothering to look your way.

“I can see that.” You deadpanned, making your way over. “I’m asking what is on it. And specifically HOW you got pictures of dead bodies.” You pointed out, stepping closer to see the black and white photographs of body parts and corpses that you knew definitely shouldn’t be in the hands of your underage cousins. (Though they were 17 now, and clearly the closer they got to adulthood, the more excuses they had to do crap they weren’t allowed to.)

Allie snipped the end of the string, his voice lowering as he regarded you with a dark look. “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” You hissed, raising a leg to kick him. “Explain.”

“Okayyyyy fine!” he whined, shuffling out of the way to avoid your attack with a pout. “The son of the Sheriff is in our class, and we pay him to enlarge photos from the crime scenes that are suspected to be the Bayou Butcher.”

Your mouth flung open. “You WHAT?!?!” You yelled.

Ollie swiftly raised his hand to cover your mouth. “Shush, if mum hears you, we’re all dead!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Reaching your hand up, you slapped his away. “We’re all dead regardless!!” You hissed. “Has the thought crossed either of your microscopic brains that what you’ve done is, like – I don’t know – super illegal??”

“It’s fine.” Allie shrugged. “If we guess that someone is onto us, we burn the evidence.”

Your looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “What if mum finds it when you’re both at school? What then??”

Allie sighed. “She won’t find it. Promise.” He stretched his arm up to the top of the board, flipping it over to show another side with random drawings and knick-knacks pinned to it. “We just flip it over and stick it in the wardrobe.”

“What, and pray she doesn’t get the urge to do her usual chores and find it as she’s hanging up your washing??” You contradicted.

“Yea pretty much.” Ollie replied.

You glanced between them worriedly, shaking your head. “You two are treading on thin ice here.”

“Yea yea but we didn’t bring you here to moan about everything.” Interrupted Ollie. “What we were trying to say before you rudely changed the subject was that this was our theory board.”

“Your illegal theory board.” You poked, crossing your arms.

Allie simply frowned up at you from where he was knelt on the floor, and you sighed.

“Fine. I’m guessing it’s about the Bayou Butcher?” You asked, before scrunching your face. “Why am I even asking? Of course it is.”

“Yep.” Ollie replied, his demeanour now more excitable. “Every grisly murder that matches his M.O. – well – our idea of his M.O. Along with every newspaper article about him, and maps of places the bodies have been found.” He explained, pointing each thing out. “We’re currently trying to figure out a potential pattern, but to no avail at this point.” He turned to you with a determined look in his eye – something you should be seeing on an actual detective, NOT your dingbat of a cousin. “But we will. At some point.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing the information. “Ok, so, why am I here?”

They both looked at each other, before facing back to you.

“To help us.”

“Absolutely not.”

Allie pouted. “Aww c’mon! We thought you liked this sort of stuff?” he whined, gesturing at you.

“Yea, from an outsider’s perspective! Not when there’s a potential for the police to come after me! Hell, this Butcher guy could find out you’re onto him and come after you himself!”

They rolled their eyes. “Ok, mum. No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Jived Allie. “We can guarantee you, no-one’s gonna find out.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How, then?”

“By not being stupid?” Ollie said as if it was the most obvious thing.

You sighed, thinking to yourself for a moment. “…Fine.” You held a finger up when their faces brightened. “But if anything gets dangerous, I’m burning it all myself.”

They both nodded excitedly, beckoning you over as they began to explain everything.

You knew at some point they would both be the death of you.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Monday, 16th December, 1929.

The sun was still yet to melt the snow when you walked into town with your aunt that morning, arms linked as to not slip on the compacted ice as you both tried to step onto the trams that were miraculously still running. Your arms remained linked as both made your way to a wide, busy street just off the outskirts of the French Quarter, about a twenty minute walk from where the antique shop was.

Mr LeBlanc has graciously given you the day off, as a thank you for running the shop. His cough had receded, and was determined to return to work. Though his wife insisted on joining him in the shop for a couple days to keep an eye on his health, despite his grumbling.

“I can assure you Mr Durham is lovely.” Agnes said with unwavering confidence as she patted your arm with a knitted glove. “The interview should be over in fifteen minutes or so – you’ll be in-and-out before you even realise it, so there’s no need to worry.”

You gave her a shaky smile. “Hopefully. Though I haven’t been in any interviews to know if it’ll go well.”

“It will.” She stated firmly. “Now, do you remember what we went over when answering interview questions?” You nodded, and she slowed you both to a stop. “Brilliant. We’re here.” She gestured up to a relatively tall building, the brickwork looming over you as the wall above the doors displayed the words ‘W.A.D RADIO’ in bright, white paint.

Peering up at the five-storey building, you felt nerves creep up your spine as you began to sweat slightly.

“Oi, look at me.” Muttered Agnes, reaching out to gently take your shoulders as she turned you to her. “No matter what happens in there, it’s not the end of the world, I can promise you that.” She assured. Glancing her eyes across your face, she reached up to straighten the simple blue cloche hat she had let you borrow. “There should be a receptionist at the front desk, just go in and tell her your name and that you’re here for an interview with Mr Durham, ok? I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

The air in your throat stuttered as you took a deep breath, your nervousness a stark contrast to the anger-fuelled confidence you had when answering that phoner. Nodding silently, you returned your Aunt’s smile before stepping away and pushing the door open, hoping the ‘Good Luck!’ she had whispered to you would give some assist.

You could sense the receptionist staring at you as you sat staring blankly at the tiles on the floor ahead. Picking the non-existent dirt from under your nails, you felt the sickening nerves in your stomach ease slightly when you had sat on the worn, leather-clad bench, the conversation with the woman at the desk having gone as smoothly as you could make it, luckily without your mind going blank or stuttering on any words.

“Where did’ya say you were from again?” You heard, and you raised your head to see the receptionist leaning on her elbows on the desk, chewing on a pencil as she looked you up and down. “You’re English, but’cha don’t sound quite like those gents on the radio?” she questioned, her slightly nasally voice cutting through the air as she bore you down with her gaze.

You blinked. “…I’m from the North-East.”

She furrowed her brows, the wood of the pencil clacking on her teeth. “North-East a’what?”

“Of England? You know there’s over forty different accents used in the UK, right?.” You explained.

She looked you up and down once again. “Huh.” Was all she said, before she shrugged her shoulders, turning back to the paperwork she was pointedly ignoring, and you returned to fiddling with your hands, now choosing to pick at any loose lint on the hat laid on your lap.

About five minutes later, the sound of shoes clicking against tile tapped against your ears, and you looked up to see a man donned in business attire round the corner. He was rather tall and large, but in a soft muscular kind of way. His murky brown waves fell loosely over his forehead, peppered with streaks of grey along with his thick beard, and he still retained the tan from the summer, but his pale shade of skin was starting to show through again, softening the piercing blue of his eyes.

Speaking of eyes, it didn’t take him a second to scan the room before they landed on you, the cerulean if his iris’ turning an almost baby blue under the lights as they brightened at the sight of you.

“Ah! There you are!” He exclaimed, arms spreading wide to welcome you. “I was wondering when your aunt would drop you off!” His white teeth glistened as he gave a handsome, warm smile. Approaching where you sat, you quickly stood to take his large, outstretched hand, the warmth from him enveloping your snow-frozen skin. “I’m Mr Durham, co-owner of Watson & Durham Radio.”

You could see why your aunt let him take her out for dinner.

“– and you’ll be here Wednesday to Friday, from what your aunt said on the phone.” Mr Durham rambled on. You had been interviewed in his office on the third floor, but he had insisted on taking you on a tour around the expansive building. At first, he showed you your potential desk, positioned just outside his office, facing the rows of other desks that spanned the large room ahead.

Now you were taking the stairs to the fifth floor – ‘where the magic happened’ – according to the spritely man.

“These are the radio booths – each host gets their own.” Mr Durham explained, gesturing down the wide corridor.

Strangely, his pace seemed to quicken as he led you past the windows, but you tried your best to peer into each one. Some were dark, as no-one was in. Others were presenting, the ‘ON AIR’ sign above their door glowing bright, the rest were either chatting amongst each other, or alone in their booths, scribbling down in notebooks or on sheets of paper.

“– David, Jeff, Al, Brian, and Ol’ Timmy are all here – ‘cept the rest who have the day off.” Mr Durham listed off, pointing out each man as he rushed you by. “Though-” he lowered his voice a little. “- if you take the job, it’s best we keep you on the third floor.” You furrowed your brows at his odd comment, to which he spotted, quickly giving an explanation. “The boys can be a bit of a distraction you see. Being on the radio means you have to be charismatic, and I want you to settle in comfortably before I introduce you. A few can be quite… nosey. And overwhelming – some more than others.” He muttered, glancing into one of the booths near the end, and you looked over to see the back of a man’s head, his hair styled neatly from what you could see, and you watched as he gently tapped his foot to whatever was playing through his headset whilst he jotted away in the notebook on his desk.

As Mr Durham’s large shadow cast across him, he began to turn his head, and you managed to catch a glimpse of a pair of thin glasses before you walked out of sight of the window.

Thinking nothing of it, you followed the boss round the corner at the end of the hallway, and he continued to tour you around the building, pointing out the odd thing or person here and there.

The chill of the winter air hit your face once again as you pushed the front door open, and you scanned the street for your aunt. Glancing to the spot where she left you, a frown crossed your face as you found it empty, but barely a moment passed until your name was called out, and you looked up across the street to see your aunt stood outside the door of a café, waving for you to come over.

Cursing out America for having their jaywalking laws, you quickly searched for a crossing, speed-walking as fast as you could over the road despite the slippery snow as you jogged up to your aunt.

“So? How did it go?” she breathed excitedly as she led you inside to a small table, where there was already a steaming cup of tea waiting for you.

Grasping the warm beverage in your hands, you relayed the events of the last half hour to the woman bouncing in her seat across from you.

“Ok, but, were you happy with what you saw?” Agnes asked once you had finished.

You nodded. “Yea, pretty much.” You answered. “That Durham guy was already talking about me settling in before he offered me the job.”

Her back straightened. “He did?? Did you accept?” She gasped.

Looking at her over the top of your cup, you felt a smile grow on your face. “Mhm, I start Wednesday.”

Your aunt threw her hands in the air. “Oh thank god!” Her eyes darted about in frantic thought. “Oh! We’ve got to go shopping for some proper work clothes for you! Mr Durham is quite flexible with workwear but we’ll still go.” She rambled, pulling a piece of paper and a pen out her purse to start jotting things down, mumbling under her breath. “There’s a shop down the main street, and you’ll be needing some smarter trousers –”

“Speaking of Mr Durham,” you interrupted with a small smirk, watching Agnes accidentally jerk her pen across the paper as her wide eyes looked up at you. “He seems oddly fond of you. He asked me how the twins were getting on at school before he asked for anything about me.”

She froze, and you raised a brow.

“It’s also not like you to let some guy take you out. For dinner.” You added.

She glanced away, then back at you, slowly placing her pen down as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

“It’s not like that –”

“Sure it’s not.”

She sighed your name in exasperation. “We’re both regulars at this café, and we met back in January and have been friends since. Happy?” She explained rather curtly.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Do the twins know about him? You know how protective they are over you since their dad passed.” You questioned gently.

Agnes closed her eyes, raising her hand to rub at her forehead. “They know, but they haven’t met him yet. Even if it does end up being ‘like that’, it’s been almost a decade since we lost Hiro, and it gets hard trying to raise two very energetic boys and keep a steady roof over their heads.” She stared into her drink with a faraway look as she recalled her late husband. “This world wasn’t built for women to be alone, and as infuriating as that sounds, I’ve been backed into a corner so many times that I only see someone like him as my one ticket out.”

Silence stretched between the two of you, as you let the words your aunt spoke about your uncle sink in. She hardly ever spoke of Hiro, so mentioning him now meant how serious she was.

“Alright.” You said softly, and her head raised to look at you. “I know I have no place telling who you can and can’t talk to, but please make sure both the twins and you are happy and safe. The last thing I want is a repeat of these last two years.”

A dark shadow crossed her face. “Oh believe me, it won’t.” she assured in a low tone. “If I knew the police weren’t going to show, I would have strangled Beatrice before she stepped a foot out the house.”

Nodding, you sighed, finally relaxing back in your seat as a natural silence fell over the two of you. Bringing the tea to your lips, you bathed in the fumes, watching passersby as they fought against the onslaught of the oncoming blizzard, and pondered about the possibilities of your first day at the radio company that sat on the opposite side of the street. Eyes unfocused, you stared blankly at the double doors that led into the towering brick building, thinking about when spring would come round and you could start to wear your summer dresses, but you focused back in when the double doors opened, and you watched as a man stepped out.

You couldn’t see his face, as it was lowered against the wind, but you recognised the mop of neatly styled, dark, brown hair that you had spotted earlier, but that was quickly hidden by the fedora he placed on his head, and your eyes caught the light of his round glasses, as they glinted in the dying light of the cloud-smothered sun, before he turned his shiny heel and strode down the street, seemingly not at all worried about slipping on patches of icy, packed snow.

What caught your eye the most, though, was how insanely tall this man was, and you figured – even at your tall height – that the top of your head would barely reach his nose, even on your tiptoes.

(Though, there was always the option to jump up and collide your forehead with his – if the need arises, of course.)

Unfortunately for you, however, this lanky ladder of a man was crossing the street.

Right towards the café.

Right towards you.

And you were basically turned in your seat to stare the demons out of this guy.

The brim of his hat began to raise, and you practically spun on the spot, the tea in your mug sloshing about, and you came face to face with your aunt, who had clearly seen the one-sided staring match you had had with the stranger.

Feeling the eyes of the man boring into the side of your temple, as you assumed he had seen you move at the speed of light to avoid looking at him, you smiled sheepishly at Agnes, who was not-so-subtly darting her eyes between the two of you.

A few seconds ticked on by at the speed of a snail, and it wasn’t until you aunt muttered a ‘He’s gone’, that you felt yourself deflate in relief, slumping in your chair as you gingerly put the mug in your hands back down on the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the back of the man’s trench coat as he carried on down the street out of sight, and you faced the woman in front of you.

“Sooo,” she began as she tried to hide the growing smile on her face. “Who’s that?”

“No clue.” You stated bluntly, eager to move the conversation along, lest your aunt turned into one of the women in your village, who would talk non-stop about their sons and grandsons when they found out you weren’t being courted. Or they would pester your mother about it. Either way, getting married was definitely not on your bucket list – and you wouldn’t be surprised if that lasted your whole life – you were quite satisfied with the thought of surrounding yourself with cats instead.

“Oh nuh-uh.” Agnes deadpanned, wagging a finger. “You don’t get to prod at me about men and not let me retaliate. Besides, Mr ‘No-Clue’ seemed an awfully pretty lad~”

You huffed. “Well I wouldn’t know, I’ve only clearly seen the back of his head, and according to Mr Durham,” you explained, lifting your hands to count on your fingers. “His name could be either David, Jeff, Al, Brian, or Ol’ Timmy.”

She raised a brow at you. “He looked like a David. Either way.” She smirked. “Your mum wouldn’t mind having someone like him as her son-in-law.”

You pouted. “Agnes, please.”

All your aunt did was laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gonne be uploading some art of MC soon >:))))

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 4!!

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

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#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

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enigma-the-mysterious · 2 years

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Incredible that they had to keep Cris and Agnes apart for a solid 80% of this season in order to sell the new romance at all 🙃

#vent #cristobal rios #santiago cabrera #alison pill #cris x agnes #rios x jurati #picard #star trek picard #star trek #agnebal #agnes jurati #aramis in space #original post #not incorrect quotes #stp

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thesevenwondersofawitch · 2 years

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It's nearly Halloween, so here's a slightly spooky edit to the lovely crew of La Sirena

youtube

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doofus-and-dragons · 9 months

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This will more than likely be the last one of these I have. So, for the last time, here is my live reaction to the final season of TMA. These will be in no particular order because ice been listening to it over the span of a couple of weeks. I only listen to it at work.

TMA S5 Spoilers ahead

The cabin episode made me so sad. The eyepocolypse had even taken away their domestic bliss

I really don't remember the trenches that well. It's not a fear of mine, so it didn't shake me or stick well enough. Still good tho

The sickness episode sent me right back to senior year of highschool. I had to take a minute KXNSKXN

REVOLUTIONS WAS AMAZING I LOVED THE POETRY AND THE ACENGING OF SASHA BY KILLING NOT!SASHA. I love it.

At first I thought the worms was about Jane again but I was very wrong. It was a very interesting take!

Curiosity made me incredibly sad. I feel bad for Eric, Micheal, and Sarah(? Trinity? I don't remember. She was set on fire by a desolation avatar I think)

Also: Gertrude x Agnes perhaps???? Or at least solemn pinning? Maybe I just think it's slightly tragic to make it so and sometimes angst is good yknow?

Roots was ok, but the only part that stuck out to me was the jealous Martin scene. I listened to it like 3 times. I kept rewinding it just to list to it.

Fire Escape was SO good! It gave me a kind of manic energy as I listened to the descriptions of the fire.

Martin in the Lonely again made me cry. That's it.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend?" "Yes actually." "Oh...so is there anyway this doesn't end in me dead?"

The Basira and Daisy stuff actually did make me feel bad for Basira. Like, it's the apocalypse and she's having a whole ass crisis.

SALESA WAS INCREADIBLE

I wonder how he faked his death... man is talented and smart, I'll give him that

Skipping ahead to Martin's domain. Loved that. My boy isn't strictly human and I love that he can't deny that fact anymore.

Martin: Something something "one of you"

Jon, being a smug theater kid bastard boy: "One of us."

Like I heard that and I imagined him smirking ominously and gesturing with both his hands

He sounded so pleased that his boyfriend, as miniscule a role it had or that martin had, was like him, and I love that for him

I'm so glad Melanie and Georgie are happy. Though, the cult does weird me out (cults give me the heebie jeebies. It was a very nice touch!)

They deserve nice things.

Also, my favorite of the Cult members was Anil's character. I can't remember his name right off the top of my head, but he was wonderful. Anil did amazing with that little cameo/role

The scene where's he's arguing with Martin reminds me of that Jojo meme with jotoro and dio, but instead of stands they have their poetry clutched tight in their fists

"I dont need a poet." No, Jon, because you already have one. His name is Martin

Of course Jon gets trapped in the ocean when he doesn't have big string martin to row him out of it XD

SOMEWHERE ELSE SOMEWHERE ELSE SOMEWHERE ELSE

Annabelle Cane is wonderful, I'm so glad Jon didn't kill her. She's so chummy with Martin up until she has to be a dramatic villain and I love that for her!

The ladder episode made me grin like a maniac manly because I would be the Martin in that situation. I love the feeling of falling/floating, but I hate actually getting myself to fall. I physically can't do it. I can barely dive into the lake from my papaw's boat

Martin, there are thousands of fanfics that dive into you two getting together without the trauma. Don't even.

NO JON THE PLAN

Hey, real elias! That's where him being a stoner comes from! Because he is one! Nice.

I love og Elias, and I would protect him with my life I don't care.

Oh wait it was just Magnus dreaming

JON NO THE PLAN FUCKING HELL

I almost cried when Martin was yelling at Jon. The boys are fighting

THE KISS HOLY SHIT ALEX SAKD THEY WOULDNT KISS THEY KISSED AH

They're somewhere else being happy and domestic now you can't change my mind

#basira hussain #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #mag 200 #tma s5 #tma s5 spoilers #melanie king #georgie #their cult ig #mikaele salesa #alice daisy tonner #jonmartin #somewhere else #annabelle cane

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 11 months

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Angel of God, My Guardian Dear Chapter 2: Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Story Summary: While speaking at a local school for visually impaired youth, Matt runs into his childhood best friend, with whom he lost touch almost 20 years prior.

Warnings/Tags: no real warnings thus far.

Word Count: ~2,300

A/N: None.

I still can't believe it's really him.

Matthew Murdock -- Y/N's childhood best friend, the boy she had never stopped loving since the moment she had realized what the butterflies in her stomach when she was around him were being caused by, the one person in the whole world that she had never wanted to live without but had been unwillingly forced to do so for the past 19 years -- was not only sitting on her sofa, but also reciprocated Y/N's feelings that she had carried for so long.

Y/N had honestly forgotten about the contents of that last letter she had written to Matt -- she had written it as a means of catharsis during a bout of self-pity fueled by her breakup with Alex and had only vaguely remembered writing Matt a goodbye letter when she had awoken the next morning, all cried out over the loss of not only her relationship, but also the renewed pain of never knowing what possibly could have transpired between her and Matt, had Y/N been given the chance to tell him how she felt.

It had taken every ounce of courage she'd had to finish reading her letter out loud to Matt, and after she had finished and seen the stunned look on his face all she had wanted to do was to go crawl into a hole and hide for the next 19 years.

Instead she had picked up her drink and drank it as fast as she could, hoping the alcohol would numb the sting of rejection she had surely been about to face.

"You were in love with me?" Matt had asked.

Y/N had squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the look of scorn or, worse, pity , that Matt's face was sure to have worn.

She had been about to get up and pour herself another shot of amaretto when Matt had gently taken her glass and set it on her coffee table, then took her hand in his. "Y/N? Please, angel, talk to me."

Y/N's eyes had snapped back open in surprise at the undisguised plea in Matt's tone. There had been no mistaking his expression, either -- there was hope written plainly on his face.

Fueled by liquid courage and her own tentative hope, Y/N had taken a deep breath and told Matt the truth, that she was still in love with him.

Her heart had leapt for joy when Matt had told her that he not only had, but also still reciprocated her feelings, then he had pulled the cross necklace she had given him right before she had left for Florida out from under his shirt. I've always kept you close to my heart.

A strange mix of happiness and anger had flooded her system and while she was still fighting the urge to march down to St. Agnes to give Sister Bernadette a piece of her mind, her anger had admittedly been somewhat abated when Matt had kissed her a few moments ago and asked her out to dinner for the following evening.

Matt was currently looking at her somewhat nervously. "So? What do you say, angel? Go on a date with me?"

Y/N nodded. "Of course, Matty. I'd love to."

Matt grinned. "What time do you usually get off work? I'm thinking maybe you can come to my place? I'll cook."

"I get off at 5, but I'll want to come home to shower and change first, so is 6:30 okay?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, that's perfect."

"Okay, awesome."

Matt's expression grew serious. "There's something I should probably tell you though."

Y/N's brows furrowed. "Okay."

Her mind began to race. What the hell could he possibly be talking about? "You didn't lie about being married, did you?"

Matt's face twisted into confusion. "What? No, I've never even been engaged."

"Then are you in the mob? On the run from the law? Joined some sort of weird sex cult?"

Matt laughed. "None of the above, actually."

"Then what is it? Because I honestly don't know what could be worse than you being in a sex cult, except maybe if you're a serial killer or something. Oh my God, you're not a serial killer, are you?"

Matt shook his head. "No, angel, it's nothing like that. Quite the opposite, in fact."

He took a deep breath. "You've heard of Daredevil, right?"

"That vigilante dude?"

"Yeah. Well, you see -- the thing is…" Matt trailed off.

Suddenly the lightbulb in Y/N's head went off. "It's you."

"Yeah." Matt nodded. "I'm him. I'm Daredevil."

It honestly made sense once Y/N thought about it. She had known about Matt's heightened senses as a kid and his training sessions with Stick, and the fighting style had seemed familiar in the few grainy videos of Daredevil that Y/N had seen on the news. Thinking about it now though, she figured that deep down she had kind of always known that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had to have been the same person that had taught her self-defense as a teenager.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I can deal with that. Just… just don't do anything too reckless or stupid and get yourself killed though, okay? I just got you back, I can't lose you again."

Matt took her hand and raised it to his mouth for a kiss, visible relief on his face. "I'll try my best, I promise. Thank you for being so understanding."

"Thank you for still trusting me even after all these years." Y/N bit her lip. "Any other secrets you want to tell me?"

Matt shook his head with a smile. "Nope, the fact that I'm secretly a vigilante crime-fighter is the only big secret I got. Oh, no, wait-- there is one more. You remember Sister Maggie from the orphanage?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. She was always nice. I liked her."

"She's my mother."

"She's your -- you're kidding, right?"

Matt shrugged. "Afraid not."

"Oh my God."

"Yeah."

Y/N huffed out a breath. "Did you know that when we were kids?"

Matt shook his head. "No, I just found out fairly recently. Needless to say I wasn't too happy about it at first, but I've made peace with it now."

"Well that's good."

"She asked about you, you know."

Y/N was taken aback. "She did?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, she asked me how you were doing and seemed genuinely surprised that we hadn't spoken since you left St. Agnes, especially considering we had always been pretty much attached at the hip as kids."

Y/N sighed. "I'm assuming she wasn't in on Sister Bernadette's plan to separate us then."

Matt grinned and shook his head. "Actually I'm pretty sure she thought we'd be married with a bunch of kids by now."

Y/N huffed out a laugh. "Sister Maggie's your mom. Wow. Any other bombs you wanna drop?"

Matt shook his head. "Nope, that's all of them."

"Ok good, because I have a secret of my own."

Matt raised an eyebrow and grinned. "You're also secretly a crime-fighting vigilante?"

Y/N giggled. "No, nor am I actually married, running from the law, in the mob, or in a weird sex cult either. Oh, nor am I a serial killer, I promise."

"Then what is it?"

Y/N leaned in to whisper in Matt's ear. "You weren't the only hormonal teenager who occasionally had dirty thoughts about their best friend."

Matt hummed playfully, wrapping his arms around her. "Well now… Pot, meet kettle."

Y/N trailed a finger down Matt's torso. "I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours."

Matt smirked. "You really want to know what I would think about?"

Y/N nodded. "Mmhmm."

"Well, by the time my thoughts had gotten to that point I'd already been wanting to kiss you for years, so first off I would think about finally being able to know if your lips would taste like that coconut lip balm I always smelled on you."

Y/N licked her lips reflexively. "And did you think they would?"

"Mmhmm. I bet your lips would've tasted amazing , angel. Had to fight the urge to kiss you that last day just so I could find out once and for all."

Y/N swallowed. "What else would you think about?"

"I'd think about kissing your neck. I knew if I ever got the chance to feel your pulse fluttering under my lips that I would have to be extra careful not to leave any marks, although I'd want to so I could show everyone that you were mine."

Y/N sucked in a breath. Holy shit. She had never known that Matt had a possessive streak but Christ, that turned her on.

Matt licked his lips and smirked. "Oh, you like that, don't you, angel? You like the thought of me marking you up for everyone to see?"

Y/N huffed out a breathless laugh. "Sister Bernadette probably would've shipped me off to a convent overseas instead of my aunt's house in Florida had you ever given me a hickey, although I probably wouldn't have minded you leaving some in more… inconspicuous places."

"Oh really? Wanted to feel my mouth on you, sweetheart?"

God, yes. Y/N took a shaky breath and nodded. "I used to think about your lips a lot, Matty, used to think about -- about kissing you, be it sweet, innocent pecks or full-on makeout sessions leading to those aforementioned inconspicuous hickies."

"What else?"

"I also used to think about your hands. Wanted you to touch me, wondered what it would feel like to have those long fingers of yours tracing more than just my face."

Matt groaned. "I used to think about that too, what it'd feel like if I'd been allowed to touch you outside of the platonic cuddles and chaste hugs we used to share."

Y/N shivered with desire, the gruff tone in Matt's voice sending lightning straight to her core.

Matt made a vague gesture towards Y/N's face. "Speaking of me tracing your face though, may I? I'm still picturing teenage you and to be honest, it's kind of freaking me out -- all things considered."

Y/N chuckled. Matt had mapped out her face a couple of times as they were growing up, and she still remembered the look of concentration on his face as he had put together a mental picture of her. "Yeah, of course."

"Okay. Good. Great." Matt shifted to face Y/N more fully and tentatively reached out to touch her. "You ready?"

Y/N nodded and closed her eyes. "Yeah. Go for it."

She fought to not lean into Matt's touch as he took his time tracing her features, his fingertips slowly gliding over her forehead, eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, and finally jawline.

Y/N opened her eyes as Matt leaned back. "I know I got older, but do I still somewhat look like what you remember?"

Matt shook his head solemnly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Actually… no."

Y/N blinked in surprise. " No ? Have I really changed that much?"

A smile spread on Matt's face. "You're even more beautiful now than you were back then."

Y/N huffed out a laugh even as her face heated. "Matthew."

Matt shrugged, his smile widening into a grin. "What? It's true."

Y/N shook her head fondly. "Actually as attractive as I thought you were when we were kids, I think you're even more handsome now."

Matt chuckled. "That's nice to hear."

Y/N licked her lips, the lust and alcohol coursing through her veins emboldening her. "Matty?"

"Yeah, angel?"

"Enough talking."

Matt grinned and cupped the sides of Y/N's neck with his hands, then pressed his lips to hers once more.

Y/N relaxed into Matt and willingly opened up to him as he deepened the kiss, the flavor of Matt himself even more intoxicating than the whiskey Y/N could taste on his tongue.

Matt slid one hand down to her waist and pulled her closer to him, his other hand sliding up to tangle in her hair.

Y/N pressed her hands to Matt's chest to stabilize herself, marveling at just how solid he was under her touch.

Matt groaned, trailing his lips down Y/N's jawline to her neck. "Used to dream about being with you like this, Y/N," he murmured against her skin. "Wanted you so much."

Y/N gasped as Matt placed a kiss just under her jawbone. "Wanted you too, Matt. Still do."

Matt let out a soft growl against her pulse point. "As much as I want to make love to you, the first time I take you to bed I want both of us to be clear-headed."

Y/N nodded. As much as she wanted Matt and as amazing as his five o'clock shadow felt scratching against her skin, she knew it wasn't a wise decision to jump into bed with him right then. "Yeah. Yeah, me too."

Matt sighed and nuzzled Y/N's neck before leaning back. "Actually, I should probably get going. It's getting late."

He pointed to the letters that were still on Y/N's coffee table. "May I have those?"

Y/N nodded again. "Yeah, of course."

They gathered the letters and put them back in the box, then stood.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Matt in a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow night?"

Matt nodded and pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Can't wait."

Y/N tilted her face up to him and smiled. "Me either."

Matt reached up and caressed Y/N's cheek with his thumb, then gave her a soft kiss on the lips. "I'm really happy I ran into you today. I've missed you."

Y/N nodded, her heart fluttering. "I've missed you too."

"Good night, angel."

"'Night, Matty."

Y/N let Matt out and locked the door behind him, then let out a happy sigh. Never had she imagined that her day would turn out like it did, but she couldn't have been happier that it had.

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