#did she happen to stop in to this Catholic Church for confession

[asifyoudidntknow]

Rewatching All Souls and I need to know why TF Scully is going to confession at a church in Alexandria, Virginia?!

#ma’am explain yourself #did she happen to stop in to this Catholic Church for confession #the episode gives the impression this is where she goes to church and father mccue is a priest at #why tf would she go to church in Alexandria when she lives in Georgetown #it would make more sense that she stopped in for confession #probably after a post case visit with mulder #dear lord I’m spiraling #mulder + scully #txf season 5 #all souls

[unreliablesnake]

Guilty as charged (David "Deacon" Kay x f!reader)

Summary: You're working for the CIA's Special Activities Division and get involved in a case 20-David has to deal with. Despite being married, Deacon is drawn to you and there's nothing he can do about it. His life gets out of control and it takes a really long time to find himself again.

Warnings: emotional cheating, a teensy bit of catholic guilt

Note: I only saw like half of s6 so I don't know Annie. She must be nice, but this had to be done.

You were CIA–Special Activities Division to be exact. Deacon understood that you had been close to the fire before and knew much more about their suspect than they would learn from a quick research. Time was running out which meant they could use all the help they could get. Hondo wanted him and Luca to go through the details with you so they could come up with a plan, but he wasn’t exactly happy about it.

His problem with you wasn’t the fact you were an outsider. It was personal.

First, he subconsciously began to focus on your hands, looking for an engagement ring or a wedding band, but there was nothing. Then you made a quick personal phone call around him, and he found himself listening to see if the person on the other end of the line was someone you were in a relationship with. And he knew he was in big trouble when he had to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you against his chest to get you out of the way of trouble.

He reminded himself that he was married with kids over and over again, that he was in a happy marriage and didn’t need anyone else. But then you flashed a small smile at him and his strength to keep his distance disappeared without a trace. He discreetly made sure he was near you all the time; he helped you out if further research was necessary, if you had to visit a witness or a source, or if you wanted to let off some steam in the boxing ring after running into another dead end.

By the time that case came to an end, he had more and more trouble getting you out of his head. He even went to church to confess his sinful thoughts, but that didn't seem to help him, because that evening he had a brand new dream about you. A dream that mirrored the primal need that took over every time he was around you.

On the way to the station he made a promise to himself in his car; if they went out for a drink to celebrate, if you were a willing participant, he would take his chance and kiss you. Just one innocent kiss, nothing more.

Of course, it was hard to decide what he would regret the most. Kissing someone who wasn't his wife or letting you go without trying. He wanted to be faithful, he really did, but he was on the verge of losing his mind, and the only medicine seemed to be you. He had to try, even if he would have a terrible case of guilt for the rest of his life.

While you and Hondo discussed something outside of the bar, he got lost in a conversation with the rest of the team. Anything to take his mind off the thought of this being the last time he saw you. But maybe this was good news, maybe being away from you would give him the closure he was seeking.

Some time later Hondo showed up, ordering a beer for himself before turning to Deacon. “I can see you want to say something,” he said with a smile.

“Where did you leave our new friend?”

The other man let out a long sigh at this seemingly innocent question. “She’s talking to someone on the phone outside. Look, Deac, you’re my friend, so remember that I'm on your side. But listen, you need to stop.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can see the way you look at her. You're married, you shouldn't look like a kicked puppy every time she turns her attention to someone else.” Deacon nervously looked away, suddenly feeling guilty because he was right. He probably did look like a kicked puppy, because he sure as hell felt like one every time you talked to someone else from the team. “Did anything happen between you?” Hondo asked him with a concerned look.

“No.”

“Good. You shouldn't risk your marriage for someone who will leave tomorrow.”

With a groan, Deacon stood up and put on his jacket. “Noted. I'll go get some fresh air now.”

“Come on, man, I've just told you to leave her alone. You're playing a dangerous game,” came the sensible response.

“Thanks for the warning, I appreciate it.”

Hondo was right about everything, he knew that very well, but he was drawn to you in a way he had never been drawn to anyone, not even his wife. The idea of never seeing you again felt like a dagger in his heart, which seemed surreal since he only met you a few days ago. It was something unexplainable, something he was willing to accept without questions. Maybe it was fate that brought you together.

He walked around the building and found you standing on the street with your back against the wall, the light of the screen illuminating your face as you scrolled your phone. Even though he came to a stop before reaching you so he could take a good look at you, appreciating the view and taking in every little detail to remember you, you looked up and flashed a smile at him.

“Needed some air?” you asked, sounding as friendly as always.

“Yeah, you can say that. Can we talk?” You nodded and pushed yourself away from the wall to move closer to him. “Please tell me you have someone waiting for you back home,” Deacon begged you quietly.

“What?”

“Tell me you're in a relationship, give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't do something I might regret later.”

“Deacon, I…”

He placed his hands on your cheeks and leaned so close his lips almost touched yours. Almost. He kept a little distance, he didn't kiss you, so it didn't count as cheating, right? You looked confused, but still let him take control of the situation. “I shouldn't be doing this, but you don't give me a choice. You're driving me crazy, you know that?” he asked as his lips brushed your jawline.

Your fingers curled around his wrist before you gently pulled his hands away and took a step or two away from him. “I know you’re married, and I avoid married men,” you informed him, although there was no hate in your voice. You were still kind to him, as if it was nothing more but a misunderstanding.

“If I was single, would you give me a chance?”

“No. And it’s not because of you, it’s because of me. I don’t live in LA, I’m sometimes away for months, and I wouldn’t want you to deal with that.”

“I wouldn’t care.”

“But I would.” You stopped and took a deep breath, your eyes set on him as you carefully studied his expression. Deacon tried to keep a straight face, he tried to keep calm and make it look like he wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack, but you clearly saw through it all. “You’re not planning on leaving your family, are you?”

“I don’t know. Can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.”

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and took a hesitant step closer. “Don’t even think about it, okay? You can’t end a marriage that’s been good just because you’re temporarily confused by your feelings,” you said, keeping your voice down as you tried to talk some sense into him.

Before he could figure out how to respond to that, Street showed up and told him they had to go somewhere. You motioned him to go with that damn adorable smile on your face, and he had a hard time fighting the urge to finally kiss you, probably for the first and last time. In the end he nodded and walked away, not looking back to make sure he safely escaped from your gravitational field.

It took Annie over a month to realize something was wrong. The countless nights Deacon spent on the couch instead of their shared bed, the distance he slowly built between them, the conversations they never had, and the way he snapped at her once when she dared to ask why he stayed out late one evening. He screwed up, he knew that, but he had been tense ever since you accidentally called him.

How could he forget about you when he saw your number in his phone, saved under the name Oliver so Annie wouldn’t put the pieces together if she ever took a look at his contact list or recent calls? If she had taken a look at it, she would have seen one incoming call from this guy, and several outgoing ones that only lasted a few seconds. Maybe a new friend, she could have thought.

So another two months later Annie sat him down so they could talk like adults, discussing what bothered him and hopefully finding a solution to their problem. At first he didn’t want to talk, he just kept changing the topic, but she knew better than to let him do that. When she asked him who she was, he groaned and stood up to start pacing in front of her. How could he explain the situation? It was so ridiculous that even he wanted to laugh at himself sometimes.

“We worked together on a case for a few days about four months ago. I hadn’t seen her or talked to her since then. Nothing happened, I swear,” he said, choosing to be honest with her. She deserved that much.

“Then what’s going on? Despite stating nothing happened between you, you didn’t hesitate to confirm it’s about another woman,” she pushed on, her voice slowly breaking.

Deacon gulped as he considered what to say. “She knew I was married and she wanted absolutely nothing from me. It’s all on me, Annie. I was the one who chased her, not the other way around.”

“Please, pack a suitcase and leave. I–I can’t be under the same roof with you now.”

A text was all he sent you. A short text that told you his wife had kicked him out three months ago and he was sure they wouldn't get back together. Then he waited. A day. A week. A whole month passed with no response. He was beginning to accept that you wouldn't talk to him again.

But then he went to the station one day and he was told someone was waiting for him. It was you. After all that time you were standing in front of him, looking absolutely stunning in the blue sundress you wore with a pair of beige summer ankle boots. You looked so uncertain that if he hadn't known what you were capable of, he would have assumed you were out of your element here.

Maybe you were. Maybe you both were. This wasn't a conversation about a case or your respective jobs. He felt it in his bones that you came because of his message. So he cleared his throat and walked over to you, taking deep breaths to calm himself since his heart wanted to jump out of his ribcage.

“It's been a while,” he said with a nervous smile.

You looked down at your shoes, doing your best to avoid his gaze. “I don't even know why I'm here. I've been away for so long, then I came home a few days ago and saw your text and the missed calls. I'm sorry, it's been a long time, maybe I should leave,” you said.

Before you could turn to leave, though, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back. “Is that why I couldn't reach you? Because you were on a mission?” You nodded when you were finally brave enough to look him in the eye. “When I asked you if you would give me a chance if I was single, you said you wouldn't because of your job. But now you're here and I need to know why.”

“I don't know, Deac. All I know is that I couldn't get you out of my head after I found out you were still thinking about me,” you admitted.

He smiled at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to himself. “Let's say we can find a way to make this work. Are you sure you're ready for this?” he asked you.

You placed a hand on his arm and began to draw circles into his skin with your thumb. The silence was deafening, but he wasn't about to rush you, not when he finally had you this close again. And then you spoke up, but the things you said brought a deep frown on his face.

“You misunderstood me, I'm afraid. When I said I couldn't get you out of my head, I meant it in a different way. You can't keep doing this to yourself. Stop thinking about me, forget I exist, and for the love of God, try to fix things with your wife,” you told him seriously.

“I don't think that's possible,” he began sadly. “Every time I look at her, all I can think about is how I wish she was more like you. I can't love the woman she is anymore. It's you I need.”

Shaking your head, you pushed his arm away and stepped away from him. “I need to go, my team will head out in two hours. Don't torture yourself, Deacon. You deserve better,” you said, even flashing a supportive smile at him.

He let out an annoyed groan, his warm eyes watching you closely as he thought about what he could possibly do to change your mind. Maybe if he showed you how good you two would be together, you would realize that it wasn't worth losing the possibility of a happy relationship. So in the end he looked around, making sure no one was around, then closed the gap between you and let his lip crush into yours in a cautious kiss.

“Now be honest with me,” he began patiently as his fingers caressed your cheek. “Why did you really come here? You were nervous, told me you didn't know why you came here, which was probably a lie. And I can tell the whole ‘forget about me and go back to your wife’ speech was a lie too.”

You watched him silently for a while, then you gulped and licked your lips as you prepared to talk. “But I meant it when I said you deserved better than me,” you told him.

“Just try to accept it’s you I need in my life.”

“What about the divorce? How’s that going?”

The divorce. Sure. All that had happened so far with his marriage was Annie throwing him out and the two of them seeing a counselor to discuss how to move on with the kids. They had to tell them that he was moving out for good, and they had to find the right way to assure them he wouldn’t disappear. But they never talked about the legal part of this process which was weird in retrospect as they had been separated for months and Annie was seeing someone already.

Deacon took a deep breath and said, “It’s… going.”

When he saw you close your eyes and let out a long sigh, he knew he couldn’t fool you. And just as he expected, you pulled away and gave him a serious look. “Call me when you’re legally single, okay? Until then it’s nothing more but a fantasy, you know that,” you told him coldly before telling him you had to get to the airport anyway.

He didn’t even try to stop you. You were right, and even he would have a lot to process if he entered a relationship before the divorce was finalized. He was already going to the church quite often to at least chat with the priest if he wasn’t ready to confess, hoping he would be able to give him the guidance he needed so badly right now.

And now you were back, even if for just a very short time, and made it clear you wouldn’t necessarily be against a relationship if the circumstances were different. Now he had to wait. He had to wait for bureaucracy, hoping nothing would stand in his way. How patient he would be while he was waiting, though, was a completely different matter.

#deacon kay x reader #deacon kay #david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #david deacon kay #david kay #s.w.a.t. cbs #swat cbs #swat #s.w.a.t. #brainrot

[ashe-withane]

Alright!! Time for my 911 7x05 reactions!

Alright the hand guy

I knew about Buck getting choked but EDDIE owwww. He’s so dramatic though lmao.

Awww baby clothes

Oh no. :(

Another girl? She’s nine. Ohhhh interesting.

I love Hen and Karen so much omg

Oh! The date!

That is a huge pitcher of beer lol.

Omg they’re seeing a movie after?

Ohh Buck’s so nervous.

Did he just. Call himself. An ally

BUCK

He puts a rainbow on his Instagram.

“I guess it’s just me that makes you nervous” shit Tommy that was good

Awww Buck’s smile

I know we’ve been talking about Buck’s face when Eddie shows up BUT Tommy’s eyes go so wide omggggg

“And then we’re gonna go find some hot chicks.” BUCK.

Tommy’s face aaaah

:( Tommy

Hold on Eddie what do you mean Marisol agreed to move in with you??? We have seen literally nothing of this relationship and you’re already moving in together??

“I guess you can never have enough closet space.” HELP

“Right, Evan?” Oh Jesus

“You too bro” Buck…

This is so awkward. I know Buck is figuring himself out still but I feel bad for Tommy :(

“I think you’re adorable, but I don’t think you’re ready” is actually I really nice way of letting him down.

Denny giving Mara a teddy!! That’s so sweet.

Ohhh Buck’s talking to Maddie…

“Are you dating a married woman?”

“Could be very much the point” I love Maddie.

HE CALLED HIMSELF AN ALLY AGAIN. Maddie’s face as well oh my god

Oh my god they actually went with a “yeah I check out guys but that’s normal” situation

“It’s the same Tommy??” Ahahaha

At least Marisol is keeping her place so we don’t have another Taylor situation on our hands

Hmmm what is he gonna find in the boxes?

She was almost a nun? Interesting? I guess. Is that what’s gonna make them break up?? What??

The teddy bear!

I really hope Mara is okay :(

“To avoid not having sex.” Help.

Eddie has “a reservoir of Catholic guilt lying dormant.” Listen, is this about Marisol right now? Yes, as far as Eddie is aware. Could this also be. Hinting at something……

“Like sea monkeys”???? Lmao

Eddie is. Pent up. Jesus Christ

“You think I should go to confession?” “No I think you should go to Cap.” these two dumbasses. Sound advice though, he should talk to Bobby.

Oh no! Denny!

Loving this conversation with Eddie and Bobby so far

Bobby pointing out the main thing Eddie has a problem committing to is women…

We’re talking about Shannon!!

The church is a lot of the reason they got married! They both felt pressured!! “Loved being married to her”

Lmao Bobby calling God ‘Marisol’s ex’

Ahhh fuck. Mara’s 911 call is devastating.

Eddie is hiding from Marisol at Buck’s place lol.

“We were on a date” “wait, Tommy’s gay?” Eddie what about Buck, who was. Also on that date.

“This doesn’t change a thing between us” aaah this is so sweet!!!

Awww Buck can’t stop thinking about him. (Listen I will always ship Buddie but I’m also loving BuckxTommy right now!!! I can like both!!)

“He doesn’t know you’re an idiot. Once he gets to know you, and know that you’re an idiot, he’ll love you!! Like we all do!!” Ahahahaha

Hug!

So. Eddie and Marisol aren’t breaking up. (Yet?)

TOMMY! “I didn’t cut things short because you behaved badly, I did it because I didn’t want to pressure you.” YES. Love love love this.

Lmao Tommy’s reaction to Buck asking him to Maddie’s wedding. Just “ahahaha. What??”

Buck and Eddie are a MESS

WHAT HAPPENED TO CHIMNEY

#911 abc #911 spoilers #911 7x05

[wrathfulrook]

Holy Mary, Mother of God

Summary: As Staci suffers under Jacob and the cult, he turns back to his religion. Every day he prays to the Holy Mother, both to beg her help and to remind himself that he is not a Peggie.

Rating: M

Word Count: ~1.2k

Read it on ao3.

Staci hadn’t been to Mass in years, since he had moved out of his parents’ house. He hadn’t been to confession in even longer, not since he was confirmed. He didn’t remember the last time he prayed. Not that he didn’t believe. He did. He had Faith. He just wasn’t very observant.

Maybe this was his punishment.

While going through his trials, mindlessly killing and fighting for his life, he considered that he had died in the helicopter crash and had gone to hell. It made sense. Spending his time alert starved and thirsty in a cage under the hot sun, his time in the trials a thoughtless red haze of blood and death.

He’d prayed for the first time in a long time. Initially to God, but then to St. Sebastian. In middle school, Staci had chosen Sebastian as his confirmation saint for no other reason than that he was the patron saint of athletes and that he had survived the first attempt on his life. Staci just thought he was cool. Though, once he heard the name “Staci Sebastian” spoken aloud for the first time in front of the entire parish, he felt it was significantly less cool. And he never gave too much thought to his confirmation saint afterwards.

But throughout his trials he prayed to the saint for strength. If St. Sebastian could survive being tied to a tree and used for target practice, he could survive this ordeal. He could be strong. And so he was.

After the trials, the physical torture stopped, but Staci didn’t feel any relief. Any one slip-up, a single display of weakness, and he would be reclassified as meat. And he was under far more scrutiny than the average resident of the vet center. Jacob kept him close, made him his personal assistant. He was always there, always watching. Staci was supposed to be strong but submissive, a fine line to walk.

He didn’t pray to St. Sebastian too much after his trials. He didn’t pray to God much either. The Peggies prayed to the same God, and something about that didn’t sit right with Staci. Instead, he prayed to Mary. The Peggies didn’t care about St. Mary. Protestants never did. So Staci directed his prayers to the holy mother of God.

He started every morning with a silent Hail Mary and a request that she protect him, that she look after him. His thoughts turned to the sinless, virgin mother every time Jacob knocked him around, every time he suffered. And he suffered a lot as Jacob’s assistant. And he witnessed even more suffering. Every time he passed the cages, every time he witnessed bodies carried out of their trials, tied to posts for target practice, or fed to the wolves, he asked Mary to watch out for them, to ensure their suffering was taken into account, weighed against their time to be spent in Purgatory.

And every night, to help himself fall asleep despite the sounds of screams and howls of wolves he never got used to, he prayed the Rosary, keeping count on his fingers since he didn’t have the beads. And it always worked; he fell soundly asleep long before he reached final Mystery. But more than that, it brought him comfort. He didn’t remember every Mystery. He couldn’t recite the Apostle’s Creed. But he did as much as he could, and he tried. And it was something the Peggies never did. Not even Joseph, their beloved “Father,” prayed the Rosary, despite wearing the beads as some sort of blasphemous accessory.

No. Staci wasn’t like them and they weren’t like him. He was Catholic. His Faith had clear rules and doctrine and hierarchy. Something so horrible as the Project at Eden’s Gate could never happen in the Catholic Church. A priest goes as bonkers as Joseph? The bishop steps in. And the parish would never let their priest turn out like Joseph, because deviations from the Catechism wouldn’t be tolerated. It was all so clear. Every question had a clear, prescribed answer. And if you followed the hierarchy to the top, the Pope spoke directly with the Holy Spirit. He wasn’t a mad man claiming divine knowledge. He was official, appointed, and bound within the limits of the role.

You simply couldn’t make a crazy Catholic cult. Every cult he’d ever heard of was made up of Protestants. Staci never like Protestantism for that very reason. It was all so fluid and subjective. It never seemed like any two churches, even of the same denomination, were on the same page. That’s how people like Joseph happened. That’s how Staci ended up in this position.

They could do a whole lot to him. But they could never make him a Peggie. Not really, not in his heart.

He wished he was stronger. Maybe Jacob was right. Maybe he was weak. He wanted to be strong enough, brave enough, to pray the Rosary out loud. He wanted to tell Jacob no when he dragged him along to services. He wanted to stand up for his own beliefs and stay strong and unwavering as he was literally thrown to the wolves. He wished he had the balls to stand up and die a martyr.

But that’s where he and his confirmation saint differed. Staci could never stay strong when staring down the barrel of a gun. He couldn’t resist the conditioning Jacob subjected him to. And he couldn’t make himself assert his true beliefs, not when he’s seen what happens to the people who don’t even do anything to make the Herald angry. He was weak.

So, he prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for strength. He asked Mary to intervene on his behalf, to ask her Son to show him mercy, to help him in some way, any way.

No help ever came.

And maybe he was dead after all? Not in Hell, like he’d initially thought. Maybe this was Purgatory. He suffered so much that it had to be for a reason. Maybe this was the suffering he must endure to cleanse his soul, to finally be worthy of Heaven. If this was Purgatory, it was working. He was becoming a better person. He was less of an asshole, just quiet and empathetic. He prayed multiple times a day. Wasn’t Purgatory supposed to bring you closer to God? Staci had never been more religious than now. Maybe because he was dead.

He hoped so. He hoped this was Purgatory so that when it was finally over, when he’d finally atoned for all his sins in life, he could go to Heaven. Never to suffer again. He hoped this was Purgatory so that it wasn’t really happening to others. So that there were no people in cages back in Hope County, that no one was being fed alive to wolves. He hoped that this was all being done for his benefit, to make his soul pure again, to ready him for eternal life in Heaven.

But he couldn’t be sure. So, just in case, he prayed.

#my stuff #staci pratt #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fic #fc5 #fc5 fic

[invisibleraven]

"I'm sorry for not seeing it sooner." for Ray + any of his plethora of children?

Warning for implied child abuse

When Julie first brought the guys home, Ray immediately clocked that they all had issues with adults, parents especially. He decided not to pry, once Julie told him that none of them had good home lives. Just told her to pass along the message that if they ever wanted to talk, a place to stay, or something to eat, he was there for them.

Most of the time, Ray only caught glimpses of the guys. Coming and going from rehearsals, waving at him as they raided the fridge for snacks, or sometimes sitting around the kitchen table trying to get homework done.

They were all polite enough, and helped Julie find her music, her voice, herself once more. So Ray automatically liked them, and loved when he got little glimpses into who they were.

Luke was brash and loud, but he adored Julie almost as he loved music, which said something. Music was something that Luke took very seriously, but he also beamed when Ray complimented their songs or congratulated them on gigs, like he was desperate for someone to validate his passions. Ray often tried to engage him in conversations about music, and even let him borrow some of Rose's old vinyl for inspiration when he was stuck on a song. Luke had beamed at that, and even gave him a quiet thanks. Ray resolved to be as supportive as he could from there on out, and when he actually started helping the band book gigs through his connections, Luke all but threw himself into a hug with Ray, who gladly accepted the affection, even if Julie shook her head at how much her boyfriend loved her dad.

Alex was a bit more reserved, but he had a sarcastic wit, and always helped tidy up afterwards. Though he tensed up whenever Ray asked the boys to join in grace during the rare meal they shared. Finally, Ray took Alex aside and told him he was under no obligation to pray with them. As long as he was respectful of the Molina's beliefs, Ray wouldn't push. Alex had tersely admitted that he had been raised Catholic as well, but his parents had used it as a weapon against him after he came out. Ray had pulled him in for a hug at that, promising Alex that he may be religious, but he believed in a loving God and fully thought that anyone who condemned others for their sexuality were idiots who didn't understand the scripture. Even offered to bring Alex to their very open and friendly church if he ever wanted to come. Alex had declined, but at the next family meal, asked to lead grace, so Ray counted that as a win, especially given Alex had also brought his boyfriend Willie along with him, something he had confessed he had never done at his own home.

Reggie was as sweet as pie, but also very jumpy around loud noises. Ray didn't think much of it at first, sometimes people are skittish, and given how often Reggie tended to be lost in his own little world, a jarring departure from that was bound to make anyone jump. But then it became concerning, as it happened all the time. Not only that, but if Ray ever raised his voice (something he did quite infrequently), it caused Reggie to flinch, shrink in on himself, or even leave the area. It wasn't until he saw the bruises that Reggie tried to keep hidden that it all clicked into place.

"Reggie...." The boy jumped, pulling his shirt down where it had ridden up, plastering a false smile on his face.

"Hey Ray, what's up?"

"I was hoping you would tell me." When the boy shot him a confused look, Ray mimed lifting his shirt, causing Reggie to deflate. "I saw them Reggie. I'm just sorry for not seeing it sooner. Maybe I could have done something to have stopped it."

"It's not the first time, won't be the last I got clumsy," Reggie said, trying to brush it off.

"I have known you for some time now Reggie, and clumsy is one thing you're not," Ray replied. "I can't make you tell me, but if you want it to stop, you can come talk to me. Or Victoria, she's a social worker, she could help. Get you out, find you someplace safe."

"I can't start over somewhere else. Leave my friends, the band behind. I'm almost eighteen, it's okay," Reggie said with a shrug.

"But it shouldn't have to be," Ray argued. "Look, I'm a registered foster parent. Rose and I got approved just before she got her diagnosis, but... mi casa es su casa, if you want it."

Reggie didn't answer, so Ray just gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, letting him know the offer was always open. So he wasn't surprised when Reggie turned up with a overstuffed duffel bag and a black eye later that week.

"Welcome home mijo," he said, pulling him in for a tear filled hug.

#filled prompts #ficlet #ray & reggie #ray molina: best tv dad #julie and the phantoms

[prittyvenus]

The Medium and the Nameless Ghouls

Case file 002-7 audio confession

Sara: Aria English (US) 

Copia: Diego Italian (Italy) Edited 

Dewdrop: Ryan English (UK) Edited 

Aether: Eric English (US) Edited 

Sara’s Sister: Michelle English (US) 

(Made with Microsoft Word, Bing, and Audacity)

Sara: If you Feel yourself getting worse just let me know and I will stop. Do you understand? 

Dewdrop: Yes, I understand. 

[phone rings] 

Copia: What is that? 

Sara: Oh no... Hold on a minute. 

[Phone stop] 

Sara: Yes, what is it? 

Sister: Big Sister, I got some news about your ex-husband. 

Sara: I Don’t want to know, and I don’t care. It’s over between us. 

Sister: But Sara your ex-husband just got his ass kicked. 

Sara: I told you this before. I don’t care. 

Sister: Why are you being so cold to him? 

Sara: Do you want me to block you? You know I’m not the type to bluff you know. 

Sister: Then fine. I’ll call dad. 

Sara: Sorry about that. 

Copia: Are you going to get into trouble? 

Sara: No, my dad always has my back. Even after my divorce. Now then, State your name and occupation. 

Copia: My name is Papa Copia Emeritus the fourth. 

Sara: Not you Copia. I was asking Dewdrop. 

Dewdrop: Me? Uh... 

Sara: Copia, can you comfort Dewdrop? I think he’s getting nervus. 

Dewdrop: No, I can take it. 

Copia: Let me be next to you, just in case. 

Dewdrop: Okay, fine. 

Sara: Again, please state your name and Occupation. 

Dew: I’m Dewdrop, Former water Ghoul number 157, now fire ghoul number 106. Bass man turned lead guitarist for project ghost. 

Sara: Alright then, can you tell me what happens on the afternoon of March fifth? According to your brother Sodo, you saw Lucia Watson murdered at the clergy garden. Can you clarify that statement? 

Dewdrop: Yes. I was patrolling around the garden at the north western part of the clergy. I was admiring the fish at the pond. You can sort of say I was goofing off. Then I overheard some yelling from of the Clergy offices. There I saw Sister Lucia and Bishop Johnathan arguing about Papa’s position at the clergy. 

Copia: What did I do? Did I do something wrong? 

Sara: I don’t think you did anything wrong. 

Dewdrop: No, they wanted your seat, Papa. 

Copia: Cosa vogliono con la mia sedia? (What do they want with my chair?) 

Sara: I think he means they want your position of power. The bishop wants to be the next Papa of the Clergy of Sin. 

Dewdrop: No, It’s not like that. It’s Sister Lucia who wants Papa’s position of power. 

Copia: No, it's not true! She is the love of my life; Lucia will never betray me. 

Sara: Papa Copia, please calm down. 

Dewdrop: I’m sorry papa, but what I’m saying is the truth. Lucia somehow found out about getting a high rank position by becoming Papa’s prime mover. 

Sara: Prime Mover? What is that? 

Copia: A prime mover is a maternal slave. You know a child bearer for the Dark one. 

Sara: Does she know about that? 

Dewdrop: No, she didn’t want to listen. Even Bishop Johnathan warned her of the risk. But then she started to blackmail him. 

Sara: What kind of black mail? 

Dewdrop: I’m trying to recall, but I think it was about a young girl that was killed in a catholic church somewhere in Argentina. 

[door knocks] 

Sara: Hold on. Yes, what is it, Aether? 

Aether: Sorry to interrupt but Sister Imperator is down the hall. 

Copia: Looks like we may have to cut this down short. 

Dewdrop: I’m sorry if I wasn’t useful. 

Sara: No, you did more than enough even in your condition. 

Dewdrop: Thank you. 

Copia: you take it easy and get some rest. 

Sara: When you get better, come by at the mansion of the three papas. We’ll talk more there.  

Dewdrop: Alright then. Thank you for your time. 

Aether: Good bye baby doll. 

Dewdrop: Get the fuck out of here Aether! 

Case file closed

Case file contents

#papa emeritus iv #nameless ghouls #copia #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #papa popia #sister imperator #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul

[yourgirlsfriday]

✝️- is my muse’s faith important to them? How does this inform their daily life?

Sam, Revati, Sorcha, Wanda

Revati is agnostic, and she regards organized faith suspiciously at best. Organized religion will make her turn and walk the other way. Given her employment within Hollywood, this can cause some strife between her another actors, especially those who are Evangelicals or Scientologists.

Sam is a non-practicing protestant. He came up in the Baptist Church. While he respects those who are respectful of religion in general and individual faiths, he found that his prayers often went unheard. So his faith in the unseen waned, and faith in the seen took over.

(answering this for the triplets since Sorcha's pretty well documented unless I accidentally deleted it and now I have to check.)

The Rogers are Irish Catholic, and their faith in God was absolute until their teens. They had, until that point, been sure it was God's will they kept walking the Earth. Heaven knows they were sick enough to have been taken to the beyond a dozen times over each.

When the war starts, and his sisters leave months into the US's entrance to it, Steve feels his faith waiver. Especially when Saoirse's letters stopped and several of Sorcha's were just notes to say she was well. His faith waivered with every F4 stamp, but it was bouyed by Erskine seeing something in him worth while. It was bouyed again after Sorcha came out of the Vita-Ray pod healthy and whole.

Steve's faith is snuffed out when he is the last of his family to survive the war. It gradually creeps back in over the following years. He left the church and faith all together until the mid-60s. Though Dr. King was a protestant, him being such a prominent face of the Civil Rights era lead Steve back to his faith.

Saoirse's faith was slowly erased over the course of the war. Each mission that was in direct conflict with her morals eroded it, each death of a friend snuffed a little of that light. By the time she woke up in the Red Room, her faith had died. She acknowledges no faith or faith-practice as useful or her own.

Sorcha's faith has become a complicated series of contradictions. All of their past happened for a reason, but she can't believe that God meant for Saoirse and Bucky to be experimented on. She can't accept her near-seventy-year nap was part of a plan, that Steve was meant to be alone like that.

Upon waking, Sorcha clung to her faith, to the ritual of the prayers, confession, the trappings of it all. It kept her feeling sane. But once she began to adjust, so too did her need for the ritual. She will still bless her food and pray but church is for High Days and personal important events, in celebration of the faith and the event at hand.

Wanda's family was Serbian and Jewish. The combination lead to the practices of faith being hidden all together and later simply downplayed from the 1930s to the present. Her family weathered the Yugoslav Wars, which tested everyone's faith.

The death of her parents, at the hands of those with far more than the Maximoffs had, shook her faith down to it's foundations. People are not, after all, put upon the earth to suffer. That faith informed her during the years where she and Pietro were alone, years where she set aside all faith rituals in favor of survival.

Discovery of her powers brought with it a different challenge. The faith looks at witchcraft as taboo - but the practices relegated to such a label change. Wanda had to grapple with the notion she was unwanted by her god. Eventually, around the time she joined the Avengers, she came down on the side that people were not placed here to suffer, and her powers were not meant to be hidden when there were people suffering. Especially those of her own faith.

#( revati | h e a d c a n o n ) #( sam | h e a d c a n o n ) #( steve | h e a d c a n on ) #( masha | h e a d c a n o n ) #( sorcha | h e a d c a n o n ) #cw; faith #( mail | a n s w e r e d )

[littlweirdostuffwritesworld]

Soft boy

Summary: Where Matt is dating a girl who overwhelms him with love and care and he's not used to it. And he's also embarrassed about what he wants her to do to him

In short, he wants to be pampered

Note: Matt Murdock deserves attention, love and affection

Warnings: fluffness and smuttiness in maximum level, nipple play, nipple licking, fingering, ex toxic relationship ( I don't care what people say but him and Elektra reletionship was kinda toxic so go team Karen)

Matt and Joanne have been together for 5 months and everything is going smoothly. Joanne is a doctor who has a clinic next to the Nelson and Murdock office, the woman is a close friend of Claire Page and Luke Cage.

Since they met it was love at first sight for them they had so many things in common, how they both grew up in the church and how their faith was imposed by those who were next to them for Joanne they were her parents and for Matt it was because he had been raised by nuns.

A great friendship was born between the two they said everything, well not everything Matt had not yet revealed his secret identity, he didn't want to ruin everything and he didn't want to scare her, sometimes he forgot that Joanne is a genius.

Because one night I went to his clinic at midnight full of blood and cuts. "Oh my Matt what happened?" she screams anxiously it wasn't the first time she'd seen Matt hurt but not that hurt.

"I was attacked" she sat down in the deck chair

"Yes of course" she just did not believe it, how many times a blind person gets into trouble with criminals.

"Tell me the truth," she insisted as she disinfected the wounds on his right arm.

"I'm telling the truth ahh" he grunted him from the sting, Matt could hear Joanne's voice tremble a little, it was silent they could only hear their heartbeats.

"Sorry" he felt guilty he had his head towards the floor with guilt, he could no longer hide who he really was.

" I am...

"I know" the woman replied she continued to bandage her arm, suddenly Matt felt the doctor's hand.

"Can I?" she nodded her, from her arm her hand slipped down her back they were so cold they made her back arch.

"I'm worried you have become the most important person in my life, if I lost you I don't know what I would do" she confessed, he smelled of tears.

His hands sought the woman's face, the skin was smooth maybe there were some moles and then there were tears he smelled the salt and their foreheads he caressed her face.

"I'm so sorry, you too are my most important person" their fingers intertwined, slowly their faces approached and their finally their lips touched, the kiss was chaste.

"Joanne I like you, but no I want to put you in danger" the woman did not answer she took him by the face and kissed him again, the more they kissed the more lustful.

Both of their hands went under their shirt, I touched Matt's chest and he groaned.

"Matt we should stop, we just got together," she said twitching from the touch, they broke apart.

"Can you go home in this state?"

"No I think I need help" they both decided to go to the doctor's house, who was the closest, they were on the table eating take-away food.

"No wait, your mother is not alive and is she a nun?" she asked in shock.

"It was a long story post partum and her faith was too much for her to care for me, and in the end I ended up with a psychopathic blind soldier like me," he joked some deep face also thought he was a psychopath.

"You are not a psychopath you are a hero who saves lives, who tries to prevent children from becoming orphans like you because you are afraid that they will suffer. You are a protector of a community that is broken and that is trying to improve thanks to you"

" Thank you" he thanked blushing.

She later changed and they had an argument about who would sleep on the bed.

"Come on Matt we won't do other things we'll sleep enough, I know the Catholic in you is after the wedding but I don't have sofas?" the woman said sleepily on the bed.

"Then I'll sleep on the floor" the woman got up abruptly and pushed him onto the bed.

"Was it that hard Matty?" she was on top of him and the vigilante's face was in focus, many people called him by that nickname but when she did it she felt in seventh heaven.

"Tomorrow I'm free and I think you are free too tomorrow I'll take you out," he announced, making her smile.

"Yes" they got under the blanket and kissed each other on the lips and cheeks.

"Ok enough we can kiss again tomorrow" and he whined, he realized that he was the little spoon and he liked it, he could hear the heartbeat and breath of her beloved and strangely he felt safe.

Tadahh this is my second fanfic please be nice if you're confused or there are grammatical errors please be patient English is not my first language

#x black reader #x woc reader #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #nmcu #x poc reader #melanin #black girls #black tumblr #black girl magic

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

Desperation

I have finally hit 666 (amazing) followers and to celebrate that I decided to write you all something special! The following is absolutely blasphemous, sacriligeous, and immoral in every way. The church does not approve. If this will bother you, please keep scrolling. If this intrigues you, take a gander at the summary and warnings. 

Pairing: Geraskier

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Jaskier and Geralt finally enact one of their most taboo fantasies. 

Warnings: Public sex (in a church/confession booth), vibrating butt plugs (used during a church service), masturbation, dirty talk, edging, ruined orgasm.

Note: I am not encouraging anything that happens in this fic. Public sex is illegal, it will end in arrest and I believe you can be put on the sex offender registry. Please let this be a fantasy that stays a fantasy.

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

Jaskier was shaking, be it from excitement or nerves, he wasn't sure.

He hadn't been to church in… well. He didn't know exactly how long it had been but as soon as he managed to get out of it, he did. His parents still went, not to this church, thankfully, but to one across town.

Jaskier had been raised catholic in fact, although he certainly never thought he would end up back in a church. Not willingly, at least.

But after a discussion with Geralt, the couple had decided that this might be a way for him to… come to terms with some of his lingering resentment of the church.

Well, that and they both thought it was kind of hot.

Really, really hot.

Every step he climbed to the church doors had him breathing deeply as the motion pushed the plug he was wearing to press against his prostate.

He smiled tightly at the greeter at the door, dipping his right hand in holy water and making the sign of the cross.  He knelt quickly at the altar, wincing from the pressure the position put on the plug, and then hurried to find a seat, preferably near the back.  He had purposefully showed up fairly late so he could try to find a seat where he wouldn't be too crowded with people. Luckily, toward the back, on the right-hand side, the pews were mostly empty, and he was able to settle with a few feet between him and the other attendees.

He took a sharp breath as he sat down, trying to get comfortable. The plug he had chosen for today was one of the larger ones that curved just right so that most motions pushed it against his prostate. But the real reason he had chosen it was currently in his jacket pocket, a small remote that controlled the level of vibrations coming from the plug. It was off, currently, and Jaskier wasn't sure when or if he would have the confidence to turn it on, but the option alone had him excited. The danger of getting caught did too.

Eventually he had talked to Geralt and the two of them had come up with a plan. Jaskier had woken up that morning incredibly nervous but Geralt had assured him that if he wanted to do it, he would support him and that if he didn't, that was okay too. Fantasies could stay fantasies.

But he did want to do it.

So, there he was, shifting in a church pew, the butt plug in his ass keeping him hard and aching, his hand clenched tightly around the remote in his jacket pocket as he waited for the service to start.

As he listened to the hum of conversations around him, he let his mind wander back to that morning. Geralt had woken him early and shoved him in the shower. After a light breakfast, Geralt had pulled Jaskier back to their room and spent the next ten minutes working his fingers in and out of him at a maddeningly slow pace, finally pushing the plug in. Geralt had nudged Jaskier back into a standing position and helped pull up and fasten his pants, making sure to squeeze his hard on as he did so, drawing a whimper from him. Then Geralt had pulled Jaskier in for a rough kiss and marched him to the door, slapping him on the ass as he walked out of the house.

Jaskier shifted again, biting back a groan at the memory.

It wasn't much longer before it was time for mass to start, Jaskier huffing an uncomfortable breath as he stood up with everyone else as the hymns began.

Standing was easier on Jaskier than sitting had been so he was able stand comfortably through the opening prayer, grunting a bit as he finally sat again, drawing a look from the woman sitting to his right. He felt his cheeks color as he smiled slightly and nodded at her. She frowned at him but redirected her attention back to the front of the church.

As the readings began, Jaskier found himself fidgeting more and more with the remote in his pocket, wondering if he would really be quiet enough. They had tried at home and in the complete silence Geralt, had barely been able to hear it while sitting next to Jaskier. Deciding he could try it and pass it off as the vibration of his phone if worse came to worse, Jaskier quickly flipped the vibrations on their lowest setting.

The low vibrations suddenly pulsing against his prostate had his cock fill fully from the half-hardened state he'd been in since he had arrived at the church. He adjusted his jacket, making sure he looked decent as he breathed slowly. Pleasure was washing over him in warm waves, the pulse just right. No one around him had gave any indication they noticed anything odd, either.

Suddenly feeling brave, Jaskier flipped the vibration settings one notch higher. The faster sensation made him clench his hands, still breathing slow, trying to keep his composure. He moved in his seat, rocking slightly, reveling in the pressure on his cock.

Jaskier found his eyes drifting closed, enjoying the sensations. A loud sneeze a few rows in front of him brought him back to the present, his eyes shooting open as he realized where he was. He gave a surreptitious glance around his, thankful when he found no one paying him any attention.

He let the vibrations slow again, giving him a chance to recover some. The pleasure was still coursing through his body, making him pleasantly warm. The low burn of arousal was something he didn't feel often, too impatient to wait unless Geralt made him.

Shuddering lightly at the thought of Geralt bringing him to the edge just to deny him, Jaskier increased the vibrations again, this time up two notches, suddenly desperate for more.

His body nearly quaked with the strong vibrations and he had to force his eyes to stay open as the plug sent pleasure shooting up his spine. The warm pleasure he had been basking in suddenly getting warmer, hot even. He knew the jacket was necessary to hide his situation and the remote, but he wanted to take it off. Instead, he rocked his hips again, biting his lip at the grind of fabric against his length. It wasn't enough.

If he could just get a hand around himself, he wouldn't last, he knew.

Jaskier had lost track of the service and was unprepared when everyone around him stood. Panicking, he flipped the vibrator off completely, having to take a moment to calm down before he could stand. He made sure to keep his jacket hanging low, hiding the erection pushing against the zipper of his slacks. Standing meant the plug was no longer pressing directly to his prostate, giving him a chance to calm himself. He willed his erection to go down but the tight squeeze from his slacks and the thrill of being so debauched in a public space kept him rock hard.

By the time he was allowed to sit again he was aching, ready for the press of the plug to his prostate again, ready for the fire shooting up his spine. He clenched tightly as he resumed his seat, increasing the sensation, and quickly restarted the vibrations, this time going straight to the fourth setting. He shook at the sudden jolt. This setting was a pulsating sensation, almost a never-ending tap, tap, tap to his prostate. It was the setting Geralt kept it on when he wanted to undo Jaskier thoroughly.

Thinking of his husband had Jaskier biting back a whimper. He could feel his face heat up as his temperature rose. He wanted nothing more than to pull his cock out from his pants and give himself some relief. Suddenly, Jaskier felt his balls tighten, the feeling of impending orgasm washing over him. He squeezed the remote tightly, enjoying the feeling. He knew he could come from just this but that wasn't the plan. He switched the plug off quickly, sucking in sharp breaths as he tried to cool off. He was shaking, so close to bliss before yanking himself back from the edge.

Jaskier let himself tune back into the service, trying to figure out how much longer he would have to suffer this sweet torture. As his breathing was evening out and he was trying to identify what was happening, everyone began standing again. He followed their lead, trying to remain inconspicuous despite still being so worked up. He focused his gaze on the front of the church, recognizing the reciting of the creed. He let out a slow breath, not much longer.

Jaskier went through the rest of the service in a daze, his erection never faltering. It wasn't until the communion when he realized he realized he had turned the plug back on. As he stood before the priest, his heart dropped, sure that this would be it, he would be caught. The priest simply nodded at Jaskier, gesturing for him to return to his seat. Hurrying as fast as his shaky legs could carry him, Jaskier went back to his seat and sat down, shaking, breathing hard. The woman beside him looked at him curiously but focused her attention forward again when the priest began speaking.

He knew he should stop, but it felt so fucking good. Cranking up the toy to the fifth setting, Jaskier let out an involuntary whimper, curling in on himself. He tried to breathe through the shocks of pleasure, but his breathing was ragged at best. It took everything in him to bite back the sounds he was making, and he felt tears stream down his face. He was so desperate.

A gentle touch to his shoulder made him jerk up. He looked around frantically, tear tracks staining his cheeks. He was still shaking as he realized the woman who had been sitting beside him had moved closer.

She looked concerned but he didn't know how to assure her he was fine. Not while he was shaking, crying, desperately trying not to cum, not yet.

"I'm fine, thank you," He choked out.

She nodded at him.

The loud, "Peace be with you," startled him.

"A-and also w-with you," he managed to stutter out.

He sat through the last fifteen minutes through sheer force of will. He looked around, groaning quietly as he realized everyone was filtering out of the church. Oh, he was so close.

Walking through the church to where the confessionals were was a challenge, but Jaskier was determined. He had waited in his seat until he was about to cum, turning the vibrations off quickly. He stayed there until he was able to stifle the soft sobs and clean up his face some. He was still on edge, desperate for relief, but he was calmer now. Calm enough to make his way to the last confession booth, the one a little further away from the others.

Stepping into the booth and closing the door securely behind him, he listened closely until he heard movement in the other side of the booth. Clearing his throat, Jaskier said softly, "Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been… twenty years since my last confession."

A deep voice hummed thoughtfully from the other side of the booth, "That's a long time. Go ahead, tell me your sins."

Jaskier smiled at the sound of the voice, letting the tension fall from his shoulders. He shuddered as he turned the plug back on, on the lowest setting.

"I… am bisexual. I married a man." He started slowly, letting out a soft moan as he cupped his cock through his pants. Finally.

"Is that all?" The deep voice responded.

Panting, Jaskier released himself from his pants before responding, "No. I… pleasured myself during the service."

The other man grunted softly, "How?"

"H-how?" Surely, he wasn't asking…

The response was gruff, "Yes. How did you pleasure yourself during the service?"

Oh. He was asking… "With… a plug. It v-vibrates."

A chuckle this time, making Jaskier shiver, "Are you still wearing it?"

Jaskier turned the setting up to two, "Yes."

"It is on?"

Jaskier breathed out a sigh, stroking his cock slowly, "Y-yes."

There was a long silence before finally, "Are you touching yourself?"

Jaskier squeezed tightly around the base of his cock, willing himself not to orgasm yet, "Yes."

"Hmm… do you think you deserve to keep pleasuring yourself?"

"W-what?" Jaskier's voice rose in pitch at the question as he turned the vibrations up to the fourth setting, still squeezing his cock.

"I don't think you do," the voice responded, matter of factly, "I think you had your pleasure during the service. Tell me, did you cum?"

"No!"

"Hmm… I don't think you should get to orgasm today. Sinners don't deserve to cum, do they?"

Jaskier whimpered as he turned the plug up to five.

"You're not listening, are you?"

Jaskier choked out a sob, "I'm so close." He started stroking himself again, so very desperate.

And he was so close, his peak closing in quickly. He let out a gasp and thrust into his hand.

"Jaskier stop. Turn it OFF." The demanding voice shocked him out of the cloud of pleasure, and he stopped stroking himself and he grabbed for the remote, shutting it off just before he came.

He shook violently, his cock spilling over his jacket. He whimpered; his body had released but he felt no pleasure.

"Oh no… did I ruin your orgasm?" Jaskier sobbed softly and dropped to his knees.

It wasn't long before gentle hands were stroking his face, wiping his tears. He opened his eyes to see the beautiful amber of Geralt's looking back at him, "Hey, you with me?"

Jaskier nodded weakly.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Please?"

The next thing Jaskier knew, he was being gently lowered into a warm bath. He felt Geralt slide in behind him and he snuggled back into his chest.

"Hey," Geralt's voice was gentle, "how are you feeling?"

Jaskier hummed, his head pillowed against Geralt's pec, "Spacey."

"Good spacey?"

"Yeah."

It wasn't much longer before Jaskier felt himself falling asleep.

He wasn't sure how long it had been when he finally awoke, but he was dressed in one of Geralt's shirts and was tucked into their bed, Geralt resting beside him.

Jaskier smiled and sniggled into Geralt's side, enjoying his warmth. "I love you," he whispered softly.

Geralt grunted without opening his eyes, "I love you, too."

"Thank you… for today."

Geralt pulled Jaskier closer into his side, "I was happy to help you. Did you enjoy it?"

Jaskier made a content noise, "Very much. But I don't think we should do it again. The church part. The rest was nice."

"Hmmm."

"Hey… you never did tell me how you were sure that we would be able to sneak into that confessional."

Geralt chuckled, "An old friend owed me a favor."

Jaskier gasped, "Did you cash in a favor with a priest for me?"

"Go back to sleep Jaskier."

Jaskier huffed, "Fine. But when we get up, I'm getting the whole story."

Geralt rolled on his side and wrapped both arms around Jaskier, "Whatever you want, dear husband."

Jaskier let his eyes close as he reveled in the safe cocoon of Geralt's arms, "Just you, dear heart. You are all I want."

-

Thanks to @hailhailsatan for helping me with my research into catholic mass! And her support and read through and just being a wonderful fucking person. And thanks to @fontegagrilledcheese for encouraging my depravity <3

Check out my masterlist!

 Tag list: @stinastar​​​ @feraljaskier​​​ @bastardofmothman​​​ @hailhailsatan​​​ @moonysourenza​​​ @its-onions​​​ @elliestormfound​​​ @dapandapod​​​ @geraskier-trashh​​​ @jaskierswolf​​​ @fontegagrilledcheese​​​ @negativenuggetz​​ @veritasrose​​  @kozkaboi​​ @kueble​​ @llamasdumpsterfire​​ @selectivegeekwithstandards​​

#the witcher #the witcher fandom #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier

[literaryfic]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, vincenzo and cha-young are exes, they were in a relationship before, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jealousy, Exes, Getting Back Together, Not Canon Compliant, i wrote this before ep 20

Summary: Sipping on his third — or fourth, he’d stopped counting a while back  — whiskey of the night, Vincenzo fantasised about snapping the neck Cha-young’s fingers were delicately wrapped around. 

To Vincenzo, regret was like an old friend. He’d become accustomed to its familiar weight over the years, learnt its intricate shapes and colours. More than that, he’d learned to welcome the intimate ways in which regret accompanied his every step. 

The blood on his hands, his mother, her… Yes, it seemed regret was the recurring theme of his life. Alas, in spite of all the years he’d spent acquainted with it, he could not silence the wails of anguish of his heart. 

“Mmh.” A simple sound had sufficed to sink his soul to slumber.*

He’d always known this was a possibility. He’d thought about it endlessly, convincing himself that he wouldn’t care, that being in her life was enough. But Vincenzo was a greedy man, and he’d never desired anything more than he desired her.

Her. Cha-young. His Tesoro. 

Rarely did Vincenzo say or even think of her name when his mind wandered back to her. He treated it like a jewel, a precious gem meant to be tucked away in the corner of his soul, only to be let out under extraordinary circumstances. 

Her name on his lips would not be said in vain, for he was a pious man and her, a Goddess. He’d converted to her cult the moment she’d kissed him, her lips initiating him to her worship. 

And so, he prayed to her. When he’d reached the edge of the cliff, the troubled waters calling out to him, whispering in his ear that drowning would put out the fire that consumed his being, he prayed. 

He’d go to a small Catholic church in Milan, high ceilings and stained-glass windows glimmering in the evening sun, and he’d sit in the last row, his hands clapped together. He’d recite his prayers, confess his sins and plead. I love you. Forgive me. Wait for me.

The Goddess, however, was a capricious being, and it seemed she had not heard his pleas. Or maybe she had, but had deemed him unworthy. 

Vincenzo had wondered if she had found someone else, if she had been happy without him. Wasn’t human nature so contradictory? He had been sure that leaving her was the most selfless act of love he’d be capable of, yet that ‘Mmh’ had set his soul on fire. 

He had promised himself that if it were to happen — if Cha-young had forgotten about him, if leaving really had been the gift he’d first thought it was — , he would be content with just seeing her again. Even if all he’d get was a furtive look, that alone would be enough to satisfy the thirst he’d been dying of for the past five years. What a naïve thought. He knew the moment he’d seen her again, that night on the beach. He needed her. 

Now, watching her slow dance in someone else’s arms, Vincenzo thought about torture. He’d inflicted it on many of his enemies before and knew the myriad of ways in which the human body contorted itself when in agony. 

Vincenzo reaches for the gold lighter in his pocket, the reassuring clicking sound helping him organise his thoughts. 

He would start by pulling out his teeth one by one. Then, he’d move on to his fingers. It’d make a mess, but he wouldn’t die right away. Vincenzo would be able to enjoy the fun for quite a while, actually. Would the man scream until his vocal cords bled? Would he convulse, his body distorted by tremors, eyes rolling back?

Sadly, the only one getting tortured is him; the only cries of pain, his heart’s. 

Sipping on his third — or fourth, he’d stopped counting a while back  — whiskey of the night, Vincenzo fantasised about snapping the neck Cha-young’s fingers were delicately wrapped around. 

 Like moths to a flame, Vincenzo’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the pearly white of her thigh, revealed by the split of her long, form-fitting dress. She looked otherworldly tonight, her hips swaying to the slow beat of the love song playing in the background. Here she was, with her straight, shiny hair reflecting the dim lights of the ballroom, her red lips complimenting her flushed cheeks  — a fallen angel gracing them with her presence. 

The man holding her in his arms was in his late thirties, and while he was the same height as Cha-young with her heels on, he had broad shoulders and large hands. He looked down at his feet whenever he laughed, which made his glasses slide off his nose ever so slightly. After a while, he’d readjust them and run his hand through his short hair, the start of an endless loop.

He wondered what she saw in him, if it was something in his eyes or in his voice. Did she kiss his knuckles whenever he was working on some paperwork, lost in thoughts yet reluctant to let go of her hand? Did she kiss his neck and whispered ‘I'm here, it’s okay’ whenever he had a nightmare? Did her fingers trace ‘I love you’s’ on his shoulder blades while they were laying in bed? 

And if she did, was it because he looked at her like she was the most precious thing on this earth? Was it because he had secretly learned her favourite recipe, the one her mom used to make when she was sick? Was it because he held her tight when she cried, stroking her hair and murmuring comforting words against her skin? 

He looks harmless, Vincenzo thinks. The alcohol is getting to him.

‘Is he a good person?’

‘Mmh. He is.’

He shakes his head, banishing memories of yesterday’s conversation from his mind. That’s a relief. Cha-young deserves to be with an ordinary man who lives a righteous life, away from all the murders and the evils of this world. Yet, his heart aches every time she smiles at him. 

Him, who is everything he’s not. Him, who’s making her laugh, and smile, and blush. 

The man leans in to whisper in her ear, and Vincenzo can’t take it anymore. He pays for his drinks and leaves, the sound of his lighter not enough to ground him anymore. He needs to get away, far from the sway of her hips and that man’s hand on her lower back. Before he knows it, he’s out of the hotel, on the beach. 

Stuck in his own personal hell, Vincenzo considers atoning for his sins. Surely, the fire blazing inside his body, boiling his blood and heating up his skin is worse than the Inferno he’d ineluctably be condemned to. 

Without thinking, he takes off his shoes, his trousers and his shirt, and dives into the ocean. He needed to put out the fire before he got burned alive. It’s a warm evening but the dark waters feel ice-cold on his heated skin. He swims until the cacophony of the waves crashing against the shore lulls him. He swims until he’s about to drown, limbs too heavy to float. How he manages to get back on the beach, he doesn’t know. He collapses in the sand, exhausted. The distant moon looks down on him, her inquisitive eyes strangely offensive. Tonight, the heavenly body is mocking him. Look at this fool, she laughed. Did you really think she’d wait for you?

Vincenzo wants to scream at her, or maybe at himself, but instead he cries. He doesn’t have the energy to fight it, or to feel ashamed. He is guilty of leaving her and he has no one else to blame. Regret might be an old friend, but guilt is his greatest foe. 

He forces himself to get up, knowing he’d get buried under the weight of his conscience if he stayed any longer. Putting back on his trousers only, Vincenzo carries his shoes and his top until he sees the hotel lights. Were they still dancing together? 

He stops before going inside, lighting a cigarette. He’d taken it up again after going back to Italy, another one of the nasty habits he indulged in. He stood near a huge palm tree, just at the entrance of the main building, probably why he didn’t see him. Cha-young’s… someone was standing there, smoking on the other side of the palm tree. Vincenzo holds his breath, not sure how to react. The man is on the phone, and although it isn’t his business, he can’t help but overhear his conversation. 

“No, no… I told you, nothing’s going on with her...Yes, I promise. I told you, she paid for all her employees, it’s a group thing. Mmh. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon. Me too.”

Forget torture, Vincenzo is killing this man with his bare hands tonight. 

*‘Sink Not Yet My Soul To Slumber’ is a Christian Hymn SINK not yet, my soul, to slumber, Wake, my heart, go forth and tell, All the mercies without number That this by-gone day befell: Tell how God hath kept afar, All things that against me war, Hath upheld me and defended, And His grace my soul befriended.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #vincenzo fic #chayenzo fic #my fic

[kaylaxwrites]

Catch the Wind

Pairing: Matt Murdock/reader Words: 7.2k Summary:  You like Matt. You’re pretty sure he likes you too. Then why does he say no when you ask? What is he hiding and why won’t Foggy tell you?Request:  “How about an old friend of Foggy and Matt, who has this will they won’t they thing with Matt and she finally tries to act on it for her only to get turned down by him. His decision was because he is too focused on being Daredevil and doesn’t want her to be swept up in that so they decide to be friends, but it takes a strain on her relationship with Matt but also with Foggy too. Then like decide where it should go from there” (anon)  A/N: decided to put this all in one part at an attempt for more notes lol

For me to love you now Would be the sweetest thing T'would make me sing Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind

“Catch the Wind” - Donovan

You had been best friends with Matt Murdock for nearly as long as you could remember. As the longest—and oldest—resident of Saint Agnes Orphanage, you had been assigned to show Matt around when he first arrived after his father’s death.

You quietly knocked on the open doorframe. The boy inside sniffled and quickly wiped away his tears before turning towards you. “Come in,” he said, never meeting your eyes. At first, you assumed he was embarrassed to be caught crying.

“Nice glasses,” you offered, hoping to draw his attention away from the death of his parents—or whatever happened to his family that led him here.

The boy pushed the glasses higher up on his nose. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

You stepped across the room and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “You must be special. Sister Anne would never let me wear sunglasses inside.”

“Oh, they’re…not really…sunglasses.”

He spoke so quietly, you didn’t really make out what he said. So you continued talking anyway. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Matt Murdock.”

You stuck your hand out for him to shake. “Nice to meet you, Matt Murdock.” You froze awkwardly as the kid made no motion to shake your hand. But then you put everything together—his dark glasses, the way he never met your eyes, the cane you were now noticing against the wall—he was blind. And you were an idiot. “I’m, uh, holding out my hand for you to shake.”

“Oh, sorry.”

At last, you shook hands, and you tried not to let the awkwardness sink in. “Um, so Sister Maggie told me to show you around. Do you want to go?” Matt nodded and stood, collecting his cane off the wall. You stood as well, unsure of yourself. “I’ve given this tour a dozen times to newbies, but never to a blind guy. How does this work? Do we hold hands or…?” You quickly shut your mouth. Obviously, you wouldn’t be holding hands—why would you hold hands with a stranger?

“No,” Matt chuckled. “Just give me your elbow.”

“Oh, sure.” You did as Matt said and led him out to the hallway. “I don’t know if they told you, but your room is the third one on the right. You must be lucky. You got a single room. Most of us have to share.” You directed Matt down the stairs until you were on the first floor. “We can’t go in now because they’re setting up for dinner, but the dining hall is here on the left. Breakfast is at 7 on weekdays, 8 on weekends, and dinner is always at 6.” You led Matt further down the hall and out the door. You stepped into a small, sunlit courtyard.

“This is the way to the church,” you continued explaining. “I don’t know if you’re Catholic, but you’re gonna be here real soon.” You stopped in front of the doors to the church, but didn’t go inside. “We’re required to go to Mass Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings, as well as the weekly Mass school gives.”

“School?”

“Yeah, Saint Agnes also runs a school on the other side of the block. It’s where we all go.”

“So I won’t be able to go to my old school anymore?”

You sighed. Newbies always had a hard time finding out they’d no longer be attending school with their friends. “No. Sorry.” His face fell. “But! I think we’re in the same grade, so we should have some classes together. I remember when I was the new kid, but, hey—you already got one friend. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“What friend?”

You nudged his shoulder. “Me, doofus.”

Matt smiled softly at you and from that moment on, you were thick as thieves.  

As you grew, you slowly realized you probably had more-than-friends feelings for Matt, but you never spoke about them out loud, nor did you dwell on them very often. Matt was your best friend—your only friend—and you didn’t want that to change. So you locked the butterflies in your stomach down tight and shoved those feelings in the back of your brain. It didn’t help that as you neared graduating high school, everyone thought you were dating. You even caught the nuns who worked the orphanage whispering sometimes about how wonderful the two of you would look married—as if things would ever get that far.

When you went to college, your pool of friends expanded by one: Matt’s roommate, Foggy. Foggy quickly became your other best friend—since you were around Matt all the time, it made sense that you and Foggy would be close as well. In fact, it was to Foggy one drunken night when you confessed your feelings for Matt for the first time.

You and Foggy stumbled back to campus after a night out on the town. You, Foggy, and alcohol were never a good mix—you always tried to drink the other under the table until neither of you could stand upright. You leaned against each other for support as Foggy fumbled with his keys to the dorm. You laughed loudly when he dropped them and fell trying to pick them up, but he quickly shushed you. “Shhhhh. Matt’s trying to study,” he slurred, trying and failing to whisper quietly. Matt said he couldn’t go out with the two of you that night because he had a test on Monday morning.

You made a zipping motion over your mouth, but giggled again as you watched Foggy unlock the door. He was on his knees, the doorknob at eye level, as he concentrated on putting the key in the lock as a surgeon would make an incision. He fell on his stomach when the door finally swung open. You leaped over him as soon as you could, eager to see Matt and annoy him to stop studying.

But the room was empty.

You turned to Foggy (finally standing), almost pouting. “Maybe he had to go to the library?” he offered. You shrugged, and then collapsed onto Matt’s bed. You weren’t sure your legs would hold you up any longer.

Foggy puttered around the room, trying to drunkenly change clothes, as you snuggled into Matt’s pillow. You closed your eyes to stop the world from spinning, but that made you realize how tired you were. “You know,” you yawned, almost half asleep now, “I think that girl at the bar really liked you.”

“Who? The pink shirt?”

You nodded into the pillow. “Yeah, she kept looking at you and smiling.”

“Huh.”

You peeked open one eye to stare at him. “Are you not going to ask me why I didn’t act as your wing woman?”

Foggy’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, no, that’s okay.” His voice was higher pitched than usual. What was he trying to hide? If you could move your limbs, you would have crossed the room to stare him down. As it was, you tried to be as intimidating as you could with your face half squished in a pillow.

“Who do you like?” you asked after a moment, finally coming to the conclusion that he must have a crush on someone.

“No one. Who do you like?” he countered.

“I’ll answer if you answer.”

He stared at you for a moment before flopping back on his bed. “You know the girl from my study group?”

You quickly sat up, instantly regretting it as the room—and your stomach—swirled uncomfortably. But you pushed it aside. “Marci Stahl? You like Marci?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Ooh, I am so going to have to tell her.”

“Don’t!” Foggy quickly turned to face you.

“Why not? I already know she likes you.”

“She does?”

“Um, yeah, it’s obvious.” That, and she sat with you at lunch one day and had asked about him.

“Cool,” he sighed happily, laying back down. You huffed a laugh, surprised that was all he had to say. You slumped back into Matt’s bed, eyes drifting closed. You were almost asleep when Foggy called you out on your promise. “Who do you like?”

You froze. You tried to search for a fake name, but the copious amounts of alcohol you had this evening meant you couldn’t think of one. So you sighed and figured you might as well say it. Foggy wouldn’t tell, right? And it was probably best you got it out of your system. “Uh…Matt?” you said quietly. You weren’t even sure if Foggy heard you.

But he did, and after a moment’s silence, he asked, “Have you told him?”

“Definitely not. I didn’t want to mess anything up between us and now…”

“Elektra,” Foggy finished for you.

It seemed Matt had been hanging out with Elektra more than you and Foggy lately. You tried not to let it get to you. Matt was allowed to have other friends, after all—even girlfriends—but something about her gave you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t put your finger on the feeling or why it was there, but it worried you nonetheless.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” you asked. But Foggy was already asleep.

You were pretty sure Foggy kept this secret over the years, as Matt never once mentioned it to you. Or he was so drunk he forgot about it. That, or Matt similarly thought you should just be friends and never brought it up himself. Either was okay with you.

But now your feelings were somehow growing and you were ready for things to change.

You were hanging out at Matt’s apartment—you always did, every Friday. It was tradition. The two of you were tucked into opposite ends of the couch, watching random things on your laptop. You described what was happening whenever an audio description wasn’t available. But it had been several minutes since you last spoke. Matt hadn’t dozed off, like you originally believed, but he was lost in thought. You tried not to disturb him, thinking he was planning his opening for a case or something like that.

But the three glasses of wine in your system had other plans.

You slowly slid across the middle of the couch until you were inches away, thighs nearly touching. Matt gave no indication that he noticed you. “Hey, Matt?” you whispered after a few moments of silence. His head tilted towards you, indicating that he was listening, but he said nothing. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he replied. He turned his body to face you, realizing from the tone of your voice, you guessed, that this was serious.

“I-I—uh…” you began. You heart pounded. What even were words? “Ilikeyou,” you finally breathed in one rush of words.

“I like you too.”

Your heart constricted. “More than friends, I mean.”

“I know.”

What? Your brain froze. You couldn’t comprehend. You were expected Matt to laugh you off, Matt to turn you down, Matt to do anything but that. “You—you do?” Matt nodded. “Then why…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He was smiling at you.

“I didn’t want to change anything. Between us. But I told Foggy once in college… I think maybe part of me thought he wouldn’t be able to keep his big mouth shut.”

“Oh, he told me.”

Your eyes widened. “He did? Oh, I’m gonna kill him.” You sprung from the couch, searching for your phone. But Matt stopped you with a hand around your wrist.

“Hey, it’s fine.” He pulled you back to sit next to him. Your thighs were pressed against one another. “I thought you wanted him to spill.”

“A bigger part of me wanted him to forget. We were really drunk that night.”

Matt’s thumb moved to rub circles on the inside of your wrist. Goosebumps raised on your skin. “I remember.” You were surprised he did. But you guessed maybe it was hard to forget the time your best friend told your other best friend that they liked you. Even if you weren’t there. You were sure Foggy gave him all the details.

Matt continued to rub circles into your skin and it was hard to think about much else. Your eyes raised to meet his. You sighed. His eyes were so gorgeous. You wished he didn’t hide them behind his glasses all the time, but you understood. Even then, you wished you could stare into his eyes all day.

Your gaze flicked down to his mouth. Before you knew it, your lips were pressed into his. He froze for a second, not returning the kiss, and you panicked. But before you could pull away, his hand was on the side of your face, pulling you closer. As your lips crashed into one another, you regretted not doing this sooner. He was an amazing kisser.

As things delved deeper, you turned to press your body tightly against his. You threw one leg across his lap and eased him back against the back of the couch. Your hands roamed—through his hair, over his shoulder, down his arms, across his chest. But when you brushed across his ribs, he gasped in pain and pulled back. You instantly sprung off of him.

“Oh, my god, are you okay?” you asked. “What happened?” You knew Matt somehow amassed a large collection of bruises and broken bones—he was just clumsy, he’d tell you ever since they started appearing in your teens. But you weren’t so sure. You’d never even seen Matt stumble once. You slapped Matt’s hands away as you reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his ribcage.

Blue bruises stood in stark contrast to his skin, surrounded by cuts and scratches of various depths. He winced when your fingers ghosted across the widest bruise—was a rib broken? Several other injuries trailed around his side and you figured his back was in similar shape.

“What happened?” you demanded once more. “Have you gone to the doctor? Were you mugged? Did you call the police?”

Matt’s hands landed on your shoulders to stop your barrage of questions. “I’m fine,” he said, but he gave no further explanation.

“That’s not fine, Matt.”

“I saw a nurse. It’s nothing that won’t heal in a couple of days.”

You breathed a small sigh of relief. But you were still left with so many questions. “Who did this to you? What happened?”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it’s handled. They won’t be bothering anyone else.”

“That’s good,” you sighed. You wanted to ask more questions, but you knew Matt was being purposefully vague. Why wouldn’t he tell you what happened? Why didn’t he tell you that he was hurt? You wanted to press him more, but you knew Matt was as stubborn as a bull and there was no way you’d get any more information out of him. Tonight, at least. So you decided to distract yourself with the other question filling your head. “So…what about us?”

“We can’t.” Matt’s answer was immediate. No hesitation.

You felt as if a horse had kicked you in the chest. Your breath was knocked out of you. “What?”

“I…we can’t. There’s too many things going on and I can’t risk it.”

“What’s going on? You can tell me—you can always come to me. You know you can.”

Matt hung his head, leaning over his knees. “I can’t.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears. Matt always came to you. You practically told each other everything. Had you messed things up by confessing your feelings?

“Does it have to do with your bruises?” you said softly.

Matt didn’t reply.

You stared at him, searching for words to say, begging for him to say something. But each of you remained silent.

Nothing.

“I have to go,” you said at last. You scrambled to throw on your shoes and gather your things.

Your heart shattered when Matt made no move to stop you.

“Do you know what’s going on with Matt?” you asked Foggy, pushing your food around with your fork. The two of you were at your favorite diner for your regular biweekly lunches.

“Uh, no. What do you mean?” Foggy’s eyes instantly darted out of the window. He fiddled with his hands. Foggy may be a lawyer, but you had known him long enough to know he knew exactly what was going on.

“I was at his place the other night and he had these bruises…” You gestured over your ribcage, indicating where Matt’s bruises were located.

“Oh. He probably fell down the stairs again. You know Matt.” Foggy chuckled nervously. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed skeptically. You stared Foggy down. Once or twice, he would glance up at you, but his gaze fluttered away when he realized you were still staring. The waitress brought your checks over and he fumbled getting his money out of his wallet and struggled with gathering his things. Before he could get up and leave, you spoke his name, forcing him to look at you. “Foggy. What’s going on with Matt?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Foggy.”

He looked at you and sighed. You were hoping he realized you wouldn’t back down. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“He promised me not to.”

“Is he in some sort of secret blind Fight Club?”

“If only.”

You reached across the table to grab Foggy’s arms. You leaned towards him. If your college days taught you anything, you might be able to puppy-dog-eye your way to get what you want. “Foggy. Is he in trouble?” you said slowly, quietly.

He turned his head, looking away, as if to find somebody who would rescue him from your gaze. But there was no one. “Y/N, I…I really can’t do this.” His voice was weak. “I can’t tell you.” He pulled free from your grasp, standing and walking away from you. “I’ll see you next week,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the building.

You sat back in your seat, resting heavily against the booth. What was going on? There was nothing, nothing that they had hidden from you before.

At least…not that you knew of.

So why were they hiding this?

You ignored their texts and calls over the next couple of days. You were angry that they were keeping things from you. You were upset that Matt had rejected your feelings just like that, so easily. Your emotions overwhelmed you and you weren’t sure how to process them—so you just ignored them.

After about a week of the silent treatment, they sent Karen over to your apartment one night. She carried your favorite takeout in her hands as a bribe. You took it, of course, but you weren’t happy about it.

“They’re worried about you,” Karen said once the two of you were sat at your table, food dished out in front of you.

You speared a vegetable with a little too much force. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t have to be if they would just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they have good reason.”

“You didn’t see the state Matt was in. Something big is going on.”

“Matt said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was mugged and they don’t want to tell you so you’re not worried?”

“I wish that was the case.” You turned to face her. “How are you so calm about this? I mean, don’t you think something’s up?”

“I talked to him a few days ago and…he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. With Matt’s stubbornness, he wouldn’t tell you anything until the information leaked on its own. You’d have to wear down Foggy or…

Karen sighed. She could tell she wasn’t going to be able to get through to you. She decided to change the subject before you could rant any more.

“Seen anything good on Netflix lately?” she offered and the two of you made small talk for the rest of the evening.

A few days later, you were cursing yourself as you were backed into an alleyway. How could you be so stupid? You dropped your guard walking home for one minute and look where it got you. You knew to always be aware of your surroundings, so why did you stop to check the notification on your phone? Just one cute video sent from a friend of her dog and you were about to be robbed of your belongings…or worse.

You tried to form an escape plan—or at least a get-out-alive plan—but your brain was short-circuiting. You nearly shrieked when a dark mass seemingly fell from the sky. Your heart sped faster. Was this man an accomplice to your attacker? Would you now have to face two men to get out of this alley?

But you breathed a small sigh of relief as the man rose from his crouched position on the concrete. You had seen enough pictures in the Bulletin to recognize that this was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. In the flesh. Right here in front of you.

The masked man took only one step forward but it was enough to send your would-be attacker running for the hills. The masked man cocked his head to the side, listening for a moment, before turning to face you. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was comforting, like an old friend.

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms in an effort to hide your trembling hands. “I wish I knew all it took to scare someone away was to wear a mask. Maybe I’ll start carrying one around.”

The man smiled, small but tense. “If only that’s all it took.”

You glanced awkwardly around the alley, unsure of what to say next. “I, um, thank you?” You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you tried again. “I…I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” You tried to clamp down on your wandering thoughts, but it was hard to stop the flashes of possibilities in your brain.

“Is there anyone you could call to come get you?”

Matt. Foggy. Karen. But you still didn’t feel like reaching out to any of them just yet. You shook your head. “No. My apartment’s just two blocks away, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just a little shaken, but I can make it. Thank you.”

The man hesitated a moment longer, seeming to check that you would actually be all right, before scaling the nearby fire escape in leaps and bounds until he disappeared in shadow. You took a moment to collect yourself before stepping out into the warm light of a streetlamp. You hesitantly made your way home, skittish and jumping at every little noise. You sighed a breath of relief when the deadbolt of your front door finally slid closed.

Even though you were on the fifth floor, you went around your apartment, checking that every window was locked and secured. You pulled the blinds closed for good measure. You froze when you spotted a figure crouched on the fire escape across the street, but smiled as you realized it was the masked man, seeing you safely home. Despite the evening’s events, you felt safe knowing the masked man was protecting the city.

You spotted the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen several more times over the next few weeks. You would catch glimpses of him on your walk home, spot him in shadows from out your window, heard the stories of those he saved. It was comforting, knowing he was out there. You didn’t think his persistent presence would one day turn against you.

You awoke in the middle of the night to a noise in your apartment. You laid still, ears searching for another sound. You relaxed when you heard none after a few minutes. Maybe your neighbor just dropped something, you thought. You closed your eyes and tried to fall back asleep. You tensed again at the sound of fabric rustling, realizing after a moment it was just your window curtains in the breeze. What had you so jumpy tonight? You had seen the masked man just this evening, keeping watch over the block. You knew nothing was going to happen…

You were nearly asleep when a hand clamped over your mouth and nose.

You were dazed and confused when your eyes finally fluttered open. You weren’t in your bed—had you fallen asleep working at the kitchen table again? You moved to stretch your arms and back, but something tugged tight at your wrists. You glanced down with groggy eyes to find a neatly knotted rope around each arm. You kicked your legs to find that they were similarly bound.

In an instant, your sleepy mind flashed to full clarity.

Not good. This was definitely not good.

Your eyes focused just ahead of you. Across a small wooden table was a well-dressed man with dark hair. He was sitting casually, almost lazily, with one leg draped across the arm of his chair. He was twirling a knife idly in his right hand and barely glanced at you when he spoke. “Finally awake?”

“Where am I?” you responded, giving another futile tug to your bindings.

“New York City,” the man deadpanned. You nearly rolled your eyes—you could’ve figured that one out yourself. The sounds were distant, muffled, but you could still make out the sound of the hustle and bustle of the busy city. You couldn’t exactly tell which borough you had been brought to, but you knew you weren’t in a residential area. The room you were in was big with tall ceilings, dim construction lights, and no windows aside from darkened skylights on the roof. An abandoned factory. A warehouse, maybe.

Well, isn’t that just a bit cliché.

You shivered as a draft eased over your skin. The building certainly didn’t have central AC—you were freezing in the thin pajamas you had been kidnapped it.

Kidnapped.

You had just been kidnapped. Why this was only registering now, you weren’t sure. You fought the panic rising in your chest. Hyperventilating now would be no good and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you passed out. A count of five to control your breathing, then: “What do you want from me?”

“It’s not you we want, sweetheart.” He rose from his seat, straightening his suit jacked and adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. He slowly stepped around the table and you couldn’t help but be reminded of a jaguar stalking its prey. You tensed when he disappeared behind you, but he was only gone for a moment before tossing several issues of the Bulletin across the table. “It’s him.”

You cautioned a closer look at the papers in front of you. Featured on each page was a different grainy photo of the man in the mask, Daredevil, whatever they were calling him these days. “I don’t—I don’t know him.”

“You don’t?” The man—your kidnapper—pulled out a few photographs, placing them slowly in front of you. The first was of you and Daredevil walking side by side. It was taken shortly after he had saved you from that alley, you realized, when he escorted you home. The second was a picture of the fire escape landing just outside your window. You were leaning out the window, handing him a bottle of water—the defender of Hell’s Kitchen needed to be hydrated, right? But glancing at the third picture, you were unsure of what it had to do with you. Until you realized it was of him kneeling on the rooftop of the building across from yours.

“We’ve been trying to track him down,” your kidnapper continued, “as he’s been interfering with several…business ventures of ours. He’s been very hard to locate. Fortunately for us, your apartment is one of his more…frequented locations. We just want to know who he is. Then we might be able to…set you free.”

“But I don’t know him!” you insisted again.

Your kidnapper retrieved a knife from his pocket, sliding the flat of it up the side of your arm. “It would be easier on the both of us if you just told me his name.”

“It would be easier if you’d just listen! I don’t know—” Your words abruptly cut off as the man slid the point of the knife against your thigh—not deep, but enough to slice through your pant leg and draw a thin line of blood. You could almost laugh. You were expecting much, much worse. “That’s the best you could do? I’ve had paper cuts worse—”

Your eyes widened. Why were you mouthing off at a time like this? Why would you say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid… In a flash, the man’s palm struck across your cheek, turning your head sideways. You tasted blood. Your lip was split. Fantastic.

“I just need a name.”

“I don’t have one!”

“Then let’s just hope he finds you in time.”

“What? No, please, please!” you shouted as his fist collided with your temple.

It was a slow night for Matt. He hadn’t stumbled across any emergencies needing his assistance nor could he hear any in the surrounding area. The night was almost too slow, it seemed. Without anything to do, he jogged across rooftops until he reached your apartment building. He always told himself it was just part of his nightly sweep of the neighborhood, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

It had been weeks since you’d talked to him—well, talked to him as Matt, that is. You had been his best friend for nearly two decades now. It pained him every day the two of you didn’t talk.

But it wasn’t like he didn’t understand.

He rejected you. He probably broke your heart and, to top it all off, he was hiding a huge secret from you! He understood why you were giving him the silent treatment—he’d probably do the same if the roles were reversed—but he was thankful he could still at least check on you every day, even if it was as the Daredevil. He just wished you wouldn’t take it out on Foggy, too.

Foggy was torn, to say the least. He hated to see his two best friends apart like this and hated knowing he had contributed to it in some way. He wanted to tell you Matt’s secret, he really did! But he couldn’t. He desperately wanted to tell you so you could talk some sense into Matt, get him off the streets every night, but he couldn’t betray Matt’s trust like that. Even as much as he wanted to. He’d tell Matt as much, but things were already tense between them as they were.

Shaking his thoughts aside, Matt stepped gently onto your fire escape. He first noticed the cool air seeping out the window to your apartment. How many times would he have to remind you to lock it? He made three quick raps against the pane, alerting you to his presence. He waited for you to answer, but you never showed. He turned his attention away from the city and directed it to the inside of your apartment. But…he couldn’t hear you.

He could hear the loud thumping of the heartbeat of your upstairs neighbor and the quieter beats of her two cats but not you. He slid your window open wider and slipped into the space of your kitchen. The air was still. You hadn’t been here in a few hours. Dread pooled deep in his stomach.

Matt pulled his phone out of his pocket. Normally, he left it behind, but part of him hoped you would end your silent treatment one of these nights. Whatever the reason, he was thankful he had it. He just had to assure himself that you were okay—perhaps you’d gone to the store or out to a movie with a friend. He quickly dialed your number, paling when he heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. He hung up. Foggy’s number was next.

“Matt?” Foggy asked groggily, disoriented from waking up and confused that Matt was actually calling him.

“Have you heard from Y/N?” Matt asked quickly.

“No. Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just…stopped by her apartment and she’s not here. She’s not answering her phone.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably at a friend’s place. Asleep. Like we should be.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Matt ended the call, nearly throwing the phone across the room in frustration. Something wasn’t right about this. He paced across your apartment, freezing when he caught the scent of…cologne? His heart dropped a little. Maybe you found somebody to replace—

His mind made the connection. That was the same cologne as one of the crime bosses he’d been following.

This time, he did throw his phone across the room.

You realized at some point you’d gone unconscious. You awoke to a throbbing in your skull and sharp pains across your abdomen. You couldn’t feel the rest of your body, but you generally felt like you had been hit by a truck. The taste of blood was heavy on your tongue. You pried your eyes open, but everything was blurry. Was one of your eyes swollen shut or just could you not see from the pain in your head? You pried your eyes open further and winced. Swollen. Your eye was definitely swollen.

You couldn’t catalogue any other specific injuries. All the pain swelled together, indistinguishable from one another. You thought maybe a finger was broken, but you couldn’t tell for sure. It definitely hurt every time you tried to flex your hand, though. You also realized deep breaths were something to steer clear from.

Your captor noticed your movements and stepped into your field of vision, leaning against the table in front of you. “Back, are we?” he asked. He casually bumped your knee with his, almost affectionately. You hissed from the pain the movement caused.

“Didn’t…didn’t think I could leave,” you wheezed. You’d certainly begged for it earlier. But your kidnapper made it clear the Devil arriving would be your only hope. Your kidnapper…you really needed to give him a name.

“Not yet.” Your captor—Zane. Yeah, let’s call him Zane—picked up a knife from behind him and twirled it in the air. You tensed, waiting for the pain to come, but he just continued to stare at you.

“Okay, listen,” you begged. “I’m weak. I’m weak, I know I am. I’m weak to torture. If I knew anything, it’d have spilled already. You’re good—you’re good at what you do, but I don’t have anything—”

“Flattery gets you nowhere. Besides, that isn’t even the goal anymore.” A glint from the knife was your only warning before it was embedded in your thigh. You screamed, begging, pleading, that your hero would find you.

Your bloodcurdling scream sent ice down Matt’s spine.

He had been poised outside the warehouse, waiting, listening, trying to find the best course of action to rescue you. But that sound had him throwing caution to the wind. He dove through the nearest window.

Three men were in this hallway. Matt dodged a bullet one of the men fired before ripping the gun out of his hands. A solid strike from the butt of the gun rendered the man unconscious and Matt turned to face the other two. His mind turned to autopilot as he incapacitated his enemies. Every move was instinctual, every hit uncaring.

At last, he found where you were being held in the center of the building. He tensed as he stepped into the room, hands raising in a sign of no harm. You were being held at gunpoint. Every step he took pressed the gun tighter into your temple, so he froze, thirty feet away from you.

Tears were streaming down your face. You knew a gun was being held to your head, but you weren’t conscious of much more than that and the knife still hilt-deep in your leg. Ringing in your ears drowned out all other sound. You weren’t sure how the Daredevil made it across the room or took down Zane, but you instinctively reacted when hands pressed down on your shoulders.

“No, please, stop!” you begged. “I don’t know who he is, I swear.”

Slowly, your senses came back to you. “Hey, it’s me. Calm down,” you heard. Your eyes fluttered open. The masked man blearily came into focus. You wished you knew what he looked like. He’d probably have such gorgeous eyes… “Y/N, hey.” A hand tapped the side of your face. “I need you to stay awake, okay? I’m gonna get you some help.”

“My eyes closed?” you mumbled. You were trying to stay awake, but your eyes had plans of their own.

“Yeah, they did.” He knelt down to untie the rope around your wrists and ankles. Once free, he tucked an arm under your knees and behind your low back. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” On a count of three, he lifted you into his arms and you were out like a light.

 You groaned some time later as you were laid gently on what you thought to be a couch. You couldn’t tell where you were—higher thinking was on the backburner currently. The pain quickly erased any thought that came into your mind. You fought to open your eyes, though. You had to know if you were safe.

You were in a small apartment, on a living room couch like you originally thought. An expansive first aid kit was spread on the coffee table next to you. Several of the tools were bloodied; several packages were ripped open. You raised your eyes higher to find a woman and a man having a heated discussion. The man you knew—it was the Daredevil. You could tell even though his back was turned. The woman, though…you weren’t sure her identity. She wore blue, bloodied gloves and the ears of a stethoscope were around her neck. You caught the last of her argument.

“She needs a hospital, Matt. Only surgeons are qualified to remove impaled objects. And I, as good as I am at stitching you up, am not a surgeon.”

You thought hard to make sense of the words. Who needed a hospital? And wait… “Matt?” you croaked. She said Matt? Daredevil instinctively turned at the sound of your voice and you gasped at what you saw. His mask had been removed. You met the eyes of your best friend. Matt Murdock. “What? It’s you?” Matt sighed and ran a hand over his face. Fuck. This was everything he was trying to avoid. “This was why you had those bruises?” He nodded. “Foggy knows?” He nodded again. This was too much for you to wrap your head around.

Matt knelt by your head and took one of your hands in his. “I���m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. This is why I couldn’t tell you, why we couldn’t be together. I knew someone was going to use you to get to me. It’s all my fault—”

You stopped his tirade with a whisper of his name. “Matt, it’s not your fault.” You reached up to wipe a smear of blood off his cheek. You weren’t even sure who it belonged to—you, him, or one of your kidnappers. “It’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later. Right now I’m in a lot of pain and getting a lot of blood on a stranger’s couch. I need to know what the plan is.”

Matt turned to the woman and then sighed. “This is my friend Claire. She’s a nurse at Metro General. She’s going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Matt moved to stand, but you gripped his arm. “You’re not going?”

“I’ll meet you there as soon as I can. I have to change clothes first. I can’t show up looking like this.” He gestured broadly to his bloodied suit. Your grip tightened. You didn’t want him to leave you. “I trust Claire with my life. She’s safe.”

You slowly loosened your grip. “Be fast,” you whispered. Matt nodded.

He and Claire loaded you into the passenger seat of her car. Matt pressed a kiss into your temple before closing the door behind you. Soon, the car was moving and you bared your teeth through the pain each turn and bump caused. Claire was a constant stream of “sorry.” You fought with everything you had to stay awake, but with the adrenaline gone, you felt every injury at full volume. But one ginormous pothole was all it took for your strength to shatter.

You groaned as you came to. Your eyes fluttered against the bright lights, but once they adjusted, you found you were in a hospital room. “I want to stop waking up in random places,” you whined. This was the third strange place you had woken up in since…however long it was since you were last at your apartment. A calendar on the wall said it was Sunday. So, two days.

Matt startled awake at the sound of your voice. You glanced over at him. He’d been trying to sleep in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, worse than usual. Had he been here this whole time? “You look like shit, Matt,” you said.

“Y/N, I—” he started, but you cut him off.

“You don’t have to apologize. I understand now, I do.” Matt slid his chair across the floor until he was right by your side. You reached down to take his hand.

“But if I—”

“There’s a million things both of us could have done differently to not end up right where we are. The blame’s not all on you, Matt.”

He was silent for a few moments. He pressed the back of your hand against his lips as he thought. “How are you not mad at me?” he eventually asked.

“They got me on the good drugs right now, I think. But once they release me…ooh, you’re in for it.” You squeezed his hand, smiling.

“Yeah?” He returned your smile.

“Yeah.” You sat quietly for a few moments, your heart monitor filling in the easy silence. “So are you really blind? Or is that something to throw off people from finding out your secret identity?”

“You think I’ve had an alter ego since I was ten?” he laughed.

“You never know,” you shrugged. You burrowed deeper into your pillows. “I think I’m going to take a nap now. Will you stay?”

“Always.”

You were nearly asleep when you had to murmur one last thought. “I love you, Matt.”

“I love you too.”

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock/reader #repost #kayla rambles #mine

[seanfalco]

Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part II}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2k Warnings: Catholicism, Religious imagery, Angst, Infidelity  (I’m also not Catholic, so hopefully I haven’t made any glaring errors.)

masterlist

He thought it would get easier as the weeks wore on, but Kay grimaced as he stepped behind the pulpit to face the congregation, his gaze instantly seeking out [y/n], her fiance’s arm resting across her shoulders, and he had to admit to himself that it was quite the opposite -- it was only getting harder to see her with him.   To keep his thoughts pure.

Their first lesson together had been… awkward to say the least, but by the second one they’d almost fallen back into the easy friendship of their teen days, which was both a relief and a worry to Kay.

If they kept getting more comfortable around each other, who knew what would happen then?

It was already going to be hard enough for him to watch her marry someone else when not so long ago that was what he’d wanted.  Growing close to her again would only make it that much harder.

When he’d broken up with her and left for seminary school like his father had wanted he thought he’d never see her again -- that even though it wasn’t what he’d wanted, that time would heal all wounds and that throwing himself into his studies would distract him enough to forget his feelings for her, and for a time it had, but it didn’t last.

He still sometimes woke in a cold sweat, their breakup haunting his dreams, the hurt look on her face as he’d turned away wrenching at his heart.  

They’d been so young and it had all happened so fast, their feelings too great, too overwhelming, too soon.

And he’d ran.

Only to find regret waiting for him, but by then it was too late and now… now he’d have to live with that regret.

He’d never have [y/n], and he’d never be a good priest.  How could he give all of himself to God if someone else still held his heart?

——

“So, how was your week?” Kay asked, hanging up his robe as [y/n] took her usual seat across from his desk, the little notebook she’d been scribbling notes in during their lessons resting in her lap.

He knew that she’d never been religious before, not outright atheist, but definitely agnostic.  However, during their lessons she was attentive and diligent -- always asking questions and taking notes.  He just wasn’t sure how much of that was from a true willingness to learn or merely out of respect for him.

“It wasn’t bad,” she answered with a small shrug.  “Nothing much happened.  This is honestly the highlight of my week,” she admitted, her eyes flicking up to his meaningfully.

Somehow Kay doubted it was because of church, but he’d be lying if he said that this wasn’t the highlight of his week as well…

“I’m glad our lessons mean that much to you,” he murmured, fighting the urge to loosen his collar.  “Uhm, before we get started,” he continued quickly, forcing his hands to still in front of him on his desk.  He’d definitely caught [y/n]’s little smirk at his words, and was trying to ignore it.  

“Why don’t you tell me a little about Matthew.  How you two met,” Kay suggested, trying to keep his voice neutral, but [y/n] looked up at him sharply, suspicion in her calculating gaze.

It was purely in his interest as their Reverend, he told himself.  He wasn’t asking for any other reason.

Frowning for a moment, [y/n] cleared her throat.  “We met through our parents,” she explained slowly, her expression not exactly what one would expect a newly engaged woman to wear as she spoke of her betrothed, and Kay’s heart constricted.

She doesn’t look happy, he observed as she told him how their parents had thought it would be a good match.

Don’t be ridiculous, Kay told himself firmly, ignoring that first thought.  That’s just wishful thinking because part of you doesn't want her to get married, to lay with anyone else, to look at them with love in her eyes, when it should be you.

Shaking loose his thoughts, Kay realized he’d missed much of what she’d said, but what he had caught hadn’t exactly sounded romantic, and he fought against losing himself once more to memories of their time together before it had all come crashing down.

Of late night phone calls that neither wanted to end, leading to Kay listening to [y/n] sleep over the phone, wishing she were next to him instead of her own bed.  Of handwritten love letters passed discreetly through lockers and left in textbooks, clandestine make out sessions during cut classes, and holding hands as he walked her home every day.  Of their awkward, if sweet, first time that had led to a second time shortly after, full of laughter and affirmations of love.

Did she love Matthew like she’d loved him?

“Kay…?”

“Hmm, I’m sorry, I lost my thoughts for a moment there,” he admitted sheepishly, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious where his thoughts had slipped to.

“That’s alright, it’s not exactly the most riveting story,” [y/n] murmured with a wry twist of her lips.  “Let’s, uhm, let’s get on with the lesson, shall we?” she asked and Kay was only too relieved to agree, not exactly keen to dwell any more on the topic of [y/n]’s fiance.

——

In order to speed things along to keep on schedule for your swiftly approaching wedding, Kay had suggested meeting twice a week for your lessons, and you’d only been all too happy to agree.

However, it was getting harder and harder to keep him off your mind, finding yourself thinking of him during every spare moment, even on the rare occasions Matthew wanted to have sex.  The night before, you’d nearly cried out the wrong name, Kay’s name practically springing to your lips, and disappointment twisted like a knife when you’d opened your eyes to find it wasn’t him hovering over you.

So it was to your great dismay that today’s lesson was about confession.

“We went over all this in principle last time, but this time we’ll do a practice run,” Kay was saying as he led you down to the sanctuary, blessedly empty save for the two of you.  Stopping in front of the confessional, your stomach in your throat, you hesitated, Kay noticing your reluctance.

“Are you nervous, [y/n]?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” you murmured, your nerves at an all time high.

“I promise it’s not as daunting as it seems,” Kay murmured, resting his hand on the small of your back, ushering you toward the door, a reassuring smile on his face.

As you took your seat atop the hard wooden bench inside you fidgeted as you waited for Kay to join you on the other side of the latticed partition.

This would be so much easier if you didn’t know the priest.

“Okay, [y/n],” Kay said as he took his seat, his voice soothing.  “Remember, the Sacrament of Confession is between you, me, and God.  I cannot disclose anything you tell me in here, to anyone,” he reminded you and you nodded, though it didn’t exactly make you feel any better.  He would still know about it.

“Alright my child, you may begin,” Kay prompted and you bit your lip, taking a steadying breath.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began, reciting the words he’d taught you.  “I uhm, I’ve sinned, well… a lot, and uhh, recently, in fact,” you muttered, looking down at your hands.  

With the partition between you, you couldn’t really see Kay, just his outline, but you could feel his gaze on you.

“Well, I’ve… masterbated… and I use birth control regularly, which is a big no-no, I guess,” you said, giving a nervous laugh before continuing.   “I’ve had premarital sex, which… I mean, you know about that,” you added, clearing your throat, reluctant to admit more.

“Go on, you’re doing well,” Kay urged gently and you nodded, continuing.

“I… I’ve coveted, and lied, I’ve taken the Lord’s name in vain and I’ve…” your voice faltered and failed.  “I’ve--” you tried again, taking another breath and swallowing, your throat suddenly very dry.

“I’ve had thoughts of an impure nature about someone other than my fiance,” you admitted.  “--About someone I should not be.  Someone I thought I’d never see again.”

Pausing, it was obvious who you meant, and your eyes flicked up to the partition where you felt Kay’s were and you wondered just what sort of expression he was wearing.

“And now that I have… seen him again, I can’t seem to get him off my mind,” you murmured.

For a long moment silence stretched and you wished you could take it all back.

“[y/n].” Kay’s voice wavered before strengthening.  “That is… highly inappropriate,” he said hesitantly, his words like a slap to the face, though you knew he was right.

“Don’t you think I know that?” you exclaimed.  “I’ve tried to stop, believe me!  But I fucking can’t and I--I don’t know if I want to,” you cried, frantically blinking back tears, your stomach churning.  “I miss you, Kay, and every moment we’re together feels like torture.  I… I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

“[y/n]--”

Before he could say more, you pushed off the bench and threw open the door, suddenly feeling lightheaded and needing air, Kay right on your heels.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about me too,” you exclaimed, turning to him, frustration and anger lacing your words.  Kay watched you with an unreadable expression.  “I’ve seen it in your eyes, Kay.  You always had the worst poker face.  Don’t tell me there’s nothing there,”you insisted, almost pleading and he looked away, blinking rapidly.

“[y/n], don’t…” he said, unable to quite look at you.  “You know we can’t happen.”

“You didn’t answer me,” you pressed, taking a step toward him, desperation filling your voice now, your stomach twisting til you felt you were going to be sick.  

“It… it doesn’t matter,” Kay replied sadly, shaking his head.  “I’m a man of the cloth now.  I’m committed to the Church and you -- you’re engaged to be married, [y/n]!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking as he lifted his arms only to let them fall helplessly to his sides again, his hands curling into fists.

“What we had was a long time ago.  We’ve both moved on, and I won’t be the one to break up your marriage.  I don’t want to be the reason,” he insisted, though it looked like it pained him to say it.

“Yeah well, I never wanted this!” you cried, your voice clearly shaking now and you couldn’t keep the tears from your eyes any longer, feeling them fall down your cheeks.  “You were the one that pushed me away and then… then you ran away where I couldn’t follow!”

Taking a shaky breath, you scrubbed at the dampness streaking your face.  “You want my confession, Father?  I still have feelings for you, they never went away,” you admitted, breathing heavily, your chest constricting with panic.

When Kay didn’t speak, his emerald eyes pained, you continued, grasping at straws.

“Is this truly what you want?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“It is,” he said softly, carefully not meeting your gaze.  “Even if I… harboured feelings for you, I cannot act on them, so please don’t put me in that position, [y/n].”

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes rising to yours once more, he shook his head sadly, his long curls shivering.

“Besides, you don’t want me,” he murmured.  “I can’t give you the life you deserve.”

Deafening silence filled the church and you stood there in disbelief.

If only you’d kept your mouth shut, you thought angrily -- angry at yourself, because you knew, you knew deep down you couldn’t have just kept going that way, lying to yourself, to him.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to lift your chin.

“You’re wrong.”

When you turned, Kay took a panicked step toward you, reaching out before you pulled away.

“Where are you going?  [y/n]?” he called after you, but you didn’t stop, heading for the doors.

“I’m sorry, Kay.  I can’t do this.”

Without another word you yanked open the handle and slipped out of the church before he could convince you to stay.

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

Everything Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle​​ @midnightseance​​ @etherealsxnder​​ @iamsexytrash​​ @orions-nebula​​ @slutforrobbiebro​​ @the-freckled-luba​​ @robertsscumbag​​

#season of the witch #kay #kay x reader #priest!kay #priest!kay x reader #robert sheehan character fic #my writing #fic: want #priest kink tw #catholicism tw #infidelity tw

[godlikewrath]

The Unsolved Murder of the Grimes Sisters

Like thousands of teenage girls in those days, the Grimes Sisters could not get enough of Elvis Presley. They had seen his latest movie, Love Me Tender, 14 times. On December 17, 1956 they headed to Chicago’s Brighton Theater see it again.

Barbara was 15; Patricia was 13. They left the house at 7:30 p.m. Their mother Loretta Grimes expected the girls might stay for the double feature. But when midnight arrived and her girls hadn’t come home, she got worried. Two of the older Grimes siblings headed to the bus stop to wait for their sisters. By 2:00 a.m. it was clear something had happened.

A search was quickly assembled. Dorothy Weinert, a friend of Patricia’s, had also been in the theater and sat behind the sisters. Though Dorothy left after the first film, she mentioned having seen Barbara and Patricia at the concession stand, seemingly in good spirits.

One of the largest city-wide hunts in Chicago history followed. Police officers and regular civilians combed the streets looking for the sisters. Adjacent towns and counties got involved and offered their resources to the cause. But as the days passed, the search stalled and law enforcement grew desperate to solve the case.

Then, random sightings of the missing sisters flooded media outlets. People from all walks of life claimed to have seen the girls in one state or another, from as far away as Nashville, Tennessee. This led some to believe that Barbara and Patricia had orchestrated their own disappearance and gone to Nashville to meet Elvis. This theory picked up more steam than expected, and Elvis himself took to the radio to publicly address the girls, pleading with them to return home.

Police had no other leads and could only surmise that the sisters had run away. Loretta Grimes vehemently rejected the idea, maintaining that her girls would never do such a thing, and that they certainly would not have left behind the brand new AM radio they received for Christmas.

After an exhausting month of loose threads and dead ends, the search stalled out.

Then, on January 22, 1957, a man named Leonard Prescott spotted what he thought were two mannequins on German Church Road in Willow Springs, Illinois. He did not approach them, but instead ran home to get his wife. Together, the Prescotts inched closer and found the naked bodies of Barbara and Patricia Grimes, positioned awkwardly, with Barbara lying face down and Patricia lying face up on top of her sister. Their faces had been damaged by neighborhood animals.

At 1:30pm, the Willow Springs Police Department learned of the discovery. They immediately deduced that the sisters had probably been on the side of the road since the snowfall two weeks prior.

Flurries of suspects were apprehended, the most publicized of which was Edward Lee Bedwell. He confessed to the murders, though there was never any evidence supporting his claim, and he later recanted it. An autopsy on the girls, which could not be performed until they were thawed, revealed that the last meal they’d eaten was their dinner before leaving for the movie theater. Such findings proved that the Grimes sisters were killed within hours of going missing. Though the official cause of death was listed as “murder,” the only explanation offered was “secondary shock due to exposure to the elements.”

The funeral was held on January 28, 1957 at St. Maurice Church. Loretta Grimes was inconsolable. The girls were in white closed caskets, each topped with their respective photograph. They were laid to rest at Holy Sepulchre Catholic Cemetery.

Later in life, Loretta volunteered at a nearby prison and secured a promise from the police that they would never stop looking for her daughters’ killer. In 1989 at the age of 83, Loretta died without ever getting an answer.

Though the disappearance and murder of the Grimes sisters went cold many years ago, author and former criminal investigator Ray Johnson may have cracked it open. Johnson claims that a similar incident—the murder of Bonnie Leigh Scott—took place in Addison, Illinois about a year after the Grimes case. Bonnie Leigh Scott was killed at the age of 15 and eventually discovered naked.

The man responsible for that crime supposedly made a phone call to Loretta Grimes and bragged about getting away with the murders of both Scott and the Grimes sisters. Johnson asserts that information about this phone call went unpublished by the media back in the 1950s, and also that non-lethal marks on the Grimes sisters’ bodies (around the abdomen) were very similar to marks found on the body of Scott. Lastly, Johnson claims to have spoken to a third girl who was abducted with the Grimes sisters but escaped. She was 14 years old at the time and did not come forward out of fear.

Charles Leroy Melquist was convicted for the murder of Bonnie Leigh Scott and sentenced to 99 years in prison. He served 11 years of his sentence before his release, and later married and had two children. Melquist was never officially implicated in the Grimes killings.

The case of the Grimes sisters remains unsolved. However, a Facebook group administrated by Johnson, called “Help Solve Chicago’s Grimes Sisters’ Murder” today has around 1.9k members.

#grimes sisters #true crime #unsolved #murder #elvis presley #tcc #cold case

[ieatmypizzawithaforkandknife]

MAG 019 - Confession (part 1)

Summary: Jonathan reads the first half of the statement of Father Edwin Burroughs, regarding “his claimed demonic possession.”

Our first two-parter! Not that I realized that when I listened to the episode the first time, despite it being right there in the title, because I have the observational skills of a blind muskrat...but I’m excited because I know there will be more multi-parters in the future. I like the episodic format right now, but I know that as Things Begin To Happen, I’ll appreciate the increased breadth and depth of longer stories.

89 Bullingdon Rd is the third street address featured in the series so far, the other two being 93 Lancaster Rd in episode 5 and 105 Hill Top Rd in episode 8. Unlike the first two, however, this one actually exists - kind of. According to google maps, the house numbers on Lancaster Rd in Walthamstow run from about 1 to 85, and the numbers on Hill Top Rd in Cowley run from about 1 to 75. But 89 is right in the middle of the range of house numbers on Bullingdon Rd in Cowley, and while google maps says there’s an 89A but not an 89...it’s close enough. On one hand it’s super cool that these locations are relatively real (the towns are real, the streets are real, it’s just the exact buildings that aren’t). On the other hand 89A is a little too close to 89, and I wish Jonny had picked a number completely outside the range of addresses like he did with the first two, just to avoid crazy fans descending on real people’s houses.

It is definitely worth noting the proximity of 89 Bullingdon Rd to 105 Hill Top Rd. They’re only about half a mile (or about a kilometer, since this is in the UK after all) away from each other as the crow flies. And for both of them, the location itself seems to be tied to the paranormal happenings of the episode(s) they’re featured in. In episode 8, Ivo Lensik feels that unnatural burning start when he’s alone inside 105 Hill Top Rd, which stops as soon as Father Burroughs arrives. In this episode, Father Burroughs feels that same unnatural burning start when he’s alone inside 105 Hill Top Rd, and it only stops when Ivo uproots the tree. And in this episode, Bethany claims her problems are being caused by the Bullingdon Rd house itself, though she doesn’t explain what made her think that. But it’s very concerning that she can’t seem to see the only creepy thing about the house that we’re aware of: the old Latin word written in faded blue paint on the exposed wall.

The word “mentis” is Latin alright, but Father Burroughs translates it as “mind” which...isn’t quite right. “Mentis” doesn’t strictly mean “mind”, it means “of the mind”. The endings of Latin nouns change based on how they’re used in a sentence, so if you’re talking about the word “mind” as the subject of a sentence (or as the word in general) it is “mens”. “Mentis” is specifically the possessive form of the word. I don’t know whether this was deliberate or accidental on Jonny’s part, since if you look it up the dictionary entry shows “mens, mentis”. (It’s standard practice to include both the “subject” form and the “possessive” form in the dictionary since they’re different.) It makes me wonder if this word was part of a phrase and if there were other words hidden under the wallpaper. (Also, small shout-out to anyone reading this who is also a Latin geek, and I hope I explained it well enough that the non-Latin-geeks also understand that explanation.)

On the subject of language, this isn’t the first time Latin has appeared in connection with the paranormal. Ex Altiora, the Leitner found in episode 4, was written entirely in Latin (including the title), and the Lord’s Prayer was written in Latin on that long strip of singed paper found in the second trash bag in episode 5. It’s interesting that the same constellation of details from the trash bag incident are also in this episode: Latin, Christianity, and burning.

Latin isn’t even the only dead language to make an appearance this episode. When describing his experiences performing exorcisms at the beginning of the episode, Father Burroughs recounts: “I was once cursed at in Sumerian by a young man who was illiterate.” In episode 12, the phrase muttered by the hospitalized man that seemed to summon the “lightless flame” contained the word “Asag”, which is the name of a Sumerian demon that could boil fish alive in their rivers. Father Burroughs doesn’t appear in episode 12, but if he had been at that hospital, I think he would have pegged that guy as possessed and wanted to have an exorcism performed. So is there a connection between Sumerian and possession and burning? And how do all the different dead languages that have appeared so far (Latin, Sumerian, and Sanskrit) fit together?

I am also very interested in that nurse, Anna/Annie/Anne Kasuma/Willett. (Seriously, how many names does one person need?) For my purposes, I’m going to call her “Annie” because she seems to go by that. In this episode’s statement (made in 2011), Father Burroughs gives her surname as Willett, and in Jonathan’s wrap-up at the end of episode 8 (which he recorded in late 2015 or early 2016), Jonathan gives her surname as Kasuma. As an older, fairly conservative Catholic (she was a member of the congregation at Father Burroughs’ church, fully believed in demonic possession, etc.), it is highly unlikely that she changed her name for any reason other than marriage or divorce. Ivo Lensik described her as “Malaysian”, and Kasuma is an Indonesian name, whereas Willett is found overwhelmingly in predominantly white countries (the U.S., England, Australia, and Canada are at the top of the list of countries where the name is found). So it would make the most sense to me if Kasuma were her maiden name and Willett a married name. BUT when Jonathan mentions her in the wrap-up to episode 8, he calls her “Mrs. Kasuma”. Since everything else fits with the idea that Kasuma is her maiden name and Willett her married name, I’m thinking Jonathan just messed up the honorific, since he also referred to “Miss Popham” at the end of episode 15 when “Popham” was very clearly Laura’s married name. (This overly detailed surname analysis brought to you in part by my ongoing obsession with genealogy. If anyone reading this has anything resembling a passing interest in the subject, feel free to hit me up about it. I will gush.) All of that nitty-gritty was not without purpose: I think she’s important somehow. I could be reading too much into things, but why would Jonny give her a name change if it weren’t somehow important? Even I realized the nurse from episode 8 and the nurse from episode 19 were the same person on my first listen-through, when I missed or forgot 90% of the details in any given episode, so I don’t think he was trying to trip us up. And she has a direct connection to 105 Hill Top Rd: she grew up on that street, and had a lot of information on the property’s history dating back to before she was born, possibly indicating her family lived on that street even longer. But we haven’t met anyone else with either surname, so for now that’s where it stands: possibly a lead, muddled with a probable mistake.

I was so glad when Father Burroughs made the differentiation in this episode between perception and will: “Bethany told me that her will was still her own, but she could no longer trust her senses, and had found herself doing much that she did not understand.” She tried to eat a small slab of slate, and she apparently couldn’t perceive the word “Mentis” that was literally written on a wall. This might be the first time that the author of the statement calls attention to the recurring theme I’ve been calling “altered reality”. This “altered reality” is a heavy presence in the second part of this two-parter, but I’ll wait to talk about that in that episode’s post. Coupled with this “altered reality” is the “eating of something you really shouldn’t be eating”. In this episode, it’s Bethany trying to eat a slab of slate before being abruptly pulled back to reality by Father Burroughs, only then realizing what it was. Hinted at in this episode, and shown in more detail in the next one (minor spoiler, I guess?), is Father Burroughs eating human flesh and only realizing what it was when the police arrived. The only other time I remember these two themes working in tandem is in episode 3 when Graham Folger ate a notebook. No one stopped him or made him realize what he was doing, so we don’t know for sure that his reality was altered, but it makes the most sense to me that he, like Bethany and Father Burroughs, truly didn’t realize what he was doing. I’m not convinced that the events of this episode (and the next one) are actually related to the notebook incident in episode 3, but it’s an interesting parallel.

On a completely unrelated note, I’d like to talk a bit about Father Burroughs’ “possession” itself. First off, I get that Bethany saying “I’m so sorry...it wants your faith” was supposed to be an ominous line, but why is that the only thing she said throughout the entire attempted exorcism at the hospital? She couldn’t even say, “Hey, man, this isn’t working”? All she could do was look at him with pity and say that? I’d be OK with those being her only words if whatever was “possessing” her also affected her speech the way it did to Father Burroughs later...but she specifically established that she was free to speak and act as she wished, it was only at certain times that her perception of reality was altered. So I’m a little annoyed at her for not giving Father Burroughs (or us) any kind of useful warning or helpful information during the failed exorcism.

I was really confused by the apparent theft of the sacramental wine, too. What was the significance of that? Was it just an example of something weird Father Burroughs noticed that keyed him in to the fact that All Was Not Well, or was there something more to it? (This is only a semi-rhetorical question - if the answer to this was said outright or implied in this episode and it isn’t a post-S1 spoiler, please do fill me in. I sometimes miss stuff that’s super obvious to other people.)

I also find it interesting that he can say “God” towards the end of this episode. He stumbled over it, but by contrast he was completely unable to say “Lord” and “Jesus” at the very beginning. Not sure if this is significant, since there’s no real difference between the words “Lord” and “God” in my estimation. Jesus is specifically Christian, and while “Lord” tends to be associated with Christianity, it’s not exclusive. “God” is the most general of the three terms, yes, but in context he is very obviously referring to the Christian “God”, so his difficulty with getting certain words out isn’t based solely on their contextual meaning. Jonny could have written it without him getting out the word “God” at the end and I think most people listening would have understood that’s the word he was going for. It’s either some kind of clue, or Jonny just got sick of stuttering.

Father Burroughs’ call for protection is the point at which he knows something is Very, Very Wrong, as he feels his lips move even though he himself isn’t moving them. But, as with so many of these stories, Things Were Bad Long Before You Realized It. Bethany told him “it wants your faith” years before the Hill Top Rd incident. He himself admits that his pride led to his downfall, since he initiated an exorcism/blessing on Hill Top Rd when he wasn’t supposed to be doing them at all. But it wasn’t just his pride - it was something taking advantage of his pride. I think that, as much as any person can be, Father Burroughs was a victim of whatever possessed him. He made mistakes in his life - his sins, if you’re looking at it religiously, as he did - but he never wanted to be evil or commit crimes like cannibalism. Like the characters in so many of these stories, I don’t think he deserved what he got, and I mostly just feel bad for him.

His call for protection, he says, was answered by something that was not God, and when Jonathan reads the words that Father Burroughs’ lips were forming (“I am not for you. I am marked.”) we once again hear that creepy static or interference. And I still can’t decide if this is supposed to be some kind of clue or if it’s just to make things creepier. It feels like a clue, but I can’t figure out what exactly it’s supposed to mean. Most of the times I’ve noted it appearing (probably not a complete list - I’m working on it) it appears during a specific quoted phrase or instance of someone speaking: “Can I have a cigarette?” in episode 1. “Isn’t it funny, Amy, how you can live so near and never notice. I’ll need to return the visit someday” from not-Graham in episode 3. “Some hungers are too strong to be denied” from Angela in episode 14. Laura’s sister Elena asking her “how lost I was, in a low, grating voice” in episode 15. If the examples were limited to things like this, then I’d say that it occurs whenever some as-yet-undetermined otherworldly monster is given a human voice to speak through. But it also occurs the first time Ex Altiora is said in episode 4 and the first time The Boneturner’s Tale is said in episode 17, as well as two different moments during the recounting of the story inside TBT. So how is it connected to the Leitners? It didn’t occur when Jonathan read the title Key of Solomon in episode 4, which is implied to be a Leitner. And there’ve been a few other occurrences where something obviously supernatural is happening but that doesn’t involve speech or quoted words at all: When Laura describes the light changing from appearing like an approaching candle to sunlight (which it still wasn’t...) in episode 15, and when Jonathan reads the description of the bleeding books in episode 17 (”red dripped and pulsed from the cart”).

I don’t know what to make of the creepy static yet. But my specific concern with the most recent instance, when Father Burroughs “said” “I am not for you. I am marked” is: Who are the “I” and the “you” referring to? Is the “I” supposed to be Father Burroughs, or the thing “possessing” him? And who on earth is the “you”?

This post is part of a series where I write my thoughts about each episode and obsessively connect dots in an effort to figure out The Big Mysteries of the series. All posts in this series are tagged “is this liveblogging?” Comments and messages are welcome but I have only listened to season 1, so I ask that you not spoil me for anything beyond episode 40. In the words of Jonny Sims…thanks for listening!

#personal #liveblogging #is this liveblogging? #The Magnus Archives #guys this took me so long to write because I CANNOT BE SUCCINCT #nor can I leave anything out because IT'S ALL SO INTERESTING #I am so sorry

[craziigamerchick]

Tommy x Grace - Tommy x Lizzie Anti-Parallels

I wanted to make a breakdown post about how both relationships have the same things happen (baby, marriage, May, working for Tommy) but have totally different outcomes. This is really long. Just warning you.

lets start with season 1:

The church confession vs sidewalk pickup

Similarities

He sets them both up for failure. “You’re a good catholic girl aren’t ya?” and “That’s 8 bloody pounds.”

Offers them a job. Grace - book keeper and Lizzie - prostitute (she’s supposed to have quit). They both accept.

They both get upset when they realize he is calling them out. “you pull a pint like someone who’s thinking about it” “John will make his own decision but he will have all the facts”

The face caress. This actually what made me realize how similar these scenes were.

Differences

He takes Grace from the street to a church while with Lizzie he just stays on the street.

He’s happy Grace accepted the offer but upset Lizzie did.

When Grace gets upset and goes to leave he stops her but with Lizzie he lets her go.

Him and Grace kiss after the face caress where Lizzie slaps his hand away.

In the scene with Lizzie he constantly has the upper hand but with Grace, she knocks him off balance a bit “and perhaps mine”.

END RESULT: GRACE - Tommy leaves first and both are feeling pretty good. LIZZIE - Lizzie leaves first and both are upset

season 2:

Sex scene with Lizzie vs sex scene with Grace

Similarities

SEX. I think this is the only similarity but I could be missing something.

Differences

L&T are almost fully clothed where G&T are naked 

L&T have groaning. G&T there is only music.

Lizzie does most the talking afterwards in their scene. Tommy does most of the talking with Grace.

Tommy leaves Lizzie right after and stays the night with Grace

The lighting is more warm with L&T and more cool with G&T

Pays Lizzie money and not Grace.

END RESULT: GRACE - he stays the night with her  LIZZIE - he leaves right away

First scene after both women have accepted the job

Similarities

Tommy wants a letter delivered

Differences

Tommy tells Lizzie the information of the letter and she is actually the one that writes it. With Grace he doesn’t let her in on the details of the letter he wants her to deliver.

Grace is brought up in the scene with Lizzie (her letter from NY). Lizzie is not in G&T scene.

Tommy and Lizzie are together when scene ends. Tommy leaves during scene with Grace.

Grace asks questions. Lizzie none, just relays information.

Lizzie seems to be awed by who the letter is to (churchill) and Grace comes off as suspicious of him having her deliver a letter to his sister.

Grace over steps her bounds with the champagne and Lizzie does everything pretty much perfectly

END RESULT: GRACE - Tommy leaves and Grace is upset with him. LIZZIE - Tommy stays and him and Lizzie are in good spirits with each other

Using Lizzie at the end of s2 vs using Grace with Kimber (both are at the races)

Similarities

Tommy uses both women. Grace to close the deal with Kimber and Lizzie to get Russel alone.

He instructs them about their apparel. Lizzie to undo 2 buttons. Grace to wear a red dress.

Neither lady is too pleased with him and both let him know it.

Differences

Tommy makes it in time to save Grace from getting raped but not Lizzie

He never planned on saving Grace but did where as he planned on getting to Lizzie on time but didn’t

Once he seen what Kimber was doing to Grace he rushed in but when you could clearly hear what was going down with Lizzie and Russel, he kept at the same pace till he made it to them (wtf though. this will never fail to piss me off. like you can clearly hear Lizzie in pain and he can’t even run to her)

There was dancing and flirting with Grace but none of that with Lizzie. Lizzie tried to convey her feelings to Tommy but he wasn’t even paying attention.

Grace kept her voice a whisper when told what to do even when pissed. Lizzie raised her voice and even threatened Tommy.

Tommy kills Russel but not Billy Kimber (not then)

He tried to comfort Lizzie (she ain’t having it) but not Grace

Tommy made it to Grace because he came early where with Lizzie he would have made it in time even though he had to go around if he wouldn’t have went to Campbell to just to gloat about Grace’s feelings for him. 

He put his plan in jeopardy to save Grace and put Lizzie in jeopardy to gloat to his enemy.

MY THOUGHTS: There has to be way more that I’m missing but these aren’t just one scene each and there is so many layers behind all of the scenes.

END RESULT: GRACE - Doesn’t get raped and leaves with Tommy. Lizzie - Gets raped and leaves separately from Tommy

Season 4

Lizzie with May and Grace with May

Similarities

both women have little snark fest with May over Tommy

May comes to the area both are already at

The women that start the snark are the ones that Tommy favors the least at that moment

Differences

May is the aggressor with Grace in her scene whereas Lizzie is the aggressor in her scene with May.

Grace wins/has the last word with May whereas May gets the last word with Lizzie

After L&M had words Tommy still tried to hook up with May but after G&M had words Tommy never tried to hook up with her again (while grace was alive)

Tommy is pissed with Lizzie about it but we never find out what he thinks about G&M

END RESULT: GRACE - Has the last word and May leaves instead of waiting for Tommy. LIZZIE - Lizzie doesn’t get the last word and May waits for Tommy

Pregnancy announcement  

Similarities

both announce to Tommy they’re pregnant when he has other things on his mind

both tell him he’s the father and he believes both of them.

“a baby Thomas” and “a little you and me”

Differences

At first he tells Grace to pass it off as her husband’s but implies to Lizzie to get rid of it 

He’s shocked with Grace and lost for words but just stone faced with Lizzie

Grace tells him I love you but Lizzie never says anything like that

He tells Grace he will figure out what to do later whereas he tell Lizzie how it’s going to go down right away

He gets lost in the moment with Grace but with Lizzie his mind is still stuck with what happened (killed 3)

He plans on Marrying Grace (after he doesn’t die) and plans on just giving Lizzie a house and Money

He leaves WITH Lizzie but leaves Grace to keep with his plan

MY THOUGHTS: Tommy isn’t in a good headspace for the news with either one. He seems happy about it with Grace but to me it’s more happy that she loves him than that she is pregnant. I don’t think he came across as unhappy with Lizzie but more like oh ok we’ll deal with it. I definitely think it showed the disconnect between Lizzie in Tommy this scene but more on that during this next section.

END RESULT: GRACE - He’s happy and the scene ends with them going separate ways with future unknown. LIZZIE - He’s not happy (not mad though) and the scene ends with them leaving together and future plans known

Garrison murders aftermath vs I killed 3 (during pregnancy announcement)

Similarities

Tommy is in a bad mental place because of what just happened

Both try to give comfort (Lizzie the handhold and Grace the hug)

Differences

Grace is able to bring comfort to Tommy (the closed eyes when they are hugging) whereas Lizzie tries but it doesn’t work. 

Grace seen what Tommy did but Lizzie only heard about it

Grace brings Tommy comfort because they just saw each other murder someone and can understand what the other is feeling whereas Lizzie hasn’t done that yet and can’t connect on that level

Grace and Tommy are interrupted by Moss whereas Tommy breaks it up with him and Lizzie

Grace kind of puts Tommy in that situation whereas Lizzie has nothing to do with it (not directly at least but it did all start because she was dating Angel)

MY THOUGHTS: Grace brings Tommy comfort for this sort of thing because she’s seen him at his worst and vice versa and she understands. They just get each other on a deeper level. Lizzie tries to comfort him with the handhold but when she bends down to him they bump heads (ouch) and she doesn’t know what to say to bring comfort. They also don’t keep the forehead touch going on like G&T do. She brings up the baby but that’s not what he needs right at the moment. It’s telling right before she goes in to tell him, he is looking at Grace’s picture. Longing for comfort from the person who gave it to him before. This scene is where Lizzie also tells Tommy if he thinks she would get rid of their baby he doesn’t know her (showing he doesn’t really know her. which is also shown in the “WTF was that” scene about May). Yet, he’s told Grace they “know each other”. 

END RESULT: GRACE -  Moss breaks up their hug and Tommy is still upset and not hiding it. Then he walks her home and they share a cigarette (showing they’ve become closer as it’s more intimate).  LIZZIE -  Tommy breaks up the hand hold and pulls himself together even though he is still upset and drives her home but we don’t see it.

Season 5

Lizzie shoots gun vs Garrison murders

Similarities

Both women are wearing maroon

Both walk out with the gun and start shooting

Tommy is stunned both times

There are 2 other men involved

Tommy’s life is threatened both times when each woman comes out 

Both shoot twice

Both save Tommy’s life 

Happens at night

Differences

Lizzie doesn’t shoot anybody, just in the air but Grace shoots and kills one of the men

Lizzie speaks and then Tommy. For Garrison murders, Tommy speaks and then Grace.

Lizzie keeps the gun pointed at Tommy but Grace never points it at him (towards him at Byrne but not at him)

Tommy looks hurt that Lizzie is pointing gun at him and upset with Grace for shooting when he told her to just point

In the pub both men are IRA and at the house both men are Gypsies

Both men live with Lizzie but both men die with Grace

Happens inside with Grace and outside with Lizzie

Grace and Tommy get hurt but Lizzie and Tommy are both fine

Tommy and Lizzie help both men (Lizzie calls ambulance for Aberama and Tommy helps Johnny inside) whereas Grace and Tommy kill both men

Lizzie walks inside during scene and Tommy heads that way too but Grace and Tommy both just stand there till the next scene

Lizzie was shaking holding the gun but Grace was steady (she has training)

L&T sex scene in bedroom vs G&T sex scene at Ada’s

Similarities

close up on their faces at the beginning

the lighting is similar in color

the kissing is very audible in both scenes

the hand gripping the furniture

Differences

Lizzie lays down how things are going to go whereas Grace is trying to figure out

Grace touches Tommy’s face but Tommy is the one touching Lizzies face

Tommy focuses mainly on Lizzie’s body but focuses only on Grace’s face

the music is loud during G&T scene but low on L&T

heavy moaning during L&T during the sex but music takes over during G&T

G&T kiss most of the scene but L&T there is only a bit of it

Tommy throws Lizzie on the bed but walks Grace to the couch carefully

bed vs couch

there is some stripping in L&T but putting the clothes back on for G&T

Grace wants to make sure there is nobody else and Lizzie is ok with their being others as long as he follows her rules

MY THOUGHTS: The Lizzie and Tommy scene also reminded me of the May and Tommy scene from season 2. Lizzie and May are both wearing the same color of nightwear and they go the desk then the bed in both scenes. Which could also parallel the wedding episode where Grace and Tommy start kissing at the desk but move to the bed also. He is more gentle with Grace than the other two and there is more kissing. Grace is also wearing purple where the other 2 appear to be wearing light pink.

END RESULT: LIZZIE - Her and Tommy seem to have a deal in place about how their relationship is going to be going forward. GRACE - Her and Tommy’s future is still uncertain

Lizzie’s Birthday vs G&T Wedding

Similarities

A big party with lots of people at the arrow house

they keep guests waiting while they have sex

enemies are in attendance

someone gets shot

Neither woman knew about the enemy until the party

Tommy does business during the party

after sex we see both ladies pulling up their stockings on one leg

Differences

Tommy doesn’t want the Russians near his house but invites Mosely there

Worries about Grace being embarrassed and threatens his people over it but let’s Mosely embarrass Lizzie and says nothing (she has to save face by saying Mosely fell asleep early even though Lizzie just told Polly they fucked)

Polly is friendly with Lizzie but not with Grace

G&T dance but we watch other people dance (swans) instead at Lizzie’s party

the person that gets shot at the wedding dies but Linda lives 

Lizzie interacts with the enemy whereas Grace doesn’t

Tommy tries to hide the stuff from Grace but doesn’t Lizzie

L&T have sex once whereas G&T have sex twice

Loud moaning during sex with L&T, none with G&T

Sex is fully clothed with L&T but with sex scene we do see G&T are completely naked

Tommy warns Lizzie about the enemy beforehand but Grace has to get the information out of Tommy after it’s started going down

Enemy has ties to Lizzie but Russians have nothing to do with Grace

END RESULTS: LIZZIE - Tommy gives her more information about what’s going on and gets comfort from her (they end the scene together). GRACE - Her and Tommy get interrupted during sex and he goes to take care of their son and look out the window (a sign of worry/anxiousness)

So that’s all the scenes but here are some other details where they are the same but opposite:

Had a child with Tommy. GRACE - a boy and named after a real actor. LIZZIE - a girl and Ruby because she might grow up to be an actress herself according to Polly (also Ruby is red and Grace was wearing a sapphire which is blue and we all know red and blue are opposites).

Tommy asks Lizzie if she wants to fuck (also uses that vulgarity on other women) but never uses that vulgarity with Grace. 

Lizzie has threatened Tommy with a Gun 2x even though they have never been enemies but Grace who was his enemy never did.

In S5 Lizzie represents the black swan (she has it on her coat in episode 1) and Grace the white swan (there is an article about it). Now go look up the ballet Swan Lake....

Tommy has insulted both of them (”I still pay for it in my head” and “you’re used to be undercover”), Lizzie takes it while Grace smacks him.

Both are/were his wife. Lizzie is alive but Grace is dead.

His wedding ring with Lizzie is a plain one but a special one with Grace (can anyone tell me what’s engraved on it?).

He makes promises to both of them and breaks them. Lizzie gets angry and storms out whereas Grace says something about and Tommy makes her come with him (scene with RIP Charlie)

When the women order drinks, Grace ordered the champagne and Lizzie the Vodka tonic. 

He’s given them both gifts. He gave Lizzie money as a gift in 4x1 and Grace the sapphire in 3x2

RANDOM OBSERVATION:

When Tommy introduced his wife to Mosley he called her Elizabeth (he calls her Lizzie right after that). Her and Polly are both standing there and both of their names are Elizabeth. It felt like that was on purpose by the writers (Polly’s actress even says she is like his wife but without the sex). His work wife (who he is related to) and real wife share the same name...ughh gross. I know Mosely already met Polly and everything but the writers love to show us about how Tommy and Polly are the Head of the family. It just felt wrong. 

Which I also think the only reason Polly likes Lizzie for Tommy is because she knows she’ll never lose him to her. She knows Lizzie has no sway over Tommy and she can stay his true wife/partner. I say “true” because Tommy does tell Lizzie things but as we see in S5E1 he tells Polly more (and Lizzie is not happy about it).

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #grace burgess #tommy x grace #thomas shelby #grace shelby #meta #but not really #anti parallels #I have so much more to say but this post was taking forever to get done #so here it is #sorry it's so messy #I promise I'm much more eloquent in my head #but once it comes to putting words out in public all that seems to go away #I also think Lizzie is headed down the betrayal path like Grace #with her wearing the black swan in s5 and you get what you take #my house #my child #I think it's the only thing left to anti parallel Grace with #.... #I guess we'll see next season #I don't see them keeping Tommy with the same woman for 3 seasons #sorry but no

[causeimhappinesss]

Fading innocence - Thomas Shelby

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: age gap, smut, loss of virginty

Request : Hiii i'm the one that requested the tommy x christian reader, i was thinking if maybe you could write the moment where he takes her virginity, what does the family think about her, her telling him (before they start to date) that she wants to create a family with her future husband and have at least 2 kids or more because she wants them to have eachother's back always, and his reaction to it too♡♡♡♡ thank you so much♡♡♡♡

Disclaimer: I’m french and even if I’m learning English for a long time, it’s not perfect and I’m sorry if there are spelling or grammar mistakes. I haven’t written in English for almost a year. If English is your native language (or if you’re bilingual), I would really appreciate it if you could help me by correcting my errors. Just don’t be too harsh, please. :)

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Living in a wealthy family had advantages and disadvantages, it was undeniable. First, you couldn't date someone who didn't belong to your rank. Second, you were brought up in a very Catholic family and therefore, no sex before marriage. Oh God, no! Your father would have wanted your head on a stake, that's for sure! Third, your education made you very polite.

This is surely what had pleased Thomas Shelby the day you met him. As a politician, he was often called upon to meet so-called "high society people", other politicians and their families. So he had been invited for a weekend to a deputy's house. Drinking good French wine, playing golf, riding horses on your father's huge property, talking business and politics; it was the schedule. He planned to stick to it without causing any problems. To tell the truth, he appreciated your father, he was a very nice man who shared his vision of things in the political world, although he thought he too... Catholic, for his taste.

You stood in front of him, magnificent, breathtaking in this white dress that highlighted your purity and your curves, without ever falling into vulgarity. Beautiful women, he had seen them. He had even slept with a large number of them. Yet none, except Grace, had done this to him. You took his breath away.

He spied on you, in your every move. Your long doe eyelashes adorned your eyes with a color he judged sumptuous by its nuances. That doe look, what made him weak every time you spoke to him. "Mr. Shelby, what do you prefer in politics? "," Thomas, what are your next projects for the most disadvantaged populations? "," Tommy, could you teach me how to ride a horse, correctly? " 72 hours of pure delight where he became close to you. People had to be blind not to see this alchemy.

It was also long conversations between the two of you, he discovered that you liked to read, sometimes you wrote, you liked arts in general, and that you dreamed of starting your own family with several children. A dream of a little girl your never abandoned. Tommy could only find it respectable, even if part of him thought it was too… Classic? He had known women wilder than that, more free-spirited and yet your love of family and innocent side attracted him.

"I want my children to always have each other's back, it's so important in a family," it didn't surprise Tommy. The latter could only smile.

"A closely-knit family ? It's not easy, it's very rare, you know. I love my family, but sometimes, protecting each other is not as easy as you think. There's always a vicious guy to screw everything up. The perfect family doesn’t exist."

And after that, you tried to argue again and despite your youth, your lack of experience in life, you were doing pretty well.

The tall, violent and enigmatic Thomas Shelby couldn't take his eyes off you. You were so beautiful that it became painful. His heart was racing. His hands were shaking at times. In the evening, in his bed, he imagined your sweet face as he stroked his cock. You became his obsession. You were almost perfect. Almost. Why "almost"? You were so young, so... Devoted to God. Quite his opposite. Tommy was already 40 years old, and you just celebrated your 21st birthday. You liked to pray before each meal, especially in the evening, and you went to church each Sunday.

He thought he had no chance with you. And yet that didn't stop him from organizing weekends like this more and more often. Sometimes, your family was staying with him and sometimes, you family was telling him to stay. Of course, your father noticed something, even if he said nothing. In reality, he was waiting for Tommy to behave like a man and confess things to him. Your father hoped Tommy would ask you to marry him. This alliance would be a nice thing in terms of politics and it made him feel good about not having to force his daughter to marry a man she absolutely wouldn't love.

On your side, you often thought about this man. You thought he was attractive, enigmatic and you liked this harsh, icy side that he displayed with the others, while he was soft with you. You did everything to be in the same room as him, to find a topic for discussion and you loved when he taught you concrete things of real life. Your mother didn’t always see this as a good thing, she wanted to preserve you, a little Catholic from a good family, who had to be protected from obscenity. You were so innocent that you had no idea what happened when two adults kissed in a bed… You knew that they ended up naked, that there was a link between the female sex and the male sex, but it ended there. Likewise, the conception of a child was still unclear to you. For good reason, you didn’t went to school where children and adolescents share their new knowledges. And you only befriended with girls from wealthy and Catholic families, your mother watched your companies, so you couldn't know.

One evening, when you were at home and Tommy was sleeping in your parents' manor, you were dying of heat. Despite the window open in your room, the chest exposed with just your little nightie and a leg over your blanket, you turned in all directions. The moonlight allowed you to see everything in your room and your own body. You kept thinking of "Mr. Shelby" ... You were constantly looking for contact with him, so when he was nearby, you deliberately let your clothes rub against his when you walked near him, or you would slide your knee against his, if he sat next to you. You missed his touch. Imagining him putting his hands on your waist, your heartbeat increased and a sigh crossed the barrier of your lips. You stir in your bed again, until you felt your nipples rub against the blanket. With your nipples erected, your back shaken by pleasant chills, you sighed again. It was so nice. By mechanism, you did it again. It was so nice. Why did this friction do you so much good? Why did you want to start over? You felt a heat spread in your lower-abdomen. Without realizing it, your pelvis began to wave against the covers, which you pulled up between your thighs. Soon, the fabric rubbed obscenely against your intimacy despite your panties. It was so good that many sighs of desire and pleasure crossed the barrier of your lips. Soon, you repeated the name "Tommy" like a mantra.

In the middle of the night, Tommy felt the need to drink a glass of water. That’s why he got out of bed, put on a pant he buttoned up, and an undershirt. However, to go down to the kitchen, he had to walk near your room. Your sighs, which became weak moans, attracted his attention. He stopped, frowning, he was surprised. He thought he was dreaming. How did such an innocent little thing produce these sinful sounds? He pressed his ear to the door and he felt the excitement build up inside of him. He was used to this kind of noise, but what excited him was the fact it came out of your mouth. He felt his erection grow when she distinguished said his name. He slid his hand over his stretched cock, unable to resist the urge to join you in your bed, regardless of what it might cause. After all, Thomas Shelby does what he wants.

He discreetly opened the door of your room and closed it in silence, so you wouldn’t panic. Thanks to the moonlight, he saw you, the blanket between your thighs, your white nightie pulled up to the top of your thighs, your nipples up and you, rubbing against your blanket. Eyes closed, focused on your pleasure, a pout on your face because you tried to better, you couldn't see him. Discreetly, he came closer, then just as he let his hands go on your thighs, he murmured: "I'm here, love".

You jumped slightly and then your cheeks flushed with shame, embarrassment. You pushed his hands so warm, callused, so pleasant on your silky skin.

"I-I ... Tommy, you’re n-not allowed to be here ... Oh ... Oh my God! " You felt so ashamed that you felt tears coming to your eyes. What have you done? You realized you had just done something wrong, you had sinned. And the fact that Shelby was there, the man you were in love with, made it worse.

Seeming to perceive distress in your body language, Tommy grabbed your face between his hands and kissed every part of your face, whispering "It doesn't matter, it's human." He refused to let you regret, to let you feel dirty for the most human thing. In his eyes, sex should not be seen as something degrading, shameful. But it wasn’t easy to make you understand this, a little Catholic virgin. Meanwhile, as he continued to have a hard-on, he felt the need to act and to cum inside of you. How hard it was not to jump on you!

"Look at me." He ordered.

One simple sentence, and you executed. He looked deep into yours eyes as he stroked your cheeks.

"You’ve done nothing wrong.", he tried to reassure you. How you loved him so much! You drank his words, you believed him on words and your eyes stopped getting wet, the shame dissipated. And yet, you felt your intimacy so wet that it became embarrassing, the fabric of your white panties perfectly matched the shapes of your labia, as it became transparent. Without doing anything, it was impossible not to smell that odor... The smell of desire, of sex. The cheeks still peonies, you gestured in the hope that the fabric would let your sex breathe better ; it was effectless. You don't take your nightie down. Your nipples remained erect and, when he squinted his eyes, he wondered if you were as wise as you let him pretend, because he saw your pink nipples show through the fabric. An almost transparent white nightie. Without realizing it, one of his hands slid over his crotch. He holds back a sigh of distress. Never had he been so excited and even less, unable to do anything.

His gaze fell on your swollen mouth, then he pressed his lips against yours. Against all expectations, you responded to his kiss. You lacked of experience, but you learned very quickly. Tommy was leading the dance between your tongues and soon his body covered yours. He slipped between your thighs where his cock was trying somehow to free itself from his clothes, while his pants rubbed against your wet intimacy. His hands slipped under your nightie and caressed your breasts. Tenderly. With passion. With desire. He took off your nightie and then covered your chest with wet kisses, until he let his tongue do the rest of the work. He went down to your panties, which he removed with his teeth. He had a perfect view of your intimacy, almost devoid of hair, to his amazement. He got a perfect view of the object of his desires.

"Tommy... We can't... It's wrong... Religion forbids me to do this kind of thing before marriage..." you meowed when you were as desperate as he was, even if you didn't know exactly what your body was asking for.

"I will marry you, Y/N."  Your eyes widened at the revelation as your heartbeat quickened again.

Tommy was sincere. He was a man of words. You would become his wife soon and he knew your father wouldn’t say no if he asked for your hand. That was all it took for you to be transported to the gates of the pleasures of the flesh. The man released his penis from his pants and then from his briefs, which restrained him. The sight of his sex, long, thick, hard, provoked in you an immense wave of heat. Without knowing why, you felt the urge to lick his reddened glans with an intense excitement. So you listened to you body and leaned over his sex to place many kisses there and then lick the wet tip, covered with pre-cum. Tommy had never been so hard, actually it was even painful. Soon, he needed to slip his cock into your pussy! But he was patient, he wanted to be gentle for your first time. You would be the angel who would heal him from his wounds, for sure.

He let you experiment on your own, then he made you fall on your back, slid your legs over his shoulders, to start devouring your labia. Just your sweet smell made him salivate. He kissed, licked as much as he could. Never had he lingered so much on a woman's intimacy. He knew at this time, no one would hear you, because your parents' room was too far away to hear such sinful noises and everyone was sleeping.

When he was finished, he straightened up and rubbed his cock against your clitoris, your labia and then the vagina entrance. The fact that he would be the first (and probably the last) excited him even more. Finally, he penetrated you with a groan as you moaned. You were so excited that you didn't feel any pain. He waited a few moments for you to adapt to his presence, then he began the first back and forth movements, under your innocent moans. It was so good that you didn’t know where to turn, the moans gushed out of your mouth without you being able to contain them and you grabbed Tommy's arms so he wouldn’t stop. You never wanted it to stop. The more it continued, faster, stronger, with certain angles, the better it was. You could no longer think for yourself. Your animal instinct controlled your body. You just knew it was what you wanted: Tommy, deep inside you. For his part, Tommy couldn't help but growl, it was so... Delicious. Ecstasy without having reached orgasm yet. He didn't think of anything either. The bed creaked and pounded on the wall with his movements, but he didn't care. God knows he was refraining from fucking you with more savagery! He preferred to stay on basics for the moment, in the missionary position. Sometimes, he watched his cock come out of your vagina and pussy lips engorged with blood, reddened by the act. He saw Evil dirtying Purity; this vision gave him more pleasure.

The pleasure increased more and more. Orgasm was approaching. When the supreme pleasure swept over you, you no longer saw anything, you couldn’t hear yourself screaming in pleasure, to the point where Tommy had no choice but to put his hand over your mouth. His increasingly irregular movements as he moaned testified to one thing: he was also reaching the seventh heaven. His hands were encrusted on your hips, you would have marks. He emptied his seed inside of you, while your pussy contracted around him. A few seconds later, he pulled out and watched his sperm leak out of your vagina to stain your sheets. The sight made him smile, you were full of his cum and with all that amount, he suspected that you could get pregnant. Usually, he didn't cum inside, but with you .. The question hadn't arisen.

You could throw your panties in a trash can, the maid who would do the laundry would have no doubts about what you had done and warn your mother. Anyway, if you were going to keep it a secret, it was fucked up. Your sheets were filled with his seed and with that, your parents will know pretty soon that Tommy Shelby will have taken your virginity.

Tommy slept with you that night. The next morning, he engaged in a serious discussion with your father to ask him for your hand, something he accepted. So much the better because a few minutes later, your mother's screams rang out throughout the manor... She had just discovered that her daughter was no longer innocent.

Three months after losing your virginity, you became a Shelby. You had a sumptuous marriage, perhaps even more incredible than Grace, because this time, the two families got along pretty well. Mistrust was on the side of the Shelby family, they thought this story waq rather strange, it was going quite quicky… Linda complained to you, she didn't know how you could have fallen into Tommy's arms , “the poison of this family ", according to her, since she left Arthur. Ada was adorable. The rest of the family wasn't a problem, frankly, they liked to make fun of you but always kindly because they knew they would be dealing with Tommy. As for Polly, she did everything in her power to guess your intentions until she finally liked you. She liked your innocent side, you wouldn’t create problems and you were Catholic, so you were "perfect", according to her. She was the one who told you that you were going to have a baby boy.

Nine months after losing your virginity, you gave birth to a wonderful baby boy, as Polly predicted.

Subsequently, you had two more children, another boy and a girl. And in view of your young age, but also of your sexual activity with Thomas, the latter had no doubt about the possibility of the arrival of several other children… This didn’t change his love for his two eldest children, Ruby and Charles.

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I hope you like your imagine, little anon ♡ (you asked me a lot of things, so I focused on the virginity and I hope it’s okay. Don’t hesitate to give me your feedback)

#peaky blinders #imagine peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #imagines tommy shelby #imagines peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you