#and she and solomon just dress the fucking same

[everythingelseisextra]

Come Home (Tommy's Perspective)

Part Fifteen: David and Goliath

Description: Tommy doesn't tell you everything. So much gets stuck in his mouth, including his business. Warnings: PTSD, language, Tommy being angsty I guess Word Count: 4796 (sorry) Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @Majesticcmey @Optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @ay0nha @mgdixon @fairytale07 @dreamy-caramel @ce1iat @algae-tm @dragonsondragons @trentknd @nothingofsimplicity @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul

12 Hours before the attack on the barn

When she leaves, my mind clears. I think differently when she’s here. Softer, like a spell cast to make what I’ve learned and what I’ve made myself less important. She leaves out the front door, and I walk back through the house. Footsteps echoing through the halls like a heartbeat. It’s easy to slip back into a routine, to abide by the list that creates itself somewhere in my head. I find the phone and dial the number without thinking about it. Pick it up, hold it to my ear, wait.

“Hello, Tommy.” Arthur, the usual rashness to his words drowned out by the phone’s crackling. His drawl is recognizable to me like I’d know my own hand, and it’s something of a comfort after the talk I’d had with her. “Why’re you calling me at this hour?”

I forget he’s not awake nearly as early as I am. My day, and her day, too, starts before the sun. I don’t give it any pause. He doesn’t care about the real reason I’m calling him. Wants his orders from his sergeant major and to put his head down and do it. “I need you to start what we talked about, Arthur. With the girls. Talk to ‘em, get what you can out of them, see if you can find any of the men who hold their leashes.” 

“On it, Tom.” A rustling of movement tells me he’s just finishing getting dressed. “That all?” 

“Tell John to do the same. Stay on the outside, don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong.” I can smell breakfast in the air. All I want is a drink and a cigarette. Too early for that. Need to eat. “Tell me what you find.”

“All this for that woman who sprayed you with the hose, eh?” There’s amusement in his tone that I don’t like. Like he’s caught me on some trick I took, like he has something on me. Maybe he does. 

“Yep,” I say shortly, not inviting more questions. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing. Just looking out for you, Tom, that’s all.” 

“I know what I’m doing.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, then drop my hand. “Goodbye.”

“We’re worried about you here. Seems a bit soon, doesn’t it? After Grace and all that—”

“Goodbye, Arthur.” I put the phone down and huff out a breath. 

Seems a bit soon. Maybe it is. Maybe I’m all up in my head, afraid to be alone at night, so I attached to the first kind face I saw. Maybe our meeting was some mistake made by me to draw her into the dark. 

No. She carries the same burden as I do, in a different form. If our meeting was anything, it was mercy. If some cosmic mistake is what brought us together then it will take another one to tear us apart. 

—

Alfie Solomons leaves after the briefing on the Russians. The door remains open. My brothers stay. Their eyes flick down to the ground and stay there, and I slowly sit back down onto my chair. None of them want to be the first to talk. I look to Arthur, let him feel my gaze. If I feel something at their reluctance to leave, it’s too deep for me to be aware of it. I shy away from feeling too deeply. Nothing set in stone, and yet, everything a dirt road. Tread the same path too long and it will become the only path there is. I refuse to be limited by my own emotion. 

“So, Russians, hey?” Arthur tries at skirting away from whatever shames him. I stare up at him, unamused. “We— we uh— we fucked up, Tom.” Arthur stumbles over the confession and John shoots him a look of venom. “I fucked up.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

“One of the girls— well, you know how they are— I had some drink in me and she— she asked some questions. Shouldn’t have answered them, Tom. Should’ve kept my bloody mouth shut. It doesn’t matter now, they know. I told it to ‘em, and now they know. Nothing to do but—”

“What do they know, Arthur?” I keep my voice even. My head throbs where the stitches were taken out months ago, another sign of my dawning insanity. 

“You know how it is, they act all nice to ya and—”

“He told them about hose-girl.” John cuts in. “He told them that he knows about the one that got away.”

My eyes lock onto the drawer in the desk where my gun sits, hidden. “How much did you tell them?”

“Ah, well, it was all very— I mean, I told them—”

“Get to the fucking point.” Inside that drawer is a weapon I’ve held to the temples of many a man, myself included. Inside that drawer is the hope I have of protecting my own. Including her.

“I told them she has horses. That’s all. That she has horses and doesn’t live in town. All I said, I swear it.” His voice carries bravado, covering up for the anxiety I know he has. He doesn’t like displeasing me, and he certainly has. 

My words come short and quiet. “You gave them definitive information about a woman they’ve been trying to find for years.” 

His silence resonates. 

“Answer me, Arthur.” I tear my eyes from the drawer to pin him down, trying to lock onto his shifty eyes. 

“Yes, sir, I did.” He looks to John for support, pleading with him for backup. He finds nothing but a stony face. 

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this before I planned to meet with the fucking Russians?” My voice threatens to raise and his eyes grow furtive. 

“I thought—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you thought!” I stand, slamming a hand down on the desk in front of me. Arthur flinches. “Her blood is on your hands, and you’re standing there telling me what you thought?” 

“It was my mistake, Tom, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’re fucking sorry. We’re all fucking sorry.” I grit my teeth, grind them, and walk out from behind the desk. They turn on instinct, soldiers at attention, their eyes on my back. “We go to the Russians, and we go to save what’s left of her. Understood?”

“Yes.” John’s voice.

“Arthur?” His name is rancid on my tongue. I grow antsy, a green horse on its first ride, flinching and preparing to bolt. I should be by her side, getting her out of there. I should be hunting down the man who thought he could own someone like her. 

But I have business. The world slowly lowers down on my shoulders, and I am not Atlas. I cannot shrug. 

—

I leave the Russians with the scent of cigarettes, whiskey, and Tatiana’s perfume lingering on me, and the thought of Grace stuck in my head. I was careless, and now I’m hungover, disorganized. The night is still young, and we reach home before the moon is bright in the sky. First thing I do is pick up the phone and call Moss. I ask him about a woman in a barn outside of Birmingham, and he tells me they found two dead bodies with her. 

“She’s safe?” 

“She is for now. She won’t talk and she has no record, Mr. Shelby, we gotta take her in.” 

“No.” I shake my head. “Keep her. See if she’ll talk. I’ll come get her.”

I need an ally. I need help, with everything, not just the quiet things. I need someone who can stare down the barrel of a gun and keep their mouths shut. I need someone who ignores the urge to run, who knows that they’re a monster, too. Two dead bodies found at the barn. One smashed, one shot. When I close my eyes, I can see myself pulling the trigger, smashing the skull. When I think about it, I can feel her fear and determination. My brow furrows, my lips part. She sits alone in a cell while men she doesn’t know interrogate her. 

“Is that all, Mr. Shelby?”

“Don’t.” I shake my head, a headache stretching between my temples. “Don’t make her talk. Let her wait. I’ll be there.”

“Yessir, Mr. Shelby.”  

“That’s all, Moss. Goodnight.”

I put the phone down and make my way to the bathroom to clean myself off, to rid myself of the smell of other women and spirits and the taste of Grace on my lips. So that she doesn’t smell it, yes, and so that I can forget it ever happened. So that I can wash off the shame and fear and overwhelming sense of loneliness. So that the path I tread doesn’t become beaten. 

—

After I’ve cleaned the wounds on her head, after the blood has been washed off, after the sins of my war have been confessed, she sleeps in the bed next to me. I’m on my back, but my head is tilted. Her eyes flutter beneath her eyelids. Her lips part slightly. Moonlight shines on her skin. A swollen bump grows underneath her chin, skin broken. 

If I could love her, it would be heavy. Something to carry with me. My love, I’ve learned since Grace, has teeth. Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe possession, maybe control. I can grip with clenched, white knuckles. I can force someone to come back to me, not because they want to, because they have to. I want to love her but I doubt that I can. When I try, something hurts, and I cannot tell her where, only that it does.

A desperate part of me that I do not visit often wants to know what it’s like to be consumed. I am always the possessor, not the possessed. I want to be claimed. I want her love to have teeth, like mine, that can show me that my armor is only skin. If she was the one to cut me, I would bleed forever. That desperation believes that, even with Grace’s death, there is a person out there made exactly for me. That desperation believes that the war I fought in might be echoed in someone else’s. That desperation believes that I have found her and I am ruining it. 

I get up from the bed and my body aches. Faint bruises form on my trachea, where Tatiana pressed down. I look at myself in the mirror and empty eyes stare back. There is fear behind them. I want to lay back down with her and forget about last night and tonight and all the regrettable nights I will undoubtedly have until she is brave enough to touch me. 

In three days time I crawl back into a tunnel, deep underneath the earth, with the pressure of the world lying over me, precarious. I brave the underground for the sake of a robbery that could make or break my career. I promised Grace to stay legal. She’s dead. And the company runs.

—

“We have your son. Get in the car.” 

Rain patters on the outside of the car. I’m in a tinfoil box, and my son is out there. “First. Is he safe?”

“Of course he’s safe. All children are dear to me.”

Michael’s voice, his confession, speaks to me from memory. My son, in the hands of men who have little respect for physical boundaries. Who have little respect for children themselves.

“You have all the cards. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will certainly do it.” My words are choked at the ends, not broken, but holding anger and panic. 

“You ever drive one of these beasts?”

“I’m asking you to conduct business.”

“I borrowed it. Lent it. By a lord. For the duration of this business.”

My head bowed, my eyes unblinking, staring forward, waiting for the order that will save my son. I breathe heavily. I have no choice. I have to comply. “I will certainly do what you need me to do with no complaints.”

“We were forced into doing this awful thing. We did warn you that your son would be in danger if you deviated from the plan.” The priest speaks to me like I’m thick, words slow and gentle and pretentious. “It was you who made a mistake, you understand that?”

“Yes.” Anything. Anything to get him back. 

“What mistake did you make? Do you even know?”

Now it’s a game. A show of power. I have no choice. I must comply. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“You made a deal with our enemies.”

“I will do what needs to be done.” “You went behind our backs to stop the Soviets from blowing up the train. But it’s alright. It’s alright. We’ve rectified your mistake. You ask me ‘what do I need to do?’ Well, here’s what you need to do, you fucking mongrel, you.” He hands me an envelope. I take it with shaking hands. “But since the Bolsheviks will not be blowing up the train, you’ll blow up the train yourself. It’s always been about the explosion. From the beginning. The bang. The outrage. Understand?”

I nod, unable to do anything else. A mechanical movement, trained into me, comply, comply, comply. 

“Those are notes and fragments for you to scatter in the wreckage. Implicating named officials from the Soviet embassy.” 

“I will scatter them. It will be done.” 

“Good. Our friends at the Time and the Daily Mail will do the rest. And once the British government cuts diplomatic relations with the Soviet Union, that will be our mission accomplished. You’ll have been part of a fine adventure.” His eyes land on me. I can feel his gaze, despicably soft brown eyes, a red herring. “To help with the outrage, we need people to die in the explosion.” 

I feel nothing. I am an empty shell of a man, puppeteered by a God that despises me. “How many?”

“Let’s say; six? Rail workers, perhaps. Men from the factory.” 

I nod. That's all I can do. “And I want my son returned to me within an hour of the explosion.” 

“Oh, it’s conditions now, is it?” The amusement in his words sends chills down my back. I shift forward.

“We need to fix the handover in advance.” Firmness. Clinging to what little power I have. 

“I haven’t finished with you yet, Mr. Shelby. We also hear you’re digging a tunnel. Mining for precious stones under Wilderness House. I’m told they have a faberge in the strong room. The Lilies Of The Valley Egg, made in 1898. One of the Odd Fellows has a wife who’s obsessed with faberge. He wants to give her the egg for her birthday…”

“He will have it.” Comply.

“And the economic league will take all the jewels that you steal, to cover our considerable expenses. The fight against communism isn’t cheap, you know? So if you want to see your—”

“I will bring you all the jewels.”

“A bang first. Then bring everything you’ve stolen to your office at dawn.” 

I shake my head. “No. No. I’ll not be able to get the jewels to you by dawn. The tunnel has hit clay.”

“If the Saint Andrews clock strikes 5:00 am on the night of the robbery, and we don’t have everything that we’ve asked for, the bell will be tolling for your boy.” 

Thunder rumbles. I nod, closing my eyes. My son. The last piece of Grace I have. 

“Now get out of my fucking car.”

—

A day has passed since I’ve seen her. She has her horses. She’ll think of me when she has the time, wonder where I’ve gone off to. I have no doubt she’ll worry tonight. She’ll pace the room we share and think she’s made a mistake, some blunder that’s chased me away. I think as I drive that this might be the end. My disappearance, my lack of communication, my lies, might be the final straw for her. She knows nothing of the Russians or the Soviets, knows only little of the priest. I’m sure she expects me back when the sun starts to go down. I’m sure her sleep will be fitful or impossible without knowing where I am. 

I won’t be going home tonight. She will rise before dawn, when I crawl out of a tunnel, and she will wonder where I am. Perhaps she’ll call Ada, who’ll tell her nothing. I am Midas. When I touch her, she turns cold, so I don’t. I don’t tell her of the business I conduct because she doesn’t deserve to be part of this bloody fucked up world I’ve created. So, she’ll wake up, and I’ll be gone. No explanation, no contact. And I’ll come home when the sun has risen and I’ll explain nothing. I protect my own. 

I protect my own, but I’ve chosen Charlie over her, and of that I am guilty. 

There’s gray in the sky when I arrive at the tunnel. Johnny Dogs shouts at me, seeking an explanation for my sudden appearance. I shout back something about my boy and the priest and midnight, and before he can stop me, I climb down into the tunnel. 

I don’t feel. I try to chase away the ebb and flow of my head during daylight, above ground, when the danger separates itself from the soldier I used to be. I’ve built a dam between myself and whatever wave of emotion comes crashing in. I can see it come, but I am never drowned by it. Not when I’m on top of the world instead of underneath it. 

I am trapped in a birth canal of mud and the sound of picks against clay. I cannot move in any direction without being pressed against some wall. I watch the only way out disappear behind me. There’s no escape except to complete my mission and pierce through the earth. Some nightmare shakes the earth around me. My heart pounds in my chest. I’m covered by dirt and it staunches the blood from the abrasions; from the axes, from the rough stones, from myself, that mark my shaking body. 

The single lantern flashes shadows and I can hear the Germans against the barrier in front of us. A race against time begins. No apparatus supports us, all we have are pickaxes to eat away at the earth in front of us. Tunnel warfare springs to life, and my head pounds, and the dam is broken. My hands shake and my eyes are wide and there’s no doubt that I am terrified. Doesn’t matter. I can be scared and still work, still function, still complete the business I’ve forced myself into. There are men by my side that inch forward with every second, who I trust, who know the tunnels as damn well as I do. 

I am ripped into being alive. Sensations, doubts, fears, absolute terror, things I have not felt since the war. On hands and knees, chipping away at impossibility, the earth rumbling with soldier’s feet and mines exploding on the no-man’s-land I tunnel beneath. Strangely, there is fear, and next to it a sense of belonging. This is my grave that I dig, and I am meant to die here, underground. This is my home, the first place I learned to run from, the first place I promised myself I would never return. 

One of the men seizes and I do nothing to help him but send him out. On the edge of the shakes myself, I am wired to do nothing but dig. Forcing the wet clay apart, blood and sweat dripping from my forehead, inching forward bit by bit with the other men. 

I remember rot. I remember bodies buried in the clay. I remember the sun being a dream. I remember each shake of the earth a bad omen, each sound of picks on the other side a forewarning to our deaths. God watched idly as I buried myself and other men in a grave I dug myself. We told each other not to listen when we screamed, when we convulsed at night, when we broke from the pressure of the world on our shoulders. 

I can feel sludge beneath me, slipping, and I know I’m going too fast. My men build supports with timber to hold up the earth on weak substructures. Condensation drips onto me. The ground around us shivers, rocks tumble from around the supports, and we pause, waiting, expecting to be buried. Nothing. 

Gasping for breath. Body bruised and battered. Swimming in the suffocating pressure of the earth surrounding us. Trying desperately to dig upwards, to save our own lives. To survive. None of it real, just the sound my picks and the men building supports.  

I reach the end and plant an explosive. Backing away. Blinking the blood and sweat out of my eyes. It goes off, and I expect to be buried but have no time to fear it. Before the smoke clears, I’ve escaped the tunnel, and I can breathe, if only for a moment. My shaking hands scoop jewels into a canvas bag, giving no thought to what I grab, where I grab from. I take and take and take. 

There’s a shout that I don’t have much time. I suck in a breath, snatch blindly at the last few jewels. Crawl back into the tunnel, throwing the bag of jewels in front of me, following the men as they begin the creep back up. 

I’m the last out. The other men have gone to clean themselves up. Panting, I lie in the dirt where I belong, and roll onto my back to stare up at the black sky. My breath fogs the air. Bits of my body stings where the skin was scraped off. And I pant. 

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. 

—

Somehow, I manage to drive. I don’t see the trees around me, don’t see the grass or the hills, just look straight ahead as my destination grows on the horizon. A single phone booth on the side of the road, resolute. I don’t turn off the car, stepping out and walking unsteadily over to it. I place a coin in, turn the handle, and wait. 

“Let me speak to him,” I say.

My son’s babbling fills the phone and I smile. “Hello, Charlie.” 

He’s unharmed. He’s safe. The nightmare, for now, is over. A lump forms in my throat and I don’t understand it. I’m smiling. I’m relieved. My hand shakes. There’s extra liquid in my eyes. 

“Hello, Charlie,” I say again. He responds with a quiet dadda and nothing else. 

“Can you hear me?” I sniffle and fend off the rising pressure in my chest, holding it off until I’m done, until I know he’s safe. 

He mumbles something about being tired and I smile again, heart simultaneously filling and being stabbed with something cold. “Yeah. You go to bed. Good boy.” 

The call ends and I put the phone down. Something in me bends and bends and bends and then, finally, snaps. My brow furrows and I squeeze my eyes shut and a small sob wracks my body. 

It was a success. My son is safe. The jewels are ready. I should be fucking grateful that I survived this. That we survived this. 

There’s a sense in me that there was no success, only what appears to be one. There’s a sense in me that tells me I’ve pushed those I want close further and further from me. There’s a sense that I will never be the man I hope to be because it’s hard when I’m always fucking unwanted. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel unless I blow it up. There’s no joy to be had unless I force it. 

And I sob, because I feel everything. There’s an ache in my chest and a hole in my heart. There’s pain through my body and a horrible loneliness in my head. There’s relief, pure and unadulterated, and there’s terror lingering from the tunnel, images flashing through my mind of what burned itself into my mind in France. Claustrophobia burns through me. I sob over what I’ve destroyed like I want to stop and worship it, and soon, I’ll be back with a pick in my hand and explosives waiting. 

My son has grown up barely knowing me because I’m consumed by business. My heart has been broken too many times and I fear that it will never be made whole. I am a soldier with only the cause of ambition to guide me. And I feel everything, even though I try to hide it. 

I take a breath, pressing my eyes closed, then pull myself together and straighten. I call her. I suspect she won’t pick up, but I try anyway. 

There’s a click and her voice, distorted by the distance, says my name in a tone I can only describe as fearful. “Tommy?”

“Yes,” I say, words still choked. 

“Where have you been?” Not steady, not brave, not the tone I know from her. 

“Business.” It’s the only explanation I can give. 

“Business? For two days straight?” 

“Yes. For two days straight. You need to know who I am.” I squeeze the earpiece, stopping my voice from wavering. “You need to know that I can’t give you what you want.”

There’s quiet on the other end of the phone. My hand continues to shake.

“What happened?” The fear is gone, in its place, worry.

“Nothing happened,” I lie. “Do you understand me? I can’t be the one you need. You think I’m going to change but those fuckers out there are worse than I am.” 

“I’ve never wanted you to change. I’ve never asked for that. And no one can be everything to someone. I’m not expecting that from you. I just want you to tell me when you’re going to be gone like this.” 

“They’ve issued an arrest for my family and I have to let it happen.” 

“What?” 

“For my brothers, for Pol, for Esme and Linda. I made the wrong enemies.” Please, forget about me, choose to leave. “You should go before it all goes to shit.”

“Tommy. I’m not going. I’m staying with you. You’ve made a mistake, that doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon you. I told you I would forgive your rottenness and I plan to keep that promise.” Her voice is strained. “Tom, just come home, we can talk—”

“I’ve gotten mixed up in something too big for me.” I close my eyes, a small tear dripping out. “I won’t have a family after this.”

“Thomas Shelby, I swear to God, if you don’t come home, I’m tracking you down and dragging you here myself. Okay? So get back in your car and drive your ass home. You’re gonna be fine, you’re not gonna end up without a family. You’re going to be fine.” Her voice softens towards the end and I feel myself drawn towards her, despite everything. “You won’t be alone.”

“I fucked another woman.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. Quit trying to make excuses for me to leave you. Come home, we’ll calm you down, and we’ll talk about it.” 

“My brothers told them where you were. The attack was my fault.”

“I get what’s happening here. Something scared you, and you think you’re hurting everyone around you, so you’re self-sabotaging. Come home. That’s all I want. Don’t you want to give me what I want?” 

I do. I always want to give her what she wants. There are better men out there who could love her. There are better people who could protect her without making the mistakes I did. 

They’ll have to get through me, though. 

“I’ll come home.” I open my eyes and blink hard, ridding them of their bleariness. “I’m not the man you want, love.”

“So you keep saying.” Her words grow wry. “You forget that you don’t get to tell me what I want. And I want you. I don’t know how to make that any clearer to you.” 

I nod and give in to the words she speaks. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon, Tom. Yes?”

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

I put the phone down. This shallow world, this twisted and broken body I live in, this mind that I cannot control, somehow she is a master of all of it. Somehow she puts me at ease. Love, I think, is two people inspiring each other to live. And she gives me a reason, and she stays by my side. 

Dawn breaks, and I walk back to my car in silence. 

[my-names-angel-but-im-not-one]

Replaced or not?

Part-1 Part-2

Based on my mc!!

⚠️ Note ⚠️:

Not a replaced au!Obey me au!

Also belphie wasn't locked in the attic!!

We don't have pacts with brothers this all is new!!

Summary: Here not only you but one more candidate was called as two human was required to compare and diavolo didn't considered Solomon as a human.

You

Her . The girl you hate ,the fucking I'm cute , pretty n good at everything , from your school "run-hai".

Pairing: obey me characters x Mc!

"Run hai let's go play this game!!"

"run hai would u like to try this nail paint i got from mojolish!!"

"Run hai why don't u came and sleep with me instead or go to hells kitchen"

Run hai this Run hai that, Run hai , Run hai Run hai

' They're all so fucking entranced by her , just because of her looks AUGH I Fucking Hate this' you thought .

Run hai was another candidate that was bought to devildom to survive . Everyone thought of her as a cute rabbit trying to survive. But you knew her true colors. She was from the same school as you after all. She was the girl who'd put even her bff at the alter just to get boys after her . She'd act all shy and tiny but you know her better.

Run hai was not a rabbit but a bug that'll go into your brain and eat it inside out .

Run hai was pretty no doubt . With a baby face , long brown wavy hair, light brown pretty eyes pink cheeks , pretty pink lips and more than average boobs and ass. Some may call her an angel.

Whereas you , you were not so eye catching, sure you were pretty too some may even call you gorgeous but only if they look hard and clear.

Short black hair almost about above your ears, black eyes, pale color, and thin but pink lips. You were skinny, so much that one would think that your malnutritious , but you do have a hourglass shape though. And in contrast to Run hai's small and petite curvy body , your's were tall and less curvy giving you a rather mature look.

([A/N]: i have described in detailed because it's my mc )

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

You sighed thinking that how these bunch of demons are so easily getting tricked by a mere human .

They didn't ignored you , no ( that only made it hard for you to leave them on their own) they treated you okay but they do prefer her over you.

The only person who supported you more and absolutely tried their best stay away from her was Diavolo , Barbatos 'barbatos said it was a time thingy thing'

Simeon, luke as they're angels so know when they see an evil soul, and Solomon he said "it takes one to know one". Well according to Solomon she's super shady to which you agreed .

Satan also have his assumptions about her as to he can sense emotions very clear and he had seen Simeon flinched whenever she's near. What can a human do to make an angel flinch??

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

You were getting tired of their lovey dovey time so you slammed your book shut as loudly as you can and went upstairs.

"What's up with her ?" Asmo said .

"Maybe she's tired of you all neglecting her" satan said angry at everyone , you were the only one who saw him for him . He knew that run hai was a bad person whe she said "you're just like Lucifer so nice~"

"We're not neglecting her we all talk to her on daily basis" Levi said irritated.

"Yeah only when you have to wait in a line so you just ask her to be their , and Lucifer just talks to her about her grades , asmo only acknowledges her when he want her to model for his dresses , mammon continuosly ask for Grimm , beel just asks her for food, and belphie, let's not forget you hate humans , you think she's a pest!!!"

Satan bursted out and all the brothers started feeling bad and guilty....Run hai saw this and tried to get their attention back "uhh or maybe she's just overreacting , she'll be alright!!" she said but no one listen . She Failed in trying to get their attention but do succeed in making Lucifer suspicious of her .

'Something's wrong with her' (yeah GOOD MORNING Lucifer).

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

Satan reached your room and knocked

"you know you're allowed with knocking"

"how'd you know?"

"you always knock 4 times and in a rhythm"

".......sharp..."

"yeah cause you basically forced me to watch those detective movies with you"

He sat behind you watching your frown adorned face. "Don't worry about them they are idiots" you replied with a "i know....but still we can't just leave them to be a prey" " they're demons MC they won't be hurt ......at least not that bad" "hey!" . You then started to reason with him " You know she's not a good person" "i do....but stop worrying 'bout those who take you for granted "

"hmm....maybe you're right, I've my pride too yk!!"

"ehh don't say pride please..."

"ok huehuehue"

"what kind of laugh is that" satan laughed at your funny laughing style.

"it's called cat laugh!!"

"......wtf!!"

You both laughed a full bloom laugh , like kids in a playground. While Mammon was standing outside your door....,who heard all that......

To be continued.....

[A/N]: This is based on my dream i dreamt that i was summoned to obey me's world but the pick me bitch of my school was also there so i created it !! Hope you liked it!!

Also Run hai is pronounced as "Roon haaye"

Thanks for reading!!

[moral-terpitude]

Quiet Sunday

Okay Flor @raincoffeeandfandoms, I got carried away with my Moodboard here! But rainy Sundays are my absolute favorite combination! A day with nothing to do, unless you make plans, to otherwise just enjoy a rainy day! Congrats on your 2.2k milestone!

***

Sunday.

Out of all the days it was the most looked forward to in the Shelby family. Your portion of it anyway, for vastly different reasons you were sure from Arthur and Linda’s household.

It was the only day that everyone had figured out, after a good tongue lashing or two for stealing Tommy from your company on a Sunday, not to disturb your family.

As you made your way down the hall, a sweatshirt and leggings making you far more decent than the way Tommy left you in bed this morning to fall back asleep and enjoy some peace and quiet, you heard…nothing.

No sound of Frances vacuuming, no video game noises and boys hollering coming from Charlie’s room.

Nothing.

Just silence.

You quickly knocked twice on Tommy’s office door before peeking your head in, loose pieces of hair falling in your face as you waited for him to look up from the papers he was holding.

He looked more relaxed than usual, feet propped on his desk, skimming something for who knows what.

“C’mon then, love.” He nodded as he spoke, messy dark hair still unkept from when he got up, and thankfully for whoever else may have been in the house (had Finn ended up staying last night?), he was dressed in some lounge pants and a tee shirt.

You grinned, letting the door click closed behind you, and he let his feet fall from the desk to give you clearance to crawl into his lap.

“It’s quiet.”

The chuckle reverberated through his chest as he tucked you under his chin, discarding the papers on the desk.

“Rare anymore.” His agreement made a nostalgic feeling stir in your chest.

Rain pattered against the windows as you shifted, trying to get comfortable. “I miss getting up and finding you and your boy out in the stables on a Sunday morning, Tom.”

He huffed, “He’s your boy too, eh? Too worried about what his uncle and his friends are doing now.”

The fire crackled as the rain hammered against the roof, playing a sweet tune with the metal of the roof.

“He went with Finn?”

“I don’t think they can manage to get up to too much on a Sunday. Pol wanted them round to help with moving some furniture.”

Two soft taps on the door had you straightening up slightly, perched on Tommy’s leg as he informed Frances she could come in.

“Mrs. Shelby, would you like breakfast this morning?”

Tommy’s fingers felt like they were going to wear a hole in your leg as he kneaded at your thigh.

“No thank you, Frances. Maybe just some coffee. No rush, I’ll be down to get it.”

It was the first of the month, which meant going over the Itinerary (which, how could you small family of three be so busy?), planning the menu, you needed to sort the bills, the bookkeeper needed last months bank statements…

“What do you say we go to that book shop you like, eh?”

His eyes glimmered at the suggestion. You knew your hair would never survive this rain, and you already had how many rooms full of books—

“Is…” you could already see his inclination to roll his eyes as you tapped your chin with your pointer finger, the light of the fire glimmering in the nothing short of obnoxious ring that he had replaced twice with something “better” than the previous one, “Thomas Shelby OBE MP, asking me on a date?”

“Hmm,” his thumb brushed along your cheek, brow quirking as you were sure he was going to use the same line he always did in response, “don’t tell me wife.”

As if on queue, Tommy’s phone started to vibrate across the table, and you couldn’t contain the laugh anymore, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Your smile was contagious, and you left Tommy with whatever was so fucking urgent for Alfie Solomons to be calling him on a Sunday while you went to the kitchen to retrieve your coffee.

[justrainandcoffee]

Criminal (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc)

Alfie Solomons x Rose Coldwell (ofc) Masterlist

Summary: Why give her a diamond necklace, a perfume or a new dress, when you can pay a bail to free her from prison? Their valentine's day ended with her in jail, but if you ask Alfie the events that lead her to be there were really worth. And hot.

Warnings: None. Except mentions of misogyny.

Words: 1.1 k.

1912.

The police station was in silence except for the chief's voice who was dictating something to another man who was sitting in front a typewriter.

Name: Rose Elizabeth Coldwell.

Date of birth: 20 June 1888.

Age: 24.

Status: Married.

Name of partner: Alfred Solomons.

Charges: Disturbances in public space, fighting, injuring another civilian.

Murders: zero.

"For now, you fucking pig!" the woman in question, didn't finished what she had started.

"Shut your mouth, lady."

"The day you close your ass, idiot."

"Add 'offenses against authorities'" the chief said to his colleague before turning his head to her "anything else you want to say?"

In response, Rose just showed him her middle finger.

.

How she had ended in such situation was a great question. Supposedly, that very night she and her husband were ready to enjoy a romantic dinner to celebrate Valentine's Day.

A new elegant restaurant had opened its doors and Alfie had made a reservation for them. Musicians were playing a beautiful melody with their instruments when they arrived. A waiter received them and accompany them to their table. Lamb was their choice for that night.

The young couple have only been married for less than a year, so that Valentine's Day was especial. Alfie kissed her hand and she smiled at him.

"I love you"

"I love you, too."

That restaurant allowed couples to dance and they saw several of them enjoying that night. Once the dinner was over, Alfie said to her, they'd dance as well.

But that never happened.

Lost in their own world, Rose only knew what was happening around them when she heard a woman sobbing. In the table next to them, a man was threatening his partner.

"I'm sorry," she said trying not to make an scandal.

"You're a worthless whore, that's who you are. Nothing but a bitch."

"Steven, please… don't."

"Don't what? Whore."

Rose frowned. Not in valentine's night and not in front of her. Sadly, Alfie reacted too late.

"Excuse me," she said approaching the man "Are you Steven?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

Rose smiled at him warmly and repeated the question "Are you Steven?"

"…yes "

"Good! Because I have a present for you!"

"What present?"

"This one!" Rose punched his nose with such strength that immediately it started to bleed and the man screamed. Now the whole restaurant were looking at them.

"My nose, you fucking bitch! You broke it!" the man tried to grabbed her but he couldn't. Over the last months she learnt jiu-jitsu and before the man could realise what happened he was lying on the floor with Rose sat on his back. She was making a key lock with the arms.

"Now listen to me, you piece of shit," Rose said still immobilizing the man. "Your options are very limited. Or I break your arm along with your nose or you learn how to treat a woman, fucking worm. Don't blame your wife if you are fucking, fucking miserable man. If you mistreat her again, I'll find you and I hope you have kids because after I find you, your days as semental are over and you'll learn that a broken nose is nothing compared to have a knife decorating your dick, did you hear?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"What?"

"Yes, ma'am, yes. I swear never again!"

"Good."

Rose let him go at the same time police arrived. The man walked through the multitude not looking at anyone and following one of the officers. The girl who was mistreated by that man and Alfie stayed there.

"Who's she?"

"Me wife," Alfie said trying not to sound so proud, but he was. He knew that she trained in martial arts but he never saw her in action. And to be honest with himself that was hotter than he expected. Such a badass attitude was definitely something new for him. "My Rosie."

They didn't allow Alfie to pay the bail in that moment. They kept adding charges because Rose wasn't ready to let it go. A lioness kept in a cage was a perfect definition for the current situation.

"Fifty pounds, sweetheart," said Alfie when finally, the next morning, they freed her.

"Make it one hundred, you fucking bastards!" she said leaning against the counter. The chief looked at Alfie.

"Control your wife, Mr. Solomons."

"Why don't you control the poor, eh? That's something you do very well! Bastards, part of this oppressive system, I hope you…"

Still protesting, they left the police station. Well, Alfie left the building carrying his wife with him.

"Ok. Enough, we're going home." Alfie picked her up easily and put her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "Have a nice day, gentlemen."

"Let me down, Solomons!"

"No."

"What? Let me down!"

"No."

"Are you planning to walk with me over your shoulders until we get home?"

"Yes."

"People are watching us."

"Good."

"Have you considered to say anything else apart from monosyllables?"

"No."

Rose sighed while Alfie walked. There were no far away from their home and yet, Alfie indeed didn't seem to be ready to let her go. She accepted her fate. More than one in the streets looked at them amused.

"Nice ass," she said pitching his bottom while he was turning around the corner. She heard him laugh. "Did you enjoy the show last night? The bastard went to hospital and I heard policemen said that he didn't want to present charge but the cops had another idea. Assholes."

Alfie didn't talk until they arrived their home and only inside, he let her down. She fixed her dress while opened her mouth to keep talking.

"You…"

But her words remained in her mouth. Alfie put his lips over hers and was kissing his wife passionately.

"Yes, I saw the show last night and it was fucking hot…" Alfie started to unbuttoned his shirt, guiding her to their bedroom. "Next time, warned me about your skills, Rosie."

She giggled, hugging him by the waist. "I didn't know that was a turn on for you."

"Me neither."

The man grabbed her by the waist and laid over her in bed. "Next time," he said between kisses, "I'll take you with me when I have a meeting with fuckin' Sabini."

"If you want…" Rose beneath him, looked at her husband.

"Oh, I fucking want." Both of them kissed again.

Their romantic valentine's night had to wait until the next morning to be finish the way they wanted to finish it. But it was worth. That 1912, it was probably one of the most memorable valentine's date they ever had. Chaotic, for sure, but they were used to it.

Alfie knew he was married to a criminal, after all, she had stolen his heart.

[callmearcturus]

@icecreamvi replied to your post “Ok just finished rogue nation i think i liked...”:

I loved when they put the guy in the box

i loved when Ethan had a cute lil convo with the terminal agent at the start

i loved when ethan fixated on ilsa's shoes, and when ilsa tossed him the key but he couldn't fucking reach it so he just vaulted the pole, and the power of both of them barefoot and fighting in tandem

i loved every moment alec baldwin looked like an idiot

i loved all of Brandt's microexpressions (there are a lot)

i loved Benji just casually being able to completely clown on a lie detector test, the first of many hints that his competence has grown. also grown: his beard, and it looks amazing and soft

I loved "Hi Benji. Miss me?" like my god <3

I loved how Benji is GENUINELY INTO OPERA, we never get hints that he's a scifi or fantasy geek but we KNOW he is into classical music and live performance, that's so good

I loved Ilsa in the golden dress, esp the lil shorts underneath that are so functional

I loved Ethan vs a Tall Dude and how it genuinely alters how Ethan has to fight, and the desperation of his physicality, esp that double kick to the guy's chest, it's so GOOD

I love how Ilsa spots Benji once and saves his life bc everyone who lays eyes on Benji imprints on him

I love the car chase and how Ethan bodily searched Ilsa but it's not gross or weird, it's professional, I love it so much

I love the fucking scene between Ilsa and Solomon, the seething annoyance between them, the grit-teeth cooperation, I adore it. also just how she tossed the gun and how NOISILY it clatters on his sushi setting

(i'm gonna keep going )

I love that Simon Pegg pointed out that Benji is the only person allowed to yell at Ethan, and its GLORIOUS when it happens. i love Ethan's stunned little "okay" after and the microsmile he gives as he turns away.

I love Luther's role in the story, I really adore how Luther and Benji on paper have similar roles but in function they are just so different. Benji is a field tech, he has initiative and moves on his feet. Luther is better at the actual tech stuff, can do much more impressive feats, but doesn't have that same boots on the ground vibe. It's amazing.

I love Ethan and Benji's Morocco outfits. Ethan's in maybe his most colorful outfit of the series and I love it, and BENJI'S SHOOOOES.

I love Ilsa debriefing the boys and how cute they are and her expressions during it.

I love that Tom Cruise can hold his breath for fucking five to seven minutes and he freaked out the filming crew during the torus sequence.

I LOVE THE FUCKING WRITING CHOICE, THAT BENJI TELLS ILSA "I MISJUDGED YOU" RIGHT BEFORE SHE FUCKS HIM OVER. OH IT'S SO JUICY.

I love that in MI3, when Ethan came back from the bed he was immediately 'on' and ready, but in RN when he comes back from the dead, he's like. he's so fucked up l m a o.

I absolutely adore that when the script called for Ethan and Benji to get into the car, TC was like "I can't just get in the car" and then was like "I got it. roll cameras, I got it," and then improvised the moment when ethan faceplants off the car. And I love it bc I see myself in that technique, because it's a moment that had the potential to have Something, so he made sure it did. With a movie, you have 2 to 3 hours to tell a story and convey characters, and TC refuses to waste any of the moments, and I try my best to do the same with my writing, so I respect it.

I love the motorcycle chase but I'm a slut for all motorcycle scenes.

I love "Tell me you made a copy of that disk," "Of course I made a copy," the LOVE IN BENJI'S EYES. GOD.

I love Ilsa vs her shitty handler and the horror of how screwed she is, how you can watch the hope in her eyes die. Also the shake in her voice with "You bring me in," its amazing.

I love Brandt vs Ethan for the entire end of the story, the Bitchiness vs the Tiredness, it's tasty. Great chemistry.

The entire scene between Solomon and Ilsa in the graveyard is honestly gorgeous. The scenery, the camera pulled all the way back, the black slim look Lane has, Ilsa's amazing coat, the way they talk. I really adore that entire scene.

I love how Ethan doesn't think for a second about running away with Ilsa.

AND OF COURSE I LOVE THAT THEY TOOK BENJI. He's the damsel! And Ethan immediately loses it, he's out of his mind, yeah lets kidnap the fucking PRIME MINISTER, and how every time he tries to explain Lane, everyone else is like "ethan, u cray tho" I love Ethan's desperation, I feast on it.

I love how... Ethan memorized the fucking list. What a fucking batshit move. God.

I love Ilsa vs the Bone Doctor and how she rides his body the fuck down. THE WAY THAT RN KEEPS FUCKING WITH GENDER, like Ethan's play against Lane is a Wounded Gazelle Gambit, a very femme-coded move that fits with his MI1 history as a honeytrap, while Ilsa gets the extended fight scene.

I'M FORGETTING OTHER THINGS BUT I LOVE RN

not as much as I love Fallout tho

[rimeiii]

When an Arknights Doctor meets the WHB MC...

Summary: With tensions in Hell growing ever higher and the demons fighting from a disadvantage, even the descendant of Solomon Ryeomae finds herself desperate for a way to help. Her first aid lessons with Marbas have been going well and has proved to be valuable in a pinch, yet she feels it still isn't enough.

So when Leviathan somehow managed to pull three odd people from his coffin, one of them being a tactical commander, Ryeomae decides to take the opportunity to learn from them.

A question, though: How come Leviathan summoned an angel, a demon, and a little boy from what are usually worlds with Eldritch-like beings?

CW: Crossover with Arknights, purely self-indulgent. Potentially OOC. A product of malding over 12-20 Adverse as well as IS3 Ending 4, and a way to unwind before malding over Hortus de Escapismo's EX stages and the main story's H stages (need to clear those from Episode 8 onwards, end me now), because what do you mean the Damazti Cluster is in 3/4 of Episode 12's H stages.

For context, the enemy description:

As Uncle Kukki put it best: "Bro! Year 4 Arknights is fucked! What is this?!"

Back to the topic!

Using my own AK docsona (Dr. Requiescat) and WHB MC (Ryeomae). Suggestive themes up ahead considering WHB is an 18+ game, though nothing explicit is described. Regardless, please exercise caution.

Also, spoiler warnings for:

Arknights: Main story (up until chapter 12), revelations about the true nature of the Sankta, brief hints for Ending 4 of IS3 (Mizuki and Caerula Arbor)

WHB: Main story (up until chapter 4)

Waking up to yelling in Hades of all places was not something Ryeomae expected.

Leviathan's land has always struck the human as a refined one, after all. Never really outwardly violent and boisterous like other regions such as Gehenna, she always pegged Hades as the land of devotion towards its ruler, always maintaining the veneer of politeness that he always seems to exhibit. Restrained politeness it may be, as they are driven by envy, but politeness all the same.

Besides, the last time she heard panicked screaming was during their first aid operation when Leviathan was drenched by angel blood...

Oh, shit.

Bolting upwards from her bed (and ignoring the ache in her thighs), she immediately gets dressed before making her way towards the throne room, where she is certain Leviathan would be. She had half a mind to immediately go to the source of all that screaming, but she quickly reminded herself that she still doesn't know the castle's layout well enough to do so without getting hopelessly lost. Reporting to Leviathan would be the sanest course of action.

Walking briskly towards the demon king's throne room and giving customary polite smiles towards all the other demons passing by, Ryeomae wonders just how much work Leviathan is handling on his own. While it is true that demons in general have much more stamina compared to humans (how else would Leviathan still be awake while tending to her after multiple rounds with her), she still wonders how he still has the mental energy to complete paperwork - especially with the war against Heaven still going on.

It's probably just a demon king thing. Specifically Leviathan. Ryeomae concludes with a shrug. Best not to question it...hm?

Lost in her thoughts, Ryeomae now finds herself in front of Leviathan's throne room, her hands subconsciously already holding the doorknob. The imposing double doors, deep obsidian in color, never fails to send shivers down her spine - yet her trepidation immediately dissipates into thin air the moment she heard commotion beyond the door.

"Tell me. What other dimensions have you conquered, angel?"

"Oh for crying out loud-"

"At ease, Doctor. And technically speaking, she is not an angel, sir."

"And you're the one who summoned us, right?"

Ah. A summoning session gone wrong.

Yet something about all this seems off. Ryeomae can sense the aggression in Leviathan's voice, what with the low growl embedded in his normally silky smooth voice and the curt tone embedded in his speech. Which is weird - normally he is amiable with the Eldritch beings he summons into battle. What's making him be at odds with this group in particular?

No matter. Three sharp knocks on the door, and an announcement of her presence. "Leviathan, love, is everything alright in there?"

A beat of silence, before Leviathan's voice emerged once more. "Ryeo, go back to our room. I'll tend to you personally after I deal with them."

Wait, deal with them?!

"Leviathan, what's going on?!" Gone was the pretense of relative calm, with Ryeomae now desperately pushing against the double doors of the throne room. It inches forward bit by bit, which is the tiniest relief in what amounts to an emergency situation for her. "I'm coming in!"

"Ryeo, no! There's an angel-"

"What angel?! I'm a Sankta, Mr. Sarkaz sir!"

A lull, as everyone fully takes in the female's voice. An angel- no, Sankta, apparently. A term that even Ryeomae is unfamiliar with, coming from Earth, and a term she never heard any demon mention during her stay in Hell.

Ignoring Leviathan's bewildered response of "Sarkaz? What is that? I'm a demon king, miss," Ryeomae takes the opportunity to open the door fully, and freezes.

She comes face-to-face with the so-called Sankta - a young woman with a dark halo and similarly dark shards of light resembling wings extending from her back. Her hair, tied into a neat braid, is chestnut brown save for a stray tuft of black hair along her bangs - with a black cap covering the top of her head. Her eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses, are blood red, resembling Satan's eyes without the inverted crosses as well as the constant anger and lust burning in his eyes. The sight of angels in Hell has conditioned Ryeomae to recoil somewhat at the mere sighting of a halo, but that wasn't even the scariest part about the Sankta.

What's perhaps most terrifying about her, in fact, are the shards of black crystals emerging from her skin. They extend from her collarbone, dark lesions peeking from beneath her shirt, extending upwards up her neck before dispersing into tiny crystals on her left cheek.

All of a sudden, Ryeomae is reminded of the screams and wails spilling from Ppung's mouth. The angelification process, while still being much more horrific than these crystals, still proves to her that having unnatural objects burst from beneath your skin is a terrifyingly painful experience. And this Sankta lady must have been living with it...

Ryeomae's healer instincts kick in, and she immediately starts barking out orders.

"Miss! Stay still, I'll get medical aid your way! Your Majesty Leviathan, the first aid kit, ASAP! Contact someone to help us take her to Paradise Lost as well!"

"Eh- huh?!"

"Ryeo-"

"Shush, Leviathan! Something's wrong with her-"

"Calm down, miss-"

"What do you mean, kid-"

"Deep breaths, miss. I am Logos, and as the Doctor's closest confidant, I shall explain everything."

~

Doctor. A title that holds so much meaning in Rhodes Island (and not the place on Earth, but a pharmaceutical company in another world called Terra), but one that only retains its dictionary meaning elsewhere. A concept that Logos, a Sarkaz of the Banshee bloodline, feels the need to explain to the demons and human before him.

Dr. Requiescat is not only a neuroscientist affiliated with Rhodes Island working to find the cure for Oripathy, a fatal illness originating from the world they came from that even she contracted herself, she is also the tactical commander for all of Rhodes Island's on-field operative work. The dark ores Ryeomae sees on the Doctor are physical signs of Oripathy, and she's on medication to curb the disease's development. A medication that Mizuki, the young boy that arrived with them, gently reminded the Doctor to take, the Sankta asking for a glass of water to down the few tablets of medication.

The Doctor is a Sankta, not an angel. Sarkaz who were chosen by the Law to live according to it, and thusly viewed as a traitor to their own bloodline by many a Sarkaz. A legacy long forgotten by the Sanktas themselves, and one that the Doctor had to relearn through Logos as well.

"And you, Logos? You're a Sarkaz, right? You're not bothered by it?" Barbatos asks, eyes widening in awe. At some point, Leviathan's nobles have showed up in the throne room at their king's behest, and as a result there are now an additional four demons getting to know the three newcomers.

Logos shakes his head, his gaze softening as a faint smile paints his lips. "The Doctor has always been someone I can talk to easily, even before the Chernobog incident. Harsh in the battlefield she may be, moreso before the Chernobog incident, but she is still merciful and kind outside of battle."

Leviathan's pale eyes narrow, still not willing to completely believe the Banshee King's words. But the Doctor, already sensing the demon king's doubts, heaves a heavy sigh.

"I know I can't prove anything to you, sir. You just give off that...vibe, I suppose, is the word." Dr. Requiescat murmurs eventually. "But give us a reason why you can't fully trust us, if not just me, at the very least."

Barbatos, once again, is the one who answers them, an apologetic smile adorning his bright features. "We're in the middle of a war against the angels, miss. And our angels are very cruel, needlessly cruel even. You'll have to forgive us for not being able to trust you easily, miss."

The Doctor shrugs, taking Barbatos's words in stride. "Fair. Not all Sanktas are good either way - I think Federico mentioned something about going after someone, most likely Lateranian."

Logos nods in affirmation. "To my knowledge, he did. And on the other hand, the situation with the Sarkaz is quite complicated. It would take a long discussion of Terran politics and history to explain to people unfamiliar with it, but all you need to know is that we have had...conflicts regarding our ideals-"

"Your Majesty Leviathan! Angels have launched an attack on the city square!" A lesser demon barges into the throne room, panting and out of breath. He pauses to collect himself, before noticing the three newcomers in the room. "Your Majesty, who-"

"People you do not need to worry about." Leviathan replies curtly, motioning for everyone within the room to follow him. "Now come, all of you - get ready to fight."

He then turns to face the Sankta properly, his eyes narrowed menacingly.

"And you. This is your only chance to earn my trust, miss battlefield commander."

Yet the Sankta remains unfazed, her gaze hardening at the mention of a battlefield. "Copy that, demon king."

~

Having a seasoned battlefield commander helping to organize the demons' forces worked wonders in keeping everyone as safe as possible while ensuring their angelic enemies were all eliminated. And Ryeomae had to admit, she may have started to have a little crush on the Sankta for the near effortless way she directs Hades's forces. Easily directing them towards the main enemy forces, executing flawless pincer attacks against the angels, utilizing enemy blind spots and the terrain for sneak attacks...it was enough for her to earn the trust of the human, Leviathan, and his demons alike.

"The key to issuing effective battlefield commands is information control." Dr. Requiescat explains when Ryeomae asked the Doctor for any battlefield command tips. The pair, perched inside the top floor of an abandoned building, enjoyed a relatively expansive view of the battlefield - much wider than her usual position behind the brunt of the fighting. Logos and Mizuki were loitering around the area, the duo being tasked to protect Ryeomae and the Doctor from any sudden attacks, especially after the human mentioned how she was marked by Gabriel, making her a prime target for the angels. "How do you scout for information about the enemy while keeping your own forces in hiding until absolutely necessary? Such a skill is necessary while fighting off large hordes of enemies with a limited fighting force of your own."

In the Doctor's hands is her tablet, transmitting footage from the surveillance drones she had launched during the start of the operation. She points out one particular screen, where Ryeomae could see Heaven's forces getting ready to attack the area where Glasyalabolas was stationed in. "Look here. They may be getting ready to attack that small shop, but their formation is messy. Take out the leader and their entire group falls - Glasyalabolas, enemies inbound at 10 o'clock! Leader at the front!"

"I see them. Engaging the enemies." Glasyalabolas's deep voice reverbs from Ryeomae's earpiece, and soon after, his large and imposing frame already has his coffin out, now engaging with the enemy leader. His own forces focus on picking off any other angels trying to get him off the enemy leader.

Ryeomae watches in awe as the angels' formation crumbles upon the enemy leader's defeat. This was far from the first time she saw the Doctor effortlessly dismantle a group of enemies, yet it never fails to impress her. Taking notes of the Doctor's tactics, Ryeomae figures she'd be able to apply them later on, in case she is needed to help command the demons.

"It helps that these angels are...sloppy." The Doctor snorts, a tiny smirk on her features. "Even Reunion's forces are much more organized than them - no offense to Patriot and FrostNova whatsoever, since their forces are actually pretty organized. And here I thought angels were supposed to be the organized forces..."

Ryeomae scoffs. "You'd be surprised, Doctor. But that means you're used to fighting in disadvantageous situations like this?"

Surprisingly, the Doctor's expression softens considerably, gaining an almost melancholic tone to it. "Yeah. In Chernobog, Lungmen, and now Victoria, we were always on the back foot. And down in the future, should the Seaborn invasion happen, we will always remain on the back foot. You...get used to it, eventually."

Seaborn...?

"Something that you shouldn't worry about, Ms. Ryeomae." Mizuki chimes in, a bright smile on his youthful features as he no doubt notices the confusion etched onto Ryeomae's expression. He then approaches the Doctor and pats her shoulder comfortingly. "And something that you also shouldn't worry about, Doctor. I have faith we won't stumble upon that terrifying future!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mizuki." Dr. Requiescat smiles faintly, before diverting her attention to Ryeomae once more. "Anyways, it does help that most of these angels don't use a lot of different modes of attack. Most of our forces have long-ranged modes of attack to snipe their forces down as well, so..."

Ryeomae smirks, reminded of a certain fluffy-haired demon king of wrath. "If you thought this was long-ranged, you'd love seeing what the demons of Gehenna are capable of."

The Doctor shrugs, completely unperturbed, and Ryeomae finds it in herself to be offended in Gehenna's behalf. "We have people able to command drones that can attack at any point in the battlefield. And apart from that, we have snipers like Ambriel and Fartooth, able to hit the most unexpected of places. Fun fact: one of our drone users, Goldenglow, is a hairdresser."

Now it's Ryeomae's turn to fall completely silent, before erupting into confused yelling. "What do you mean, hairdresser?! I-"

"Get down, Doctor, miss!" Mizuki yells, summoning his tentacles to strike at something attempting to crash into the window in front of them. The Doctor curses under her breath, pushing Ryeomae behind her as she shields the human with her body. Logos is immediately beside her, his incantation Arts causing trails of light to flutter around them both.

But this 'something' manages to evade Mizuki's tentacles, deftly maneuvering around the neurotoxin-laden appendages. It forces its way into the building, coming face-to-face with Logos. Thankfully, the Banshee has already finished charging up his attack, launching it towards the infiltrator and sending him careening into the wall opposite them.

When the dust settles, Ryeomae could see that the crumpled-up angel had short white hair, bangs covering the right side of his face, his one visible eye sending her a murderous glare.

Ryeomae feels a chill run down her spine. Gabriel.

Her grip on the Doctor's shoulders unconsciously tightens, and she shrinks into herself, attempting to make herself as scarce as possible. Were it be any of the other demon kings who's with her right now, Gabriel likely wouldn't be targeting her, purely because of the sheer strength the demon kings have. Mizuki and Logos are strong, yes, but she's not sure if they're as strong as any of the demon kings.

And yet, the three newcomers to Hell are as unperturbed as ever.

"Huh. I can see why you hate the angels now. Reckless and violent little shits, aren't they?" The Doctor comments, frowning as she stares at the recovering Gabriel. "Still, though. Neither tact nor strategy. None whatsoever. Divebombing without a care, really? Who is he, Kevin?"

"Doctor..." Logos sighs, tapping the Sankta's shoulder blade insistently. "Focus. Please."

The Doctor had the decency to look the slightest bit abashed, at the very least. "Sorry, Logos. Force of habit."

Logos nods once in acknowledgement as he diverts his attention back towards Gabriel. Without missing a beat, he charges up another spell, allowing his Arts to form streams of light encircling them all. A shield of sorts, if you will.

And perfect timing, too, as Gabriel whips out his scythe and slashes forwards, the blade clashing with Logos's shield.

Gabriel's eyes are murderous as he holds the Doctor's gaze, boring holes into the Sankta's head. She keeps her cool and stares back at the furious angel, however. The lack of fear in the Doctor's eyes must have set Gabriel off even more as he growls menacingly, his arms applying even more pressure on the barrier Logos erected between them, muscles straining beneath his pristine shirt. Logos's Arts shield starts to emit sparks, causing anxiety to shoot up Ryeomae's spine - what if it breaks?

Yet the Doctor remains calm, stoic - unimpressed, almost.

And loathe as Ryeomae is to admit it, that scares the living shit out of her - even more than the potential of the Arts shield breaking, even more than Gabriel's presence in front of her.

"You are an angel, no?" Gabriel growls out, the darkness and malice in his voice unlike any Sankta the Doctor must've been familiar with, considering how one of her eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Yet he doesn't seem to notice her reaction, continuing on what he believes must be a righteous tirade. "Why, then, are you siding with these demons?"

Dr. Requiescat heaves a heavy sigh as her fingers twitch, desperately fighting off the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration - a bad habit she had described to Ryeomae during their downtime between angel attacks. "How many times do I have to explain to you all?! I'm a Sankta, not an angel!"

Gabriel doesn't seem to be too keen to inquire upon the unfamiliar term that confused the residents of Hades only a few hours ago. Instead, his growl grows even more murderous, pressing his scythe downwards even more. Logos narrows his eyes, his Arts struggling against the force Gabriel is applying onto the barrier.

And yet, as sudden as Gabriel's attack was, so was his sudden collapse at the hands of Mizuki's neurotoxin-laden tentacles.

The angel's mouth hangs open, a scream of pain lodged in his throat as he feels his body seize up involuntarily, muscles contracting so painfully it practically paralyzed him completely and inadvertently causing him to drop his scythe with a dull clatter. Amid the angel's fixation on the Sankta and Sarkaz duo, the young boy had managed to slip away unnoticed, stabbing Gabriel's body with his tentacles and injecting a paralyzing neurotoxin into the angel's flesh. He retreated his tentacles the moment he saw Gabriel go down, a smile on his boyish features as he looks down on his downed adversary.

"Get away from them, please."

Ryeomae can feel the shiver that ran through Gabriel's back at the threat, and even she feels terrified of the boy right in front of her.

Not just that. The calm yet eerie smile on Mizuki's features, the way the light seems to cast his face in an unsettling shadow, the gentle and borderline pacifying tone of his voice despite the damage he has done all on his own - all a sharp contrast to the seemingly bright and innocent boy he seemed to be mere moments earlier. She could've sworn she saw the silhouette of what seemed to be a large, jellyfish-like abomination eclipsing Mizuki for a brief second, but maybe that's just her fear talking.

"I would suggest listening to Mizuki." The Doctor replied, maintaining her cool facade. But Ryeomae could hear the slight change in the inflections of her voice, the slightest tremors creeping its way into her words - a sort of threatening contralto. "Wouldn't want him to completely destroy you now, do we?"

And it was at this moment that Ryeomae realized:

Perhaps these people's struggles were infinitely harsher than her own.

~

Not long after the skirmish, Leviathan found a way to transport the Terrans back to their home world - a revelation that brought much relief to the Terran trio. As far as the demons and the human were concerned, the three Rhodes Island personnel had their own wars to fight, most if not all requiring the assistance of the Doctor. With many unfamiliar terms such as "Seaborn threat", "Londinium Crisis", "the Damazti Cluster's spies", and more, Ryeomae can't help but wonder just how the Doctor was able to handle everything without breaking down.

It made her feel insignificant, in a way. Here she was, a defenseless human, whose only value she actively provides for the demons is the ability to break the pacts her late ancestor had formed with them. Sure, sometimes the demon kings defer to her to organize attacks, but even then she tended to lose sight of most sneak attacks. Dr. Requiescat's tips were necessary for her to be able to control the battlefield, she believes, but the fact that she even needed those tips in the first place...

It didn't help that the trio revealed several more bombshells about Dr. Requiescat after their skirmish with Gabriel, quickly leaving the area while the angel was still immobilized. She's an amnesiac, for one, and she was immediately forced into a commander role the moment she awakened from a coma. When the Doctor was out of earshot, Logos revealed, rather regretfully, that he never wanted to see the Doctor enter the battlefield, didn't want her to walk the bloody path of war ever again. But the reality still stands that she never had a choice to begin with, and he's infinitely grateful that her memories were locked behind the amnesia.

"I do not think she would be able to forgive herself if she were to remember the atrocities she had to commit prior to her amnesia." Logos smiled wryly, sadly gazing at the Doctor as she inspected the portal that would take the three Rhodes Island personnel back to Terra.

Ryeomae counts herself lucky that her life hadn't been filled with such cruelty and bloodshed. And ironically, unbeknownst to Logos, the statement eased the feeling of insignificance in her heart - her life was relatively more peaceful prior to everything, so it's perfectly fine to not be as prolific as the Doctor. Because the Doctor, despite her medical background, had her hand forced to become what seemed to be a truly despicable figure, all in order to achieve the things she and her faction sought to achieve.

Ryeomae should have been disgusted, yet she feels nothing but sympathy for Logos and the Doctor.

Not long after the two were reacquainted, Logos gave the Doctor a bottle of his own hand-crafted aromatics, made for her and only her. She uses it sparingly, keeping the bottle close to her at all times. He had already given several bottles to her prior to her amnesia, he revealed with a tiny, yet melancholic smile on his lips.

Ryeomae couldn't help the feeling that the Doctor meant so much more to the Banshee than she initially believed, with the reverse holding true if the Doctor's tiny gestures of affection were to be believed. A gentle hand on his shoulders, the subtlest hints of fondness as she gazes at him. Even in her amnesiac state, she still remembers the emotions, the affections she held for Logos.

It's as beautiful as it is tragic.

So, Logos's parting words for Ryeomae are this: for her to cherish the people she loves and the time as well as memories she has with them, as you do not know if they'll be ripped away from you without any prior notice. Ryeomae's eyes linger at Leviathan at his reminder, recalling the twisted yet somehow endearing methods he employed to get her to stay by his side - the initial threats and kidnapping, turning into her gradual acclimation towards Hades and the demon king of envy.

But deep inside, her heart lies with the man who became her lifeline after her parents' untimely deaths - Kim Minhyeok, who was surely waiting for her back on Earth, who was still worrying his ass off over her despite being worlds away from her.

With Minhyeok in mind, she decides to take Logos's parting words to heart.

Mizuki remains a mystery to Ryeomae, but one thing remains certain - the kid must've been some sort of Eldritch being from the deep sea, which would explain how Leviathan was able to access his world in the process. Yet nothing about how Mizuki normally carries himself reminds her of a monster, what with his bright smiles and genuine care for the Doctor. His constant reminders for the Doctor to take her medicine, making sure the Doctor is away from most harm, fighting beside Logos to keep her safe...perhaps he has seen the Doctor as an elder sister figure, someone who he wants to keep safe and well. Again, something that Ryeomae wouldn't even dare to expect from an Eldritch being, seeing as most of her experiences with Eldritch beings come from the monsters Leviathan summons from his coffins - terrifying, savage beasts capable of ripping through enemies with impunity. His parting words were a bright and energetic reminder to keep fighting for what is right, yet another confusing part about the boy. Of course, she would take his words to heart, but how can an Eldritch being be such a paragon of justice?

She doesn't feel like it's necessary to question it, however.

And finally, the Doctor, who already feels like an elder sister to her. All gentle smiles and knowing looks, she ruffles Ryeomae's hair affectionately and tells her to keep her advice close to her. That Ryeomae will succeed, and she will return to Earth all safe and sound, because she has good and strong allies that are willing to fight for what they believe is right. All they need is a gentle push from her, and they can achieve what they set out to achieve in the first place, whatever it may be.

"You have influence here. Use it well." The Doctor nods in the demons' direction. Barbatos catches her gaze, and he grins brightly in her direction. Seems like he enjoys the Doctor's more laidback personality, and Ryeomae had the same sentiments as him. "You told me you have someone to return to, and that the demons all genuinely do care for you. So fight for them, to complete your deal and repay their care for you. Fight, and return to the one you want to return to. Your home."

Ryeomae has to wonder if, truly, the Doctor really was an amnesiac. The way she talked had weight, a flicker of seniority despite her seemingly youthful features. Yet she was easygoing - certainly not to the point of abandoning her post like Beelzebub, but easygoing nonetheless. She seemed a lot like Satan, in a sense, yet she was always in full control of her emotions, masterfully wielding them to her own gain. There is simply no way someone who had so few memories of their life could speak in such a way, behave in such a manner.

Oh well. No time to ponder, as Leviathan announces that the portal is ready. Mizuki beams as he rushes over towards the portal, while both Logos and Dr. Requiescat trail behind him, all quiet murmurs and gentle smiles. The young boy turns around and waves goodbye enthusiastically, while Logos and Ryeomae say their farewells in a much more reserved manner.

"Bye, everyone!"

"Thank you for your hospitality."

"Who knows - there's a chance we might meet again in the future!"

Leviathan, at the very least, doesn't seem too opposed to the idea - a rare sight, considering how he's usually so prone to jealousy. Though perhaps, seeing just how much of an asset the Terrans were to Hades convinced him far more than words could ever serve to do. "So long as you come in support of Hades, we will welcome you with open arms."

The Doctor grins widely before turning towards Logos and Mizuki. "Ready, you two?"

"Ready!"

"Lead the way, Doctor."

Ah, they're really going now- huh?!

For the briefest of moments, while the Terrans hop into the portal, the Doctor's cap lifted from the top of her head, exposing a tiny pair of demon horns. And at the exact same time, a similarly dark, slim demon tail slipped out from beneath her shirt - so well-hidden after all this time.

But before she could call the Doctor back, the portal closed off completely, leaving Ryeomae, Leviathan, Foras, Barbatos, and Glasyalabolas in a shocked stupor.

Barbatos is the first one to recover. "Well...that might explain why she was so willing to help us."

Leviathan collects himself next, frowning contemplatively. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"I agree with His Majesty Leviathan." Foras speaks up next. "The Doctor was a mysterious person, and while she did help us, we never really knew of her true intentions. Was it out of duty? Kindness? Or perhaps, the threat from His Majesty?"

"And don't forget, their land doesn't recognize 'angels' and 'demons' like we do. She's a Sankta, and that Logos person was a Sarkaz." Glasyalabolas added, earning affirmative responses from everyone in the room.

All the while, Ryeomae is silent.

She does feel the kindness emanating from the Doctor throughout the skirmish against Gabriel and his forces, that much is true. It was easy to latch on to the Doctor as a figure worthy to look up to, as the mature yet laid-back Sankta she was. Easily commanding the battlefield, like a chessmaster thinking many steps ahead - yet laid-back when necessary, joking around with everyone around her. Shielding Ryeomae behind her despite not looking like she wields any sort of weapon for self defense.

But the demons have a point, and the Doctor herself is still shrouded in mystery. Sure, she may have acted off the goodness of her own heart, but doesn't that come into odds with how Logos described her, prior to her amnesia? Yet Logos still believes that the Doctor is kind at heart - was he blinded by his emotions, or was he truly being objective? And sure, she may have said she was a Sankta, but weren't demon horns and demon tails the signature features of Sarkaz? Shards of light for wings and a halo, with demon horns and a demon tail...both sets of features on the same person?

Just...who are you, really, Dr. Requiescat?

~

BONUS: a visual representation and brief description of the Doctor and Ryeomae! (neka link here)

1. Dr. Requiescat (Arknights Docsona, real name Luciel. Halo, wings, tail, and Originium crystals not pictured)

Doctor of Rhodes Island, presents herself as a Fallen Sankta due to a lingering sense of guilt, of having wronged someone she cared about back before the sarcophagus. Despite the sarcophagus seemingly resetting her body, in turn clearing her memories and healing her wounds, her Oripathy still remains - nobody knows why. She acts kind and upbeat, but she still questions if that's really her, especially as more and more revelations of her past comes into light. But, after the revelations about her identity (as revealed in Lone Trail), she holds a phrase close to her heart: I am me, just as I always have been.

2. Ryeomae

Solomon's descendant, a 24-year-old young woman who has a degree in literature and is currently working part-time as a barista while looking for a more permanent employment. She lives with Minhyeok, her childhood friend. They both secretly harbor feelings for each other - something her bandmate, friend, and ex Hana-chan easily takes notice of, considering he always sets them up. Both craves and is uncomfortable with the demons' overwhelming care and attention towards her.

(honestly they could really pass off as twins if not for the fallen sankta features the doctor has and their different colored eyes)

[lesbolordo]

G'day r u aight ? Cuz I'm not.

The Hogwarts Legacy fandom lacks something. Very much.

Where the fuck are my genderbent meow meows ??? I want to see Seb with big tatas and Ominis with pretty nice thighs in witch I can die between-

I want to see Poppy as a cute beast lover boy and Imelda as a hot Quidditch player wtf ?

Urh, so much potential wasted 😔

Anyway I tried genderbending Sebinis thinking about that.

I made several headcanons about them because I have nothing to do with my life but think about Women.

Sebastian :

If Sebastian was a girl, I'd have no name for her. Really. What is the female version of Sebastian ? Urh.

Anyway, if she was a girl Anne would be a boy, obviously.

I feel like Sebby would be a chubby-buff girl. She's strong in all third ways : Is a bit round and could beat your ass with and without magic.

She was very close to her dad and so she hates Solomon even more after her parents die.

I feel like one summer she suddenly got curves and took some weight and Solomon -being Solomon- was too awkward to ask her her new size of clothes so he just tried something : spoilers, all of her clothes are too small but she doesn't seem to care much and since she only hangs out with Ominis -blind mf- nobody really tells her that her shirt is begging for help, threatened by her big tatas.

Honestly, girl or boy, Sebastian would beat your ass -or try to. He's not one to differentiate boys from girls after all.

Often deemed unladylike, "behaves like a boy". She doesn't care, she never will, move on.

She's self conscious about her height -even Masc! Seb is to me- and so she lies about being 160 cms tall when she actually is 159 cms tall. I see some Poppy inside of her, small but feisty... I think that these two would be friends, boy or girl.

"Fuck around find out."

Hates dresses. Unpractical. Ugly. She will wear dresses only for Ominis. End of the discussion.

What is going on with her hair ? No one knows. Legend has i that in the morning if you pay enough attention, you can hear the birds that accidentally got caught in it

She'd wear the boys uniform.

Ominis :

Even as a girl Ominis is the mom friend. Always looks worried and tired, but don't worry she could very well beat your ass if she wanted to.

Unlike Sebastian she comes from an aristocratic family and so she behaves "properly" for a lady, but only because it's the only thing her parents await from her : As a woman she is deemed less important -Ominis hates it- but at the same time they leave her alone most of the time.

I do not have a name for Fem!Ominis but she could step on me either way.

Fabulous lashes™️.

She may be taller, but only because all of her damn curves went into her height : flat as a wall, no ass, and very much thin like her masc version. Her depression may be chronic, but her ass is microscopic.

Speaks well, could end your career with words, won't be afraid to do so. But don't you dare bring your fists to the fight, because Sebastian is always behind to save Ominis from breaking a nail -and committing murder.

Pretty hair in appearance, but do not touch it. Under. Any. Circonstances. I'll let you ponder why. Her mother loves to put ugly hats or accessories in her hair, Ominis hates it but apparently Sebastian finds it funny and pretty, so she leaves it on. Being blind, she learned very early one way to style her hair and now she ALWAYS uses it. Because she doesn't know any better.

Long elegant pianist fingers, just like her boy version. Can and will use them to either hurt you or make Sebastian cu- Cuts her nails short. More like Sebastian does it, Ominis lies saying that she can't see she can't do it herself -Sebastian believes it.

Doesn't mind dresses. Prefers comfortable clothes, may be girls or boys.

"God let me live another day. And I'm about to cry about it."

She's tall -both for a girl and a boy- but she knows Sebastian is self-conscious about her height so they don't talk about it.

She'd wear the girl's uniform.

Now that I'm done please do give me genderbent! HLC. Especially Fem! Versions because I love women.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[nighthaterfrfr]

i don't bite (well, maybe that's a lie)

[it rotted my brain so much that i couldnt resist. thank u @jben073 for helpin me w the ending, my writing still sucks but wtvr... look lets make it modern bc im not doing research on old shit. my brains small so i dont wanna make it smaller. @wispexists made this beautiful art, check it pls pls pls its so good

anwho here it is

OH TW FOR BLOOD BEFORE I FORGET (vampire.. duh) ]

People's blood is a very sacred thing. In many religions, it's often considered the life of a human. Yet, it's something vampires need for sustenance. Most consider vegan diets, and some just become full on killers when too unregulated.

Stephanie Lauter is unfortunately, a vampire. From what she overhears, her dad made some deal with eldritch gods, and that's why she's here. Solomon Lauter hates his daughter, but she hates him back too. However, to not expose this secret to the public, he helps get Steph's cravings in check by supplying her with animal blood.

Yet, it's never a filling meal. She hasn't had a proper, enriching, bit of human blood in such a long time. Not since middle school. But never in a million years did she expect to drink the blood of the pastor's daughter, Grace Chasity.

Nor did she expect how delicious the blood would be.

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

Every other day, Steph spends her nights at the old Waylon Hall. Hearing all the rumors about the place, it doesn't seem so bad. It's just really fucking abandoned and creepy. Nonetheless, a few candles and fairy lights powered by battery packs make the house look a lot less evil.

This night, she decided to bring more and more of her belongings into the living room. Yeesh, it's a damn mess. She swept the floor with an old broom she found in a janitorial closet, suited most likely for a maid. The more Steph cleaned up the hall, the more she liked that it became kind of her own hideaway. A very eerie home away from home.

After a few hours of just generally cleaning and decorating the main room, she smiled. For once her life, Stephanie Lauter had made something she was proud of. How fun.

Suddenly, she heard an opening from the front door.

For the months she had spent going here, no one had dare even approach the Hall's grounds. So who the fuck seems brave enough to wander in the most "haunted" place in all of Hatchetfield?

Who the fuck..

Steph had hid in some big closet in the room, and took a look at the girl trespassing in her space. In which she was also trespassing in. The girl wore a light blue sweater and a white button up underneath. She wore a brown skirt, white socks and Black Mary Janes. She had rolled up the sleeves of both the button up and the sweater and had her hair in a side part.

Look, she was already in a silk dress meant for sleeping, and she did not want to be disturbed by some girl. However, something just... attracted her. Steph sniffed something good. Better than the "wagyu cow blood" her dad ended up getting to satisfy the urges. Shit, this came from the girl, didn't it?

God- it smelled so good. That feeling of hunger filled Steph's mind and triggered her vampiristic instincts. She need to feed, fast.

As the girl turned her back, Steph quietly came out of the closet she was hiding him. Walking towards the back of her, she saw that her neck was wide open. Thank god for people parting their hair sideways. As she was about to feed, she snapped back to reality, wobbling back and falling on the floor. Of course, the girl turned around, and looked right at Steph.

"Oh my- who are you? What are you doing out here so late?"

The girl put a hand out, and Steph took it. She quickly responded, "I suppose I could ask you the same question, but I don't think I'll get an answer. I'm Steph." "Grace. My father and I were seeing the house earlier, and I left my 'What Would Jesus Do?' bracelet here." Steph nodded as her eyes are remained on Grace's neck and forearms. They sure do look appealing.

Grace yawned, and ended up sitting on the floor. Steph had already placed some sort of old mattress on there, and simply covered with a bedsheet. "Man, I gotta bike back..." Steph looked at the girl while she complained, and smirked slightly. With an alluring look in her eyes, she turned Grace's head to look at her. "Ah, it's alright. Rest here for a bit, I won't bite."

Grace looked nervous at the offer. She had to go home, she wanted to go home. Yet, this girl... Steph, she just drew her in. Before she knew it, her mouth muttered the words yes, and the two kept on staring at each other. "Now Grace, I have to ask you a question. Do you know anything about vampires and the like?"

"...no? If it's some kind of like, band fans, then I have no idea about them."

Steph looked shocked at this admission, and tried to think through how she'll phrase this properly. In order to charm a human properly, you first need a good approach, don't you?

"Ok then. A vampire is.. a creature who preys on human blood. They usually hate the sunlight, garlic, and silver. Got it?" Grace nodded. "I do. How come you're telling me this?" "Will you believe me if I say that I am a vampire?"

Grace looked confused at the question. Was this girl playing some kind of cruel trick with her? But, like God commanded, answer truthfully. "Why would I? You sound kind of insane right now." Steph smirked, opening her mouth and baring her fangs. They're way too sharp and long to be just a regular humans, and she put her hair back behind her pointed, pierced ears. Grace looked a bit scared, she's never seen a person like this, but regardless, she wanted to know more.

Something keeps telling her she wants to know more.

"And look, Grace. I'm quite hungry right now. Would you mind if I.. just got a bit of your blood~?"

Steph asked, leaning closer towards Grace. The closer she got, the redder the other girl's face was. She then pushed her away slightly, hesitance in her voice. "I... I don't- will it hurt?" "Probably, Gracie. Do you want me to comfort your boo boo, then?" Grace blushed even more, unsure what this feeling is towards the mysterious girl and confused as to what's happening.

Look, Grace had some strong willpower. That's what you have when your dad's the town pastor, after all. However, when she offered her arm to Steph, who's presumably a "vampire," that might be the complete opposite fact. "Go- just take what you need..."

The vampire widened her eyes. From stories she's heard, people need a lot more convincing. But this pretty girl just offers up her arm and blood? Hey, at least it was easy to get a meal for Steph today.

She took Grace's arm gently, placing it near her mouth. Jesus, the smell of the blood really came out. Her mouth almost watered at simply the smell, but why sniff it instead of tasting it?

Steph's fang suck into the arm, Grace wincing slightly from the pain. As she sucked the blood, she couldn't believe the taste. She couldn't believe how energized she was. And she couldn't believe how insatiable the feeling was from getting this girl's blood was.

Grace watched as Steph sucked the blood out of her arm. It was a bit painful, but is it weird to say it somehow made her extremely tired and excited? She could see her blood dripping down her arm as Steph eagerly feasting on her. It's scary, but it's somehow so attractive at the same time. She could easily pull away- it's not even like she's forcing her too.

It's just that... the feeling in her stomach that she gets from simply seeing this girl means letting Steph doing whatever she wanted. After a few minutes of silence and blood sucking, Steph lifted her head from Grace's forearm, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

As Grace slowly put her arm down, Steph looked at her, longingly and hungry for more. Steph quietly said, "Do you- do you feel ok? Are you too hurt?" The other girl nodded no, and Steph stood up, walking around the room. On top of the fireplace, she rummaged through a little box and found a roll of bandages. Tearing a long piece of it off with her teeth, Steph began to tightly wrap the fabric onto Grace's forearm.

The feeling of Steph wrapping her arm with the bandage, hell the feeling of the wound itself? It all felt numb. Grace Chasity couldn't feel anything ever since Stephanie Lauter sucked her blood. All she knows is that it felt so damn good.

Finally tying the bandage off, Steph leaned back from Grace, letting her sit up. "Alright, let's see.." Steph stared into her eyes, rolling down both the button up and sweater sleeves, covering both of her arms. She stood up, offering a hand out to Grace so that she can also stand up beside her, "Now, I'm sorry pretty girl, but you can't remember this.. for a while. However," Steph paused for a second, twirling a big strand of Grace's hair.

"I have a feeling we'll meet again, won't we? You're of course, drawn to me, but somehow I am too. Even without drinking your blood, something intrigues me about you, Grace. Come back here next time, won't you~?"

As she let go of the other girl's hair, Grace simply smiled and started walking out. Steph hated the charm ability vampires had as she saw the girl leave. Sure, it benefits both her and the person who she charmed because now whoever she targets will have no recollection of what she's done. Yet, something about Grace made her want to have her remember tonight. She wanted Grace to recognize her face and know who left that mark on her forearm. Oh well, what can a girl like her do?

Sighing and lying on the mattress, she closes her eyes. That was good, no, great blood. That's settled. Great blood comes from the prettiest people. Who knew?

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

Grace Chasity woke up the next day, in her bed and feeling somewhat extra tired. It was.. 2 in the afternoon? Huh. As she stood up and walked to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. She didn't change at all from when she came back home yesterday from school. Thank goodness it was a Saturday, or else she would've gotten in big trouble with her parents.

As she turned on the faucet, she rolled up her sleeves so that the water wouldn't soak the fabric. The more she rolled her sleeves up, the more she saw that on her right arm, bandages tightly covered her forearm. Well that's.. odd.

Stopping for a minute, she pondered over how she got the bandage on her wrist. Staring at the blood covered and hastily wrapped fabric, Grace shook it off and began to start washing her face.

Eh, she must've fell while riding her bike.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #15

Belphegor: Standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak like “look at this fucking flower. This flower is taller than I am. This flower is winning and I’m losing.”

Satan: Wow you are not ready to hear about trees

•

Mammon: Hey guys I’m making French toast sticks in the oven. I’m gonna take a quick nap wake me up in five minutes so I can flip them over

Lucifer: Mammon, it’s been five minutes flip your sticks

Mammon: Snnnnzzz

Beelzebub: MAMMON YOUR STICKS

•

Mammon: Why are shorts called shorts but pants aren’t called longs

Solomon: She wears short shorts I wear long longs

MC: She’s cheer cheerer and I’m on the sit sits

•

Leviathan: The internet is for cowboys only

Www ? Stands for wild Wild West

•

Mephistopheles: I have been sitting in this Burger King for four hours

Beelzebub: They don’t come to take your order you have to go to the counter

•

Mammon: I wanna be a reverse tooth fairy where I rob people and then scatter human teeth on their bed

Solomon: A dentist

MC: I don’t know what your dentist is doing to you but I think you need to go to the police

•

Leviathan: Beauty and the best but in reverse. I kiss the love of my life and she turns into a sick fucking monster and it’s awesome

Mammon: Shrek.

Leviathan: Never mind post cancelled.

•

Solomon: 63 earths can fit inside Uranus

Mammon: One day I’ll be mature enough to read this without laughing

•

Simeon: If you think about it maybe and maybe not means the same thing

Satan: What the fuck have you done

•

MC: I fell in love with him the way ketchup falls out of a bottle. Slowly and then all at once.

Mammon: Oh my god you managed to one up John Green.

•

MC: In the 7th grade I went to see a movie with a boy and in the middle of it he was like “do you wanna kiss” and I was like “excuse me” and he pulled a bag of Hershey’s kisses out of his coat

Asmodeus: DO YOU REALIZE WHAT A GOOD BACKUP PLAN THAT IS

•

Diavolo: Why aren’t there friend pick up lines?

Pick up lines to make friends

Like: Hey that a cute dress, you know where it would look better? On nobody else because you’re a beautiful individual.”

Belphegor: Be my friend or I’ll set your family on fire

Michael: There are two types of people

•

Solomon: Just because you’re trash doesn’t mean you can’t do great things. It’s called garbage can not garbage cannot.

Leviathan: I have found my senior quote.

•

Mammon: If no one comes from the future to stop you from doing it then how bad a decision can it really be?

Belphegor: #new life motto

MC: I think this will be my graduation quote

•

Diavolo: Hey I’ve never had a nightmare before and kinda wanna know what they’re like, can you help me out?

Raphael: Sure! See you soon

•

Mammon: I hate the term spinal fluid it conjures up horrible imagery in my mind

(Lightly taps a spigot I have attached to my spinal column) come get y’all juice

Dantalion: We’ve never met and I hope it stays that way

Mammon: This is the most powerful reply I’ve ever received

•

Belphegor: I will kill you: basic threat; overused; lacks serious weight

Pee your pants: up-and-coming; respectable; unexpected

I will pee your pants: full of promise of grief and terror; absolutely devastating

Solomon: Your pants can’t wait for my pee

Mammon: And here we have it, the most terrifying sentence in the universe

[tearsofalonelyprince]

The Boys as bus drivers [Celestial Remix]

Hey Gamers! Today I’m surviving off of 3 hours of sleep, spite, and blasting “It’s My Party” on repeat so I thought I’d give you even more of our boys as bus drivers while I’m still at work! If you haven’t seen the first part [ click here ]

Diavolo

He goes slightly above the speed limit at all times

Does not care for rude people and has kicked several off the bus before

If he’s a school bus driver he brings snacks for major holidays

Has told corporate to “fuck off”

The people like him and he’s been working there too long to get fired easily

He’s a supervisor

Will tell you to stop cursing and stop standing.

Plays the “cool” radio stations to be hip with the kids

8/10 I would want him as my substitute bus driver

Barbatos

LMAO THIS MAN WOULD NEVER DRIVE A BUS

He’s a bus monitor

The kids respect him because he doesn’t nag them

He has yelled only once. To stop a brawl.

The kids started crying.

He apologized and told them he didn’t want them to “get written up”

They thought he was chill after that

He sometimes just comes in dressed up fancy as hell

Several people in the yard have a crush on him

He always says he is taken

No one can figure out who he’s “taken” by. It’s the gossip of the bus lot

Somehow is never late?? Even to last minute bus changes

9/10 because there’s no way parents and drivers both don’t fight over him being on their bus

Now on to the Celestials

Simeon

He says good morning to you every morning.

He warns you when he’s gonna run in to traffic

If you don’t have enough money and you’re his regular, he will cover for you.

He will work as a school bus driver on the side just to ensure the kids are safe.

That being said, there is absolutely NO CURSING on his bus.

There is no tomfoolery either! You either behave or get off.

The only exception is if you’re 5 or have any sort of stims or tics that you quite literally can’t stop

He has yelled at passengers for being mean to other passengers before

If a kid is sad he tells them he thinks that they are a ✨star✨

Is pleasant to almost everyone on the lot

He and Barbatos have a rivalry to be the most liked person in the bus yard

9/10 he’s just a generally nice fellow who doesn’t like bullies on his bus

Michael

He has beef with every other driver

He steals routes

His timing is always the same

But he will drive away as you’re running to the stop

Lucifer was trained by him

He then proceeded to get Lucifer’s promotion to supervisor taken away once he deemed Lucifer too good

Wants to be in corporate

Does not drive anything over or below the speed limit.

Does not play the radio

Writes people up

Parents love him, children hate him 😤

5/10 simply because he doesn’t technically break the law

Raphael

Oh boy here we go

I do not think this man should have a license

Admittedly I know nothing about him

The only thing he drives is a dirt bike

He is banned from driving on all highways

If he has a chaperone he can maybe, maybe, drive on the road

He ran Michael off the road 2 times

This is why he can’t drive

Unrelated but he looks like he’d call Michael “Mikey”

Yea like the ninja turtle

6/10 for the memes

Thirteen

She puts those lil window stickers on her bus windows

Has a matching purple vest with Asmo

I also know nothing about her

But I feel like she’d slay

Drives by the rules sometimes

Gives stickers to the kids that behave

Gives disappointed looks to those that don’t

Tells all the kids that she’s any magical creature they think she is when they see her hair

Most kids think she’s a mermaid

She does what she wants honestly

8/10 simply because she calls out sometimes to go attend concerts

BONUS

Solomon

He does not drive

He got demoted from a driver to a monitor

Why you ask? He tried to use the bus in a street race after hours

Asmo had to step in and say that Solomon told him “he had no idea he was driving in a street race. He just wanted to get the bus away from the crazy drivers”

No one believed him

But Asmo has pretty privilege and a generally good record so Michael let it go

:[ he would have won if he didn’t forget that buses do not go well with speed bumps

He tells the kids he’s a magician and does minor illusion tricks to keep them distracted if there is traffic

Likes to mess with the other monitors

Is mainly the reason gossip spreads in the bus yard

10/10 I would genuinely be excited to go to school if he was on my bus when I was little

Luke

He’s like 10 years old

He can’t drive.

Simeon makes him the line leader when it’s time for the kids to get off the bus :]

Sometimes talks about the funky cars they see on the road

Once got into a fight with Mammon over the fact that his school id counted as “his license”

It does not

Mammon let him win tho

Dressed up like a bus driver for Halloween

Tells everyone that Solomon is half cat

Solomon does not understand why this small sassy child is convinced he’s a cat

10/10 he would be a great bus driver in like 30 centuries :]

[buttercupsandboys]

On Your Best Behaviour

Alfie Solomons x Livy (OFC) — Smutty One Shot 😈

Summary: In which Alfie attempts to be an outstanding member of his community, but Livy has other plans. 

Porn with a touch of plot — 18+ only, please! Lots of smut below the cut.

A/N: This is a one shot with Alfie x Livy (the female OC from my chapter fic, Sunshine & Rainbows), but it can easily be enjoyed on its own.

TW: dubious consent (not really, but just to be safe), mild dom/sub undertones, language

Word count: 3399

Also … for the sake of fantasy, let’s assume cars in the 1920’s had bigger back seats than they do now, ok? 😉

“Now, I’m serious, love. The people you’re going to meet tonight are—Oi! Eyes up here!”

Livy giggles, biting her lip and stilling her fingers as she reluctantly brings her exploration of his broad chest to an end. 

“Have you been listening to a single word I said?” asks Alfie, his tone stern, reflecting the authority he commands in all areas of his life. 

All bar one, it seems. 

“Yes, darling,” Livy coos, her golden eyes rolling beneath her thick lashes. “Important people, good behaviour, blah, blah, blah. I don’t know why you’re so concerned.”

“No?” scoffs Alfie, pulling her closer. His lips find her forehead, almost begrudgingly.

As is often the case, he feels torn between an overwhelming urge to bend her over his knee and an equally pressing desire to fuck her senseless. When he’s lucky, he indulges in both—a thought that has his cock stirring in his trousers—but sadly, there’s no time tonight. 

“Just try for me, alright, pet?” he coaxes, dropping one more kiss before pushing her away and smacking her bum. “Now go and get ready. We haven’t got all fucking night, and I know what you’re like.”

“Alfie!” she exclaims in mock outrage before blowing him a kiss and disappearing up the stairs. “You’ll pay for that!” she threatens as she disappears into the bathroom. 

Hmph. Of that, he has no doubt. 

Alfie reaches for his watch, about to check it for the third fucking time, when he finally hears the click of her heels on the floorboards. 

He looks up, ready to bark out a smart comment about the time, but instead, he nearly swallows his tongue. 

Livy is wrapped in a green velvet gown, shoulders bared, revealing a generous glimpse of soft creamy skin. Her fiery hair is tied back, highlighting her delicate collarbones and the elegant slope of her neck. She’s breathtaking, every inch of her, from her ankles to her button nose—although right now, it’s hard for him to focus on anything beyond her scandalous fucking cleavage. 

He swallows thickly at the sight of her full breasts, proudly on display, and can’t decide if he should cover her with a blanket or bend her over the sofa. 

“Fucking hell, love. I told you to behave. We’re going to a fundraiser for the Jewish Community Centre. Not the Eden Club.” 

Alfie drags a hand down his face, a small groan escaping his lips. He rarely attends social events but makes an exception for this one out of respect for his dear departed mother. Just once a year, he shows up as a respectable member of the community. 

But tonight, it’s the last place he wants to be. 

First, there’s the yentas, gossipy old women who will have a field day with Livy. It’s bad enough that he’s bringing a shiksa to a Jewish event but in that dress? Tongues will be wagging for months. 

Alfie rarely concerns himself with the opinions of others, but his head aches just thinking about the incessant chatter. Not to mention the leering old men, who will surely get an eyeful tonight. His hands fist at the thought, but at the same time, how can he blame them for looking? She’s so fucking beautiful, always, but tonight, she burns impossibly brighter. 

His gaze returns to her voluptuous body, like a moth to the flame. He takes in every curve, simultaneously loving and cursing that damn dress, before settling on her full, red lips—

— and it’s the mischievous grin he finds there that has him shaking his head. 

Alfie can tune out the busybodies, and it only takes one look from the Mad Baker to stamp out any lingering stares. But it’s Livy, with her pouting lips and wide eyes, that worries him most. She can be an evil temptress; a she-devil whose favourite game is teasing him to the brink of insanity, and from the look in her eyes, he knows to expect trouble tonight. 

As if reading his thoughts, she reaches for his waist, but he gently smacks her arm away. 

“Livy, I’m fucking warning you—“

“What, Alfie?” she asks innocently. 

Or perhaps more accurately, devilishly, because she knows exactly what she’s doing, biting her lip and batting her fucking lashes. Livy takes full advantage of his distraction, slipping a hand down the front of his trousers. 

He hisses at the contact, instinctively leaning into her palm as she wraps her fingers around him. He’s already at half mast, thanks to that evil fucking dress, and it only takes a few strokes before he’s fully, almost painfully, aroused. 

Livy smirks, looking far too pleased with herself. “You sure you don’t want help with that?” she whispers as she leans forward, nipping gently at his ear. 

Alfie grits his teeth, biting back the urge to lift her hips and drive her into the fucking wall. On any other night, he’d already be balls deep, buried between her thick thighs, and the thought has his cock twitching in her hand. 

He’s two seconds away from accepting her offer—because Alfie Solomons is not the type to deny himself something he wants—but then he sees her smug grin and changes his mind.

Two can play at this fucking game. 

With a growl, he removes her hand and stomps off, ignoring the fit of giggles erupting behind him. Tonight they will go to this fucking gala, and he’ll be a good Jewish son, an upstanding fucking citizen, a goddamn gentleman even… at least until they get home. 

Then he’ll have Livy on her knees, begging and crying for his cock, like the filthy fucking minx she is. 

They should have fucking walked. 

Once in the car, in that small, confined space where he had no choice but to sit close, with their hips pressed and her sweet scent flooding his nostrils—Alfie started to question the wisdom of his plan. 

There was nowhere to run, and they both knew it. As soon as the door shut, Livy crawled up his lap, pinning him down with her soft thighs and full breasts. Resistance was pointless, so he didn’t bother trying. 

Instead, he buried his tongue down her throat, groaning at the taste of her. Livy’s always so warm and welcoming, her soft body moulding perfectly around his, and it’s one of the many things he loves about her. 

She feels like coming home. 

At least, she does most of the time. Tonight, she feels more like a fucking torture chamber. 

The way she rolls her hips against his painfully swollen cock, knowing full well it will be hours before he can find any relief, is fucking diabolical. If he had any sense, he’d push her away, but the Big Bad Baker is a Dumb Fucking Cunt whenever she’s around. So he grips her hips and pulls her closer. 

Livy whimpers softly, and it should give him a dose of satisfaction to hear she’s as affected as he is—but it’s the same sound she makes when his face is buried deep between her thighs. And well, that vision certainly doesn’t make things any easier.

Neither do her fingers, which are untucking his shirt and releasing his trousers. Fuck, she’s persistent. He’s wondering how much more he can take when the car suddenly comes to a stop. 

“We’ve arrived,” announces Ishmael, who has the good sense to avoid all eye contact. 

“Splendid!” exclaims Livy as she slides off his lap and cheerfully bounds out the door, not bothering to wait for assistance. 

Alfie, on the other hand, needs a second to catch his fucking breath. He tucks himself into his waistband, noticing with some chagrin that he’s leaking like a schoolboy before uncomfortably storming after her. 

“Keep the car close,” he barks over his shoulder as the door slams shut. 

The small hall is tastefully decorated with white linen and fresh flowers. Each year, the fundraiser attracts a “who’s who” of the Jewish elite, and Alfie knows his mum would be proud to see her son taking his place among them. 

But with some shame, he thanks god she isn’t here—because there are some things that no mother should ever fucking see. 

Livy might be the light of his life, but tonight she’s pure evil. Leaning forward on every possible occasion, presenting him with a generous glimpse of those perfect fucking tits; squeezing a bit closer than necessary, dragging her round arse over his weeping cock; and worst of all, the speeches. 

Oh, the fucking speeches. 

While the chairman of something or another went on and on about his achievements, puffing about like a peacock, poor Alfie was suffering through the most deviant torture of his not-so-young life. They were sat at a large round table, draped in a long white tablecloth, and Livy being Livy, took full advantage of the situation. 

Her nibble fingers found him within minutes of sitting and went on to stroke him to damn near completion—at which point Alfie resorted to a theatrical coughing fit to cover the growl escaping his lips as he summoned the strength to push her away. 

After that, he had the somewhat brilliant idea to exact revenge with his hand up her skirt. And in fairness, it paid off (sort of). The high-cut slit of her evil fucking dress provided easy access, as did her complete lack of undergarments. But it was only when he found her warm, wet centre, his thick fingers gliding through her dripping folds, that he realised his mistake. 

The feel of her, quivering and practically gushing around him, did nothing to ease the painful ache in his balls. Instead, it made everything ten times worse—and then a hundred times worse because Livy (proving yet again that she is a wicked fucking temptress) began to clench around his fingers. 

Fuck. 

Everything in the room fades away, his senses too busy imagining her on all fours, thighs spread wide, wet and willing in front of him. He can practically hear the crack of his hand as it connects with her round flesh; he can see the perfect way her arse wobbles in the aftermath; and he can feel the sweet relief when he finally slides home….

Alfie quickly removes his hand before he embarrasses himself. 

The speeches are over and thank fucking god. It’s almost late enough to leave without raising suspicion. 

Livy is by his side, looking for all the world like a perfect lady (albeit a scantily dressed one), but then she leans over and whispers in his ear, revealing her true nature. 

“When we get in the car, darling, I want you to fuck my face.”

Alfie nearly chokes, sputtering on his drink. Livy coos and rubs his back, her voice sickly sweet. 

“There, there, Alfie. That’s right, my love. Save the choking for me.”

Evil fucking minx. 

His mind races with all the ways he’s going to punish her for this—thoughts that aren’t exactly helping his obvious arousal—but he’s beyond fucking caring. Alfie checks his watch one final time before roughly grabbing her by the elbow. 

“We’re leaving,” he grunts, practically dragging her out the door. 

“But Alfie!” Livy protests. “Shouldn’t we say our goodbyes?”

“I’ll send a cheque tomorrow. Now fucking move.”

They’re barely around the block when he leans forward, tapping Ishmael on the shoulder with his cane. 

“Stop the car. Wait outside.” 

Alfie’s voice is deadly calm but far from reassuring. Any air of respectability is long gone, along with his patience, replaced by something dark, almost feral. When he turns to face her, he looks every inch the dangerous gangster, the violent king of Camden Town. 

Livy licks her lips, her pale skin trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation, and Alfie‘s lips curl under his thick beard. He let her have her fun, and now it’s his turn. He plans to make the most of it. 

“Open your fucking mouth,” he commands. 

His fingers thread through her flaming hair, dislodging the remaining pins, as he yanks her out of her seat. Alfie’s rough, but he doesn’t miss her slight smile, letting him know she’s exactly where she wants to be. That’s my good girl, he thinks, knowing it won’t be long until he wipes that look off her pretty face. He pauses to appreciate the view before freeing his cock and shoving it down the back of her throat. 

His hips jerk as he’s enveloped in her warm wet mouth, the long-awaited pleasure washing over him in waves, only intensifying when he hears her gag and sputter. He snarls, tightening his grip and pinning her in place a moment longer before finally letting her up for air. Livy pulls back, gasping softly, looking up at him from beneath her long, thick lashes. 

He briefly wonders how she manages to look so innocent and filthy at the same fucking time, but then she lowers her head, and he couldn’t care less. 

After hours of relentless teasing, it’s clear he’s not going to last very long, but that’s fine. This is just the start of what he has planned for tonight, and if Livy has to wait a bit longer for her own satisfaction, all the fucking better. She wants to play games, so games they’ll play—until every inch of her is thoroughly used and abused, and she’s a wet, begging mess. 

Starting right fucking now. 

“Wider,” Alfie orders, releasing her hair and roughly gripping her jaw. When she doesn’t respond immediately, he gives her a short, sharp smack to the side of her face. 

Livy gasps around his cock, but listens, stretching her lips obscenely wide. He hums, catching the dampness at the corner of her mouth and smearing it down her chin with his thumb. His balls tighten in anticipation. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns. “Now, be a good girl. Hands on my thighs.”

This time she doesn’t hesitate, and he growls with satisfaction, grabbing the back of her head and thrusting forward. A long, guttural moan escapes from his chest, along with a string of barely coherent curses, as she bobs up and down his aching cock. 

He needs this, needs her, so fucking badly, and she takes him so well. As promised, Livy lets him fuck her face, moaning for more even as her eyes water and saliva drips from her red, swollen lips. 

“You’re such a greedy little thing, ain’t ya, love? Desperate for my cock? Well don’t worry. Daddy will take care of you.”

He bucks his hips, hard, and she chokes before muttering something incomprehensible.  

It’s that sound that pushes him over the edge. He grips her head and unloads down the back of her throat, ropes of thick cum that just keep coming, but Livy takes it all, sucking eagerly, hungrily, until he has to physically push her away. 

“Easy, love, easy,” he pants as she brushes his sensitive tip, catching the last drop of his release on her tongue. Livy sits back on her heels and cocks her head slightly, eyes pleading, before moving to straddle his lap. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he grunts, quickly regaining control and pushing her back in her seat. “You can sit and wait like a good girl.” His voice drops. “Make daddy happy, and maybe I’ll let you cum tonight.”

Livy whimpers as Alfie bangs on the window, signalling for Ishmael. 

Alfie can’t remember the last time he enjoyed himself quite this much. 

He gets up from where he’s been kneeling between Livy’s thighs and wipes his mouth on his forearm. There are tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and sweaty wisps of scarlet hair stuck to her forehead. She’s trembling, making low keening sounds, muffled behind the soft fabric balled in her mouth. 

“Well, that’s one way to finally shut you up,” he chuckles, admiring his handiwork before running a thick ringed finger through her dripping slit. Livy jerks violently as he brushes against her swollen bud, desperately seeking the friction and release she’s been chasing for hours. 

“Now, what did I tell you about staying still?” Alfie scolds as his tone darkens. “I thought you were going to behave yourself. Are you a good girl, Livy?”

She nods frantically, but Alfie shakes his head. 

“Nah, pet. I don’t think you are. Not yet, anyway. It looks like daddy needs to teach you another lesson.” 

Livy’s eyes go wide, and she wrestles against him, but he easily overpowers her. “Shush now,” he mutters, pressing a gentle kiss against her damp forehead. He tenderly strokes the side of her face, tracing down the curve of her body before suddenly flipping her on her stomach. 

Livy whimpers softly but lies perfectly still. 

“Ah, she’s learning. Now lift your arse for me.”

She quickly obeys, and Alfie sits back on his heels, admiring the view. He’s rock fucking hard and, in truth, nearly as desperate as she is. But after the stunt she pulled tonight, he refuses to give in. He can hold off a bit longer if it means more of her, boneless and begging. 

“Open up for me, pet,” he barks, slapping her thighs to spread her legs wider. 

Livy does as directed, and her pitiful little whines are music to his ears. Alfie continues his relentless teasing, tracing her lips but stubbornly avoiding her aching clit. He leans forward, allowing himself one more glorious taste as he licks her from hole to hole—before bringing his palm down, cracking hard against her soft, round flesh. 

A beautiful pink mark flushes on her pale skin, and he traces it with his finger. He can feel the tension in her muscles and knows how hard she’s working to stay still. For him. Fuck. He raises a hand and smacks the other cheek, leaving a twin stain. 

She can’t hold back her cry this time, and he reaches up, forcing her to face him. Livy’s eyes are red-rimmed, there’s snot dripping from her nose, and all he can think is she’s never looked so fucking perfect. Alfie pulls the gag from her mouth, and his heart stops when he hears her tiny voice, just above a whisper.

“Alfie, please.”

And just like that, all games are off. 

He spins her back around, cradling her gently in his arms as he kisses away her tears. Livy reaches for him, desperately weaving her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping her from drowning. 

Their eyes lock, and his breath catches as he hitches her leg over his hip, finally giving her what they’ve both been waiting all night for. 

Livy cries out as he fills her, and Alfie bites his cheek so hard he can taste blood. She’s never felt so hot, so tight, so wet around him … and oh fuck. She’s heaven, and she’s hell, and now she’s clenching him so tightly he forgets to breathe. 

With what feels like his last conscious thought, he finds her swollen clit, and it only takes a few steady strokes before everything explodes. She drives her heels into the mattress and arches her back, pulling him deeper as she shatters around him. He quickly follows, burying his face in her neck, calling her name as his hips jerk and his mind goes blank. 

Alfie finally collapses against her chest, feeling rather breathless and boneless himself. Livy’s hands have resumed their never-ending exploration of his broad shoulders, lazily stroking his skin as his heart returns to normal. 

“Are you ok, love?” he asks, lifting his head to scan her over, checking her carefully for any marks requiring attention. 

“Of course, darling! Better than ok,” she giggles, her voice thick like honey. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Alfie smiles because this beautiful, wicked, perfect woman never fails to surprise him. Livy raises an eyebrow before shaking her head and continuing to chat away. 

“You know, Alfie, you were so worried about tonight. But I think it’s been quite a success, don’t you agree? Who knew one could have so much fun at the Jewish Community Centre?”

He groans, thinking about the damage control he’ll have to do after tonight and makes a mental note to add an extra zero to his annual donation. Livy is going to cost him a fucking fortune—and quite possibly his sanity—but as she pulls him down for another kiss, he knows she is absolutely, categorically worth it. 

A/N: This is my first one shot (and probably the smuttiest thing I’ve written) so let me know if you enjoyed it! 

Also, if you want to read more about Alfie and Livy, here is my masterlist. 

Wanted to be on my tag list? Leave a comment and let me know if you want everything or just one shots (I only write for Alfie).Thanks for reading! 

[evita-shelby]

Incantatrice

Ch.16

Cw: death, guilt, feminicide, murder, mentions of sex(duh its an eva fic), whatever murder of a pregnant person is called

Taglist: @wandawiccan60 @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife

Gif by @cillianparadise

“I want you to be the last.” Luca had said when they met earlier yesterday, “I want you to be alive after your entire family is dead 'cause my mother says that is what will hurt you the most.”

A few days after John’s funeral, Elizabeth Stark is found dead in a canal.

Her autopsy revealed she was pregnant, barely two months along.

He hadn’t killed her, but he let Esme and Polly take their revenge.

Always loving the wrong women, Polly had said drinking to hide her shaking hands as she washed the blood from them.

When the police call her next of kin, Tommy pretends he is as shocked as they are to know his family is all she had.

He is alone at the cemetery when he sees a woman in black come with marigolds.

Perhaps a friend, he thinks, Lizzie was alone in the world.

Alone save for them and the baby she never even knew about.

“I warned her this would happen.” The woman said, an American with a voice like cool silk.

The hairs on the back of his neck rise in intrigue, fear and anger.

“Mrs. Changretta, I presume.” He said taking out a cigarette case Lizzie had picked out for him last Christmas.

He killed her like he killed Grace and Greta and Zelda.

The sapphire was not the curse, the curse was him.

“There was no curse, your women were not interesting enough to warrant one.” The woman answered reading his mind. “Just shit luck, hence why they fell in love with you.”

Like a real witch, like his mother once used to do before the tablets and the booze and the opium turned her into something unrecognizable.

She was good looking too, in that slightly unnerving beauty that beckoned you like a moth to a flame.

No wonder Luca had married her, with a woman like that, he was God himself.

“And rich to boot. Had I not gone to the opera that evening, I would have ended up here.” She adds, being pleasant company despite being the wife of the man here to kill them all. “Maybe even have had the misfortune of falling in love with you down the line.”

“What do you want?” he asks not wanting to think what game the witch is playing at.

“Just want this to be over, same as you.” She answered as if they didn’t have vastly different meanings. “Should have let her go instead of damning them all to die, Shelby.”

“They killed my wife.” He says, as if that makes it better.

“Your wife’s killer wasn’t one of ours, he hadn’t been lying, you know. Just like Lizzie wasn’t lying either.” The woman smirked. “You knew that, not then, but later when it was already done and no turning back.

First rule of this world is not to be taken in by appearances, and every damn time you fall for the veneer.

First Grace, then Solomons and Sabini, the shooter, the Russians and now Lizzie.”

“If you wanted her dead, you could’ve done it yourself.” He exhaled wishing nothing more than to take the revolver to his head, feel the cold steel on his temple and feel the thrill of pulling the fucking trigger.

But then he always remembers Charlie and Lizzie and he puts it down. Goes to them and remembers there are people he lives for.

This time there won’t be anyone to keep him from ending his miserable life.

The Changrettas wanted him to die even if he won.

“’s good strategy you have, even if you lose, you win.” He points out, as a man who likes competence, at least it’s a comfort to know his enemies are not winning by blind luck, but by skill.

Campbell only won because he didn’t know Tommy would have fallen for such a lousy spy in the first place.

Had Tommy not been so vulnerable when Grace came dressed in lies, everything would have been so different.

So many dead or gone from his life because he loved the wrong woman.

“Never caught your name, Mrs. Changretta.” He brings up when the woman turned to leave.

“Eva. Eva Changretta.”

“Polly’s lying to you.” Eva said the moment she smelled her on his clothes when he returned from the nightclub he met Polly Gray at.

He had a drink and a dance with her, and Eva had put flowers on the grave of Tommy’s lover and victim.

“This isn’t my first vendetta, you know.” He reminds her, trying to kiss her as she took off his vest.

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to remind you.” The witch said moving out of the way before he could do so.

“Are you jealous, maga?” he asks recognizing fully well the telltale signs of her jealousy.

Luca will remind her she is the only woman he wants in his bed.

Could remind her right on the desk, or the chair, the door, anywhere they want without the children killing the mood.

Can’t remember the last time they had the luxury to be loud and go as long as they want.

They’re getting a nanny after this.

“You would be the same if I had been the one dancing so closely with Tommy Shelby.” Eva answered, knowing he could not fault her with such a good argument.

“If he even touched you, he’d be a dead man.” Luca nuzzled her neck, kissing and biting her so they know she is his property.

Only fair he gets to mark her after she marked him this morning.

“If you fuck the aunt, I will fuck the nephew.” The witch warns as things take their natural progression.

“You’re gorgeous when you’re jealous, it’s a good color on you, Evucca.” He smirked.

“Met his wife this morning. She claims the shooter wasn’t one of theirs.” Tommy lights another cigarette and offers Polly one of his.

“Luca said Lizzie was a taste of what’s to come.” Polly supplied with a sigh.

Hands hadn’t stopped shaking since that night.

Esme called saying Lizzie and her baby had been haunting her. Esme hadn’t known about the baby.

We killed an innocent, Polly, they made us kill an innocent, Esme had said in a panic.

Lizzie had not been lying, just as Vincente Changretta hadn’t either.

Now they pay the fucking price.

And what a heavy prize it is.

If she must choose between her son or Tommy, Polly knows he won’t blame her for it.

[thelibrarylesstrektraveled]

Nightingale Chapter Seventeen - All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Seventeen: All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Word Count: 5279

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing! Author's Additional Notes: This is it. The last chapter. The Conclusion to my story! (There will be an epilogue to follow) I started this over a year and a half ago, and here we are, finished!! There were plenty of times I wondered if I'd ever get there. But with the steadfast encouragement of all of you, I found the inspiration and the drive. Thank all of you who read this and showered me with love. I am forever grateful!

Masterlist

Nightingale Masterlist

     Jensen checked his watch again while he tapped his fingers against his leg trying to rid himself of the anxious energy.  You’d been in the restroom for fifteen minutes and while women tended to take longer in the bathroom, it was unusual for you.  Other girls had come and gone in that time, and he was beginning to worry.  Deciding to hell with it, he knocked loudly to announce himself and entered.

     “Y/N?  Sweetheart?  The play is starting…”

     The room was empty and something about the eerie silence sent an ominous chill down his spine.  Not a trace of you anywhere, as if you’d evaporated into thin air!  Desperate, he pushed open the stall doors and last one revealed a woman crumpled against the wall.  He recognized the scuffed sneakers as your favorites and the denim jacket with the frayed sleeves.  And the fall of golden hair.

     Frantic, he dropped to his knees, “Y/N!  Baby?!” 

     He grabbed hold of your shoulder and pulled.  Your head rolled back and revealed a deeply slit throat and a stranger’s face.

     Dead.  He could tell it at a glance, but it wasn’t you!  The poor soul had been dressed in your clothes and a very convincing blonde wig. 

     “Shit!”  Jensen scrambled to his feet and burst out of the room.  He frantically searched the crowd of people while dialing his emergency number.

      “Solomon.”

      “She’s gone!  She’s gone, you son of a bitch!  You said she was safe!”

     “We show Y/N in the ladies’ room on the east end of the pavilion.” 

      “Her clothes are there along with a fucking dead body!  He’s got her!  Fuck!”

      “Stay where you are,” the agent barked through the phone while people shuffled in the background. 

      He took off at a jog, trying to scan the faces for yours, “Like hell I will!”

      “That’s an order, Ackles!  I need details, not another missing person.  I have agents converging on your location.”

      Jensen ended the call and tried your number.  It rang several times then went to voicemail.  “Sweetheart, if you get this, just hang on.  I’m coming.  I swear to God… I’m coming to get you.”

       Consciousness came to you in fragments.  Different parts of your body were numb.  There was a pins and needles feeling that came with having been in one position for too long.  Your eyes felt dry and raw, although you hadn’t opened them yet.  Your throat felt the same and there was a really unpleasant smell coming from somewhere.  An artificial and over-powering cherry scent mixed with sour sweat.  Suddenly, your whole frame was jolted, and the side of your head connected with something cold and hard.  It was enough to pull you out of the semi-conscious daze you’d been in, your eyes popped open as your head bounced off the passenger side window. 

     You sat more upright with a groan and rubbed your head, “What…?”

     This wasn’t Jensen’s car.  The dashboard was faded blue and cracked from the sun.  An ancient radio with silver knobs played an old song from the sixties.  The cardboard cherry air freshener swinging from the rearview was at least partly to blame for the oppressive stench.  The man in the driver’s seat was to blame for the rest.

     “Pharmaceuticals have come such a long way, haven’t they?  That little trip was courtesy of a new and very effective benzodiazepine.  Administered through absorption through the skin.  Remarkable.  It’s hung up in clinical trials, but those of us with connections can still have our fun.”

     Your gaze slid to the man behind the wheel and your stomach knotted.  Now that he had his glasses on and his hair was brushed back from his face, he looked much like he did back in New York.  Large, hawk-like nose.  Sharp cheekbones, eyebrows like dark slashes over nearly black eyes. 

     “Of course, the best part is that although you looked like a drunk sorority girl, you were still wide awake inside,” his lips pulled into a disturbing grin.  “Hate for you to miss out.”

     He was right.  You’d been awake while he and that girl stripped you naked and dressed you in her clothes.  You’d been useless to fight them as they pulled a wig down on your head.  You were trapped in your own body, only able to witness the horror has he killed her right in front of you.  In your mind, you screamed while he seamlessly ushered you past Jensen and into the crowd.  Right under the noses of the undercover agents who were meant to protect you. 

     You forced your mind to focus.  Agent Solomon had gone over countless scenarios with you, and this was one of them.  You quickly took inventory and noted that every scrap of clothing had been removed or replaced.  Your tracking monitor, your cell phone, your pepper spray and pocketknife.  Anything that might have been useful was long gone. 

     Except the blue paisley tie Jensen wrapped around your wrist.  You could still feel the cool silk against your skin.  Your tether to him and a reminder that you still had access to one thing that might help you.  The fourth wall.  The stage was set, and this was just another part to play.  If you gave a convincing enough performance, you might just come out of this alive.

     “Where are you taking me?” you asked as you pulled the frayed seatbelt over your shoulder and secured it.

     “Tsk, Tsk!  Telling would ruin the surprise, and you know how much I love a good surprise.”

     You scanned the scenery whizzing past and found it unfamiliar.  A two-lane road cut through thick woodland as the sun began to set.  No signs other than the occasional mile marker and warnings about rockslides.  Your ears popped, confirming you were headed to higher elevation and farther away from civilization.

      Show time.

     “Why haven’t you killed me?”  You ripped the auburn-colored wig from your head and tossed it to the floor. 

     “Do you want me to?” he returned, patting the handgun in his lap.

     Panic tried to rise like bile in your throat.  You pushed it down and snatched the half full pack of cigarettes from the dash. 

     “What I want is to wake up safe at home with a beer and left-over pizza in the fridge, but we don’t always get what we want.”

     “Beer and pizza,” Arthur repeated with a scoff.  “Sophistication never was your strong suit, Y/N.  One of Colin’s many grievances about you.”

     “What I lacked in sophistication, I made up for in eagerness.”  You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, “I certainly never heard any complaints about that.”

     “Slut.  Useless whore.  No wonder you shacked up with a Hollywood scumbag like Ackles.  You probably fuck him for a weekly allowance.”  His fingers tightened around the wheel as he spoke, “Colin deserved so much better than you.”

     “Someone like you, I suppose.”  You barked out a laugh as Green turned red from the neck up, “Jesus, you’re not still carrying a torch for a dead man, are you?  That’s pathetic, Artie.  It really is.  You know he just kept you around out of pity.  Poor little Artie from the block…”

     He backhanded you right across the mouth.  Your lip split and you tasted blood.

     “Shut up!  Just shut your whore mouth!”  He grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the window, making you groan and slump in your seat.  Your vison went hazy, but you kept conscious.

     “You conniving bitch… you had to go to the feds!  If it wasn’t for that I’d have killed you quick and been done with it.  One last loose end… but not now.  Now, I get creative.  I’ll start with your little boy toy; carve his pretty face up so not even his own mother will recognize him.  Your bestie with those cute kids?  I’ll strangle her to death while they watch.”

     You didn’t say anything, waiting him out as he raged on, “Oh!  But what about your baby sister?  Frankie.  Well, let’s just say she’ll wish she’d died in that car wreck by the time I get through with her.”

     With Arthur’s rage distracting him, you saw your opening and you took it.  The cigarette was still clenched in your fist.  Your hand shot out and you crushed the glowing cherry into his face.  It sizzled and he screamed.

     He howled in pain, and you grabbed the wheel, yanking it with all your might!  The two of you fought for control and sent the truck into a spin.  The back end fishtailed, and the tires squealed.  The world went topsy turvy around you as the truck went careening off the road with a deafening crash.  Then, silence.

     “Black SUV, headed east on Market.  That’s the last we see of it until it popped up abandoned in the Whole Foods parking lot.”

     “We got the video from them?”

     “Nada.  Their surveillance system went down last week.”

     “Safe bet that was our perp.  Get the last recordings they have in the database, let’s see if Green shows his face.”

      “SUV registered to Mrs. Barbara Perkins, deceased.”

     “Naturally.  Get a trace on that name, address, bank accounts, the works.”

      Jensen had never felt more useless in his life.  While the FBI agents bustled around their make-shift headquarters, he was sitting in an office chair.  Waiting.  There was literally nothing else he could do.  They already knew what Green looked like, even disguised as a fangirl.  The pics of Jensen signing autographs went live on social media almost instantaneously.  There were all sorts of video surveillance of him walking around the park and walking a stumbling girl through the parking lot.  It was as if he was showing off.  Flaunting his deeds to the authorities who were oblivious to it all.

      Jensen felt sick at the thought of how close you were.  Green had walked you right by him and he didn’t even know it!  His mind kept going to the dead woman wearing your clothes.  Blood everywhere.  Running like a river from her slit throat.  It could have so easily been you.  It still could, and that thought chilled him to the bone.

     The video was good for one thing though, it confirmed that you had been very much alive when you left with him.  Jensen was holding on to that fact like a lifeline!  You were smart and you were a fighter.  You’d come back, you had to.  He had a whole life planned out and every day of it included you.  Marriage.  Children.  Big family Christmases.  Quiet date nights.  He even planned a proposal in Paris.  You told him you always wanted to go and making your dreams come true had become an obsession for him.  Nothing made him happy like making you happy.  His life wasn’t his own, it was forever intertwined with yours. 

      In the immortal words of his alter-ego, “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

      When his phone rang, his heart nearly stopped.  He didn’t recognize the number, but knew it was you.  “Y/N?!”

     “Jensen!  Oh God…!”

      Agent Solomon was on him instantly to hand the phone over, he refused.  But he did put it on speaker.  “Sweetheart, where are you?  Are you okay?!”

     The connection was tenuous, making your voice fade in and out. 

     “I’m okay… not… don’t know…. Arthur crashed…”

     “Crashed?!  What happened?”

      Solomon grabbed the phone, “Doctor West, are you with Green right now?”

     “No.  We crashed…. Left…”

     “Was he alive when you saw him last?”

     “…. Unconscious… don’t…. “

      “What kind of vehicle was he driving?”

     “Blue pickup… Dairyland.”

      “Dairyland?”  Jensen repeated. 

     “AJ… 677.”

      “Wisconsin plates,” Solomon signaled to his agents to run a search.  Even fragmented information would pull up something.

     “Doctor West, do you know where you are?”

     “Highway.  I don’t… mountains.  Jay!  Its… otter… Kimmy…”

     The agent locked eyes with Jensen, “What is she talking about?”

     “I don’t know,” he shook his head.  “Kimmy who?”

     “Kim… makeup… otter tattoo.”

     It clicked for him then.  The makeup artist who designed her own tattoos, Kimmy.  She’d been quite taken with Y/N when she went to the set that day.

      “It’s Mount Harvey, the snow melt on the south face looks like an otter playing baseball.”

      “Good.  Doctor West, we’re coming to you.”

      If she heard, she didn’t reply.  The phone screen showed the call dropped.  Solomon handed the phone to one of his team to pull trace information while he barked orders.  The well-oiled team shifted into their roles.  Dispatch communicated with local authorities on every level.  One of the advantages of working with the FBI, they were practiced in the art of the manhunt.  It wasn’t a question of if they would get Green, but when.  And would it be in time?

     “Ackles, you’re with me.”

     Jensen looked up in time to catch a bulletproof vest with FBI printed across the chest. 

     “I don’t have civilians on my tactical team as a rule,” Solomon informed him, zipping up his own vest.  “But you know Y/N better than anyone, I need your insight.  Let’s move.”

     You weren’t sure how far you’d gotten or how long you’d been walking.  It seemed like forever.  That ancient truck Arthur had been driving actually turned out to be a blessing.  The frame was good, old fashioned American steel and took the brunt of the crash without much damage.  The seatbelt did its job and prevented you from being thrown through the windshield.  Although, it dug into you with enough force that you likely had a broken clavicle and possibly a dislocated shoulder.  It throbbed like a son of a bitch, but you still made out better than Green. 

     He was going over sixty miles per hour when he crashed, and he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.  He was slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding from a deep gash on his scalp and covered in broken glass from the shattered windshield.  The doctor in you wanted to check for a pulse, but your visual assessment would have to do.  He was breathing, and that was enough.  You knew time wasn’t on your side, you needed to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. 

      You made a quick search of his pockets and found both a phone and a handgun.  The passenger side door was bashed in, making it impossible to escape through the door or the window.  With a quick glance to confirm your kidnapper was still unconscious, you freed yourself from the seatbelt and climbed over the dash and through the shattered windshield.  You ignored the pain of the broken glass tearing into your hands and legs. 

     You had to get out and make a run for it, it was your only chance!

     The charge on the cell was dwindling as it searched for a signal, but the fates were with you, and it connected.  The sound of Jensen’s voice nearly broke you.  You held yourself together enough to get as much information out as you could before the call dropped. 

     “No, no damn it!”  Your fingers shook as you tried to call again, only to be me with no service.  You looked around at the dense trees lining the two-lane highway and the rapidly setting sun.  Tears blurred your vision and the weight of your situation hit you in force.

     There was nowhere to go for help, you didn’t even know where you were!  The adrenaline in your system was fading and you could feel the effects of shock setting in.  Injured in a car wreck coupled with who knows what the side effects of that drug Arthur shot you up with.   You well and truly screwed.

     You bent at the waist; your hands braced on your knees as you fought the rising panic.  The blue patterned silk tied to your wrist peeked out from under your shirt cuff. 

     “Breathe, Y/N.”

     “I can’t.”

     “I’m right here, Sweetheart.  I’m with you.”

     “He’s going to kill me!”

     “You can do this, come on.  Deep breath.  In and out.”

     You closed your eyes and rubbed the silk between your finger and thumb.  Like magic, you saw the closet.  Warm and filled with color-coded clothes.  The scent of cedar and vanilla cologne and Jensen smiling. 

     “You’ve got this, Y/N.  Keep moving, keep fighting!  I’m coming for you.”

     The actor’s trick worked.  Your mind cleared and you focused.  Obviously, continuing on foot was only a decent option when you knew where you were going.  You didn’t.  Which meant it was a drain on your energy reserves.  Plus, it would make rescuing you that much more difficult for the people looking for you. 

     You eyed the woods.  It was risky, with nightfall fast approaching, you would have wildlife to contend with and falling temps, but then… so would Green.  If he came to, he’d be looking for you.  Best to make that as difficult as possible. 

     “Stronger together,” you muttered the motto that became a mantra.  Even though he wasn’t holding your hand, Jensen was still with you.  You could still count on him, to remind you what was worth fighting for. 

     With the gun heavy in your hand, you climbed down the embankment and disappeared into the forest.

     “R.C.M.P. clocked a vehicle matching Green’s heading north on 99.  Last spotted an hour ago just passing Lion’s Bay.”

     “Any confirmation on passengers?”

     “Two.  A male and a female.”

     “Given the timeframe of the crash, they couldn’t have gotten much farther than that.”

     “Any hits on the cell?”

     “No, sir.”

     “Keep trying.  If she’s on the move, we might get lucky.”

     Jensen kept quiet as he sat in the back of the SUV.  The flurry of clipped commands yielded no new information.  They were racing towards you, but there was no way to know if they would make it in time.  Jensen tugged at the tie on his wrist while his mind worked over-time.  Were you hurt?  Scared?  Running or hiding?  Were you alive? 

     God please, let her be alive!

     As if on cue, his cell phone rang.  Only once, before the call dropped, but it was your number.  And it was enough.

     “Got it!  Moving slow, heading north by northeast towards Tunnel Bluffs.”

     “We’ve got local law in the area about ten minutes out.”

     “All units converge on new coordinates, be advised our witness is currently on foot.”

     “The assailant is considered armed and dangerous, use of full and deadly force authorized for all personnel.”

     The trees on Mount Harvey were thick and grew to impressive proportions.  Massive, monolithic firs and pines that held the record for some of the biggest on Earth.  Tangles of undergrowth and roots covered every inch of the forest floor, you lost your footing more than once.  Every fall slowed you down and added to your injuries.  The sun dropped to just below the horizon and the temperature went with it.

     You leaned heavily against one of the pines to catch your breath.  Your physical reserves were nearly gone, and you knew it.  There was just enough daylight left to make out a tree a few feet away.  It had an unusual split in its trunk.  Limping and cradling your arm to ease the pressure on your shoulder, you poked around in the gap.  Mostly filled with decomposing leaves, but big enough to shelter you for the night. 

     You squeezed your body through the opening and bit back a grunt as the bark scraped your injuries.  It wasn’t comfortable, which was for the best.  Your exhausted body was already vying for sleep, anything to counter that was welcome.  The opening wasn’t wide enough to see much, but it was still a defensible position.

     Your frozen fingers flexed around the gun as your eyes worked to adjust to the darkness falling.  The weight of it in your hand was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.  You were a doctor, you saved lives you didn’t take them.  Your thumb clicked off the safety as you committed to the only course of action that would leave you alive.  It would be a long night and you were damn well going to survive it. 

     “All around the cobbler’s bench, the monkey chased the weasel.”

     Your eyes popped open.  When had you shut them?  The phone in your pocket died long ago, so it was impossible to tell how long you’d been in hiding.  The woods were still.  There was no wind or sounds of scuttling wildlife.  But a child’s song, so faint you thought you’d imagined it. 

     “The monkey thought was all in fun.”

     “A penny for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle.”

     “That’s the way the money goes.”

      “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     There it was again.  Singing.  You were sure you hadn’t imagined it, it had to be Arthur.  God!  It seemed like you were making a racket!  Your breathing, your heartbeat, your eyelashes blinking rapidly as you desperately scanned the inky shadows.  Why did sound amplify in the cold and the dark?  It all seemed to be announcing your location to the man who was coming to murder you. 

     “Up and down the London road.”

     “In and out of the Eagle.”

     “That’s the way the money goes.”

     “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     He was playing with you.  The monkey and the weasel.  Cat and mouse.  You should have kept running!  Should have kept to the road, someone would have seen you.  You would have stood a chance!  Now you were in a trap of your own making.

     “I’ve no time to plead and pine.”

     “I’ve no time to wheedle.”

     “Kiss me quick and then I’m gone.”

     “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     The echo of the woods distorted Arthur’s voice so that you had no clue where he was coming from.  Running now would do you no good.  It was too late.  The son of a bitch was closing in on you now.  Would they even be able to find your body?  Would Jensen ever know what became of you?  You should have ran the minute you remembered your name. 

     “All around the cobbler’s bench.”

     “Arthur chased the doctor.”

     “The doctor thought was all in fun…”

     God, please keep him safe from the psychopath.  And Frankie!  Make sure they know I love them!  No matter what happens to me… I love you!

     “Pop!”

     Arthur.  Blood, dirt, and broken glass.  A twisted grin split his grotesque face. 

     Time stopped; a shot rang out.  Then, nothing.

     Jensen stood with the small, second group of agents investigating the crashed truck.  Two sets of footprints disappeared into the woods and the first round of FBI had already spread out into the wilderness to join the Mounties and broaden the search.

     The report of a gunshot echoed all the way back to the road.

     His blood ran cold.  “Y/N.”

     A hand went to Jensen’s Kevlar covered chest before he could move.  Bruce, the iron faced agent assigned to the actor, held him in place.

     "Let me go!"

     "Not a chance."

     "That was a fucking gunshot!"

     "Yeah, it was.  You take off now, the next one might have your name on it."

     “I don’t care!”

     "Right now, every resource we have is focused on Y/N.  You go out there and those resources get split, cutting her chance at survival in half.”

     Jensen turned away, running his hands through his hair.  “Fuck!”

     "We've all got a job to do.  Yours is communication,” Bruce put a steady hand on Jensen’s shoulder.  “You want to help your girl?   Stay put.  Be here and be ready to answer when she calls."

     Knowing Bruce was right didn't make the next hour of waiting any easier.  It was agony.  There was no word.  Not a sound from anyone.  Radio silence, Agent Bruce called it.  He seemed to think it was a positive sign, but it was driving Jensen insane.  Each minute that passed brought a horrible new thought.  A potential nightmare that could play out right in front of him.  And he was powerless to prevent it.

     He was past the end of his rope when an ambulance came into view and sped past them.  Traveling at breakneck speed up the mountain. Flashing lights bouncing off the trees and rock face. 

     Bruce held a finger to the tiny Speaker in his ear.  A grim look passed his features.

     "Let's move."

     He said nothing more.  No word on if you were alive or dead.  No hint at who that ambulance was for.  An hour ago, Jensen would have sworn he'd reached his capacity for worry and stress.  But that was nothing compared to the five minutes it took to reach the clearing.  There was a mass of people milling around.  F.B.I. he recognized and a few others outfitted in uniforms for the R.C.M.P.  That ambulance was parked off to the side, the back door was closed but the lights were still flashing.  Several other official looking vehicles showed up, including one for the coroner’s office. 

     Jensen was out of the car before Bruce even put it in park.  He caught the slender build of Frank Solomon, casually talking to a couple of other agents by the rail guard.  The son of a bitch was acting like he’d completed a milk run!  Jensen’s nostrils flared with rage as he made a direct path for him.

     The young man looked up, seemingly unphased by the Texan’s aggressive approach.

     "Ackles.”

     "Where is she?!"

     Solomon’s mouth opened, but it wasn’t his voice that was heard.  A shrill, terrified scream came from inside the ambulance, cutting through the night.

      "Jensen!"

     He'd spent fifteen years stepping into the boots of Dean Winchester.  Fighting monsters.  Some you could see, some you couldn't.  But no matter how close he was to the hero he portrayed; it was still an act.  Though there were plenty of times he’d wished it were real.  Wished he were more like the enigmatic man in the ’67 Chevy.  The man who always knew what to do.  The man who always saved the day.

     And yes, he would let his ‘Dean’ show from time to time.  That was a blurred line that proved useful more than once.  But in that moment when you screamed for him, there was no line.  There was no Dean, there was clarity. 

     Solomon got exactly one word out, “Wait…”  

     Jensen pulled back his fist and punched him square in the face, knocking him on his ass.

     He ran to that ambulance.  On a mission and with one purpose, he tore the door open.  

     You were sitting on a gurney, struggling against the medic who was trying to keep you from bolting.  Bruised and bloody.  But breathing!  The second you saw him, you went still, your bottom lip quivered.

     “Jensen.”

     The medic proved smarter than the F.B.I. agents and moved out of the way, allowing Jensen the room to take you in his arms.  That was when you broke completely.  Sobbing and desperately clinging to him like a child.  You weren’t sure how you got there.  One minute you were in that tree being stalked by a killer, the next you were being bundled into an ambulance.  It was so surreal!  It wasn’t until you heard Jensen on the other side of the door that you snapped.  Reality crashed over you, and you couldn’t breathe. 

     Jensen tried to will his own panic away.  You were alive.  He had you.  Bloody and trembling, but in his arms.  He could hear himself telling you soothing things.  Comforting words that he would never be able to recall later.  He was sure you couldn’t understand him anyway, you were crying so hard that your whole body shook. 

     But his voice was a balm, the timbre of it washed over you.  After a time, the raw shock wore through to numbness.  You drew a shuddering breath and tried to speak. 

     “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice coming from just over your head.  “I’m right here.”

     You released your death grip on Jensen’s jacket and snuck a look at your hands.  There were burn marks there from the gun powder.  Across the clearing, two men were maneuvering a stretcher over the gravel.  A black body bag was strapped to the top.

     “I killed him.”

     Jensen gently brushed the tangled hair away from your face.  His gaze followed yours to the body being taken away.  It could have so easily been you.  He rubbed his hand down your back and tucked your head under his chin.

     “Don’t look, baby.  Don’t think about it.  Never again.”

     The EMT reappeared, insisting that you go to the hospital.  He listed a number of injuries that needed attention.  Including another fucking concussion.

     You managed a weak laugh, “Look at us, right back where we started.”

     “At least you didn’t drown this time, your average is improving,” Jensen said, kissing your forehead.

     With practiced efficiency, the medic had you secured and ready for transport.  Just as the door was about to shut, Frank Solomon appeared.  His jaw was discolored and starting to swell where Jensen landed his punch. 

     Jensen smirked, “Back for round two?”

     “The ambulance is already at capacity, let’s not chance it.”  Solomon’s dark eyes shifted to you.  The arrogance drained away, and he seemed softer.  Almost repentant. 

      “Doctor West, I wanted to let you know that the death of Arthur Green officially closes this case.  You are no longer under any obligation to the F.B.I. for any purpose and you are free to resume your life.”

     “You won’t need me to make a statement?”

     “We have everything we need.  And I have to say, without your cooperation and your bravery, we never would have gotten Green let alone shut down the drug ring.  This victory is yours.”

     “I shot a man.  Deserved or not, that doesn’t feel particularly victorious.”

     Solomon blinked slowly, “You didn’t shoot Arthur Green.”

     “What?”

     “Barely clipped his shoulder, but I hardly call that a shot,” the agent shrugged, his casual manner back in place.  “One of the Mounted Police got him… Roberts, I think.  One clean shot to the head.  Green was dead before he hit the ground.”

     You could have lived with the death on your conscience, knowing it had been self-defense.  But the fact that you didn’t have to, freed you.  Well and truly.  Lightness settled in where guilt had been only a moment ago.  Words failed you.  An astonished gasp left your lips, and you let you head rest against Jensen’s shoulder.

     “Goodbye, Doctor West.  Mr. Ackles.”  Solomon shut the door and thumped it twice. 

     The ambulance slowly rolled away to begin its descent down the mountain.  Jensen’s hand found yours under the emergency blanket tucked over your lap.

     “It’s over.”

     “Yeah, it’s all over, Sweetheart” he murmured, kissing your temple.

     You and Jensen would talk about the incredible circumstances of how you got together often over the years.  You would muse on the workings of fate and God’s grand plan.  You would wonder at the impossibility of it all. 

     Surely, there must have been an easier way for two lost souls to meet.

     But then, meeting wouldn’t have been enough.  The two of you were drowning; separately but equally.  The miserable details of your own lives were pulling you under like a riptide.  It was so all-consuming that you couldn’t break free.  You weren’t strong enough, not alone. 

     It was like Jensen said that day in your old apartment, make a different choice.  The two of you chose to save each other.  But you also chose to let yourself to be saved.  It wasn’t passive and it wasn’t by chance.  It was a decision.  Perhaps not always an easy one, but it had power. 

     Love does conquer all, but only if you choose it.  TagList @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseubyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @deanwwinchester

[trektraveler]

Nightingale Chapter Seventeen - All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Seventeen: All Around the Cobbler's Bench

Word Count: 5279

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing! Author's Additional Notes: This is it. The last chapter. The Conclusion to my story! (There will be an epilogue to follow) I started this over a year and a half ago, and here we are, finished!! There were plenty of times I wondered if I'd ever get there. But with the steadfast encouragement of all of you, I found the inspiration and the drive. Thank all of you who read this and showered me with love. I am forever grateful!

Series Masterlist

     Jensen checked his watch again while he tapped his fingers against his leg trying to rid himself of the anxious energy.  You’d been in the restroom for fifteen minutes and while women tended to take longer in the bathroom, it was unusual for you.  Other girls had come and gone in that time, and he was beginning to worry.  Deciding to hell with it, he knocked loudly to announce himself and entered.

     “Y/N?  Sweetheart?  The play is starting…”

     The room was empty and something about the eerie silence sent an ominous chill down his spine.  Not a trace of you anywhere, as if you’d evaporated into thin air!  Desperate, he pushed open the stall doors and last one revealed a woman crumpled against the wall.  He recognized the scuffed sneakers as your favorites and the denim jacket with the frayed sleeves.  And the fall of golden hair.

     Frantic, he dropped to his knees, “Y/N!  Baby?!” 

     He grabbed hold of your shoulder and pulled.  Your head rolled back and revealed a deeply slit throat and a stranger’s face.

     Dead.  He could tell it at a glance, but it wasn’t you!  The poor soul had been dressed in your clothes and a very convincing blonde wig. 

     “Shit!”  Jensen scrambled to his feet and burst out of the room.  He frantically searched the crowd of people while dialing his emergency number.

      “Solomon.”

      “She’s gone!  She’s gone, you son of a bitch!  You said she was safe!”

     “We show Y/N in the ladies’ room on the east end of the pavilion.” 

      “Her clothes are there along with a fucking dead body!  He’s got her!  Fuck!”

      “Stay where you are,” the agent barked through the phone while people shuffled in the background. 

      He took off at a jog, trying to scan the faces for yours, “Like hell I will!”

      “That’s an order, Ackles!  I need details, not another missing person.  I have agents converging on your location.”

      Jensen ended the call and tried your number.  It rang several times then went to voicemail.  “Sweetheart, if you get this, just hang on.  I’m coming.  I swear to God… I’m coming to get you.”

       Consciousness came to you in fragments.  Different parts of your body were numb.  There was a pins and needles feeling that came with having been in one position for too long.  Your eyes felt dry and raw, although you hadn’t opened them yet.  Your throat felt the same and there was a really unpleasant smell coming from somewhere.  An artificial and over-powering cherry scent mixed with sour sweat.  Suddenly, your whole frame was jolted, and the side of your head connected with something cold and hard.  It was enough to pull you out of the semi-conscious daze you’d been in, your eyes popped open as your head bounced off the passenger side window. 

     You sat more upright with a groan and rubbed your head, “What…?”

     This wasn’t Jensen’s car.  The dashboard was faded blue and cracked from the sun.  An ancient radio with silver knobs played an old song from the sixties.  The cardboard cherry air freshener swinging from the rearview was at least partly to blame for the oppressive stench.  The man in the driver’s seat was to blame for the rest.

     “Pharmaceuticals have come such a long way, haven’t they?  That little trip was courtesy of a new and very effective benzodiazepine.  Administered through absorption through the skin.  Remarkable.  It’s hung up in clinical trials, but those of us with connections can still have our fun.”

     Your gaze slid to the man behind the wheel and your stomach knotted.  Now that he had his glasses on and his hair was brushed back from his face, he looked much like he did back in New York.  Large, hawk-like nose.  Sharp cheekbones, eyebrows like dark slashes over nearly black eyes. 

     “Of course, the best part is that although you looked like a drunk sorority girl, you were still wide awake inside,” his lips pulled into a disturbing grin.  “Hate for you to miss out.”

     He was right.  You’d been awake while he and that girl stripped you naked and dressed you in her clothes.  You’d been useless to fight them as they pulled a wig down on your head.  You were trapped in your own body, only able to witness the horror has he killed her right in front of you.  In your mind, you screamed while he seamlessly ushered you past Jensen and into the crowd.  Right under the noses of the undercover agents who were meant to protect you. 

     You forced your mind to focus.  Agent Solomon had gone over countless scenarios with you, and this was one of them.  You quickly took inventory and noted that every scrap of clothing had been removed or replaced.  Your tracking monitor, your cell phone, your pepper spray and pocketknife.  Anything that might have been useful was long gone. 

     Except the blue paisley tie Jensen wrapped around your wrist.  You could still feel the cool silk against your skin.  Your tether to him and a reminder that you still had access to one thing that might help you.  The fourth wall.  The stage was set, and this was just another part to play.  If you gave a convincing enough performance, you might just come out of this alive.

     “Where are you taking me?” you asked as you pulled the frayed seatbelt over your shoulder and secured it.

     “Tsk, Tsk!  Telling would ruin the surprise, and you know how much I love a good surprise.”

     You scanned the scenery whizzing past and found it unfamiliar.  A two-lane road cut through thick woodland as the sun began to set.  No signs other than the occasional mile marker and warnings about rockslides.  Your ears popped, confirming you were headed to higher elevation and farther away from civilization.

      Show time.

     “Why haven’t you killed me?”  You ripped the auburn-colored wig from your head and tossed it to the floor. 

     “Do you want me to?” he returned, patting the handgun in his lap.

     Panic tried to rise like bile in your throat.  You pushed it down and snatched the half full pack of cigarettes from the dash. 

     “What I want is to wake up safe at home with a beer and left-over pizza in the fridge, but we don’t always get what we want.”

     “Beer and pizza,” Arthur repeated with a scoff.  “Sophistication never was your strong suit, Y/N.  One of Colin’s many grievances about you.”

     “What I lacked in sophistication, I made up for in eagerness.”  You lit a cigarette and took a long drag, “I certainly never heard any complaints about that.”

     “Slut.  Useless whore.  No wonder you shacked up with a Hollywood scumbag like Ackles.  You probably fuck him for a weekly allowance.”  His fingers tightened around the wheel as he spoke, “Colin deserved so much better than you.”

     “Someone like you, I suppose.”  You barked out a laugh as Green turned red from the neck up, “Jesus, you’re not still carrying a torch for a dead man, are you?  That’s pathetic, Artie.  It really is.  You know he just kept you around out of pity.  Poor little Artie from the block…”

     He backhanded you right across the mouth.  Your lip split and you tasted blood.

     “Shut up!  Just shut your whore mouth!”  He grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the window, making you groan and slump in your seat.  Your vison went hazy, but you kept conscious.

     “You conniving bitch… you had to go to the feds!  If it wasn’t for that I’d have killed you quick and been done with it.  One last loose end… but not now.  Now, I get creative.  I’ll start with your little boy toy; carve his pretty face up so not even his own mother will recognize him.  Your bestie with those cute kids?  I’ll strangle her to death while they watch.”

     You didn’t say anything, waiting him out as he raged on, “Oh!  But what about your baby sister?  Frankie.  Well, let’s just say she’ll wish she’d died in that car wreck by the time I get through with her.”

     With Arthur’s rage distracting him, you saw your opening and you took it.  The cigarette was still clenched in your fist.  Your hand shot out and you crushed the glowing cherry into his face.  It sizzled and he screamed.

     He howled in pain, and you grabbed the wheel, yanking it with all your might!  The two of you fought for control and sent the truck into a spin.  The back end fishtailed, and the tires squealed.  The world went topsy turvy around you as the truck went careening off the road with a deafening crash.  Then, silence.

     “Black SUV, headed east on Market.  That’s the last we see of it until it popped up abandoned in the Whole Foods parking lot.”

     “We got the video from them?”

     “Nada.  Their surveillance system went down last week.”

     “Safe bet that was our perp.  Get the last recordings they have in the database, let’s see if Green shows his face.”

      “SUV registered to Mrs. Barbara Perkins, deceased.”

     “Naturally.  Get a trace on that name, address, bank accounts, the works.”

      Jensen had never felt more useless in his life.  While the FBI agents bustled around their make-shift headquarters, he was sitting in an office chair.  Waiting.  There was literally nothing else he could do.  They already knew what Green looked like, even disguised as a fangirl.  The pics of Jensen signing autographs went live on social media almost instantaneously.  There were all sorts of video surveillance of him walking around the park and walking a stumbling girl through the parking lot.  It was as if he was showing off.  Flaunting his deeds to the authorities who were oblivious to it all.

      Jensen felt sick at the thought of how close you were.  Green had walked you right by him and he didn’t even know it!  His mind kept going to the dead woman wearing your clothes.  Blood everywhere.  Running like a river from her slit throat.  It could have so easily been you.  It still could, and that thought chilled him to the bone.

     The video was good for one thing though, it confirmed that you had been very much alive when you left with him.  Jensen was holding on to that fact like a lifeline!  You were smart and you were a fighter.  You’d come back, you had to.  He had a whole life planned out and every day of it included you.  Marriage.  Children.  Big family Christmases.  Quiet date nights.  He even planned a proposal in Paris.  You told him you always wanted to go and making your dreams come true had become an obsession for him.  Nothing made him happy like making you happy.  His life wasn’t his own, it was forever intertwined with yours. 

      In the immortal words of his alter-ego, “There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you.”

      When his phone rang, his heart nearly stopped.  He didn’t recognize the number, but knew it was you.  “Y/N?!”

     “Jensen!  Oh God…!”

      Agent Solomon was on him instantly to hand the phone over, he refused.  But he did put it on speaker.  “Sweetheart, where are you?  Are you okay?!”

     The connection was tenuous, making your voice fade in and out. 

     “I’m okay… not… don’t know…. Arthur crashed…”

     “Crashed?!  What happened?”

      Solomon grabbed the phone, “Doctor West, are you with Green right now?”

     “No.  We crashed…. Left…”

     “Was he alive when you saw him last?”

     “…. Unconscious… don’t…. “

      “What kind of vehicle was he driving?”

     “Blue pickup… Dairyland.”

      “Dairyland?”  Jensen repeated. 

     “AJ… 677.”

      “Wisconsin plates,” Solomon signaled to his agents to run a search.  Even fragmented information would pull up something.

     “Doctor West, do you know where you are?”

     “Highway.  I don’t… mountains.  Jay!  Its… otter… Kimmy…”

     The agent locked eyes with Jensen, “What is she talking about?”

     “I don’t know,” he shook his head.  “Kimmy who?”

     “Kim… makeup… otter tattoo.”

     It clicked for him then.  The makeup artist who designed her own tattoos, Kimmy.  She’d been quite taken with Y/N when she went to the set that day.

      “It’s Mount Harvey, the snow melt on the south face looks like an otter playing baseball.”

      “Good.  Doctor West, we’re coming to you.”

      If she heard, she didn’t reply.  The phone screen showed the call dropped.  Solomon handed the phone to one of his team to pull trace information while he barked orders.  The well-oiled team shifted into their roles.  Dispatch communicated with local authorities on every level.  One of the advantages of working with the FBI, they were practiced in the art of the manhunt.  It wasn’t a question of if they would get Green, but when.  And would it be in time?

     “Ackles, you’re with me.”

     Jensen looked up in time to catch a bulletproof vest with FBI printed across the chest. 

     “I don’t have civilians on my tactical team as a rule,” Solomon informed him, zipping up his own vest.  “But you know Y/N better than anyone, I need your insight.  Let’s move.”

     You weren’t sure how far you’d gotten or how long you’d been walking.  It seemed like forever.  That ancient truck Arthur had been driving actually turned out to be a blessing.  The frame was good, old fashioned American steel and took the brunt of the crash without much damage.  The seatbelt did its job and prevented you from being thrown through the windshield.  Although, it dug into you with enough force that you likely had a broken clavicle and possibly a dislocated shoulder.  It throbbed like a son of a bitch, but you still made out better than Green. 

     He was going over sixty miles per hour when he crashed, and he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.  He was slumped over the steering wheel, bleeding from a deep gash on his scalp and covered in broken glass from the shattered windshield.  The doctor in you wanted to check for a pulse, but your visual assessment would have to do.  He was breathing, and that was enough.  You knew time wasn’t on your side, you needed to put as much distance between the two of you as possible. 

      You made a quick search of his pockets and found both a phone and a handgun.  The passenger side door was bashed in, making it impossible to escape through the door or the window.  With a quick glance to confirm your kidnapper was still unconscious, you freed yourself from the seatbelt and climbed over the dash and through the shattered windshield.  You ignored the pain of the broken glass tearing into your hands and legs. 

     You had to get out and make a run for it, it was your only chance!

     The charge on the cell was dwindling as it searched for a signal, but the fates were with you, and it connected.  The sound of Jensen’s voice nearly broke you.  You held yourself together enough to get as much information out as you could before the call dropped. 

     “No, no damn it!”  Your fingers shook as you tried to call again, only to be me with no service.  You looked around at the dense trees lining the two-lane highway and the rapidly setting sun.  Tears blurred your vision and the weight of your situation hit you in force.

     There was nowhere to go for help, you didn’t even know where you were!  The adrenaline in your system was fading and you could feel the effects of shock setting in.  Injured in a car wreck coupled with who knows what the side effects of that drug Arthur shot you up with.   You well and truly screwed.

     You bent at the waist; your hands braced on your knees as you fought the rising panic.  The blue patterned silk tied to your wrist peeked out from under your shirt cuff. 

     “Breathe, Y/N.”

     “I can’t.”

     “I’m right here, Sweetheart.  I’m with you.”

     “He’s going to kill me!”

     “You can do this, come on.  Deep breath.  In and out.”

     You closed your eyes and rubbed the silk between your finger and thumb.  Like magic, you saw the closet.  Warm and filled with color-coded clothes.  The scent of cedar and vanilla cologne and Jensen smiling. 

     “You’ve got this, Y/N.  Keep moving, keep fighting!  I’m coming for you.”

     The actor’s trick worked.  Your mind cleared and you focused.  Obviously, continuing on foot was only a decent option when you knew where you were going.  You didn’t.  Which meant it was a drain on your energy reserves.  Plus, it would make rescuing you that much more difficult for the people looking for you. 

     You eyed the woods.  It was risky, with nightfall fast approaching, you would have wildlife to contend with and falling temps, but then… so would Green.  If he came to, he’d be looking for you.  Best to make that as difficult as possible. 

     “Stronger together,” you muttered the motto that became a mantra.  Even though he wasn’t holding your hand, Jensen was still with you.  You could still count on him, to remind you what was worth fighting for. 

     With the gun heavy in your hand, you climbed down the embankment and disappeared into the forest.

     “R.C.M.P. clocked a vehicle matching Green’s heading north on 99.  Last spotted an hour ago just passing Lion’s Bay.”

     “Any confirmation on passengers?”

     “Two.  A male and a female.”

     “Given the timeframe of the crash, they couldn’t have gotten much farther than that.”

     “Any hits on the cell?”

     “No, sir.”

     “Keep trying.  If she’s on the move, we might get lucky.”

     Jensen kept quiet as he sat in the back of the SUV.  The flurry of clipped commands yielded no new information.  They were racing towards you, but there was no way to know if they would make it in time.  Jensen tugged at the tie on his wrist while his mind worked over-time.  Were you hurt?  Scared?  Running or hiding?  Were you alive? 

     God please, let her be alive!

     As if on cue, his cell phone rang.  Only once, before the call dropped, but it was your number.  And it was enough.

     “Got it!  Moving slow, heading north by northeast towards Tunnel Bluffs.”

     “We’ve got local law in the area about ten minutes out.”

     “All units converge on new coordinates, be advised our witness is currently on foot.”

     “The assailant is considered armed and dangerous, use of full and deadly force authorized for all personnel.”

     The trees on Mount Harvey were thick and grew to impressive proportions.  Massive, monolithic firs and pines that held the record for some of the biggest on Earth.  Tangles of undergrowth and roots covered every inch of the forest floor, you lost your footing more than once.  Every fall slowed you down and added to your injuries.  The sun dropped to just below the horizon and the temperature went with it.

     You leaned heavily against one of the pines to catch your breath.  Your physical reserves were nearly gone, and you knew it.  There was just enough daylight left to make out a tree a few feet away.  It had an unusual split in its trunk.  Limping and cradling your arm to ease the pressure on your shoulder, you poked around in the gap.  Mostly filled with decomposing leaves, but big enough to shelter you for the night. 

     You squeezed your body through the opening and bit back a grunt as the bark scraped your injuries.  It wasn’t comfortable, which was for the best.  Your exhausted body was already vying for sleep, anything to counter that was welcome.  The opening wasn’t wide enough to see much, but it was still a defensible position.

     Your frozen fingers flexed around the gun as your eyes worked to adjust to the darkness falling.  The weight of it in your hand was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.  You were a doctor, you saved lives you didn’t take them.  Your thumb clicked off the safety as you committed to the only course of action that would leave you alive.  It would be a long night and you were damn well going to survive it. 

     “All around the cobbler’s bench, the monkey chased the weasel.”

     Your eyes popped open.  When had you shut them?  The phone in your pocket died long ago, so it was impossible to tell how long you’d been in hiding.  The woods were still.  There was no wind or sounds of scuttling wildlife.  But a child’s song, so faint you thought you’d imagined it. 

     “The monkey thought was all in fun.”

     “A penny for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle.”

     “That’s the way the money goes.”

      “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     There it was again.  Singing.  You were sure you hadn’t imagined it, it had to be Arthur.  God!  It seemed like you were making a racket!  Your breathing, your heartbeat, your eyelashes blinking rapidly as you desperately scanned the inky shadows.  Why did sound amplify in the cold and the dark?  It all seemed to be announcing your location to the man who was coming to murder you. 

     “Up and down the London road.”

     “In and out of the Eagle.”

     “That’s the way the money goes.”

     “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     He was playing with you.  The monkey and the weasel.  Cat and mouse.  You should have kept running!  Should have kept to the road, someone would have seen you.  You would have stood a chance!  Now you were in a trap of your own making.

     “I’ve no time to plead and pine.”

     “I’ve no time to wheedle.”

     “Kiss me quick and then I’m gone.”

     “Pop!  Goes the weasel!”

     The echo of the woods distorted Arthur’s voice so that you had no clue where he was coming from.  Running now would do you no good.  It was too late.  The son of a bitch was closing in on you now.  Would they even be able to find your body?  Would Jensen ever know what became of you?  You should have ran the minute you remembered your name. 

     “All around the cobbler’s bench.”

     “Arthur chased the doctor.”

     “The doctor thought was all in fun…”

     God, please keep him safe from the psychopath.  And Frankie!  Make sure they know I love them!  No matter what happens to me… I love you!

     “Pop!”

     Arthur.  Blood, dirt, and broken glass.  A twisted grin split his grotesque face. 

     Time stopped; a shot rang out.  Then, nothing.

     Jensen stood with the small, second group of agents investigating the crashed truck.  Two sets of footprints disappeared into the woods and the first round of FBI had already spread out into the wilderness to join the Mounties and broaden the search.

     The report of a gunshot echoed all the way back to the road.

     His blood ran cold.  “Y/N.”

     A hand went to Jensen’s Kevlar covered chest before he could move.  Bruce, the iron faced agent assigned to the actor, held him in place.

     "Let me go!"

     "Not a chance."

     "That was a fucking gunshot!"

     "Yeah, it was.  You take off now, the next one might have your name on it."

     “I don’t care!”

     "Right now, every resource we have is focused on Y/N.  You go out there and those resources get split, cutting her chance at survival in half.”

     Jensen turned away, running his hands through his hair.  “Fuck!”

     "We've all got a job to do.  Yours is communication,” Bruce put a steady hand on Jensen’s shoulder.  “You want to help your girl?   Stay put.  Be here and be ready to answer when she calls."

     Knowing Bruce was right didn't make the next hour of waiting any easier.  It was agony.  There was no word.  Not a sound from anyone.  Radio silence, Agent Bruce called it.  He seemed to think it was a positive sign, but it was driving Jensen insane.  Each minute that passed brought a horrible new thought.  A potential nightmare that could play out right in front of him.  And he was powerless to prevent it.

     He was past the end of his rope when an ambulance came into view and sped past them.  Traveling at breakneck speed up the mountain. Flashing lights bouncing off the trees and rock face. 

     Bruce held a finger to the tiny Speaker in his ear.  A grim look passed his features.

     "Let's move."

     He said nothing more.  No word on if you were alive or dead.  No hint at who that ambulance was for.  An hour ago, Jensen would have sworn he'd reached his capacity for worry and stress.  But that was nothing compared to the five minutes it took to reach the clearing.  There was a mass of people milling around.  F.B.I. he recognized and a few others outfitted in uniforms for the R.C.M.P.  That ambulance was parked off to the side, the back door was closed but the lights were still flashing.  Several other official looking vehicles showed up, including one for the coroner’s office. 

     Jensen was out of the car before Bruce even put it in park.  He caught the slender build of Frank Solomon, casually talking to a couple of other agents by the rail guard.  The son of a bitch was acting like he’d completed a milk run!  Jensen’s nostrils flared with rage as he made a direct path for him.

     The young man looked up, seemingly unphased by the Texan’s aggressive approach.

     "Ackles.”

     "Where is she?!"

     Solomon’s mouth opened, but it wasn’t his voice that was heard.  A shrill, terrified scream came from inside the ambulance, cutting through the night.

      "Jensen!"

     He'd spent fifteen years stepping into the boots of Dean Winchester.  Fighting monsters.  Some you could see, some you couldn't.  But no matter how close he was to the hero he portrayed; it was still an act.  Though there were plenty of times he’d wished it were real.  Wished he were more like the enigmatic man in the ’67 Chevy.  The man who always knew what to do.  The man who always saved the day.

     And yes, he would let his ‘Dean’ show from time to time.  That was a blurred line that proved useful more than once.  But in that moment when you screamed for him, there was no line.  There was no Dean, there was clarity. 

     Solomon got exactly one word out, “Wait…”  

     Jensen pulled back his fist and punched him square in the face, knocking him on his ass.

     He ran to that ambulance.  On a mission and with one purpose, he tore the door open.  

     You were sitting on a gurney, struggling against the medic who was trying to keep you from bolting.  Bruised and bloody.  But breathing!  The second you saw him, you went still, your bottom lip quivered.

     “Jensen.”

     The medic proved smarter than the F.B.I. agents and moved out of the way, allowing Jensen the room to take you in his arms.  That was when you broke completely.  Sobbing and desperately clinging to him like a child.  You weren’t sure how you got there.  One minute you were in that tree being stalked by a killer, the next you were being bundled into an ambulance.  It was so surreal!  It wasn’t until you heard Jensen on the other side of the door that you snapped.  Reality crashed over you, and you couldn’t breathe. 

     Jensen tried to will his own panic away.  You were alive.  He had you.  Bloody and trembling, but in his arms.  He could hear himself telling you soothing things.  Comforting words that he would never be able to recall later.  He was sure you couldn’t understand him anyway, you were crying so hard that your whole body shook. 

     But his voice was a balm, the timbre of it washed over you.  After a time, the raw shock wore through to numbness.  You drew a shuddering breath and tried to speak. 

     “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice coming from just over your head.  “I’m right here.”

     You released your death grip on Jensen’s jacket and snuck a look at your hands.  There were burn marks there from the gun powder.  Across the clearing, two men were maneuvering a stretcher over the gravel.  A black body bag was strapped to the top.

     “I killed him.”

     Jensen gently brushed the tangled hair away from your face.  His gaze followed yours to the body being taken away.  It could have so easily been you.  He rubbed his hand down your back and tucked your head under his chin.

     “Don’t look, baby.  Don’t think about it.  Never again.”

     The EMT reappeared, insisting that you go to the hospital.  He listed a number of injuries that needed attention.  Including another fucking concussion.

     You managed a weak laugh, “Look at us, right back where we started.”

     “At least you didn’t drown this time, your average is improving,” Jensen said, kissing your forehead.

     With practiced efficiency, the medic had you secured and ready for transport.  Just as the door was about to shut, Frank Solomon appeared.  His jaw was discolored and starting to swell where Jensen landed his punch. 

     Jensen smirked, “Back for round two?”

     “The ambulance is already at capacity, let’s not chance it.”  Solomon’s dark eyes shifted to you.  The arrogance drained away, and he seemed softer.  Almost repentant. 

      “Doctor West, I wanted to let you know that the death of Arthur Green officially closes this case.  You are no longer under any obligation to the F.B.I. for any purpose and you are free to resume your life.”

     “You won’t need me to make a statement?”

     “We have everything we need.  And I have to say, without your cooperation and your bravery, we never would have gotten Green let alone shut down the drug ring.  This victory is yours.”

     “I shot a man.  Deserved or not, that doesn’t feel particularly victorious.”

     Solomon blinked slowly, “You didn’t shoot Arthur Green.”

     “What?”

     “Barely clipped his shoulder, but I hardly call that a shot,” the agent shrugged, his casual manner back in place.  “One of the Mounted Police got him… Roberts, I think.  One clean shot to the head.  Green was dead before he hit the ground.”

     You could have lived with the death on your conscience, knowing it had been self-defense.  But the fact that you didn’t have to, freed you.  Well and truly.  Lightness settled in where guilt had been only a moment ago.  Words failed you.  An astonished gasp left your lips, and you let you head rest against Jensen’s shoulder.

     “Goodbye, Doctor West.  Mr. Ackles.”  Solomon shut the door and thumped it twice. 

     The ambulance slowly rolled away to begin its descent down the mountain.  Jensen’s hand found yours under the emergency blanket tucked over your lap.

     “It’s over.”

     “Yeah, it’s all over, Sweetheart” he murmured, kissing your temple.

     You and Jensen would talk about the incredible circumstances of how you got together often over the years.  You would muse on the workings of fate and God’s grand plan.  You would wonder at the impossibility of it all. 

     Surely, there must have been an easier way for two lost souls to meet.

     But then, meeting wouldn’t have been enough.  The two of you were drowning; separately but equally.  The miserable details of your own lives were pulling you under like a riptide.  It was so all-consuming that you couldn’t break free.  You weren’t strong enough, not alone. 

     It was like Jensen said that day in your old apartment, make a different choice.  The two of you chose to save each other.  But you also chose to let yourself to be saved.  It wasn’t passive and it wasn’t by chance.  It was a decision.  Perhaps not always an easy one, but it had power. 

     Love does conquer all, but only if you choose it.  TagList @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsurdity @starryeyeseubyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4evr @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @deanwwinchester

[wandawiccan60]

"That's A Wrap!!!"

A Reggie Kray X Abigail Hathorne(FemOC) One-Shot

***LIT SMUT***

A/N: Hey everyone I hope you all are doing good and yes I haven't posted much I actually wanted to take a little "break" and also just haven't been feeling myself lately. But I wanted to give you guys a new One-Shot. And this time finally I'm touching on my favorite gnagster of all time, Reggie Kray. I actually was daydreaming about this piece of cinema a couple of days ago and I said "Reggie and his GF making love in the movies?" what an idea right? And here it is and I hope you all enjoy this short and fun short story of Reggie and Abigail. Again thank you all for the support and please comment and reblog it'll mean a lot for me and my blog as a whole. Thank you to each and every one of you guys love you guys to death. As always guys please enjoy and see you in the next post. See Ya!!!!

MORE OF THE PRINCE OF EAST LONDON???X👈🏻(If you want to go out with him Saturday night?💞💓😇)

ONE-SHOT/DRABBLE MASTERLIST

TAGS: @hecatemoon87, @kittycatcait219, @zablife, @theshelbyslimited, @theshelbyclan, @mollybegger-blog, @professor-alfie-solomons, @pottersolomons2, @potter-solomons, @tomhardyspinkyfinger, @jarvisrocks, @alikaheroes, @annisse, @rikki-b-lake, @solomons-finest-rum, @symbean, @omgeternal, @ao3feed-symbrock, @weirdgirl16355, @thefics-that-drip, @ninja-potato-shelby-solomons, @raincoffeeandfandoms, @bubblyani, @buttercup32sstuff, @darklydeliciousdesires, @rayanee05, @thehardy-boys, @thealmightybitchgoddess, @tea-atfive, @smellslikeillusorydreams, @mariadecapitated, @97freaknik, @edwardthomashardy1, @veddieiscanon, @quarterpastmidnight, @queencoraline3, @queenofthefaceless-main,

Word Count: 4,520

WARNING 18+ ONLY!!!: Mentions of Violence, Some Graphic Blood, Mentions of Trauma, Death, Gang Affiliations, Fluff, and Lit SMUT

💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹

Abigail and Reggie had been together for almost a year since he laid eyes on her that night at The Esmeralda’s Barn. It was very unexpected for Abigail to encounter the notorious and fearful prince gangster of East London. She was solely focused on getting herself a quick drink to enjoy the many cheerful sounds of the people surrounding her. In her perspective, she never had a single thought of ever finding a man in a place such as The Esmeralda’s Barn. But that thought alone would change her point of view of men when she met Reggie that same night when he step foot inside the hall of the club.

It happened so quickly when Abigail was sitting alone at the bar counter while drinking her second cup of red wine since she got there. She didn’t notice his presence after she heard that smooth, charming, and yet booming voice he possesses once Abigail eyed him sideways.

“Two gins like usual,” Reggie said while he took out his pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips as he lit it up with his small gold light. 

Abigail suddenly felt chills running down her spine as she caressed the top of the cup with her right finger. Lost in her thoughts, however, the man behind the bar came back with some drinks that they accidentally tumbled in front of Abigail. Making her gasp, and stood up on her feet at the cold liquid now all over her long sleeve dark brown dress.

“I’m deeply sorry miss, please let me help you clean that for you,” the bartender said in a panicked and stuttering voice, trying to find a towel for Abigail to dry herself up.

“You mate, yea, FUCK OFF NOW!!!” said Reggie, shouting out at the young man behind the counter. He didn’t question him back and did what he was told.

Some people around her were looking on, suddenly feeling embarrassed as her cheeks became red as blood. 

“Sweetheart, you alrigh’? Come on, I’ll escort you to the ladies’ room so you can get yourself clean up, yea? And I’m sorry abou’ that young lad, he is a bit of a clumsy bastard but he won’t be coming back here anymore now. But I am terribly sorry abou’ that love,” the tall man said as he was then handed a small wet towel from Albert as he gently placed it against her dress.

“No, it is alright. It’s not a big deal this happened to me before, believe me, but thank you, good sir,” Abigail said as she and Reggie made their way through the crowd making their way to the bathroom.

“Sir? Did you just call me sir? That is actually very cute of you there love, from now on alrigh’ you will only call me by my first name. And that is Reggie, not sir, yea? Especially for a lovely-looking woman like you, that seems so pure and innocent just by looking into your eyes,” he said as Abigail gave a smile at his nice compliment.

After about an hour later of cleaning her dress to the best of her ability, she then made her way out of the ladies’ room. To her surprise, Reggie was there waiting for her all this time, which made her feel a bit confused.

“Reggie, were you really waiting for me all this time? Why?” Abigail said in a shy tone as he took another drag from his white cigarette and let out a slow and smooth blow.

“Because why not?” he said, making a small shrug of his shoulders as he walked his way to her, taking another puff of his cigarette, “I wanted to know you looked good and well, you are pretty much alone around here. Wanted to ask if maybe if you don’ mind I be some company for you tonight if that is something you wish to have?”

Abigail didn’t know what to say about this unexpected request from someone as handsome as Reggie did. She then bit her bottom lips lightly, trying to accept his request or reject him, since Abigail felt like it wasn’t what she wasn’t expecting tonight. She never really had any boys come up to her and ask her for a drink or a dance since she got there at the club. Abigail was thinking of leaving after she got her second cup of wine until Reggie came along tonight.

“Well, I was thinking of leaving right now but… actually…,” Abigail’s words trailed off for a second while collapsing her hands together once again, feeling her face flushed red again.

She could feel Reggie’s warm presence as he took in another puff from his cigarette as he side smiled in her direction.

“How abou’ this then yea? Would you like to go out with me sometime this week, like maybe Saturday night? I can take you on a nice dinner date and I’ll let you choose whatever place you like. If that is something you might like and be interested in and also if you feel comfortable, of course. It is up to you, darlin’, and if you say no, I’ll respectfully take your word, love.”

Before Abigail could speak again, a gentleman with a very nice-looking suit and his light brown hair combed smoothly back on his head, then disrupted them. 

“Reggie Jack is here, and he wants to speak to ya, and he said it’s urgent too,” the man said as he noticed Abigail in front of him, “Oh my apologizes miss for the interruption, I’ll see you in a bit Reg.”

Reggie just nodded his head as the man left them alone again, seeing his facial expression change, looking a bit disappointed at being called for.

“I must go now love, I’m very sorry to leave you soon. If you want to find me and need anything, I’ll be sitting with my brother at a corner table booth. Again I must apologize miss… I’m sorry, what’s your name dear?” 

“Abigail, my name is Abigail Hathorne, but you can just call me Abi for sort,” she said, giving Reggie a small smile. 

“Abigail, well, that is quite a lovely name. I like it a lot. It was a pleasure to meet you then and again. I apologize for leaving you in such circumstances, really. But you have a lovely nigh’ love,” Reggie said as he now made his way down the small brown-lit hallway until Abigail called out to him and placed a hand on his left forearm.

“Reggie wait, I… I accept your date with you and what do you say maybe 7:30 at night at most? And if that hour fits for you, then as well?” she said, feeling nervous now that she quickly welcomed his offer.

Reggie did that same attractive side smile at her, and Abigail looked away for a moment.

“Of course Abi, Saturday night at 7:30 in the evening. I’ll be there for you then. Would you like another drink with me, love hmm?” he said as he searched for those brown almond eyes that he had been growing fond of since this entire night.

“Hehe… I would love that very much Mr. Kray,” she said as she looked up at his astonishing brown dark eyes, which he then gave her a quick wink.

“Right this way than Ms. Hathorne.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Having a movie date night was one of the best things that Abigail enjoyed the most when Reggie wasn’t away from work. She already knew what type of business Reggie and older brother Ronnie were into, not really minding how much blood and bones were being broken or shed. Especially that one night when he was released from prison, he and Ronnie got into a terrible fight with each other. Finding out that Ronnie was going overboard and fucking their entire system while he was away made Reggie infuriated, and they got into a bloody fight. Abigail felt devastated at seeing both brothers fight almost each other to death, but after all, they were still brothers by blood in the end. 

Reggie afterward felt terrible that Abigail had to witness such a thing, but she didn’t mind it for one bit since she had seen that type of violence growing up with her older brother Vincent. 

Back in Manhattan, where she and her family used to live, wasn’t such a pleasant and welcoming area. Filled with lots of poverty, violence, drugs, and alcohol, and almost everywhere she would go there would be girls hanging out on the sidewalks. Her brother Vincent was a good boy, the best brother she could ever have and asked for. But he did some things that no young boy isn’t supposed to do at such a young age. Vincent joined a gang for a small period, where he had to beat the living hell out of anybody that his boss would tell him to do. He has seen things that made him have nightmares almost every night that her parents didn’t know what to do with him. They didn’t know about his little secret about him being in a gang, but Abigail was the only one who knew about his secret troubles. It saddened Abigail to see her big brother go through such multiple traumas, knowing that she kept it between herself and Vincent. One time she accidentally stumbled upon his brother hitting this other young boy in an alley when she went out with a friend. She remembered really clearly how the boy’s face was covered in both his and Vincent’s blood and she felt disgusted to see such a thing. Vicent realized her little sister and her friend as he then gave the big another big hit, making him go out old and tumbled down to the cold pavement floor. He took out a small red towel as he cleaned his bloody knuckles while Abigail’s friend breathed in and out uncontrollably. Abigail only stood there quiet and frightened to see his brother do such horrifying things, not knowing what to think about his actions. Abigails’s friend only ran away from the gruesome scene while Vincent took Abigail’s left arm gently. They walked their way down to an ice cream shop where they would hang out most of the time. Vincent knew inside of his heart he felt terrible to know her sister had to see him that way.

“Abi, hey, look, I’m sorry that you had to see what I did to that boy. You were not meant to see that at all, but I promise you something right now. I will go clean after I win a good amount of money, no matter how much I have to stay. Please don’t tell mom and pops about this too because I know you won’t say a single word of this. Can you do that for me, Little Abi?” he said as he took a spoonful of his vanilla ice cream. Abigail only nodded her head shyly as she was picking out her strawberry ice cream with her spoon.

“Do you really mean it, Vincent, about you going clean? And cross your heart that you will do it whenever you get enough money for us to get out of here?” Abigail said sometime later as she was finishing her ice cream.

“I promise I am being serious with you, dear sister. I cross my heart,” he said, making an X on his chest with his finger, believing in his words.

Mostly when it came to the money, he would store it away in a secret redwood box he hid inside the walls of his room. Promising his sister that one day he and hopefully his parents would understand that they will move out of Manhattan and live a better life than where they were. 

“You will never have to worry about those scary bastards that you hear from outside your room window. We will get out of here no matter what Little Abi, I promise you so much,” he would say one night as he showed her his secret box where the money was stashed.

She patiently waited for Vincent to do the dirty work that he did for his boss. Some weeks later, Vincent however turned his life around after he came back home one night later. He realized he wanted more than just a life of corruption and violence, and risking himself between life and death. So he then had the courage to tell his boss that he quit and wanted nothing to do with him and the rest of the gang. His boss didn’t take it nicely, but he let Vincent go. 

He then got himself back to school, trying to get a degree in something better and wanting to make his family proud to see his oldest son graduate strong. Abigail was very grateful and relive to see him strive in school instead of seeing him in the streets. However, it wasn’t easy to get what he dreamed of and wanted for himself and for his little sister and parents. Until one day, they found her brother dead in a small obscured alleyway around Manhattan. Abigail didn’t lose just a big brother but a best friend, a mentor, and a protector that she will never get back for all eternity. She knew who her killer or killers might have been, but after the police were finding and searching for her brother’s killers. Suddenly, they also were found dead. Their bodies were hanged under a small bridge as their own blood dripped down to their shoes. There wasn’t any justice in her brother’s death but only grief and loss of someone she was close to and someone who promised her a better life than where they all were. 

After two months after the death of Vincent, Abigail and her parents moved out. Ending up going to London out of all places, she and her mother were confused about why his father thought it was better to live in London other than in America. Her father found it would be a fresh start and be away from all the terrible violence around where they lived. He thought it seemed like a better choice and this made her mother upset and thought about it for quite some time. And so that is where she is now and to her surprise, found herself again in the world that she grew up in. But Reggie, however, was another man that she didn’t expect, and also he reminds her too much of Vincent. Reggie is very overprotective of Abigail going out by herself when she had to go to the marketplace or when she just walked her way to work. She found it annoying at first to see Albert and another young gentleman named Frank outside of her front door. But after some time going by, she got used to them being there and then offered their rides to take her anywhere she desired.

Reggie and Abigail then walked their way to the ticket booth and paid for two tickets for the film Cleopatra. Inside the dark, dimly lit theater room, they sat down on the seats where the projector was above them. As they got comfortable with each other, he then looked at Abigail as he gave her a soft small smile, giving her a small kiss on her small sweet lips. She then leaned back for a moment, smiling as bright as the sun.

“Do you want me to get any treats or popcorns for you, babe?” Reggie asked in a whisper, caressing her soft skinny cheek with his hand.

“I”m alright my Reggie thank you, I’m happier that you are here with me, especially on nights like these,” she said placing her hand against his large strong hand, which he chuckled giving her another big kiss on top of her head.

As the lights dimmed, the movie then played. Abigail rested her head against Reggies’ broad chest.

When the movie continued playing sometime later, there was a romance scene that appeared in front of their eyes. Abigail then gave a small kiss on Reggie’s right cheek. Feeling those sweet lips of hers made him feel goosebumps through his body. While having his right arm wrapped around her tiny shoulders, he then softly cupped her chin with his left hand as he gave her a deeper kiss than the first one. Hearing the background audio and music of the movie, their kiss became passionate, sensual, and overall erotic. Abigail placed both of her hands on the side of his face. Reggie caressed her right leg with his hand. Their tongues then dance smoothly between thrift mouths. She let out a quiet moan, making Reggie kiss the side of her neck, biting her bottom lips at his kiss. 

“Reggie…,” she whispered next to his left ear, nibbling his ear as he continued to leave small kisses on her neck down to her left shoulder.

“You like that, don’ you, my little princess?” Reggie said seductively in a whisper, making Abigail get goosebumps through her now warm body.

His hand made its way underneath her black shirt, feeling her silky lingerie panties craving to touch what’s beyond the small material. Abigail let out a soft gasp once she felt his hand caress soothingly against her white panties, giving him those hypnotic eyes that made Reggie go mad. Those familiar begging eyes that Reggie has known already for a while, then move his hand inside of her. Feeling her wet, sloppy pussy between his fingers made Abigail tilt her slowly back. She felt like she was above the clouds, as Reggie tried his best to unbutton her dark blue blouse with his free hand. All the while, she felt one of his fingers thrust in and out of her wet walls, as she then reached for his now aching budge with her right hand. This made Reggie bite gently down on her now exposed collarbone as Abigail caressed and rubbed his hard crotch with her small hand.

“You want me to go down on my knees like a naughty slut? While I take in your hard, lovely cock of yours inside my dirty mouth, babe?” she said devilishly seductively, leaving a small hickey on her left shoulder. 

Reggie then thrust another two more fingers inside of her, making her gasp louder, which he quickly covered her mouth with his right hand.

“Shhhh quiet love,” he said in a whisper as he looked around the theater to see if anyone was around to their surprise they were the only ones there tonight, “You so fuckin’ wicked my little horny spawn, get on your fuckin knees and give daddy some love hmm?”

“Yes daddy, your wish is mine to command,” Abigail said as she slowly made her way down between his legs, she took her small and yet lovely tits of hers out from her small white bra. 

Reggie bite his lips together once he saw Abigail’s nice, small, and round chest while she unbuckled his black belt. Once she got the belt unbuckled, she then went on with his zipper while she gave him a tantalizing look while excavating out his lovely long wood. 

“Just like baby, take out that enormous cock so it can feel that hot and lovely slutty mouth of yours,” he said while caressing her long silky black hair with his hand, as Abigail did what she was told.

Feeling the cool air around his erected bulge, Abigail bites her lips while letting out a small chuckle, knowing what was yet to come. She gently thrust his length with her right hand as she gave a few small kisses on the top of his cock’s head. While her other hand massaged his small yet smooth balls as she then licked the head of his dick. She then slowly consumed his cock with her mouth, making Reggie groan quietly as he felt her warm mouth go lower and lower on him. Abigail then gently bobbed her head up and down in a lovely rhythm while having both of her hands now thrust between his length. All the while licking and sucking Reggie like there is no tomorrow. 

“Fuckin’... shit… Abi… oh babe yes, yes,” Reggie moans out, quietly closing his eyes in concentration, feeling many erotic emotions throughout his tingling body.

She picked up the pace as she then deep throat him as she felt the side of her mouth drip a bit of saliva, not caring if her red lipstick makeup gets sloppy. Her thrusting and sucking became faster while she also closed her eyes in concentration, knowing that she wants to make her king burst sooner than she wanted him to. Feeling his insides were building up more and more, he then tighten his eyes harder as he grabbed a fist of her black hair with his right hand. This made Abigail get even faster than she now felt the tip of his cock all the way behind her throat.

“FFFFUCCKKKK!!!! yea, yea, yea, don’t stop babe, don’ stop,” he said medium loud tone, as he was breathing in and out feeling her moaning vibrations around his cock.

Abigail went faster until in a few seconds his wet and tasty white milk burst inside of her, making her bob her head slowly. Consuming every bit of his heavenly milk inside of her mouth. Abigail’s mouth was now filled with Reggie’s semen as she teasingly opened her mouth to show his man how much she has inside. This only made Reggie get harder while his beautiful angel was being a joker and yet naughty at the same. She then swallowed everything whole as he gave her another deep kiss, tasting a few of his own fluids between his lips. 

“Now, you sit back and let me take care of my queen now yea?” he said as he gave another peck on her lips, which Abigail giggled, knowing it was her turn to be his toy now.

He then looked around the room once more to see if anyone was around, but in relief, there was no soul to be seen. The movie then continued playing in the background, while Abigail pulled her panties down as she felt the material down against her ankles. Making herself sit more comfortable against the seat, Reggie then lifted a bit of her black skirt. Abigail desperately wanted Reggie’s wet tongue to lick her out, knowing how much she can’t resist right now. Reggie caressed her right cheek as they smiled at each other.

“You’re my good girl aren’t you, my little Abi?” He said as he caressed his thumb gently against her cheek.

“Yes, my love, I am your only good girl in this world and you are mine to claim and have. I love you, Reggie Kray,” she said, kissing his hand and giving a side smile towards him.

“Well, let me take care of you now. Would you like that, my sweet Angel?” He said teasing as he reached further between her legs, biting her lips together to resist a smile and a chuckle.

Abigail simply nodded her head, and Reggie now reached where he wanted to be. He started slow once he inserted two fingers inside her lovely wet canal, making Abigail moan out quietly. Reggie massaged her right tit with his free hand while thrusting into her pussy ever so lovingly.

“Hmmm… Reggie please… don’t stop just like that make me feel like a dirty whore you want me to be,” she said rearing her head back, feeling his tongue licking around her sensitive clit.

Reggie licked the place up as he thrust and lick in a wonderful rhythm while Abigail closed her eyes, seeing some black spots around. She felt so much like she was in heaven loving how Reggie would treat her to her sinful desires that had grown to love. Anytime or anywhere, she and Reggie would always try to have time for each other, and no matter where they make love to each other. What Abigail cared about the most wanted to be close to him and have his warm body be against hers. Felt at home, safe in his arms, happy, and overall, a life that she expected to have with a man like Reggie. 

Abigail felt so many tingles through her body as Reggie worked on his speed as his tongues twirled and nibbled around her clit. She knew she was this close to reaching her climax when Reggie thrust his fingers as he looked up at her beautiful face.

“Who do you belong to, hmm? Tell me who this little cunt and this slut belong to?” He said as he placed a gentle hand around her white neck as he thrust his three fingers in and out of her, making her curl her toes together.

“Ohhh fuck Reggie… I belong to you… ohhhh… I’m your only slut… for you to fuck me… and, oh god I’m about to come,” she said couldn help but love how her pussy was building itself up to her and burst out her juices. 

Reggie then tightens his hand around her neck, making fingers thrust deeper inside of wet walls until she can’t resist the temptation. Abigail then came around his fingers, feeling her face flush red riding her organs around his large fingers. They both breath heavily for a moment once Reggie takes his fingers out of her now undone pussy. He licks her juices off with his tongue that sting a bit of a sweet hint that he only knew. Abigail giggled at seeing Reggie do such a naughty thing that he then placed his fingers in her mouth to lick off the rest of her juices. She erotically licked and suck his fingers while giving those devilish eyes in his direction. This made Reggie feel hard between his legs, once again loving her nice little tongue playing around his fingers. 

The finale of the movie then came to an ending as the projector and the theater then lit up a bit, realizing that the film was over. Abigail quickly put her panties on again while Reggie buckled his belt around.

“That a Wrap, as they say in the movie industry,” Abigail said jokingly, making Reggie let out a small chuckle finally zipping his trousers.

“Don’t be such a joker love, come on, let’s get out here. Don’t you think this isn’t the last scene of our movie not yet? Because there is a continuation after this little misbehaved young lady has been very, very mischievous. Because she doesn’t realize she has a little surprise that her Prince Charming wants to give to her. What do you say, my darling? Are you ready for the big finale of this story of ours?” Reggie said, cupping her face with his hands and giving her another sweet, small kiss.

“I would love to know very much about my lovely king,” Abigail said as they made their way out of the theater excitedly, looking forward to seeing where this would go to.

💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹💗🎞️🌹

[skulduggery-pleasant-bp9]

Part 1 – The Death Bringer is…

WARNING!: Mention of death, mention of suicide, mention of self harm, cursing, use of bad words AND MORE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!!

Read THIS to understand why the reader has a name !

There he was again. Same location, same person…same memory. He stood in front of a black figure. They were both facing each other. The person dressed in black lifted their hand and moved their index finger, motioning him to follow them. He nodded and they took together a walk.

“Where did you go ?”, he asked the black figure.

They stayed silent.

“Please tell me this time where you went. I miss you.”

The black figure stopped and turned to him. They moved their hands and fingers. Sign language. He taught them that.

‘I am closer than you think.’, they signed.

He looked down at the ground.

“I want to see you again. I have a very bad feeling since a week.”, he said, looking back up at them.

‘Explain.’

“Valkyrie joined the Necromancers. She is very good in it and learns fast. Solomon Wreath teaches her, but he doesn’t want to open the Passage with her. He only wants to help and make it up with Skulduggery. Last time he didn’t help and Skulduggery suffered the consequences.”

The person nodded at that. Skulduggery lost his family because of it and that messed up his and Wreath’s friendship. Skulduggery asked of Solomon to help him and keep his family safe, but he said he couldn’t and they argued and then parted ways. Not long later the family died and so did Skulduggery. Solomon felt terrible after that, but never knew how to make up for it.

“The other Necromancers see her as the future Death Bringer.”, he informed.

The in black dressed person snapped their head up at that.

‘Does she know ?’

“About the Death Bringer ? Yes. About what it does and the Passage ? No.”

‘You think she will do it ?’

“No. Never. But she said that Cleric Craven acts out a lot. I think he is up to something bad. I think I need your help this time. I think he will have a Death Bringer, but far more dangerous.”

The person stared, then signed again.

‘I will keep an eye out.’

“Skulduggery said he saw you after Tesseract…is that true ?”

They nodded and he nodded as a reply.

“You gave him quite the scare.”, he said as they continued to walk.

‘I also hurt him, just to make him stop attacking me.’

“I heard you threatened him too, with Valkyrie’s life.”

‘I was only bluffing.’

“He hit you and you poofed away.”, he continued smirking.

‘I didn’t come to fight him. I came to save him from Tesseract. The Bastard would have killed him otherwise.’, they signed.

“You shouldn’t have threatened him though.”

‘I thought he would back off if I threatened his friend’s life.’

“That just makes him feel being pressed against a wall with no exit. He just attacks then. You should have known better.” , he scolded.

They hung their shoulders.

“Come on ! Wake up !”, Ghastly’s voice appeared.

He winced and looked at his partner.

“I have to go. See you soon.”

The black figure waved him a Goodbye and then he woke up. He opened his eyes in Bespoke’s shop.

“Good morning. What time is it Ghastly ?”

“It is 1PM. How long did you not sleep, Erskin ?”, Ghastly answered.

Erskin sat up on the couch he slept on.

“Almost a week. Sorry, there was so much stuff I had to do, that I had no time to sleep.”

Ghastly sighed.

“I think I need to tell Meritorius to give you a break.”

“Hell no ! Who would do all my work ? I’m the best person for my job !”, Erskin protested.

“All you do is spy and report.”, Ghastly deadpanned.

“Wrong. I spy, observe, report, await further orders, execute orders and then write the report, which is a fucking book all the time, mind you. All the things they did and all the details that are needed in ONE report of mine take me 3 DAYS to finish !”, Erskin puffed out annoyed.

“Then ask them to limit the reports more.”

“That would be a dumb idea. I made a short report once and it missed a lot of important stuff. It already IS limited to the only important shit, Ghastly.”

The tailor sighed in disappointment.

“At least I am free now. It is something, Ghastly.”, Erskin said with a smile.

“I suppose…”

Erskin elbowed Ghastly playfully, making the tailor smile.

“Asshole.”, Erskin insulted playfully.

Ghastly laughed. Then suddenly the shop’s doors were opened and in came Valkyrie and Skulduggery. Erskin gave them a warm smile and got up from the couch.

“Hello you two.”, he greeted them.

“What do I have to fix, Skul ?”, the tailor sighed.

“Valkyrie has a gash in her jacket. I’m fine.”, Skulduggery answered.

Erskin crooked his head to his right.

“Did Dragonclaw tell you anything ?”, he asked them.

“No. Just mentioned about opening a Passage.”, Val answered grimly.

She gave Ghastly her jacket and he took it, inspecting the damage. Erskin froze up, eyes wide in horror. The three of them noticed.

“Do you know anything about it, Erskin ?”, Skulduggery asked curiously.

Stiffly, Erskin nodded.

“You can NOT allow them to EVER open it.”, he told them.

“Why ?”, Valkyrie asked.

Erskin sighed and looked at Valkyrie in guilt.

“The Passage is an ancient Necromancy event that needs to be set in motion by the Death Bringer in order to stop death itself.”, Erskin explained carefully.

“That sounds nice actually. Why do I not know of it ?”, Val asked confused.

He sighed.

“Only those in the highest places of power in the Necromancer order were allowed to know. Before they threw me out, I was in that order. Lord Vile was in there too, first place of the most powerful Necromancers. We both knew about it.”

“Why were only the highest in power allowed to know ?”

“Because it may sound nice, but it isn’t at all. You see…in order for the Passage to occur, someone has to kill half of the world’s population. As you might know, Valkyrie, Necromancers believe that life and death flow into one another in a stream. The Death Bringer is needed to break that stream.”

She stared at Erskin.

“And they expected me to do THAT ?”, she asked in shock.

“Yes. Solomon doesn’t want that with you though. He just wanted to help you.”

Skulduggery clenched his fists.

“Was Lord Vile…?”, she asked softly.

Erskin nodded.

“They saw him as the Death Bringer. But he left before they could pester him about it. Then they came crawling back to me, but I refused. I had other things to worry about.”

“Could it be that he came back from the Dead to kill me ?”

“I doubt it. You would never do that. But maybe there is something else going on that made him come back.”, Erskin told her.

“Like what ?”, Skulduggery asked darkly.

“Well…Val, you said Craven was an asshole and he acts weird a lot, right ?”, Erskin asked.

She nodded. Erskin looked back at Skulduggery.

“What if Craven is up to something even worse ? Maybe Vile came back to stop him ? We don’t have any motive as to why he actually came back. Do you really think he would waste his time on Valkyrie, Skul ? She won’t be his issue. Something else is going on in that Temple.”

“We should tell Wreath.”, Valkyrie said.

“Solomon is not very liked. He will be way too obvious. I already sent someone on Craven’s tail. Let us hope they will find out what the hell he is doing.”, Erskin told them.

“So what will we do in the meantime ?”, Ghastly asked.

“You fix that poor jacket, I get a bit more sleep and Skul and Val can play a good game of UNO ?”, Erskin suggested.

“Erskin…”, Ghastly warned.

Erskin lifted his hands in the air and made an innocent face.

“I’m sorry ‘DAD’. I won’t say it again.”, Erskin mocked.

Ghastly gave him a glare.

“What ? You behave like a Father would and you scold me like a child. Maybe finally knock up with Tanith and get a fucking kid of your own.”

Ghastly went red in his face and threw a scissor at Erskin. He caught it and gave the tailor a shit eating grin.

“Try harder, Pussy cat~”, Erskin mocked.

“You are the worst, Erskin. Tanith would NEVER like someone that looks like me.”

“I beg to differ, my dear little tailor friend. As much as I can remember Tanith was head over heels for you when the Remnants were having a return party. And when the Grotesque almost would have made you turn to stone, she was worried sick for you. Oh ! And that one time where I saw her intently watch you suck a lollipop that I gave you. Oh she wished that would have been her that you licked and sucked on !”

Valkyrie spat her water out at that and then coughed. Erskin was howling in laughter, Skulduggery was dead silent and Ghastly blushed a deep shade of red, covering his mouth.

“Loosen up you two ! It is the twentieth century ! No one needs a fucking marriage anymore before some good old love making, nor to have a child ! You can have all that while you are a couple now and in the near future can still decide if you want to marry. My opinion to this is that it was about time it was made like this. Otherwise there might have been a lot of divorces after when one of them isn’t good in Sex.”

Ghastly stared at Erskin and Skulduggery just coughed. Erskin and Valkyrie guaffed at that. It was so true.

“Sex isn’t everything in love…”, Skulduggery then said.

“Of course not, but it is important. It is healthy and it keeps you healthy. Just don’t do it every day. That would be too much.”

“How would you know ?”, Ghastly asked him.

Erskin blushed slightly and chuckled.

“I had a fling way before the war. We didn’t give two shits about traditions. Their parents didn’t know and I didn’t have any, so we messed around whenever we could. Sad they were killed in the war.”

Ghastly and Skulduggery stared at him with open jaws. Skulduggery’s was so wide open that it looked like it was about to fall off.

“You dog, Erskin.”, Ghastly said playfully.

Erskin laughed.

“We did agree on it, just to make sure that if we still love each other after a while, we might marry. We wanted to tell their parents one day that we wish to marry, but then the war happened and the marriage never happened.”, Erskin ended saddened slightly.

He still had a smile on his face, but it was smaller, sadder. He gave a weak chuckle.

“I would give anything to see them again, just to say sorry. I was too late to help.”

Ghastly frowned and went over to Erskin, patting his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”, he said softly.

“I’m sorry for yours too. Your Ma was a great person.”, Erskin replied.

Ghastly gave a weak smile and then left the room, to fix Valkyrie’s jacket.

“What was their name ?”

Erskin looked at her with mischief.

“I won’t tell you. Not now. Maybe when you are older and I truly wish to die.”

She nodded.

“I will hold you onto that promise.”, she said and then sat on the couch.

“How was your last mission from Eachan, Erskin ?”

“Stressful and a lot of work. Messy too… I had to go without sleep for a whole week. Ghastly is not happy about it…”

“Maybe you need an assistant ?”

“No, thank you. The last few I had always fucked up and died. I gave up trying.”

“Then maybe one of the others ?”

“Well…I was considering annoying Dexter Vex, but I doubt he would want to help me with everything. Then I thought maybe Saracen would like to help, but with all the shit that is happening most of the time, he would be more in danger than me, considering his abilities… Anton has the Hotel Midnight to take care of, Ghastly has his tailor shop to take care of, you and Val solve cases all the time, Ravel can get easily into a random panic attack since the…you know, hopeless and Larrikin are dead, Deuce works in the sanctuary now, Fletcher is annoying, China is not to trust…No, I don’t have anyone.”, Erskin said grimly now.

He sat down on the floor like a child and was in deep thoughts.

“How come you all have new friends, you all can count on, and I don’t have any, that I can trust ?”, he mumbled out.

Now Valkyrie and Skulduggery felt bad. Erskin always had a hard time making new friends, so he rather stuck to the ones he had now for a few decades.

“I didn’t know that Erskine had random panic attacks. How come he got them ?”, Valkyrie asked softly.

“Well…when the war happened, they captured Erskine one day and tortured him. The Children of the Spider freed him and Torment was trying to brainwash him to get him on their side. They wanted to make him believe that he was a part of the Spider family now and that we deeply betrayed him, because we didn’t save him. He was almost there, almost believed all their lies, but then Ghastly, Rue, Vex and me broke into their hideout and got out Erskine. He did yell for the others to save him, but we dragged him back. Saracen found out that they mixed something into his drinks and food, to make his mind crumble, so I made an antidote with Anton and we force-fed him for over a week with it. Then he saw reason again and since then…he got randomly panic attacks.”

“Sounds like an aftereffect.”, Valkyrie said.

“It is not.”, Ghastly mixed himself in.

They all looked at him.

“Erskine, if we all can still remember correctly, was the only one who didn’t want that we parted from one another after the war. That we stayed the Dead Men. After he was captured, tortured, almost brainwashed to kill us and then healed from it, he got a lot of anxieties. Separation anxiety, he hates too loud and fast noises, he is scared of the dark, he has a lot of nightmares and he never eats the food nor drinks anything that any of us didn’t make. He only took what WE made and gave him. He was afraid of being poisoned again. He was afraid of losing us again, of being taken again. Sure he kicked Torment in the ass when he saw him again, but only because we were around. He did try to come for him again.”, Ghastly explained.

“But Erskine is with other people now.”, Erskin said.

“Erskin, he went to Sensitives and other doctors to get mental help, that didn’t help much. I think it even got worse. Erskine acts from time to time like a child. I think it damaged him further.”

“WAIT ! Hold up ! Erskine AGE REGRESSES ?! Oh shit…”

“It is rare, but he does from time to time. Kenspeckle said it is a mental defense mechanism, against the trauma he suffered through.”

“Fucking hell… I should have taken him in then. But he didn’t say anything ! I asked if he wanted to move in with me and he said he will think about it, but he never said anything ! God…this man will be my death one day ! I could have helped !”, Erskin yelled.

“He probably thought he would be just a burden.”, Skulduggery said.

“Oh, I will show him a burden…”, Erskin spat and pulled out his phone.

He dialed Erskine’s number, called and put him on speaker. It rang two times and then he picked up.

“Hello Erskin !”, Erskine greeted.

“Erskine Ravel…”, Erskin growled lowly.

“Oh oh…”, the other whimpered on the phone.

“Pack your shit and get some Teleporters to your house. You. Move. In. With. Me. Understood ?”

The other line gulped and Erskine breathed heavily.

“Y-yes… Sure.”

“Good. I’ll see you in 3 hours at my house. You remember my address ?”, Erskin said happily.

“Y-yeah.”

“Ravel, I’m not going to kill you. I worry about you. Now stop being scared. I would NEVER hurt you.”

“But I’m fine ?”

“I heard from Ghastly something else. I will make myself an image of it. Now get your ass over to my house.”

“O-okay.”

With that they hung up and Erskin grumbled frustrated.

“Stupid idiot, can’t ever listen, never thinks before acting, dumbass, stupid, stupid, stupid….”

Valkyrie decided to change the topic.

“Did you know that Craven took Melancholia under his wing ?”, she asked Erskin.

He stopped.

“No, why ?”

“Well…she is barely around anymore. When she is, she looks…far away.”

“This doesn’t sound good…”, Ghastly mumbled.

“For once I agree with you Ghastly.”, Erskin muttered.

Ghastly gave him a glare. That wasn’t the first time Erskin agreed with Ghastly on something. Such an ass…

“Keep an eye on her Valkyrie, yeah ? I have a nagging feeling that there is something BAD gonna happen…”

She nodded.

-A few days later-

They sat together in the house that once belonged to Gordon. Erskine was there, Erskin, Skulduggery and Ghastly too. Valkyrie called them all here.

“So, why are we all here ?”, Erskin asked, petting Erskine’s head.

Erskine had a huge panic attack in the car, thinking he was in trouble.

“Melancholia is apparently the Death Bringer.”, Valkyrie said.

Erskin froze and stared at her with wide eyes. Ghastly went stiff and Skulduggery faked a deep inhale. Erskine just sat there, with widened eyes.

“But she was way weaker than you and she never improved.”, Erskin said, recalling what Valkyrie told him.

“I know. That is what I find so strange ! She overpowered me today too ! She was hell-bent to KILL me !”

“This…doesn’t sound right…”, Erskin mumbled in deep concern.

“Can you make any rhymes out of this one ?”, Ghastly asked.

“A few, but they are all impossible… Lord Vile destroyed all the books that existed about anything of it before he left.”

“From where would you know that ?”, Skulduggery asked.

“Solomon told me, when they sent him to convince me to come back and become the Death Bringer.”

Skulduggery looked away at the mention of Wreath.

“You really need to work out your issues, Skul. Solomon doesn’t want to force Valkyrie into anything. She needed Necromancy in order to get you back from the Faceless Ones and she only continues to have it as an emergency backup. Wreath knows that. He doesn’t mind. Until now it helped you both immensely, don’t you think ? Stop being a stuck up Bitch about past events. It happened, you can’t change that, move the fuck on.”, Erskin said bluntly.

Ghastly sucked in a deep breath and stared at Skulduggery with caution, Erskine sat straighter and stared at Skulduggery with wide eyes and Valkyrie just looked at her friend and waited for his reaction.

“I’m not a stuck up Bitch, Erskin. You don’t KNOW what he did.”, Skulduggery said darkly.

“Skulduggery Pleasant, I am a Necromancer, I was with Solomon and Lord Vile in the same Temple, I talked to Wreath a lot, I saw a lot of him in war and outside of it too so don’t you dare to claim that I know nothing.”, Erskin venomously spat back.

There was a very tense silence.

“I know that you both were friends, I know that you asked for his help to keep your Son and wife safe, I know that he refused and that it ended up in them dying and you later on too, I know that Wreath felt since that day horrible, I know that he considered suicide since these days, I know that you are angry at him, I know that he knows that you hate him, I know that he helped Serpine to hide from you and that he pretended like you never were friends, I know why he did it, but the better question is…did you know any of it ?”, Erskin asked darkly.

With everything that Erskin listed off that he knew Skulduggery went more and more visibly stiff.

“I know that at least the half of what I just counted off, you had no fucking clue about. He considered many times to just end his own life, he still does.

What would it take for a height to make sure that when you jump off, you will break your bones and die ?

How many stab wounds does it take you to die ?

Where should you stab yourself for a long and painful death ?

How to recreate Serpine’s red hand to torture yourself with it to death ?

How do you get your once – has – been – friend to kill you ?

How can you hurt yourself without letting anyone see it ?”

Valkyrie’s and Ghastly’s eyes widened at that in horror. Erskine looked away, refusing to listen to all of it and Skulduggery didn’t move a bone.

“You always just thought about yourself. It was always just you, you and you. You never stopped and started to think about how others felt. Wreath KNEW he made terrible decisions and mistakes, but do you really think he can change that now ? He is trying this whole time to make up for them to YOU and to YOU only. He destroys everything that he built himself up over all these years, including himself, just to make his mistakes up to YOU. When have YOU ever done that, huh ?”

Dead silence. Erskin turned away.

“Maybe Vile was right about you all along. YOU never CARED to consider other people’s pain too. You still don’t. All you care about is hate, rage and anger.”, Erskin said bitterly.

Skulduggery’s head snapped over to Erskin, his empty eye sockets stared right at Erskin’s eyes.

“He TALKED to you ?”, he asked.

“Of course he did. He didn’t have much good to say about you. He said that you just don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything. You just care about your revenge and to take out your rage on other people. Vile was a bit more calculated than that. You should get some help from him, maybe you will learn to care about others too then.”, Erskin hissed and then left the house all together.

He left all four of them stunned and shocked.

“He KNEW Vile…”, Valkyrie whispered.

“He only chatted with him. No need to freak out.”, Erskine mixed himself in.

“Do you think he worked with him ?”, Ghastly asked Skulduggery.

He hesitated.

“I…I don’t know. He just talked with him. Who knows if he did.”, he then answered.

“Could he be Lord Vile ?”, Valkyrie asked.

The three men turned to her and stared.

“No. He couldn’t be.”, Skulduggery stated.

“Yeah he is not Vile.”, Ghastly agreed.

“Never Valkyrie.”, Erskine also answered.

“How would you all know ?”, she asked them.

“We saw him many times on the battlefield, fighting against Vile and the others. We saw him and Vile separated from each other on the field. If he would be one and the same person, then one of them would have been missing.”, Ghastly answered.

“And what if he duplicated himself ?”, she asked.

“He can’t duplicate himself, Valkyrie.”, Skulduggery said.

“He can. Don’t you remember ? Against Serpine ? He made a duplicate of himself ! The scepter was way out of your reach to just grab it and kill him, but suddenly it was near you. Erskin didn’t move, but the scepter did and I SAW someone bring it closer to you ! None of us can duplicate, leaves only Erskin.”

Erskine’s eyes widened at that.

“Oh god…she’s right. It could be him…”

“That is nonsense. Erskin is NOT Lord Vile. Who knows when he learned that technique. He could have learned it AFTER the war.”, Skulduggery protested.

There they all had to agree. It could have been after the war. They dropped the whole subject with that and left. Erskine went back to Erskin’s house, Ghastly to his tailor shop and Skulduggery went with Valkyrie on another small case.

-With Erskine-

When he was home, he saw Erskin sleep on the couch. He went to his own room and also laid down. He had too much in his head to just stay awake.

What he didn’t know was that Erskin had a little meeting.

-With Erskin-

They were in a cave this time.

“I have very bad news.”, Erskin said.

The person in black turned around and signed again.

‘What is it ?’

“I think Craven did something to a Necromancer girl, called Melancholia St. Clair. Valkyrie has reported that Craven took her under his wing, even though she was a weak, lost cause for a while now. Suddenly she started to change, not just in her abilities and strength, but also with her personality. Valkyrie is certain that there is something wrong.”

They crooked their head.

‘That does sound concerning.’, they signed.

“Also be careful, Skulduggery is onto you. He is definitely NOT happy that you are around. I also got word from Deuce, he wants us to sit this one out and let you do the job in killing whoever you need to.”

‘I can’t do that. I am not complete. I am just a fragment of my soul.’

“I figured that much. Otherwise you would have already done something drastic to scare the Necromancers off.”

They nodded.

“Now what do you need of me ? How can I help ?”

‘Just continue to observe for now and report to me whenever you can. I will see to the rest. We have a small lead, but not enough for me to interfere yet. Find out if Melancholia has been tempered with, with evidence, and then talk to me.’

“I will try my best. Valkyrie is still a little spy for now. We’ll see how much she can figure out.”

‘Don’t let her get hurt. Skulduggery is very protective of her.’

“Don’t tell that a person that already knows that. Tell that yourself so you won’t piss him off.”

With that Erskin left again and was awake. He made dinner ready and then got Ravel to wake up and eat too.

-Five days later-

“VALKYRIE HAS BEEN ATTACKED AND ALMOST KILLED !”, Erskine yelled at the black figure.

They snapped around and quickly signed.

‘By who ?!’

“MELANCHOLIA ! She just appeared out of nowhere and attacked her ! I have no idea if she will survive this !”

‘Is Skulduggery with her ?!’

“No. He is trying to arrest Melancholia.”

‘Wake up and we meet at Kenspeckle’s !’

Erskin nodded and then woke up. He quickly used his Necromancy to teleport to Valkyrie’s side. Then they appeared too and rushed to her side.

“The wounds are badly infected… I can heal her, if I don’t she might die.”, they whispered.

“Do it. Just do it.”

They nodded and then got to work.

Masterlist HERE !