#jack nelson imagine

[zablife]

A Visit From Jack

Jack Nelson x OC (Eva Nelson)

A/N: Visits from the dead requested by @evita-shelby. OC belongs to her. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Warnings: drinking, supernatural phenomenon, divergence from canon Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

“Here we are again," Jack remarked, wandering about the drawing room of Arrow House to inspect the gaudy paintings and overstuffed furniture with obvious displeasure.

Eva turned away from the bar slowly, jaw clenched despite the dark look of exhaustion in her eyes. “I didn’t ask you to come,” she reminded him as she took a sip of her drink.

Clicking his tongue in rebuke, Jack shook his head at her. “You should never have started drinking again, Evie. Losin’ your looks.” The insult fell flat as she observed the melancholy in his voice, evidence of the pain he still carried.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” she stated, fingers unconsciously ghosting over the heart locket he’d gifted her years ago.

A mirthless chuckle echoed over her shoulder, his only attempt at denial. “Don't remember, doll?"

"You won't let me forget," she bit back, swallowing harshly.

"Ten years," he reminisced, gliding his index finger along her spine.

Eva shivered, feeling the chill rush throughout her body. "And I was loyal to you every day," she recounted, cutting her eyes at him sharply.

"All but one," Jack corrected. "The day Michael shot..."

"Do we have to relive it every time you visit?" Eva interrupted impatiently, refilling her glass. "Please, I’m tired of this, Jack."

She wavered momentarily, feeling the force of his heartbeat rocking her where she stood, a potent reminder of the connection they'd once shared. As she attempted to raise the bottle of tequila, an icy hand stopped her.

"Thought I told you to stop,” Jack warned in a low growl. "You're killing yourself," he whispered more tenderly into her ear.

With a toss of her shoulder Eva attempted to banish his touch. "You don't know a damn thing!"

"I know this is no way to go," he countered.

Eva released the bottle and suddenly felt the hand around her relinquish it's hold. Searching the room for her beloved, she whispered, "I’m sorry for what happened...I hoped he'd be more cautious with his lies and his truths."

"Truth from the devil of Small Heath?" Jack retorted.

"You'll always blame me, but he'd already laid his curses," she tried to justify. "He knew..."

"Knew what?" Jack asked, though he was certain of the answer.

"That no one was listening," she gulped.

"A godless man who took matters into his own hands. You should've known he would let his cousin kill me before doing business with me," Jack nodded in understanding but not acceptance, the vision of him fading from sight as he'd done on so many occasions before.

"No, don't go!" Eva shouted into the empty room, slumping against the wall for support. It was the same every year on their anniversary, to be visited by the ghost of her husband. The torture of it, driving her to ruin. And though Tommy Shelby had offered her solace in his exquisite mansion and his waiting arms, she would never forgive herself for Jack's murder.

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

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@mischievouslittlecreature

@mysatnin

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Living with Jack Nelson

Warnings: Fluff, angst, references to violence, infidelity, and period-typical sexism.

Domestic Jack Headcanons

If you were only his lover, he would buy a house to put you in. You’re his mistress, but he’ll treat you well enough. You won’t get to choose much about how the exterior looks or where you’ll live. It’s an open secret that he cheats on his wife regularly, but he’s not such a monster that he’ll put you out for all to see. Your home will be out of Boston, somewhere quiet. Still living in luxury, but it’s a gilded cage. Jack will drop in with a sly smile and a list of things he wants to do to you. If you are his wife, expect a far larger home with a sprawling floorplan. Lots of room to put many, many Irish American babies in there. The only difference between you and a mistress is going to be that the house is bigger and it’s his home too. Jack will truly live in the home he’s built with his wife. With a mistress, that home is just a fancy hotel.

Jack is the sort of guy who needs a genuine “man cave.” A dark room with a fireplace and a radio to update him on the news of the day and if the bets he’s placed on his favorite boxer panned out. It’s quite the juxtaposition, this well-dressed man in a fine house… swearing loudly at a radio over the losing team in a baseball game. You learn by the sounds that slip through the door if it’s a good idea to visit him. When it’s quiet, you slip in with a bottle of whiskey and his favorite shade of lipstick on your lips. He pats his leg, signaling for you to sit on his lap. This is his idea of the perfect evening.

Has absolutely thrown open the doors to your home and shouted: "Honey! I'm home!"

Jack is a big extrovert; he loves having people over to charm. Expect a lot of dinner parties where its mostly people talking over each other as they sip almost-legal beverages. This is Jack at his best. He gets to entertain, chat up his people, and show off his hard-won wealth. All while networking and solidifying connections that’ll put his kids through college. Oh, and he has an excuse to show you off, too. He buys you so much jewelry, so many dresses, it would be wrong not to give you a reason to put them on. Although, his favorite part is usually taking it all off of you. 

Relationship Headcanons

Jack Nelson is a man of his times, meaning: He is very sexist. More so than Luca, Jack is going to expect you to stay home and take care of the kids. You should be more than entertained by all the parties you two host and all the luxury his hard work has given you. He has no interest in being with his kids as babies. Chances are, Jack will be distant with his kids well into their adolescence. Raising them, in his opinion, is your job. Jack may grow to regret that as the years roll by and his children only go to you with their woes and their victories. Some men don’t realize they’ve missed out on fatherhood until their children start families of their own.

When you have fights, Jack tends to buy you things and apologize with some grand gesture. He came from extreme poverty, so to him, giving you things is the best way to show affection. It doesn’t occur to him that he should avoid doing the thing that upset you ever again or talk to you about how you feel. Jack isn’t much of a feeler. He’s a survivor, a conqueror, a provider. Tears are for poets, women, and children. So, if he hurts your feelings, he’ll buy you a diamond necklace and expect the conflict to be resolved. You can’t be passive aggressive with him, he’ll just shrug his shoulders and say, “Women.” If you can grab him by the collar and tell him exactly what you need, progress can be made, slowly.

In order for a marriage to Jack Nelson to “work,” you must be someone who expects and accepts that he cannot be monogamous. There is not a woman alive that Jack is not prepared to charm and bed within two hours of meeting. If you still want to be with him after all that, you must be someone unbothered by an open relationship. Which suits Jack just fine, until you want to play the same games as him. Jack is one who can dish it but he can’t take it. If you were to flirt with someone, be prepared to watch that man lose teeth. Nobody fucks Jack Nelson’s wife but him. Not even Thomas Shelby. 

He loves you so much it scares him sometimes. Jack doesn’t hide how deeply he adores you. You’ve brought a man who despises commitment to bend the knee. You have power over him that no gangster, politician, or Shelby man could ever hold. It’s not enough to keep him faithful in the sexual sense, but you’re the only woman he’s ever loved. Jack will kill for you, at your request or in his own personal sense of justice. Jack has attacked men for bumping into you and not apologizing. Next to his kids, you are the main cause of him going completely feral and beating someone like he used to back in his youth. 

He loves you, as disorderly and emotionally constipated as he is.  

[evita-shelby]

National Anthem

Chapter 4

Cw: mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Mentions of death from childbirth and infant death

Slight Boardwalk Empire crossover

Taglist: @zablife @call-sign-shark @thegreatdragonfruta

Love is not as easy for her as one would think.

The witch likes taking things slowly, so slowly her lovers lose interest and leave.

Or have entire secret relationships with the cousin who you live with in Mexico City and most people assumed you’d marry because consanguinity isn’t still in the past especially in aristocratic families like theirs.

Jack is an attentive husband and keeps her in luxury and lets her revel in the part of her that craves blood and violence from time to time.

Eva is very fond of him and cares a great deal for him and likes the person he is in private, but she just isn’t sure if that is love or love love.

English only has one word for love. Spanish has two, querer and amar. One is stronger than the other and she can confidently say she likes him a lot(querer), the witch cannot have that same feeling to say love as in amar.

The answer to her conundrum comes as they ready the house for their first dinner with the neighbors.

There is a sweet and even tender side to him no one save Gina gets to see here. Here where they live rather richly and yet so simply that she couldn’t have it any other way.

Here where they pretend they are just another suburban couple expecting their first children in an idyllic neighborhood.

Here where they are hosting the couple next door and their son after Jack sprayed him with the gardening hose for looking at Eva’s ass ---or so he said.

Dinner had gone well.

Eva had hit it off with Helen, spoken some of her past and lied when little Bobby asked if had ever killed anyone in Mexico.

Now as they cleaned up ---despite his protests saying Alice, the maid, was hired for this--- the answer to her conundrum comes as he regales her with a childhood anecdote.

She would be lying if she wasn’t enjoying every second of this life in peace. Every second of being with him.

“I love you.” Eva says as the words come unbidden.

Had she taken longer, the twins would’ve been born.

“You’re only saying it to shut me up, darling.” He replies with that confident smile she’s come to adore.

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Eva playfully flicked some soap suds toward him making him laugh.

“Took you long enough, I am fucking charm itself.”

“You don’t have to kill him, Jack.” She says after his new lackey has the audacity to flirt with her while visiting his office in Wall Street.

Really several months pregnant and Owen Sleater keeps thinking about fucking her. Eva would be flattered if it hadn’t come to annoy her.

It had started out as something Eva paid no mind to until the man started be too helpful to her. Then he started touching her, innocently at first and then lingering to the point it would be called a caress.

Jack had noticed it with displeasure, thinking about imaginative ways to rid himself of the man especially after Eva told him about Sleater’s unwanted advances.

“What do you suggest, Evie? Ringing up the Ulster volunteers I keep an eye on and leave the fucker tied with a bow for them?” he is annoyed at having to show mercy to a man who’s blood he wants to bathe in.

“Jersey, to your fellow Irishmen in Atlantic City. The republican you outbid for me.” Eva keeps it vague to make him ask why such a specific person.

Nucky Thompson had a purpose and when that was fulfilled Jack would take his crumbling empire and build up his. Nucky looked like he was on the way to greatness, like he had found a wife and a family he yearned for and as if karma didn’t have him on her list.

Owen Sleater would ruin his marriage by doing what he tried to do with her. Only Margaret Shroeder would be vulnerable enough to be swayed by his charms.

No matter, Enoch Thompson deserved it. That and so much more.

“Tell me why, and I’ll see if I can arrange it.” Jack sat back on his chair as she grew comfortable on his lap.

“He’s gonna fuck his wife.”

And sure enough, Owen Sleater is handed back to John McGarrigle after the Nelsons arrange a little accident on his new bodyguard.

It’s the twenty-ninth of May when Joseph Patrick and John Fitzgerald are born.

The morning had been perfect, and had she not been who she was, she would have used the twin bed in the nursery that had been prepared beforehand to bring these two little angels into the world.

If her new friends and neighbors had known she never planned on making use of it, they would have found it as strange as her and Jack eschewing the use of separate twin beds as all modern couples do.

Eva has a fear of giving birth at home.

Her sister, Felicidad, had died because they lived to far away from town and the doctor could not come quickly when complications arose. The baby had died less than a month after as if sharing her dead mother’s name had cursed her to join her in death

And while Eva had served as a midwife in her time as a nurse, she preferred being where an obstetrician and a surgeon would be a door away and not several miles away. Just as a safety precaution.

Thankfully, there were no complications and by noon their twin boys were sleeping in a bassinet by her bed.

“I would’ve killed them all if they’d stop me from being there with you.” He admits smiling softly at his namesake.

Just a week ago he had killed a man for calling him a potato digging bastard and yet here he was holding the smaller of the twins with such love and gentleness you’d never know his hands were drenched in blood.

“I know.” In her moment of need, Jack had barreled into the hospital room and dared them to pry him off her side.

He had encouraged her, yelled at her when she felt like giving up and promised to never touch her again when she complained about their boys having heads as big as his.

By the time they’d been returned to the maternity ward both witch and gangster had completely forgotten the awfulness of the birth.

“Your eyes rolled to the back of your head during that last bit, doll. Mind telling me what it was about?” He doesn’t beat around the bush; he’s been married to her long enough to know when she has a vision.

Once she fainted dead away in his arms, and one other time she drove his old model-t into a ditch.

“What do you think about doing this seven more times?” the witch asked hoping he’d say that was too many.

“Who are we to argue with the big man upstairs?” he answered with a proud smirk.

[brummiereader]

@justrainandcoffee stunning, Flor 😍! As eerie as graveyards are, the ones you choose for this gorgeous moodboard look quite beautiful among all the leaves. But the text definitely changes the tone of this visit to see Jack's mum 😬. Can't believe this is the last one 😭! Thank you for sharing all your creations with us ❤️.

Graveyard

The note they left said they were going to visit his mother. It was a lovely autumnal morning so no one asked a thing about it. And indeed they went to visit his mother only that it wasn't the kind of visit others thought. The mausoleum was open and Mrs. Nelson, his mother, was waiting for them.

For Juli @evita-shelby hope you like it!!🧡

This is the last one! 🥺 I hope you enjoyed the moodboards I did for you. I did them with love 🧡🍁.

[writeroutoftime]

marvel

-matt murdock-

Heartbeat - on a lazy day together, you ask for a small peak until Matt’s world

-foggy nelson-

You’re Heart in Exchange for Mine - Foggy has been led to believe it’s the material goods that keep a relationship alive, but you strive to prove to him that all you want is to love him and be loved in return

Feelings Confessed - You like Foggy, Foggy likes you, but neither of you know of the other’s feelings. What could happen when Foggy walks you home from Josie’s one night?

-peter parker-

Not the Same Girl - Before the Blip, Peter would babysit you, but not that he’s back and you’ve grown up, what feelings will come to play? 

Little Fall of Rain - Based on ‘A Little Fall of Rain’ from Les Mis

You're Stunning - When Peter takes your picture unexpectedly, he learns how you feel about yourself and tries to change your mind

Speak Now - When Peter is getting married, you just want to go and make sure he’s happy. but what happens when the officiant asks a very pertinent question?

-jack thompson- 

By Your Side -   “You wanna go save the world with me?”

Undercover Feelings -  You and Jack don’t like each other in the slightest. But when an undercover mission throws the two of you together, what will become of your relationship? (aka - undercover enemies to lovers)  

We’re Okay - When out on the field, you run into a burning building to save a young child, and all Jack can do is pray you’ll be safe

-steve rogers- 

Bail You Out - A midnight call wakes you up, asking you to pick Steve and Bucky up in a less than ideal location 

True Gentleman - After a date with Steve, he wants to make sure that you get home safe, but you reassure him that you’ll be alright

-bucky barnes-

A Secret Language - flower shop au - when Bucky stumbles across your little flower shop, you’re enamored. too bad he keeps coming in to buy flowers for his mystery women (using the prompts “you aren’t over her, are you?/not even close”)

-tony stark- 

The Scoops Troop - It’s Halloween and you want to do a group costume, but Tony isn’t onboard with the idea 

Only Wanna Be With You - It’s yours and Tony’s anniversary but why is he acting so odd?

-druig-

Stop the Tears - Druig finds you crying and can only focus on the pull he feels towards you and taking your tears away

-jack thompson- 

13 Days of Halloween - Day Seven - “I picked it out especially with you in mind. You’re hurting my feelings.” 

-steve rogers-

“you owe me a kiss”

-bucky barnes-

Lost in Love and Time (Ongoing) - Haunted Mansion AU

Prologue Part One || Prologue Part Two || Chapter One || Chapter Two || Chapter Three || Chapter Four

-peter parker- 

Fools Rush In (Ongoing) - When Peter finds himself claiming to the Avengers that he has a girlfriend, he turns to you for help even though the two of you are class rivals 

Chapter One || Chapter Two

-steve rogers- 

La La Land (Discontinued) - As a struggling actress in the big city, you aren’t sure how you are going to get your big break. Similarly, starving artist, Steve Rogers, doesn’t know how to move on after a deal gone wrong. What happens when you two meet and learn more about yourselves, love, and the power of dreams than you ever though possible? 

Chapter One

[call-sign-shark]

The Gentle Art of Terror

summary: Jack and Eva Nelson have an unpleasant encounter during a posh party. Her name? Tina Cacciatore, Luca Changretta's right hand. || Based on the "ask about your OC and mine to receive a one-shot + small moodboard". Also exploring Eva being scared is super cool. (@evita-shelby)

Words: 1.5k

“What are we doing here?” Eva asked, her sly and perfectly manicured hands tightly wrapped around the American’s muscular arm as they navigated in the dim light of the damp wine cellar. Warm but feeble lamps were hanging from the concrete ceiling, softly swinging from left and right at each gust of wind, casting their yellowish hue on the walls. The sumptuous witch’s voice was underlined with a palpable annoyance for she didn’t understand why they should waste their time in this shit hole while one of the most expensive parties ever held in Boston was taking place two stories above them. Jack Nelson‘s only reply was a little “shhh” before he walled himself in silence again, his green eyes surveyed his hostile surroundings with great attention. Even though the letter stipulated that their encounter would be peaceful, only aimed at discussing the terms of territory limits, Jack didn’t trust the man for his life of his. While merciless as an enraged bull and sly as a fox, he knew far too well that Luca Changretta, the most efficient soldier of the Spinetta’s family and the one rapidly climbing the Mafia’s highest ranks, wouldn’t shy away at the idea of slicing his throat at the slightest moment of inattention and Jack couldn’t have that. Even less when his mesmerizing wife, as powerful as him but embodying his only weakness, was with him at this moment.

“Jack.” She called him, her tone firmer as to remind him she wasn’t some kind of docile trophy wife but a Queen who could have almost everyone eating from her cursed hand. The sole power of her voice made him oblige — Nelson pinched his scarred lips in a thin line before replying.

“Remember when I told you Changretta wanted to talk? Well, here we are,” His gaze, usually hard and unyielding, softened at the sight of his wife’s expression, which was a combination of surprise and discontent, “I told you to stay at the party.” 

“And I told you I’m not some meek girl. If you are in trouble so I am, and I won't hesitate to make the fucker atone for the sin of thinking about harming you.” She stated, unbreakable and with the fury of a harpy. To this, Jack couldn’t help but grin: if the situation wasn’t so dangerous he would probably have fucked her right here, right now. With every day passing by, Eva’s reactions comforted him in the decision of belonging to her and only her. 

“Let’s stay careful. I don’t know where Changretta is… Might be as well looming in the dark and waiting to attack—“

“Oh. He’s here.”  She cut him off, one brow raised, her face composed but her gift of Clairvoyance unpleasantly rattling against her bones at the unpleasant sight. In a profound, almost animal instinct, She dug her nails into Jack’s thick sleeve as she felt her husband’s entire body tense when his eyes met with what she saw.

Luca Changretta stood against the wall like he belonged there, a tall and slender figure made of shadows. The swinging lamps of the ceiling threw their warm light at his face, bringing out his sharp traits, accentuating the hard line of his jaw, the predatory gleam in his eye, and the charisma he effortlessly exuded. With an air of casual indifference, the Capo was leaning back, his arms loosely crossed — Surprisingly, his posture was rather relaxed, while still bearing something threatening, like a panther that could spring to action in a blink the moment it smelt blood. A toothpick rolled lazily between his teeth as he carefully watched a third man across him, a man tied to a chair, his form broken and pathetic for he had been reduced to little more than a shell of fear and trembling flesh. 

Eva froze, an imaginary alarm ringing relentlessly in her brain as her genius mind quickly put two and two together —no blood on his face or on his ridiculously pricey tailored suit, a rather long distance from the victim: There was someone else. And that someone was responsible for this twisted scene, probably under Luca’s commands, but if so where was that monster?  Jack should have had the same thought for he quickly checked his surroundings to make sure no one had trapped them but, hopefully, there was no one. However, the echoing footsteps of the powerful couple had drawn the mafioso’s attention for a fleeting second. His piercing green gaze, shining in the dim light, flicked to them and paused just long enough to make sure they understood that he saw them—really saw them. Then, a grin slowly spread across his face in a chilling, knowing smile that curled his lips and reached his eyes in a way that was anything but friendly.

“Good evening, Mr.Nelson. I didn’t expect you to come to our little meeting in such a good company.” He finally said, his smooth voice slightly resounding in the cellar as he nodded at Eva’s direction to acknowledge her presence. Enemy but still a gentleman. As unexpected as it was, Luca wasn’t particularly surprised considering how skillfully manipulative and equally dangerous the new Mrs.Nelson was. Another shiver ran down the Mexican beauty, who couldn’t help but shift their focus from Luca to the tied-up victim, sobbing in muffled and exhausted squeals through the cloth that gagged him. She felt it — this presence, this fourth person hidden somewhere with a stare so burning she almost nervously scratched herself to get rid of the sensation. 

“Luca Changretta.” Jack simply said, spitting the name with so much disgust and disdain it seemed he had just taken a bite of a rotten apple, “I didn’t know you would put on a show in a pathetic attempt to scare me.” Jack stated with a raised brow — if his enemy had the slightest idea about who he was, he would surely know that cruelty didn’t impress Jack Nelson for he himself used to inflect it for business purpose. Ironically, what he loved the most was the Italian way.

“If you think all of this is to impress you let me tell you that you’re wrong,” The mafioso waved off the cutting remark with a elegant movement of the hand, “This unfortunate soul betrayed me so I had to make an example out of him. Nothing to do with you.”

That was how the men started to talk and while Eva was aware of it, the rest of their conversation blurred into unintelligible background when she noticed the tied-up man’s sudden agitation. The latter jolted and his breath hitched, muffled behind the ragged and saliva-coated cloth gag stuffed in his mouth. The air suddenly became heavy with a primal, animal fear that suffocated Eva. As her clairvoyant senses urged her to flee, her dark eyes still followed the panicking victim’s gaze until they fell on the slim and rather short frame of a woman. 

“Amore,” Luca called, interrupting his conversation with Jack Nelson due to the annoying noise he heard in the background, “Silence him.” He just ordered in a Sicilian — as a polyglot, Eva understood it — with as many emotions as if he had asked her to close the door, before focusing on his business talk again.  Two words, one command, and the girl moved closer, her steps light, almost graceful, as she entered his line of vision. She was rather small, standing no taller than 5”5, and harmless at first glance with her slender frame and radiant, ever-present smile. But Eva knew more than to trust a smile, especially this one who was nothing but deceptive - a mask to hide the hideous. She had long dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders, framing a cute but bratty face with mismatched eyes — one as dark as night, the other a brilliant, unsettling golden sun — and blood splatters.

“What…” Eva breathed. 

The man’s breathing quickened as she approached, his chest rising and falling in sharp, panicked heaves. He pulled harder at his restraints in a desperate, useless struggle but it only seemed to amuse her. The broken doll-faced woman tilted her head, her smile widening and a look of near delight crossing her face as she took in his terror.  “That’s okay.” She simply said with a fake soothing tone before pulling a sharp knife out and slicing his throat before Eva had the time to bat her eyes. The strong metallic smell of blood came in a wave so strong that Eva took a few steps back with her expensive heels clicking, eyes wide open, and nausea hitting. Jack must have borne witness to the same thing judging by the instant and worried glance he gave to his wife.

“Hm?”  The killer girl said as if she suddenly remembered that other people were in the room. She finally raised her bicolor eyes towards the Mexican beauty and paused, quietly observing Eva’s face whose exquisite color had turned two shades paler with lips parted in shock. The grotesque scene in front of her didn’t make sense — even with blood on her own hands, she could never understand such unleashed cruelty. Such a bright glimmer of pleasure when inflicting pain.  Eva was frozen, but Tina’s reaction to her presence was instant: her bloodied face lit up with gleeful recognition and her wicked grin turned into an innocent smile. She lifted her hand; still dripping with blood, and waved cheerfully.

“Oh, hey!”  She exclaimed in a light and musical voice, as though she'd just bumped into an old friend on the street. There was no malice in her tone, no hint of the brutality she had just shown.

Eva’s heart missed a beat for the first time in a while at the dissonance between her casual, innocent demeanor and the horrors she had just witnessed. It was wrong. Wrong. So fucking wrong, even for her. After all, she wasn’t a good person but she wasn’t…That. 

And “that”  was a whole other level. “That” was the kind of monster who could not be bribed, not be stopped. An abomination that no money nor power could restraint. 

And “that”?

That was Tina. 

tag: @runnning-outof-time, @evita-shelby, @peakyswritings

[ectologia]

The bakugou putting you in a headlock was so fucking filthy... I loved it 😭

i forgot about that one

it’s so hot

like just imagine being put in a choke-hold with bakugou’s massive pumped biceps around your neck and you’re just coughing and heaving into his elbow while he hits it from the back

or a full nelson where he literally just folds you like a deck chair and drills into your pussy from below, feet planted into the mattress, jacking your twat while his fat ball-sack slaps against your clit

or even, a standing full nelson where he bounces you on his cock mid-air

just up and down, up and down

nothin’ you can do about it

and he does that thing guys do when they’re going so fast their grunts and moans sort of quiver in-time with their thrusts

like rr — rr — rr — rr

and he’s gritting his teeth and growling while he humps

literally clenching his ass because he’s going at it so hard

[nanabrainrot]

Leg Lock [Pervert!Miguel]

Miguel isn’t convinced you’re as adept in as many martial arts as you say; he says you can only prove it with a spar.

Warning! NSFW content ahead. DUBIOUS CONSENT - reader is oblivious the way he’s wrestling is to cop a feel and that he cums on himself :/ what a freak

Pervert!Miguel x F!Oblivious!Reader

▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰ ▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰ ▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰

You were none the wiser. Your spidey senses just didn’t pick up on the ways of men - you were no mind reader. The definition of book smart but not street smart. It’s unbelievable you accepted his personal “challenge” to spar and no less showed up in this ensemble: the smallest compression shorts that was barely even the size of boyshorts and a form fitting tank with a v that dipped dangerously low to the stretch of skin between your tits.

The fact he turned up the air conditioner and had the fan looming above on full blast only served to sweeten the sight by making your nipples pebble against the polyester mix. If he put enough friction across your chest, if you were sensitive you’d surely moan or at least give him a choked gasp; something to jack off to later.

“You ready to eat your words, Miguel?” you huffed seriously. The comical difference between you two was shown in the shadow cast by the fluorescent overhead light in the spinning fan: he was standing hands on his hips and stone-faced at one end of the personal training room and you at the other, bouncing on the balls of your feet with hands already stiff in front like a boxer. It didn’t help it looked like a yippy chihuahua hounding a rottweiler for a fight.

“Just try to at least land a hit -“

You lunged forward, shin flying up to try and meet his neck only to be blocked by his forearm. His eyes widen at your fast pace, but narrow as he meets your onslaught of moves with defenses. The little wraps around your fists do graze his skin as you batter at him with a flurry of fists like a boxer, though your kicks definitely reminded him of capoeira. The speed of it had to be from mixed martial arts and speedboxing while your grace and precision was karate inspired. And he could tell you did jiu jitsu by the way you tried to get him in a leg lock, jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist and use your arms to push at his neck hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

You had to have known that move would have put you in this position: back pressed hard to the mat with no way out. You were incredibly skilled, surprising him with the flurry of fists and kicks fast enough to put him in a position where he could only really use defense but definitely underestimated what he was willing to do to best you.

Miguel had a black belt in jiu jitsu, teaching classes at the dojo Gabby went to back in Nueva York, hard pressed to raise a girl who could handle her own. If you hadn’t overestimated yourself and started off using so much energy, you wouldn’t be panting like this.

Your brows knit, face tense with focus as you gauged your next move but his mind was anywhere but this spar: his cock was against your groin. The sorry excuse of shorts left nothing to the imagination only confirmed that under it was nothing but your bare puffy cunt as his knees drove into the mat to set you in place under him, your wrists pinned under his. “You didn’t land a hit. Too big of an ego can get you -“

A hard impact of your feet hitting his pecs and sending him back from the surprise as you rolled back in a tuck and jumped to your feet back in a boxing stance. Flyaways stuck out from your messy hair from being pinned to the mat as your chest heaved, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Can get me what?” you snorted in between short breaths.

“Get you -“ Miguel lunged forward, his legs long and strong enough to dart behind you to grab you by the waist and drag you to the floor, “-killed.”

Whines and grunts of struggle left you as you tried to get out of the compromising position: Miguel had you in a nelson on the floor, big hot palms of his hands on your neck and arm pinning back your biceps as you tried to grab at his wrists to apply enough force to get him to have a looser grip.

Too focused is a bad thing, sometimes. The fabric of your volleyball compression shorts that were more like panties rode up as your ass grinded against his groin - cock hard and twitching in his sweatpants as your feet struggled to get enough friction with the mat to be able to do a backbend or tuck and roll to use your flexibility. Dozens of possible routes flit in your mind and zero of them acknowledged you were basically being dry humped by Miguel: his grunts from the friction mistakes for grunts of effort. In reality, you were easy to restrain but the issue was your agility and speed compared to his strength - a given granted his strength based workout regimen versus yours, which focused on flexibility.

“If powers were allowed, I’d have had you pinned in the first minute,” you panted, lip twitching in focus as you continued to roll your hips against his as you struggled to find footing to be able to utilize your flexibility and roll over him. He must be smart, you think (stupidly), as his legs suddenly push against the mat and have him standing: yet you hang there in a full nelson. “That’s not funny, Miguel!” you hissed, as his forearms settled under your thighs during the shift and the palms secured at your neck still. The size difference suddenly made you realize why spars had size and weight classes; but there were no weight classes with the villains and anomalies you regularly encountered, he chastisted as he offered a spar with you.

If you had your powers allowed, you would’ve had him against the ceiling by now. But you shook on it. God, you wish you had a weaker sense of integrity and just said fuck it and blasted him with your power to get out of this humiliating debacle. The only thing left in reach was his fingers.

Your hands fly to the fingers locked behind your neck keeping you mid air as you resorted to a dirty trick: scratching with nails. A low hiss emits as he drops you and loses footing, landing on top of you: groin to ass. The dirty trick leaves him huffing with anger as he suddenly has you in a head lock, your hands batting at him pathetically. You just wanted to tap out, he could tell, but he just needed one thing: to have his way.

His hips roll into your pussy, feigning it as trying to keep you pinned by shifting weight from knee to knee in a side-to-side motion and lurched forward sometimes. The fact you kept bucking your hips to get out of the pin only helped him along; the warmth of your pussy would have been nicer, but next spar. Knowing your competitive nature, you would go along with a naked wrestling competition if it meant coming out on top.

But he’s on top right now, his hot breath fanning your ear as you mewl and bat at the thick forearnms around your neck pinning you. “F-fine…!” you whine out, borderline pornographic in your pleading, “you win!”

His hips roll again, with you still bucking your hips back into him. “Say it again.” He knew your whiny nature, the way when you wanted your way you would do anything: most missions consisted of you pleading and begging to see the sights on other dimensions or stop by food stalls like you were on vacation. He fucking spoiled you but even bratty bitches need discipline.

“You win!”

“Louder!”

“You win, Miguel!”

A hot pant. Fuck, the way you were whining and bucking in this position was getting him close. A few more words and he’d surely cum, wearing the dark sweatpants and a long baggy tee that loomed over where the wet spot would be specifically with this in mind. No powers put you in a disadvantage, the height and mass difference would never let you win. A spar was just a reason to hump you as you stupidly wriggled and cried out. One more sentence, then he’ll cum, cum and stop. The urge will leave and he can go back to being sated and content without distraction; he was too busy to keep entertaining this disgusting fantasy of fucking you every day and night. Just one more sentence to freedom.

A hot puff of air in your ear before a deep raspy voice hisses, “Now tell me I’m big and strong and I’ll let you go.” Your eyes widen as you look in confusion at the mat, his face behind you as you chest was still glued to the mat thanks to his weight.

“T-tell you what?”

“Say ‘you’re too big and strong for me, Miguel.’” A roll of the hips.

“No! I can still win!” you buck back harder, hips shifting hard between his groin and the mat to try and get out. Your nails sink into his forearms but he doesn’t move. You can’t get out until you say it. It’s a shameful dawn of emotion that wounds your pride. But you can get stronger, spar with him more, until you can beat him - powers or no powers.

“Say it and you can go.” The wriggling winds down as time stretches, you finally going limp and panting on the mat with his weight still crushing you.

A gulp.

Softer than a whisper, “You’re so big and strong, Miguel…”

The cum spurts into his briefs, inevitably ruining them and leaving a wet spot in the pants. You’re too tired, limp, to feel his clothed dick twitch against your pussy through the shorts.

You don’t even feel happy when he clumbers off you; in your universe you were a master of the arts and your powers only enhanced this great feat. Yet, you still lost to your boss. You want a rematch.

No.

You need a rematch.

He clumbers away, slow heavy footfalls and low panting breaths as he strides to the exit of the personal training room. Sitting back on your heels still panting but back to him as he walked away you find enough energy to ask: “Same time next week, Miguel?”

You’ll win. You’ll run a million miles, do a thousand crunches, and eat your weight - no, Miguel’s weight in protein and come out victorious next week as you always do. Just because he’s a man it didn’t mean you had no chance: it only meant you had to work harder.

Quiet. He’s panting though, you hear it, but the strain in his voice isn’t just from the spar: “Same time next week.”

▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰ ▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰ ▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰━▰

hope yall likedd feel free to leave requests or anything in my inbox! its p empty rn - I have a hobie fic coming next <3

[zablife]

Fragile Things

Jack Nelson x female reader

Author's Note: Written from an anon ask I can't find in my inbox anymore, requesting some soft, smutty Jack thru the seasons. It turned angsty at the end as I listened to "Munich" by the Editors, but I hope you still enjoy it! It's short with an open ending, but I thought I'd post it instead of letting it sit in my drafts any longer.

Warnings: hint of smut, mention of cheating

The open window blew a gentle spring breeze into the room along with the scent of lilacs you’d planted in the fall. You’d kept busy those dark months as Jack traveled, trying not to think what might happen if he never returned. It hadn’t been easy to calm yourself in the early days, whispering prayers into the wind. Your unsteady hands craved his touch upon your shoulder tethering you to reality. Without it, you felt as though you might float away. Sometimes you still found it difficult if he went too long without visiting.

But he’s here now, you thought as you gazed up at him, memorizing every golden fleck in his bright green irises. The feeling of his arms caging your upper body protectively was comforting and you dug your heels against the backs of his thighs, urging him nearer to your aching core. He pushed you further into the mattress with a deep stroke of his pelvis, full lips brushing yours before licking into your mouth hungrily. It was the first time your mind had truly quieted in weeks.

As you came down from your high, you whimpered at the loss of him as he withdrew from your body, rolling onto his back with a contented sigh. He reached for you with one arm, beckoning you to his side and you nuzzled into him. His fingers carded through your hair, massaging your scalp and tangling in your disheveled locks. You pressed your cheek against his bare chest to feel the rhythm of his heart, allowing it to lull you to sleep when he suddenly spoke. 

“Gotta go to New York tomorrow, doll,” he whispered on an exhale of breath. Closing your eyes against the tears threatening to fall, you snaked a hand around his waist possessively. It had only been two days since his return and the thought of him leaving again was too much to bear. You glanced at the clock on the bedside table quickly realizing your crushing loneliness was only hours away.

You sat up, clutching the bedsheet to your chest as you stared at Jack in disbelief. “Can't you stay any longer? You just got here,” you protested, hoping to change his mind.

Jack rubbed a hand along your back soothingly. “I know, angel, but it’s business. I have to,” he explained. Despite the softness in his voice, you took no solace in it.

Turning away from him to reach for his jacket, you fumbled in the dark for his cigarettes and lighter, needing something to distract you. “You’ll be a good girl for me, no pouting?,” he asked and without having to look, you could imagine his mouth curling into a charming smile. As your fingertips brushed paper, you frowned slightly. Pulling it from his pocket, you squinted in the light to make out a woman’s name and a New York address. Your heart dropped at the sight of the unfamiliar loopy handwriting and tomorrow's date inside a heart.

“Doll?” he called out when he realized you were softly shaking your head. His large hand came to rest atop your thigh and gave a gentle squeeze to get your attention, but your thoughts had drifted back where he could no longer reach you. You were somewhere in the garden planting flowers while he dined with her, falling asleep in a cold bed as he warmed hers and dreaming of a man who never thought of you.

You stood from the bed and glared down at him with a quiet anger he instantly recognized, the accusation written over your tear stained face. “People are fragile things, Jack,” you mused. “You should be careful what you put them through."

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Imagine being Jack Nelson's Trusted Secretary

Jack Nelson x Reader

Slight!Thomas Shelby x reader

Summary: Being Jack Nelson's secretary comes with some lovely perks... But also some unfortunate assumptions about your morals.

You had been Mr. Jack Nelson's secretary for years now. Out of all his secretaries, you had stayed the longest and were the only one to abstain from sleeping with him. Not for his lack of trying, mind you. The fact that you were still unmarried and single was a crime in his eyes. You were a pretty young thing, all doe-eyed and red-lipped. Jack used to make you blush with his sweet talk. All those days he'd brush by you and say, "The smell of your perfume in the morning is better than coffee, sweetheart."

Over time, his flirtations stopped being shocking. He wasn't a pig, thank God, but Mr. Nelson could not resist a bit of cheeky banter with you. Asking you, "When are you going to make me the happiest man alive and let me take you dancing?" to which you would reply, "Never, sir."

No matter how familiar he acted with you, you made sure to keep your distance. He had never been inside your apartment. You would decline gifts if they were too extravagant (though they still ended up on your porch). Still, regardless of you keeping the relationship strictly professional, rumors happen. The other girls in the office would see how his hand sat on your lower back. Men he would meet with noticed how his eyes followed you as you crossed a room. People heard how he would speak to you: "There's my guardian angel!" - "The red lipstick again? Please, you know I can't act right when you wear the red." - "Tell me my schedule again. No, I heard you, I just like to hear you read. Your voice soothes me."

No matter what he said or did, you remained calm. Sometimes batting his hand away or chiding him like a mischievous boy. That only seemed to rile him up more.

That was how you two had always been. With Mr. Nelson being a shameless flirt and you putting him down in the most professional (but direct) way possible. Even if you had called him an asshole, Jack probably wouldn't have fired you. Not after he realized how smoothly his life ran with you behind the scenes. You had a great mind for remembering names, dates, and how he knew people. Jack was a sociable guy, popular too. He tended to forget who exactly people were and wasn't always graceful in those interactions. To his associates, criminal or otherwise, Jack had a photographic memory. Because you were whispering names into his ear. Jack never missed an appointment with you around either. You were his lucky charm, which was why he had to bring you to England with him.

Enter Mr. Shelby.

Jack had brought you around hundreds of men before, many of whom had tried to flirt with you. Thomas Shelby had been the first to make you blush. It was a simple thing. Thomas and Jack sat down for their meeting and Jack had asked, "A light, doll?" You went over to him with your match and he smiled at you as he took his first puffs. Tommy held up his cigarette as a silent request.

As you leaned down to him to light his cigarette, his pale eyes bore into yours. You tried the strike a match for him and the stick was a dud. After three more tries to light a second, his hands took yours. He lit the match and exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth. You sputtered an apology and when you turned back around Jack saw your cheeks flush. His good mood was gone.

The meeting went on until Tommy decided to push a bit further. And here was where that old assumption came back to rear its head.

"I was surprised, Mr. Nelson, to find that you would bring your wife and mistress on the same boat. More surprised that you would set both women up in the very same hotel. I take it they're aware of each other?"

Jack's cigarette paused in its journey to his lips. His brow furrowed as he thought, 'Mistress?' He hadn't had a consistent lover in a few years now. Between entertaining his wife, he kept his bedmates fresh and on a frequent rotation. Jack followed Thomas' eyes, and found them set on you as you flipped through your ever-growing booklet of contacts. Feeling eyes on you, you raised your head and blinked owlishly, "Pardon?"

Mr. Nelson waved a hand, "Don't worry about it sweetheart. Go take a break, you've earned some time with your heels propped." You started to complain that you should be there to take notes, Jack would hear none of it, "I mean it, go relax."

You sighed and exited the room. Jack felt almost relieved. He wouldn't correct Mr. Shelby. Not tonight. Not with the way his eyes had followed you as you went out the door. And especially not after he said, "I've never seen the appeal of American women. They always seemed loud, attention-seeking... garish. I can see not all fit the mold."

"Oh, she's not always so meek. She's just on her best behavior," Jack forced back on his cavalier persona. Too little too late. Thomas Shelby was a shark and there was blood in the water. He went in for the kill.

There was a glint to Mr. Shelby's eye, "I think I'd like to see what she looks like when she's behaving badly. I've a weakness for red lipstick."

Jack's knuckles were turning white as he gripped the arm of his chair with his left hand, "Let's get back to our previous discussion, huh?"

"Of course."

[evita-shelby]

Hunt

Vampire Hunter!Jack Nelson x Vampire!Reader

Cw: murder, blood, seduction, revenge

Gif by @violaobanion

He doesn’t know if it’s the boredom or his impulsive nature that has him following you out the speakeasy with the drunk fool you play like a fiddle.

He's seen you before, always leading men or women out and then they are never seen again.

He’d found some of your victims, despite what you did to dispose of them they all had one thing in common.

They had been drained from their blood.

Jack had heard the tales, of these demons who drank away your soul through your blood.

He had assumed they’d be ugly and deformed like they paint all demons ,but you were stunning, almost shone like a diamond in the lights of the place and shined like ivory under the light of the moon.

So he follows you, watches you bring the man into an empty alley and drain him from his blood before disposing of him like a professional cleaner.

He wants you, as bad of an idea as it was, Jack wants you.

“It’s rude to stare, honey.” You say with a sultry tone he’s always dreamed of hearing.

“Can’t a man admire such a work of art, baby doll?” he asks coming into the abandoned tenement building.

“I bet you say that to all the ladies, Mr. Nelson.” You smile and fall into a fall sense of security thinking he’s easy prey.

“Only the pretty ones, Y/N,” he said coming closer, like a man seeking a lover would.

You are onto him, using all your charms to seduce him into staying and he does a good job of looking like he’s under your spell.

He should give acting a try, he already pretends to be fine with being a wall-street investor and the future president’s friend. And now he has you fooled.

If you hadn’t been so foolish you would’ve seen the crucifix under his shirt, smelled the holy water in his breath and felt the wooden blade hidden under his sleeve.

He pulled you into his arms, and you wrapped your arms around his neck still thinking you’ve won.

He smirks when you taste defeat in his poisoned kiss and find yourself at his mercy.

But he doesn’t got any, nor for you. Not for the woman who killed his brother and made sweet little Gina an orphan a year ago.

“That was for my brother.”

Once its over, he lights a cigarette and tossed the match at the pile of bodies you now lie on top of.

[angelic--kitty]

I’m making an educated guess based on the abs poll that you also like ripped Genshin women and honestly who would be more jacked than the god of war herself? There’s even a bulletin board post in the arena that the weights she uses for training in her personal chambers are so heavy that when she puts them down they are mistaken for small earthquakes. Like I can’t be the only one finding that insanely hot right??? I can just imagine watching her work out and marveling at her and your staring just turning her on so much that she stops and just takes you on the floor of her chambers 🫣

oh my god this made me gasp

SHE IS 100% JACKED!!! ABS AND ALL I KNOW IT I KNOW IT IDC

on my knees for her tbh... teehee

i want her to pick me up and fuck me full nelson i mean what who said that what

also anon this was so well articulated where have you been in my life 😼💍

[call-sign-shark]

Bird of A Feather || Peaky Blinders x OCs

A short story for the wonderful @evita-shelby inspired by her moodboard gift Bird of A Feather.

Words: less than 1k

TW: Tommy and Heaven together (this is real warning for any HYE reader😂), allusions to drugs, overdose and sex. Ethical slur because of the show. Also this is not proof read, we die like men.

Notes: Reference to this chapter of HYE.

None of this was supposed to happen.

It was what Heaven thought when she watched her own reflection in the mirror of the ridiculously expensive suite's bathroom Mr. Shelby had booked for their stay in Boston. As she reflected on her new life, her slender fingers nervously tried to untangle the long gold and diamond earring chain Tommy had gifted her prior the trip. The vortex of her raging thoughts was so wild that she didn't hear the door opening, nor the husky and charming voice that called her name. Her body suddenly jerked when she felt one strong yet warm hand resting on her shoulder — She turned around in one vivid movement, the angelic complexions of her face only relaxing when they met with familiar turquoise eyes.

"Are you ready?" Tommy asked, one of his brow slightly arched as his piercing and ice-cold iris carefully observed the white-haired woman's features.

"Almost, but I can't seem to get rid out of this damn knot."

"Let me check." Three words again, said with the same collected tone whose deep and sultry voice sent shivers down her spine. Without wasting more saliva, Tommy brought his hands to the jewel and started to untangle it. "Don't you like it?" He broke the silence, "You always wear gold, but diamonds make a delightful echo to your crystal eyes." The thought of Tommy noticing such trivial details about her still felt odd considering how profound their mutual hatred had been for years. But Lizzie taking the kids had given them a little push.

"I do." She reassured, offering him a faint smile. They were so close that she could feel the heat radiating off him, as well as the elegant fragrances of his cologne tingling her nostrils.

"So why do you look so unhappy, ay?" He finally succeed in rearranging her earring, his calloused fingers gently grazing her reddened earlobe before finding rest on one of her cold cheeks. Tenderly. Lovingly.

"I'm just a bit anxious. I always hated big gatherings, let alone when the whole crowd is made of political figures, rich heirs and nobs." The way her lips pouted and her expression turned into a childish one as she pressed her face harder against his comforting palm snatched an amused snort from him, and yet… Tommy understood — her wild soul belonged to the forest and mountains no matter the expensive jewels and finest, seductive dresses. Heaven was not cut for this hypocritical world. The gangster leaned over her dainty frame and brought his face closer until their fiery breathe mixed and their nose touched.

“Think of them as your stupid little preys, just like you did in the forest. You might be on their territory but you are the predator here, and they should be the ones quivering with fear. Not you.” He pronounced this in intoxicating whispers that manage to lull her anxiety — or maybe it was because she was focusing on how his breath had quickened now that their mouths were so close. Batting her eyelashes, the white witch slowly nodded: they would be the real menace of the whole ballroom. Tommy drowned himself in the frost desert of her eyes for a bit, his thumb slightly pulling her fleshy lower lip down, “And if it is not enough, remember that I’ll stay by your side and keep you out of sorrow.” As he concluded, his placid face split in a wide and fierce grin that showcased his teeth. A genuine Tommy Shelby’s smile, scarcer than the rarest gem.

“And I’ll keep you out of it too.” She replied, mirroring his smile but with a more moderate one.

“That’s it, Devil.” He affectionately called the petite witch before his sweet liquored lips crashed against hers, the whisky taste blinding all her other senses and making the world outside fade to black. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, surges of electricity cursing through her body as the infamous gangster deepened the embrace. Amidst the chaos they had left behind in Birmingham they stood, his free hand pressing on her lower back to pull her closer until his strong chest flattened her small breast and every of their curves fit snugly altogether. After all that separated them, Tommy had finally won: his brother’s beloved angel belonged to him and only him… Conquered and with her wings pinned, Heaven forgot how wrong it felt and gave in, her tongue shyly waltzing with her old enemy’s. With that wicked brother-in-law she wished to see dead not that long ago. When their mouth parted and Heaven tried to break the embrace to go back dolling herself up, Tommy grabbed her wrist firmly, pupils dilated with pride and lust.

“No. Kiss me again.” His husky voice ordered.

The whole party was probably the most boring one she had ever attended and to make her evening worst, Americans proved that their awful tastes also encompassed alcohol. Not the smallest bottle of red wine had been put on tables, only dry and bitter champagne they were proud to show off as if it was the pinnacle of the French culture. Heaven winced after the first sip and immediately put the glass back where she had taken it, hoping no one had notice her bad manners — she definitely wasn’t one of them, and navigating among the upper-class crowd was not as easy as Tommy made it look. Her mind started to form the words “Arthur would never…” but soon her heart tightened in her chest and she forced herself to chase away the thought of her beloved former husband. “Arthur is not here anymore.” Tommy’s voice echoed in her head. In truth, the lanky gangster had stopped being there the moment he relapsed in drug again, trading cocaine for opium. It had been too much and, loyal to her principles, Heaven left. Never ever she would have imagined that Arthur would be found months later in the Chinese quarters with a syringe in his arm, devoid of life. And while she was spitefully musing over and over again on these cursed memories, two vicious pair of eyes stared at her.

“She looks like she’s about to murder everyone here.” A bewitching feminine voice resounded, catching the attention of the tall American man standing next to her, “I like that.” Eva added, bringing the fine crystal of her glass to her blood-red lips to sip the fancy cocktail she had ordered. At her words, Jack’s mouth curled in a shark-like smile, the scar on his upper lip stretching as he did.

“And she’s hot.” He said, the couple giving each other a conspiratorial glance, “That’s what you were about to say, weren’t you, Goddess?” His manly hand discreetly slipped from her lower back to her ass, grabbing one of her cheeks firmly. Eva snort in reply, side-eying her cheeky husband before focusing her attention on the delicate but wild angel that was impatiently waiting for Tommy to come back from his smoke outside. Lost in her contemplation for a short while, the Mexican witch wondered how such a seraph-looking creature could wear a stare that cold. How could she radiate off something that… Unsettling? Anxiety-inducing? Threatening? She couldn’t even find the right word.

“Feeling sinful, Daddy?” The Mexican beauty, sublimed by an overtly expensive red dress, cooed with a sultry tone that would have turned the meanest man to a brainless drooling dog.

“With you? Always, Goddess.” He winked at her before leaning for a kiss on her temple but a few seconds later the two future presidential couple saw their new associate coming back to the ballroom and heading straight to the lonely white-haired brat, “So you were right, she’s Thomas Shelby’s sweetheart. The Gypsie bastard got himself a fucking pretty pussy.”

“A witch.” Eva corrected, her tone stricter as she pronounced the word, “And he’s rather handsome too. Both are highly fuckable.” She mused, her dark eyes never leaving the newlyweds.

“Well, let me introduce you to them then! After all, we’re in business together now.” Jack suggested, burying his nose in his wife’s long dark hair to relish on her enchanting perfume. Fuck — if they weren’t that busy he would have ruined her cunt in another room right now.

“Excellent idea, Jack. Introduce me to them.” Eva emphasizes on the word, finally looking at the tall American with the flames of sin dancing in her evil eyes. It was all it took for Jack to understand his wife’s intentions… And they were in total harmony with his. “I hope we could officialize our partnership with them in a more intimate and fun way than just a handshake.” As possessive as they were together — as possessive as the English and French mirror facing them — Eva foresaw their agreement about her perverse suggestion, but the truth was there was no need to be a clairvoyant witch for guessing right.

The four of them were all sinners.

[thatthirdtriplet]

Relationships:

Batfamily Members & Alfred Pennyworth Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson Martha Wayne/Thomas Wayne Bruce Wayne & Martha Wayne & Thomas Wayne Janet Drake/Jack Drake John Constantine/Zatanna Zatara

Characters:

Tim Drake Cassandra Cain Bruce Wayne Jason Todd Dick Grayson duke Thomas Damian Wayne Alfred Pennyworth Stephanie Brown Barbara Gordon Jim Gordon Jack Drake Janet Drake Ra's al Ghul Leslie Tompkins prudence Wood Zeddmore WashingtonOwens (DCU) David Cain original Characters John Constantine Zatanna ZataraKent Nelson Harvey Dent Edward Nygma Roman Sionis The Joker Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) J'onn J'onzz

Additional Tags:

BAMF Tim Drake BAMF Batfamily (DCU) BAMF Alfred Pennyworth I don't write slash or incest fanfiction so if that's your thing this is not for you alternate Universe - Time Travel possession mild Language implied Sexual Content Dark Character Implied/Referenced Character Death BAMF Cassandra Cain

Summary:

Tim and Cass must journey into the past to save the future. The rest of their family must battle a present evil that seeks to destroy everything. They all learn there is much more to their lives than they ever imagined.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

Jamie and Keeley fell back in love with each other on Keeley’s doorstep in 3x08. In this essay, I will—

Ah. You know what? I will, actually.

Ahem. Ever since Jamie came back to Richmond, him and Keeley have had an amicable and mutually affectionate relationship (always greeting one another, etc), but I don’t think there’s anything to suggest that they spend a lot of time together socially after Jamie’s return. Then there’s the funeral business and the fallout of that and the next time we see them interact it’s a whole new season, and given the slight awkwardness of otherwise fond encounter, I’d argue it’s likely the first time (or at least one of the relatively few times) they’ve talked in a bit. Not because they’ve been avoiding each other as such, but I imagine things got a little bit weird after Jamie’s profession of love. Once that was somewhat sorted (and in my heart I imagine some small conversation between them after Jamie and Roy have it all out, Keeley getting in touch like “I hear you apologized to Roy”) it’s the off-season, so there’s few chances of them bumping into each other at Nelson Road – and I do think that maybe Jamie was keen to maintain a respectful distance for a while, just to make it very clear that he’s not trying to woo her. As for Keeley, she was busy with her new company, so yeah, for all of those reasons, they didn’t see much of each other. Don’t really for two thirds of season 3 either.

But they never stop being fond of each other, yeah? They never stop caring. They’re just both all up in their own lives, Keeley with KJPR and her heartbreak and later her girlfriend, and Jamie with striving to be the best player and the best person he can be, the Zava of it all, and Roy. We know Keeley takes note of the changes in Jamie, but she’s got other priorities.

Then: the leak, and Jamie showing up on her doorstep, and the hug. And yes, of course it’s nothing but a headcanon, but to me that marks the moment when that old spark is quietly but undeniably rekindled.  

It’s pretty obvious in Jamie’s case. We know he never stopped loving Keeley: he accepted that their future was friendship and he focused on other things, but he never stopped loving her. And once he stood there, holding her, held by her, enveloped in her kindness and affection and with that familiar press of her body against his, her scent, everything he felt for her roared right back into full and flaming life: it’s not only loving her, it’s being in love with her. It’s arguably this (and the belief that her and Roy are well and truly over) that leads to him putting the moves on in 3x12.

For Keeley, I think it’s a bit more muted – more a realization of ‘I really like who this person has become and I’m so proud of how he’s grown and I could see something between us again’. (Also, holding him, being held. It’s Pavlovian.) It’s not really something she particularly plans to act on: she’s still reeling from the video leak and the Jack of it all, and she’s busy with her company. Still, it’s there.

For both of them, it’s there. Not grand or sweeping or all-consuming, not something that must lead to anything, but… Jamie and Keeley fell back in love with each other on that doorstep, and even if that doesn’t necessarily mean that things immediately or ever turn romantic between them again, they slowly but surely start hanging out properly again after that, just because they’ve been reminded of how much they truly like each other. How glad they are of one another. (Which does not in any way lessen or change the love they both have for Roy, by the way. The heart has infinite room.)

[mayhemchicken-varneyposting]

Varney the Vampire, Chapter 15: Shiver Me Timbers

[Previous chapter] [Next chapter]

While Henry and Marchdale are off visiting Varney, an expensive coach pulls up to an inn in a nearby town. The occupants, a grizzly old Navy admiral and his *ahem* valet, a sailor named Jack Pringle, enter the inn, demanding a private room and an audience with one Josiah Crinkles, a lawyer. These two old sailors spend pretty much the entire chapter, and indeed every moment of shared page time they get, arguing like an old married couple and talking in heavily exaggerated nautical slang.

The admiral, Bell, turns out to be Charles Holland's uncle, and he has a letter from Mr. Crinkles urging him to chase down his nephew at once and stop him from marrying into a family with a vampyre in it. Mr. Crinkles, after reading over said letter, tells Admiral Bell that he did not write the letter in question, and indeed he didn't even know the admiral had a nephew, let alone one connected with all this vampire business. The letter, then, is a forgery, penned by an unknown hand.

The two sailors insist on having a drink with Mr. Crinkles, and he offers to tell them what he knows of the whole affair, as well as some lore about vampires - specifically, that anyone who is bitten by a vampire will become one, including Charles' would-be bride. The admiral and Jack Pringle resolve to find Charles and the Bannerworths and learn the truth, and fight the vampire too if it comes down to it.

Ladies and gentlemen, the comic relief has arrived.

The chapter opens with a quite lengthy description of how gossip concerning the vampire attack has spread from the Bannerworth's servants to the whole surrounding countryside. We already knew this, of course, as Henry found out when he went to see Chillingworth, but the author reminds us anyway, at length.

There, it seemed as if the lovers of the horrible made a point of holding their head quarters, and so thirsty did the numerous discussions make the guests, that the landlord was heard to declare that he, from his heart, really considered a vampyre as very nearly equal to a contested election.

I will grant this line is pretty funny.

We are now introduced to Admiral Bell and his rascally sidekick Jack Pringle, who are one thrown bottle away from divorce at all times. These two men are so nautical it is physically painful.

He was attired in ample and expensive clothing, but every article had a naval animus about it, if we may be allowed such an expression with regard to clothing.

The author spontaneously decides his story is set in the Regency period; Admiral Bell is described as wearing "the undress naval uniform of an officer of high rank some fifty or sixty years ago", and Jack Pringle makes the following observation about the inn they've arrived at:

"They call this the Nelson's Arms; and you know, shiver me, that for the best half of his life he had but one."

Nelson, for the record, died in 1805.

To give an idea of the sort of nautical tomfoolery I had to slog through for this chapter, I will reproduce a small sample of dialogue; imagine, if you will, pages and pages of this bullshit.

"Heave to!" he then shouted to the postilion, who was about to drive the chaise into the yard. "Heave to, you lubberly son of a gun! we don't want to go into dock."

"Ah!" said the old man, "let's get out, Jack. This is the port; and, do you hear, and be cursed to you, let's have no swearing, d—n you, nor bad language, you lazy swab."

"Aye, aye," cried Jack; "I've not been ashore now a matter o' ten years, and not larnt a little shore-going politeness, admiral, I ain't been your walley de sham without larning a little about land reckonings. Nobody would take me for a sailor now, I'm thinking, admiral."

"Hold your noise!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

At least it's funny for now; the constant arguing between these two starts to wear on the nerves as the story goes on.

Jack Pringle namedrops Charles, although it's not confirmed until later in the chapter that he refers to Charles Holland.

"Well, but where's Master Charles? Lawyers, in course, sir, is all blessed rogues; but, howsomdever, he may have for once in his life this here one of 'em have told us of the right channel, and if so be as he has, don't be the Yankee to leave him among the pirates. I'm ashamed on you."

There's a lot of lawyer-bashing in this chapter.

Mr. Crinkles (don't you love how there's two different characters introduced in this chapter that are named after potato chips) reminds me of Discworld's A. E. Pessimal, minus the surprise bloodlust. A "very conversible, nice, gentlemanly little man", he contrasts amusingly with the two rambunctious sailors.

"So you are Crinkles, are you?" cried the admiral. "Sit down, though you are a lawyer."

"Thank you, sir. I am an attorney, certainly, and my name as certainly is Crinkles."

"Look at that."

The admiral placed the letter in the little lawyer's hands, who said,—

"Am I to read it?"

"Yes, to be sure."

"Aloud?"

"Read it to the devil, if you like, in a pig's whisper, or a West India hurricane."

"Oh, very good, sir. I—I am willing to be agreeable, so I'll read it aloud, if it's all the same to you."

The letter, besides warning Admiral Bell of Charles Holland's imminent decision to marry A Vampyre, contains a "definition" of vampires which is bafflingly unhelpful:

"P.S. I enclose you Dr. Johnson's definition of a vampyre, which is as follows:

"VAMPYRE (a German blood-sucker)—by which you perceive how many vampyres, from time immemorial, must have been well entertained at the expense of John Bull, at the court of St. James, where no thing hardly is to be met with but German blood-suckers."

Mr. Crinkles, as it turns out, has never seen this letter in his life. Who wrote it, then, is and remains a mystery; the authorship of this letter never comes up again in the text. I mean, it was probably Varney, but that's never confirmed.

Admiral Bell and Jack Pringle seem to have a very shaky grasp on what a vampire is; evidently Dr. Johnson's definition was not helpful.

"Shiver my timbers, if I knows what a wamphigher is, unless he's some distant relation to Davy Jones!"

"The vampyre!"

"Ah! I always forget the names of strange fish. I suppose, after all, it's something of the mermaid order?"

Mr. Crinkles provides an astonishingly detailed account of the vampire attack on Flora, and repeats the idea that all victims of vampire attacks become vampires themselves. Jack Pringle accidentally hits on the reason why in vampire stories this is usually not the case:

"Whew!" whistled Jack; "she might bite us all, and we should be a whole ship's crew o' wamphighers. There would be a confounded go!"

If vampirism has a 100% transmission rate, the vampire population grows exponentially. We will eventually learn more about how vampirism actually spreads in this story; for now, as far as anybody knows, Flora is set to become a vampire after death.

At the end of the chapter, Jack refers to Charles as "our nevy", which I will point to as evidence that he is, in fact, more than a valet. (These aren't the only gay sailors Rymer has written, either. Ask me about the background gay couple in The String of Pearls/Sweeney Todd.)

Next: The worst romantic dialogue I have ever read in my life