#and definitely got misty about it like you're killing me here

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary:  Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

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The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying.  He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it.  God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up,  sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears. 

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.” 

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.”  The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth?  These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.  

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did. 

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce.  Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment…  I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned.  “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.”  He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.” 

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned. 

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you���re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @bluevenus19

#arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x oc #Thomas Shelby #Tommy shelby x reader #Tommy shelby x oc #Arthur shelby x you #arthur shelby jr #arthur shelby x y/n #Arthur shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #john shelby x reader #Arthur shelby x ofc #Heaven Shelby #Polly Gray #Michael Gray #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #Paul anderson #Cillian Murphy #Heaven shelby #arthur shelby x heaven lavey #Heaven Lavey #Peaky blinders OC #paul anderson #peaky blinders #arthur shelby fanfic #arthur shelby fanfiction

[staghunters]

Some things I liked about the S2 finale (Not a whole lot, but there were bits that stood out!)

Okay so, Lottie's total rejection of the hunting and killing of people for food. It was expected based on the way she talked in the previous ep, but what really got me is that she outright says that "no, that's not what I meant" to Misty, and Misty going in Hard with the manipulation. Idk exactly what Misty's intentions were in doing that, but most of it leans towards her thinking that this is what's right for the survival of the team. Also, creating fear amongst the group is a good tactic to avoid being outright outcasted.

Lottie picking Nat as (antler) queen. Cool moment. I doubt Lottie was being truthful about the wilderness channeling through her that it wants Nat to be queen. After Misty's talk with her, this definitely comes from a place to manipulate right back. Who better to put in the position of power than someone who doesn't want it/any of what is going on? Nat now has the power to keep things under control, but from what we saw that will happen, it will starts slipping on her as well. And I'm all here for that corruption arc. Speaking off: SHAUNA? Our gal is jealous, she is going insane over this. It's literally like she wrote it down: she thought that Jackie kept her in a shadow and yet now they Still overlook her lol. She's going to be a menace in s3 hot damn.

That moment with Javi I like the solemnity around Javi's butchering. I think that was handled alright, and Shauna was really going through it there. My personal thought is that this was (again) like killing Jackie for her, but we know that she cared about Javi quite a bit, too. Additionally, her calling forth Travis to take the first bite Definitely mirrored the ear eating/Shauna taking the first bite at the feast. I like the theme of that.

Misty doing it to Nat So, I do think that Lisa popped up a bit out of nowhere there. You're telling me that both her and Callie came across these women running in these massive woods on their own? Anyway, Nat's death here is a good contrast with the previous ep/her becoming queen in the 96 timeline. I appreciate it for that and for the fact that Misty is the one that stabbed her in the heart (basically). My hopes were for Misty to kill off Walter, but the implications it has for her character remain the same: she has killed someone she loved because she had to involve herself into something. This is the second time that such an act has led to the death of a friend for Misty, and both will leave deep scars. Will she learn from this?

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets spoilers #it was okay for a finale #left it at a cliffhanger #set some stakes and interesting future dynamics #yeah i think im fine with it #could've used more jackie tho! #like ugh can you imagine #adult shauna running from the rest during the hunt #her seeing jackie running beside her through the trees #*insert snarky ghost jackie comment* #shauna trips and then we get callie intervening #simple but couldve added something! #in any case these were most of its saving graces #can you tell that i liked the 96 timeline more?

[unproduciblesmackdown]

appreciating some real juxtaPosition in the contrast of [winston’s posture re: being across from rian] when being at adjacent desks for the first time in 5x05 vs their Relationship Definitely Hurtling Towards Something exchange in 5x07

#also i'm like near tears about it lmfao #i again paid attention to the [small Gesture turns into nervous fidgeting w/hands] also pictured in the 5x07 screenshot #and definitely got misty about it like you're killing me here #sure is also Relevant to think about the approach in 5x06 when they are sitting across from each other #where neither of them turns towards the other save with their heads a time or two and the mutual attempt at. some restraint is clear lol #but this is like Peak Juxtaposition here of the most Get Out Of My School Moment vs most I Look Sometimes; I Was Already Impressed Moment #aka winston trying to present Animosity in the former & all but directly convey ''yes i Like you =]'' in the latter #even if probably both times the underlying sentiments are clear enough to rian lol #just gonna lean back and prop the feet up as a tbt established display of Performing Confidence ft. maybe also issuing a challenge #which also just so happens to put more distance & a barrier between yourself & your crush & re: the latter so does crossing your arms.... #then cut to 5x07 with possible in vigilantrix veritas elements as we always say and oh i'll just pivot towards you and smile #and sit more upright then ever ft. just maybe leaning in a tiny bit and either way it's all certainly more open than 5x05 / 5x06's scenes at #their desks....well now i; the person posting this; am Just Looking....just absorbing some of these choices / details.... #winston billions #riawin #simply thinking about all this....

[nightshade-minho]

-The One-

Warnings: very very mild knifeplay, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), fingering, creampie, light navel play, tiny mention of blood, rituals, themes of witchcraft + demons, jealousy, sir kink, master kink, threesome, aftercare.

Felix × fem!Reader × Minho

Wc: 3k

Note: I stayed up all night writing this and was half-asleep so I apologize for any mistakes or incoherencies. Regardless, I’m quite proud of this fic hehe, and I’d love some feedback on it~

You could barely breathe. The feeling of his cock stretching you out as you sat on his lap, combined with the heady feeling of the knife's tip pressed against your skin was driving you insane with arousal.

"Such a pretty one you are...we don't usually get customers like you."

You scrunched your eyes shut, not wanting to make eye contact with him. His smirk, his golden eyes that gleamed with confidence...it would all make you even more nervous than you already were.

"Sir...p-please don't hurt me."

"Tsk. I won't, princess. Not yet." He shifted you on his lap, causing his tip to rub up against your sweet spot. You let out a soft moan as he did so, your eyes slowly opening and drifting down to the shiny steel pressed against your torso.

"Will it...will it hurt?"

He gently dragged the knife upwards, eyes fixed on you. He wasn't applying any pressure, and the blade itself wasn't very sharp...but it still sent tingles through you.

"Not really. If you're a good girl for us, it won't. The ritual is a very short one, and doesn't have many side effects."

"Okay...wait, us?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. My boss. He'll be here soon, don't worry. He's a busy man. I take care of the shop when he's not here."

"Oh...so you're like, his assistant?"

"Mmhm. You could say that. He doesn't pay me, though." He mutters, expression faltering for a second. The smirk slowly returned though, as he dragged the steel gently up between your breasts, pausing.

"Why...w-why do you work here, then?"

"He's family. My older brother,to be exact."

"O-oh..."

"Yup. In fact, enjoy my leniency while you can. I can assure you, my brother is a lot more..."

He sighed, poking the tip into your skin lightly, but not enough to draw blood.

"Sadistic."

You gulped as Felix suddenly started thrusting up into you, his hips gaining a newfound vigor. You groaned, throwing your head back as he hit your sweet spot again.

You never thought you'd end up like this...A few weeks ago, you were living your life like any other college student.

When winter break came along, you'd been more than excited to get back to your hometown...the place you'd grew up in. One of the first things you did was visit the woods, searching for the tree house you'd made when you were about 10 years old.

Of course, you hadn't expected to see a cottage where your tree house had formerly been. On hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea to knock.

You hadn't expected to see a cute boy open the door, either.

Felix, he said his name was.

The cottage wasn't a house after all...it was more of an eccentric little shop, the shelves lined with curious looking bottles and dusty books.

You'd definitely thought the man was cuckoo, especially when he started talking about witchcraft and rituals. He was undeniably hot, though...

One thing led to another and here you were a few days later, having sex with someone you barely knew. That someone also happened to talk an awful lot about demons and witchcraft. God, you were stupid to trust him.

"This ritual...what does it require, again? And there's absolutely no side effects?"

"Nope. All you want is revenge, correct? We can make that happen."

"Having sex with you is part of it, right?"

Felix laughed, taking his knife away and resting it on the table next to him. "Oh, you truly do hurt me. Here I was thinking you were having sex with me cause you wanted to." He adjusted himself in his chair, lifting you off his cock and turning you around.

He slowly eased you back down onto his length, groaning softly under his breath at your tightness.

"Look here. Intercourse with a virgin is stage one of the ritual, and semen also happens to be one of the ingredients." He said, pulling your back against his chest and lifting a finger, causing a dusty old book in the corner of the room to hover over.

You squinted at the page, the words registering itself in your brain.

"Wait...how did you know I'm a virgin?"

"It's glaringly obvious, doll."

You gritted your teeth, biting your lip as Felix let the book drop to the floor, his hands on your waist as he slowly started fucking up into you.

"Remember, you asked for this. You're the one who came here first. You gave me full consent to do this."

"I d-did."

"Mmhmm. Don't forget to tell Minho that. If he's not a corpse somewhere, that is...he usually isn't this late."

A shiver ran through you as Felix suddenly got up with you still on his cock, his fingers digging into your skin as he took you over to the window. He slid apart the heavy purple curtains with one hand.

"Ah...there he is."

You twisted your neck slightly. Eyes misty with arousal, you could barely make out the shadowy figure approaching. Felix's fingers on your chin forced you to face him again, his smile slightly unsettling.

"He's here. I'll remind you again. This was your choice."

"M-my choice..." You gulped as the door opened, the bells tinkling.

There was silence for a few minutes. Felix's form was blocking the figure in the shop. You made a sound of frustration as you craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of this mysterious man, despite the fear enveloping your heart.

"Hm. What do we have here? Felix, I've told you before. Don't bring your playthings into the shop."

Felix turned around, taking you to the counter and setting you on the edge of it, still inside you. The new angle finally let you make eye contact with the man.

Oh, fuck. Almost immediately, you wished you hadn't looked at him. Yes, Felix was scary and slightly unnerving...but this man's aura was a whole new shade of intimidating.

You tried your best to break eye contact, but you couldn't. His stare was mesmerizing, and you almost drooled.

A sharp thrust from Felix snapped you out of your haze.

"She isn't a plaything. She's been coming here for the past week...keeping me company. It gets lonely here when you leave on your little trips, you know."

Minho frowned as he set down the mysterious looking packages he'd been holding, leaning on the heavy oak table. His eyes fell on the open book. He lazily regarded the pages, sighing.

Despite his indifferent expression, when he spoke, his tone was menacing.

"Have you been showing this girl the texts? Felix, you know we're not supposed to fraternize with the mortals. I've let you copulate with some of them, but I've told you time and time again...magic and elements of the otherwordly realm are far too complex for their puny brains to comprehend."

Felix sighed, turning slightly to face his brother but not slowing down. He kept thrusting into you, a hand grasping your breast and fingers gliding over your nipple as he spoke.

"That's just it! This human here is different from the others. For one, once she got over her initial shock and surprise, she even started reading the rituals herself and helping me out around the shop! In fact, that's what we're doing right now, enacting the Interfectorem Inimicus Ritual. She has a silly little rival she wants to get rid of."

Minho sighed, his eyes coming up to meet yours again. You looked away meekly, making a small smirk appear on his features.

Cute.

He rarely found mortals attractive...but this one right here might have to be an exception. Besides, if what Felix said was true, she was special. Maybe she wasn't even a mortal after all...

Minho needed to know if that was true. And there was only one way to find out.

He stalked over calmly, tapping Felix's shoulder.

"Give her to me."

"What?!" Felix's look of confusion mirrored yours.

"You heard me." His gaze drifted slowly to you, a finger sneaking out to trace your jawline. You unknowingly leaned into his touch, shivering at the feeling of his cold fingers.

"Hmm now, kitten...why exactly were you snooping about in the sacred texts?" His gaze was stern as he locked your eyes with his.

"I wasn't s-snooping-"

"Did Lixie here give you permission?"

"I, well...no..." You hated the way his intense stare was making you blurt out the truth, cheeks flushed. "I was just curious, that's all. So I read one of the b-books when he wasn't looking."

"Curious." Minho let go of your chin, chuckling. "Haven't you heard? Curiosity killed the cat." His eyes turned darker. "Although when it comes to this kitty, it might just be something else that leads to her demise..."

You swallowed, a fresh wave of arousal shooting through you as Minho smiled, saccharine sweet.

He glared at Felix, making him let go of you reluctantly.

"I'm going to fuck you now, kitten. Would you like that?"

You looked up at him. There was just something about him...his intensity, his demeanor...combined with his sharp beauty...he had you whiny and needy, keening in just seconds.

"Yes, Master, want you...want you so bad!" You mewled, just as Felix pulled out of you.

"Good girl."

In seconds, he gathered you in his arms, taking you over to the burgundy sofa in the corner of the room. "Now, let's do this ritual the right way, shall we? Felix, light some candles."

"Listen, brother, I really don't think this is a good idea and-"

"Do as I say."

Felix sighed, nodding as he went to gather some candles from the shelf. As he lit each one, his heart shuddered.

The two of them knew something you didn't.

Felix and Minho shared a demonic father, but had different mothers. Felix's mother happened to be human, while Minho's definitely wasn't. It was why Felix was able to have intercourse with humans without rendering them completely insane.

Minho, on the other hand...didn't possess even an ounce of humanity. He was draconian, otherworldly...

Felix glanced back, sadness taking over his features as he watched you, entranced as you stared at him.

He was worried you wouldn't last the night.

Minho leaned down, inhaling. He loved the way the human interacted to his touches, however featherlight they may be. He ran the tip of his fingers over your chin, down between your breasts. His fingers continued their descent until they reached your navel, his lust growing as he dipped his finger in, prompting a soft whimper from you. He fingered your navel gently for a few seconds, before he went even lower...finally reaching your clit.

If you were indeed human, you wouldn't be able to handle him or his cock. If you weren't, though?

The implications of it drove Minho giddy with excitement. He'd never had the pleasure of playing with someone as responsive and adorable as you were. Maybe you could even be his queen when he ascends his father's throne...

He shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts. First, he had to make sure of your origins. Then, he'd let himself daydream.

His fingers slowly pushed into your already dripping pussy, an appreciative groan leaving his lips as your soaking walls hugged his digits tightly.

Felix finished with the candles, his own erection growing impossibly harder as the lewd noises your pussy was making filled the room.

He turned, making his way to the sofa and glaring at his brother. He already harbored quite a bit of resentment for the older man, and this only served to deepen his hatred. Why did he have to steal away everything that was his?

Minho pulled his fingers out with a pop, sucking on his digits as he looked over at Felix. Your eyes opened halfway, registering Minho's naked form with some surprise. When did he remove his clothes? Then again, you knew the two men in the room didn't obey the same worldly rules you did.

Minho's eyes drifted down to Felix's erection, tutting under his breath.

"You know what...you can use her mouth, if you like."

Felix grumbled. It was better than nothing, but then again...He didn't want his brother to fuck you at all. Till now, you'd proven to be different from the usual human...most mortals couldn't even see their shop. However, he still felt that slight unease that came with not wanting to see you hurt. He'd only known you for a week but...deep inside, he didn't want to lose you.

Felix led his cock to your lips, eyes searching your lidded ones for discomfort. When he found none, he slid his length past your throat slowly, making you moan.

Minho's thick tip was rubbing at your folds. You could only feel the sensation of his head dragging up and down your slit...but it was more than enough for you to realize that he was bigger than everyone you'd ever had sex with.

When he finally pushed into you, you saw stars in your eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming...so sudden and potent that you screamed, Felix's eyes widening in concern as he pulled out.

"Are you okay?

"Y-yeah! For fuck's sake, it feels so gooooooood-" You choked out, clenching tightly around Minho's huge cock, his thrusts unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. It was almost satanic, the way he plunged into you repeatedly, stretching you out to your absolute limit.

Minho gritted his teeth as he gripped your waist tightly, his head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck...ironic, but your pussy is heavenly, kitten..."

He moved you up and down his shaft, the feeling of your soft pussy opening up more and more with each stroke driving him crazed with lust. He'd never felt anything like this before.

"Felix, she's so fucking- shit....she's so fucking perfect-"

Felix frowned, sitting back as he watched. He couldn't help the envy from gripping his heart as he watched your pleasure-stricken face, your eyes rolling back in your head as Minho slid his girth deeper, hitting your sweet spot. He didn't want to stay any longer, but he couldn't help it. He really didn't want to leave you alone with his brother.

Minho drove into you faster as he felt his orgasm approaching, spurred on by the way you clenched tightly around him, clearly near your end as well.

"Kitten? 'M going to cum...going to fill your little pussy up..."

You whined, arching your back. "Can I cum, Master?"

He shook his head, growling as he rubbed your clit. "You'll cum when I tell you to."

Minho turned to the side as he kept abusing your pussy, his eyes landing on Felix...chuckling at his hand wrapped around his cock.

"Couldn't help yourself, could you?"

Felix let out a moan as he continued jerking himself off, standing up. He didn't care anymore...you looked so perfect like this, completely naked and at their mercy, mouth wide open and ready for him to use.

He came closer and shoved his cock down your throat roughly, not giving you time to adjust as he started fucking into you, his high close. You choked, caught off guard, but quickly got over it. Determined to be a good girl for them, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on Felix's cock desperately, even as you tried to stave off your orgasm.

His length twitched in your mouth, and before you knew it, you felt warm cum spurting down your throat. Felix groaned, pulling out slowly.

"Felix, now. Get my blade and the book."

"Wait, what?"

"She's the one. I can tell. Quick. We need to get her blood at the exact time she hits her high, or I won't be able to complete my ritual."

"Wait- no! This is Y/n's ritual, the one for her rival. It's lower magic. The one you want to do...Come on, brother! You have to think before making a decision like this, you can't just make her your bride...we have to get Y/n's permission, too-"

Minho growled, his eyes flashing red as he glared at Felix. "I'm not performing a wedding ritual or anything, brother. I'm simply preserving her essence-"

Felix shook his head. His heart was thudding- he'd figured it out too, just like his brother had. You weren't mortal. You were special...and that meant Minho wanted to find out what exactly you were.

He felt sick as he thought of you getting married to his brother. No. You belonged here on Earth, with your family and your friends-

With him.

Before he could react, Minho's hand had materialized the exact knife he wanted.

Encrusted with rubies and made of demonic steel, the blade was far sharper than the one Felix had been teasing you with before.

Minho let go of your waist to grab your hand, bringing it up to his face. His hips continued their assault, making you whine and whimper.

Half the things they said were making no sense, and you were scared and yet...aroused, at the same time. You didn't know what was going on, but you wanted to listen to the man above you. You wanted to do everything he said, wanted to be his little pet...wanted to be his. Your brain felt like it was slowly getting rid of all rationality, the feeling of his cock making you whine louder.

"Kitten...I'm going to make a tiny little cut, right here on your finger. Is that okay?"

You nodded desperately, and Minho smiled at you in approval.

"Cum."

You finally let go, the pleasure washing over you in a tidal wave as you shook, convulsing with electricity as Minho drove the blade into the tip of your finger just enough to let out a few drops of blood.

Felix reluctantly conjured up an empty potion vial, capturing the drop with ease.

Minho lifted your finger to his mouth, sucking on the digit and running his tongue over the wound repeatedly. The metallic taste of your blood was the final push he needed to cum, thrusting deeper as he spilled himself into you.

When he let go of your finger, all the pain had disappeared. You noticed your finger was healed...the skin just as clean and soft as it was before.

You whined as he pulled out, conjuring another vial to gather some of your mixed fluids that was leaking out from between your thighs. He yawned as he handed it to Felix, who corked it with a frown on his face, setting it next to the vial with your blood in it. He knew what Minho wanted to do...he wanted to perform a ritual with the vials, wanted to make sure you were the one for him. It wasn't a wedding ritual by any means...but it was a pre-requisite, and the thought saddened Felix. Maybe his feelings for you were deeper than he'd thought.

Slowly, Minho gathered you into his arms, patting your hair gently and kissing your forehead.

"You were a good kitten, Y/n. How are you feeling?"

"I'm f-feeling okay..."

Minho made a face of delight at Felix. "She can still talk and formulate sentences!" He mouthed, prompting a half-hearted smile from his brother.

"D'you want to cuddle?"

You pouted. "Mmhmm! But..I want Lix to come cuddle too."

Felix looked up at that, his eyes widening.

You still wanted him?

Minho met his eyes, giving him a small smile. "Sure, baby. Lix can come cuddle as well."

You grinned, looking over at Felix and making grabby hands. Giggling, the boy quickly dropped onto the couch, wrapping his arms around your torso and humming in content.

"You know..I don't mind sharing her." Minho whispered, his fingers still stroking your hair. "Really?" Felix asked, looking down at you.

"If she wants to be shared, that is."

"I don't mind!" You chirped. "Life is boring here, anyway. Where did you guys say you lived again?"

The two men shared a look.

Minho sighed as he stroked your hair. "I can't wait to introduce you to our dad."

"Your dad?"

"Yep! Don't worry, he's nice. And I think he'd like you."

You frowned slowly as you remembered something Felix had told you. Snippets of their conversation flashed through your brain as your stomach filled with something akin to dread and anticipation.

"Who did you say your dad was, again?"

"Oh, what? Ah, that doesn't really matter. He's just the king of the Underworld."

#skzsmutnet #felix smut #minho smut #lee know smut #yongbok smut #felix angst #felix fluff #minho fluff #skz smut #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst

[ripperdaddy]

vik's moment

Johnny sits on the ledge and watches your eyes drift down to the gun by your side as you clutch the omega blocker and psuedoendotrizine tightly in your hand. You both sit and relish in the moment, feeling the cool Night City breeze waft against your skin.

Should I just put this all to rest?

You can feel your left hand twitch as you want to reach for the gun, looking up at Johnny, who's attention is towards the door.

Johnny: Ah, okay. Gotta delta, V.

V: Johnny! Hey, you dick! Wait--

Vik: Hey, V.

V: Vik, w-what are you doing here?

Vik: Am I talking to you or?

It’s me. Just me. And.. it will be from now on.

I just wanted to talk to you before you make your decision.

Whatever you gotta say, Vik, just say it. It looks like there's something you really want to tell me if you managed to make your way up here. Which is pretty strange considering you basically kicking me out about an hour ago. Seems like you had enough of me, by the looks of it.

I know, I'm sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be so closed off and push you away. Also had too much coffee.

V: Well, let's hear it, then.

Vik: I just wanted to tell you that I—uh, well. You know.

V: I don’t know actually.

Vik: I'm not good at shit like this, V. I don't know how to project my emotions. Must have something t'do with what Misty said. Sensed that I'm having trouble awakening my chakra.

V: Having trouble doing what with your what?

Vik: She says they're like discs of energy. They have to constantly spin, stay open and aligned. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what the hell she’s even talking about. When my book's open and have slow days, she gets me to do yoga and meditate. Got me sitting on the floor listening to her chant and recite some weird spells.

V: Spells?

Vik: Who knows, could be spells. Typically consists of words I've never even heard before.

V: Heh, sounds like Misty's rubbing off on you. Didn’t take you for a spiritual kind of guy.

Vik: Never in a million years would I find myself sitting in the middle of the floor trying to “find peace” while she burns sage in the back.

V: You gotta admit, she does keep you grounded. I doubt you could manage without her.

Vik: You're right. It’s a balance and we need each other. I know she's still hurt about Jackie. Hell, I am too.

V: We all are. He was kind of the glue that had bounded us all together.

Vik: Heh, I still remember that day he brought you in for the first time. Texted me about his new friend V, telling me how excited he was that he met you. With your support, he can finally start working his way up to the major leagues, he always called it. Saw a lot in you two, since day one.

V: Really?

Vik: I've seen people come and go, for years and years, V. You come across all kinds of mercs trying to make it big in this city. How could you not when you've got people like that ol' Silverhand pal of yours as the benchmark of legendary in the city. Someone comes in for an upgrade and a day later you hear about them getting flatlined by Maelstrom. You’re probably one the few, if not the only one who actually manages to return. Even if it isn’t in one piece.

V: I appreciate how you still manage to help me no matter how many times I’ve fucked up and almost gotten myself killed.

Vik: And I appreciate that you always think of me first.

V: I only go to the best, Vik.

Vik: Ahh, thought I was until, well.. y'know. You'd think the best ripperdoc in the city would be able to fix.. anything.

V: You don't have to feel like you're at all to blame or even helpless. There's only so much you can do. This relic.. it's not right and I don't think I would expect anyone to fix it at this point. But, I don't think you came up here to tell me the same thing you told me downstairs.

Vik: V, I just.. look. I wanted to thank you for believing in me all this time. For being the first person you always thought of when you needed help. This is probably isn't what you'd expect to hear from someone like me, but, heh—jeez, thanks for bearing with me, kid. Well, I just wanted to say that.. I love you, V. I love and care about you, a lot. It hurts me to see you in this position, but I know you’re a smart girl with one hell of a head on her shoulders. You know what’s best and I know everything’ll work out for you in the end. But whatever you decide, just know that no matter where you go from here on out, you got this old man waiting for you here in Night City.

V: You waited all this time to tell me you love me?

Yeah, heh.. thought now’s a good time as any.

Vik: Probably the last thing you wanted to hear, anyway. You’re this young, beautiful girl who’s probably got half of the city kissing the ground you walk on. Heh, look at me, got myself looking like a dumbass now.

V: Don’t say that. Vik, I.. I love you, too. A lot, actually. Hate to admit that I’m not much for displaying emotions either, but you’re right. Now definitely seems like the right time to.

Vik: Thanks, V.

V: Thank you, Vik.

#cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vector #v/vik #I will ship them forever. harder better faster stronger than ever before #cyberpunk mods

[neo-culture-mafia]

나는 작별 인사를하러왔다 (filler)

It was hell and I needed a beacon of light guiding me to heaven.

“We’re so close, guys.” Jisung said, already knowing it wasn’t a good use. He’s scared like most of us. Mark is spaced out and I could tell it was out of guilt. He couldn’t do this anymore.

Jaemin’s hands were gripped onto my thighs as he carried me on his back. “Another hour and we will be there.” Jisung was reassuring everyone. 1 hour to what? Being sent back in the other direction?

~~~~~

Ringing the buzzer seemed like an electric shock that tried to be lethal; yet wasn’t quite strong enough. My hand tingled as Jaemin moved back to the small group with me still on his back.

The suspense was killing us more than our exhaustion. Our mouths were dry and pruned from the lack of water and our minds were aching with the constant thoughts running through our heads.

“Why isn’t anyone coming out?” Jisung bounced a little, staring through the bars to the estate’s front doors. “Calm down. It’s okay-” I was cut off by the front door opening to what seemed like the devil himself: Lee Taeyong.

He was followed by Johnny, Taeil, and Doyoung. They traveled in a pack as if they were preying on a hurt animal. Taeyong approached after taking his good old time walking down the driveway. He started slow clapping as he approached.

“A...A+ for effort. I have to give you that.” Taeyong slithered to the barred gate and stared at the raggedy looking kids who had shown up. “Tae-” I was cut off with the whip of wicked reality that shattered my mindset...but mostly...my heart.

“Who are you, again?” He asked and my eyes automatically became misty. Not with sadness -- don’t get me wrong...with rage. “Because you definitely look like someone I knew...and trusted.” He spoke bitterly. “You do too.” He pointed into the group to Mark. “And the rest of you just look misguided.” He sobbed at the rest of the dirty looking boys.

Johnny couldn’t meet my eyes. Neither could Doyoung or Taeil.

“Now I will reward some of your efforts.” Taeyong said and Jisung started shaking. He was baiting everyone on but I already knew what he was about to do.

“All of those who were misguided...come back...eat...sleep...study...train...be family.” Taeyong said and the boys looked at each other. “For those who decided to misguide them...well your duty was served when it was, I suppose.” He said. “Neve-” Jaemin began to say but my hand slapped onto his mouth.

Taeyong cocked his eyebrow at the awaiting group. “Wipe slate clean...never even happened.” Taeyong smiled, bringing comfort to those not affected. Shattering the ones who could barely stand anymore -- silent torture.

It was silent before Mark spoke up. “Go.” Was all he said and the boys whipped around to their leader -- their rock. “What?” Renjun choked. “Go. Get your lives back.” He said motioning towards Taeyong and the warm looking house behind him.

“But...we need yo-” Chenle began tearing up and grabbing onto Mark.

“No. Chenle.” He said sternly, making the boy retreat a couple of steps. “You don’t. You never needed me in the first place.” Mark said and his voice got hoarse as his chest started rising and falling more quickly.

“I’m...I’m the one who got you in this mess...and it needs...needs to be fixed.” Mark continued, his knuckled cracking as his fists balled at the sides. “So my last order as your boss: Go. Go home.” He said and my chest dropped...he admitted to defeat so easily.

“Mar-” Jaemin tried fighting his real boss. “No. Go...before I fuck up your lives even more.” Mark said and distanced himself farther away from the group. They all turned toward Taeyong; scared and confused. “Put her down...and your rooms are awaiting you.” He lured them in. “Now.” Mark barked and Jaemin faltered and gripped my thighs one last time.

“It’s okay.” I whispered. “Just let go.” I said and he obediently dropped his hands. I fumbled myself into the cold concrete of the sidewalk. My legs cracking a little on the way down. Jaemin wanted to turn around and help but I pushed him away.

“Go. You’re so close.” I said slapping his hand away.

He looked into my eyes with his and I could tell he was scared. “Jaemin.” I began and a tear cascaded down his face. “I’m scared.” He confessed quickly and looked to me for comfort...but I had none to give. “It’s okay, Jae.” I said rubbing his tear away and he just froze.

“Go.” I said again and he stood up. Tae opened the gate to the boys who were so close to freedom. Jaemin was the last to catch up to his friends only a few feet away.

He guiltily looked back at Mark who stood far away from the gate with his eyes trained to the floor. “I’m sorry.” Was all he said and turned his back to walk through the metal gate to freedom.

“Glad to have you back.” Taeyong patted Jaemin on the back as they were all lead away by Taeil.

I watched enviously as the boys got to walk in the lit and warmed house. “Where’s Hyuck?” Taeyong inquired and I looked up to him. “...” “Cat got your tongue?” He asked and I grit my teeth.

I slowly rolled over on my stomach and put my self in a push-up position. I slowly and painfully got myself to stand. I made one walk and I felt warm liquid ooze out of me and paint the cement below me. I got one step, then another, and another.

With each step, my rage overflowed a little bit more and more. Till I was barreling myself towards the stupid gate keeping me from happiness. I waddled and shook the gate. “You fucking bastard.” I bellowed and some looked on in shock. They’ve never seen my rage get so dark.

“You stupid, no-good, dumb, terrible, evil-” My shaking of the gate was cut off by me falling to the ground. We all saw as Doyoung and Johnny jumped into action to come grab me, but remembered their places.

“I. Hate. You.” I seethed and I could see pity in Tae’s eyes.

“I tried. I tried to bring back what you said was most important...family.” I said and he just looked down to me. I could tell I was breaking through his barrier and was getting into his mind.

“And you turn away me and Mark?” I asked and he just stood their silently.

“He had been there for you the most, Taeyong. And you know that more than everyone. Who the fuck was there when you almost died from a warehouse explosion? Mark! Who was there when you tried to take your own life because you felt as if you weren’t good enough? Mark was! Who was the person you said you would die for any day? Mark.” I screamed and Mark picked me up.

“No. This isn’t fair.” I screamed and thrashed around in his arms. “We came this far! Where the fuck are we supposed to go?!” I yelled for someone to answer.

“Back to Hyuck? Where we left him because one of you closed the tunnel doors?!” I said and Taeyong looked down to the ground as Mark tried to walk me down to the street and off the sidewalk.

“Where me and Hyuck almost died because you only thought of yourselves?!” I continued and Mark was getting emotional at the on-going nightmare. I could make out Taeyong rubbing his eyes, silently hoping I made him cry.

“Goodbye...Taeyong.” I called and he immediately turned away, walking up the driveway and into the house swiftly.

~~~~~~~

“Please put me down.” I whispered to Mark and he acted as if he didn’t hear me. “You’ve been walking for an hour,” I said and he just kept walking.

His arms were around my torso and it was almost as if he was a tree and I was a koala. “Pleas-” “I need this.” He mumbled and didn’t make an effort to put in any expression or feeling.

I ducked my head into his shoulder, a rubbed his neck a little. “You’re all I have left...I need this.” He confessed and I just melted into him more.

I could tell what he meant. He needed to feel needed, wanted, or in control of someone...something.

He needed a purpose...even if it was just to get us a block farther away from that house of broken dreams and ongoing nightmares.

The ongoing traffic next to us never stopped as he walked for another hour...and another after that.

He didn't put me down until I slipped from his grasp. The ground had stuff on it and he slipped backwards, and onto his back, me falling directly on top of him with a grown sounding beneath me.

He didn't get up either ... He just laid there. "...Mark..." I called softly. My knees were burning as I lifted off of them to stand. "y/n...why are you even trying?" He called out softly.

The gross night crawlers around us going on with their usual lives. "Mark. We're not doing this here...we need to get back to Hyuck." I said and started pulling at his hands gently. My legs began to what felt like shatter as he pulled me down and onto him. "What's the point?" He asked again and I was hurt.

I just looked up to him whose eyes were still trained straight ahead into the night sky, barely being granted from the visual obstruction of the bridge above us. "...no..." I spoke in a hushed whisper. "We need to go back." I shook my head, getting back up slowly but surely.

"Just go without me...I'll only slow you down." He bitterly said, rolling onto his side to face the street of traffic. "Mark. You're the one with the working pair of legs." I bitterly said and and kicked his back lightly but I ended up toppling to the ground in agony and a loud scream.

"y/n!" He quickly scrambled to his knees and held a hand over my mouth. "We need...we need to get back." I gripped his collar and pulled him closer. "We need to get back. Find Hyuck. Fix our legs. And regain ourselves." I said with my teeth gritt and he must've understood very well from the way he stood up and immediately grabbed my legs and picked me up -- our journey continued down this damn street where the street lights flickered and no one dare spoke to one another.

It was comforting

[dotshiiki]

CoL, chpt 2

Okay, so I meant to post this yesterday but it took longer than I expected to get the content page and first chapter up and of course this HAS to be the week where I also have to pack for an upcoming trip and rehearse a presentation for said trip AND three meetings ... But I’ve got my CoL files on my USB stick now so I’ll duck in at lunch time and post another chapter then so I can get up to three today! Thanks to all of you who have checked this out! And feel free to send me an ask any time, I love hearing from readers! :)

II: NICO

Nico was used to the Underworld.

The first time he had entered it had been from the Labyrinth, while running from Camp Half-Blood after his sister Bianca had died. The dark caverns and twisting tunnels had seemed scary to him at the time, but he'd since grown accustomed to navigating his way around them. He knew what paths to take—and more importantly, which to avoid. Even as the son of Hades, there were places in the Underworld where he wasn't meant to go. He'd learned that the hard way.

Over time, he'd also learned of the various entrances from the mortal world: Charon's passage in Los Angeles, Orpheus's door in New York's Central Park, the roving Doors of Death that Thanatos used as his personal gateway. Nico didn't need any of them now, though. Shadow travel was convenient that way. He simply melted into darkness and was transported like a speeding bullet through cold, empty space until he popped out at his destination.

Just one of the perks of being a child of the Underworld.

The only problem was, hitting a precise location in the Underworld was always a tricky business. Although Nico could manage a shadow-jump into the Underworld from anywhere in the upper world, he couldn't always pinpoint where he'd end up when he arrived.

This time, he found himself on the banks of the River Styx. He could hear the deep baritone of Charon the ferryman drifting along upriver, humming that god-awful easy listening music he favoured. The barge was approaching, probably with a full load of newly-dead souls. Nico could feel their presence closing in, clamouring for attention. The recently-deceased tended to be like that: terrified and hungry for reassurance, still clinging to the identities they had held in life. If he listened hard, Nico could sense each one of them—the octogenarian who had passed away in his sleep, the car crash victim whose life support had been turned off, the teenager who had ingested a full bottle of Valium, and many others.

Percy wasn't among them—yet, Nico reminded himself. He turned away from the river and made his way up the shore of black sand, climbing the familiar winding path to the gates of Erebus. The checkpoints were running smoothly today, with the regular lanes moving along almost as quickly as the EZ Death line that went straight to Asphodel. Cerberus gave Nico a hopeful look when he passed through, but Nico shook his head at the enormous, three-headed Rottweiler.

'Not today, old friend,' he said. 'I'm in a hurry.'

He sped up through the Fields of Asphodel, which was easy since the vacuous, chittering spirits there parted before him as always. He usually took the path straight to his father's palace on the south-eastern edge, but this time he turned off towards the left, cutting a trail between the Fields of Punishment and the gated community of Elysium.

The first time he'd ever visited the River Lethe, he'd trudged all the way through the Fields of Punishment to where it was a rushing river gorge cutting through the upper rim of his father's kingdom. Fortunately, he knew enough of the Underworld geography now that he could take a more direct route to where the Lethe snaked down past the Cave of Hypnos to flow more sluggishly across the outskirts of Elysium. It would probably have been a nicer stroll through Elysium to get here, but Nico didn't have time to submit to the stringent security checks at the gates. Even the son of Hades was subject to a thorough frisking at the gates of the most secure community in the Underworld.

Near the river's source in the volcanic mountains, the Lethe was a cascade of violent black water bubbling up from Tartarus, but here on the lower marshes, its colour lightened considerably to a dull grey. Outside the eastern gate of Elysium, a group of souls formed a line along the river to get their drink before reincarnation. One by one they knelt on the river bank and plunged their heads into the lazy river. When they emerged, their ghostly faces looked perfectly serene. The cleansed spirits flickered in the dim light of the Underworld caverns and then disappeared, presumably sent to be reborn into their new mortal lives.

Nico picked a spot a short way upriver from the queueing souls. He approached the banks and then he realised the snag in his plan. He had no jug or goblet or canister with him. In his haste to get here, he had completely forgotten about how he was going to transport the stuff back to the mortal world.

He let out a groan. It seemed he would have to visit his father's palace after all. Did his father even have containers in his palace? Nico wasn't sure. For obvious reasons, he never actually ate or drank anything when he visited.

Nico was about to turn and follow the path back to the palace when a voice hailed him.

'Di Angelo!'

He spun around. A girl with short, spiky black hair and a glowing silver bow slung over her back was walking up to him. There was a delicate silver circlet on her head that clashed badly with the rest of her outfit: a leather jacket adorned with rock band buttons, frayed black jeans, heavy boots, and a black t-shirt with the outline of a deer in the centre. She looked around his age—fifteen or sixteen—but Nico knew she was in fact much older than that. Thalia, the daughter of Zeus, had been that age when he'd first met her five years ago.

In her hands, she carried a bronze stamnos—a squat, circular Greek jar with two stubby handles high up on its sides. It was about half a foot in diameter and just as tall.

'Needing one of these?' said Thalia.

'What are you doing here?'

Thalia raised an eyebrow. 'Annabeth sent an Iris-message. I came to help.'

Nico scowled. 'I don't need help,' he muttered, even though her appearance with the stamnos was fortuitous. He had nothing specifically against Thalia—he didn't even know her all that well—but she led the Hunters of Artemis. He still found it hard not to hold a grudge against the band of immortal girls who had stolen his sister from him and then gotten her killed.

Yeah, okay, so it had been five years ago. But he was a son of Hades. Bearing grudges was his birthright.

'Aren't you forbidden to help boys, anyway?'

Thalia set the stamnos on the bank. 'Percy's a special case,' she admitted. 'Even Artemis has a soft spot for him. And I can see just how much help you don’t need,' she added dryly. 'I'm sure your bare hands would have been the perfect vessel to bring back some liquid Lethe. Super plan, down to the part where you'd definitely remember where you wanted to bring it.'

Nico ignored her sarcasm. 'How did you get here anyway?'

'You think you're the only one who knows about the door in Central Park? And I've been to the Underworld before, you know. It's not even my first time at the Lethe.'

Nico had almost forgotten that Thalia had been with him and Percy on that quest. They'd fought a Titan several miles upriver from this spot and ended up wiping his memories in the Lethe.

Maybe Thalia was thinking about that, too, because she asked, quietly, 'Are you sure about this, Nico?'

'No,' he admitted. 'But it's the only answer I have.'

'Well, let's get ourselves some Lethe water, then.'

Thalia took one handle of the stamnos and motioned for Nico to take the other. Nico was a bit disgruntled at how bossy she was, but it also reminded him slightly of Bianca. Together, they picked up the stamnos and tilted it to scoop up some river water.

'Just what do the two of you think you're doing?'

Nico and Thalia almost dropped the stamnos. They staggered back from the river bank as the ghostly form of a svelte young woman rose out of the water and hovered inches above its surface.

Nico thought at first she was an Underworld soul, one of the group from Elysium heading for rebirth, but she grew more solid as she surveyed them with her arms crossed. Her skin was milky white, which made her look like a marble statue not unlike the sculptures that sprung up every ten feet along the main avenue of New Rome. Except that the contours of her body remained undefined, as if she hadn't finished forming from smoke. Her black dress rippled like waves were moving across its folds. Dark, misty images flashed across the fabric and were absorbed into the creases. Somehow, Nico knew they were all memories, millions of them submerging into the water.

'You're—'

'The goddess Lethe, of course,' she said, looking put out. 'You're taking my waters and you don't even think to ask?'

'We didn't think—' Thalia stammered. 'I mean, we didn't know you—'

'Everyone forgets about me!' Lethe pouted. 'Just because I'm not as fiery as Phlegethon, or as whiny as Cocytus. Is that why? I'm just as powerful as them! More, even—none of them have the power to cleanse the mind of everything.'

'Um, maybe it's because you're the river of forgetfulness,' Thalia ventured. 'That might be why people—er—forget.'

Lethe nodded. 'I am, aren't I?' She trailed the hazy edge of her dress along the water's surface. When she looked up again, her brow was furrowed. 'What was I saying again?'

'You were giving us some water,' Nico said quickly.

Lethe stared at the stamnos. 'Was I?'

'Sure you were!' Thalia said. 'We're just going to get it and be on our way…'

'I don't know,' said Lethe. 'That's high irregular. In fact, I think drinks have to be consumed in-house. I don't do to-go. At least,' she pondered this for a while, 'I don't think I do?'

'Oh, but it'd be great for business,' Thalia said. 'I mean, all the best restaurants have take-away. How else would you make sure people remember you if they don't get to try your products?'

Lethe tapped her chin. 'It's true, I hardly get up to the mortal world. Acheron totally has a monopoly on those streams…and really, I am more powerful, you know. What's Acheron got? Only pain. That's so overdone. Tell me, what other rivers have the power to erase everything? To cleanse the mind and soul completely? Pain, suffering, despair—bah! I can erase all of that!'

Nico leaned forward eagerly. 'Can you heal the mind, then? I mean, if your waters can take away pain and suffering…'

'Of course! What bit of cleansing the mind don't you understand?'

Nico looked at Thalia. This seemed like confirmation that they had hit on the right solution. All they needed now was to actually get the water.

'Wait.' Lethe looked at Nico suspiciously. 'You've been here before, haven't you? You've tried the Lethe treatment?'

'Um, sort of,' Thalia said. 'We've been here. But you didn't appear to us. And we definitely didn't touch the water.'

'Well, maybe not you,' Lethe said. 'But you.' She looked directly at Nico and frowned. 'Ugh, why can't I remember?' She stamped her foot. Nico and Thalia had to jump back to avoid being splashed. 'Hmph. Well, maybe I can't remember, but I can feel it.' She sniffed at Nico. 'You have my mark. The Curse of Lethe.'

'Nico, what's she talking about?'

'It was…before,' Nico muttered. 'Before the Lotus Casino. My father had Bianca and me dunked in the Lethe after our mom died.'

Thalia looked confused. 'But Bianca…she remembered stuff—'

Lethe interrupted. 'I knew it! Though I suppose if you only got dunked…it's not as effective if you don't actually drink, you know. Oh, the memory loss is powerful, of course, but the mind isn't cleaned out. The memories aren't actually dissolved. They can come back, given the right…well, prodding, I suppose.' Lethe scratched her head. 'Hmm. Why am I telling you this again?'

The conversation was making Nico's head spin a little. 'Never mind why. You were saying—it's different if you drink?'

'Well, yes. Souls have to drink. That's the rule—no drink, no rebirth. Can't have people bringing any part of their old lives with them, after all. Drinking cleanses everything: mind and soul. Memories aren't just in the mind, after all. The most important ones, they live in the soul. And I have the power to absorb that—dissolve the core of someone's identity.'

'Is it all in the water, then?' Thalia asked, looking into the murky depths of the river with interest. 'Is that how you get it back?'

Lethe threw her an irritated glance. 'Haven't you been listening, girl? If you drink, there's no getting them back. My waters flow all the way to Tartarus, and beyond that, into the depths of Chaos. That's where everything that is lost goes, in the end. And good luck retrieving anything from that pit.'

'But if you don't drink—say, you just…took a dip,' Nico pressed.

'Ah, like you did, I suppose? You'll still lose your memories. But like I said…hm, or did I? Anyway, you'd forget everything, but your soul would be intact. You could restore your memories, but it's extremely hard.'

'But not impossible,' Thalia said, looking relieved. 'That's great.'

'Not if he has to drink the water to be cured,' Nico reminded her.

'So…what was it you wanted again? Are you after getting your memory back? There's someone else who does that…starts with an "M"…' Lethe rolled her eyes Olympus-ward and stamped her foot again. 'Ugh, why can't I remember?'

'Mnemosyne?' Thalia supplied.

'Maybe. Why do you ask, anyway?'

This conversation was going round in circles. Nico cut in. 'Look, we just need to fill this jar so we can save a life. That okay with you?'

Lethe shrugged. 'Why didn't you say so in the first place?'

She held out her hands for the stamnos. Thalia looked like she was trying not to roll her eyes as they hefted the jar into Lethe's arms.

The murky grey water turned milky white when Lethe scooped it up. She set the filled stamnos down on the river bank. Thalia produced a lid from her pocket and capped it. Nico plucked a leaf from a random plant and carefully wiped off the stray droplets rolling down the side of the jar.

'Easy peasy,' Lethe said. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to…hm, I've forgotten.'

Nico and Thalia didn't wait for her to continue. Lifting the stamnos between them, they hurried off before Lethe could start questioning them again.

'Thanks for the jar,' Nico said when they reached the main path, which was lined with towering oaks that cast long shadows across the ground. One thing about the Underworld—there was never a shortage of shadows. 'I'm going to shadow travel back, so—'

'Can you take me along?' Thalia asked.

Nico had kind of imagined Thalia would leave the same way she'd come, probably going back to New York or wherever the Hunters were right now. He didn't really know what the rules were with them. He always avoided anything to do with the whole group as much as possible.

But Thalia was Percy's friend, too.

'Hold the jar,' he told her. 'Make sure that lid's really tight.'

He took her arm and they slipped into darkness.

OoOoO

Nico stumbled when he landed himself and Thalia back in the infirmary of Camp Jupiter. The stamnos landed on the ground with a loud thud, but fortunately Thalia's grip on the lid was firm. The liquid Lethe stayed safely inside.

'Huh—what—I'm awake, sir!' Clovis, who must have been snoozing again, leapt out of his chair and smacked his head against the elbow of a tall, broad-shouldered Chinese dude.

In the time Nico had been gone, two more demigods had joined the worried circle around Percy, making the infirmary seem a lot more crowded. Or maybe it was just that one of them was Frank Zhang, the bulky Praetor of the Twelfth Legion, who was big enough for two people.

The other was Nico's sister Hazel, who must have sorted out the shape-shifting demon horse that Annabeth had handed off to them. She and Frank were holding hands—hers was so tiny, it disappeared completely in his grasp.

Thalia went straight to Annabeth and hugged her tightly. Annabeth returned the hug in a distracted sort of way. She had been sitting by Percy's bedside with a book open in her lap, gently stroking his hair. There were tear streaks on her cheeks that she hadn't bothered to wipe off. Nico wasn't sure she was even aware of them.

Will caught Nico's eye and mouthed, Gatorade.

I'm fine, Nico mouthed back, although his legs felt a little shaky after his second shadow travel.

Will gave him a stern look and jerked his head towards a side table where he'd already laid out the sports drink.

Nico rolled his eyes, but a secret part of him sort of enjoyed Will's fussing. Not that he'd ever admit it.

At least his boyfriend wasn't being obtrusive about it. Nico drank the Gatorade and felt the energy trickle back into his limbs.

'How does this go, then?' Hazel asked. She eyed the stamnos warily, as if it were another demon horse that might change shape and start spewing its contents at them. 'He has to drink it?'

Thalia looked at Annabeth sadly. 'The healing power comes from drinking. But the memory loss is irreversible.'

'Actually,' Will gestured at the book on Annabeth's lap, 'we were doing some research while you guys were gone.'

Annabeth held up the book and nodded. 'I asked Reyna and she found me this from the Senate library. Turns out the Lethe has been used in potions before: the nepenthe.'

'The drug of forgetfulness,' Will translated. 'Helen of Troy gave it to Odysseus's son to ease his suffering. We just need to add a drop of Lethe to a cup of nectar.'

Hazel looked at them dubiously. 'How is that different? It's still the Lethe. Does diluting it even help?'

'And will it be strong enough?' Frank added. 'I mean, that's a pretty big nectar to Lethe ratio. How much Lethe does he actually have to ingest? There's probably a limit to how much nectar he can take, right?'

'I don't know,' said Annabeth. 'But the records mention that the drinkers had temporary memory loss after drinking. We thought…well, we hoped it would at least give him a chance.'

'A chance is better than nothing,' Thalia said firmly.

Will nodded. 'I think our best shot is to start with the base recipe and monitor him. I can slowly up the concentration of Lethe if it doesn't seem to be working.'

'Can he even drink? Or do you have to, like, IV-it into him?' Frank asked.

They all looked at Percy's comatose form. Will frowned and scratched his head.

'IV is probably the way to go,' he admitted. 'Do you guys have anything for that set up?'

Frank got to his feet. 'The university will have something. I'll go.'

'Hurry back,' Will warned. 'I feel…well, I don't think he has much time.' He gave Nico a significant look.

Nico knew what he meant. He'd always been able to sense when death was imminent, and he could feel that aura thickening around Percy, a cloying layer of smog that was almost tangible. Soon it would start to vibrate with the buzz that alerted the god of death that there was a soul to be collected. Nico didn't think Will had the same ability, but he was probably getting a corresponding message through his healer senses.

Hazel put her hand on Frank's arm. 'Let me go, then,' she said. 'I'll be faster.'

Nico raised an eyebrow when he realised what she was intending to do. 'Are you sure? I could—'

Will shot him a look that said don't even think about it.

'I've practised a couple of times,' Hazel said. 'Besides, it's just across the Field of Mars.'

She took a deep breath and slipped into the shadow of the infirmary door. Watching his sister disappear was disconcerting. Did Nico look like that too when he shadow-travelled—just melting into nothingness? No wonder Will always worried about him.

Annabeth made a strangled noise like a half-stifled sob and took Percy's hand in hers. Thalia patted her on the back.

'It'll be okay,' she said. 'We'll get him back and then you can kill him.'

Annabeth's sob turned into a slightly hysterical laugh. She squared her shoulders and looked at the stamnos. 'We should—we should brew the nepenthe.'

Will was already on it, pulling nectar from the cupboards and carefully measuring out a cup. He brought out a plastic dropper and hesitated. 'We'll need to add a drop of Lethe for now, but someone's going to have to add more at intervals.'

Annabeth uncovered the stamnos. Although her face was resolute, her expression carefully controlled, her hands were shaking so badly Nico thought for sure she would just end up spilling liquid Lethe all over herself.

Clovis, who had surprisingly not dozed off again, grabbed her wrist.

'I'll do it. I'm more familiar with the stuff than all of you. Plus…well, I spend most of my time in dreamland, anyway.' He shrugged. 'There's not much for me to forget.'

Clovis dipped the dropper into the stamnos and came up with it full of milky Lethe. With a steady hand, he added precisely one drop to the cup of nectar. The golden liquid barely changed shade. Nico thought it looked a little paler, but only just.

Hazel sprung out of the shadow of the stamnos right between Will and Clovis. The latter jumped and nearly knocked the whole jug over.

'Geez, just startle us into spilling mind-wiping water everywhere, why don't you?' Thalia sniped.

'Sorry!' Hazel gasped. She held out a rectangular kit to Will, who took it and began assembling the IV bag and needles inside. Hazel lurched away unsteadily. Frank caught her around the waist.

'You okay?'

'Sure. Piece of cake,' Hazel said breathlessly.

Nico held out the Gatorade. She gave him a rueful smile.

'You did fine,' Nico reassured her.

'Clovis,' Will said, 'I'm going to hook Percy up now. I'll need you to add a drop when I say so.'

'Gotcha.' Clovis squared his shoulders and held the dropper like it was a gun he was preparing to shoot.

They all held their breaths as Will inserted the needle into Percy's arm. The pale gold nepenthe ran through the tubes, travelling up his veins.

Nothing seemed to happen.

'Add a drop,' Will said.

Bit by bit, Clovis added Lethe to the potion, which turned gradually milkier. The room was so silent, Nico could practically hear the flow of nepenthe into Percy's veins. He wasn't sure what the Lethe-to-nectar ratio was at this point. Half the cup was already gone.

And then he sensed it.

There was no visible change. Percy's face remained peaceful and blank. His body was still. But Nico felt the sense of imminent death back off a bit.

'It's working,' he said.

The room seemed to let out a collective breath.

'Should we keep this dose, then?' Will asked.

Nico shook his head, though he couldn't say how he knew this. 'Keep going,' he told Clovis.

Clovis refilled the dropper and continued to add Lethe to the nepenthe.

Will put his hands out in front of him, palms towards Percy. 'That's amazing,' he murmured. 'I've never seen anything like it.'

With only a quarter cup left to go, the physical changes began to be visible. Percy's pallor faded. His face twitched. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and then his lips parted and he drew in a deep, shaky breath like he was cleansing his lungs.

Nico grinned. This was really working.

Then it started to go wrong. The colour in Percy's cheeks, which had come back with the nepenthe treatment, began to fade again. And it wasn't just his face. His entire form seemed to be fading, as though something was leeching his essence away.

'Stop!' Will told Clovis, who withdrew the dropper so quickly, it slipped from his fingers and fell into the stamnos.

It was too late, though. Percy's body became translucent and insubstantial, just like a ghost.

Nico shuddered. A memory flitted into his mind, of another demigod whose physical body had turned to smoke. Whose body Nico had converted into smoke.

But this wasn't quite like Bryce Lawrence, the treacherous Roman demigod whom Nico had ghostified during the Giant War. Bryce had gone black and smoky and sunk straight into the earth. Percy was dissolving into air itself. It was clearly a different thing. Yet Nico felt certain he'd seen it happen before.

The controlled stoicism on Annabeth's face melted into horror. She lunged forward to grab Percy, but her fingers swiped straight through him as his body evaporated completely.

Annabeth spun round to face Nico. 'Where did he go?' she shrieked. 'What happened to him?'

Nico rubbed his forehead guiltily. He'd told Clovis to keep going. But he still felt certain it was the right call. The veil of death wouldn't have lifted otherwise. This was something else, something they hadn't foreseen…

'I don't know…' He knit his eyebrows, trying to send his senses underground, but it was just as he'd ascertained before. Death no longer hovered over Percy. He wasn't in the Underworld.

Then he thought of the souls he had seen on the banks of the Lethe, disappearing after they drank. Ghosts, dissolving into their newborn lives. He thought of Bianca, how he'd lost any ability to track her once she'd chosen that path.

Oh, Hades.

'What?' Annabeth said, seeing the realisation dawning on his face. 'You do know.'

'I think…' Nico gulped. He had to force himself to meet her desperate, stormy eyes. 'I think Percy's been reborn.'

The nepenthe is referenced in the Odyssey as a potion that is supposed to quell all sorrows with forgetfulness. But the actual recipe is my own interpretation, of course!

Also posted on Ao3.

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