butterflyoverthesea

AU: Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal and his Fingers try to enter the Juke Joint instead of Remmick

Sweat, pulsating veins and sore quads. The clatter of wooden shoe soles stomping down on old wood planks, not built for dancing. The dusty old building vibrates with the resonance from Sammie’s guitar, every brush by his rough fingertips over the priceless strings threaten to take down the Juke Joint with him.

Outside, the spectators grow restless. The usual pack of eight, at the head stands Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal. His guard dogs fan out in a V shape behind him, less taking in the music, more primed to await his next orders, as if tethered to the tilt of his head or the click of his jaw. But for once, their leader is speechless. His eyes, baby blue in daylight, now reflect hungry the golden glow of the building which is still foreign to him.

Moonlight douses the parking lot before the Smokestack Twins’ Juke in an ultramarine glow, turning the usually rainbow shades of shirts that the Jimmies wear all to the same dark hue. Crickets buzz, the squeak of a late arrivals car parking, and simultaneously communicating a need for an oil change, cut through the night, yet aid the melody that Sammie plays.

„Fingers,“

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal finally speaks, seven sets of ears perk up. Every word from him is a drop in their empty food bowls, seven sets of eyes land on the back of his head.

„Ya hear that? He is the one.“

He massages the Petrine cross which dangles from his neck.

A murmur runs through his disciples, long has it been since Jimmy had first foretold the legend of a force so powerful that it can cut through time and space, bring forth the deceased and connect the living to the past. He spoke of people who possessed such a power. A chance to see his Father, a chance to speak to his deceased family. The search has now finally come to an end. Sir Jimmy can sense it.

„Jimmy Ink, Jimmima. Ye will accompany me, the rest of ye wait here.“

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal says, tucking his golden necklace down his shirt. Strangers don’t take kindly to their religion, what they will need is a friendly demeanor so surgical and precise that they will be let in, despite their appearance.

—

„Come quick, some commotion at the door.“

A messenger sent by Cornbread rattles Smoke from his thoughts. He shoots Stack a look, they don’t need words to communicate. This ain't good. If Cornbread can’t even leave the door to gather them by himself there must be a hold up. Smoke’s mind races, restless, all over the place. The Irish. The Italians. Either one or both of them must have been tipped off to the coup, but he would have never thought that it would be this soon, shit, they haven’t been here a day. His mind jumps to Hogwood. He could picture it now, that low son of a bitch with his Klan-buddies busting down their door, ghosts in the night with their hoods and shit.

Smoke leads, Stack follows, pushing their way through the patrons who have, luckily, not noticed anything amiss, and are dancing to Slim hammering the keys into the dust.

To Smoke’s surprise, neither of his theories are the reason for the commotion at the door. Cornbread moves his large frame out of the way to reveal a sight he has never seen before.

Smoke shoots Stack another quick glance, Stack is already looking at him with an expression that says „Who the hell might these pecks be?“.

Smoke looks them once up and down. Three of ’em, in the front a white man with blond hair and blue eyes, just about the last thing he wants to see tonight, not much better is the white girl behind him, must be his sister, nearly white hair and even pastier skin. Only one that seems even slightly in the right place is the third, a woman with deeper skin and deeper eyes.

Priding himself on being a quick but accurate judge of character, she seems more normal than the rest, she seems almost embarrassed to be tagging along with the others.

„You fellas must be the owners of this establishment.“

The blond man says, he has a slight Scottish accent, mingled with something else. Smoke places it in Carolina. He flashes a hideous smile at the twins. Rotten teeth, some black, all crooked, unmistakable in the night. Smoke raises his brows at the sight.

„That’s right. And you are?“

„Name’s Jimmy. Actually, Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal but you can just call me Jimmy.“

The man does a little flourish, gesturing up to his mane of golden hair that sits like a crown atop his head. Smoke glances past him, locking eyes with the redhead behind Jimmy. Her face stays blank, as if to sign under the words of her leader.

„We heard tale of a party. Food, blues music, drink and the like.“

Jimmy goes on, undeterred by the fact that he seems to have made everyone uncomfortable.

Annie, Mary, Sammie and Pearline rush to the door. Positioning themselves by their men, Annie lays a calming hand on Smoke’s shoulder, Mary squeezes Stack’s hand. Pearline and Sammie hang back. This isn’t about them, they think. But their just as curious to find out what the strangers want.

A flicker of recognition crosses Jimmy’s face, his icy eyes land on Sammie, until Smoke cuts him loose, moving between them.

„We like to drink, we happen to be travelers, and we been on the road all day, so we hungry as dogs.“

Jimmy smiles, too wide. Cigarette smoke might be the only deterrent for the rot wafting off of these three, Smoke takes a long drag and exhales out the door, not for one second letting the strangers out of his sight.

„Woof, woof.“

Jimmima jokes, grinning just as wide, prompting Jimmy to chuckle and Ink to finally crack her stubborn facade and hide a grin.

„You wouldnae mind us coming in, would you?“

Jimmy asks, his Scottish slip not escaping anyone inside the Juke.

Cornbread guffaws,

„I think y’all at the wrong place.“

Upset, Jimmima pulls a face.

„What makes you say that?“

As she speaks, Jimmy tilts his head toward her, as if only allowing her to talk when he gives her the right to.

Jimmy is about to take a step forward, when Smoke instinctively raises his hand to his gun, concealing the weapon, but a clear signal to the Scotsman to keep his distance if he wants to keep his yellowed teeth.

„Smoke, y’all alright?“

Sammie finally speaks up, joining his cousins by the doorframe. His voice is a deep ember, smooth like molasses, even just those words seem to ease the tension at the door. Jimmy relaxes, falling back on his left leg, leaning with such a casualness, you would never assume just how badly he needed this to go in his favor.

He eyes up Sammie, and melts into another dark smile. He puts one ringed finger up to his lips. Smoke notes that the gaudy rings he wears upon every single finger look like they were plucked straight off of ten different brides.

„And you must be that voice I heard from out here. Real poetry.“

Jimmy shakes his head, giddy, lathering the sweetness on with every word.

„Damn beautiful voice.“

Jimmima agrees.

„Even through these walls.“

Ink speaks for the first time, revealing her equally yellow teeth. Pearline flinches, somehow she hadn’t expected the same from Jimmy Ink, but is all the more repulsed by her. Pearline grabs Sammie’s arm, on the one hand to steady herself, on the other to hold him back. Smoke moves in front of Sammie, protecting his lion cub.

„Where ya’ll from?“

„Down the road.“

Jimmima retorts, quick as a whip.

„How far?“

Stack pipes up, he can’t help but flash his signature grin. He takes the situation with more levity than his brother. This is just bizarre, nothing more. Long as it isn’t Hogwood or either of their Chicago affiliates, to him, life’s peachy.

„North Carolina.“

Jimmy fires back, not missing a beat, as if the quicker they answered the questions, the sooner they will be let in.

Smoke takes the baton from Stack and fires off another one.

„Ya’ll Klan?“

Jimmy hesitates. He knows of Hogwood. Jimmy Shite and Jimmy Fox are his nephews. He also knows what Hogwood has planned for the Juke. That’s precisely why he needs to get inside so badly, he needs Sammie. In out, quick business. He doesn’t care what happens to the rest of them, more souls delivered to Old Nick, far as he is concerned. He only wants Sammie, and for his Fingers to be gone and clear of the Juke before they’re aired out come morning.

„Sir!“

Jimmy pretends to be offended, clutching his chest, wrapping his fingers around the cross necklace he hides under his shirt.

„We believe in equality, and music. We just came here to dance. Spend our money. Have a good time.“

Smoke seems skeptical, remaining his statuesque self, not budging. Stack seems to be lightening up to these clowns.

„Here, I’ll show you. Jimmima, do the dance.“

Jimmy twirls his fingers, motioning Jimmima to obey. He steps back a step to make room so everyone can see. Jimmima begins moving oddly to the blues that spill out from inside. Her dance is jerky, she spasms at the music as if she has never heard a single tune before in her young life. Ink hides her face watching her.

Stack’s face morphs into a mask of his usual self, biting back the heartiest laugh imaginable. He knows that if he were to look at his brother now, he couldn’t help but bellow out the loudest belly laugh. He opts to study the dusty ground instead, though his shoulders begin to tremble.

Smoke manages to watch Jimmima dance with a straight face for a remarkably long time, before waving his hands „no.“

„Nah, you can stop. Hol on just a minute now.“

Jimmy seems genuinely upset by this, just a second ago he was watching Jimmima, who is now bobbing back and forth slowly, her enthusiasm having died down but not quite, like a swing set slowly phasing out, with a wide shark grin, and clapping his hands together enthusiastically.

„Aww, it was just about to get good.“

Jimmy complains, gesturing a pleading motion with his hefty hands.

„I believe ya, it’s just…this here is a Juke Joint.“

Smoke explains.

„Blues music.“

Stack fills in.

„But we got money and we ready to spend it with ya’ll.“

Jimmy Ink tries, but her plea falls upon deaf ears.

„And that music was soundin’ goddamn amazing.“

Sir Jimmy looks straight at Sammie, again and again managing to evade Smoke’s blockade.

„Yer tellin’ us we ain't welcome?“

Jimmy begins to get upset. His voice is low, almost a growl. He is a man that carries more than meets the eye inside. Though it is already clear to Smoke, just on his position in front of the others, and how they seem to act only on a crux to him and follow his example, that he is some sort of ring leader, someone used to getting what he wants. Smoke himself is a man who gets what he wants, he puts his foot down. He grows impatient.

„If you go down that road you’ll get right on back to town. Plenty of white barrelhouses down there.“

„This cause we…?“

Jimmy motions to his skin, stroking over the back of his hand once.

„I See…“

Jimmy stares at him with a blank expression. Every so slowly, he nears Smoke, Stack is ready to draw, but Smoke holds him back. Jimmy tilts his head so that he looks at Smoke through his woven light brow hairs, long shadows suddenly deepening every fold, every hill and every valley of his face. He seems changed, dangerous.

His voice is barely a whisper, intended for all but directed at Smoke,

„Then how’d that one get in?“

Without breaking eye contact, he nods in Mary’s direction. Stepping in front of her new sister without hesitating even for a heartbeat, Annie spits back, holding up a warning finger,

„She here, cause she family.“

Jimmy breaks the spell between him and Smoke, and opens himself back to everyone, as if only now remembering his own resolution, that they needed to act as friendly and non threatening as possibly to gain their trust.

„Family… That’s what I’m looking for too. Can’t we just for this one night all be family? How’s that?“

„How’s that…“

Jimmy Ink and Jimmima mouth silently, only to themselves. Sammie catches it, wrinkling his nose at the strange behavior.

He opens his arms, faking an embrace to those behind the door, none react. This snake oil salesman has already shown his true colors.

Jimmy Ink and Jimmima behind them put on their best performance as friendly folk, but the damage is done. None react. Jimmy thinks that its time to turn it up to 11.

He takes a large step toward the doorframe, maybe if they didn’t let them in by sheer kindness, he would have to resort to his usual method, brute force. Smoke’s hand is on his pistol before Jimmy reaches the threshold.

„Oh-ho-ho!“

Jimmy puts his arms up, laughing.

„There’s simply no need for such violence. We’ll be on our way. We appreciate your charity, jus’ hearin’ us out.“

He falls back in rank with his disciples and lowers his arms. He looks at Smoke for just a moment longer than is comfortable, then turns on his heel.

„We’re gonnae go.“

He turns back to Smoke.

„But we’re gonnae leave real slow…just in case ya’ll change your minds.“

He flashes one last smile at the entire gathering at the door, then the three of them slowly saunter away into the night. Smoke had half a heart to offer Jimmy Ink to join them if she liked, but knows that the trio is a package deal, and he can’t have those two blond wildcards ruining the party.

—

Arguments about money and the lack thereof send Mary straight outside, into the night where the three Jimmies are waiting. The cold night breeze bites at Mary’s arms, she wraps herself tighter int her silken scarf and approaches the three with apprehension.

They seem to be listening to a story that Sir Jimmy is telling, she tries to understand what about, but nothing he says seems familiar to her. Old Nick, and charity are all she can really make out before she is too close and has reached the radius in which Jimmy pauses his story, and gives her a kind smile.

„Ah, are ye lost, wee lamb?“

He asks, calling her over. He scoots on the tree stump on which he sits, patting the space next to him. Mary seems slightly more relaxed around the three, being with white folk more often than not, but still feels a good deal of unease. She sits straight as if suspended at the top of her head by a red string, waiting at any second to be pulled up and back into the Juke Joint.

„Or did ye come out here for some fresh air?“

Jimmy asks, leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees and looking up at Mary.

„I just came out to see if you were good people.“

„Aren’t ya just the sweetest thing. Isnae she, Jimmies?“

Sir Jimmy says, prompting the other two to nod their heads enthusiastically.

„Are you all-do you all have the same name? Jimmy?“

Mary asks, confused and a bit shaken. She keeps adjusting her scarf, glancing nervously from one to another. She only now notices something strange. The women both have the faintest scars upon their foreheads, before she can get a better look, she is ripped from her thoughts.

„I’m Jimmima.“

The blonde girl says, proud and happy as a clam, bobbing now from side to side in an odd manner that Mary had never seen anyone exhibit before. Jimmy chuckles approvingly at Jimmima.

„Sure are. No, I say Jimmies because the rest of em are all called Jimmy. I’m Jimmy, she’s Jimmy, we’re all called Jimmy.“

He says, slowly getting quieter toward the end. His golden necklace gently falls out from where he tucked it away in his shirt. Mary’s eyes catch on the glint of it.

„All?“

Mary asks, crooking one brow up.

„What do ya mean, all?“

Multiple sets of hands wrap around Mary all at once, the rest of the Fingers having crept up silently all around them, covering her mouth and securing her in place, so that she could neither scream, nor break free. Sir Jimmy stands up and slowly approaches Mary, nearing her so much that even through a stranger’s hand, sweaty and nearly covering her nose she can smell his rotten breath.

„Old Nick says…charity.“

Sir Jimmy breathes, much to the apparent delight of his companions.

—

Like a barter at a Sunday market, Mary is soon traded for Preacher Boy. Stack had gone out to look for his woman, when he found her tied up and knife to her throat, surrounded by eight Jimmies, that would not relent if not given Sammie.

„I promise I won’t hurt him. Just give me little Sammie, and you can have yer cunt back.“

Sir Jimmy explains, calm as ever, calm as if he weren’t holding a woman at knifepoint.

Sammie himself offered to go, not taking no for an answer.

Now they sit around a fire, miles down the road, all eyeing preacher boy and his fancy guitar.

„Well…fucking go on then.“

Sir Jimmy says, gesturing or Sammie to play.

„I wannae hear you play. I need to see my Father once more. And my sisters, my mother. You have the power to bring them to me.“

Sammie swallows hard, beginning to strum the song he had played at the juke. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't make the spirits come forth. There's no community, no soul behind his singing. He’s terrified, and more than that, he feels no communion with these people.

Jimmy grows impatient, turning red hot with embarrassment. He had sensed the power in Sammie. Promised it to his Fingers. He couldn’t have been wrong. And he couldn’t have it that all of it was for nothing, he would look weak, pathetic.

„Jimmima, do yer dance, see if that shakes anything loose.“

Jimmy orders, Jimmima obeys like the loyal puppy dog she is. Still, nothing.

„All of you. Dance.“

Most of the Jimmies begin to dance, nervously, uncoordinated and stiff. Jimmy Ink keeps sitting right where she was.

„Dance!“

Sir Jimmy barks at her.

„But-„

„No fucking but! Dance, now!“

Sir Jimmy shouts, falling wildly with his arms.

„Or I’ll take yer fucking face off!“

Jimmy Ink begins to slowly dance, locking eyes with Sammie. Still, no spirits reveal themselves. Still no magic. Jimmy begins to dance as well, hoping he might be the missing puzzle piece left to make the magic happen.

Sammie looks to Ink, and like Smoke and Stack before, they need no words to communicate what to do next.

Jimmy thrashes wildly in a circle to the music, whipping his head back and forth, eyes closed, thrashing and blind. Sammie seizes the opportunity.

He takes a large swing with his guitar, and hits Jimmy square in the temple, so that he is knocked unconscious and lands on the forest ground with a loud thud, and the sound of his gold chain curling in on itself.

„Come on.“

Sammie says to Ink pulling her sleeve. She stares dumbfounded at her leader on the ground, the other Jimmies are frozen in shock.

„Come ON!“

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 135k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Chapter 19 - Maybe Far Away

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 19 - Maybe Far Away

Jimmy Ink flexed her jaw, left to right, it made a terrible clicking sound. She had slept on her side, facing away from her sister. She hated sleeping on her side, somehow her body always shifted and hardened in the night, leaving her feeling lopsided for an entire day. But she could not take it anymore, she did not want to open herself in Bat’s direction. The past two nights she could hear her breathing heavily, clearly wide awake, shifting, rustling, even whispering. It made it impossible for Jimmy Ink to come to rest. 

Did Jimmy Bat think she was deaf, or just stupid? She could hear her whispering. Something was going on, though she couldn’t yet put her finger on it. But she was used to hunting, used to laying low, hiding in the grass, to strike at just the right moment, when it is least expected.

She had a suspicion that there was something more to Sir Lord Jimmy’s words when he had congratulated Jimmy Bat after her kills. He sometimes dealt out compliments to the Fingers, but it was specifically how Jimmy Bat had turned rosy that triggered a narrative in Jimmy Ink’s mind. 

But there was something else too, the tiniest glimmer of envy, building itself up inside of Jimmy Ink. The holy son of satan, their grand dark master, had selected the newest of the Fingers to, seemingly, take favor in, while she herself had served him the longest, been there from the very beginning, and Sir Jimmy had once told her that he had calculated her to have possibly been born on Judgement Day, and that that fact promised her a place upon the mighty Fist because of it. Did that mean nothing anymore? She had done that Alpha in good, and gotten equal praise to Jimmy Bat, when all she did was finish off the demons that Jimmy Noose had already practically dealt with.

Jimmy Ink tried desperately not to grow bitter from it, it was not Jimmy Bat’s fault, not any of it. Sometimes she made it quite difficult to understand her. She insisted upon her principles. Sometimes she could be jumpy, a real scaredy cat, or other times hesitant to enact charity on anyone besides grown men. Children, women, elderly, it seemed to affect her, make her struggle to lift a knife, when really it should double her fun. And she lived with her head in the clouds, always singing or fiddling with things, looking off in the distance, a head full of nonsense, Jimmy Ink decided. But it was also those same qualities that Jimmy Ink, begrudgingly had to admit to herself, endeared her to Bat as well. She wasn’t cut from the same cloth as most of the Fingers, perhaps because she had spent so long in the clutches of god-honoring people, and though she had made leaps and bounds to serve Old Nick and partake in their ways, she was simply her own free spirit. And somehow, besides her many short comings, her favorite fellow Finger. Though she would never speak the words out loud.

Jimmy Ink sighed, trying to breathe out, in one fell swoop, her past resentments and start fresh with her, a new sun, a new day, a new attitude. She rolled over, still aching somewhat, to look at Jimmy Bat. 

She was curled up, sleeping like a little kitten, her wig had almost fallen off, she often struggled with securing it properly to her rather fine tufts of hair underneath. For Jimmy Ink this was never an issue, her real hair grew back in tight red curls, which took the clips of the wig very well, even when doing flips and spins.

Jimmy Ink smiled to herself, and rolled her eyes, grabbing Bat’s wig and smushing it to her head, tussling through the strands in an effort to shake her friend awake.

„Oi, Wakey-wakey spleepyheid!“

She jeered, becoming more gruff with her pushes. Jimmy Bat blinked her eyes open, getting her bearings. Her fingers clawed into the air at nothing, as if something had been ripped from her, but there was nothing there. 

She crinkled her nose at the tussling and shoving from Ink.

„Ouch!“ 

She protested, swatting Ink’s hands away.

„Christ almighty, stop it!“

She grumbled, then clasped her hand onto her mouth.

„Shite!“

She cursed, she would often, especially in such a tired state, slip up and fall back into old expressions. Jimmy Ink never told on her anymore, even though it did leave her somewhat offended on satan’s behalf. It wasn’t right to see the word leave Bat’s lips, all the while breaking the scar of the Petrine cross on the very same face. But she knew that it was just a little slip up, and could see how much she had regretted it right after. Jimmy Ink decided to mess with her.

She raised her eyebrows at Jimmy Bat, as if disappointed, and Jimmy Bat shrunk under her gaze. She was quite easily intimidated by her. Jimmy Ink lingered for just a moment longer, then revealed that she was just playing with her, and chuckled. 

„Ye shoulda seen yer face. Yer eyes were like this,“

Jimmy Ink spread her own eyes open into big circles with her fingers, sticking her tongue out, prompting Jimmy Bat to explode into laughter, she shook her head.

„Don’t scare me like that, thought ye were gonnae tell on me again.“

„We’re not kids anymore, donnae worry about it.“

Jimmy Ink huffed, getting up with a great loud grunt. It was true, back when Jimmy Bat was brand new, her slip ups weren’t only frequent, they were constant. So much so that she bore burn marks from punishments she had received for every single time she uttered the words „god“ „Jesus“ or „christ“, as Jimmy Ink had seen it as her duty to report on her and have the fault corrected. It added to her confusion as to why satan would have wanted her upon his mighty fist in the first place, but she did not dare question his will, and eventually dropped it. 

Jimmy Ink rubbed some sleep out of her eyes and wiped it on the grass. She looked around camp, besides her and Jimmy Bat most of the others were still sleeping, and yet as always, Sir Jimmy was already wide awake, off by the far away tree-line, probably returning from a morning leak, Jimmy Ink guessed. 

Jimmy Bat followed her gaze, and visibly reacted to the sight of their leader. Jimmy Ink took note of this, but quickly swallowed it down. 

„Did ya dream anything?“

She said, to break the spell of silence, and Jimmy Bat returned her focus to her. She considered her answer for a moment, then spoke,

„Aye, I dreamed something. But I cannae remember it exactly. It wasnae a nightmare, that’s all I know. It was something good.“

—

They came upon a little strip mall, the signs had mostly fallen down, there were vines climbing up the storefronts and trees sprouting out of the parking lot. Stray, sun bleached papers and plastic scraps whirled in the wind, flattening against the old broken in windows, plastering the place in pale colors. There were restaurants, department stores, and storefronts of which you could not tell from a distance what had been advertised inside.

Empty and unempty shopping carts dotted between cars, rolling on their own in the early spring breeze. As if some had moved over time, and others had been abandoned by shoppers fleeing for their lives on that fateful day which was now almost eighteen years ago.

A lone demon, no Alpha, but a slow crawler missing a leg, was the only living thing around, heaving themself pitifully over the concrete.

Needing only to raise a brow, Sir Jimmy commanded Cornetto to step forward and give it release. Cornetto didn’t even need to brandish a weapon, simply bringing his boot down hard upon his head, flattening the cranium into a dark brown soup. Sir Jimmy bestowed him with an energetic thumbs up, and approached the first storefront, the rest of the Jimmies followed.

He stopped before a large board, with pictures of different meals on them, each square had a little number beside it, the meals looked unappetizing, as time and the sun had bleached the colors of every picture into green and cyan. 

„This was a Chinese noodle shop.“

Sir Jimmy determined, hands on his hips, leaning slightly back to tilt his head up and study the menu, scrunching his face together.

„Ah,they were glorious, on special occasions ye would pick up the phone and all you had tae say was one of these numbers, and a lad on a bike would arrive with the corresponding box.“

He explained.

Jimmy Ink curled her upper lip and raised a brow in disgust. They did not look like boxes of food she would want to order, more like rotted and molded intestines. She could not imagine what they must have tasted like. 

„But ye could only dae that sort o’ thing a couple’a times a year, it was against the law tae do it more than that. Only after a celebration like a baby bein’ born. Or donations tae the church, would grant such a visit.“

He said, an awe to his voice. 

„They look fuckin rank.“

Jimmy Shite said plumply.

Sir Jimmy shot him a nasty glare. 

„Obviously, these pictures are old, and not what they actually looked like, ye daft fuckin cunt.“

He snapped. He held Jimmy Shite’s gaze for a moment longer, then resumed.

„And there was a mighty red serpent painted on the box it was delivered in,“

He continued, back to his speech, undeterred after silencing the interruption, his voice regaining that regal edge,

„Likely a tribute. Tae honor Father, as Revelations 12:9 teaches us, that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan.“

He finished his speech so theatrically, that we were left in silence, awaiting his next word.

„Howzat?“

He asked, clasping his hands in front of his stomach, and slightly crooking his head, cocky.

„HOWZAT!“

We responded. Jimmy Ink was now excited. This was a special place, and if the boxes with food were delivered from here, then there would be some boxes inside. She was eager to look upon the image of Old Nick, itching to break the door down and take a look around.

„Can we go inside, then?“

She asked.

Sir Jimmy smiled. As always, he waited just a little longer than comfortable to answer, before speaking, 

„Yes, Jimmy Ink. Father says tae knock yerselves out.“

He grinned. The Jimmies didn’t need to hear more than that, breaking out in hooting and hollering, Cornetto, in a kicking mood, broke the store window with another well planted stomp, and Jimmy Bat fulfilling her namesake, took a fueled up swing at another smaller window, and, avoiding the sharp edges of the glass, hoisted herself through. She moved as if she was on springs. Jimmy Ink could hardly wait, climbing inside after her, she lightly cut herself on the glass, and beads of blood sprung from the palms of her hand, but nothing too dramatic. Jimmy Ink always made use of the fact that she had a red track suit, simply pressing her hand down against her leg as she perused the store, to act as a sort of scab for the cut, and not whining like a little baby.

Sir Jimmy remained outside, studying the menu further, lost in his memories. He paced back and forth, tapping his fingers to his lip, as if what he was looking at were something complex to decipher.

Jimmy Noose was outside in the parking lot, he seemed hesitant to join in the fun, obeying the always standing orders of maintaining distance like the good guard dog he was, and lingered by the smashed demon, poking at the stump where the leg used to be with his javelin.

Jimmy Bat found many little dark plastic fish, with red cap snouts in a pile behind the counter. She opened one of the caps and sniffed, it smelled salty, flavorful, but a bit spoiled as well. She had thought that perhaps they could use it in their cooking, but it seemed far past its due date, and she dropped it. Humans used to create foods in the shapes of other foods, that tasted nothing like what it was supposed to look like, she had learned. Weirdos.

They quickly found the exact boxes that Sir Jimmy had been raving about, Jimmy Ink grabbed a few and wanted to bring them out to Sir Jimmy, perhaps this would turn back the tide on her. She did not regret that she had spoken out for Jimmy Noose, but she did equally not enjoy the feeling of no longer being in good graces with satan’s heir. 

She raced back out, and presented them to Sir Lord Jimmy, who was delighted at the gift and beamed down at her. 

„Thank ye, Jimmy.“

He inspected the design. 

„Ah, this brings back such memories. I can almost smell it. It was glorious, but not always. For there was a curse upon the food.“

He spoke, Jimmy Ink’s eyes widened. 

„Ye see, sometimes you would be eating yer meal, and then your tongue would burn, and ye would begin sweatin’, yer eyes waterin’ and ye couldnae longer breathe. And one time, after I spoke out of turn, Father made me eat three entire boxes.“

He looked at Jimmy Ink with a grim expression. She tried her hardest to remain steadfast, to show no fear. 

„If it hurt tae eat, why did ye order it?“

She asked, wanting to move on. But she was also genuinely confused. Human behavior before Judgment Day could be so odd. Why did he miss the food so much if it could hurt so bad? His threat did not escape her, but ruminating upon it wasn’t an option for her. 

Sir Jimmy raised his brows, as if to confirm momentarily that his words had gone through to her, then alleviated her by indulging her question.

„It’s too hard tae describe, ye wouldnae understand.“

Sir Jimmy said, and resumed twisting and turning the box in his hands, admiring the design.

„Ye should add this tae yer ink, Ink.“

He joked, tossing her one of the boxes. Jimmy Ink caught it, and considered the notion. He was right, it would be a lovely image to draw, she ripped out the side of the box that bore the serpent that was Old Nick, and stuffed it in her back pocket.

Jimmy Ink lingered a moment longer beside her leader, she had half a mind to make a jab at him, like she had done to Jimmy Bat, some insinuation about two nights ago, but he was far less receptive to her types of jokes and hints, usually reacting badly, the result of which being that Jimmy Ink was ordered to give herself a slap, and especially now was not the time or place, so she let it be, instead joining back into the fun and seeing what else might be hidden inside the shop.

They searched the entire place top to bottom, though not much else of interest could be conjured up. They moved on to the next store, an old book shop. It was much more intact, likely never having been raided before, and kept fairly dry and spoiled-food-free for the past decade and a half.

Jimmy Ink let her hands ripple over the tops of books, all different heights, that were stacked in shelves upon shelves upon shelves. Not all the Jimmies could read, and none of them could read well, though Sir Jimmy was the best best of them, and had tried to teach Jimmy Ink all that he knew. It was enough to read road signs, spellings of food words, the word „Jimmy“, and many things related to the church or satan, and some simple words with few syllables were all fine, but anything beyond that was too advanced. Sir Jimmy forbade traveling with books, he explained that if Old Nick wanted them to know something, he would set it in their path, and that was enough. Jimmy Bat had never revealed if she had been taught to read and write or not, so Jimmy Ink assumed that she was just too ashamed to admit that she could not do either of the two.

The Jimmies loved comics, and magazines with photo stories in them, those made for teenagers that documented their lives and drama, or little funny cartoons that got into all kinds of trouble. The less word bubbles on the pages, the better. That left more room for pictures to tell the stories. 

In some of the harshest winters, when she was still very small, Jimmy Ink remembered how Sir Lord Jimmy had opened up a cook book, it was her and Noose and Car back then, and had paged through it, explaining to them exactly how each of the different meals had tasted, and his words filled their starving stomachs for the coldest of nights. Some of the meals she could imagine quite well, if he was able to liken it to a type of meat they knew, or a root or berry, but other meals like „yoghurt“ did not conjure any taste in her mind, it was as if he had been describing colors to a blind person.

Jimmy Ink stopped her perusing fingers, and tried to read some of the backs of the books she had been playing with. It was hard to concentrate, as the other Fingers had begun throwing around pamphlets from the second story, they were throwing paper airplanes at each other, and were having a snowball fight with crumpled up pieces of paper. Sir Jimmy was surveying this with great joy, sitting back in an old comfy looking leather chair, relishing the chaos.

There was only one of them missing, as she often was, Jimmy Bat. Nobody else had seemed to notice, surprisingly not even Sir Jimmy. But Ink remained cool, the little free spirit tended to wander off. She was kept on a loose chain, since she had earned their trust years ago, it was alright for her to stray for a few minutes. But she was the only Jimmy who had never been assigned to search for pastures new. Jimmy Ink had thought that maybe it was an unspoken rule that the newest addition to the fist was not allowed to do so, or perhaps, what was more likely, was that Sir Jimmy feared, way deep down, that if he let Jimmy Bat wander for too far and too long, she would not return to them.

Ink slinked out of the book store, right as she witnessed Shite drop a stack of four heavy looking books right onto Jimmy Junior’s head, to which Jimmy Jam practically leapt up to the second story, crawling her way up by a book shelf as if it were a ladder, to enact revenge, yelling at him, hitting him and cussing him out. 

Jimmy Noose had been wallowing around outside, but she now saw him off further away, inspecting the rest of the strip mall. His figure looked thin and measly, compared to the version of him she had known all her life. A pang of concern rose in Jimmy Ink’s chest, but if it was the will of satan, he would put medicine in their way, and that was enough to give her peace of mind.

It was always easy to find Jimmy Bat when she wandered off, one could hear her before one saw her. She was singing softly to herself, her voice carrying lightly above the stormy early spring wind, which was whipping the bleached flyers around the lot.

„Maybe far away…or maybe real near by…“

Jimmy Bat sang quietly, but loud enough to be heard if the wind carried her right.

Jimmy Ink wondered how she had gotten up there, until she saw a pipe that poked out of the wall and went up to a rain shoot and the top of the strip mall. She took a little run toward it, and easily climbed up in less than six paces, landing acrobatically on her feet.

„He may be pourin’ her coffee, she may be straightenin’ his tie…“

Ink’s presence did not deter Jimmy Bat from her song, as she paged through a very old looking newspaper. She was sitting on many more of them. They didn’t just look as old as everything around them, they looked ancient old, as if they were a hundred years old.

„Maybe in a house, all hidden by a hill-“

„Whatcha readin’ Bats?“

Jimmy Ink asked, walking over to her slowly.

Jimmy Bat raised her head, ripped from her concentration, and smiled weakly. Her eyes were welled up and red, nearly filled to the brim with tears. Had she not heard the tone in her voice as she sang, Ink might have assumed that they were irritated from the high winds, but she had clearly been crying.

„Old newspapers. I’m jus’ looking at the comics.“

She straightened out the page and showed it to Jimmy Ink.

„Look. That’s Little Orphan Annie. She used tae be my favorite.“

She said, wistfully.

„I havenae seen her since I was wee. Me parents had a whole book with her stories. They said she was popular when their parents where still wee. Which is longer ago than I can even imagine.“

Jimmy Bat sounded almost frightened by the idea of something being so ancient.

Jimmy Ink raised her eyebrows, impressed. 

„Never heard of her. Lemme see.“

She settled herself next to Jimmy Bat, and took away her paper. There were four little squares, and in each one, the little girl was doing something different. She was scrubbing the floors, and washing dishes, and in the last box, she was praying at her bedside. A cold shiver ran down Jimmy Ink’s back, this was sacrilege.

She gave Jimmy Bat her newspaper back, wordlessly.

A singular tear rolled down Bat’s cheek, landing just underneath the pictures. 

„They also did a play about it, and movies, with songs. And mother would sing them tae me. She would sing me tae sleep with them every night. It was like it was the only other thing she sung about, if she wasnae singing gospels about…“

Jimmy Bat paused, not wanting to purposefully speak the name „god“, and instead kind of muttered a „hm-hm-hm“ sound. 

Jimmy Ink remained silent, not sure of she should entertain such a conversation. Surely, Old Nick was watching them, casting judgement, disappointed in them. Again, her eyes became fixed on the scar on Jimmy Bat, and she became angry that behind that scar, her mind was thinking about prayers, and her mother. But she swallowed it down.

„She's sitting playing piano, he’s sittin’ payin’ a bill. Betcha they’re young. Betcha they’re smart. Bet they collect things like ashtrays and art. Betcha they’re good-“

Jimmy Bat sang softly, and began to cry harder, 

„Why shouldn’t they be. Their one mistake was givin’ up me…“

She leaned onto Jimmy Ink, muffling her cries into her suit, Jimmy Ink remained completely still, eyes fixed to the horizon. She was itching to either comfort her, or shake her off, but to do something about the situation to solve it, instead, she did not move a muscle. If satan was watching her, she did not want to slip up. Not like Jimmy Bat was.

„So maybe now this time,“

She sniffled between sobs, still sounding quite pretty,

„And maybe when I wake. They’ll be there calling me baby. May-’

She drew it out, voice becoming clearer,

„-be…“

Her voice trailed off, and now she too emerged her head and had her eyes fixed on the horizon. The sun was beginning to set, and the wind had somewhat calmed itself. The two remained, shoulder to shoulder, Jimmy Bat resting her head, slowly drying her tears, and watched the sun sink lower and lower.

„Do ye think about them a lot, then?“

Jimmy Ink eventually asked.

Jimmy Bat nodded solemnly.

„Did ye dream about them, and didnae want tae tell me?“

Jimmy Ink asked, in the exact same tone. 

„Bats?“

Ink coaxed her. 

This time, Jimmy Bat shook her head.

„I cannae remember what I dreamt. But it was something good. Dreaming about my parents wouldnae be a good dream.“

They both fell silent for a while. The wind carried smells of spring coming to life, far in the distance birds flew toward the orange and deep magenta, and the sound of the Jimmies fighting downstairs gently broke through the walls. 

„What dae ya remember about them?“

Jimmy Ink asked. She didn’t really need a response, she rather began asking herself what she could remember about her own parents. Nothing. She could remember nothing.

Jimmy Bat thought for a very long time.

„I…I remember some bits and pieces. Mostly things from when I was still wee, when I was five. And the way they would look at me. Smilin’.“

She paused for a moment.

„I also remember how stupid they were, puttin’ their faith in that…that liar. Who didnae save them, who is responsible for their deaths. Had they gone tae Old Nick, they’d be sittin’ here with us. I cannae understand how they were so dumb. They didnae seem dropped on their heid otherwise… And I remember that, one day, they were jus’ gone. The next thing I can remember is Sir Jimmy. He saved me.“

Jimmy Bat let out a little laugh.

„And I especially remember his track suit. Somehow that has burned itself into me mind, clearer tae me than all the memories of my parents combined.“

She fiddled with her belt, getting lost in thought again.

Jimmy Ink felt an uncommon sensation, a pang of guilt. Jimmy Bat did not remember that night. The charity enacted upon her family. The cottage. At least, only so little of it that it was nonsensical. But she was glad that the most important lesson stuck. 

Jimmy Ink glanced at Bat, sideways, she had to rear her head back, and saw a broken little girl, who had been confused, but her heart was in the right place. She wanted to serve her master Old Nick, she wanted to be saved, and that was enough to make Jimmy Ink lean her head down upon her friend, and put her arm around her, squeezing her once, tightly. 

The two of them fell asleep on the roof. They had stayed up until it was very late, not bothering to set up their beds, instead making up their stories like the good old days, and laughing their heads off. At some point, Sir Lord Jimmy had noticed their absence and sent Shite out to look for them, who popped his head up, was pelted with newspaper airplanes, and didn’t bother them much further, Jimmy and the rest of the Fingers slept in the book store, and Noose settled himself in the noodle shop. 

Next morning bright and early Sir Jimmy had sent Jimmy Shite up the pipe again to fetch the girls, and after that they threw a rock into the noodle shop to summon Noose. 

Jimmy Ink stole away from the clan for just a moment to check on her oldest friend, he had become so sickly and so pale that he nearly matched the lime green of his track suit, a joke which Ink made and he did not appreciate. 

She gave him some of the left-over deer jerky and patted him on the back. She then quickly left him, fearing that Old Nick might punish her for the things Jimmy Bat had shared with her the night before, that he might bring sickness upon her as well, and she rejoined the group. 

There were seven more shops, which they scavenged all the next day, working their way left to right of the strip. The last one they reached mid day, there was only a placard out front, and it had a heavy door with a glass pane that one could not see through, as it was rippled in a way that caught the light beautifully. Jimmy Ink hadn’t the foggiest idea what kind of institution this was, and the placard bore words she could not read. 

Sir Jimmy stepped forward, getting extremely close to the writing, knitting his brows together. He placed one finger along the navy blue lettering, and sounded the words out. 

„Drrrrrr….Eye…Iaaa…Ian. Drian…. K…Kellllllso…Kelson. D and R is Doctor,“

He elaborated, as the Jimmies all looked very confused at this mystical word.

„Dr. Ian Kelson - Noose, seems like Father does hae a plan for ye.“

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 130k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Chapter 18 - Teddy

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 18 - Teddy

We walked all day, until my feet were beaten. I could have sworn, that had I looked under my feet, I would have walked straight through the soles, the rubber felt paper thin, and there had been a pesky little rock dancing between my toes for the past hour, but I did not want to fall behind the others, and I simply bore it.

The sun was beginning to set, and we found a little clearing just in time to set up camp before it got too dark to see anything. We were slowly falling back into routine now, everyone knew their position. I knew that it was my job to clear the ground and tie tripwire between surrounding trees, I also kept an eye out for rocks that we could use to create a circle around our bonfire, and if in the end there was help needed, I would collect firewood.

I dropped my knapsack down next to Jimmy Ink, like I always did, and like always, she paid me little to no mind, but I was sure that if I moved away from her, she would miss me. Sometimes, when we were younger, we would move our beds further from the others and spend all night chatting away under our breath, discussing the others, discussing Old Nick, making up crazy stories, that somehow mirrored the fantastical tales that Sir Jimmy would tell us, but were still very much our own. Jimmy Ink came up with this little kitty cat character, who would smoke sardines and knew karate. At first I did not believe her that it was her own imagination, but in time I came to learn just how creative she was inside. She expressed it through many subtle ways, like her tattoos. She even inked the little sardine smoking cat onto herself, in the crook of her left elbow. The rest of her tattoos were satanic, honoring our master, but I secretly hoped that one day I would see her tattoo a baseball bat on herself, though it wasn’t likely. She was similar to Sir Jimmy in that way, and perhaps all of them, they would show slivers of affection, usually when they thought nobody else would notice, but in the broad daylight and amongst the group, they would be stubborn, off putting and dismissive at times. One had to peel back the layers, lift the rock, to see their true nature. Just like Jimmy Noose, who often couldn’t control a cheeky smile until he realized he was being watched and would then grunt, or like Jimmy Shite who could only show affection through teasing and play fighting. I knew now, that if he ignored you, you were truly nothing to him, if he was friendly it was likely a trick, and if he was mean it meant he adored you.

Perhaps the only ones who dared to show any sign of affection and kindness to one another were me, Jimmy Junior and Jimmy Jam, though they were pretty much always busy with each other, so I was left out to dry.

I sprawled out momentarily onto my bedding like a large cat, stretching my limbs, and cracking my spine. I extended and flexed my fingers, cracking my knuckles, it felt heavenly. Like an itch that had needed to be scratched, like a cool sip of water on a hot day. The lack of sleep had now fully caught up to me, leaving me drained from a two day trek.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, I knew I would have to get up in a second and keep pulling my weight until we were all ready to go to sleep, but I wanted just one moment of shut eye. I let my head sink down onto my little cot, and ran my hands down the sides of it, grazing over squished grass straws. Something blocked the sun, casting a shadow over my face. I was quickly ripped out of the moment, when Sir Jimmy placed his pack right by my side, where usually Jimmy Cornetto slept. Cornetto was out gathering firewood.

I opened one eye, I was greeted with the sight of Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, next to me, spreading his things and arranging them just how he liked it. He seemed almost so busy that he did not notice me, but even the fact that he had switched up the usually so established sleeping formation revealed otherwise.

„Oh-“

Escaped my lips, I stopped myself, I regretted it immediately. He was already a man often on edge, but had been particularly icy earlier. I did not want to offend him in any way. It had been a long day, the last thing I could manage now was if he flew off the handle. It happened extremely seldomly that he would snap at me, but when it did, and because it was so rare, it cut even deeper.

But to my surprise, he smiled at me, not taking an iota of offense at my surprise.

„Do ye mind?“

He asked, his voice had a playful uptick to it, the question was surely rhetorical. He could do whatever he wanted, and he knew it. But as he was known to be, he posed the question politely.

„No, not at all.“

I quickly said, sitting upright on my little bed, and brushing the faux hairs of my wig back behind my ear. Jimmy Ink surveyed the whole scene. She was chewing on her lip, hunched over, massaging her feet thoroughly. She did not make a peep about her suspicions, though in her mind she was putting an entire story together, and a pretty accurate one at that.

I scooted my things slightly out of the way for Sir Jimmy, as I was taking up quite a lot of space with my things, and Sir Jimmy was taller than Cornetto, so he could use the room.

„Donnae mind that, I’m good.“

He spoke, resuming his work, he was nearly finished. He had a blanket instead of a sleeping bag, similar to how he had a plush velour track suit, while we had plastic tactical wear. I often imagined how nice it would feel to have a blanket like his, how warm and comfy it must be in comparison, and how much of his smell must cling to it.

„Come on.“

Jimmy Ink pulled at my sleeve and flashed her eyes at me, full of intent. We were supposed to help collect firewood, now that most other things had been set up, and time was wasted. The sun was nearly gone, the tree trunk shadows striping the clearing like a crosswalk.

I followed her lead and glanced back at Sir Jimmy, now all alone at the campsite, now it was him who was relaxing, savoring the air of dusk, watching birds flit overhead, and relaxing back into his crossed arms, pillowing his head.

Jimmy Ink trudged ahead, itching to comment on what had just transpired, but managing to abstain.

„Arms.“

She ordered, meaning she wanted to dump any kindling she found into my arms as if I were her wheelbarrow. I obliged, and she dropped some branches onto me.

Shite and Junior had managed to kill some rabbits, they were the best with their bows and arrows, and they had already skinned them and roasted them over the fire. If there was one thing we could all do in seconds, it was skinning. Though when it was for charity’s sake, we knew how to draw it out to take seconds into hours. Noose had collected berries, but Sir Jimmy told us not to touch them as they were tainted with his illness, like butterflies that had had their wings touched, but Jimmy Noose seemed more than happy to eat them all himself. His usually rather full figure had slimmed down due to illness, I took comfort in the notion that he was getting some nutrients. Jimmy Jam had found some roots which she then washed in a little nearby creek and we all shared.

We all were too tired to make conversation, it had been an odyssey. Usually after a day like this, we would have discussed in detail our form, our kills, our thoughts, and reenacted some battle moves, but nobody even broached the subject. We silently chewed at our bones and muscles until we were all full, then doused the fire, and curled up into our beds. Cornetto had been displaced to sleep next to Shite, who fell asleep first and accidentally hit Cornetto in the face with his arm, earning him a slap right back, but they did not escalate into a fight, which it normally would have, but even they were too tired to tussle.

Jimmy Ink lay turned away from me, her shoulders rose and fell in slumber. I lay on my back, studying the stars. It was less bright tonight, the moon was waning, but more than that, the sky was overcast, so that it was a fun game to try and see the different star formations as the clouds shifted. Father and mother had often used them like a road map, and of the Jimmies I was the only star reader. A feat that I was quite proud of. I also knew that each formation had a name, and a meaning, and would shift and change with the seasons. I often got lost deep in thought about such things to put myself to sleep, as we spent nearly every night of our travels under the firmament, but not tonight, I did not think of the stars. I wondered if Sir Jimmy was asleep next to me.

All evening, I hardly looked at him. I don’t know if it was returning shyness or something else, but whatever it was, it was far from indifference. I had been thinking about him non stop since the moment that he had set up shop next to me. I heard him smack his lips around the roasted rabbit, and I heard him yawn a couple of times, he seemed to be trying to draw my attention, he even played with a coin that he had found, clanking it up and down his row of fingers with elegance, trying to elicit a reaction from me, and I was quit enamored, but only watched through the peripheral of my eye.

I remembered the offer that he had made, and it didn’t seem like he had made it lightly, based on how scared he seemed to even speak it. I wondered, what he had meant specifically, if he would be open to taking another walk with me, or simply talk, warm me up by rubbing my shoulders, as he had done in that moment, or if he meant something else entirely. Whatever it was, it intrigued me, it had sent my mind reeling, and I wanted to trigger those events again, but it was as if I were glued down onto my sleeping bag, unable to move, unable to dare to look in his direction. As if my life depended on it.

He might have been watching me all evening, or paying me no mind at all, I could not tell you. I decided that I would try and determine if he was awake or asleep only by sound, listening for his breathing. He was breathing evenly, deeply, and every now and then I could sense him shift next to me. His velour track suit did not make a sound, but his chains did, and his blanket crumpled from time to time. I could not discern if they were sounds of sleep or wake.

It had been about an hour since lights out, and by now I assumed everyone but me was asleep. The beautiful buzz of crickets befell our little meadow, tiny bats flew overhead and squeaked or flitted their wings. It served us as a reminder of Old Nick, they were his little servants, as were we, Sir Jimmy had once told us. And he had cracked a joke about me being his most loyal servant, as my name was „bat“, which I had adored.

As the little bats flew overhead, traveling on the wind, so did a colder air. The same freeze that had pestered me the night before nipped at my skin, biting my nose and tussled my hair.

My teeth began to chatter, I tried to suppress it, and I almost wished that I was sleeping already, for I never froze when I was asleep, but I could not help it.

Wordlessly, Sir Jimmy moved over to me, and embraced me. He had likely heard the chattering of my teeth, and taken matters into his own hands, since I had been to frightened to budge.

Surprised, my body tensed up in an instant, I took in a large inaudible gasp, which filled my chest and pushed it out.

He slept only under a blanket, which made it easy for him to roll over, cloth bundled in arm, and partially cover me. He laid his arm over my chest protectively, though the rest of his body maintained a careful distance. Instantly I felt warmer, though not fully healed. If I had been glued down before, it was nothing compared to how stiff I had become. As if moving a single muscle might scare him off, break the spell.

Sir Jimmy was looking at me, I could tell, through hooded eyes, even though it had grown very dark now. He breathed somewhat heavier, he seemed, in a way, as tense as I. As if the wrong touch would send me flying from my sheets, and away into the night, carried off on a gust of wind.

We remained that way for a moment, unsure if to proceed.

I finally decided to pull gently at his arm, blanket and all, closer to me, to cover more of me. It did me little use the way he was covering me at present, it was either all or nothing.

As if it were the first stone that triggered an avalanche, with my pulling him closer, he wrapped me more tightly into his arms, and moved his body onto my cot, hugging me. He rested his head still on the ground, but bridged the vast gap between us, and his breath became more rapid.

He was drinking me in, with his eyes, with every baited breath he took, as if he were in disbelief at how soft I was to the touch, and how breakable. He studied my form, eyes trailing slowly all the way down, and then back up to my face lazily. He felt the intense urge to be even closer to me, closer than physically possible. I was ice cold, at first it was almost too cold for comfort, but Sir Jimmy could feel that any impact he made upon me quickly warmed up.

I did not dare move my head to the side, not even an inch, or I would come nearly face to face with him, maybe half an arm’s length between us. I could feel the soft, steam of his breath in the night air brush over my cheek.

His arm was heavy, and thicker than I had ever noticed. His track suit hid his toned figure very well, it was quite unflattering for his dreamy proportions, though otherwise a real winner. I could feel the weight of his muscles gently pressing down on me, and I locked my arms around his blanketed arm, enjoying the pressure it gave me. There was something incredibly comforting in it, the way it restrained me, hugging me to the ground.

„’Zat better?“

He breathed, so quietly that I had nearly not heard him. His breath was right on my ear, so close I could taste it. I nodded deeply, allowing myself to pull his body even closer to me, with a natural confidence the source of which I did not know. He was radiating heat onto me, it filled out the room under the covers. We were still separated as I was in my sleeping bag, yet it penetrated through the fabric onto me.

My mouth hung open lazily, as if in a trance, my chest rose and fell, all the while my heart beat so hard and so fast that I could imagine that Jimmy could feel it knock against his biceps. I tried to shake myself out of it, I wasn’t usually afraid of anything, why did the man I trusted most trigger such a fear in me, such a danger? Though it was not a regular type of fear, it felt good at the same time. And yet it blocked me from taking the actions I would want to take. I wanted to turn to him, fully, and wrap myself around him, cup his face into my hands, and kiss him deeply, and I wanted to taste him in my mouth, devour him, tangle my fingers through his golden hair, and I wanted to allow him to do with me what he wanted, but I was far too afraid still for any of it. Instead, I remained almost statuesque, I would have fit in nicely amongst the statues in my old room at the museum homestead.

Sir Jimmy did not take any more actions that were not initiated by me, enjoying the way my chest rose and fell, taking his arm along with it, hearing how I was clearly ramping up and getting more excited, he remained in the tight embrace, breathing heavily himself, looking at me through his pretty, deep set eyes, and he seemed content to remain like this.

He did not want to frighten me away, he did not want to change a thing about that moment.

After many minutes of this, him warming me up in his hug, he gently caressed me with the tips of his fingers, it was almost as if he were petting a tiny bird, and he only exerted the lightest feather touch, his fingers grazing over my shoulder, back and forth, only skirting the surface of my skin. I had always been incredibly ticklish, and I knew that the sensation would surely have been lesser if he had simply gently rubbed my skin, but I did not want him to stop either. I decided to fully concentrate on not shaking him off, a smile spread across my face, and I nestled deeper into my position, as if trying to get even more comfortable than I already was, melting into the ground, melting as the minutes passed, against Jimmy.

Sir Jimmy purred when he noticed this, humming in satisfaction at my enjoyment.

„Mmmmh….“

He went, as he continued to lightly pet me, and he closed his eyes for a moment, drinking me in.

Instinctively, as if to get a more comfortable hold on me, he drew one leg over me, it slowly settled into the indent one could feel in my sleeping bag between my legs. He rested on top of me, not between me, it was a quite innocent gesture that might not have even been done on purpose, but it instantly shot a sensation up my leg and between my thighs, like a lightning strike.

I tensed as I felt it, I was quickly reminded of the night before, when I was laying in my bed, alone, and felt a similar surge rise inside of me. A feeling only he had ever elicited. Only for the briefest of moments, I considered flexing my thighs together, I wanted to buck my hips, it felt natural, instinctive, I wanted nothing more than to do so, my biology was telling me, but I decided against it. Something about it seemed very wrong, and he would be able to feel me do it, and I did not want him to remove his leg just from the way it was, and at the same time I was frightened to escalate the precarious situation even further.

My lower stomach grew tense, as if clenching in anticipation, warmth building, and this he did feel, and he stopped caressing my shoulder. Instead, he readjusted the blanket, and excuse to peruse my form, and as he did, lightly grazed over my lower stomach. He breathed out against me, making a sound almost as if he were shocked. The same little gasp emitted from me, and I nestled back into position, trying to relax myself.

I had completely disregarded the fact that we had to be incredibly quiet, and was ripped from my thoughts which were so centered inside my body and thinking about him next to me, that I then listened if we had awoken anyone else. But the coast was clear.

Taking that short moment to think about the others, my mind started going. I thought about how earlier in the day he had been so cruel. How he had berated Jimmy Noose. How he had not been paying me much attention, or only did so at the very end. How he had snapped at Jimmy Junior at midday, and at Shite as he was preparing the fire. I pictured the way he had looked then, so cold, and so different, I couldn’t picture him as the same man laying next to me now, huddling for warmth. It was like I had observed in Jimmy Ink, that fear to show vulnerability. But now I had it, that sweet side of him, the real side.

And then he spoke.

„I want tae try something.“

He whispered, right into my ear, and my ear only. I held my breath. For the first time, of the entire night, I faced him. Turning ever so slowly and winding over in his arms, I saw him. He looked handsome, hair cascading out to the ground, face dappled by the clouds and cast in flattering shadows, holding me tight, his expression was calm and admiring.

I was almost afraid to ask what it was that he wanted to do, but it was the only natural thing to reply.

„What is it, Jimmy?“

I whispered back. I hardly recognized my own voice, it was breathy, far more grown up than I perceived myself, as if it belonged to someone else. I ascribed it to the night air again. I held my breath in anticipation for his reply.

„Father is speaking to me, he is bein incredibly loud. I cannae ignore him any longer. I want ye to place your forehead against mine and tell me if ye can hear him.“

He said.

„He’s deafenin.“

He breathed, his eyes were pleading, desperate. I was somewhat confused, as he had told me that he did not hear his father when he was with me, or most of the time, so perhaps this was one of the times where he was here with us. The thought of it was quite exciting, and nobody had ever been offered this gift, to be allowed to possibly hear Old Nick’s own words, and I gladly accepted. I inched closer, very slowly, and closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against that of Sir Jimmy. He breathed out, exasperated, but also as if a wave of relief had washed over him.

I listened for a while, wishing so desperately that I would be able to hear him, but there was nothing.

„I don’t hear him, Jimmy.“

I whispered, disappointed.

„Thats cause now he’s stopped talking again.“

Sir Jimmy explained under his breath. He barely needed to make a sound, he was now so close to me. His lips only inches from my own. I drew my head back from his again, there was no reason to remain forehead to forehead if Old Nick had gone, though I ached for the sensation the moment I had pulled back.

„What was he saying?“

I asked. Sir Jimmy raised one shoulder slightly, shrugging.

„I couldnae concentrate. It was deafening, yes, but I was also distracted.“

He didn’t need to say anything more. He drew out every word so clearly, looking deep into my eyes, that I understood. I seized the moment, resting my forehead against his again, finally feeling the confidence of knowing that I could do no wrong, no move of affection I made would have been denied by Jimmy, the least of which would be another forehead touch, at first hesitantly, then with full will, and he sighed, grinning.

He pulled me all the way closer to him by my waist, still separated by layers and layers of fabric, and he locked me into a deep embrace, right up to his chest. My neck crooked somewhat like a swan as he drew me closer, remaining face to face with him, and I had to smile too.

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 130k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Chapter 17 - Friction

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 17 - Friction

We were heading back now, slowly, as I had begun yawning, and my pace had become slower. I did not mean to show signs of becoming tired, but at some point I could not hold it in any longer. I wanted to keep going for as long as we could, but I also wanted to reach camp alive again. I assured Sir Jimmy that it was not the story that he was telling that had made me yawn, quite the opposite, it was exciting, and quite funny, but the walk had worked and had made me tired.

At first he seemed as if he did not believe me, he was always very quick to become offended, but then he paused, and seemed to manually reset his tone for me.

„Did it warm ye up, like I hoped?“

Sir Jimmy asked expectantly, but his question was basically answered with one look at me. I was still trembling, shivering, a wreck. Though the movement had given me some warmth, I was still far from comfortable, and now indeed afraid that I might catch a cold.

„I—“

I started, but there was no use denying what we could both see.

„Aw, tsk.“

Sir Jimmy crooked his head, stopping to examine me. He was playful with it, kissing his own teeth in judgment. Like I was some breakable thing. He seemed almost concerned for me, though he was never concerned for anyone but himself.

„Ye seem colder than when we first set out. Here.“

He stepped closer. I had half the mind to shy away from his touch, but I let him approach, too tired or too enamored to protest. He faced me and started rubbing my biceps over my sleeves, rhythmically.

„Works like makin’ a fire.“

He said, not giving me any other context. It did help a little, where his hands touched and moved, a sort of kindle was set ablaze, but much more than that I think it was his own body heat, so close to me, warming me up. Or perhaps it was the fact that whenever he looked at me, I melted before him, a warmth bloomed in my stomach as I remained under his gaze.

I stood there, taking it. I did not know what to do with myself other than to look at him, and he stared right back, concentrated and methodical, as he tried his hardest to get me to stop shivering. His eyes were round, kind. Caring, even.

„Can ye feel anythin’?“

He said, eyebrows knitted in focus. His fingers flexed and unflexed, I could even feel the ripples and slight tug of his heavy rings through my sleeve, lightly catching upon my skin.

He was so close now that I could smell him. Though the night air weakened it, I could sense his musk, a deep, rich flavor, that clung to his clothes and his hair. It was intoxicating. I did not often stand so close to him, I was the furthest on his fist after all, but it was a scent that always subtly surrounded me, and it drove me crazy. It was as if I was burying my face in his shirt again, only better, as he was in front of me, flesh and blood, and I did not have to pretend.

„Uh-huh.“

I said, low and small. It made him grin his golden teeth at me, now almost indistinguishable in the moonlight that dappled us through the pine trees. He looked almost normal, perhaps his smile was a little dark, nothing more. For their unhealthy color, I would have expected a far more rotten smell, but it was rather subdued. We all were used to not maintaining dental care, I had abandoned it almost completely recently, so I could hardly distinguish anything being wrong.

„Ye’ve stopped shakin’ at least…“

He said, trailing off. He thought for a moment, considering what exactly to say, though he was continuously working his hands up and down my arms. He was working with such fervor and such concentration that I began to wonder if he was trying to warm me up or set me on fire.

He seemed hesitant to say what he wanted to say, lips parting tentatively. I tried to communicate with just my eyes to him, that he could say whatever he liked to me. My eyes must have been as big as saucers, mirroring the moon in them, awaiting his voice with eagerness.

„Maybe if ye get cold again, ye should just come tae me, and I’ll warm ye up.“

He said, low, and careful. He had no regret in his eyes for saying it, but searched my expression for a response. His pace slowed down, almost stopping the caressing completely.

„Like this?“

I whispered, glancing down at his hands on my arms. He was steadying himself now, he seemed to have abandoned the action, getting lost in my eyes.

„Somethin’ like this.“

He removed his hands slowly, as if it were a job well done, and patted his hands to his sides. For the very first time, he seemed almost to look self-doubtful. I had never seen him in the state he was in.

He looked back up at the moon through the branches.

„We should get back, it’s gettin’ very late.“

He spoke, his voice far clearer and more serious than just moments ago, as if banishing thoughts from his mind. I wanted to say something more, but he seemed almost uncomfortable, as if he was troubling himself, imagining that he had gone too far, and I wanted to reassure him, but he was already moving for us to leave.

He took the lead again, and I cringed at how loud his steps were. I was still very aware of how vulnerable we were out here, we could not go racketeering through the brush without a care in the world, but Sir Jimmy seemed to be paying no mind to circumstances outside of his own brain.

I followed him, not matching the stride of his feet, but trailing closely behind. His words rang in my ears, his offer hanging in the air over us. I felt like I had not shown enough enthusiasm for the idea, though that was not the issue. I had been caught completely off guard, I was elated, so much in fact that I placed my hand upon my knife behind my back and pricked the tip of it into my finger to make sure that I was not asleep and dreaming this entire thing up. But no, it was real, a bead of blood gushed from my index finger, which I wiped onto a nearby leaf.

I could not help but smile to myself. If there was a possibility that spending time alone with Sir Jimmy could become a nightly occurrence, instead of the rare, far and in-between chances so far, I would be the happiest woman on the entire mainland. I hoped for many more cold nights, in which I would need warming up, in whatever way he wanted to offer.

Periodically, Sir Jimmy would look back to me and check if I was still behind him. He caught me smiling to myself, and quickly faced forward again. I could see his right hand flexing once or twice. He was excited too. He seemed almost afraid of me, though. Or perhaps afraid of the consequences of his own words.

When we got back to camp, everyone was still fast asleep. Jimmy Ink was snoring on her face, arms hugging her pillow, her back rising and falling slowly in deep slumber.

I padded over to my cot, and ever so quietly slipped under my blanket, successfully staying nearly completely silent. Sir Jimmy did not share my level of concern, rolling onto his own bed a few spaces down the line, and we did not speak another word, both trying our best to slip into dreams.

Finally, I was granted the release and rest of the night, my lips parted as I breathed hot air in and out. The moon was almost down, I would only be able to get a few more hours of sleep, but it was better than nothing.

Jimmy Ink lifted her head, her wig askew and flattened around her face, but her large, dark eyes shone in the night, scanning me, watching me. Her mind was racing, but she did not wake me. She decided that she would keep this to herself, for now.

—

We trekked along the very same cliffs that we had had our walk along the next day, it looked vastly different in the sunlight. I trailed behind all the others again, except of course for Jimmy Noose, exhausted, deflated. I did not do well if I had not slept much, though I would gladly trade in rest for more time spent like last night.

I had dark, puffy under-eyes, the muscles in my face seemed to sag, and my back was killing me. My body had not been granted a full reset from the long day before, and it was letting me know that with every single step of the way.

Jimmy Ink had woken up very spry, she and Jimmy Jam had been the most consistent hunters over the winter, so her body was still well acclimated to travel. She had been walking by Sir Jimmy’s side, but now fell back into a slower trot to walk next to me.

„Ye look like shite.“

She joked, examining me up and down. When I did not offer her any response, she punched me softly in my shoulder.

„It was a joke. Did ye not get any sleep?“

She said casually. I thought fast.

„Aye, I did, but I was riddled with nightmares.“

I said, trying to sound just as casual as she had, picking up right where she stopped.

„Oh no, what about?“

She asked in rapid-fire tempo. She widened her eyes. This time I was not able to match her speed. I thought for just a second too long before answering.

„I don’t even want tae think about it anymore, don’t fash yerself about me.“

I drawled, which seemed to be enough to satisfy Jimmy Ink. She shrugged.

„Same here, I was dreamin’ about somethin’ nasty, but now I cannae remember what exactly it was.“

She sounded sincere. It was rare that she would admit to fears. I tried not to make a big deal out of it, simply nodding along. I usually enjoyed the rare times that she would initiate conversation, but it might have been due to my lack of sleep that I did not feel like talking much, which she sensed, and she left me alone, instead catching up to Jimmy Cornetto and Sir Lord Jimmy to keep a lookout once more.

Jimmy Noose was banished to the back of the pack once more, obeying the rule Sir Jimmy had set. I glanced back at him, sending him consoling glances, which he would gruffly turn away from. He was proud, and did not accept my sympathy. But nonetheless I gave it to him. I had learned over the years that he was a bit of a softie inside, but that he detested showing it. I could only imagine how isolating and uncomfortable his nights alone from us were, and added on top of that he was sick, I would not wish it upon my worst enemy.

We were just passing through the old ruins of a castle when we froze in our tracks, a terrible scream echoing through the dilapidated walls.

Sir Jimmy spun around on his heel, positioning himself in the middle of the group, assessing where the sound was coming from.

In an instant, we had our weapons drawn. Jimmy Noose had quickened his pace and was now taking his rightful place in the row, brandishing his javelin. We were all on edge, but not from fear, there was an excitement that hovered in the air, a sense of adventure. Finally, some demons to play with, was what we were all thinking.

I gave my bat a few test swings, alternating it between my right and left hand. Jimmy Ink gripped her knife and stood squarely, head snapping back and forth.

The scream had ceased, and yet it echoed longer. It was an Alpha, a female Alpha, towering, clothesless.

Just as we were wondering why there had only been that singular screech, a choir of yells filled the ruins, and demons came swarming in from every direction, flailing their arms and screaming bloody murder at us.

The Alpha stayed back, as if surveying her own fleet of demons, spreading herself out in an archway above us, but more than a stone’s throw away.

„Hold…“

Sir Jimmy commanded, relaxed. Yet his eyes lit up with lust, at the idea of witnessing violence again, finally. In his mind he was picturing the squelching of blood, snapping of limbs, tearing of skin, and it took everything in him not to show it. He wanted to draw the moment out as long as he could before it began, as such fights were often over in a heartbeat.

The demons drew closer,

„Hold…“

He continued. I was itching to get my bat dirty, as were the others. Finally, some real fun. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, I wiggled my toes in anticipation, like a chained dog, snapping at a squirrel.

Sir Jimmy was still not letting us begin, he was cutting it incredibly close now, toying with our patience just to keep himself satisfied. He glanced deviously between us and the assailants, calculating just how much further he could let them approach before they would tear us to shreds.

„…Fucking go.“

Sir Jimmy ordered, and we were cut loose.

I overextended my arms above my head, and swung as hard as I could straight at the melon head of the closest demon, sending it splattering onto the wall behind it. I could only focus on my own fighting. I hoped that there were enough demons to go around for everyone, so we might have the pleasure of slaughtering multiple each.

I was not so much obsessed with the actual squelching, cutting, hitting and gurgling as I was with the idea that Old Nick was watching us, eager to see us fulfill his mission, that he would be proud of us and rejoicing from his noble throne.

I spied another, charging at me, and I kicked it in the chest, sending it toppling to the ground. I took some space to run at the wall, placed a foot securely onto the top and flipped over it, landing with both feet on the demon’s head, crushing it to a pulp.

I took a moment to wipe my feet onto the grass, sneakers ruined but clear evidence of my accomplishment, and took a moment to see how the others were faring.

Jimmy Jam did a leap kick off a wall, landing on the shoulders of a demon, and proceeded to stab into the top of its head, almost steering it with the remaining muscle spasms emitting from the spine to the rest of the body.

„Gorgeous, Jimmy Jam!“

Sir Jimmy shouted, applauding her. He clapped his hands together loudly to punctuate his words, the sound of it echoed through the ruins, louder than the rest of the fighting.

She smiled wide at the praise, and I felt a sudden pang in my chest. My cheeks glowed red, I had just executed two beautiful kills, where was my praise? Had he seen it, or did he miss it? And why was he watching her, and not me? I looked around desperately for another demon to kill, swinging my bat in circles in anticipation, but everyone was busy with their own, and it was bad form to steal someone else’s kill.

Defeated, I returned to formation. Maybe the screeches would attract more demons, I hoped. So I scanned the area.

Jimmy Noose was cornered at the far end of the ruins, his javelin bloody. He had managed to kill one demon, but he seemed out of breath, and was doubled over. He pressed the javelin against two competing demons, warding them both off, but only barely. They tried to reach over and grab at him incessantly, grubby hands clawing and clawing, leaving dark red streaks all over his bright green tracksuit.

Sir Jimmy also took notice of this happening. He saw that I was making moves to go toward him and help, but Sir Jimmy held up a hand to me in a „halt“ motion, and I stopped.

„What’s wrong, Jimmy Noose? Ye cannae finish those two cunts off yerself?“

He teased, amused by the entire scene before him. As if Jimmy Noose’s survival was a game. Sir Jimmy maintained a clear distance from the demons and Jimmy Noose, not wanting to accidentally attract them to himself, but offered no instruction either.

„I cannae, sir. I can—“

Jimmy Noose huffed, his cheeks ballooning at his sharp intakes of air, he was bright red. The muscles in his fingers were nearly popping as he kept pressing the javelin away from his torso.

„Help me.“

He pressed out. I became concerned. A fellow finger needed my help, and we were always supposed to help each other. That was what we always said, what we were preached.

Sir Jimmy’s hand remained raised, curious as to what would happen with sick Jimmy Noose. He looked almost excited at the prospect of seeing him torn to shreds. And yet he was once his right-hand man. Then something in Sir Jimmy shifted, and he lowered his hand.

„Help the poor shite.“

He told me, and I sprang into action, clobbering the two demons over the head to at least remove them from the javelin barricade, and then I pulled out my knife, slicing them both simultaneously across the throat, so that they spurted and sputtered and died at the same time before me, spasming on the ground. Jimmy Noose collapsed into himself. I left him there, bashing the demons’ brains in with my bat for good measure. I made a real meal out of it, to hopefully entertain Sir Jimmy. To perhaps earn me a compliment as well.

Sir Jimmy was not watching again, he had not seen the double slice. I was becoming frustrated. He had set his attention to Jimmy Cornetto and Jimmy Ink, who were at the same time bringing the Alpha to her knees. Cornetto had lassoed her with his long wire rope, and Jimmy Ink was slashing parts of her body open, bleeding her out, as Cornetto tightened the rope around her neck, as if to make her head pop off. Lastly, they pushed her out of the arch, letting her dangle and drip buckets of blood onto the ground below.

Sir Jimmy sauntered closer, whistling one long tone in approval.

„Outstanding work, Fingers.“

He said. I tried to swallow my pride, kicked Jimmy Noose softly, and helped him join back in the ranks.

„Come on, get up.“

I hissed. I meant to motivate him, but feared that I sounded too harsh. Although, Jimmy Noose had never taken a kind tone with me either.

Sir Jimmy turned to us all, the Alpha dangling behind him like a decoration, and was about to speak when his eyes widened as he looked over me. He paused, his fingers already pointed down and lax at his sides as he was surely about to go off into some long spiel, when he stopped in his tracks.

He gestured with his hand for me to move away, to abandon Jimmy Noose.

„Get the fuck away from him, he’ll get ye sick.“

He said curtly, though his voice was laced with concern. I obeyed, immediately dropping Noose from resting on my shoulder, and moving to the far side of the formation.

„Fucksake, how many times dae I have tae tell ye tae stay away from the other Fingers, Noose?“

He said, nostrils flaring. His eyes darted between me and Jimmy Noose, as if he could physically see the sickness trying to spread from him onto me.

Again, he flitted his hands in Noose’s direction, until he moved back even further.

„Ye couldnae even handle two demons just then, what use are ye tae Old Nick anymore?“

He was getting angry, words sharp and cutting. If he were in a different state, surely Sir Jimmy would have stepped threateningly close to Jimmy Noose, but he remained distant, and ushered us others to do the same.

„He needs medicine, sir.“

Jimmy Ink spoke up. She was never afraid to be somewhat out of line. She had stepped out of rank, and was looking straight at Sir Jimmy. I did not know where she got such courage from, I envied her for it.

Sir Jimmy shot her a wicked glare. He hated being interrupted, and insubordination was even worse. He did not seem like the same man at all, his eyes almost a different shade from last night. He always seemed as if he were replaced by a twin when he was addressing the entire group, compared to only talking to me, when he knew that nobody was watching.

He considered her words for quite a long while.

He walked over to Jimmy Ink now, hands clasped behind his back, and looked her over. He was breathing heavily, unable to hide his disdain. He was taller than her, and used that to his advantage, looking down upon her, making her work extra hard to maintain her confidence as she faced him.

„And what, pray tell, medicine dae ye suggest if we dinnae even know what he is sick with?“

He hissed, crooking his head menacingly.

„We could ask Old Nick.“

Jimmy Ink offered, her voice a little more shaky than moments before, but her eyes showed no fear.

Sir Jimmy paused at this, thinking hard.

„Aye, aye, I suppose we could do that.“

He began to pace back to his original position in front of the mutilated Alpha. He took a long look at Jimmy Noose, hunkered over on the floor, trying his best not to cough and failing miserably.

„It would derail us from our path tae go searchin’ for medicine. If we happen upon a pharmacy along the way, I will ask Father. If it is his will that Noose is healed, he will provide us that.“

He simply said, flexing his hands angrily.

„Howzat?“

„Howzat.“

We echoed, though none of us were feeling too tickled to shout it back. I still felt hurt from before, how twice he had missed my kills and had watched others and praised them, and I was concerned for Noose, and the others were likely wondering what were to happen if they were punished with sickness like he had been. There was a general sense of unrest, which Sir Jimmy did not alleviate with a story this time, he let us bathe in it.

He looked all of us over. Each one individually, nobody said a word, waiting for his next command.

„Ye did a wonderful job on the kills though, also you, Jimmy Bat, dinnae think I didnae notice.“

His tone had changed, and he raised one index finger to the sky, and the other to the left.

„Father is very pleased wi’ the rest of ye.“

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 130k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Chapter 16 - In Moonlight

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 16 - In Moonlight

I could not really see him well, he had a very heavy, handsome brow that shielded his eyes from the pale moonlight. His face was completely cast in shadows, all except for his bright eyes, which shone like a nocturnal animal. He really was the son of Old Nick, he had an air about him. I would never tell him this, so as not to offend, but it was almost angelic.

His ridiculous tiara sparkled as he crooked his head slightly at my words. I was trying to be as quiet as I could, not wanting to wake any others, but I was sure that he had been able to hear me. Between us lay Jimmy Ink, Jimmy Junior, and Jimmy Jam, the latter two embracing, and they did seem fast asleep, and it was a state I did not wish to change.

As he crooked his head, some of the shadows disappeared from his face, I could now tell that he was almost studying me.

“Somethin’ troublin’ ye, lassie?”

He spoke, low and careful. He rarely asked any of us how we were feeling, it was an unfamiliar sensation. I did not know what to say. I did not know why I could not sleep, my mind had been racing all evening, flooded with his image, but I could never admit to that.

“The moon’s too bright, I feel like I can still see it even when I bury my face in my pillow.”

I said instead, a half truth.

“Aye…”

Sir Jimmy agreed, nodding his head slowly and glancing up at the moon.

“But it’s pretty, isnae it?”

He mused.

I didn't answer, the remaining chemicals from my exploration were making my mind fuzzy, like I couldn’t think straight. And any added word from my side could lead the others to wake up, so I decided not to say anything.

We remained like this, in silence, for a couple of moments. Sir Jimmy sizing up the moon, me transfixed by him, and I had to wonder what he might be seeing in it.

“Father’s been chattin’ tae me all night. He’s been talkin’ ma ear off. But right now, he’s completely quiet.”

He said, out of nowhere. I popped my eyebrows, I was quite surprised. I did not think that Old Nick was awake with us. But it would make sense, nighttime was his domain, and perhaps he did not need sleep at all, like us humans did.

“What’s he tellin’ ye, if I may ask?”

I probed.

Sir Jimmy turned to me, lingered a moment before speaking.

“He’s been givin’ me instructions on where tae lead ye. Describin’ the trail. But he willnae tell me why we’re goin’ tae that… place.”

He seemed almost frightened to speak the last part, exhausted by the idea of it. In daytime he had seemed so convinced, but now I sensed some trepidation. His entire body seemed tense now, he was subtly flexing his fingers and fiddling with his blanket.

“Ye know, whenever I speak wi’ ye, Jimmy Bat, the old man simmers down. It feels nice tae have some peace and quiet fer a change.”

He went on, looking at me. I felt as if I shrank under his gaze, my arm slowly growing weary from propping myself up, and I was unsure what to do with that statement. Was it meant as a compliment, or simply an observation? Equally, I could not believe it to be true, and to me it didn’t seem like a purely good thing. What if Satan wanted to relay something important and felt crowded out by me? Why me?

“Me, sir?”

I asked, only a breath, so as not to stir anyone. But Jimmy Ink did, she grumbled something and adjusted her shoulder, then fell back into her quiet, deep breathing.

Both mine and Sir Jimmy’s attentions had been placed swiftly upon her, and now back to each other.

He dodged the question, resuming his viewing of the moon. He seemed pensive, hesitant. He fiddled with his blanket once more, his rings catching the moonlight beautifully, like little crystals.

He noticed that I was admiring his jewelry and huffed, grinning.

“Bonnie, eh?”

He extended his fingers, examining his own hands, twisting and turning them a little.

“Ye wannae take a closer look?”

He said coolly.

I did, but I did not want to agree, it would mean silently trying to stand up, walk over three Jimmies, and then possibly awkwardly cower there next to him, but on the other hand I wanted nothing more than to admire his rings, of course. His question wasn’t one I could say no to anyway; he would surely get quite offended if I did. I was left with no other choice but to nod and carefully slip out of my cot.

It was easier than expected to slalom between the others over to him, the cheap plastic fabric of my tracksuit rustled at my every move, but nobody stirred. Sir Jimmy watched me, awaiting me with big eyes, he looked almost childlike, sitting there patiently. His hand was still extended, and he was adjusting his rings, making them presentable.

I reached his cot and placed my knees down at the end of it, sitting on the balls of my feet, thighs resting upon my shins, and propping myself up on my arms. I was close enough to fulfill his request while maintaining a respectful distance.

“What are ye so afraid of?”

He laughed under his breath, beckoning me closer.

“I dinnae bite.”

He said. A loaded statement. He was unpredictable, he would fly off the handle at random sometimes, I had seen it. It didn’t happen to me as frequently, although many a time we as a group would get the brunt of it, or I would be caught in some crossfire of verbal abuse or throwing, nobody was safe. I did feel a tremendous distance between us still, as if he might chomp off my hand if I were to offer it to him. And yet he looked at me so calm, so welcoming, that it was hard to imagine the same face curled up into a wicked grin of lust that it bore when we would skin our victims alive.

I inched a bit closer, this action was quite loud, and Jimmy Junior moved a little, adjusting his grip upon Jimmy Jam’s waist. Sir Jimmy put up his hand in front of me as if to say “halt,” and I stayed where I was. He remained that way for a moment, assessing if Jimmy Junior would awake, and when he did not, he relaxed his hand and showed it to me to collect my admiration.

It was common for Sir Jimmy to showcase his jewels, usually to strangers before killing them. He would have them kiss his fingers, as they were then simultaneously sliced open. Or he would make one of us Jimmies brush his hair, as the others watched or resumed other tasks, and he would bask in compliments and the attention.

He seemed to be expecting the same from me now, awaiting my reaction. I had never gotten a good long look at his rings myself, I gently took his hand into mine and let my fingers graze over the gold rings. Some had stones, some seemed more worn than others, but they were all of equal beauty.

“Quite somethin’, aren’t they?”

He breathed, mouth hanging somewhat open, so that I could see the lower row of his teeth. He looked at me through his brows, his head tilted slightly down. I smiled and nodded my head once, yes, and moved his hand slightly to make them glitter in the light.

“Breathtakin’, Sir. They suit ye.”

I whispered. I did not know what more to say without sounding too obsessed, though he would have probably found no end to compliments he would want, but I did not want to seem as desperate as I knew I was on the inside.

I slowly reached for his other hand, examining it as well.

“…lovely…”

I muttered. I could have looked at them forever. I could have stayed in this perfect moment forever. He seemed unmasked, and the night seemed vast and bottomless, there was no noise but that of our breath and the crickets, and the Jimmies gently rustling in their sleep.

“Very lovely.”

Sir Jimmy said. I did not dare look up. I could not see where he was looking, if he was following my gaze down to his hands, simply commenting on his own rings, or if it was what I hoped, what I wished for, that he might be looking over me, intending the words for my own ears, and I could not bring myself to confirm or deny my suspicions, simply savoring the thought of it, for it would crush me if it weren’t the case. I granted him the ambiguity of the word, examining the rings closer, closer than I needed to, lingering on them and stroking one of them delicately, suddenly becoming very aware of my own breathing, and trying to keep it at an equal pace.

“Ye once told me, a long time ago, that I was this,”

I touched it,

“Finger upon yer fist.”

I let my fingers graze over the pretty gold ring upon it, it had the tiniest indent of a rose carved into it.

Sir Jimmy withdrew his hands from me, leaning back onto his palms, and knitted his brows together. I relaxed my position as well, on the inside I was crestfallen that I had triggered the moment of me holding his hands to end.

He seemed to be trying to recall the exact conversation and was coming up empty. He was tapping his teeth lightly with his fingers, eyes searching through the night.

“I did?”

He spoke, low. It saddened me somewhat that he could not remember, but it didn’t surprise me, it had been many years ago. I sort of slumped together.

“Ye had told me I was yer pinky finger, fragile but necessary. And that ye wore yer favourite ring on it.”

I said, somewhat ashamed of myself for recalling it all so vividly, a mantra, almost, and him having seemingly no memory of it. I often thought about that day, that talk, it motivated me. Whenever the other Jimmies did something better I thought, well, at least I am the most valuable finger upon his holy fist. The last puzzle piece for our infernal mission.

„Ah, I dae remember. I only didnae remember ‘cause it was ma other hand I was referrin’ tae.“

He now recalled. He gave me back his other hand, leaning forward again. It bore an even lovelier ring, the gold itself seemed even richer, shinier, more expensive. His hands were warm, as if he himself produced a heat within him, like a fire. Quite opposite to my own hands, which he must have felt were cold to the touch. He had rough skin, and dirty, short fingernails, a stark contrast to the polished rings. He spent far more time maintaining his suit, tiara and jewelry, and combing his hair, than anything else physical.

„And what I told ye way back when was true. Then. Ye arenae as fragile anymore.“

He said, slowly. Drawing out every word. My heart bloomed, I held gently onto his hand again, this time trying to enjoy it all the more. He seemed to be emitting his heat onto me.

He did remember. I could not even control it, a smile spread across my face, and I had to avert my gaze, it was becoming all too much. It was another upon the heap of flattery he was giving me, and I was bad at accepting such a thing. I tried not to beam, but it escaped me. He caught my eye, delighted by my reaction, wanting more.

„Dinnae be shy again. I only speak the truth. I am many things, but not a liar.“

Sir Jimmy said, pulling my face back around with a soft graze to my jaw. He was handling me like a baby bird, as if afraid to drop me, or taint me in some way.

We looked at each other for a very long time, letting the night slip by. I could have remained like this ad infinitum. A saying which I had adopted from him.

Clouds cast over the full moon, briefly, darkening the world for a moment, though the light in his clear eyes did not fade, and then the moon shone again. Neither of us felt the need to speak, we simply remained this way. An unspoken promise to draw time out for as long as possible.

A gust of wind gathered, carrying frost with it, reminding me that it had only just become spring, and the night still thought that it was winter. I tried my best to suppress my shivering, but soon it was impossible to hide. It came from my core, I only now noticed how I was chilling from the inside out. Sir Jimmy’s clothing was far warmer, and he did not seem to share my troubles, but could see that I was cloaking my evident freezing.

„Yer tremblin’.“

He simply said, though his expression did not change.

„Yer tremblin’ like a leaf. I dinnae want ye tae freeze, or worse, catch a cold like Jimmy Noose.“

He said, not realizing how scary that thought truly was, a threat almost. I did not want to be punished like Jimmy Noose, and trail behind the group like an isolated demon.

„I’m okay, maybe I should-“

I started, but he intercepted my words.

„We should move. We should take a stroll. I dinnae think either of us will sleep soon, and we should tire ourselves out. Get the blood pumpin’.“

He raised his brows in question. When I did not answer in any big way, he automatically took that as a yes, rose to his feet, and offered me his hand to help me up.

I hesitated for just a moment. I would have suggested that I return to my sleeping bag, but this seemed far superior. I clasped my hand in his, and was quickly hoisted up, and we carefully stepped between the sleeping bags all around us, and away from the circle. He guided me by my hand, leading the way all the while until we were clear. The curve of my hand immediately ached for his touch the moment he let me go. He got busy adjusting his tiara, and flexed his back muscles in a stretch.

„There’s a cliffside along here, we can walk there.“

He decided, and did not wait for me to follow him. He always had a sort of careless, casual walk, slightly kicking his feet out and sauntering, aided even more in appearance by his joggers which pulled his entire figure down, to give a very nonchalant appearance. I usually walked with far more energy, wired to stay alert for any type of disturbance, like a demon or a stranger. And usually I did not ever go anywhere without my bat in hand, twirling it around or letting it pass front to back and back to front through my fingers. I felt completely naked without it. Like something was missing from my picture.

I wondered, if we were to be ambushed, whether I would be protecting Sir Jimmy, or if he would be protecting me. I had not seen him fight in a very long time, there rarely was any necessity to, but he was the one who had taught us in the first place, and he used to be a great warrior, quick. But both of us only armed with our concealed knives seemed unwise. I decided that we would have to remain very quiet, and that I would only be able to listen to him with half an ear, the other ear to the ground for any sign of danger. If we were attacked, he should live, and I would sacrifice myself. A fist could exist without a finger, but a finger could not exist without a fist, like he always said.

He did not seem to share my concern. Once we were out of earshot of the others, he began speaking at almost full volume, though there was a warmer, slower tinge to his voice than usual. Or rather, the loss of the edge he usually had.

„Is the world always this quiet?“

He asked me, assuming I was right behind him. I flinched at the volume he was speaking at. I listened for demons, but heard nothing. I shot him a questioning glance.

„How dae ye mean?“

I answered back, confused. It was not quiet at all, there was an incessant owl, crickets, water off in the distance, twigs snapping, and us disturbing the forest ground.

„Father isnae speakin’ tae me right now, the air feels sae empty without him guidin’ me.“

He elaborated, massaging his chin with his fingers as if deep in thought.

„It’s always like this fer me.“

I went,

„I cannae imagine what it’s like tae have someone speakin’ tae ye all day, wherever ye go.“

I was afraid that I had overstepped, perhaps even insulted Satan, but nothing came of it. Sir Jimmy only laughed, a wheezing, almost hoarse laugh.

„It can be tricky. It’s not fer everyone, I’ll tell ye that, Jimmy.“

He let out another tired laugh, and then we both fell silent, neither of us knowing how to go on. His voice was starting to become weakened by the night air, but I found that it suited him. He already had a nice, deep timbre, but the hoarseness added another layer of beauty to it.

„Ye remind me of my aunt sometimes, ye know that?“

He said out of the blue. I was now matching foot to foot with him, trying to keep his stride. He had one hand in his pant pocket, the other somewhat raised next to him, like usual, gesturing as he spoke. At some points it was dangerously close to brushing me, and I would walk a little further from him, not sure I would be able to take any more physical contact with him for now.

And yet I smiled, even if a little confused in what way I might be similar to his aunt.

„Ye once told us she was befallen by demons on Judgement Day.“

I said, it was one of the only details I could recall.

„A different aunt, I had two. This one was fierce, and I never know what became o’ her. We can go by her house when we travel up north, I’ll try tae find a picture tae show ye. She had a wee baby then, I even held it once.“

His eyes were fixed to some point far in the distance as he spoke, recalling long-buried memories. It did not necessarily seem like he was happy to remember it all, he looked almost frustrated. His free hand began massaging the Petrine cross on his necklace, he did this sometimes for comfort.

I imagined young Sir Jimmy trying to hold a newborn, nearly melting at the thought of it. Then I imagined the woman and her newborn fighting for their lives against the demons, and a cold shudder ran down my back. She would have been in the same situation my own mother had been in with me.

I did not want to probe any further, though I would have been very interested to see what he meant. Whether he meant that I was fierce, and with that he was reminded of her, or if it was purely visual. And then I was dampened, because I realized that perhaps he only spent time with me, and treated me with a sometimes kinder rule, because I was similar to someone from his family. Not because I myself was truly special. Maybe that was why he equated me to his pinky.

Sir Jimmy broke his trance of remembrance, and scanned me, realizing he might have offended me, though he was not sure why exactly.

„Ye know, that reminds me o’ an old story, about a yellow lad who lived in the ocean. He lived in a house shaped like a pineapple, hae I ever told ye that one?“

He started, seemingly trying to uplift my spirits, or just change the topic.

He had told us this story many times, and all the adventures that the fellow went on. They were some of my favorites, though they were less stories and often Sir Jimmy could not recall how they ended or what their lesson was, many of them being more nonsense than anything else, but that was why I liked them so. He spoke much more often of the Teletummies or Power Rangers, but he knew I would laugh the hardest at the adventures of the yellow man and his friends.

A smile spread across my face, which in turn steadied him once more. He released the cross from his index finger and thumb, and put both hands in his pockets.

„Go on.“

I said. I was happy to switch the subject. Happy to even just be there, walk with him. He could have spoken about just about anything and I would have been content to listen.

„Well, it was a night quite similar tae this, when-“

—

Jimmy Ink thrashed, she wound herself back and forth until her body woke her up from her own movements, she was having a nightmare. Her eyes flew open, and instinctively she grabbed at her back to draw out her knife.

Once, she had had such a bad nightmare that she woke up, climbed atop Jimmy Bat and held a knife to her throat before she could even think clearly, but had snapped out of it just in time.

She looked over at Jimmy Bat, wanting reassurance, but her cot was empty.

Jimmy Ink rose up fast, scanning the campsite. No sign of her. They seemed like only so few, without Jimmy Noose here. And Sir Lord Jimmy was missing too. Alarm bells rang in Jimmy Ink’s mind, but she tried to remain calm. There was no sign of demons, no sign of people, so there had to be another explanation. Perhaps they had left, each on their own or together, to go to the bathroom, that was not unheard of. But usually Jimmy Bat would wake her to be her partner, not any other Jimmy, especially not their leader. It was odd.

Jimmy Ink was unsure what to do. Should she look for them, try to track them down? Or should she perhaps wake the others? Or was there no threat at all?

6.4k words

Brett x Reader

Summary: You and a friend take a much needed summer vacation to Eden Lake. You meet a group of people your age who start to incite a fight, it escalates, you are separated from your friend and Brett chases you, but he has other intentions…

(Aged up characters)

Tags: Penis In Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Name-Calling, Watersports, Pissing Inside Someone, Porn With Plot, Doggy Style, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Oral Sex

Notes: Something a little different for you all! :) I am deep deep deep in my Jack O’Connell obsession and I fall in love with every single one of his characters… like Brett. I must admit it has been a very long time since I watched Eden Lake and I forgot he was a teenager in that one, but I love how evil and sadistic he is and the setting in general, so he is aged up in this. I imagine this is what he would be like as an adult, this fic plays 5 years after the timeline of the film !

I hope you all enjoy, I know I did ;)

Girls Trip

Maybe it wasn’t smart. Maybe we were naive, young. But the idea had just been too tempting. A spontaneous summer vacation, just the two of us, no guys allowed.

My friend Isabella pried my oversized bag from my grip and threw it onto the pile of things we had already thrown in the back.

„What are you planning for, the apocalypse?“

She laughed, pushing the bag deeper with her elbow for good measure. Our car was so full that I almost feared by adding a bag on this end, we might pop out the windshield in the front.

„What? It’s two whole weeks! I need at least five outfits. Then there’s gear, sunscreen, towels-“

I started, but she cut me off with a sigh.

„Yeah yeah yeah, yada yada yada. You’ve convinced me. That was the last one, let’s go!“

She said, slamming the trunk shut. It was an old Mercedes that her father let us use. So old in fact, that the trunk slam sounded unhealthy, borderline hazardous. If I slammed the passenger’s side door shut in the same way, the car might not even start.

I gathered my limbs into the front seat and rested my feet on the dashboard, all I wore were pink jelly sandals, they made a funny sound on the wood interior. It was so hot that they nearly melted right off of my feet.

Isabella had already stuck the key in the ignition, but she hesitated to start the car. She shot me a hard side eye- first right at me, then directed at my feet.

„A-HEM!“

She went, and I quickly put my feet down.

„What? I was just trying to get in the… road trip spirit.“

I justified, smiling sheepishly.

„Have you ever seen those X-Rays of car crash victims who had their feet up on the dash during the collision?“

She paused, looking at me with a tilted head, so that her eyes peered over her sunglasses. She was in full mom-friend mode.

„Foot. In. Throat. 'Nuff said.“

And with that she started the old shitbox, and we roared off, leaving dark brown clouds of angry dirt behind us.

It was quite a long drive. We passed through a few villages, until it had been half an hour of pure green, when finally a sign popped up. Our destination. Eden Lake.

It wasn’t a long thought out plan to go here, Isabella had just been dumped, HARD, and I suggested that we go away for a while so that we could spend some quality girl time together, away from men and drama, and she mentioned that she had heard of a place called Eden Lake. A quick google search led us both to articles about assaults and robberies, and bodies found in the forest near the lake, and old police reports, but that was more than five years ago, and there hadn’t been that much in recent years, so we decided it wasn’t going to be a problem for us. We didn’t have many other options either, we were broke and couldn’t exactly afford to rent a camping spot anywhere else.

„Besides, it could be fun. We could put on a horror film and watch it in the car, at night, with the doors unlocked.“

I had suggested. We did that sometimes, though that was usually in my van. We and a guy friend, who we had purposefully not invited so that it remained a pure girls trip, would drive deep into the forest and cuddle up in the back with blankets and pillows, leave the doors unlocked and watch some random, bad horror film on my laptop, and freak each other out by tapping on the door behind us or grabbing each others legs when the movie got quiet. Isabella was down for the idea, both of us being more or less thrill seekers.

We pulled into a little clearing past the sign that read Eden Lake. There were clear, dedicated spots, though overgrown with grass and weeds, for other cars, but they all remained empty. Maybe we did luck out, maybe we were the only ones camping here. It was still early summer, perhaps there were more tourists in the late summer months.

Our luck changed when we unpacked our things, each grabbing as many bags and iceboxes as we could carry, and schlepped them down to the lake. We could hear them even before we could see them. Terrible, muffled music droned from an old boombox. Brit-rap, my least favorite genre. I always made a big scene out of changing channels when brit-rap songs came on the radio. Especially now, Isabella’s ex had been trying to become a rapper, and I could only imagine how much it was triggering her.

The boombox belonged to a group of campers, though they hardly looked like they were camping here at the lake. There was a young man sitting right by the boombox, clearly in charge of selecting the terrible music, and three more guys, a young woman and a big black dog. The group looked to be in their early twenties, just like Isabella and me.

We smiled shortly at them as we passed by them, even if we had said hello or introduced ourselves the music would have drowned us out.

I took note of the young man by the boombox and the dog. He was striking, he had a very pleasing face, a strong jawline, big blue eyes that seemed to undress us as we walked by, a muscular figure which lay slack in the dark sand, and an air of arrogance that I can’t deny I usually found myself very attracted to.

I was suddenly very conscious of how short my skirt was, and how it had ridden up during the car ride and our walk over here with or bags, and I didn’t have a hand free to readjust myself. I could practically feel his eyes caressing my ass as we walked away from them, and as if programmed not to, I didn’t dare look back at them.

We dumped our things on the ground on the furthest stretch of beach away from them, though it wasn’t enough. Their deafening brit-rap penetrated the otherwise calm air of the lake with ease, thumping into our already exhausted skulls.

We made our second trip, briefly debating if we should leave our things unattended and deciding it would have to be okay, and schlepped the rest of our things out of the car to our spot. This time I readjusted my skirt before I grabbed my bags, but by the time we were back at the beach it had pretty much ridden up all the way again. I walked slightly in front of Isabella, so that when we passed them, it would be harder for them to see.

I nodded to the group politely when we walked past them, and the young man by the boombox, who had been eye fucking us since we got here, gave me a little smile. He had crooked teeth, a snaggle tooth on the left side stood out especially, and his face shifted from something I had first perceived as quite grimm and even mean looking into a much sweeter one. Maybe they wouldn’t be such an issue.

He waved at me, though I couldn’t tell by his overly friendly expression if he was being genuine, in which case he would seem almost dim, or if it was supposed to be mocking me.

We sat at our nook, trying to ignore them. Isabella shot me another side eye, which I gladly accepted, offering her one back. It was unbearable. And she surely didn’t have an ounce of sympathy for them, being deep in her man hating era at the moment. And with every passing minute, I was joining her more and more. The guys lazed about, shouting over each other and the music, hollering and screaming about mindless things, they smoked joints, and drank from their bottomless supply of warm beers. The woman who was with them seemed to join in the fun, but she looked stiffer than the rest.

Isabella had spread out her towel, adjusted her sunglasses and laid down to tan, while I was sketching a few things in my notepad. Mainly I was trying to capture the pretty scene, the lake, the pines, the herons far away, trying to ignore the sound layered on top of it, but it was nearly impossible.

Isabella began to increasingly shift, twitch and grunt through her nose. Every time a new song started, she would lift her head, pull down her glasses and stare holes into the backs of their heads, but to no avail. Either they were ignoring the signals that we were annoyed, or not even noticing them, but either way, they didn’t stop their partying.

The final straw that broke the camels back was when the song switched, and Isabella’s ex boyfriend’s voice began rapping out of the speakers.

I closed my eyes slowly, already knowing what came next. Maybe if I remained still, nothing would happen.

Isabella’s hands balled into fists, digging her towel around handfuls of sand.

„No.“

She said, pressing her lips together, shaking her head to herself, holding back her own laughter in disbelief.

„No fucking way. No.“

She went again, and began to sit up.

„Isi, don’t.“

I whispered, pleading with her. It was our girls trip, I didn’t want us to pick a fight right at the beginning. But there was no stopping her.

She got up, and marched straight at the voice of her ex-boyfriend wafting over to us, her whole body tense with simmering rage. In my duty as her best friend, I of course jumped up after her, scrambling to match her pace, and tried to at least be the good-cop behind her as she began to bad-cop the group.

She stood squarely in front of their leader, arms crossed, visibly furious, tapping her index finger against her crossed arms.

„You alright, luv?“

The man said. He had a sort of funny look to him, as if everything he did was a joke, as if he knew exactly what was setting her off in that moment. As if he could have somehow known this song would especially infuriate her.

„No, actually. Could you please turn your music off?“

Isabella demanded. The man raised his brows, so high that his forehead deepened its already very deep creases to straight lines. He made not a single move toward turning the music off.

„Turn it off.“

Isabella repeated herself, growing impatient.

The man scoffed and looked at his friends, left, right, they began to laugh too. He stared up at her, his mouth hanging open slack, taunting her. His dog growled slightly, but he comforted it by scratching it’s neck scruff. Then his eyes wandered to me, he looked me up and down once, slowly, clearly leering.

Isabella snapped her fingers, grabbing his attention once more.

„Are you fucking deaf?“

She yelled, trying to be heard over the song.

„Wha-?“

The man said, cupping his ear, though he was clearly teasing her. Then he leaned back and slipped some pilot shades on, looking off at the lake. Conversation over.

But not for Isabella. I had often stood beside her, just like this, outside of clubs when she got into fights with people in line, at fast food places when they got their order wrong, pretty much any time she was treated unfairly, she never backed down.

„Fine.“

She said, lips pressed together, and reached down to click the boombox off. The group protested loudly, the man, finally, stopped slouching and grew tense, muscles rippling under his thin coat, and the girl got up and pushed Isabella so hard that she stumbled and fell against me.

„Bitch!“

She cried as she expended all her energy in the push. The others all laughed, and the man clicked the boombox back on, cranking up the volume. He shrugged, and it was our cue to either fight, or leave them alone.

Isabella, clearly, could have went on, but I dragged her away, not wasting another glance at them. Dicks. And to think I thought that he was cute. I didn’t want anything more to do with them, I didn’t even want them to look at us. They had brought the exact opposite of the energy I wanted for us, masculine and nasty.

I gave Isabella my ear plugs after that, and I simply tried to ignore the music, but we managed to keep the peace on the little beach that way until it grew dark. Eventually they left, and Isabella and I breathed out a sigh of relief.

„Good fucking riddance, christ.“

She cursed, rolling out her sleeping bag.

We had a little tent set up, and were nearly finished. I was building a fire out of sticks we had collected. We were ready to turn in for the night, exhausted by the long drive and not very restful beach stay. We were somewhat tucked into the forest, a few meters away from where the beach ended.

We sat for a while by our fire, I let Isabella rant about her ex, and I shared a few stories of my own past bad relationships too, some funny, some maddening, some sad, and after a few hours we doused our fire and went to bed.

We awoke with a jolt, the both of us at the same time. Music. Loud. Deafening. It infiltrated our tent, I dreamt that we were at war and a bomb had been dropped on my house, but it was just the head splitting volume of the boombox.

„No fucking way-“

Isabella said, we unzipped our tent door and found that the group had returned. They were much closer now, taunting us, purposefully. The woman who had pushed Isabella saw us and waved, grinning ear to ear. The leader was standing facing away from us with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, but open noticing that his friend was waving, spun around to us and smiled. It was no longer sweet at all, but cruel and hideous.

„Those sons of bitches…“

Isabella said more to herself than to me, and scrambled out of our tent. We were both only wearing oversized T-Shirts and tiny little shorts, we weren’t exactly threatening. I didn’t want another fight, I wrung with myself before indeed deciding to follow Isabella. Back up is back up, I had to be there for her. I had no choice.

She was marching straight at them, and this time she didn’t hesitate. She pushed the girl as soon as she got to her, she fell on the ground, right on her ass with a loud thud, and remained there too stunned to speak.

The leader whooped out with excitement. Nobody seemed to take notice of me yet, but Isabella was in the thick of it. It was hard to have any sense of calm or control while the music was blasting, and it all went too quickly. The girl on the ground got back up and started hitting Isabella, who defended herself, and quickly some of the others joined in, which prompted me to rush to her aid.

I had fought a few times before, always in defense, and this was no different. The only thing that was different was how many they were, and that they fought dirty, kicking up and throwing sand into our eyes, and the leader just stood there, watching, grinning, but with dead eyes.

He restrained his dog on a leash, but it was barking like crazy, and if he did decide to unleash the dog on us, I would run to the car as fast as I could, it looked extremely aggressive.

I landed a punch with a skinny guy, who fell to the ground, and the leader raised his brows, impressed. I didn’t have time to react, as the girl was on me now, wrestling me to the ground.

„Get…the fuck…off of me!“

I said between jabs,

„Just…leave us…alone!“

I managed to press out. But she wouldn’t stop, I felt like I was fighting for my life.

And then he did it. The leader let his dog free, pointing at Isabella, who was fighting two of the guys, sicking it on her.

„Isi!“

I cried, and she luckily saw the dog charge at her before it reached her. The leader laughed a very dumb, loud laugh that even cut through the brit-rap, he didn’t seem to care at all that his dog was very much able to kill us.

„Come on, run!“

Isabella screamed, first getting her bearings on all fours and then sprinting away. Nothing else mattered now, not all of our things still spread out in the forest, we had to save our asses.

I sprinted after her, I could hear the dog’s paws kicking up sand as it bolted after us, and even worse, soon after that five sets of boots on our tail as well.

„Get them! Don’t let them get away!“

The leader yelled, I could tell that they were gaining on us.

I heard, by the familiar jingle, that Isabella had our car keys with her, she had clipped them to her belt, and slept with it on, just for safety. We reached the old Mercedes, threw open the doors, slammed them shut so hard they nearly fell off, and she jingled the car keys around in her hand.

„Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-!“

She whispered, trying to get her bearings.

„Drive!“

I screamed, I could see them reach us in the rear view mirror.

„I’m trying!“

Isabella screamed back, finally producing the correct key, turning it in the ignition, putting the stick shift into reverse, and hitting the gas. The tires squealed and we moved backwards in one quick lurch, and came nearly to a stop. We hit something.

Isabella turned chalk white, freezing up. The whooping and hollering outside stopped, it was replaced by utter silence.

I looked in the rear view mirror. The leader was looking down at something, something in the ground right behind our car. He kneeled down then, and I couldn’t see what was happening anymore. We hit something, I searched the mirror for others. Three more guys, and the girl. They were all still alive. Then I understood. The dog, Isabella had run over the dog.

„Holy shit…“

I said under my breath, watching as the leader came back up, his expression completely changed. What had started as shock and disbelief was now pure, blank hatred.

„I’ll kill you, you bitch!“

He said, low, threatening. I saw him start to move in the mirror.

„Quick!“

I screamed, grabbing Isabella’s arm. I opened my side door and dragged her after me, pulling her in one motion with me over the stick shift and out of the car. Luckily, the group had gathered behind our car and we made a clean escape.

„After them! I want them fucking dead!“

The leader shouted, from the sound of his voice I could hear that he was running. Five pairs of footsteps crashed through the thicket of the forest behind us.

Isabella and I ran parallel, we were whipped by branches, like switches, leaving streaks of blood on our cheeks, that’s how fast we were tearing through the woods. I believed the man, when he said he wanted us dead. He did not look like someone who would play around with words like that lightly.

„I’ll collect your fucking head!“

He screamed, Isabella whimpered out in fear beside me.

Through baited breath, I managed to throw at her,

„We should split up, confuse them.“

In the dark I could see that she nodded, and took a quick left turn, I veered off to the right.

„They’re splitting up! Get them!“

The man yelled to his fellows, and still I heard steps behind me, growing closer and closer. They were gaining on us, but indeed they seemed to split into two factions as well now, though I could not tell who was where. It had likely been a spur of the moment split for them too. I prayed to god that they wouldn’t catch me.

Adrenaline rushed through my body, sending blood pumping and gushing through my ears, it was almost as deafening as the music had been.

I just told myself, over and over again, I had to keep running. It was a matter of life or death.

Tears had streaked the sides of my face, drawing wet eyeliner to the start of my hairline. I was nearly out of breath, choking on oncoming air and swallowing hard into nothingness, while my legs were starting to give out, even though they were running like automated machines, in circles and circles and circles forever more, finding footing on the unstable forest ground before me. I felt like a wild animal set free, swallowing the forest underneath my feet, not hunting anything, not following, but sprinting into the night as far as my body would take me. I was surely a few kilometers away from our campsite now, I would never find my way back. Not to our things, not to Isabella. And there were still many kilometers before I would reach a village either.

But I couldn’t think about that now, I had to keep running for my life. It felt like I had been running for hours. The footsteps behind me grew more distant, either I was gaining speed, or they were beginning to slow down. I desperately wanted to know who was chasing me, I hesitated for only split second, but it was enough to be my undoing. I stumbled over a root, and careened to the forest ground as if being yanked down in an embrace. I lay there, writhing in pain from the fall, and quickly my question was answered as to who had been chasing me. It was only one pair of footsteps. The leader.

He towered over me, out of breath, chest rising and falling, breathing out through flared nostrils like an angry bull, eyes glinting with a predatory gleam.

I couldn’t move, I felt cornered without walls around me. I was completely at his mercy, at his whim now, I couldn’t move. A searing pain rang through my leg, I had done something to it, but the pain was so spread out and extreme that I could not even tell what had happened.

Suddenly memories flashed back into my brain of the assaults many years ago we had read about, the bodies found, the police reports. I was sure that they had something to do with it.

The moon was so bright that it cast his shadow over me, I was just a shaking black spot before him, quivering at the thought of what he might do next.

He fell to his knees, exhausted, and grabbed my legs.

I started to kick him with my god leg, but he blocked my kicks easily and fixed me to the ground. I cried out in pain when he grabbed my injured leg, he quickly evaluated what had caused me such pain, and began twisting my leg slightly.

„’Zat hurt?“

He said, apathetically.

„…Yes…“

I pressed out, muffling a scream with my arms.

He looked me up and down, writhing underneath him, and for the first time now, slightly smiled. A genuine, softer smile.

„I could hurt you way worse than just that. You want that?“

He goaded. I shook my head, tears springing into my eyes from the feel of his hand on my leg, and I cried out.

„No! Please don’t…“

I sobbed, burying my face in the dirt and leaves.

„Then don’t fight back.“

He said, devoid of emotion, and grabbed my good leg, opening it up and away from the other. He crawled forward further now, so that he was starting to hover on all fours on top of me. He lowered himself, and secured my face, grazing my bottom lip with his thumb. His skin was calloused and rough. Like he worked with his hands every day.

I trembled underneath him, confused, frightened by the sudden change in his behavior. I wanted to fight back, to protest, but he seemed capable of killing me then and there, of snapping my neck. Under different circumstances, had I met him back in civilization, maybe at a party, and hadn’t seen him act out, then I might have enjoyed the feeling of him on top of me. But right now all I felt was fear.

He leaned down and kissed me, greedy, biting my lip.

„Mmmfuck you taste good…“

He muttered into my mouth, feeling no need to show restraint.

„I’m gonna fuck you so good you won’t be able to run away after…“

He said, pulling back slightly. He began to grind down onto me, using his heavy body to his advantage, easily controlling the way he moved down against me with his rippling muscles. He had quickly recovered from the chase, while I was still completely out of breath. Like he did this all the time.

„Please…please don’t…“

I whimpered, turning my face away from him. I tried to kick him, but didn’t make a real impact.

He slapped me hard across the face, drawing blood and leaving a throbbing, stinging sensation.

„What the fuck did I say about fighting me back?“

He hissed, but instantly began to devour me again. He was like an animal that had been starved for days, savoring every taste of me. His tongue found it’s way into my mouth, greedily licking into me with no shame, trying to catch my tongue in a sick game of twirling and twisting as if we were madly in love with each other. I tried to evade him, but quickly found myself caught up in the moment, matching his rhythm and accepting him into my mouth, and soon doing the same as him. I could feel him smile against my mouth, self satisfied. As if proud of himself that he could so quickly get me to melt for him, to play along. The idea of wanting to kick him felt distant now, felt like the wrong thing to do. He tested the waters even further, grinding harder against me, his cock was rock hard and humping against my little shorts, riding them up with every thrust.

Our lips parted only briefly so that he could lift himself up somewhat, looking down at where our bodies met, pleased with what he saw. My shorts were drenched with a wet spot were I grew slick for him, rubbing autonomously now against his erection, desperately craving more. He had woken my body up, it didn’t matter now who he was or where we were, all I cared about now was what he was doing to me. He kept kissing me, adjusting his angle so that he was thrusting in from deeper, his hard cock had built a tent in his pants with which he could dry fuck into my shorts from a lower angle.

„Yeah, you like that you dumb slut?“

He groaned, going faster.

I didn’t respond, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Though he of course didn’t need one, it was clear by the moan escaping my mouth that I was more than enjoying the feeling. I could feel my pussy throb for him like it hadn’t done for anyone in a long time. The desperate urge to have him inside of me, raw, overcame me, drove me wild. There was something about him, so wild and aggressive that made me go absolutely feral. I had to have him.

I didn’t have to wait for long. He grabbed me by my hips and twisted me around, I was on all fours, I tried to relieve pressure from my hurt leg but he wouldn’t let me, and I whined out in pain. But the pain was much less now, overshadowed by my endorphins and need for him inside of me. He pushed my head down onto the ground, and pulled my ass closer to him, hooking under me with his forearm. He grinded against me again, groaning loudly.

„Fuck, you feel so good. I can’t wait to fuck you blind, Stupid bitch.“

He said through gritted teeth, all the while humping against me. I could hardly take it anymore, every single thrust drove a rush of fluttery feelings through my whole body, my pussy was throbbing so hard I wondered if he could feel it through my shorts.

Then, momentarily, he stopped. I could hear him wet his fingers, then he shoved the part of my shorts to the side that exposed my panties, then those too, until my pussy hung out and was caressed by the cool night air. Soon, his wet, slick fingers followed, two of them pumping into my dripping cunt at the same time. He had thick fingers, long too, they easily reached the spot inside of me that made me melt like butter, and I was reduced to a sobbing mess underneath him as he began to pump his fingers in and out of me fast and faster.

„Yeah, you like that Huh? You like it when I make you come all over my fingers, hmm?“

He groaned, going even faster.

„Answer me, slut.“

He barked.

„Yes…“

I moaned, almost unable to speak, it felt so delicious. I sobbed into the dirty ground. I could hardly take it anymore.

Then he stopped. Instantly, I ached for him, finding the absence of his fingers unbearable.

I was about to beg for more, when I heard that he was unzipping his pants, rustling down his boxer shorts, and before I could think I felt him enter me, raw and hard, completely unprotected.

„No, please, no…“

I whined, but it only seemed to encourage him.

„I’m not on the pill…“

I cried, but he ignored me.

„Fuck, you’re so tight…“

He moaned, grinding against me. His breath was labored, he sounded like he was already almost ready to come.

„Please…stop“

I cried.

He rocked his hips into me, grabbing my ass so tight that it hurt, and would likely leave bruises tomorrow, should he leave me alive.

„Holy…FUCKING shit you feel so good… oh my god…“

He groaned, collapsing forward now, pulling me up close to him by my hair, all balled up in his fist, I cried out in pain. He whispered right into my ear, than began kissing me, licking my ear, it sent tingling sensations all the way down my back.

We both rocked forward with every thrust, and with every thrust the roots of my hair were yanked and it hurt like hell, but mingled with his cock throbbing inside of my wet pussy it felt like heaven.

„Oh yeah… I wanna put a baby in you… you look so fucking good… I wanna come inside of you and never let you leave…“

He whispered into my ear between licks, breath becoming ragged. He was humping me like a possessed dog, and amusing himself while he did it. I was no longer able to respond, instead a guttural moan rippled out of my throat, choppy from the harsh snapping movement he sent through me.

When he sensed that he was about to come, already leaking precum into me, he stopped, pulling back from me, pushing me forward off of his dick and nearly kicking me into the dirt.

„Turn around. Come here.“

He ordered, motioning for me how he wanted me. He rested back on his legs, folded, cock sprung up, looking almost painfully hard, still leaking precum. His eyes were hungry, awake, alert. As soon as I was turned and somewhat close, he grabbed my head, again balling my hair up in his fist, and dropped my head onto his cot, stuffing himself down my throat, moaning hard.

„Ahhhh…. that’s the stuff…“

He groaned, and made me bob up and down on his cock over and over and over again, getting rougher as time went on. He had to stuff his whole fist into his mmouth and bite down to keep himself from moaning, his dick tasted salty with precum and unwashed, but I couldn’t get enough of it. A sober minded me would be embarrassed to see the way I was gobbling up what he was giving me, blowing spit bubbles on his cock and moaning out with pleasure, clenching my pussy against the cold air as I was worked around him. Again, he was close to summing and threw me off of him to stop himself

„I want to cum in you while you’re coming. Lay down.“

Another order barked, and I obeyed, even though the ground was filthy and disgusting.

I settled into a somewhat comfortable position, and he was on me even faster, his cock quickly finding a home in my as if it had never left, now hitting that spot inside at just the right angle, and he had gotten much faster and precise than before. That coupled with the fact that he was finally kissing me again, on my neck, my chest, my ear, my mouth, nearly already sent me over the edge.

I couldn’t help but moan like a porn star, there was nobody far and wide to judge me for it, I had never felt anything like it, it was as if his body was made for me.

He slapped me hard across the face.

„Can’t contain yourself, can you you filthy bitch? I bet you get fucked all the time, don’t you?“

I shook my head, looking up at him, pleading.

He grinned to himself.

„I bet nobody…..ahhhh…. Ever cums inside though, huh?“

He kisses me again on the neck, sucking hard on my skin, leaving a hickey.

„I’m gonna make you mine, gonna get you all pregnant. Your gonna be filled when I’m done with you…“

He groaned, continuing to work on my neck, all the way up to my ear again, licking me and moaning right into my ear.

„Fuck, you feel like heaven I’m about to come..:“

He stuttered, fucking me even harder. I could slowly feel the build of an orgasm, that familiar know rising between my hips. He only had to continue his rhyming and pace and I would be done for.

„Please…don’t stop….I’m so close…“

I whined against him, and he took my words as a lawful command, for the first time doing something that wasn’t purely self serving.

„Oh yeah… yeah come for me…. Come on my cock, baby.“

He muttered into my lips between kisses.

„I need you so fucking bad. Need you to come for me…:“

He groaned, trying not to change anything about his pace.

Only a few more thrusts before my knot would unwind, I could feel it build, the crescendo, and I felt his cock twitch inside of me, eager to finally release into me. The though of it sent me over the edge.

„Oh, fuck!“

I moaned into his muscular shoulder, biting down into his skin as I trembled and shook, cumming hard around his cock, muscles clenching and suctioning him further into me, and then I could feel him releasing his cum into me, ropes and ropes of it, as he let out a long, breathy grown against me, sputtering and utterly spent.

„Fuck….“

He breathed, as if he was in disbelief of what he just did. His fingers dug into my back as he kept me pressed hard against him, locking me there so I could not escape. Desperate, he refused to let me go, kissing me wildly, nearly eating me up, moaning between every kiss, it was almost embarrassing.

„Fuck,“

Kiss,

„You feel,“

Kiss,

„So fucking good,“

Kiss,

„You’re gonna be knocked up with my,“

Kiss,

„Baby now,“

Kiss,

„And your gonna be,“

Kiss,

„Mine.“

Kiss. And then all at once I could feel him collapse on top of me, muscles losing their tension, and he grew heavier, nearly knocking the wind out of my lungs. I couldn’t deny that it felt incredibly to be smothered by him like this, and have him still twitching inside of me, and me around him, in aftershocks of our climaxes.

And equally, I had never had anything so hot ever happen to me, I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. I couldn’t think clearly, I was… pleased that he had cum in me. Normal minded me would never allow such a thing, but it felt so good…

He grinned against my lips, prompting me to kiss him again.

„Good thing I followed you, not your friend.“

He muttered more to himself than to me, and buried his face in my neck again, kissing me once more.

We remained this way for quite a while, simply enjoying each others bodies, when I felt him twitch again.

„Fuck… I really have to pee…“

He whispered to me, close to my ear, like it was a secret. I hesitated, then turned my head slightly to answer his gaze. It was like we had both known each other forever, we communicated only with looks. Like we both instantly understood that this had been a mutual fantasy.

„Then you should…go.“

I whispered back, testing the waters. He grinned, and then his expression changed to that of utter ecstasy, as he released inside of me, nice and slow, eyebrows meeting high in the middle of his forehead and his mouth hanging agape in pure pleasure.

„Holy….fuck you feel so good… I could stay inside of you…. Forever…“

He whispered between releases, then coming crashing down to kiss me once more. I felt filled to the brim, he let his cock spring free, and some of his piss gushed out of me in a warm stream. Our bodies worked together again, he slowly grinded back against my hips, and I pulled him closer down onto me, seeking closeness. He embraced me now, a little tighter, and kissed up my neck and to my ear again.

He whispered to me,

„You’re gonna be my girlfriend now. Tomorrow I’ll introduce you properly to the others.“

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 130k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Chapter 15 - Mending

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 15 - Mending

It was hard, leaving our temporary home forever. I had gotten used to the great halls of the museum. I had fallen in love with my sculptures, I had gotten used to the warmth of a heated room, and I had enjoyed eating at a table every night. I had long forgotten how it was to live like real humans. Some things about it were heaven.

But equally, I missed the open road. Trekking beside my fellow Fingers, only a knapsack on my back, and my trusty bat in my fist, following in the footsteps of Sir Jimmy, wherever it was he went. Painting the countryside with our messages, carving our name into the bodies of the non-believers, burning churches, hunting, playing, laughing. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got.

I was packing up my few belongings into my backpack, I could hear Jimmy Ink in the neighboring hall doing the same. Sir Jimmy had commanded us to not accumulate any belongings, so that we did not forget our nomad ways, but I had begun a little collection of knick-knacks and I had even found a guitar that I had been allowed to bring to our homestead. I played it occasionally, though I had never really progressed past the rudimentary chords that my mother had once shown me. It was enough to strum a couple of little songs, but quite unimpressive.

I smoothed out my light purple tracksuit, checking for areas that might need any last mending before our travel. There were some seams beginning to rip, and a little hole where my thumb would be. I knew that Jimmy Ink had the only sewing kit, so I decided to pay her a visit.

I knocked my bat against the case of minerals that stood at the cusp of her room. She had gotten the room of gemstones, fossils and rocks. The glass that I had tapped encased Fool’s Gold, a pretty mineral that I had wanted to keep, maybe melt into a ring, but Jimmy had explained to me that it was not real gold, like his jewelry was, but an imitation, a trick from god, to humiliate the good people of the land, and that I should not expect it to behave like pure gold did. He added, then, that if my heart was set on having real gold, we might soon stop by a department store and have a little raid, though I could only select one thing, and I would not be allowed to wear it, but I could hide it if I liked. So as to not outshine him, he did have to maintain his royal presence, after all, for his father and for any wanderers we might meet. I understood, nodding. But on the inside I was ecstatic, I was allowed a piece of jewelry. I daydreamed about it for many weeks after that, and on every hunt I hoped that we would come upon something that caught my eye, something special, but I was still searching.

Jimmy Ink looked up, at the sound of the wood of my bat clanking against the glass case.

“What d’ye want?”

She huffed, trying to squish her things all into her bag. She had also gathered a few extra items in our time here, more than she could ever travel with.

“D’ye still have yer thread and needle? My clothes need some mending.”

I said, approaching her tentatively. She was quite hard to predict when she was being fussy, the wrong word could make her explode, so I treaded carefully. I pitter-pattered over to her as if I were walking on eggshells.

“Oh, sure. Here, wait.”

She said, digging down the side of her backpack, her arm disappearing inside up to her elbow. She rummaged around for a short while, sticking the tip of her tongue out in concentration, and then brought forth the little tin with the thimble, needle and thread, that we would all share.

“There ya go.”

She tossed it to me, and went back to stuffing her mess of things inside, to no fruition.

“How’s yer suit, should I mend it while I’m at it?”

I asked, still maintaining a careful distance.

“Can’t ye see I’m busy, Jimmy?”

She grunted, eyebrows knitted with frustration, now using the pressure of her elbow to squish everything down.

Without a word, I raised my hands in thanks and turned on my heels, making my swift exit.

I stopped by Jimmy Cornetto’s room, collecting his shirt. Then I wanted to see Noose, but he was coughing up phlegm so fiercely, nearly hacking up a lung, that I skipped his room, going on to the wing in which Junior and Jam were staying, but their suits didn’t need any mending. Jimmy Shite shimmied out of his pants, I averted my gaze and flung them over my shoulder.

“The arse is completely torn, might need a patch.”

He said dryly, a mean grin on his face.

“Lovely.”

I said curtly, and rolled my eyes. He was now standing in front of me only in his boxers.

“Don’t act like ye donnae like it.”

He retorted, twisting a piece of fabric he was holding into a whip and snapping it at me playfully.

“Oh yeah?”

I took the challenge, grinning, dropping my bat and the clothes I was carrying, and procuring a knife swiftly out of the back of my waistband.

I crouched a little lower and extended the hand with my knife like a fencer, Jimmy Shite gripped his much larger knife with his entire fist and began pacing toward me.

At first I only blocked his attacks, dodging his wide swings, jumping out of the way every time or raising my knife to stop his, then I went into the offensive, trying to cut at his legs with swift movements, which he was also able to dodge. We played for a little while longer, before he nicked my sleeve and cut another hole into it.

“Shite, ye dumb cunt!”

I cursed, ending our game and grazing my fingers over the incision.

“Sore loser.”

He laughed heinously, pocketing his knife.

Great, more sewing work. I decided I had had enough, I picked up the discarded clothes, my bat, and left for the restored Victorian bedroom, the room that Sir Lord Jimmy had taken.

It made me nervous every single time to knock on his door. He was the only one of us who had a real door. We others had large stone arches connecting our rooms, we were technically all sharing small compartments of one big room, but not him. He was tucked away, up a marble staircase and behind a glass door.

He had hung curtains on the inside of the door, for more privacy. I knocked, holding my breath. I did not know why, but it felt so daunting to do so. Likely because he was the son of Old Nick, something I could sometimes still not wrap my head around. How lucky we were to be granted his presence every day. That he sent his only and most beloved son down to earth to mingle with us.

The curtains were drawn aside to the left, and Sir Jimmy looked at me through the glass. He seemed irritated, but the expression melted away when he set eyes upon me, his brow unfurrowing, his shoulder relaxing.

“Oh, it’s ye, Jimmy.”

I could hear him through the door, which he presently opened to me.

He beckoned me to come in, holding the door open for me and closing it behind me softly.

“Are ye all packed?”

I ventured, looking around the room. It seemed that he was the only one who truly and strictly followed his rule of not keeping any new belongings, the room was seemingly unchanged to when we had found it, save for the new painting of him hung above his bed, the unmade pillows and blanket, and the spray-painted word “JIMMY” and Petrine crosses all over the walls.

He nodded and sat at the tall edge of his canopy bed.

“No much tae pack. Though, I will miss the creature comforts.”

He said, stroking the blanket next to him, longingly.

“Shame we cannae take that, sir.”

I said, pointing my bat at the painting of him and Bephomet.

“Aye…”

He said, sadness tinging his voice.

“I do enjoy the sight o’ it…”

He mused,

“But it can stay here as a reminder tae others.”

He raised his brows.

“And besides, where we’re goin’, we won’t need it. I’m sure there are photographs of me and Father that we can look at, and if I correctly recall there were paintings I had done myself at the house, too.”

My eyes widened, this was exciting news.

“Ye have photographs with Old Nick himself?”

I gasped.

“Aye, but I was wee then, even weer than I was on this here painting…”

Sir Jimmy placed strands of his hair back behind his shoulders, smiling wide,

“Ye wouldnae recognize me, I’m sure.”

I grinned at the idea of seeing Sir Jimmy as a little boy, the thought of it was quite heartwarming, he must have been very different from the man before me now.

“Was there a reason fer yer comin’ here, Jimmy Bat?”

He broke my train of thought, rising from the bed again, slowly walking up to me. He was taller than I, still, even though I had grown. His handsome blue eyes looked down upon me kindly, as if he had all the time in the world to await my answer.

I enjoyed having him so close, it was quite rare that we were ever just the two of us, talking, and he sounded quite different too. He did not put on a show, he did not bellow out every word, instead his voice was deeper, he would almost purr in his brogue.

“I’m mendin’ everyone’s suits before we leave, I wanted tae ask if ye wanted me tae mend yers.”

I said, much quieter now.

Unexpectedly, he grabbed my wrist, not with force, but lightly, eyes flitting down, examining the two holes in the fabric, gently turning my arm back and forth. He pursed his lips slightly, then let my arm go.

“Ye cannae be seen in this, that is fer sure…”

He thought for a moment, then stepped even closer than he already was. I could see every little wrinkle of his face, wrinkles of a man in his mid-twenties now, and I could look even deeper into his eyes, discovering depths of light and dark that I could not see otherwise.

He began to lift his chains, and unzip his tracksuit, taking the shirt off, revealing only his undershirt, like we all wore.

“Here, ye can check if it needs mendin’.”

He pressed the shirt against my stomach, and I accepted it, nodding.

“Yer a doll.”

He said, smiling, and I tried not to wince at his rotten teeth up so close. I was quite used to the sight of them, and sometimes it seemed worse than other times, I remained steadfast. He saw my eyes flit down to his mouth, and saw how quickly I had returned to his eyes, eliciting an even wider grin.

“When yer done, tell the rest o’ the Fingers tae gather in the main hall, we’re burnin’ the rest of our things.”

He said coolly, and turned away from me, pacing about his room. It was an unfamiliar sight, when I closed my eyes and thought of him I could only picture him in his full get-up, he seemed almost vulnerable with a part of it missing.

A pang hit me. He also meant my guitar then, there was no way that we could take it on the road with us. I knew that of course there would be many more guitars just like it, but setting fire to it was quite brutal.

“Yes, sir Jimmy.”

I said, and turned to leave.

“Jimmy-”

He started, as I had already opened the door, I stopped in my tracks, awaiting an order.

But he waved a hand as if to drop it.

“Ah forget it, it doesnae matter,”

He shook his head and looked down, his blond curls swaying,

“Carry on.”

I nodded again and carefully closed the door behind me. I could hear him close the curtains with a hasty swipe, I quickened my pace down the stairs and found a place to sit and begin sewing.

I found a little pillar to lean against and took up my work, I had trouble threading the needle, as my hands were still trembling, and my heart was beating fast. I thought that I would swallow my heart when he had been so close to me, it had taken everything in me not to choke.

I started with Sir Jimmy’s shirt, checking it for any little flaw, but it seemed pretty much intact. I did not want to lay it aside so quickly though. I made sure that nobody was around to see me, and then I hugged it to my chest, imagining, for the first time, that I could embrace Jimmy into my arms. I had known him for six years and not once embraced him. As I pressed the fabric against my chest, a puff of air was released and filled my radius, the indisputable musk of his, the smell of his sweat mixed with that of his skin, it was a familiar scent when it came up, but one so hard to recall when I was picturing him. I lifted the fabric to my face, and buried myself in it. Something I had always wanted to do. He wore the only uniform of velour, it was soft and plush, the loveliest thing I had ever touched. And one of my happiest memories, it was seared into my brain, seeing his purple velour suit and wanting to get lost in it, take comfort in it, fall asleep in it.

Something made a sound, far off down some hall, maybe a mouse. I immediately became aware of my surroundings again, I quickly put away the shirt and peeked my head around the pillar, but there was nobody there. I berated myself for getting lost in more daydreams, and quickly and quite haphazardly mended my own tracksuit, then Shite’s pants, with a patch as he had asked for, and Cornetto’s shirt which had a part of the collar coming off.

—

I had alerted the Fingers to meet in the hall, and had returned everyone their clothing items. I had assured Sir Jimmy that his shirt was spotless and tearless, which he hummed an agreeing sound to. I had purposefully made one little alteration, I had woven one of the blonde hairs from my wig deep into one of the pockets, where it wouldn’t be noticed, just for my own peace of mind. I of course had not told him this, and I knew that I would probably also soon not remember that I had done that.

We gathered around the great big staircase where we always made our fire. It burned high and bright, already fueled by our knick-knacks and some more pieces of art, and my guitar, already half broken down and partially melted, lay beneath the junk.

I had half a mind to cry about it, I know how ridiculous it would be to cry over burning a guitar when we routinely burned human beings, but those were necessary sacrifices, and a delight to Old Nick, and I was finding it hard to understand how burning my guitar would do any good, especially since our dark lord seemed to enjoy it so, or at least that was what Sir Jimmy had relayed to us many times.

Sir Jimmy stood across from me on the other side of the rising flames, his face was distorted through it and gleaming from the heat. He smiled proudly at the melting away of all of our earthly possessions, it could only mean a type of rebirth. Sir Jimmy adjusted his jaw once or twice, as if it were sore, as if he had been hit. His eyes glistened almost red as he looked into the bonfire.

“See this as a wind beneath yer wings, so tae speak.”

He lectured us,

“I’m sure ye know that gluttony is one of the worst sins. Howzat?”

“Howzat!”

We answered in unison, though Jimmy Noose was distinctly sickly sounding, once more Sir Jimmy raised a brow at this. He wiped an imaginary droplet of spit off his cheek and glared at Noose until he apologized.

—

After the fire had died down and everything was reduced to ashes, we began our trek. Sir Jimmy was at the head, as always, Ink close to him, and where usually Noose would be, was Jimmy Cornetto.

Jimmy Noose had been banished to trail behind us, at least 100 meters, Sir Jimmy had said. He wanted him close, but did not want him to get any of us sick, or hinder us in our mission. He was almost like demon bait, all alone and growing more and more exhausted hauling his javelin and knapsack. He kept falling back. I would occasionally stop to tie my shoe or to pee, just to strike up a quick conversation with Noose. But Noose did not seem to want my company, his pride probably damaged, and insisted that he was not sick. I would shrug and then run back to catch up with the rest of the Fingers, leaving Jimmy Noose alone.

We usually travelled for many miles every day, though we had spent a lot of time hunting, it was quite an adjustment to walk so long every day, and we all felt it. We made frequent stops, to which Noose was not invited, and Sir Jimmy especially seemed out of shape. Not his body, but his breath. I had become witness to just how fit he was earlier that day, but still, he was breathing heavy and had a pained expression on his face, top lip drawn up and irritated, he watched the road ahead through a disgruntled brow, as if being blinded by heavy sunlight, where there was none.

We had gone for about twenty kilometers on that first day, and were exhausted. We set up our camp minimally, along a tree line, on a little dirt patch. It was quite cozy, and we were all glad to be laying down. We still had some remaining deer jerky each which we snacked on, while Sir Jimmy told us tales of the Power Rangers. Many we had heard before, but he added so many exciting details that it always felt like it was the very first time he was telling them, and some were even new. No matter how tired we were, there was always energy to be replenished from such a story.

Jimmy Noose was camping close by, he had a hammock hung between two pines. Junior had gone to check on him briefly, and to bring him his deer jerky.

“Why isnae Noose here wi’ us?”

Jimmy Jam asked, after one of Sir Jimmy’s stories had just sent us into a fit of laughter, and we were just calming down from it.

Sir Jimmy thought for a moment, then he spoke,

“Father has told me that Jimmy has grown ill, as punishment for breakin’ one of my rules. He had been the most gluttonous of all, as ye might have noticed.”

I did not know what Sir Jimmy was referring to, but we all nodded.

“And Father has said that I should test him, but that we all shouldnae worry about his punishment, and are not tae fall ill on his behalf. Which is why I have banished him.”

Sir Jimmy awaited our response, trying to see where our minds were at.

He let out a tentative,

“Howzat?”

To which we all replied, which seemed to satisfy him, and he rolled over to sleep, we Jimmies did the same, dousing the fire.

The full moon was out, illuminating the many clouds and lands below. Our clearing was bathed in a white light, our blond hair shone through the night.

Everyone quickly fell asleep, snoring loudly, or breathing slower and slower. But I could not sleep. Though my body felt heavy as a wheelbarrow full of rocks, I thrashed back and forth, my mind racing.

I studied the moon for a few minutes, becoming increasingly concerned that I would not be well rested for the next day. But I could not get him out of my mind. He was so close to me, only three bodies away. I hadn’t stopped thinking about the way he had looked at me earlier, the confusing feelings I felt when he smiled at me, and how it felt like something had been taken from me when he stepped away. I imagined it over and over again, the way he walked over, and the moment that he pressed his shirt against me for me to take it.

I kept thrashing, no position seemed to feel good. I lay on my back, my arms folded on my stomach, and legs in almost an O shape, trying to be comfortable. I felt the strangest sensation, as if I needed to pee, but not quite. I lay there for many minutes more, only thinking about Sir Jimmy. The feeling got stronger and stronger, but it didn’t feel like I wanted to do anything about it, like get up and try to urinate. Instead I lay there, pining for him and confused, but a little excited as well. My breath grew quicker, I would never fall asleep that night, it felt like I would never be able to sleep again.

As if possessed by a demon, my hand began to wander under my waistband, and found a resting place that was comfortable. I didn’t dare go further. I was afraid that Ink next to me would wake up at the rustle or the movement and question me on why my hand was down my pants. And I would have no answer, but it just felt right.

I pressed my knees together, ever so slowly, flexing my thighs. The sensation built. After a while, I fell into a rhythm of clenching the muscles in my legs, making my knees touch each other and leaving my hand where it was. I didn’t dare increase the rhythm, in fear of making a sound. I just managed to move in such a way that it was entirely soundless, though the impact was huge. I kept picturing Sir Jimmy, now it was his deep rasp I was imagining, him speaking into my ear, all the times at which he had praised me, been warm to me. And all in his low brogue. The feeling in my lower stomach grew and grew, and became warmer, like it was golden, until I overwhelmed myself and made myself stop. It was all so strange, and I needed to at least try to get some sleep, and I wondered if I should ask Ink about it the next day, if she knew what that might have been, but I thought to myself as well that it might be a secret I wanted to keep.

It took a while for my breath to become measured again, and eventually I calmed down to the state I had been in before. Even my breaths had been silent, I was louder now, thrashing around again, than I had been with the daydreaming. I simply could not stop thrashing back and forth, adjusting, moving, until I sat up fully, squinting at the moon.

Sir Jimmy’s eyes shone in the moonlight, he was watching me from across the camp, he had thought that he was the only one who was awake, but was glad to see me now.

“Havin’ trouble sleepin’?”

He whispered over to me.

I whipped around, surprised and embarrassed. I sent a silent prayer to Old Nick that he had not heard me before.

“No.”

I whispered back.

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 130k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Chapter 14 - Fallen Angel

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 14 - Fallen Angel

The spring sun illuminated the marble entrance of our palace. Our temporary haven. We had some close brushes with night raids, in which more than a dozen demons would swarm us. The further south we went, the denser their territories became. Sir Jimmy had first established a new rule, in which instead of one night guard there should be three, but even that did not help. It had become taxing on all of us, and he decreed that we deserved some rest from roaming the land, and we needed a place to survive the upcoming winter, so he selected a museum for us to live in.

I had been with the group for six years by then. I was eighteen years of age, almost nineteen. My entire teens dedicated to a singular cause: spread our charity over the dominion of Old Nick, a Finger upon his mighty Fist.

I had grown strong and tall with my fellows, outgrowing even my track suit. I altered it with stitches and patches to fit my shape. My face had hardened with the countless nights in the wilderness, my hands were steady in the face of danger, as I knew whatever should touch my hands could not have done anything worse than they had.

Over the years, we had spread our charity far and wide, and many a person had been selected by Old Nick to try out and fight, and every one of us had been challenged, except for Jimmy Ink, and every one of them had swiftly been eliminated, and we Jimmies remained in our tightly woven glove of fellowship. They had grown dear to my heart, like brothers and sisters, and like siblings, we still fought, and there were times where I hated them, but there were more times when I would gladly step through fire as well. Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal was different, he was not like family, not to any of us. He was more of a king. Over the years his rule became more iron. With our tempers adjusting in time, we gave less back chat, and also grew to understand better why he gave the orders that he did. And why it was so essential that we remained a loyal unit, and stopped our infighting.

We trained relentlessly, not only in our weapons, but our sprints, our acrobatics, our reflexes, our bow and arrow, our throws and our jumps. Jimmy Ink was a natural, I had to work twice as hard as she did to keep up with her pace, but I did not mind, it meant that I was twice as committed. Recently, Jimmy Noose had become short of breath, and fell behind in our sprints, which Sir Jimmy would point out and berate him for.

He himself did not always partake in our training anymore like he used to, relaxing comfortably into his position of ruler, but I did not mind. It suited him, the status, the posture, and what we needed most was someone like him at our front to call the shots and leave an impression on the living ones we came across.

Jimmy Jam and Jimmy Junior shared a room now, or rather an entire wing, at our museum homestead, which at first Sir Jimmy forbade, but then allowed, he did not explain why. They had decided they were in love, and liked to be close to each other. None of us were very versed in such things, and perhaps at first Sir Jimmy was irritated and a bit confused, but he had had a change of heart, or maybe it was his father.

I myself occupied the room with sculptures and statues, I enjoyed pacing around, especially in the dark with only a torch, seeing their expressions shift with the light I was casting, and trying to guess who they had been, and if they had been real. Some of them we smashed when we arrived, any one of them that depicted Christ or his associates. And in the other wings of the museum too, the paintings were ripped off the walls and burned, or altered with crude chalk drawings. But landscapes, and miscellaneous men and women were allowed to remain, and some images Jimmy had recognized, depicting his Father, which he rehung into his own quarters, and some statues were moved to his room as well. He found one painting of a blonde young child, by a goat in a dark space which was hard to discern, which I had spotted. I had taken it off the wall to show to Sir Jimmy, to have him confirm my suspicions.

His eyes lit up when he saw it, and I was no longer interested in the painting, my eyes were fixed on him, the elation, the joy, the purity of it. I could not tear myself away from his smile. Transfixed, I bowed and handed it over to him. I had been right. It was a painting of our own Jimmy, the son of Old Nick, it had been hanging here, proof, all along.

He called in the rest of the Fingers to observe it, and kiss the child depicted. When I was in line, I hesitated for just a moment, before placing my lips upon the canvas, and quickly retreated. I knew that I was prescribing a different meaning to the act, and I knew that every Jimmy had just done it before me, but I could not stop myself from imagining the canvas being Jimmy himself. He did not seem to take any note of this, still enthralled by the artwork, completely distracted from all of us. It hung above his bed, which was a restored Victorian-era bed, fit for a king.

Jimmy Ink was something like my next-door neighbor. We had both grown into quite striking young women, sometimes the people we encountered tried to appeal to our vanity, which we would playfully indulge, and then slaughter them nonetheless.

Jimmy Jam had not turned out quite the same, embracing more and more her animalistic side, becoming quite skilled on all fours, she shaved her teeth down to fangs and her nails to claws. How Jimmy Junior could fall in love with her was a mystery to me, but she was quite amusing and one of our best hunters, so I did not care much.

We would hunt in pairs of two, once a day, and all feast together every night. We still built a fire at the center of the big hall, and gathered around it in a circle, lest we fall out of routine, since we would soon be moving on again, Sir Jimmy kept reminding us. He would say all winter long, how he had big plans for us come spring.

We were now just returning from a hunt, Jimmy Ink and I, we had managed to shoot a deer and were quite giddy, awaiting Sir Lord Jimmy’s reaction.

Him, Noose and Cornetto were inside, going over plans that Sir Jimmy had drawn with chalk onto the ground of the main hall. It seemed to depict the mainland, an X at the very bottom, for us, and an X in the Scottish Highlands. Some other places we had had significant encounters in had been scribbled in as well, and particularly hard-to-traverse areas were scratched out.

Jimmy Ink knocked her knife against the wall to announce that we had returned.

“Dinner’s here.”

She called flatly, her typical dry humor. The three raised their heads and all showed a different sign of delight at the deer we were hauling.

“Bongiorno!”

Sir Jimmy chimed, his eyebrows flashing up and down for a split second as he set eyes upon us.

He rose to his feet and parted his arms, as if to welcome us home.

“My, my, my. Jimmy Ink, Jimmy Bat, now that is some fine work.”

He sauntered closer, as we dropped the deer onto the white floors, it leaked some juices onto them, and made a loud thud.

“Somethin’ we can sink our teeth intae.”

He grinned, and crouched to examine our kill. My arms hurt from lugging it so far, we had scared this mamma deer as it had been running with her baby, and opted for the larger kill.

“Grab Jimmy Jam and Jimmy Junior and prepare it out back, will ye?”

It was posed as a question, but clearly an order, and we sighed as we heaved the deer back up to schlep it outside. Sir Jimmy returned to his map, rubbing his hands together with excitement.

—

A long stone slab was used as their table, they had pulled up various chairs to it. It was stained from many nights of careless spilling and raucousness. It used to be a work of art, but the Jimmies had not recognized it as such.

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal sat at the head of the table, kicking back and picking his rotten teeth with a piece of sharp bone. They only had water to wash the deer down, he took a long swig of the stuff then cleared his throat.

His Fingers were still working at their portions, at the far end of the table sat Jimmy Bat, the technically newest addition of the bunch, but by now an established member, who had more than earned her keep. She bore many scars to prove it, aside from the Petrine cross upon her brow.

Sir Jimmy took the moment to look over her, while she and all the others gnawed, heads down at their food. Seven blond heads, all working at their well-earned feast.

He enjoyed watching her, when she did not know she was being watched. She acted different, squirrelly, when she noticed someone was paying her any attention. It took all of the fun out of it. Sir Jimmy preferred to observe her in her natural state, unbothered and relaxed. She had grown very pleasing to look at, she had a symmetrical, soft face and bright, awake eyes. She might not be the very best fighter of the Fingers, that position, Jimmy thought to himself, was undoubtedly undefeated by Jimmy Ink, his pointer finger so to speak, but she was one of the wisest, and at appropriate times, the kindest of his followers. She did not hesitate to kill, but he could tell that she noticed many little things, and would go out of her way to help the other Jimmies along, or ask him questions when he himself had not noticed there was an issue on his mind, and it seemed to alleviate many of the stresses he faced.

Jimmy Bat was saying something quietly to Jimmy Ink. He was burning to know what it was, he hated when the Jimmies spoke and he could not hear it. Sometimes they would even be talking right next to him, and Father would whisper in his ear, and he could hear neither, so he would snap at whichever Jimmy it was to shut them up as Old Nick’s words ran superior.

Sir Jimmy was getting lost in Jimmy Bat’s face, trying to read her lips, when she looked up at him, breaking the trance. Not one to ever back down from eye contact, Sir Jimmy held her eyes for a moment longer, until her eyes fluttered away and back to Jimmy Ink.

It had taken some months of the group slowing down, taking winter shelter, for Sir Jimmy’s mind to come to such a halt, for once, that he began to think longer about his Fingers. And slowly he had begun to take great interest in the thoughts of his little songbird, and she had begun to occupy his mind whenever his mind grew quiet enough to hear himself think, when he would gaze up at the canopy of his kingly bed. And he quickly banished those thoughts, sometimes himself, or sometimes Father would speak to him and command him to slap himself across the face, to focus, to listen.

And so Sir Jimmy averted his gaze, flexing his jaw, as the hard slap he had given himself last night still stung when he thought about it.

—

After dinner, we moved on to the main hall, Sir Jimmy had said he wanted to explain to us the plan that he had been working on.

Jimmy Ink and I sat by each other, I rested my head upon hers, as we were often known to do. I enjoyed having a friend to be close with, it would otherwise be quite a lonely life, even though we were a large group. I suppose seeing Jimmy Junior and Jimmy Jam so close with each other left me longing for closeness, sometimes. Many nights in my hall were spent admiring art, but just as many were wishing we were all allowed to share rooms, or even better yet, that we were on the road again like usual, finally continuing our mission.

In general, we were all itching for bloodshed, itching for excitement, as was Sir Jimmy. We had started to try and trap the demons we could find, tie them up, and torture them, although it wasn’t the same at all. We weren’t helping Old Nick that way, and Sir Jimmy seemed to get no satisfaction from it either, leaving him in a worse and worse mood. Morale, despite the feast, was at an all-time low.

Jimmy Noose stood close to Sir Jimmy, as if second in command, but when he began coughing, Sir Jimmy eyed him up and down, rolled his eyes and motioned for him to back off.

“I was chokin’ on some o’ the deer meat.”

He explained himself, but Sir Jimmy did not want to hear it.

“Then ye can choke further away from me, ye pest.”

He spat, and turned back to all of us, as if turning a new leaf.

“Ye’ll be happy tae hear that Father came tae me last night, wi’ some grand news.”

He paused.

“We are tae visit our home, where we last conversed face tae face, where I witnessed him lead the charge on Judgement Day so many years ago.”

“Didnae ye say we shouldnae go back there?”

Jimmy Junior asked.

“Yes, yes I did, Jimmy.”

Sir Jimmy paused, thinking for a moment.

“But ye might remember that I also said that it was because of Jimmy Car, fer he was frightened of the cry of the mighty golden eagle, which roosts in the Highlands, that scared piece o’ shite.”

Jimmy Junior looked confused, he seemed to have forgotten, but trusted Sir Jimmy.

“And now Old Nick wishes we travel tae that sacred place, he didnae explain why, but we will find out. That is our mission. Howzat?”

“HOWZAT!”

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 130k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Chapter 13 - Water Into

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 13 - Water Into

Jimmy Ink and I passed our little bottle back and forth, taking competitively larger swigs as we went on, and then grabbed another, as if it were a game. By the end of it, we had each had around four bottles respectively.

When I had rounded up the rest of the Fingers, Jimmy Junior and Jimmy Noose had also found similar bottles, and we had a whole stack of them divvied up between us.

The stars came out above, the fire sent swirling, alternating smoke signals up to the heavens, and the crickets hummed from the forest surrounding the pool area. It reminded me of many idyllic, summer nights I had had, camping under the firmament with my parents.

Sir Jimmy leaned back, resting on the palms of his hands, closed his eyes and raised his face skyward. Him and Shite had been drinking the most, and were hardly intelligible when they spoke. I had never drunk before, and this crowd rarely did either, so the alcohol went straight to our heads. The smallest of us, me, Ink, Jam and Cornetto, felt the effects even faster.

The tall walls of the pool were doubling and then snapping back into place, blurring and un-blurring in the rhythm of my heartbeat. My face felt barely attached to the rest of me, numb and distant, but in a good way this time. Not as if I were trying to forget about my surroundings, but as if I wanted to sense them even deeper.

I began to hum along with the song of the crickets, the humming passing through my lips without me really registering it, or intending others to hear it. Jimmy Ink turned to me, fascinated, her face bore the expression of someone listening to an interesting story.

Shite and Noose were wrestling off further away from the fire, nearly crashing into our pile of empty bottles, Junior threw a stick at them to watch out, which would momentarily remind them to move further down the pool, and soon they would come crashing over again, until Junior threw himself into the match and they tumbled away. Jimmy Jam clapped and cheered them on, she was now fully moving on all fours, embracing her hound-like behavior to the fullest, as if the drinking had unmasked her true face.

Sir Jimmy remained still, eyes closed, and breathed heavily. I wondered if he was alright. I stopped my humming and playfully slapped at Jimmy Ink’s face to get her to look somewhere else, anywhere else but at me. I was growing paranoid under her gaze.

Sir Jimmy opened his eyes, just slightly into slits, and looked over at us.

“Sing us somethin’, Jimmy.”

He said.

Jimmy Ink held her breath, then burst out laughing.

“Why the fuck do ye want me to sing?”

She guffawed and lazily swung her arm at him, bottle in hand, nearly spilling its contents.

“No’ ye, ye dafty, her.”

I was busy looking off somewhere else, studying the ever-moving walls of the pool, and the doubling Jimmy Cornetto sitting across from me through the fire, then he began to triple and quadruple, and I didn’t even hear Sir Jimmy speak to me.

Jimmy Ink nudged me out of my lull.

“Sing fer us.”

Sir Jimmy repeated himself, trying to sit up straighter.

“I’ve heard ye. It isnae a celebration without a song, and none o’ these fuckers could carry a tune tae save their life.”

Sir Jimmy said. Jimmy Ink waited, then burst out laughing, ending her laugh with another long swig, no longer sharing with me.

“I cannae think of anythin’ to sing.”

I replied in full honesty. I truly could not think of anything, my mind was blank. Only one or two lines came to my head, and they were from songs about God, gospels my parents had taught me, nothing for a celebration like this, and nothing for this crowd who hissed like snakes at the notion of Christ.

“Just the other day, that wee melody ye were chiming-”

Sir Jimmy insisted, snapping his fingers, trying to remember how it went.

Now I recalled, I had been skinning a rabbit, off to myself, and had hummed a tune as I did. I had only hummed it, though, not sung it. For there was plenty a mention of the Lord in it, and, though I thought I had been alone, I was still careful not to use his name any longer.

“Ye wouldnae like it, ma parents taught me that one, it was very… heavy on the mention of god.”

I said, the last part almost a whisper. I anticipated a sudden angry outburst, maybe even something flung at me, but Sir Jimmy simply waved it off.

“I donnae care, just replace that shite’s name with mine, and ye’ll be alright.”

He noticed that I did not seem convinced.

“Promise.”

He said and winked.

It would be quite easy, as the mention of God was Lord, just as was Jimmy’s full name. I hoped that he would be fine with it.

I stood up with a confidence I could only ascribe to the wine, and three pairs of eyes followed me.

Next to the crashing, hitting and cheering sounds from the far end of the pool, next to the crickets, and next to the crackling fire I added my voice to the choir.

“Lord I’m one, lord I’m two…”

I began, and again I was anticipating Sir Jimmy getting angry, but he did not. Maybe it was also granted to the wine.

“Lord I’m three, lord I’m four…”

I made sure to look at him whenever I said lord, to signify that it was him I was speaking of,

“Lord I’m five hundred miles, from my home.”

I drew out home for longer than the other words, and slowly gained confidence with each word, as no harassment had been hurled my way so far,

“Five hundred miles, five hundred miles…”

Images of the cottage flooded into my mind,

“Five hundred miles, five hundred miles…”

I saw my parents’ faces, looking back at me in a forest, checking if I was keeping pace, and smiling wide upon seeing that I was,

“Lord I’m five hundred miles,”

I got slower, breathing heavily,

“From my home.”

The last word rang out long and clear through the night air. Sir Jimmy had closed his eyes once more, leaning back, and was swaying to my song.

“Howzat?”

He said, but I did not answer, neither did Jimmy Ink or Jimmy Cornetto, they simply nodded.

“I didnae need to change a word for ye.”

I began, thinking that perhaps I should justify it.

“Aye, as if it were written for me.”

Sir Jimmy purred, basking in the idea of him having such an impact.

“Ye should change all yer songs like that, I’m sure it would please Old Nick greatly.”

He continued.

I nodded, solemnly. I slowly sat back down, and finally Jimmy Ink offered me another sip.

Sir Jimmy sat up straighter again, though it looked like it was quite a challenge to do so. He did not call upon the others, still fighting, as he began another sermon.

“Ye can thank ma Father for the wine. For folk used to preach that it was Jesus who was able to turn water intae wine, but that was a fuckin’ lie, and no livin’ person had any example for it. When in fact it was our Satan who had created it, and he had no need to turn ordinary water intae wine, he simply provided us with it, in full bounty, and he made sure to create it so that upon Judgement Day we would still be able to drink it, and to enjoy it, and for it to ripen with every passin’ day.”

We nodded along to his speech, intrigued. As Sir Jimmy spoke, it began to softly rain, at first punctuating the smoke, dousing little bits of the fire, and then dappling the concrete ground around us in a deeper gray.

“Ah, ye see? There he is. He is whisperin’ to me now, I can feel his lips upon my ear,”

Sir Jimmy went on, not breaking the pace of his sermon, and he looked warmly upon me.

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 125k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 12 - The Tower

I peered down over the edge of the tower. When Sir Jimmy had relayed his message from Satan, I had not thought that he would lead us here.

Sir Jimmy was with me, standing right behind me, hands clasped behind his back, surveying me and Noose handling our captive. The stranger was bound and gagged, Noose rested one large hand on his shoulder, and I held a knife to his throat. He had been slashed open and partially skinned. There was a checkerboard design carved into his abdomen, which Jimmy Ink and Jimmy Jam had taken turns filling out with “X”s and “O”s. Jimmy Ink had won.

I had looked away during the ordeal, the man had made such terrible sounds, he did not even sound human anymore. It attracted some infected, which we others made short work of. Sir Jimmy had orchestrated the whole thing from under his canopy, eyes glistening out of the shadows. That charity had not been all that his father had requested, not yet. He had requested to do the killing himself. I did not know how he would do it, but Jimmy assured us he would find a way to make it happen.

He led us to an old abandoned outdoor swimming pool. It used to be a place that people went to play, there would be water filled into the big holes in the ground, and slides gushed water into them, and there were kiddie pools and large towers from which people would jump for fun. I was deathly afraid of heights, I could not fathom the concept of putting oneself through a sort of torture for a day off, just like so many things that humans used to do perplexed me.

Sir Jimmy told us tales of the time he had visited such a place, how he and his siblings had braved the thirty meter high tower. It was a different pool, and he did not recall where it was, so he could unfortunately not take us there, but he said the three meter tower here would do as well. It was deeper, after all, seeing as the water was not there to catch one’s fall.

He came up from behind us now, circling the three of us like a wolf.

“The closer tae the sky, the closer we are tae Old Nick.”

He began, he stroked one of his hands with the other, playing with his rings.

“And Father said he wanted tae take revenge intae his own mighty hands.”

His cadence was that of a preacher, royal and mighty. His voice bellowed down to the rest of the Jimmies, who were positioned equally around the big square hole in the ground.

The stranger shivered, spasming in our grasp, he ventured a quick glance down off the tower, and recoiled, crying.

“What are ye cryin’ about?”

Sir Jimmy asked him, a tinge of humor to his rasp.

“Ye brought this upon yersel’. Ye donnae touch what is mine, ma Fingers, ma Fist. They are sacred.”

He stood still, squarely in front of the man.

“Ye wanted tae defile Jimmy here, didnae ye?”

He waited. The man, for the first time, didn’t move a muscle.

“Didnae ye!?”

Jimmy shouted, his large nostrils flaring with excitement. He prodded the man in one of the darkened squares on his stomach, he nearly folded himself in two, doubled over in pain. He nodded, biting hard onto his gag.

Sir Jimmy enjoyed the sight of it. He was almost drooling with anticipation. He tore himself away from the sight, turning to the front of the tower, and looking up at the sky.

“Are ye here with us, Father!”

He barked.

“Tae see this mewlin’ piece o’ shite kick the bucket!”

He awaited a response.

“Grand.”

He turned back to us, and with a soft wave of his hand signaled Noose to release his grip on the man. He nearly fell without the hands of Noose, and cowered before Jimmy, my knife made a slight cut into his neck and he sank down, I adjusted, not wanting to slit his throat before the intended charity could be carried out.

“Jimmy,”

Sir Lord said, meaning me,

“Father wants ye tae do the honors.”

My eyes widened. I had only taken one life, that of Jimmy Car, and it had been in a fight. I had no choice, he was coming at me, wanting to murder me. It was purely instinctual. Those were the things I had told myself over and over again, every night, when I heard the cracking of Jimmy Car’s skull echo in my head.

My mouth hung open, the words escaped my lips uncontrolled by my brain.

“Me?”

Sir Jimmy chuckled.

“Course I fuckin’ mean ye.”

He seemed almost confused that I would not jump at the opportunity. His eyes twinkled with confusion.

“Or dae ye no’ wannae get yer revenge on this snivelin’ cunt?”

His question, to him, was plain and simple. Even if this man hadn’t tried to hurt me, Sir Jimmy would not have understood my dilemma.

I hesitated, I did not want to disobey him, I wanted to make him happy, but I did not want to be responsible for killing this man. It was like an invisible barrier, impossible to penetrate.

Sir Jimmy held my gaze, growing from confused to annoyed.

“If ye donnae push him off the tower, yer sailin’ down and we’ll still push him on top o’ ye. So do as yer told,”

He growled, low,

“Or yer first.”

He did not have to tell me twice. Suddenly the invisible barrier disappeared, he had given me a gracious gift now, an excuse to kill. It was my life or his, once more.

I released the knife from the man’s throat, Sir Jimmy sprang out the way just in time, as I kicked the man in his back as hard as I could, and without a trace of elegance he fell first to his knees, right at the edge, and toppled off the tower. His fall was about six meters, counting the depth of the pool, and I did not see it, but felt the time passing before I heard the terrible splat. The splat that could have been me.

Sir Jimmy walked up to the edge, and let out a long whistle.

“Phew.”

He went, grinning.

“That was a beauty. Well done, Jimmy.”

He turned to face me. His rotten teeth beamed at me, but as they always did, his pretty blue eyes made up for it. He adjusted his purple velour tracksuit that had slightly shifted and smoothed one hand over his chest. He seemed like he wanted to say more to me, hesitating, but instead turned back to the front of the tower, addressing the Jimmies below.

“HOWZAT!”

He shouted.

“HOWZAT!”

We cried, and I even saw Noose smiling at me, which quickly vanished the moment I caught it.

Sir Jimmy spun around once more, a finger of his outstretched as if to point, but he simply shook it at his side, and sauntered past me and Noose.

“That’s good, that’s good…”

He muttered to himself, he glanced at me, then back at the ground and headed for the ladder.

—

We made our camp in a neighboring pool hole, the stench of the rotting corpse was unappealing to us, at least, all of us but perhaps Jimmy Jam. We had a little fire burning which Ink and I had built, and resumed our classic arrangement of sleeping cots.

Sir Jimmy had sent us to fan out and explore the entire property, there was a snack bar, with tables that had large umbrellas opened over them, and vending machines with countless pictures of sodas and candy bars. Jimmy Junior commented that he had once tried to eat an old candy bar, a Twix, and then had thrown up for two days straight, which made us all laugh.

Jimmy Cornetto was tickled to find a great blue trove inside, with a plexiglass top, and on the side it read Cornetto, and there was a picture of an ice cream. I did not know that that was what his namesake was, I hadn’t known all this time and had been too afraid to ask. Perhaps because I thought it was something obvious and that they would think I was stupid, or because it was something so horrific that it would traumatize me, as many Jimmies were seemingly named after the circumstances in which they were found, me included, but there didn’t seem anything scary about an ice cream.

Cornetto threw the old expired packages of ice cream out of the trove, ripped out the metal grids and climbed inside.

“Good night.”

He said, and pretended to sleep, we lost our minds laughing. He opened one eye and grinned.

“It’s quite comfortable.”

He went on. Sir Jimmy grinned.

“But ye should never close the lid, if ye hide in such a contraption, Fingers.”

His tone changed, and we stopped laughing.

“In my village, comin’ up, there was a girl who was trapped inside an ice box,”

He paused, awaiting our reaction,

“She had suffocated.”

He lectured, and we all nodded, glumly, processing.

“Of course—her da' had strangled her before he had locked her body inside.”

I held my breath. Then all the Jimmies burst out laughing and applauded Sir Lord Jimmy for his wit, he bathed in the sensation and threw his head back. He had tears in his eyes.

“Yes, yes…”

He said and adjusted his tiara. He let them laugh a while more, awaiting it dying down.

“Carry on.”

He waved us to keep searching around with his ringed fingers, and Cornetto climbed back out of the trove.

I suppressed a grin, it was a cruel joke, but I did find it funny. It took me a while to catch on to the Jimmies’ sense of humor, but it was beginning to grow on me.

“Not yer type of banter?”

He proposed, eyebrows raised in expectation.

“I suppose I was frightened that I did find it funny, sir.”

I retorted, letting a smile shimmer through. The other Jimmies had left the food court.

Sir Jimmy seemed greatly pleased by this.

“I knew ye had a happy side tae ye, always off sulkin’ and tae yersel’.”

He smoothed over his necklaces once more.

“Thought it was somethin’ we had said.”

I wondered if this was the right time to speak of the abuse the Jimmies had been giving me, the taunts, the jabs, the literal jabs to my gut, the sneering. But it seemed to be letting up now, as if they had had to acclimate to my presence, and were slowly beginning to warm up to me. And it certainly would not help if I told the son of Satan, he would either not care, or care too hard and punish them, which would defeat the purpose of trying to befriend the others.

I simply shook my head.

“I wasnae tryin’ tae avoid ye, sir. No’ at all.”

My voice was small again, like it had been back when we first met at the cottage. Sir Jimmy knitted his eyebrows together.

“I shouldnae have doubted ye,”

His tone changed, he was switching the subject,

“Just now. That was class, ye keep me on ma toes. The way ye,”

He acted it out,

“Sprung intae action, tsk.”

He crooked his head.

“Masterclass.”

I began to fiddle with the lid of the ice cream trove.

“Thank ye. And I wanted tae thank ye for… everythin’. Jimmy Noose and Jimmy Junior probably saved my life today.”

Sir Jimmy did not answer. He seemed to expect me to say more.

“I-I mean without ye they would never have-”

“Donnae mention it, yer all Fingers upon the same Fist, of course ye protect each other. And Old Nick, he protects us all, that’s why we’re so special. And ye seem tae keep forgettin’, yer on that fist too.”

He paused, he stuck out his hand and wiggled his pinky finger,

“Yer this one.”

He laughed, but I did not. I pouted.

“Do ye mean I am the weakest, sir?”

I dared to ask.

“No, I didnae mean that at all. Ye are more fragile, sure, but ye are essential, I couldnae clench ma fist without it. And look,”

He said, holding up his hand,

“I have ma most valuable ring placed right upon it.”

He lowered his hand again.

I dropped my pout and breathed out, luckily it was dark, or he would have seen my cheeks glow once more. He did not mean it as anything more than friendly reassurance, but to me it meant the world.

Sir Jimmy seemed to be getting bored, as his eyes wandered along the wall behind me. I wondered if it was exhausting to maintain the confidence of all of his Jimmies at the same time. Daily some new issue sprang up, or a quarrel, or a question, but he always seemed quite calm and collected, dealing with it himself, or having an answer from his father. I did not want to trouble him any longer.

“Happy days—!”

He huffed, eyes fixed on something behind me. I whipped around, there were many bottles stacked on a glass shelf behind me, which seemed to intrigue him. He passed me and grabbed an armful, then motioned to me to catch and dumped them into my arms, then he took more, stuffing them in his pockets and balancing them. They were half-sized wine bottles, at least twenty, we couldn’t even carry them all.

“Wine doesnae spoil, ye see,”

He explained, and we brought our bounty back to the campfire, which Jimmy Shite was now maintaining.

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 125k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 11 - Retribuam

The man had Jimmy Jam, gagged with a piece of cloth. She was propped up against him, his hands traveling over her in lust. A different pair of hands grabbed me off the ground and stuffed a gag into my mouth as well, twisting my arms behind my back, knocking the air from my lungs, making me drop my bat. The second man kicked me in the back of my legs so hard that I fell down to my knees. I cried out in pain at the sensation.

I whipped around to face my assailant, he was equally as hideous and disheveled as the first one.

Jimmy Jam looked at me. She was calmer than she should be, calmer than I was for sure, but behind that demeanor I could tell she was frightened, the reality of the situation worming its way even through her many layers of crazy.

I tried to communicate a question, “What do we do?” with only my eyes, but she was jerked away by her head before I could act, she yelped out in pain. Like a wild animal, she began gnawing at her gag and scratching around her.

“Let’s get this off…”

The stranger holding Jimmy Jam said, ripping the wig from her scalp, revealing shorn, brown hair. It was as if Jam had been cut with a knife; she screeched through her gag, eyes widening, and she began thrashing around until her captor clomped her on the head with his fist, instantly silencing her. Jimmy Jam sunk to the ground, into a helpless mound. She looked more like a little girl now, a heap of pity. Concern rose in my chest. I could not stand her, but I did not want her to die either. Not only was she my only hope of getting out of this, she was also my sister now. Luckily, I could see that she was still breathing, her chest rising and falling microscopically.

Her captor got straight to work, laying her on her back and climbing on top of her. He seemed to inspire his friend, the one holding me. He looked me up and down, probably trying to gauge if I would begin kicking and screaming if he touched me as well, and if it was necessary to knock me out, but I remained put, stiff as a board, and tears sprung from my eyes. Much to his delight.

This was an entirely different and new type of evil. Yes, the Jimmies flayed people, yes they hurt them, but only because they felt that they needed to. These men were commandeered by pure lust.

I had once had the talk with my parents, about strangers and their intentions, especially since I was a girl, and so I knew what was to come next. I was pushed to the ground, face in the dirt, and my wig was ripped from my scalp with no ceremony. My hair had been shorn just like the rest of the Jimmies; the wig clips clung to the last pieces and I could feel little streaks of blood trickling down the side of my face where the last bits of my hair had been ripped out in the carelessness.

“Helpmph!”

I tried to yell, but the gag was so tight that I could barely move my jaw.

“No one here tae help ye now, wee lamb…”

The stranger whispered into my ear and drew my face closer with a hefty grip around my chin. His dirty black fingernails dug into the tense of my fragile skin, drawing more blood.

I froze. I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was cry. I closed my eyes, and yet more and more tears ran from them. There wasn’t anything good to focus on to get my mind off of what was happening. And it all felt real, I felt very much in my body. I felt no surge of adrenaline, it was as if all of my survival instincts had abandoned me, all my coping mechanisms, and my own body pushed me forth and sacrificed me, forcing me to live in this moment and feel every bit of it too.

The stranger said something else to me, only half a word, and I didn’t understand him. For when I opened my eyes, the end of a javelin pole had been stuck through his forehead with such precision that it only barely stopped right before it would have entered my own face.

Jimmy Noose let the weapon retreat with one strong pull, and the stranger fell to the ground with a terrible squelch. I had never been so happy to see Jimmy Noose before in my life. I could have hugged him.

He scowled down at me, but I could tell there was the tiniest flicker of empathy behind his gaze. His misshapen face seemed more tragic now than scary, the green on him less poisonous and more that of spring.

The stranger, still straddling on top of Jimmy Jam and pinning her to the ground, looked at his buddy, perplexed.

“Holy shi-”

He croaked, before Jimmy Junior backhanded him so hard that he toppled to the ground and passed out. I got caught in the spray of blood that he spit. One long string of blood and spit beads painted me across my lilac suit. I writhed in disgust and cried even harder. I did not want this pervert’s saliva on me, and even less did I want his blood to stain me and my tracksuit.

Jimmy Noose pushed me down gently to get me to still and untied my gag, then picked my wig up off the ground, as it had been tossed a few meters off. He gave it two or three shakes to get rid of the dirt and picked at it with his large fingers, removing twigs and leaves, carefully balancing it between his fingers and correcting the way the bangs lay. It was such an unusual scene that I could only sit there and watch, and I forgot to keep crying. He noticed me observing him, inhaled sharp through his nose, and then tossed the wig into my lap as if he hadn’t just shown genuine care.

“Thank ye.”

I whispered, to him and to Jimmy Junior, who was crouched by Jimmy Jam, trying to wake her up, prodding her.

“Yer one of us. Nothin’ to thank.”

Jimmy Noose waved it off, as if my words had been truly idiotic, and then went to also crouch by Jimmy Jam.

I rubbed my elbows, the man had hurt me when he pinned my arms behind my back, hopefully he did not sprain me, and when I looked down my forearms had become stained dark red with blood. Some of the blood from my scalp had mixed with that of Jam’s assailant, drenching me completely, and I shuddered at the notion. I must look almost like Old Nick now, Sir Jimmy had told us that his skin was red, as were his eyes.

Jimmy Noose decided to let Jimmy Junior keep trying with Jimmy Jam, while he bound the living attacker with a piece of rope.

“This cunt’ll wish he’d never been born.”

Jimmy Junior laughed, and Jimmy Noose began tying a tight knot that seemed to deny the man of blood flow to his hands.

“Jimmy’ll have a field day wi’ him, yer right.”

He said, looking the man up and down. He looked pathetic, hog-tied and mouth agape.

“Wonder what charity Old Nick’ll decide on…”

Jimmy Junior mused, seemingly giving up on Jimmy Jam for the moment.

“I hope he lets us enact the removal of the shirt.”

Jimmy Noose grinned wickedly. I did not know of this charity, or any charity of that matter. Sir Jimmy had not mentioned them yet in his sermons, no specifics at least. He did go on and on about why and when to enact charity, but not how. I wondered how many there were. I could not remember what charity had been bestowed upon my family, that entire night was a blur. All I remember now was that God did not come to help us, and I remember taking comfort in the fabric of Sir Jimmy’s suit, and not any more than that. The rest of the memories faded with every passing day, and those two that I could remember kept growing and growing.

“Aye, that would be class.”

Jimmy Junior answered, now flicking at Jimmy Jam’s nose in play.

“She’s no wakin’ up.”

“What should we do?”

Jimmy Noose asked.

“She’s alive.”

“I know, ye stupid cunt. I wasnae sayin’ we’d leave her. I’m askin’ what the fuck we should do with her?”

“I’ll carry Jimmy, you take the arsehole.”

Jimmy Junior proposed, leaving me still out of the conversation.

Noose grunted in agreement.

“Should we clean up Jimmy here?”

His eyes shot over to me,

“Before we go back tae camp? Well, true it might be upsettin’ tae Sir Jimmy, seein’ as he keeps goin’ on and on about our new foal here…”

The surprise was clear to read on my face. I had never gotten the impression that Sir Jimmy particularly liked me, he seemed enamored with Jimmy Jam as his pet, he seemed proud of Jimmy Ink, he found Jimmy Cornetto to be a laugh, and he relied on Jimmy Noose as his henchman, but I had never felt singled out or had received special treatment in any way. There were only rare occasions that I was close to him. I had almost never even been alone with him, we were always all together or off doing tasks. I could not picture it, him speaking about me when I was not there. But Jimmy Noose was simply making an observation, there was no reason to lie.

The worst part was that it pleased me greatly. Sir Jimmy had a way of keeping everyone under his thumb, seeking his approval, and I admit that I was no different. He had that sort of face, that smile, that was encouraging to receive. As if he truly saw you, truly believed in you, truly cared. A smile that seemed to erase all of his other traits, even his golden teeth, and instead it washed a warmth over whoever was lucky enough to receive it.

“Let him see what they did, maybe it’ll rile him up, and Old Nick will sense his son’s plight, and be all the more vengeful.”

“Remember last time someone tried tae bend one o’ his Fingers?”

Noose remarked, all-knowing, and Junior laughed wickedly in response. They did not feel the urge to elaborate with me.

“We should do somethin’ with this fucker,”

Noose went on, gesturing at my attacker,

“tae show initiative, or Jimmy’ll be mad…”

Noose carried the unconscious man, and Junior carried Jam, while I took nothing but my bat and her wig with me. The boys had undressed the dead man and carved the name “JIMMY” into his flesh, right across his chest. I had to look away so I would not throw up, but it did give me quite some satisfaction to know that justice, however small, had been served.

All the way back to camp my heart was glowing at what Noose had said. Sir Jimmy liked me. He spoke kindly of me. At least, I hope that that was what Jimmy Noose was referring to. Perhaps he had made an offhanded comment once, and they were blowing it out of proportion. But anything besides indifference was a win in my book.

We neared the camp grounds. It was midday now, and the sun was beating down on us from directly above. Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal was writing something into the dirt with a stick opposite Jimmy Cornetto, seemingly explaining plans on where we would travel to next. Cornetto was listening intently and was placing rocks into the map.

Ink and Shite were stringing up a tarp over Sir Jimmy’s cot, he had predicted that it would rain in the evening, and his predictions on matters of weather were almost always right. Old Nick controlled the weather, and when we were thirsty he would gift us rain, and when we were cold he would bring out the sun, and when we had been slothful or had given Jimmy backchat he would send any number of things to punish us, or messages in the clouds of his discontent. I could not argue with that, and I had never seen such evidence of God before either. Weeks ago, I had prayed then to God to send me a sign, to prove to me he was with me, but nothing ever came.

I had nearly forgotten the horrific state I was in until we entered the campsite, and Sir Jimmy looked at me, not only startled, but after adjusting to us and seeing me covered in blood and disheveled, he looked upon me with genuine concern.

He was seldom speechless, he always had a quick wit and a saying for just about anything, but his lips moved wordlessly as he looked me up and down.

“It isnae mine.”

I quickly said, to set his mind at ease.

“Not all of it.”

He shot a questioning glance to the other two and their bundles, raising a brow.

Jimmy Noose grunted:

“Caught this piece o’ shite assaultin’ Jimmy Jam. There was a second one gettin’ at Jimmy Bat, but he got the fun end of the stick then.”

Jimmy Noose raised his javelin, which was filthy, and he and Jimmy Junior exchanged an amused look, as if it had been a game.

Sir Lord Jimmy raised an open hand and stood up slowly, approaching all of us new arrivals.

He stalked, almost carefully, up to me and met my eyes.

“Were ye hurt?”

“No, Sir Jimmy.”

“Were ye touched?”

“…No, Sir Jimmy.”

“Wouldae been—”

Jimmy Noose interjected. Sir Jimmy shot him a minuscule glance, then returned to me.

“Are ye alright?”

I nodded in response. It felt strange to hear him speak in this cadence, like real conversation, no theatrics.

He lingered for a moment longer, then accepted my answer and moved on to Jimmy Jam. He tutted and stroked her bare head.

“Poor lass, how long has she been asleep fer?”

Jimmy Junior shrugged, making her shake in his arms.

“Lay her down, feet above her head. Ink, Shite, take care of it.”

Sir Jimmy ordered.

“And him…”

He went on to the stranger, who was beginning to stir on Noose’s shoulder. A sadistic sneer graced Jimmy’s lips now, as if he were already picturing the acts of revenge they might inflict upon this man.

“Old Nick says… charity!”

He said “charity” with such fanfare, such theatrics, and so loud that the stranger began to wriggle in his ropes. Sir Jimmy enjoyed the sight of his victim in panic.

“What kind?”

Noose asked, giving the man a good, tough shake to get him to stay put.

“Father is takin’ a while, he is thinkin’… this isnae a common situation, ye must understand…”

The Jimmies leaned in, intrigued. Sir Jimmy continued to listen to his Father, who had to be whispering right into his ear. He put a finger to his mouth, as if amused by what Old Nick was sharing with him.

“Yer aff yer heid, Father!”

He laughed, seemingly enjoying in equal parts the way in which this was scaring the man and making us Fingers jealous.

“He has decided.”

Sir Jimmy said after a while. He looked straight at me. Now, he no longer had the same concerned, warm expression. He looked bloodthirsty.

“He said tae me, Mihi vindictam ego retribuam…”

He paused,

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 125k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 10 - The Hunt

I’d been running with them for a few months now, the scars above my brow had started to heal over. I had not gotten used to the daily rhythm yet, as it was ever changing. If we were camping, some of us would hunt and scavenge for food, while other Fingers prepared the shelter, and all the while Sir Jimmy would be in communication with his Father, or he would be observing, or correcting, or resting. He claimed that he was doing the hardest job, that it was physically quite taxing to call upon his Father, or always be ready for his messages. And that he also needed beauty sleep, and he was the one to make the first impression when meeting other living people, and he wanted to maintain a royal look. Although he still did not clean his teeth, or truly bathe often enough for that to come true, I thought to myself.

I had only once broached the subject of dental hygiene to this lot, demonstrating the trick my parents had shown me, using old twigs to chew on and create little fibers, which could be used to scrub your teeth, and to use ash in a paste to wash away more of the filth, but the Jimmies did not want to hear it, and I abandoned the idea. Whenever I was trusted to walk a few paces of a hunt all alone, I would grab some twigs to chew upon, not wanting my mouth to ever reach the state of some of the Jimmies’.

If we were taking over a structure, first we would clear it of the infected. I had finished off quite a few of my own by now, and was getting the hang of it. Only one time an infected got so close it could have scratched me, but I’ll be damned if these tracksuits don’t work, the claws, fingernails, slid right off. I remained unblemished and broke open its skull with my trusty bat.

I had made the alteration Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal had requested of me, it now donned a new suit, not just one cross turned on its head, but six, one for each infected I had slaughtered. I would resume notching new ones into it after every skirmish.

When we cleared a new structure of the infected, Sir Jimmy would orchestrate us, pointing out directions, barking orders like: “On yer six, on yer one, on yer twelve.” Which I came to react quite intuitively to. He remained unblemished that way, his velour tracksuit not catching even a fleck of blood in the time I had known him.

We had yet to meet any humans, and I thanked the Lord, usually both of them, that we hadn’t. I had begun praying to God and Satan alike, unsure of who was listening.

I was frightened of the notion that Jimmy would expect me to kill another living being. Jimmy Car’s cracking skull still haunted my ears every night when I would try to sleep. I would be exhausted from a long day, walking kilometer after kilometer, skinning animals, listening to Jimmy preach about the dominion of Satan, and all I would want to do was match the pace of my breath to my fellow Fingers, when - crack! - I would be shaken alive again, wide awake and unable to close my eyes.

I would set up my knapsack, I now had my very own, by Jimmy Ink, my closest ally. She was gruff and unkind, blunt and a little mean, but she was less mean to me than the others were, and she was handy with her knife, and I calculated my chances as being safest sleeping next to her.

She never sought me out, I would tag along behind her, trying to learn her tricks and skills without asking any dumb questions, she hated dumb questions. But she would come to my defense, subtly, when the other Fingers picked on me. Only her and Sir Jimmy were yet to truly embrace me. The others still mourned Jimmy Car, and though they witnessed the fight, they commented on how unfair it had been. I agree, but unfair stacked against me. It was a miracle, by God or by Satan, I hardly cared, but a miracle nonetheless. I lived to see another day.

“Fingers!”

Sir Jimmy spoke. We were just crawling out of our knapsacks when his words rang us awake. He was usually up earlier than us, he seemingly had an infinite amount of energy in the mornings. I was quite the opposite. My eyes were puffy, wig askew, and for a brief moment I had forgotten where I was.

It was the part of the day I held dearest to my heart. The few seconds after waking up, where I would blink into the sun, half awaiting my parents to be sleeping next to me, or just a room over. But I would quickly be confronted by my reality. A blond, sadistic cult leader bellowing commands to his underlings at rapid fire.

I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and emerged from my sleeping bag just enough to rest myself on one arm, shooting a questioning glance to Sir Jimmy. Jimmy Ink pulled the brim of her sleeping bag over her head and grumbled, Jimmy Shite seized the opportunity to smack her, right where he suspected her face was, eliciting an angry yell.

“Fingers!”

Sir Jimmy repeated, agitated now. He massaged the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Shite cunts, stop yer bickerin’ an’ listen tae me or I’ll force-feed ye the tongues o’ the next demons we find.”

All ears were listening, all eyes were on him now. He smiled, relaxing his shoulders, which had been drawn up, tense to his neck.

“Ye three,”

He pointed at Shite, Ink, and Cornetto,

“Will guard the camp. The rest of ye will raid the forest for our lunch. Pair off in twos, howzat?”

“HOWZAT!”

We shouted back and got to work, rolling up our beds. That meant me, Jam, Junior, and Noose would be the ones to hunt. Great. If I pair up with any of them, I’m fucked, they hate my guts. I know that they are loyal to Sir Jimmy and would not kill me, though they would probably like to if there were no repercussions, but they will practically do anything to me but kill me.

When others play fought, they did so to sharpen their skills. When they fought with me, I could tell they were actually trying to hurt me. They called me names, they spoke about me while I was in earshot, they hid my belongings. Anything to make my life miserable. But what was I supposed to do, tell on them? Sir Jimmy might even delight in the idea of my pain, as it would be quite entertaining for Old Nick to watch. No, I had to weather it. Maybe it would stop when the next Finger joined our ranks. And hopefully not because they replaced me.

The four of us trudged deeper into the forest. There were birch trees everywhere, looming around us like ghosts. Dead trees, my father would call them. They looked somewhat like the skeletons of the other tree kinds. They had always been my favorite, they mirrored the moonlight when we travelled by night cover, guiding our path through the thickets. But now they were labyrinthine and almost looming.

Noose led the way. Once we got in deeper, he and Junior parted away from me and Jam, naturally seeming to assume we should separate by gender.

Jimmy Jam was a mystery to me. She was quite disturbed, I had noticed, often talking to herself, if not otherwise completely quiet. She seemed somewhat close to Ink, but maybe only because they were the only girls before I came along. Ink told me that they had found her eating cut off, human ears in a bakery, she dipped them in jam, which earned her that name. A total nutcase. She had been locked in there with her group, who had been slaughtered by infected, and she killed quickly after. Left alone with both infected and uninfected bodies, she resorted to cannibalism. What I did not like about the story was the jam, if she had that left to dip the ear in, surely she should have finished the jar before even thinking of touching a body.

She would fight like a wild animal, and sometimes Sir Jimmy treated her a bit like a dog, whistling for her and petting her on the head as a reward, and he would jokingly command her, “Heel,” or “Speak.” Jimmy Jam seemed to rejoice in this attention instead of feeling demeaned.

I was not exactly tickled to be left alone with her. She especially had been quite rude to me, once she peed on my sleeping bag, as mutts do, like she was marking her territory. She was a through and through awful human being. And that was giving her the credit of being called a human, still.

The only upside was that Jimmy Jam was a remarkable hunter. She lay low to the ground, almost crawling, her red and black tracksuit rippling like the tense back of a panther. She narrowed her eyes as if she had found something, then bounded off into the bushes, leaving me all alone.

I felt just a little bit safer out here with my bat, but if a horde of infected were to charge at me, I would be lost. And I could not lose sight of Jimmy Jam, or I would not find my way back to camp. The idea of fleeing them seemed too impossible already. I did not know how to provide for myself, without them I had no belongings, and I hated to admit it, but I would miss my friend Jimmy Ink.

“Jimmy…”

I whispered, crouching low as Jimmy Jam had. She was nowhere to be found. I could picture her now, on some tree above me, looking down and sneering at me, letting me run in circles. She might even drop some dead squirrel parts on my head.

I looked up as if to confirm my suspicions, but she was not there either.

“Jimmy!”

I hissed, growing more nervous by the second.

“Jimmy, where are ye?”

Panic began to lace my words. I could feel my heart beat to my chest. I wanted to shout for her, but I did not want to alert all the infected in a mile radius. I balled my fists and kicked the ground.

“Shite!”

I cursed.

I headed off further into the same direction she had leapt to, trying to find any sign by which to track her. Great, I thought to myself, I was supposed to track animals and hunt them, and now I had to track my hunting partner.

I could picture it already, the face Sir Jimmy would make if I returned empty handed, and no Jimmy Jam. No lap dog. Or maybe Jimmy Jam was back at the camp already, bringing bounty, and telling tales of how I got lost, and leaving me to die of exposure out here. I shuddered. I could imagine that scenario quite well.

“Jimmy!”

I yelped now, a little louder, and I started to run. I grasped my bat in the middle of it with a clamped fist, looking left to right, panicked.

I did not mind my feet and tripped over a log, falling flat on my face.

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal x You/Reader

Currently 125k words

SUPER slow slowburn

Summary: Slow Burn that will tie directly into 28 years later the bone temple and alter the timeline. we will see what happens beyond the canon ending. Reader is recruited as a Finger and falls for the son of satan

Tags: captivity, stockholm syndrome, religious guilt, satanism, extremely slow slowburn, like extremely slow, torture, implied/referenced rape/non-con, eventual tie in to the film, canon typical violence, manipulation, masturbation, grinding, morally ambiguous reader insert, sexual tension, unresolved sexual tension, voyeurism, virginity, vaginal fingering, dry humping, dry sex, cunnilingus

disclaimer: Age up to 18+ in Chapter 14, before that only backstory

on ao3 @butterflyoverthesea

Chapter 9 - Petrine

“Any takers?”

Sir Lord Jimmy sent a questioning glance around his Fingers. They waited in heavy anticipation. The Jimmies had formed another half circle around us, now antsy with interest, twisting their weapons, adjusting their wigs, glancing down at their dead friend.

“I think ye should be called… Jimmy Bat.”

Sir Jimmy spat out the “t” in “Bat” so deliciously, so slowly, that little flecks of spit flew from his lips.

“Howzat?”

He raised a brow and crooked his head, slightly shifting the tiara. He looked upon me, for the first time, with a proud, almost encouraging gaze. As if we had known each other for years, as if he were my closest confidant. As if he truly saw me. I lost track of time then and was hit with a warm bath, a wash over my body of dopamine.

“HOWZAT!”

The Jimmies echoed. I did not know if they were cheering so gleefully because they were embracing the notion of me joining them in their unholy mission, or only because they had just witnessed bloodshed. Either way, I was a Finger now, and I joined in the cheer.

“HOWZAT!”

I echoed, eliciting a wide, foul grin from Sir Jimmy. Now the words seemed less foreign, and I could imagine them becoming more and more familiar with every time I said them. I learned now that the word itself had little meaning, it was why Jimmy said it that gave it meaning. And now it was a celebration. A prize, earned by me, earned by him, earned by his entire Fist.

“Now, there are a few formalities we need tae discuss.”

His tone got somewhat more serious.

“Somethin’ every Finger must go through.”

He looked at me.

“But dinnae worry, it’s child’s play.”

He winked at me. Then he crouched down to the dead body of Jimmy Car. He rested his elbows on his knees, inspecting the body like a coroner. He made a gesture that I had never witnessed, it was quite bizarre, religious almost. It was as if he swiftly grabbed the invisible soul of Jimmy Car and then carelessly released it up into the heavens with a flourish. It seemed routine, as if this was always done when a Finger left this plane of existence and went to meet Old Nick.

His gaze remained for a moment too long, lingering at the trickling blood, admiring the crack of the skull. His lust for murder was evident once more, and again, briefly, he had that look in him, like he was getting satisfaction from the scene.

“Ye really did some damage here, Jimmy.”

He said, gaze fixed on the wound. I swallowed hard. I had never thought I could even land a single punch against Jimmy Car, I could not have dreamed of murdering him in cold blood. But in this pack of hyenas, I had already witnessed that just such a skill could set you apart, earn respect. I decided to indulge them.

“It was him or me.”

I said, voice faltering slightly.

“Sir.”

I added, more steady.

“Indeed…”

Sir Jimmy gave Jimmy Car one last look, then rose back to his full posture, seemingly having gotten his fill of the violence, his lust for gore replenished. His icy eyes twinkled all the more.

I took notice of the largest of the Jimmies, Jimmy Noose, sniffling. He looked quite shaken. It was the first time I had witnessed any sort of emotion on him. Jimmy Car had been his best friend. He tried not to show it, he tried to fade into the background, but I took note. I felt a pang of guilt. Though Jimmy Car was a wicked opponent, and Noose was a monster to me, I of course felt horrible about all of it. But I couldn’t have done anything else. I ran through all alternatives and could not think my way out of this cave.

“What kind of formalities?”

I asked. Once my voice had been softer than a mouse, but I slowly started to gain a rapport with this lot. They had seen me battle infected, they had fed me, they had joked with me, and seen me slaughter one of their own. I was gaining ground on the confidence front. Even Jimmy Ink and Jimmy Shite were starting to look at me from a different angle, so I knew at least two people younger than me that I might try to command respect over. It was clear that I would have to order myself into this strict hierarchy if I was to survive for longer than a few days, and that meant not landing at the very bottom.

Jimmy Crystal took the bat from my hands carefully, as if holding an object of great value. Still, the dagger remained stuck inside, piercing the words my father had carved in.

“First of all, we’ve got tae dae somethin’ about this piece o’ sacrilege. I cannae have my Jimmy Bat runnin’ about with a fuckin’ citation from the Bible on her weapon, now can I?”

He yanked the knife out of my bat and tossed it casually to me. I barely caught it and pocketed it immediately. It seemed as if there were constant tests of agility thrown at me, I was kept on my toes.

Sir Lord Jimmy put a finger to his lips, pondering. He tapped them a few times, thinking, measuring me up to size. He grazed the hairs on his beard, deep in thought.

“I want ye tae carve out those words, replace them with somethin’ new. Somethin’ tae please Old Nick.”

Jimmy Junior was rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Petrine, petrine, petrine…”

He said in a sing-songy voice.

Sir Lord Jimmy’s eyes glistened.

“Aye, carve over them with the Petrine cross.”

He grasped his chain, signifying what that might look like.

“And next, ye cannae wear that if yer one of my Fingers. Ye need a uniform. Strip off Jimmy Car here, ye’ll look bonnie in the lilac.”

He mused, gesturing once more down to the body of Jimmy Car. I assumed he meant the dirty blonde wig as well then.

“And lastly, and ye’ll likely object tae this, but there’s just one more procedure tae please my Father. Tae join his rank-”

His voice grew into another loud preach,

“Tae become a true Finger upon the right Fist of Old Nick!”

He balled up his fist, riling up the rest of the Jimmies.

I could already imagine where he was going with this.

Sir Jimmy came close to me, too close for comfort, mouth agape and letting one of his fingers drift over my forehead, down to the bridge of my nose. He seemed fascinated, as if already picturing it.

“A signifier of whom yer body does now belong tae.”

He said quietly.

“And that’s Satan. He is now yer lord, he is yer sustenance, and ye will carry out his charity with us until the day ye die.”

He muttered, more to himself than to me.

My eyes grew wider with every single word. It felt so terribly wrong. I had been raised to serve God, he was my lord, but where had God been? Truly, I had never felt his presence. He had never spoken to me. At least Satan spoke directly to his son, I had seen it myself now. It was all so terribly confusing. I had seen Father pray to God and get no answer, and then seen Sir Jimmy speak to Satan and be rewarded with guidance, tasks, and hope. I did not know anymore what was up and what was down. And still it all felt so distant, so unreal. Perhaps Sir Jimmy was right; perhaps the dominion of God had come to an end, and it was long past the end of days, and this was the after, the rule of Satan, this was hell.

Sir Jimmy spoke with such conviction, with such assurance, I couldn’t help but believe some of it. Why else would those terrible things have happened? How could God allow it? And I wondered where my parents were now, truly. Had they gone to God, or had they been delivered as a divine sacrifice? And with either of those options, I wondered which one was true, and in which of them they were happier.

But all I really knew for now was that I wanted to exist, to breathe, to live to see another day, and right now, with seven trained warriors taking me in as one of their own, it was my best shot at survival. I could weather listening to their beliefs if it meant I was granted a meal and protection for just a little bit. I tried to tell myself that whatever happened, I could always make a run for it in the night.

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal fixed his eyes upon me once more, and again the wash came over me. He would keep me safe, I told myself. And those feelings rushed in once more, similar to what I felt when I could only focus on the soft, deep plum velour of his chest, similar to the first time I laid eyes upon him. It was a sort of comfort that he radiated, even more so as it was able to triumph over the wicked actions he took. A thought formed in my mind.

He was my new home.

—

Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal paced about the abandoned store, surveying the work that his Fingers were doing. He had instructed them to raid the place, find anything of use for their next journey ahead. Jimmy Bat, his newest Finger, had been running with them now for a few days.

He counted the Fingers. They were one blonde head short. There was no lilac amongst them, no Jimmy Bat.

His face turned into a grave grimace. If she had run off, they would have to hunt her. And she had just managed to worm herself into his good graces. The thought troubled him. He tried, momentarily, to give her the benefit of the doubt. But he had witnessed it once already, that a newly reformed Finger tried to flee. And Old Nick had spoken to him, and the Jimmy was flayed and laid out all across a field, for the crows to feast upon. It was a fate that Jimmy found intriguing, but did not wish for Jimmy Bat.

He left the store wordlessly, not wanting to alarm the Fingers, and not wanting to admit that this Father had made a mistake in selecting her.

He strode outside, looking left and right. And then he heard it, quietly at first, but unmistakable. Sir Jimmy pressed up against the outer wall of the store, sneaking closer to the corner from which the sound came. It was Jimmy Bat, singing to herself, her voice, ever trembling and ever shy, was remarkable nonetheless.

He closed his eyes, savoring the moment, a glimpse, undisturbed, into this recently foreign soul.

She sang, quietly and to herself:

“I’m just a poor wayfaring stranger… travelin’ through this world below… there is no sickness, no toil, no danger, in that bright land to which I go…”

Sir Jimmy recognized the melody. He recognized the words. As if momentarily, he was sent back in time. He was a little boy. His father’s radio was spitting out, through beat up speakers, the same tune. Mother was there, and she was nodding her head to it. And his sisters, listening together with him. He felt enchanted by the song.

“…I’m going there to see my father. And all my loved ones, who’ve gone on…”

Jimmy Bat frequently paused, moving loud objects, or searching for words, then resuming her song. She was probably going through old boxes or trash, abandoned outside. Clever girl.

“I’m just going over Jordan. I’m just going over home. I know dark clouds will gather round me. I know my way is hard and steep…”

Sir Jimmy could picture it, she was creating images in his mind of new pastures, bountiful vistas.

“…but beauteous fields arise before me… where God’s redeemed, their vigils keep…”

At the mention of God, Sir Jimmy recoiled. He would train her to keep that name out of her mouth yet. He already envisioned the many sermons, the speeches, the lectures he would have to drill into her to get her to understand the truth.

“Ye can do it, son.”

A voice spoke to him. Sir Jimmy closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. He now no longer heard the singing.

“Ye need tae convert her proper, son.”

“I will, Father.”

Sir Jimmy spoke. He took a moment, then rounded the corner.