4 ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴀ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ 1 ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ.
remember when Alma says "I hope I won't have the landlord knocking on my door with the police again. I've had to kill them twice this month, it's been terribly inconvenient!"
yeah i took that line literally so enjoy our hobbyist killer Alma Peregrine committing murder xx
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warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, murder, blood
word count:
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enjoy xx
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The first time Alma had to do it, she had some trouble actually committing to it. After all, her role was to protect, not harm. But when the policeman showed up at her home, claiming that one or more of her children had caused a commotion in the town and, supposedly, damaged property, leading to the police demanding to take them into custody, the ymbryne really had no choice. He refused to be put off by her insistence of her children's innocence. So she put on her best polite smile and invited him in. He huffed, but obeyed, the look in Alma's eyes a bit too intimidating to deny her request. She lingered behind him, leading the man to the kitchen and avoiding the others. Once he slipped inside, she quickly closed the door and pretended to prepare some tea. "So, could you tell me what exactly my children have allegedly done?" she asked, hoping to distract him. It worked, and like a fool he turned his back to look at something on the wall while he responded.
Alma's fingers wrapped around the handle of a freshly sharpened knife that sat beside her cutting board, and as reluctant as she was to do such a thing, she still hummed in agreement as she came up behind him, genuinely apologized as she yanked his head back by his hair, and sliced the blade cleanly across his throat. The blood got on her hand, the knife, her table, and part of the wall, and she dropped his head, allowing the man's body to land on the ground with a heavy thud. She watched him in disdain as he choked on his own blood, holding his throat in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but it was already too late. Calmly, Alma placed the bloodied knife in the sink and began scrubbing the blood off her hands as he finally stopped flailing and went quiet. Once her fingers were cleaned, she knew she had to get rid of the body somehow. The woman refused to get her children involved, so she grimaced and quickly removed her jacket, leaving her in a thin undershirt that could be washed much easily than the thick material of her blazer.
And with some struggle, Alma hefted the body into her arms, doing her best not to look at it and ignore the sticky feeling of his blood coating her chest and bare arms. Sneaking outside to the back of the house, she unceremoniously dropped the man into a bush, hidden from view, with a quiet groan. When she was sure no one could see him, she returned carefully to the house and began the long, arduous process of cleaning up. She went to her room to discard her now practically ruined shirt, and swiftly cleaned her skin from the viscous blood that dripped down her skin in thick rivulets. It made her cringe as she dragged the washcloth across her chest, then her arms, until she was mostly clean. Still, the thought made her stomach roll and chest tighten in discomfort. But Alma shook her head dismissively and quickly donned her blazer before heading into the kitchen and started working on the rest of the mess.
The second time, Alma refused to make such a mess; how she didn't expect the blood to travel the first time, she honestly didn't know. But again, the same man appeared on her doorstep demanding to take her children. She'd been able to talk her way out of it the last three times, but this time he wouldn't budge, again. So, yet again, she invited him in for tea and watched as he foolishly walked into the kitchen, repeating his actions nearly verbatim. This time though, Alma settled for something a bit less violent, grabbing a frying pan she'd set out on the counter for the meal that she was about to prepare. As the cop turned around to face Alma again, mouth open to say something, she mumbled yet another apology, and brought the pan down upon his head as hard as she could. Now, Alma was surprisingly strong, so all it took was one wack to have the guy crumpling to the floor, skull bashed in. Blunt force trauma was a pretty clean way to go, Alma realized with a satisfied hum.
The ymbryne did the same as last time, picking him up (but not before kicking his arm just to make sure he was really dead) and carrying him to the same bush as the first time. She brushed her hands off and with a content nod, she strolled back inside and began cooking dinner, the thoughts of her crime already fading from her mind. He'd be alive again tomorrow anyway.
Out of all the times Alma had to kill him, the third time was definitely the easiest. Because when the cop came knocking and, as she once again attempted to talk her way out of it, he declared "It's no wonder they're such heathens, with a woman raising them. You need a man around here to keep them in line." It made Alma's blood boil and she just about jumped him right then and there. How dare he question her authority, her ability to care for her children simply based on her gender?! The woman growled under her breath and stated "You will regret saying something like that," through clenched teeth, fists constricted until her nails drew blood in her palms. With a stiff step, she allowed him past, the smug smirk on the guy's face only making her hands twitch again and her anger spike. Without a thought, she came up behind him, grasped his chin and back of his head, and with a sharp jerk to the side, snapped his neck. He didn't let out a single noise, his death too quick to even comprehend, and Alma let go with a disgusted grumble as he fell to his knees, then his stomach.
She glared down at him, loathing the very sight of him. No one, no one, was allowed to speak to Alma Peregrine like that. Who did he think he was, coming in here and spouting such sexist remarks like he owned the place? This was her home, her land, and statements like that would not be tolerated. "This is why I despise men," Alma mumbled under her breath, barely willing to even touch him, but was forced to do it anyway. This time she just dragged him to an empty room, locked the door, and pushed him from her mind.
Then there was the fourth time. Three more times had passed, each time Alma being able to talk him away. She'd had numerous interventions with the children, requesting almost desperately that they refrain from causing damage because then she was the one forced to clean up their messes. They agreed, for a decent amount of time. In fact, it was nearly six months before she had to kill again. He made no unsavory comments this time, but after the last time and her memory of his words, the second Alma laid eyes on the policeman her heart pounded a bit harder, anger already beginning to heat up her skin. Still she smiled politely, asking "Good afternoon, officer. How may I help you?" Gruffly, he responded "One of your children was seen causing trouble in town. There are claims of arson, ma'am. I'm afraid I'll have to take the kid into custody." She knew immediately that it must have been Olive, and mentally reminded herself to scold the redhead later.
But for now she had to convince the cop to leave. "Surely you must be mistaken. All of my charges have been home today." But the guy wouldn't budge; "Sorry ma'am, this is nonnegotiable. Just hand them over and we can go about this quietly." Alma nearly rolled her eyes. "Very well. Please come in, I'll go retrieve her." The cop nodded curtly and entered, slipping past Alma's tense form and into the foyer. The ravenette watched him with a sharp gaze, blue eyes noting his every move while her head raced to think of a way to eliminate him. She watched him glance around, absently saying "Nice place you've got here." Alma politely replied "Yes indeed. Please, would you like some tea while you wait?" The cop turned to face her and reluctantly nodded, muttering "That'd be alright." So Alma led him to the kitchen, gestured for him to sit down. As a distraction, she cleared her throat and stated "My apologies, I seem to have ran out. I'll be right back." She didn't really give him a chance to protest before she was out of the room and, with quick steps, heading to the small cabinet that held cleaning supplies.
The ymbryne looked around briefly before her eyes finally caught what she was looking for. And with a pleased nod, she grabbed it and held it out of sight as she reentered the kitchen, the cop still sitting at her table. He smiled briefly, though it was clearly fake, and she didn't return it, moving instead to actually make tea. The small bottle of bleach that she had grabbed sat in the sink out of sight, and once the man's drink was made, she quickly poured some of the liquid into the cup, more than enough to suffice. So, clearing her throat, she handed it with another plastic smile. She watched intently as he brought the mug to his lips, and took a substantial sip. It made a smirk twitch on Alma's lips, one she immediately pushed down to avoid suspicion. Once the officer had replaced the cup on the table, he began explaining in more detail his claims of arson. But he only got minutes in before he stopped abruptly and brought a hand to his throat as he coughed. He'd been drinking the tea steadily through the conversation, but now he dropped it, the ceramic shattering on the floor and making Alma sigh irritably.
She watched him choke, pounding the table as he stared at her in shock, but she just smiled at him, mockingly, as he died. Again she cringed when he threw up, falling off his chair as he tried to stumble to the sink but tripping over his own feet and landing painfully onto his knees on the tile as he continued to gag and convulse. This went on for at least five minutes and eventually Alma let out a frustrated groan, removed her jacket, and reluctantly retrieved the same knife she'd used the first time. The woman crouched down to roll the officer onto his back and as he stared up at her in fear, she positioned her hand above him, and brought the blade down upon the man's clavicle. As expected, when she pulled the knife back out blood splattered up and onto her body, covered her hand and began pouring onto her floor, promising a long clean up. Now suffocating both on his blood and poisoned tea, it took only a minute or so for him to still as Alma watched. The ravenette tossed the knife onto the counter, did the usual disposal, and locked the door before getting to cleaning.
In the time it took for the officer to return, a fascinating woman had arrived to the loop. H/c hair, kind eyes, fair skin. She sent Alma's stomach fluttering and made her heart beat faster, but she pushed the feelings down in lieu of continuing to care for the children. But this woman was the oldest of them, and she was so pretty, that when she began flirting with Alma there was really nothing the ymbryne could do to stop the feelings from returning and suffocating her. Y/n was an enigma that left Alma breathless, lips on her skin and hands tight on her hips, made the ravenette's knees weak and her hands shake. But it was such an amazing feeling that she wanted to continue experiencing for as long as the fates would allow her to.
That was months ago, and now you were a staple part of the family. The children (except Enoch) took to you quite easily, and though your relationship with Alma had caused a bit of a stir, it had settled back down soon. You were happy, more happy than you'd ever been, as Alma held your body close and her lips moved against yours desperately. This continued for a moment longer before the woman pulled away with a gasp, just as breathless as yourself. She checked her watch and, reluctantly, breathed "I have to check on the rest. I'm sorry darling." You understood though, and let her go with one last lingering kiss. And after an apologetic smile, Alma slipped from the room. You took a moment to catch your breath, but as soon as you were composed you also exited, heading to the kitchen. Or, at least, you were going to the kitchen. But a few firm knocks on the front door stopped you in your tracks. You spun to face it and hesitantly tiptoed over to the door. Slowly, you swung it open to reveal an officer in a dark uniform. He met your eyes before they raked down your body and a smirk pulled at his lips unconsciously.
"Well, what a pretty little thing you are," he mumbled, licking his lips. It disgusted you and you nearly reeled back as you exclaimed "I beg your pardon! What is your business here?" The cop huffed and rolled his eyes, smirk dropping at your rejection and declared "Where's that headmistress of yours? I saw her wandering about before, I need to talk to her about one of her children. Unless, of course, you'd like to...show me around." His voice dropped to what you were sure he thought seductive, but this time instead of repulsing you it pissed you off. A particularly wicked idea entered your head, memory flashing back to a casual comment Alma had made once. You figured that if she could do it, so could you. The switchblade in your pocket became heavier than normal and you forced your lips into a suggestive smirk and stepped outside with purposefully slow motions. Door closed, you purred "Of course I would, sir." It did as intended and as much as you didn't want to, you took his hand and pulled him away. You avoided everyone, making sure you took the back route.
Once you'd arrived at the back of the house, hidden away well, you pushed him forward. He turned and advanced on you, figuring you were going to do something...less than appropriate. You led him on, but when he was within arm's reach, you tackled him to the ground with a determined grunt. He stumbled, tripped, and fell onto his back with you on top of him. You really knew he was a fool when his shock turned to another gross smirk and he began making a repulsive comment, but then his eyes caught the knife in your hand, and widened immediately. Before he could push you off, you growled "I have a girlfriend you fucking creep," and, raising both arms above your head as you clutched the weapon in your fingers, swung down and watched as the blade pierced his throat. But you didn't stop there, every smirk and inappropriate comment he made just fueling your rage as you repeatedly plunged the switchblade into his body; his neck, his chest, until you were practically covered in blood and panting heavily. When you finally stopped, your breathing ragged and thick blood spattered over the grass and yourself, you stared down at him, eyes wild. "That's what you get for thinking you could get away with trying to take my children, fucker."
Before you could get up, still sitting firmly on the dead man's hips, you heard a choked gasp from behind you, followed by a panicked call of your name. Your head snapped in it's direction and saw Alma watching you in shock. Her eyes darted between the body--dozens of stab wounds bleeding profusely--and you, coated in his blood, her stomach clenched again, and the woman hated the way her skin heated up and a shot of arousal at the sight spiraled down to her stomach. You smiled calmly, bringing your knife hand to your face and casually wiping the back of your hand across your cheek, probably trying to clean away some blood but only serving to smear it across your skin. "Hiya Alms. I got rid of the policeman." The casual manner in which you said this made Alma laugh in disbelief, stepping closer. This time you did get up, dropping your weapon to the grass and facing your girlfriend, still smiling. Alma's eyes returned to the body, and almost against her will, a smirk tugged at her lips. "Well you made quite a mess, sweetheart. How ever are we going to clean this up?" she asked, looking up at you.
Your gaze darkened, enjoying the low purr of the ymbryne's voice, and walked closer until you were just a foot from the woman. "I have a few ideas," you murmured, eyes dropping to Alma's lips. You didn't actually expect the woman to take the hint and press forward, catching your mouth in a surprisingly passionate kiss that took your breath away immediately. You didn't touch her, knowing both hands were covered in blood, but still returned the same amount of effort, the kiss heated as Alma didn't even hesitate to drag her tongue across your lips, licking up the thin sheen of blood that still remained on them with a throaty moan. When you finally separated, a bit of the stuff had gotten on her skin, so you casually leaned forward and dragged your tongue across the area, removing the residue and making Alma tremble slightly at the feeling. Still close to her, you whispered "Now what do you say we get this cleaned up and then you can show me just how much you appreciate me doing your job for you?"
I am so loving this, I can't with tumblr❤️😂
