corpsypher - Tumblr blog

corpsypher · 2 days ago

Text

longer than expected brain hairball ahoy

something something journalist reader going undercover in john price's cult with another journalist who is playing the role of your dutiful husband.

cw: manipulation, character death, breeding kink if you squint, unedited, abrupt ending

john price's cult isn't a religious one at first glance, your editor told you straight off the bat. there's no second coming, no promise of a perfect afterlife, nothing like that. it's a cult of ideology, with price positioned as someone who's got it all figured out, who can lead the lost and confused through the world with his guidance- but there's whispers of a messianic figure with dreams that he treats like prophecy, a secret militia, illegal weapons, and underground bunkers. all from anonymous sources that you're assured are legit.

"we can't get anyone to talk on the record-" your editor says, taking a drag of his vape by his open office window, carefully exhaling blue raspberry clouds into the clean, fresh air. "-so you and cody have to go in. just spend a few months there, see what's up, gather any evidence you can, and report back here to write up the story."

"cody?" you echo, skeptical. cody's a good writer and a nice enough guy, but you don't think he's cut out for this kind of undercover journalism. from what you've heard, price runs a tight ship, and cody's the kind of guy who has his vices. you give it a week, tops, before he gets busted smoking or drinking or something equally stupid and preventable.

"i know, i know, but no one else will go- and besides, you need backup. it's best if you play at being a married couple- it'll make you less conspicuous- don't argue, yes it will. a single woman joining a group like this is bound to get you far more attention than if you come attached at the hip of a man." he points out, waving his vape in the air to punctuate his statement.

you sigh heavily, arms crossed. shit. you need this story, need to scratch the itch in your brain that's wondering what the fuck john price and his little cult are up to way out there in the middle of nowhere... so if you have to pretend to be the doting wife of cody of all people, so be it.

"when do we leave?"

your editor grins.

not even two days later you're at the compound, going through 'orientation', which seems to comprise of watching established members of the group meticulously paw through everything you brought and having to justify keeping it.

you have a much easier time than cody does- you'd been prepared for this. the only things you brought were clothes, toiletries, a journal, some pens, and a burner cell phone. the phone was the only thing close to a stumbling block- you'd had to point out that there were no saved numbers, pictures, or anything else personal in it in order to sell the idea that it was just for emergencies. you winced as you watched a woman dressed in grey rub nail polish over the camera lens, ruining it completely.

(at least she didn't think to get the selfie camera, thank god. whatever pictures you're able to take will be awkward as hell to shoot, but it's better than no pictures at all.)

cody didn't fare nearly as well. his personal phone is confiscated, as well as three bottles of liquor and countless kratom pills. they let the poor bastard keep his nicotine patches, but with the stern warning that if he hasn't weaned himself off of them within twelve weeks that the rest will be confiscated.

"jokes on them," he whispers to you later, "we'll be long gone by then."

after your bags are re-packed and handed back to you, the tour begins. luggage in tow, you're shown around the compound, which is just several trailers and makeshift buildings scattered throughout the woods.

your guides, kyle and alex, are nice enough, answering your questions and introducing you to the folks you come across. they explain how they have a deal with a nearby village- an agreement that the compound will purchase any and all fruit and veg not sold by the end of the day on the thursday market. sometimes they'll trade labor or the handicrafts that people make out here for bigger items, like the time the two of them helped build a shed in exchange for a backup generator.

you take mental notes as you walk around the colony, trying to remember faces, buildings, facts about the group that kyle recites for you with all the forced charm of a real estate agent. you're still in the 'honeymoon' phase of this thing, where they know they need to butter up new members to keep them from bolting. you play along dutifully.

cody, however, does not.

"i dunno, man. my wife might be into this, but i'm not sure. seems like a big commitment without a lot of return, you know? like we're out here giving you free labor in exchange for what, exactly?" your elbow finds his ribs.

"cody!" you hiss. "we talked about this!"

"is there a problem here?" a gruff voice asks from right behind you, startling you with a gasp as you spin on the balls of your feet. standing there is none other than john fucking price himself, the self-imposed leader of this whole operation. shit, it's game over, cody's fucked this mission before it's even started, time to think of something. fast.

"mister price, i'm so sorry about my husband- i've heard such wonderful things about what you can do for people, and i really think that seeing it in action will help him embrace everything you have to teach here." never in your life has the bullshit flown so easily, and to be honest, you're instantly a little proud of how sincere you were able to make that sound.

judging by the way his expression softens, it looks like price buys it completely. a scowl melts away into something softer than indifference, but not quite committing to a full smile.

"it is out of respect for your lovely wife and her wishes to better herself that i am not asking you to leave this compound immediately. i will not, however, tolerate further disrespect of these good people or our mission together. is that understood?" price's voice rumbles with warning, like a rattlesnake right before a strike.

"thank you." you say softly, before reaching over and squeezing cody's hand as hard as you possibly fucking can.

"yes, and thank you." cody says with the sullen attitude of a teenager in detention. price just looks him up and down before nodding once, curtly, and marching away with a gaggle of very large men in tow.

price looks back at you once, blue eyes locking on yours before he slips into a residential building- one you presume is his, based on the fact that it's bigger than everyone else's.

"wanker." cody mutters under his breath, catching an elbow from both you and kyle at the same time.

early in the morning, before the sun has deigned to make an appearance over the hillside, you wake up to loud banging against the hollow door of your little 'couples home'.

"open up! right this bloody instant!" a man's voice calls out from the other side. you're on your feet faster than cody, pulling on a robe and yanking aside the chair you'd wedged under the doorknob last night when you'd found there weren't any locks. hard as his knocking is and cheap as the door seems, it's a wonder he hasn't simply burst through what you'd swear is just weatherproofed balsa wood.

when you swing open the door you're dumbfounded to see john price again, the big man in charge, standing on your stoop- and he looks furious.

"good morning." you say, nervously clutching at your robe, holding it closed in nervous hands. you don't even know why you're shaking, you haven't done anything wrong, but something about those wild blue eyes glaring right at you from under furrowed brows is very nearly activating your flight response.

"what's this?" he says in lieu of a greeting, stepping into your home without invitation and pointing to the chair by the door.

"oh, well, there wasn't a lock-"

"bloody right there isn't." john crosses his arms and tilts his head, tucking his chin to his chest. "i know you're new here, but listen well: we have rules here at the colony, and one of them is that you will allow access to yourself at all times. to deny any of the colony this right is to spit in the face of community itself. you do not have the right to make the others feel unsafe in this way."

you blink, dumbfounded, trying to parse out this word salad for any real meaning.

"unsafe? all i did was lock the door-"

"and who told you to do that?" john asks, eyes darting over your shoulder at cody, who's only just now shuffling in behind you. "was it you?"

"i- now, look," cody stammers, clearly taken off-guard. "locking the door at night is a perfectly reasonable thing to do-"

"stop." john practically spits, nostrils flared as he pauses to find his words. "it's one thing to come here with your poisonous ideas about our community, but to infect your wife with it? when she so clearly wants to be here, to see the kind of life we have to offer? shame on you, taking advantage of such a dutiful woman."

"i- what?"

"this is your last warning. you don't have the right to treat people like this." john barks before turning on his heel and storming out, taking the chair with him. the door slams shut, leaving you and cody alone and reeling, staring at each other with open mouthed shock.

"what the fuck?" cody whispers, and you can only shrug. what the fuck, indeed.

a few more weeks go by without incident. cody has finally learned to shut the fuck up, and you've managed to make friends with a few of the more senior members like kate and farah. price, however, has been conspicuously absent as of late. you've been told that he's normally the one giving the daily talks, but something came up and kyle's simply been gracious enough to fill in for the time being.

you try to imagine kyle's words of empathy, community, and honesty coming out of john- but it's difficult. it doesn't pair with the man who, in the first two times you ever saw him, only spoke directly to you in order to scold you. people talk about him being charismatic, unpretentious, grounded- but that's not the impression you've gotten. it's hard to make anything of him based on those two interactions, but you can hardly imagine him being someone you'd want to go to with your troubles.

during the days you spend your time alternating between listening to lectures and working in the kitchen. you can't pretend you haven't noticed how gendered the division of labor is here, with women taking on domestic duties and mostly men going out to hunt, fish, or travel to town to earn money with labor.

it's hard to swallow your pride and not say anything- but you're here to get a story out, and if you call attention to yourself, go against the grain, you're likely to get kicked out before you have the chance to get anything good. so far all you have is 'they're weird about traditional family values but at least they don't make us sing'.

cody tends to disappear for hours at a time, claiming he's doing some snooping for the story's sake, but based on the way one of the younger women in the cantina suddenly can't seem to look you in the eye anymore, you're guessing he's doing a lot more than that.

whatever. you're both settling into a new routine now, one that seems to be working out. you're making connections with the women in the kitchen, and hopefully can keep cultivating those relationships until someone confides something in you about the inner workings of this group. so far all you've managed to pick up is that a few of the other senior members used to be in the military with john, and that john apparently has dreams that can tell the future. it's a red flag, for sure, but not enough to make you run. if anything, it makes you wish he were around again, just so you could maybe talk to him, find out some things for yourself.

but until then, you just content yourself with early morning motivationals, midday crafting lessons, then sweating over a hot stove right before a generous meal that's accompanied by another talk. in a way, it reminds you of summer camp. the rigid schedule, the emphasis on comradery, eating around a campfire on warm evenings, and the frustrated sighs of your instructors as you attempt and fail at the fiber arts they're trying to teach you.

in another life- one where you'd heard far less about what the leadership is up to, one where you didn't mind automatically being assigned to 'women's work', one where you had fewer connections to other people or worse self esteem- you could see yourself loving this place. the air is clear, you eat well, and you genuinely enjoy the company of some of the people you've met.

but having heard the anonymous sources, not just the information they gave but the way their voices shook when speaking against john price, you can't get too comfortable. lives are at stake, ones you plan on saving if you can by exposing truth to sunlight.

you just have to work a little harder to get what you need so you can save mary, who has a gap in her teeth and the prettiest smile you've ever seen. and jane, who snorts when she laughs and can't tell when people are kidding. and kate, one of maybe a handful of women you'd call handsome. and marta, and simone, and princess, and giselle, and so mi, and jordi, and-

so you keep at it. keep rising before the sun to make breakfasts, keep stone faced while people recite price's words about community like it's scripture, make journal entries using a series of innocuous seeming code words and phrases, pretend you don't smell pussy on cody's breath, gossip with the girls in the kitchen, and wait for price to return.

two weeks later, john comes back. he starts giving his speeches in the mornings and evenings, and lingers around the colony during the day, overseeing lessons, cleaning, cooking, all of it. nobody says anything about his absence, or even his return, so neither do you. after all, the name of the game is blending in, not attracting attention, slowly building up enough trust that these women will share their gossip with you- and tonight, it pays off.

"-heard he had another dream, that he went off to the woods to parse out it's meaning." simone whispers to giselle in the walk-in freezer, clearly unaware you're behind her. giselle's eyes go big, and simone jerks around, staring at you.

"i heard nothing, marta just needs more chicken." you say casually as possible, immediately going for the chicken breast you were sent for, doing your damndest to pretend like you don't care. you do, even if it's just mystical bullshit. it speaks to the hidden culture in the camp, a part of the narrative you will need to incorporate in your story. mentally, it's already a quarter of the way written. there's more to be learned here, and right here and now, you have the opportunity to prove you're chill enough to gossip around.

so turning on your heel, you force yourself to immediately leave the freezer, acting as nonplussed as possible while the nosy bitch in your head (the one you credit with making you such a good reporter) screams at you to turn around.

during dinner you can feel simone and giselle staring at you as you eat and listen to so mi gush about this new books she's been reading. every now and again you can see them whisper to each other out of the corner of your eye as you nod along to so mi explaining her book series to you, bemoaning the fact that all the blurbs on the cover indicated it would be much spicier than it actually is.

for the past three dinners, cody keeps disappearing with that girl whose name you refuse to learn. fucking idiot. dinners are an all hands sort of situation, his absence next to your side is glaring, and you can see price is also glaring your direction- although seeing as you've had no interactions with him since his return, you imagine it's not at you so much as the fake-husband-shaped empty space by your side.

after dinner you walk back to your abode alone, well-worn dirt path lit by torches in the rapidly dimming evening sun. you can hear the patter of hurried footsteps behind you, heralding an arrival you already expected.

"uh-" you hear simone before you feel her tap on your shoulder, and it makes something behind your ribcage twist with worry as she flinches back.

"hey, you okay?" you ask, brows furrowed. in the distance you can barely make out giselle waiting around the corner of one of the simple homes, clearly playing lookout.

"yeah, sorry, i just. like." she swallows hard. "i'm not supposed to talk about that stuff around new people. freaks some people out, scares them off. i really like you, i don't want you to leave."

she sounds so sincere, so earnest, that you can't help but feel touched.

"i'm not scared." you assure her. "and i'm not gonna tell anyone, not even cody. i don't want to get you in trouble, because i really like you, too. both you and giselle have been so welcoming, you've really made this transition smoother for me. thank you, and i'm sorry i never told you that before."

the open flames of the torches reflects in simone's watery eyes, her smile wobbly and wide, and when you open your arms she steps right into them, hugging you back.

"pardon me."

simone practically throws you off of her as she vaults back at the sound of john price's voice, sending you stumbling back a few steps. price gives her a tight little smile, one that stretches out his moustache into a straight line over his lip but doesn't crease the corners of his eyes.

"didn't mean to break up this lovely little meeting, but i need a word." he says directly to you before throwing a glance simone's way. "alone."

"oh- uh- of- of course. goodnight." simone scurries away without waiting for your own goodbye, giselle hot on her heels.

"did i do something wrong?" you ask, voice small. it's hard to say, but if your instincts about him are right, price might be the kind of man where deference will go a long way- and judging by the way he coos, smiles softly, and gently holds your shoulder, you'd say your instincts are right on the money. again.

"no, no. you're a lovely addition to our little colony, pet. a sweet girl and a hard worker... no, no, you're just fine." he pauses for a moment, expression shifting to something unreadable as he stares at your face. "however, i must ask that you pass along a message for me to your husband. skipping meals with the group- well. it's simply not done. bad enough he leaves you unattended at all hours."

he tucks his chin to his chest and leans back a bit, giving you a serious look.

"you'll tell him?"

you nod, dropping your gaze to your shoes, trying to disguise your annoyance at cody as humiliation. price's hand slides up the slope of your shoulder until he's cupping your face, tilting your gaze back towards him.

"i want you to know that even if things don't work out for cody here, you are always welcome. you don't have to leave with him, pet." john slowly leans in, and klaxons blare in the back of your head.

danger! danger! danger!

"i- uh- i should wait for my husband. at home. where he's expecting me." you demure as you step back to avoid a kiss, putting space between you. his hand hovers in the air where it had cupped your cheek, before slowly being lowered with a sigh.

"of course. don't forget about my message, pet."

"i won't, i promise. goodnight, mister price."

"just john, sweetheart." he calls after you as you turn to leave.

"goodnight, john!" you call back, powerwalking back to your domicile, leaning your weight against the door in lieu of using your confiscated chair.

shit. all this time and energy, potentially squandered because cody's bad at pretending to be married. there was no point to him being here at all if this is how he's going to behave- he was supposed to be your cover, and instead all he does is attract the wrong kind of attention. part of you wants to believe that maybe he's making progress, that he's found something and is investigating a lead, but likely the only thing he's found is willing pussy back at the cantine.

two things keep you from outright kicking cody off the piece and sending him packing- for one, you don't know how this group would respond to a 'divorce', but you don't imagine it would be favoriable considering all the tradwife bullshit you've been fed.

for another- john very nearly kissed you tonight. even if the group is cool about divorce, you get the feeling that suddenly becoming single is not in your best interest, that things could go very, very sideways if you aren't careful.

fingers crossed you can work fast enough to get what you're looking for before cody, that incredible fuckup, blows shit up for both of you.

after passing along john's message (and your own thoughts on the matter) cody finally takes the hint and glues himself to your side, making a menace of himself in crochet class and the kitchen, but at least he's behaving himself, you suppose.

john, conversely, has seemingly disappeared again, but this time, the girls in the kitchen seem more open to talking about it. apparently word has gotten round that you're chill, and you content yourself just to listen as they chirp their theories to each other like clucking hens.

i heard he had another dream.

i heard he's off meditating in the woods.

i heard he just went to the city to get more supplies for winterproofing.

cody, for once, also shuts the fuck up, kneading bread dough at your side, occasionally throwing you an impressed look. you may not ever want to work with him again after this, but you can't deny it feels good to have this proof that you're good at your job, that you can get people to trust you (and by extension, him) enough to talk freely.

after a long day of classes and chores on the compound, the two of you come back to your couples quarters to find price himself sitting on your couch, lighting a cigar.

"sit down, both of you." he says, tossing two throw pillows to the carpet, a silent invitation to sit at his feet.

"now, as shepherd to this flock, it is my solemn duty to look out for my people. the two of you may be newer, but i still consider you both exactly that- my people." embers crackle on his inhale. "which is why this meeting pains me so."

he pulls a folder from behind his back, throwing it between you and cody. warily, you reach for it, flipping it open to find pictures of cody with the girl from the commissary, printed out on cheap copy paper. there's a handful of them, clearly taken over a series of days on one of the many security cameras on the compound. he's got her bent over a stack of milk crates, clearly having a much better time than she is, judging by the look on her face.

cody's poker face is fucking terrible, embarrassment clearly visible as he throws you a guilty look. he had one job- pretend to be a pious married man. just watch and listen. go home later and write the story. and he fucked all of that up just for some brainwashed pussy.

pathetic.

"i had a dream the night before the two of you came here. i was in a field, walking by a river, and i saw a beautiful horse. she was pregnant mare, outfitted with a golden saddle with my initials embedded into the leather. she was clearly mine- meant just for me. but there was a venomous snake sitting in the saddle, threatening to strike her and infect her with it's venom. i didn't know what it meant back then, but i understand it now."

whatever this metaphor is, it's lost on you. price is known for his dreams, the ones he claims give him instructions from god- 'just as he did with joseph', price always says.

"i have allowed this... union..." price spits the word like it tastes foul in his mouth. "... to exist solely because the missus here seemed happy. i thought to myself "who am i to break up a happy, pious marriage?". so i let it continue. but now i can see she's not even surprised. upset, certainly, but that's understandable. but not surprised."

"now, john, our marriage is not your bus-" price cuts off cody with a two, sharp, snapped syllables that pierce through the air like a whipcrack.

"quiet."

price gets to his feet, looming over the two of you, and you can't help but flinch at the suddenness of it.

"easy, love. not you. never you." price reassures, hand outstretched like you're a skittish animal. he affixes his glare at cody. "but you-"

with a solid boot to the chest, price kicks cody over. you'd swear you can hear ribs cracking on the impact, and a shriek slips from between your lips.

"god gave you a perfect woman, who you bound yourself to in holy matrimony, and you disgrace your union with a nineteen year old?" price kicks cody again, the laces of his boots slamming hard into his side with a sickening thud.

"john! no! please! don't do this- you dont have to do this!" you scramble across the floor and hold onto his kicking leg, using your weight and grip to prevent further blows. you press your forehead against the outside seam of his jeans, clinging tight whispering a desperate pleasepleaseplease against the denim.

"lookit that. still a loyal wife, even after such a betrayal. you don't deserve a woman of this- this caliber." john spits down on cody, who merely flinches amd whimpers, curled up on the floor with his hands still protecting his face. judging by how hard john kicked him, cody's probably dealing with broken ribs.

you can feel the heat of john's palm against your head as he pets over your hair like a dog.

"i cannot abide by your presence any longer, cody. you are an infection, an infestation, a rot that must be removed." price pontificates, reaching into his jacket pocket.

a pistol glints in the meager overhead light.

"john, please- i forgive him, i do, please, you don't have to do this-" you beg as cody stares wordlessly, eyes wide, clearly in shock.

"i do, pet. it's my job, in fact. part of being a good shepherd is knowing when to cull the herd- and he needed to go a while ago, pet. it's time. "

the silencer mutes the two shots, but you shriek anyways. cody's body jerks wildly as his skull explodes from the back, coating the wall in blood, brains, and bone. your pulse pounding away in your ears is the only sound for a while, and you find yourself still wrapped around price's leg, too shocked to even let go.

after what feels like eternity, john finally breaks the silence.

"sit down on the sofa, love. let's talk about the future." it takes a beat before you slowly get to your feet, knees wobbling as you make your way to the couch. you watch silently as price opens the door without a word, ushering in a few senior members who quickly remove cody's body, wrapping him up in a sheet and carting him away before closing the door behind them. now all that's left of him is the mess on the floor and the hole in the wall.

"where are they taking him?" you ask voice small and frail. john smiles at you from over his shoulder as he fills your kettle with some of the potable water in your cabinet, your boxes of tea already set on the counter, clearly preparing to make a cuppa on your little burner.

"it's always best to bury the dead quickly, before they pump his body with unnecessary chemicals and preservatives." john explains simply, as if the barrel of the gun in his holster isn't still warm.

you're so fucked. beyond fucked, really. you've been incommunicado for months now, and nobody is expecting to hear from you for another few months yet. nobody will know cody is dead for a long time- and shit, the same could happen to you. easily. imminently, perhaps. after all, you've seen too much. know too much. the only thing that you think is keeping you alive is john's attraction-

-or is that what killed cody in the first place?

"how did your dream end?" you ask. you don't really care, but the silence as you wait for water to boil is oppressive, stifling, threatening to choke you.

"hm?" he cocks an eyebrow your direction before slowly sauntering over.

"your dream- the one about the beautiful horse and the snake. how did it end?"

john drops himself onto the couch next to you, arm snaking over the backrest as he scoots a bit closer, boxing you in against the edge of the couch.

"i lured the snake away from my horse with a rat, and crushed it under my boot. the horse gave birth to the sun, which lit my path as i rode the horse on a star bridge out into the edges of the galaxy." price says with such a nonplussed, matter-of-factness that the bizarre statement almost doesn't click. as soon as the dots connect, you feel sick.

"i'm the horse." it's not a question, just a statement you need confirmed. john hums in affirmation as you feel him trace his fingers gently against the back of your neck. "but i- i'm not pregnant-"

"no?" he asks, free hand sliding across your belly without warning. you bite back a reproach, withhold your instinctual slap, hoping he mistakes the way you freeze and go quiet as submission and not you muzzling your own anger.

"no."

"how can you be sure? you have one of those- those implants some of these modern women have?" he practically spits the word, disdain clear on his face.

"i- no, it's just- well, cody and i- he lost interest in me some time ago." you lie, dropping your gaze to where he's still petting at your soft belly, hoping the way you stumble over your words will be interpreted as a byproduct of humiliation and not rusty improv skills.

"oh, sweetheart." price closes the already tiny gap between you, his hip pressed firmly against yours as he leans into your space even more. "don't worry, it's all right. i'll fix it. we'll make you a mum yet. just need some time."

his lips find yours with the help of his hand anchored on the back of your neck, holding you in place and his beard scratching the thin, tender skin of your lips when he tries to deepen the kiss.

"john- my husband-" you press against his chest and he relents with an exhausted sounding sigh, but still keeps his grip on your nape.

"i believe the phrase is 'til death do us part', love- and death has parted you. so you're not doing anything wrong- just fulfilling your destiny. our destiny."

you gape at him, eyes wide and mouth open in shock- and you can tell he clocks when your eyes dart over to the gore splattered on the wall when he chuckles a little too warmly as he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to look deep in his eyes.

"now, you just forget that git. no more wastin' tears on him- i don't ever want to hear his name again. from now on, i'm the only husband you know. heard?"

the hand on your stomach slides down, deftly unbuttoning your jeans.

"w- i'm- we're not married-"

"oh, yes we are. we are if i say we are, because what i say goes." john refutes, biting at his lip as he yanks at your jeans- a clear signal for you to lift your hips so he can undress you.

"john-"

a solid hand clamps over your mouth as he bullies you sideways against the armrest, practically climbing on top of you.

"now you listen to me- i saved you from that snake, and you will give me the sun in return." he practically snarls in your face, hand sliding off your mouth for only milliseconds before he's pressing another clumsy kiss against your lips.

calloused fingers tear at your clothes as he mumbles to himself, and through watery eyes you stare up at the ceiling, listening to john talk to himself as you mourn not only the death of cody, but also your freedom.

"man and wife, forever and ever-"

155 notes · View notes