#john seed/f!deputy

[seedofjoseph]

JUST SAY YES

It took me all evening to draw those ropes, so I gave up on the ones that should've kept her thighs spread.

I have improved since I had Jacob hog-tie my self-insert though: link.

[paradlselost]

BOLD AND BRAVE

john seed x fem!deputy

smut warning. no explicit consent given. choking. hair pulling. biting. fingering. some oral (f receiving). p in v.

4.8k words.

Soft sounds echoed off the wooden walls of the secluded cabin, walls that had heard far too much, that would sooner be chopped to pieces and shoved through a chipper than be allowed to spill the secrets it held. John Seed was a holy man, and cleanliness was close to godliness, so he made sure never to leave things unkempt. Nothing ever had a trace of him, even his glasses back at the ranch were cleaned of fingerprints every night. Call it germophobia, call it paranoia, whatever plagued his thoughts when he was alone in the comfort of his pressed silk sheets didn’t seem to leave him now either.

Though more pressing matters seemed to be on at the forefront as he pressed her head down against the pillow, the small grunts that usually escaped his lips at this point didn’t bother trying, he was too busy in his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, he knew that fornication wasn’t allowed, and as a Herald, he had to make an example for others, though that had never stopped him before. Now only contempt nipped at the back of his neck where unrequited love bites had been left. Sure, he could be upset at how Joseph wouldn’t be happy if he found out his little brother went against the cult rules, but that didn’t seem to be it either.

He stopped himself suddenly, not even bothering to let himself finish. It was a shocking act for even him. John Seed, silver tongue of the cult who always took what he wanted not even caring for his satisfaction? Well, it certainly seemed to shock the woman under him, who turned to look at him through her eyelashes.

“Why’d you stop?” Her voice called up to him, a whine in her tone that made his stomach churn. He looked at her with disgust in his sharp blue eyes, a look she had not been accustomed to from him. “What’s your problem?”

She sat up now, pulling a loose sheet over her exposed body as she tilted her head at him. She was a beauty, really, she was, but that didn’t seem to be enough for him tonight. Sure, John felt a little bad for how he constantly treated her, but her own beauty didn’t do it for him anymore. He needed something he felt he couldn’t outrightly take, he would seem far too pathetic if he chased after what he really wanted, so he settled for a shotty substitute.

“Did you cut your hair?”

She gave him a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow. Maybe it was a compliment? He noticed something other than the quickest way to rip her shirt off this time. “I did, do you like it?”

“How many times have I told you not to change the way you look, Holly?”

His words were sharp as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his jeans with a glare in her direction, it seemed neither of them would be able to finish tonight. She scrunched her nose up at his words. It wasn’t rare for him to be an asshole to her, in fact, it was becoming a much more common occurrence with the recent resistance pushback against the cult, but she still didn’t appreciate his tone.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so adamant about it lately. I wanted to try something new, what do you care?”

She scoffed as she stood up, letting the sheet fall off her body as she grabbed her shirt and underwear, pulling them on. John reached out and roughly grabbed her wrist, making her turn to look at him. He had never put a hand on her without them both being in the middle of John getting his rocks off in her bed or against her wall or vanity, and his sudden touch startled her.

Good, that’s what he wanted to see. The Pepper girl seemed to forget her place constantly, John was a Herald, she was just someone attractive he could see from time to time to release pent-up frustrations.

“You don't look like her anymore. Your hair frames your face differently now.”

Holly scoffed at him, pulling her wrist away from his reach. She never really cared about being more than a fling to him, she liked the distraction it gave her from the newfound loneliness she felt in this cottage and maybe sometimes she did wish he wouldn’t see someone else when he slept with her, that he wouldn’t moan someone else’s name when he fucked her, but she ultimately knew it would go nowhere with him. John Seed was a man obsessed with someone she couldn’t be.

“Who, the Deputy? Well, news flash, I’m not her.”

“I know you’re not, but it's not a crime for me to pretend, and you changing up your hair doesn’t fucking help the vision.”

“The vision.” She scoffed, crossing her arms at him. Her tone was one of mocking, like he was stupid for even dreaming she could fill the role of the one person he couldn’t have. No, because if it wasn’t her hair today then it would be her legs tomorrow, that they weren’t as toned as the Deputy’s, or that her eyes weren’t the right shade. It was constantly ‘Deputy this, Deputy that.’ But Holly Pepper wasn’t enough. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m gone.”

She didn’t have to convince him to rebutton his silk blue shirt or throw on his belt with the large ‘EG’ buckle on it. She didn’t need to persuade him to tie his boots and walk out her front door, into the cool Montana night, he simply left. Trekking down the dirt trail and getting into his car, he slammed the door shut and took off through the wooded back paths. He absolutely despised driving on anything other than the clearly marked main roads, especially when it was dark. He made special exceptions for the nights he went to visit Holly, but being that he didn’t finish, his anger was only elevated.

A truck passed, headlights shining into his windshield and honking as he swerved out of the way to avoid being hit, grumbling curses under his breath that he certainly would have to atone for later, but he would happily do it when he was back in the comfort of his warm, lavish ranch. The truck was the only other car on the road, and through his headlights, he could tell he was going the wrong way. Another curse, this time to himself, no way was he allowing himself to get lost in the middle of fucking nowhere redneck woods. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he pulled over to the nearest building he could find, a clinic. Silently, he hoped someone in there didn’t particularly hate him and would give him directions.

He pulled over with a huff, looking around his car for a map, and without seeing one, opened the door and got out, slamming it behind him. The evening air was cool, and unlike when he had left the Pepper residence, he was able to now take a breath and calm himself down. Though he doubted too many people were around at this time of night, he still wasn’t a fan of making a spectacle of himself when just trying to get directions. Gravel crunched underneath his boots as he made his way to the door, hand stopping just short of the handle as he heard a voice.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to get service right now.”

He didn’t need to turn to know who was speaking to him, he could feel the air still around him at the sound of her voice, the one person he hadn’t expected to see, not after he had falsely assumed he put the fear of god into her, not after he carved the sin out of her chest and forced her to display it for everyone who came across her. Her own personal scarlet letter, though this one being born of the crimson her blood was.

“Hello, Wrath. What are you doing here at this hour?”

He kept his tone friendly and light as he stepped over to the wall beside her, tilting his head down at her. She leaned against the brick, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips as she watched him. He put on a facade, his silver tongue making a comeback as he spoke to her, though he knew well that she wouldn’t fall for his words. The best he could hope for was for her to relax slightly, to let him speak without drawing a weapon, and, at the lack of Peggies surrounding their ever-so-holy leader, she seemed to do just that.

“Just saw Nick and Kim off. Despite you and your peggies constant terror, it seems some good finally came to the Rye household.”

“Ah, so Kim delivered fine then?”

“Mmhm.”

“I should send a present, something for the little tyke.”

“Yeah right.” He earned a little laugh from her, even if it was sarcastic, he couldn’t help the small smirk that etched onto his features at her voice. Yes, John Seed was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have. “Kim told me you tried to convince everyone the baby was actually yours and not Nick’s.”

“I was just having some fun, they shouldn’t have taken it so seriously. Besides, that was months ago.” He shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside her, his goal of going to ask for directions now gone as he was in her presence. Despite his nature, she consumed his every waking moment. Every thought of his belonged to her, every word he spoke had her name etched onto it. He was pathetic.

“I’m sure it just added to the list of things you’ve done to fuck with them.” The Deputy rolled her eyes, amber ash falling from the head of the cigarette and onto the ground below them. He liked watching her supple lips part to welcome the taste of nicotine into her mouth.

“I’m a Herald, Deputy, everything I do is for the good of others.”

“Mm, remember the time you told me you’ve never lied to me?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“There's a lie right there.”

He smirked slightly, watching her with his deep blue eyes, and shook his head. He couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered in his chest at this moment. There was no chase, no cat and mouse game, just the two of them standing underneath the moonlight, with no one but god as their witness. “Well, what if I believe it's true?”

“Then you’re a liar and you’re delusional.” She hummed, looking back at him. There was a silence for a moment as she offered him her cigarette, a certain intimacy in his lips touching the filter where hers had before. He felt like a schoolboy again, though this time without the threat of his parents looming over him.

The crickets chirped around them as they took turns with the cigarette, it seemed to be a peaceful night. After a moment or two, she let him have the last of what was left in the bud and stepped forward towards her truck. Curiously, he stamped the cigarette out and followed after her.

“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding almost pathetic, like a puppy kicked away from the door his owner was walking out of. He craved this normalcy with her more than he thought he would, though part of him yearned to get back to the cat-and-mouse games.

“The Spread Eagle, probably. Gonna chase down the nicotine high with some of Mary May’s whiskey.” She shrugged as she opened the door to her truck, moving her AR-C aside and disturbing the indents of where Boomer always slept during long rides through the county.

He watched her body as she bent over to move her gun from the seat, how her hips swayed slightly. He bit his bottom lip slightly, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. Part of him yearned for his life before he reunited with Joseph. Maybe he wasn’t truly happy then, and maybe the Deputy incited withdrawals from him that he thought he had gotten over years ago, but alcohol sounded great right now.

“You seem so quick to leave my company. You’re always like this, I open my arms to you, let you into my bunker, and offer you atonement, but you’re always itching to leave. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He tilted his head as she stood up, turning to face the Herald once more.

He didn’t bother hiding the fact he had been staring at her ass for the better half of a minute, nor did her care about subduing his tone that was increasingly growing more and more lustful as he stepped closer to her. He wanted to feel her under his touch, to smell the gunpowder and blood that lingered on her. This time, it would really be the Deputy, he wouldn’t have to pretend.

“Let me into your bunker? Last time I checked you had your Peggies shoot me with bliss bullets and strap me to a chair there. You don’t exactly have a warm and welcoming nature, Seed.” She replied, crossing her arms slightly. He knew she was quickly losing her patience with him when she referred to him only by his last name.

“I just want you to reach atonement, Deputy. I want you to be better, for yourself, for the father.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he stepped closer to her, so close he could lean into her ear to speak. She grimaced slightly at the mention of the Father - Joseph.

“You don’t need to call him that, he’s your brother. And you shouldn’t speak to me about atonement, who gave you those marks on the back of your neck?”

He blinked a few times at her words, reaching his hand back to feel the indents that had been left. He hissed softly, of course, Holly had left marks without his say-so. She seemed to enjoy doing what he told her not to. Not to change her appearance so he could imagine it was the woman in front of him he was fucking, not to leave marks that he would have to explain to his followers - or worse, his brothers. But did she listen? No.

“Not you.”

Now it was the Deputy’s turn to be confused, her eyes fluttering up to meet his dark blue ones. She cocked her head to the side slightly, just enough to really examine him. He seemed confident in his words, but of course it wasn’t her, what was he trying to get out of this? “Yeah, obviously? Are you feeling okay, Seed?”

Again with the last name, it was starting to get on his nerves. He wanted nothing more than to grab her at this moment, to press her against the peeling upholstery of the old truck she drove around, to make her scream his name for everyone to hear - for her to call him not by a shared surname, but by his name. And suddenly he understood Adam and Eve, with a snake tempting him so sweetly, he’d be a fool not to take a bite of the apple, wouldn’t he?

“Why can’t you just say Yes, Deputy? Why do you have to make this so difficult? Why do you have to make me stoop into the sin you so freely roll around in?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, taking a step closer to her. His leg slid between hers as she pressed herself back against the side of the seat.

But she didn’t tell him no this time, she didn’t shove him off or slap him. He heard the breath that caught in her throat, he saw the way her eyes fluttered between his and the skin of his chest exposed by the undone buttons of his silk shirt. Sloth, written over his chest, crossed out. How would the scarred skin feel under her touch? How would the ink of the countless tattoos on his body be complimented by the scratches she would leave on him?

“You don’t need the ego boost, the day I say yes to a monster like you is the day my dignity dies.” Oh the Deputy, always a fighter. He would help her with that, gladly, a burial inside the truck for only John and God himself to witness. A small smirk played on his face as his hands trailed over her hips, a ghost of a touch but enough to ignite a fire in her eyes.

He wouldn’t need her to say yes, she would be screaming it by the time he was done. He would drag orgasm and orgasm out of her till her atonement was spelled in the arousal that would coat the truck's upholstery. He would make a saint out of her yet, make the only words that fall from her lips holy and pure till they were alone. She would never have to worry about the bullets that grazed her skin or the wounds that marked her flesh, he would wash away her sins.

So many dirty thoughts from the Herald, but he couldn’t control himself now. His hands belonged to the devil as they trailed up from her hips, one caressing her neck - which he would make sure to have covered with as many marks as he could by the time he was done with her - and the other slipping beneath her shirt. He tilted his head down at her, smug yet coy as his fingertips brushed the wire band of her bra, yet another barrier between the two.

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. They studied elsewhere, fixed on the door to the clinic and the road. What would others say if they saw the two together? Sharky and Adelaide had to have been just joking when they said she should get with the youngest Seed brother - that it would save the resistance’s ass. She bit her inner cheek, doubting that that would be the truth. John Seed was a sadistic monster who reveled in other's pain and suffering, but something about his touch made her want to melt.

“There’s nothing but me to look at, Deputy. For right now, you’re mine.”

If John was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have, the Deputy was cut from the same cloth. She couldn’t have him, not really, even if she accepted his atonement, even if he cut the sin from her body - John Seed would always be obsessed with an idea of her, she was his greatest conquest because she never said yes to him, and if she stopped fighting he would lose interest.

But tonight, under nothing but the moonlight and the roof of her truck? Tonight, she could have him.

So she didn’t protest when he stepped into her more, when he pushed her back against the worn seat and kissed her neck with the fervor of a man starved. She said nothing because her breathing spoke for her, the way it picked up and became laced with soft whimpers as he grazed his teeth over an old scar. Yes, he relished in her pain, he couldn’t help but smile at her burning in the cleansing fire of his love.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it back to expose her neck. He sat up over top of her, a small smirk playing on his face as he looked down at her. She looked so pathetic under him, her neck colored in flushed pink and dark red, a product of him. He trailed a hand down over the forming hickeys, pressing his fingertips against the sides of her neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough for her to part her pretty lips to breathe through her mouth.

The Herald reveled in the power he had over her, her life balancing in the palm of his hand. It would be far too easy to kill her now, to make up for the anger he felt every time a silo was blown up or an outpost was overtaken. How easy everything would be if she gave her life force over to him, cutting the head off the snake that was the resistance.

But it was far more fun to keep her alive, to toy with her like a cat would a mouse, to shed her of her shirt and unclasp her bra and run his tongue against her sensitive, budding nipple. To relish in the sounds of her soft whines that overtook her breathing, to feel her fingers tangle in his slicked-back raven hair.

“Fuck.”

An understatement, her words breathy and sweet, as if she was reciting a prayer meant only for his ears. His blue eyes fluttered to look up at her, enjoying the way she looked down at him, lust building on her features. She would atone for him, but not with her words.

He trailed down her body, lips catching on every old scar and bullet wound, every imperfection left on her beautiful body. She would be cleansed of all of these when he was done with her, she would be born anew with him right by her side. His fingers caught on the waistband of her jeans, dirtied with blood and grass stains on the knees, not proper attire for her baptism, so he shed those from her as well.

Left in only her underwear, shivering against the cold that seeped into the truck, she looked down at him with a frown, grazing over the silk of his blue shirt. He was overdressed, though he made no moves to match her. With his head in line with her pelvis, he grasped the fingers that worked on his buttons, giving her a pointed look which she matched with a soft whine.

“Deputy.”

“John - c'mon, it's not fair…”

“I’ll decide what's fair and what’s not. When I want it to come off, it will. For now, hands off.”

A sigh left her lips but she complied with him, letting go of the buttons he wore and instead focusing on him as he moved lower, as his fingers trailed over the growing wetness seeping through her underwear. She recoiled slightly, feeling the cold of his fingers through the warm fabric, and was met only by a soft tsk from John.

He watched her, studied every reaction as he slipped off the last remaining article of clothing that blocked him from getting a full view of her. She was something out of an oil painting, crafted by God specifically for him. How had he gotten so lucky that she was his rival? How had they both gotten to this point, surely from the tensions built every time he would kidnap her, when he would clean her chest with a sponge to prepare for the marking he hadn’t gotten around to doing quite yet.

Grazing over her folds, catching her clit in his grasp, he relished in the sounds that the truck filled with. Soft gasps giving way to needy moans as he gathered her slick and coated his fingers in it. His eyes hungry as he peered up at her through his eyelashes, tongue swiping over her once and then twice before spitting. Her fingers tangled in his hair harshly as he pushed a finger inside before it was quickly joined by a second, humming when greeted by how tight her walls were.

“Funny, I expected you to have more experience.” He grinned, his perfect snake in the garden, reaping what she had sown. John had earned every hitch of her breath, every noise that fell from her lips belonged to him. Patience is a virtue, after all.

“Kinda ha-h… hard to get some privacy when you’re the resista- fuck!”

He couldn’t help but smirk as she was interrupted by the curling of his fingers, brushing against a certain bundle of nerves as he stretched her out in preparation for his cock. He hummed in response, teasing her. How sweet it was to have the big bad Deputy be putty in his hands. John absolutely adored the fact that he was her only in a long time, it stroked his ego lovingly.

When he was satisfied with the moans that fell from her lips and how she could hardly focus on anything other than the sensations he was providing her, he pulled out. Chuckling at a needy moan she gave him at the feeling of emptiness, he licked the coating of her slick from his fingers, tsking and looking down at her.

“Patience, Deputy. Be a good girl.” Once his fingers were properly cleaned and the taste of her arousal was set on his tongue nicely, he unbuckled his pants and allowed them to pool at his ankles, his lips fluttering over her exposed neck while he worked on pulling his shirt off.

Perfect tattoos decorated his body like the ceiling of a temple, each one telling a different story. John Seed was a man who had his life mapped out on each limb, allowing for her to trace all of him, to know all of him. He pulled away from her neck, bullying his two fingers past her lips and having her suck on them, tasting herself.

He focused on the way she sucked, how soft moans escaped her, and how her eyes fluttered closed, content to have this soft moment. God, he wanted to ruin it for her. He did not pull away yet, not as he ran the head of his hardened cock over her folds, precum mingling with her own fluids. When he did pull his fingers away from her, he made sure she watched as he lubed himself up with her saliva.

He could’ve come at the sharp gasp elicited from her as he pushed inside, inch by inch till he bottomed out and she was left in a state of bliss. He groaned softly at how perfect she was, how her walls were practically made for him, dragging every noise from his lips. The Deputy never thought she’d see the day when John Seed was moaning for anyone - especially not her. She considered herself lucky that the Herald was coming undone simply by the feeling of her.

Though, her smugness faded as he began to move. Shallow thrusts at first that were quickly replaced by deep, rhythmic movements. His mouth latched onto her neck once more, his teeth dragging over her soft skin in an effort to leave his bite markings against her pretty flesh. Her nails drug against his back, sharp, stinging scrapes that complimented the dark ink of his tattoos well. He never let others mark him as she had, but she was special - he would be proud to show off what she left on him.

Her legs wrapped against his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper inside her. She was practically screaming in his ear, the truck shaking with his movements. Thrust after thrust, he abused her G-spot well, toes curling and legs trembling in his wake. She pistoned her hips up to meet his, arching her back and letting him latch onto her breasts now.

“You gonna cum f’me?” He groaned out, blue eyes focused on how she shook, how her walls clenched around him at his words. She was close, teetering on the edge, and he wasn’t far behind her. Her nods weren’t good enough, neither were the little noises she attempted to choke out between her moans. No, he wanted to hear her speak. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Fuck - yes please-” Manners and all, he grinned at her response. He had gotten her to say it, just as he knew he would. That allusive ‘yes’ he had been waiting far too long to hear. He really couldn’t help himself now as a tattooed hand moved from her hips to rub her swollen clit.

Thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier, if this was heaven the Deputy was more than happy to atone for it. Her legs spasmed slightly, walls clenching around him as white toyed at her eyes, orgasm crashing down against him. It didn’t take much longer for him to follow suit, his own cum mixing with hers, white beading at the base of his cock as he pressed himself inside her, having her take him all.

She whined softly, panting and looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. His breath was heavy, fingers running through her hair as they both caught their breath, inevitable guilt creeping up in the Deputy’s chest. John Seed was the enemy, he was a monster, and she had just let him fuck her into the best orgasm of her life. Stupid, stupid.

But John, he seemed far too proud of himself. He didn’t need her to say anything anymore, he didn’t need the taped confession for his older brother. No, now he had this, her atonement that coated his softening cock. He would always have this over her, how she screamed yes for him, and she seemed to realize that.

“You know - that ‘yes’ doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Should I make you say it again?”

[evilvvithin]

silent despair

pairing : john seed x reader (i wrote it as f!deputy!reader but it turned out to be gn too) warnings : blood and injury | implied sex but not detailed | love hate | possessiveness word count: 2,497 summary: What would happen if John was the one to survive the collapse? ➤ AO3 link | masterlist

In the first moments of coming back to your senses, the mix of strong cologne and smoke hit your nose. The air seemed heavy, almost hard to breathe and you felt like suffocating. Taking a deep breath, a sharp pain shot through your ribs and made you yelp out in surprise.  "Finally," a familiar voice filled the silence and ringed inside your aching head.  Stars danced at the edges of your vision as you tried to sit up. As if a restless swarm of bees was inside your skull, causing it to vibrate uncomfortably. Arms and legs numb you had to look down at your limbs to make sure they were really moving when you told them to. They weren't. Your hands handcuffed to the metal leg of the bunk bed, you tried to wrestle against them with no luck. "Still eager to fight despite your situation, I see. Some things about you never change, deputy."

You felt venom in his voice, anger, hidden behind his kind and peaceful mask he called a face. He smiled widely as he walked towards you, squatting down to your level. 

"Where-"

"Shhh sh sh."

His eyes piercing through you, fingers trailing the handcuffs, the stupid smile on his face. The time stopped and your eyes gazed down to his shirt which used to be blue. Just like his eyes. Now it was almost completely covered in dried blood. Pushing away the thoughts of kicking your knee into his stomach for tying you up, you wondered what had happened, looking around the room you were in for any clues.

He noticed how you calmed down, how your eyes jumped across his chest and the walls behind him. Looking for his bunker key at his now bruised chest. Pulling out another key from his pocket, he freed your hands but grabbed your wrists immediately, squeezing them painfully. You hissed in reaction, but got the message - don't do anything stupid. You didn’t even plan to. You just wanted to know what happened as your own memory was failing you due to its fogginess. Checking your ribs for any wounds or source of the pain you felt after waking up, a loud explosion deafened you and the whole room started to vibrate, dust falling down from the ceiling. There was your answer to what happened. The pictures of mushroom cloud, fire and death blinked through your head. All the screaming, pain… your friends… 

"The collapse," John looked up, the same smile on his face still. "Joseph was right, you know? He knew the whole time… my brother…" 

The mask of the baptist started to fade away - he didn't have to pretend anymore. The smile slowly disappeared as his whole expression hardened, jaws clenched. His eyes glowing with rage, but there was something else.

Sadness. Softness.

Cursing through gritted teeth, he grabbed you by the edge of your shirt and forced you up against the wall, hand squeezing your throat right after.

"You killed them. If only you listened to them! We could’ve been - “ 

The pressure built up in your head from the lack of air and vision started to blur, yet you didn't try to fight his hand.

"Doesn’t matter. Tell me one reason I shouldn't do the same to you!" 

His voice was calm but still sounded like a yell to you. You started to half laugh half cough, making his eyebrows furrow even more in fury. He was killing you with his gaze, not his hands. In his mind his hands squeezed your throat hard. Knuckles on his hand white, he’d release the grasp so you could catch a single breath just to cut your wind pipe again.

Oh, he would do so many things to you. 

"Why didn't you? Before?" You coughed. "You had so many chances."

He sighed and let go of you by throwing you further into the wall, though not so aggressively as before to kick air out of your lungs. You knew he had the reply, knew why he didn't kill you when he had the chance. But he wouldn't admit it. 

Would you? Would you admit why you didn’t kill him when you had so many chances?

John knew well you chose to hunt his siblings down rather than him. Playing cat and mouse, but both of you were the cat.  Lots of unfulfilled threats that led only to one thing - the collapse. You being stuck with him in a bunker underground. 

The longer you tried to keep standing against the wall, the more your muscles burned. The desire to lay down, close your eyes again and forget about everything again was overwhelming but you were determined to not show any kind of weakness. Your coughing and laughing filled the room. Have you lost your mind? Are you really gonna be down here with John? It wasn’t like you could change it. 

You didn’t want to. 

The shirt started to stick to your skin where you felt the sharp pain before. Your fingers felt the wetness when touching it and you didn't have to look down to know what it was. 

"Come."

Following John to the table across the room, you were sure your legs would fail you any step you took. He was watching you - was it a concerned look you saw on his face? Your blurry vision playing tricks on you? 

He was in fact concerned, watching every step of yours ready to grab your arm for support whenever you were about to fall. He didn't want you to know, he didn't want you to see his soft side. Not yet. He liked to believe he had none except for his brothers - he was lying to himself the whole life. He always had a soft side, buried deep inside him. Abandoned by his choice. Softness had no place in the life he lived before Eden’s Gate. No place in Eden’s Gate. It was a weakness and he locked everything making him weak deep inside. 

Till you showed up and made him weak. Vulnerable. He hated you for it, but at the same time admired you. You were untamed, wild fire that could make him both weak and strong and he realized rather quickly that capturing you like the others would not help him get stronger, no. You required a different approach. Approach that he thought he would never be able to do - to have feelings for someone, to feel vulnerable. 

The mutual feelings of you two, the connection of your souls and leadership - that’s what he visioned in his dreams. How perfect you two would be for Eden’s gate. At first, it seemed like a great plan, but the further John tried to make you join him, the more he started to care about you. Did he care about you more than about the project? No, he would never… He doubted himself in that question. Nevertheless he’d make everything work in the end. And he did, without even trying to. 

Grabbing bandages out of the emergency box, he waited for you to raise your shirt enough to expose the cut. Starting at your ribcage going down your belly, it wasn't deep but it was bleeding a lot.

"Just do it quick." 

Swallowing your pride, you let him circle you, touch you, wrapping the bandage all around your torso. Feeling his warm touch on your bare skin, you never realized how soft his hands could be. You believed all they could inflict was pain and torture.

"Want it harder?" 

The stupid smile on his face.

"Fuck you, John."

~~~

"You'll get us both killed!" John hissed  and caught your hand that tried to steal the bunker key from his neck. He started to wear it with him at all times since you found the spot where he hid it. And he was way more alert during sleeping than you thought. 

Saving your life and you still tried to get away from him, still fought him. Still… after all the days you two spent in close proximity. Or was it weeks? He liked it at times though. It spiced things a bit here under the ground, but he'd still rather receive obedience from you. Just like his followers in Hope County… but you weren't one of them. The knuckles whitened on his hand and you squinted as his grip became painful. The harder he held your wrist, the more you squeezed the key in your hand being as stubborn as you were usually, refusing to let go of it.

"Go then, do as you want." 

You almost lost balance and fell down at his chest when he released your hand. The tone of his voice was vile but the sparkle of hope that shined in your eye overcame everything else. You looked down at the key and hope was quickly replaced with a darker feeling - reality. John scoffed and murmured something to himself as the key landed back on his chest. 

You didn't want to die. Not today at least.

~~~

Warm breeze locked the naked skin of your upper body. The blanket must've slid down while you were sleeping. 

A breeze of fresh air… in a bunker? 

John's fingertips trailed up and down your arm softly, thinking he was gentle enough to not wake you up. His movements were slow, lazy. Your heartbeat raised a little and you hoped it wouldn't reveal you were awake. Your back turned to him, you laid still and your breath was shallow. His breath was warm against your skin. He seemed to be murmuring something to himself but you couldn't make a single word out. He was humming some kind of melody. 

All kinds of scenarios rushed through your head when he pulled the edge of your shirt down your shoulder. Pretend to be asleep no matter what? Then you'd be allowing whatever he planned on doing. Jump up and slap the soul out of him? Maybe, but you wouldn't know what he wanted to do… and mainly, why. 

Did you want him to stop? 

Did you want him to know you were awake?

The adrenaline rushed through your body as your mind was filling up with certain scenarios, making you change position in an attempt to hide it. John's hand retrieved and his murmuring stopped. You felt his gaze boring into the side of your head. Leaning closer to your face, his hot breath tickled your ear. If you turned around, you could taste his lips easily. Before you could do something you might regret later, the weight on the bed behind you disappeared as John walked away, silent like a cat. 

You were left alone with your cheek and ear burning, the gentle touch of his fingers still printed on your skin. It's been so long since you experienced any kind of intimacy, kindness in general. Past few months were nothing but an exhausting fight for your life and the lives of the other members of resistance. The few joyful moments that occurred? You were too tired to appreciate and enjoy them fully. Cursing yourself you didn't do anything when John was creeping above you, you played with the scenarios in your head for as long as sleep didn't take your consciousness away. 

~~~

"What did you do to Hudson?!" Blood was coming out of your mouth from John's punch, but the rage you felt numbed all possible pain. "You bastard!"

Him and his typical maniac smile. 

Everytime you two met before the collapse and fought each other, he had this smile on his face whenever you could've ended him. Laughing. Not really fighting you back. Almost like he wanted to die… or he didn't care if he did at least. Or he knew you couldn't kill him. He knew it and laughed at the absurd power he had over you. You hated him for it, you hated him because he was right.

"Hudson's gone now anyway, isn't she? What's all this about, then?"

Clenching your fists around the edge of his coat, half choking him with the fabric cutting into his throat, you stopped in your rage for long enough to think about what he said. You hated to admit it but he was right. 

He seemed to always be right.

Things that happened before the collapse? They were all meaningless now. What really mattered was this bunker, you, him and the danger levels outside. Were you truly angry about what he did to Hudson or did you just want a reason to start a fight with him? Did he want to start a fight when he told you, out of nowhere? 

Taunting, teasing, getting expected reactions from others just to remind himself he has power over them. Power to manipulate through emotions. Maybe he truly believed he was emotionless and nothing bothered him except his family - he lied to himself the whole time. He cared too much about you. He could've had you at any time before. Yet he didn't take you, no. He didn't want to take you, he wanted you to need him. To desire him. Give up to him. 

John grabbed your wrists to make you let go of his coat, his face unchanged. The smile… he won. He had all the reasons to smile - you were here with him, craving him, needing to feel the warmth of his body. The burst of emotions. There was no need to say it out loud. Letting your arms go limp in his hands, you leaned closer to his face. 

"Fuck you, John." 

Raising one of his eyebrows, the smile only grew bigger. 

"That's exactly what I was thinking," he let your hands go and pulled you closer by the back of your neck. 

You let yourself fall into the kiss - like a boat going down the river you didn't try to go against the stream at all. You still hated him but what you felt for him was growing stronger. Something you could not define with simple words. The iron taste of your blood filled your mouth and your tongue found his. The taste was somewhat hypnotizing, driving you further into the kiss. 

The satisfied grunt from John didn't surprise you a bit. You had an idea he'd like the taste of blood. That it'd turn him on. Violence in general. You heard the stories about Hudson and other Falls End people that managed to escape his bunker. You were there yourself after all, you spent more time with him than you'd like to imagine. 

It was all your choice - to let him live every time, let him get close to you. Let yourself fall for him. Let your lust win.

As the clothes on you both fell down to the ground piece by piece, you weren't bothered by the chilling air. You were on fire, you both were. Fire that needed to be put down and only one way of doing so. Everything about it was rough. Maybe you were still trying to kill each other but then decided not to, over and over again. 

Hate and anger being overcome by love and lust and it made you want to get lost in the moment forever. Get lost in John.

Your fingertips copied the edges of his scars, his skin still rough on touch from all the bruises that didn’t heal yet. The moans resonating within the thick concrete walls sounded like they were miles away from you - silenced by you replaying all your past choices that led you to this moment. 

Your nails clawed into one of his fresh scars causing John to whimper in both pain and pleasure. You didn’t do it on purpose. He knew. He felt the same joy, the same pleasure as you causing him to twitch and grasp onto you uncontrollably. It was like an out of body experience - like a bottle being constantly filled with water for years before finally overflowing and exploding. Exploding and being free. 

You both were finally naked in front of each other - no more lying about your feelings, no more hiding of your thoughts. No secrets. 

Bruises forming on the soft skin of your neck where John buried his head into, the sweat of your bodies becoming one. The jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, heavy panting, trembling. 

"I haven't forgiven you, John."

"I know."

[chyrstis]

Lighting the Fuse 4/?

This definitely has been long overdue and then some. To the point that I've been thinking off and on about it for the two-ish years in the interim, and made it my mission once May hit this year to actually try and update it. ...And setting that goal actually seemed to work.

This seems a bit rough in places still, but I hope you all enjoy, and goal #2 now is updating again before the year ends! *crosses fingers*

Pairing: F!Dep x Sharky Boshaw, F!Dep x John Seed (be forwarned, the slow burn is in full effect here for all parties involved, and isn’t stopping anytime soon) Rating: T Warnings: Canon-typical violence (and Hana running around like the 80's action hero she likes to be pretend to be) Word Count: 6K 

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / ???

___

When events are put into motion giving her a shot at an impossible task - capturing John Seed - the deputy jumps at the chance.

There’s only one problem.

She’s not the only one dying to get him, and keeping him alive when even his own people seem to want him dead isn’t looking to be an easy feat either.

______________

The fire hadn’t stopped. It’d spread, and a hell of a lot faster than Hana had hoped as she and Sharky kept running from building to building through the trailer park.

They hadn’t found Jerome yet, or any of the others. Sharky had passed off his radio to her as a means of getting in touch, but she’d caught two words from Jerome before it’d gone straight to static, and she’d upped her speed afterwards, looping around the lot that was at once too big and too small, curling in on itself as they ran in circles over and over.

They’d also gone through a few rounds of one-sided Marco Polo, mostly with Sharky yelling out Jerome’s name between shotgun blasts with no one other than the pissed off Peggies coming to retaliate, and on the fourth non-response she’d started yelling too.

“Jerome!” She cupped a hand to her face as they moved, and called out for him again, her voice straining, “Jerome!”

A hint of black in the distance caught her eye. That, and the bright flash that came from the muzzle of a shotgun, one that Jerome loaded and promptly unloaded into the nearest obstacle’s face.

It didn’t matter that there was a group of Peggies currently trying to tango with the man. She’d taken all but three steps towards him only to watch as he took the rest out one by one.

“Man,” Sharky murmured to her left before letting a whistle out. “I mean, I knew the dude was a total badass, but that? That’s fucking badass.”

Hana really couldn’t dispute it. Not when she still hadn’t moved past the first thought that struck while watching Jerome clean house in the distance: Damn.

But the stray shot that had her grabbing Sharky’s hoodie again to yank him out of the way snapped her out of it fast.

“Hon, focus. We’ve got to keep our eye on the prize, remember?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, that’s right.” He scrunched his face up, zeroing in on the man in question in the distance, and nodded. “Got that shit locked down tighter than tight, Dep.”

The trick was getting to him, though, as they cut through cover she tried to pick off a few of the others closing in on Jerome. No real easy feat as they had to keep mobile and fought to keep up, but even she was impressed with the distance they were able to cover as their party of two closed in on the Peggies attempting to flush Jerome out.

Focused on Jerome - who’d taken cover with another resistance member behind an abandoned car to dodge a lobbed molotov - they couldn’t hear her boots thudding against the dirt, or her quickened breaths. Not a single sound of it as she raised her gun up and brought the butt of it down as hard as she could muster.

The blow sent him straight to the ground, sprawling out as the other two Peggies scattered away, but quick as she got her gun back in front of her, she didn’t need it. The two hit the dirt in no time flat, and she whirled her head towards Sharky with an appreciative whistle.

With the path now clear, she skirted the nearby flames and skidded to place next to one thankfully unsinged Pastor.

- And the barrel of his shotgun.

“Whoa, wait, wait, wait-!” she yelled as she threw her hands up.

He started, but quickly lowered his gun. “Deputy. You might want to change your approach.”

“No shit. I’m-uh, definitely rethinking things. Either way, it’s good to see you. Is Grace here too?”

Jerome glanced over the cover, but didn’t move to stand up. If anything, he caught sight of Sharky continuing to blast away nearby, and stayed put. “She’s nearby. She spotted you before we were able to get any closer, and kept you in her sight for as long as possible.”

The green sight cutting through the air flashed through her mind. “Jesus. I was wondering why that sniper didn’t pop my head like a melon. Glad to know she's close, though.”

“Any word from the others?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” she said, teeth starting to worry at her lip. “Gave up my walkie to them, and told them all to hide and wait for word on our channel, but…”

“Pastor. Got movement on a group of Peggies heading south.“

Hana's eyes shot to the walkie at Jerome’s side, and he held it up. “Is it a large group? Any wounded with them?”

“Some. They’re off from the others, a few helping them get further into the woods.”

Hana glanced out towards the brush, looking back to Jerome. “Away from the river?”

“Deputy, wait-“

Jerome’s voice faded out behind her as she sprinted, eyes forward right on the trees as she dove right in.

Every inch of the forest loomed ahead, the path growing dark. The gunfire had died down in the time it took for her to disappear into the brush, but it didn’t take long for voices to call out in the distance again. 

If they were cut off, they were screwed. If they lead the Peggies straight to the others they were screwed. Hell, every which way they were looking to be screwed, and she sped up as she grabbed for the radio Sharky had given her.

“Jerome,” she yelled, “don’t wait on me! Get everyone out before we’re pinned, because they’re coming in fast! I’ll get the others and once we’re clear we can double on back to-“

A figure in a long, dark coat stepped out ahead and she nearly wiped out as her boots skidded to a halt on the dirt. Hana scanned him over quickly, and a grin spread across her face before she could stop it. “…Ben? You son of a-“

That’s when she saw the weapon, raised and fixed on her. And the figure holding it wasn’t a match for Ben at all.

“…bitch,” she finished.

Two others emerged from the bushes, Peggies from the look of them, and both also armed. As she looked them over, she couldn’t pull any familiar details from them, none that matched any of the people they’d helped out earlier.

But the fourth? That, was Ben.

The brand-like cross on his face was unmistakable as he slowly approached from the treeline, the rifle she’d given him earlier in hand and the white cloth still wrapped around his arm.

Her hand went to the handle of her gun, jumping to it as soon as her mistake had sunk in, but hadn’t drawn it. Not yet.

“Ben, buddy,” she began, scowling, “I don’t know what you’re fucking playing at here, but I’d really appreciate it if you could level with me and fast.“

“Weapons on the ground,” The woman to Ben’s right snapped, her own cross tattoo carved onto her face.

“Easy,” Hana replied, but didn’t take her hand away. “Thought I was responding to a call for help. But if I’d known this was fucking Joe playing some sort of long game-“

“He’s not.”

That had her eyebrows rising. “No? So, you’re telling me these aren’t Peggies?”

They looked like Peggies. Were just as much them as Ben was and appeared to be, with nothing standing out to separate them from him. Only his word, as he slowly nodded.

Hana felt a bead of a sweat slide down the side of her forehead as her eyes skipped from person to person. “Well, you want to tell me why we aren’t getting the hell out of dodge then?”

“We are, but first -“ he held out his hand, “your weapon, deputy.”

“Ben, you don’t want to do this-”

“Your weapon.”

The cocking of a gun somewhere in the brush nearby was the final push. She pulled her red revolver out only to quickly toss it down by his feet. Her hands went up after.

Keeping his eyes on her, Ben crouched down to take the gun and aim it at her. One shot, one pull of the trigger, and she’d be gone.

Every muscle tensed, damn near quaking as she kept her hands up and her eyes on him. Could she get away? Move left, right, forward, back - fuck, anywhere? Just to move. To get out of the way, to do something.

But that debate stopped the minute Ben glanced back to those at his sides. Silent even now, whatever message he'd intended to send came through on their wavelength, one of the others beginning to step back and away from them. The woman followed, her weapon never wavering for a second, but eventually the trees grew too thick to see them through, and they faded from sight completely.

Soon only Ben was left. The gun was still locked onto her, the red metal glinting in what little light caught off of it and she didn’t dare take her eyes off of it.

At least she didn’t until he lowered it.

Hands up by her head still, she kept them there as she stared, knowing she’d have better luck reading a solid marble block than him, but as the silence stretched on she let them slowly drop. Let both rest by her sides, and kept them there even as her fingers twitched.

She hadn’t been able to read him well before. Even now she was fumbling to put a name to what exactly was crossing his face at this very moment, but when he bowed his head, it finally seemed to click.

“Thank you.”

The trees parted for him soon after, swallowing him up.

---

They were gone. All had vanished without a trace back into the woods where they had come from. 

With Peggies soon to be swarming the area, they didn’t have time to weed them out or track them as they rushed to get out themselves, using the trees as cover. Hell, she’d barely touched down in the back of one of the trucks before ducking to avoid any stray bullets. 

But the entire ride back she kicked herself. Over and over as her head swam and the faces of the group came back to her. Those with fear in their eyes, desperate, and those with weapons held high and aimed on her, with Ben right at the forefront. 

So when they finally got back to town, she didn’t waste any time. Her feet hit the ground, taking her towards the Spread Eagle, her stomach churning with every step. 

It’d taken some doing, but Hana maneuvered her way through the group out front to the back, and the minute she reached one of the empty stools, she all but threw herself onto it. Normally a bar stool was nowhere near comfortable, but here she was - stone cold sober and not even wanting to leave it for a second. 

“That’s for you."

A bottle of Everclear hit the counter with a solid thud as Mary May placed it in front of her, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment at seeing it.

“Hell, watching you walk through that door in one piece’s earned you half of the entire fucking thing if you want it.”

A glass hit Hana’s hand and she cracked the bottle open in record time. “God, yes.”

“Good. Now could someone catch me up on what the fuck is going on?”

Mary May’s eyes jumped between the two, lingering first on her then Jerome, but quickly focused on her again.

Hana smacked her lips before she started filling the shot glass to the brim. “ You, uh, want the long or the short version?”

“The version that’ll explain wherever the hell you went for now, because after the disappearing act they pulled none of us thought we’d ever see you again.”

“I pissed John off again, no surprise,” Hana replied, her response half muffled by her drink. The shot burned, and after trying not to wheeze her way through it, she poured another. “Had who knows how many white vans carrying extra Peggies on the road waiting for me, and when I tried to stop one I thought had hostages in it, I uh-didn’t exactly win that fight.”

“…A set up.” Mary May swore under her breath. “He’s turned them all into a fucking setup.”

“It’s looking that way. But there was a Peggie. Ex-Peggie,” Hana said as Mary May’s eyebrows flew up. “He told me he wanted to help and-“

“And you actually believed him?”

“No. Not at first, but he-his word turned out to be solid. Seemed he wanted out, and didn’t seem interested in handing me over or hurting me all that much either.”

Hana paused. Pressed the cold glass against her neck, then the side of her head. Her eyes slipped closed as she focused in on it, and wished she’d had a bathtub full of ice instead.

“…So when he said that there were a hell of a lot of other Peggies wanting the same thing, we got them out. Went straight for Silver Lake’s Trailer Park, and the Pastor did the rest.”

“Fuck.” Mary May sighed and looked at Jerome. “Ex-Peggies?”

He nodded. “It hasn’t been the first time, and it won’t be the last. They’re scared. They were at the beginning, and many still are now. Not everyone joined Eden’s Gate willingly, and some are starting to find their own ways to leave.”

“Scared? Is that right?” Mary replied, her voice rising, “But they still made their own damn choice instead of pushing back. Helped them to bury the fucking knife in our backs and hand the county over to them!”

“I understand, but-“

“But nothing! Look, we’re having enough trouble keeping our own people safe without having to worry about them being grabbed out of their homes, and off of the goddamn roads. John’s got more vehicles out than ever, each of those goddamn vans working to capture us - and nevermind he damn near got her!”

Hana nearly choked on her drink when Mary May jabbed a finger at her.

“He had her in that van on the way to his fucking bunker, and where would we be then, huh? Where would she be?”

Jerome let his eyes slide closed. “I remember being led out into the street. From the church, down those steps, only to be placed on my knees as one of the People of Eden’s Gate held out Joseph’s Word. Spoke it to me.”

“Jerome-“

“And I remember clearly when further down the street in our home, she came. Sweeping through them with holy fire.” Slowly turning towards Hana, the gaze he leveled at her left her frozen in place. “I did not know her. Neither of us did, but once we saw her, we knew what she could be. And what she could be capable of. Without her, we would be worse off by far, and they know this. Both John and Joseph. If any of those people were still loyal to the Project, why would they willingly bring her back?”

Mary May frowned. “They clearly got something out of it.”

“Their own people, yes, but where is the deputy now?”

Glancing between the two, Hana didn’t move a muscle. Just watched, waiting.

“Right here. Here with us,” Jerome said, turning back towards Mary May. “There are defectors within Eden’s Gate. They did this, they brought her back.”

The look in Mary May’s eyes hardened. Held fast for a good long minute as she crossed her arms. “And?”

“And all they wanted in return was a way out. No more, no less."

Her lips settled into a thin line, pressed hard into each other as she kept her eyes on him. Holding the other's stare, they held their ground - so still, that after a few minutes, Hana decided that nothing short of the roof falling in would break the stalemate. But after what seemed like an eternity, Mary May sighed, the breath coming out in a huff as she reached for the stack of glasses sitting next to her. “…Fine. I’ll give you that, but I ain’t giving them anything else.”

That’s when Mary May finally looked her way again, and her expression softened as she reached out to rest a hand on Hana’s arm. “And as for you, you take as long as you need back here, got it?”

She nodded, and before she could get a single word out, Mary May was gone.

Trading a look with Jerome, Hana held the bottle out to him, and he took it. Filling up another glass, he topped hers off with a heavy pour, and she mentally added that to tally of things he’d never stop surprising her with.

“She’s right,” he eventually said, halfway through his drink. “You should rest while you can.”

This time the shot didn’t burn as much, but the cough she couldn’t quite muffle. “Pastor, I mean this with kindness, but fuck that.”

“Or slow down. Try it. We need you, but you’re human. Flesh and blood like the rest of us, and difficult as it is to believe, we all need a moment to rest. Take it.”

Hana opened her mouth again, but paused. Let it close for a beat before putting what was left of the Everclear into it. “One night. One.”

At the sight of her raised index finger, Jerome chuckled. “If that’s all you can spare, it’ll have to do.”

The two made their way out towards the front of the bar after that, mingling with the others. The mood now was nowhere near the kind she remembered on the night they brought the tankers in - tension and worry hanging in the air as she traded words with more than a few getting ready to head onto the next round of watch.

Someone passed her a beer, her thanks fading into the background noise of the bar, and she rubbed at the side of her face, and kept walking. Moved in a straight line towards the doors as the other voices faded out and she pushed forward.

The cold air hit her skin the minute she shoved the door open. She’d been warm before, her body temperature peaking due to the shots in the back, but no longer had it to cling to out here. Breathing in deep, her skin prickled as she held it, goosebumps rising fast before letting it all out in a long exhale.

That's when it kicked in again. The urge to move, her feet taking her along that path just past the Eagle down as far as she could reach. Past the house, down towards the fields, maybe. Out and far, far as her feet could carry her.

- At least that was her original plan, until she was swept off the ground, sputtering as the bottle flew out of her hand and the world whirled around her.

“Whoo-hoo, Deputy!” Hurk laughed, giving her a bear hug tight enough to cut her air supply off. “We were hoping and wishing and betting you’d be fine, and you’re looking finer than fine! You’re-“

“Suffocating! “ Hana patted his back, wheezing, “Hurk can you just - can you loosen that up hon?”

The spinning stopped even as her vision kept on dancing, and Sharky popped up in the edges of it, running up close to them as she felt Hurk move - whether to give him a fist bump or a high-five she couldn’t tell.

“Dude, you’ve got a choke hold on her that’d put any amigo out after a round! You might wanna loosen that up.”

“Oh! Oh shit, lemme fix that!“

Hurk set her down and the vice lifted, air whooshing back into her lungs quick enough to leave her a little lightheaded even without the alcohol’s help. She nearly stumbled over her own two feet, but once she was righted with Hurk’s help, he settled for giving her arm a friendly bump instead.

“It’s just real good to see you after losing you like that the other day, and I didn’t mean to choke you like that, Dep. Especially since it looks someone might’ve got in a head start on that too.”

“What do you…?” Aiming a strange look at him, his words didn’t click at first, but the memory of hands clamping down on her windpipe hit like a truck right after. “Jesus, uh- okay, so maybe someone tried to put the squeeze in on me earlier, but it’s - it was nothing.”

“Yeah, no, you see that right there?” Hurk tapped Sharky’s shoulder as both peered over at her. “That is a solid two-hander.”

Hana shook her head at him before turning towards Sharky, but he wasn’t grinning at her anymore. No, he was looking at her closely now, eyes tracing along that point below her chin, and her throat grew tight.

“Damn, H.” He whistled under his breath. “That’s no fucking joke.”

He was leaning solidly into her space now. Leaning far enough in for her to have to rock back to keep any distance between them, with the inches dwindling by the second.

“Shark, buddy. Seriously, I’m fine-ow!”

Something touched her neck, falling between a poke and a jab, and at her yelp, Sharky jumped back and held his hands up. “Aw geez, Dep! Sorry! Sorry, I was just-I mean it looked real sore, and I might’ve been gauging it to see if it needs patching or something, and-uh, wanted to see if it-“

“If it hurts?” she asked, holding a hand to the dully throbbing spot. “Well good news, hon! It hurts!”

She gave him a solid poke in the side. “Ow!”

Watching him rub furiously at the spot, she waited, then poked him again, and again. On the next Sharky caught her hands, his grip pretty dawn tight even as he kept on trying to dodge her.

“Ow, Dep! I get it! I get it!”

When she slowed down, he gave a quick huff of relief, and Hana shook her head. Lost all and any track of where she’d mentally been not even five minutes ago, and had to take a second to get it all back.

But when it sank its claws back in, she knew it. Felt that weight bring her right back down to earth, and lightly tugged her hands away from Sharky.

“Anyway, don’t think I’m not happy to see you guys. That’s not even close to true, not one bit, but -“ She paused, taking a moment to fish the discarded beer bottle off of the ground, studying the label. “I think I’m fucking toast, man. I might have to call a raincheck on any and all parties and afterparties going on right now.”

“Well shit, I uh...“ Hana glanced up as Sharky faltered, disappointment setting in, but a smile slipped in soon after. “Sure thing, shorty. You wanna sit down, kick back and take five or twenty, we got you. ‘Sides, we always pregame shit like this, so if you wanna get in on it later we’ll get you caught up.”

She’d started chewing on her lip again, and let it go. “Promise?”

“Hell yeah! Won’t even touch the high-proof, top shelf-type shit ‘til then.” He moved to slap her shoulder, but jerked to a stop and slapped Hurk’s instead. “Right, Hurky?”

“Ow!” Rubbing at the spot, Hurk glowered at him for a beat, but recovered fast. “That’s a tall order, cuz, but if we wanna wait, I guess we can work on a few party favors for the Peggies instead. Always wanted to try rigging one of those edible arrangements-type baskets, but we’d have to crash my mama’s house first for a decent melon baller.“

“Dude, just stuff ‘em full of cherry bombs, what do you wanna waste any of that for?”

“’Cause a fruit basket’s gotta have some fruit, and you can’t get any of those nice little round shapes without one,” Hurk replied, scratching his chin as he thought it over. “I know she’s got one in near-mint condition over yonder, just gotta get up there and see if we can score a couple of cantaloupes on the way too-“

Listening to the two, watching as Sharky stepped up to mime the arc of something being launched, Hana paused for a moment - watching his hands move as he mimed the arc of something being launched - before slipping away.

Sneaking off after being reunited again so soon was borderline shitty at best, but if she stuck around now she’d never be able to talk herself into leaving. The longer she stuck around the worse her company was bound to get, and as her thoughts started to fuzz around the edges, nothing would be better for it and the others than to just get somewhere as wide open and quiet as possible.

She’d been moving down the way and out before, but one glance upward towards the stars made up her mind for her.

Taking the path behind the autoshop, she found the one ladder sure enough, and took to climbing. Hoisting herself up one rung at a time, she just wanted to see the sky. To get a moment to look up past the clouds and see -

She froze at the top. Directly across from her posted right by the heavy machine gun was a familiar face. One she’d missed, but had seen flashes of throughout the day.

Grace’s eyes widened a hair as she focused on her, rifle slung on her back, and Hana immediately backpedaled. “Shit. Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t I’d - let me get out of your way.”

“You bring two?”

Hana stopped with one foot already on the lower rung of the ladder, and swayed as she nearly dropped the lone beer clutched in her grip.

Tilting her head, Grace gestured towards the spot next to her. "Could also use more eyes up here."

"...You sure? Might just end up picking up my slack more than anything else."

"Better up here than down there."

Hana turned towards the houses again. Towards the path she'd wandered out once before, bottle in hand and memories fuzzy, and shrugged off the feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Think you’re right about that. Just one problem, though.” She held up the beer up before extending it towards Grace. “Only came up here with one, and I owe you at least two for what you did earlier.”

It was nearly pitch black out, but she still caught it. The small smile that crossed Grace’s face and didn’t leave it. “It’ll do.”

---

The next day they all set out to regroup - to get back at some of the vans while also gathering supplies, and the first thing Hana does once she’s able to drag herself down from her perch with Grace is get an idea of where they’d been striking.

Reports mentioned Peggies picking off their people both to the east and the south - the van over by Sunrise a lucky shot in the dark for John’s people - while others had struck on the outskirts of the valley. Fall’s End was still the largest fortified free zone for their people to be in, but the roads weren’t theirs. Not yet.

So she had to work fast, at least now before they had a chance to throw them off further. She was still a target. Had lucked out somehow even after getting fucked over before, but didn’t even think about laying low now. It was her fault it’d gotten worse to begin with, and her mess to deal with.

With the guys on interference, gift baskets and all, it took some of the heat off, and as soon as a new report came in - another white van proving to be an ambush - she was back on the road rushing off to intercept it.

Burning rubber, she ran them down, making sure no one hit them alone, and held her breath with every screech of the tires and every thrown open door on the back of their vans. Every stop was a roll of the dice, and after a day of playing touch and go, she and a few others jerry-rigged their own van, piling in to tail the Peggies back to one of their drop off points.

The path wound north through the hills, taking them in a direction that this time she was able to follow. Peering over the driver’s seat from her spot in the back, she watched the construction yard come into view. Paths almost haphazardly circled the place, running rings around the building square in its center, as the dirt paths merged into the road leading onto the grounds.

An ATV roared past them, nearly clipping them on the way in, and judging from the trucks parked outside it was active as ever. Whatever they had been moving out before - supplies, people, weapons - they’d have a shot at now, and a quick radio call on their end helped make it clear that they wouldn’t have to deal with it alone for long.

Ducking back down, Hana passed some extra shells to Kat, and traded a quick look with Grace as she fiddled with her gear to get her rifle into place.

Grace had already been looking her way, skeptical for damn good reason, and seconds away from telling her to stay put. It would’ve been a rough order to follow if she had, one Hana would’ve been doomed to break, but Grace remained silent as the wheels slowed to a stop, her mouth set in a hard line.

There wasn’t much she could say in this moment to ease the pressure, but as the countdown in her head wound down to zero, Hana flashed her a wink. Then jumped to join the others in busting out of the back of the van.

Chaos erupted, the Peggies by the doors falling back only to go for their weapons as their group got into position. Hana threw herself behind a nearby pile of logs, and stayed down as a spray of bullets sent pieces of wood and bark flying. She’d lost sight of the others fast. Kat she’d figured would want to get in close and personal, her shotgun doing most of the talking for her, while Grace was nothing short of a ghost.

One blink and Hana lost sight of the red heart on the back of Grace’s uniform, but not even a moment later she spotted that light again. Faint and familiar, Grace's laser sight glinted briefly on the back of one of the Peggies before they fell, her shots almost too quick for Hana to keep up with.

More wood pelted her as she adjusted her position, and as a Peggie came up from the other side, she fired. Tried to aim best as she could, while holding her position. 

"Five minutes out, we’ll be there in five!” the walkie by her side crackled, as words come through.

Five. Fuck.

“Deputy!”

Hana whipped her head towards the voice, trying to pick out the person speaking to her, and caught the Resistance member waving at her - Bryan, or was it Ryan? They hadn’t had a lot of time for intros in the van, but his ‘drop the bass’ shirt was tough to forget.

“We’ll cover you!” His cover wasn’t much better than hers, and he pointed towards the only main building in the yard. 

He started firing, and the rain of wood chips above her slowed, then stopped. Chancing a quick peek out between what was left of the pile, Hana broke into a run before she could second-guess it.

And though there wasn’t much point, she started counting again. Ran straight through those numbers and across the dirt road as one became five, became fifteen, became thirty. Eventually the numbers blended right into the noise erupting around them, and as she reached the building in the center of the yard, she fought to get to that room tucked away inside of it. That small place that she’d make damn sure no one else was ever trapped in again.

Throwing herself into cover just past the entrance, Hana stopped to catch her breath as movement close by drew her attention to the floor. Right to the grenade rolling to a stop right by her feet.

Every hair on her shot straight up. Scrambling to move, she damn near slipped and fell as she fought to get away, and dove right back out. 

Profanity zipping through her head on overdrive, it all skidded to a halt as the force hit. Flowing out, it was a wave of heat that set her nerves alight as she collided with a nearby crate. Vision swimming, she blinked and coughed, praying it’d settle only to get dragged up.

An arm looped around her neck, and she clamped down on it with her fingers as the pressure ramped up to cut off her air flow. She slammed herself back against the person holding her. Once, then twice, as a snarl slipped out, and the grip loosened, giving her just enough leeway to get away and - crack.

That close she couldn’t help but flinch as the shot took the Peggie down; her ears ringing slightly as she righted herself. But when she flashed a thumbs up in appreciation, across the way from her wasn’t Grace. Hell, it wasn’t even one of their people. It was -

A Peggie. The woman lowered her gun, and when Hana didn’t budge, she broke into a run, clearing out fast. Another Peggie stayed with her, keeping close behind as they disappeared into the trees.

Was that - were there more of them? One of Ben's?

A solid slap to her arm shook her out of it a moment later, one of the other Resistance members pulling her back to the present, but the questions lingered. Stayed in the back of her mind even as they cleared out the last few holdouts and finally broke into that back room. 

Three people were huddled together on the other side of the door, all blindfolded, but unharmed. Relieved, she threw out as quick a greeting as she could manage before removing them and cut the zipties around their wrists after. 

On Grace’s final all-clear of the area, they didn’t linger. They got the hell out fast, leaving Kat and the others to break down the rest of the yard and the gear the Peggies had been stashing there. But back at Fall’s End, she was back at square one again. Idle enough for the itch to move to set in, and for her mind to wander back to the questions running through it on repeat.

How many defectors were there? How many had there always been?

They had no real clue at this point, just word on the few that Jerome knew had reached out for help. But sometimes that was all you needed. A few people on the same wavelength, with a serious desire to raise hell.

And judging from what she’d seen over the last day or so, the few were starting to look like so much more than that.

The cigarette burned down between her lips as Hana stared down the street, and felt her heel start tapping against the floor. Posted at one of the rooftop watch stations, her eyes followed the few people that passed on by, and by the time she’d picked up on the voice coming through her radio, she’d graduated to the kind of tapping that would’ve had her mother placing a hand on her knee to still it.

“-ty? Deputy, are you there?”

Jerome. Her leg came to a quick stop. “Hey, Pastor. Everything okay?”

“Where are you right now, still nearby?”

“Yeah, I’m practically a stone’s throw from you, if you’re wondering. Why?”

“Do you remember what we spoke about earlier? About you, and those that brought you back?

She took one last draw on the cigarette, her grip tight on it. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Come on down to the church. They want to meet.”

[chubbysciencenerd]

Runaway Pet Fem!reader x JacobSeed

dubcon, pet dynamic, dirty talk (slight), orgasm denial, slight Stockholm syndrome towards the end idfk and if you don't like it then simply don't read it.

(NOT PROOF READ BEEN REAL BUSY LATELY BUT I HAVE SO MANY INEADS FOR STORIES IN A GOOGLE DOC DW)

You have remained captured by Jacob at his compound for just under 3 weeks now, he would bring over your radio and hold it just out of reach forcing you to listen to your friends asking you for help thinking that you're hiding as if this was all too much, you wanted them to know that wasn't the case but you couldn't. Until today, you woke up in the stupid cage he kept you in, it was inside the veterans center and inside he office at the foot of his bed. You felt like he was keeping you like a damn pet. You look and right at the front of your cage you see your radio and a piece of paper, you quickly grab both, the paper had writing on it. Don’t say anything I wouldn’t like pup, I'm listening. You immediately talk into the radio after reading the note. “Hello?..” Sharky answers almost immediately, “Deputy! Where the hell have you been?” You tear up a little as you smile knowing he was okay, “I'm being kept at Jacobs compound, Is everyone alright?” Sharky barley let you finish speaking before he responded. “Jacob Seed? Everyones okay, I can get everyone together! We can come get you, we need you bro.. Johns going… A little Crazy.” You chuckle softly, as if John wasn't crazy already. “No no, no one is to even try to come get me. It wont end well. Sharky Listen carefully, you need to tell Hudson that she's in charge now and I need you and everyone else to help her and treat her with the same respect you treat me with okay? Just until I’m out of here.” It was quiet for a minute before Sharky finally responded. “Broskie are you sure?” You smile softly responding with a simple “Positive” Jacob enters the room and gives you a soft yet wicked smirk. You look up at him nervously as you speak into the radio one last time, “Sharky, I have to go. Tell everyone to stay strong.” 

Jacob squats in front of the cage and holds his hand out, “Times up pup.” You hand him the radio hesitantly, he grabs your wrist tightly grabbing the radio with his free hand. “You smell like shit pup, I'm going to let you take a shower but there's no saying what I'll do if you disobey me. Got it?” You nod shakily, fuck.. This was probably your only chance for a while. He lets go and you snatch your hand back into the cage as he starts to unlock your cage which was more like a damn kennel for a dog, he steps to the side as you nervously crawl out standing with weak legs. He had a good feeling you couldn't run even if you wanted to. He walks over to the fridge in his office and grabs an apple and a water bottle from it and hands it to you. “For strength.” You7 take them hastily, taking a bite of the apple first and opening the water bottle drinking only about half of it, you were too smart to chug it all away. It was so nice to not eat and drink out of a bowl like a damn judge. You continue to eat the apple as he goes to a box he had brought in a couple of days ago. He pulled out 2 little travel size bottles of soap, body wash and shampoo. He sets them on the dresser before pulling out fresh clothes from the box for the deputy. After grabbing the bottles and setting them on the clothes he walks over setting the pile on the top of your cage as he lets you finish your apple. Soon enough you were practically eating the core before he rips it from you, “Did you know.. Apple seeds contain cyanide?” He chuckles before throwing away the core. “It would take around 200 apple seeds to kill someone. Just a little fact” You finish the water before grabbing the f/resh clothes and bottles. He grabs your arm roughly and starts walking you out of his office and to the nearest bathroom with a shower. “No fooling around. Let me know when you're in the shower.”

He closes the door staying inside the bathroom with you, the man was decent enough to turn around so you can strip and enter the shower. You are quick to remove your clothes and get in the shower, You mutter out a soft “Im in..” before turning on the water. Jacob turned to look at the shower to make sure you didn't try anything stupid. “Why do you have to be in here?” You ask awkwardly before putting some of the body wash on a rag that was in there. As you start to wash yourself you felt, Free.. Even though you weren't, not yet. Instead of answering he hums softly. You continue your shower and almost timed perfectly as you are rinsing the shampoo out of your hair you hear yelling and gunfire outside. “Don’t leave this room.” He growls rushing out of the bathroom grabbing his guns on the way out to see what the hell was going on. You turn off the water and quickly get dressed and start to slip your way through the veterans center and out the back without being noticed. Or so you think. You find some stuff stacked near the wall and use it to hop the fence in the back. And as soon as you hit the ground you start running like your life depends on it, once you look back you see Jacob running after you. Fuck! How did he see me? Im so fucking dead.. When you glance back a second time you see he's gaining on you, right as you start to look back there was a loose tree root that you trip over. As you try to get up you feel his weight crushing you back into the forest floor. His knee digs into your back and you hear his heavy panting as he leans over to whisper in your ear. “Pets who run away deserve a punishment.” 

As he finished speaking he moved his knees to be on either side of you, pinning you down before grabbing the waist of the shorts he gave you and ripping them down to your knees followed by the cheap panties. His rough and calloused hands grab your hips harshly before pulling your ass up and in the air. Soft pleas and whimpers escape your lips, “I wont do it again, Please!” You try everything but he doesn't give up. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you hear him fumbling with his belt and jeans and before you know it his thick head is pushing against your entrance. “If you ever think about running away again, remember this day.”  He whispers in your ear before harshly biting your neck drawing blood as he rams his full length into you harshly pulling out and quickly thrusting back in, absolutely rutting against you like a starved animal. He pounds away at your aching core as he pulls his teeth from your neck and licking along the bite soothing it before biting almost harder on the other side of you neck, you yelp in a mixture of pain and pleasure. You felt like he was splitting you open with every thrust of his cock, it was so thick and lengthy you wanted to hate it but.. You couldn't. He grabs your hair and harshly yanks your head back before growling in your ear, “I want to hear you pup.” A mixture of whimpers and moans start spilling out of your lips and he starts going back to kissing and sucking on your neck now only leaving small almost teaseful bites. He sees your hand snake between your legs and he quickly stops after one specifically hard thrust. He grabs both of your arms roughly and brings them behind your back holding them there. “Bad pets don't get to cum”

He starts rutting into you again groans escaping his own lips as he feels his limit coming, “Im gonna fucking breed you, marking you isnt enough.” He chuckles with a low voice before leaning over you and whispering in your ear again. “I'm gonna fill you up to the damn brim so you can have my pups.” You feel him smile against your neck before biting it harshly again causing blood to trickle down your neck as his hips stutter before coming to a stop, you felt so full and almost like he truly owned you now. He draws out of you painfully slowly and you gasp as  the emptiness, you felt like a part of you was missing. You look back and see Jacob tucking himself back into his pants before helping you up carefully holding you against him so he can pull your panties and shorts back up, He didn't need his soldiers to see what was his. You look at him with lost eyes trying to understand why you felt like this with one of the goddamn seed brothers. He chuckles at the priceless look on your face before picking you up bridal style. “You okay pup? I know that was rough but like I said, bad pets need to be punished.” You look up at him with a quivering lip as you rest your head against his shoulder, just because you were bad didnt mean he was the worst fucking guy he was still going to provide a little aftercare, that shit is important especially if he wants you to trust him. He starts to walk with you back to the veterans center as he softly hums Only You. Jacob had kept you in his office for a reason, He wanted you, and now.. He claimed you. You avoid the gazes of soldiers as he carries you back inside. 

He sets you on his bed before leaving, he comes back with a wet and warm washcloth, “Take off your shorts..” You look at him and weakly take off your shorts, he starts on your inner thighs wiping off whatever mess there was before sliding your panties to the side and cleaning up the main mess, his seed was leaking out of you and it made his cock stiffen in his pants causing him to growl under his breath. You weren't in the right state for anything more at the moment, He continues to clean you up before placing your panties back, for such a rough man right now his touch was soft, gentle and slow.. He was being weirdly comforting.. You wanted to hate it but still, you couldn't help but absolutely love it. It was the man you didn't love but he was destined to change that. “What do you need right now pup?” He asks, his voice weirdly soft. You can get yourself to speak still honestly in a bit of shock, He sighs laying on his bed next to you. Before your mind can even react your body starts to cuddle with him, hitching your leg up over his and your arm laying over his stomach as you rest your head softly on his chest. He softly strokes your hair crying to comfort you after that intense scene. He wanted you to love him, not hate him. With you being exhausted the last things you hear before drifting off to sleep are, “I'll make you love me pup.”

Im begging for criticism on my writing, please let me know what would make it better for you guys. Love you all and thanks so much for reading!

[spookyspecterino]

MASTERLIST

❤️ NSFW/18+ | 🧡 Mature Teens | 💛 SFW | My AO3

A Quiet Place: Day One

Eric x Reader

💛 "Focus on Me" | GN!Reader

You and Eric share a first kiss

💛 "Try To Live, For Me" | GN!Reader

You meet Eric on the boat. Getting attached is dangerous.

💛 "Together at the End of the World" | GN!Reader

You're stuck in the subway with Eric the day the asteroids hit.

Starfield - Sam Coe/Delgado

Starfield Masterlist

Bullet Train - Tangerine

Bullet Train Masterlist

Far Cry 5

Jacob Seed

❤️ "Out Hunting" | F! Reader

Jacob goes hunting, only to be followed by the deputy. Things don't go as planned, which might not be such a bad thing.

John Seed

🧡 "Unconditional" | GN! Reader

John is caught off-guard by a surprise visit from the deputy and they confess something he wasn't expecting. Will this be a turning point for him?

Stranger Things - Eddie Munson

❤️ "Distracted" | F! Reader

While in class, you and Eddie get to talking. Which quickly becomes something else when certain things come out...

❤️ "I'm With You Till the End" | F! Reader

When Eddie's trailer shows up on the morning news and cops come to your door asking if you've seen him, you panic and go looking for him.

Marvel - Stephen Strange

🧡 "Annoying" | GN! Reader

During an argument you let slip that you may have once had a crush on Stephen Strange, but Stephen doesn't reject you and some interesting things are revealed...

💛 "Is it Worth That?" | GN! Reader

When Stephen Strange tracks you down for practicing forbidden magic you are forced to make a crucial choice.

Encanto - Bruno Madrigal

💛 HeadCanons & A Few Short Blurbs | F! Reader

HeadCanons about Bruno's feelings for you. Blurbs are short stories about Bruno asking you out on a date and Bruno and you getting ready for Julieta's wedding.

💛 "Think About This, Before It's Too Late" | F! Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

When you've loved Bruno from afar for so long and he's never reciprocated, you think it's finally time to move on. But moving on isn't working and you're faced with a choice.

💛 "I'd Like a Vision, Please" | F! Reader

You go to Bruno for a vision, but what he shows you isn't what you expected. Trying to question The Seer only gets you more tangled up.

[strawberryscorner]

Idk if you do requests or not but I love scrolling through your stuff.

I was wondering how would the seed brothers react if the deputy (M or F idc) had memory issues. To the point they carry a book around to write not important stuff.

(yes I was thinking about ranboo while having this idea) you can decide the severity of the memory issues. It could be mild where the deputy only forgets small stuff or bad where they forget everything. Like where do I live bad.

Hey, sorry it took a while to do this, but I hope you like it!

Joseph:

This man will pray for you and will have all these solutions. He will also be glued to your side.

You're looking in your notebook to figure out where you were going and why. He'll smile softly watching you, not wanting to tell you and stop you from figuring it out on your own. Sadly, you didn't put directions, "go to the church" wasn't as helpful to current you as past you thought it'd be. You sigh and bite your lip, looking up when you feel Joseph's arm sliding across your shoulders.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll get us there, and soon, you'll have your memory, we just have to complete two more trials." He says reassuringly.

"What trails?" You eye him suspiciously, the last one took more energy out of you than you would have liked.

"Nothing too hard, we'll know the details soon."

John:

John will probably go to his brother for help, he'll pray often and also take on more baptisms to perform.

"Just stay here, princess, I won't be long," he says, putting you on the sofa.

"Why can't I come with you?" You're confused, you usually go everywhere with him...Or...At least you think you do.

"I'll just be taking two peoples confessions then I'll be right back," he kisses your forehead and hands you a notebook. "Here, all the important and people if you need to go somewhere or need help."

You nod your head, you somewhat remember confessions and that he takes them. They don't take too long but if you're bored, you can go outside and sit by his plane and wait for him, then he'll take you on a ride and show you the county.

Jacob:

Unlike his brothers, he doesn't pray. He gets you to work, training will help your mind.

"Come on, you're faster than that," he smiles, running backwards as you try to keep up.

"We've been running forever, Jacob! I'm tired!"

"We're almost there."

"Where are we going?" You get no reply, just a cheeky grin and him turning to run facing the right way.

You keep running, though you're not sure how long you've ran for. When he finally stops, you're by a lake, the water is beautiful and there's fish swimming. He looks at you with a huge smile on your face.

"Remember anything, pup?"

You squint your eyes as you look around, partly from the sun and partly to force your brain to work.

"Kiss, we kissed for the first time," you stand on your tiptoes to look over his shoulder. "Right there!"

He laughs and picks you up, "Yeah, we did!"

You laugh, stopping just when your lips meet.

[laloverboyy]

F/O & self insert list & tags. // bold = current main(s). — italics = uncomfortable/selective abt sharing. — anniversaries now included! :]

romantics.

#🦈🔥 — sharky boshaw. // far cry 5. // 02 . 01 . 24 #🌿🕊 — faith seed. // far cry 5. // 02 . 01 . 24 #🩹🫀 — deputy staci pratt. // far cry 5. // 09 . 01 . 24

#🐅🏝 — vaas montenegro. // far cry 3. // 23 . 03 . 24

#🦂🌹 — valeria garza. // call of duty: modern warfare ii. #👑🖤 — könig. // call of duty. // 19 . 09 . 2024

#💜🎲 — eduardo "lalo" salamanca. // better call saul. // 20 . 04 . 2024 #🏜🪓 — marco & leonel salamanca. // breaking bad.

#🐃🏔 — jack twist. // brokeback mountain. // 30 . 08 . 2024

#🐑⛪️ — aziraphale. // good omens. // 05 . 09 . 2024 #🐍🍒 — crowley. // good omens. // 05 . 09 . 2024

#🥩🍷 — hannibal lecter. // nbc hannibal. // 21 . 06 . 2024

#🦴🗡 — dagur the deranged. // how to train your dragon. // 17 . 09 . 2024

queerplatonics.

#💙✒️ — john seed. // far cry 5. // 21 . 06 . 24

#🕰🐕 — will graham. // nbc hannibal. // 30 . 06 . 24

#🖥🧬 — allied mastercomputer. // i have no mouth and i must scream. // 17 . 05 . 2024

platonics.

#🐗💥 — hurk drubman jr. // far cry 5. #🏹🕷 — jess black. // far cry 5

#📌💸 — ignacio "nacho" varga. // better call saul.

#🍇☔️ — kieran. // pokémon scarlet/violet.

familials.

#🍎🛖 — ethan seed. // far cry new dawn. // son.

#⚜️♦️ — diego castillo. // far cry 6. // son.

#🏠🩺 — gregory house. // house m.d. // father figure. #🩻❤️‍🩹 — james wilson. // house m.d. // father figure by proxy.

crushes/potential f/os.

#×× — leshy. // cult of the lamb.

#×× — dark enchantress cookie. // cookie run kingdom. #×× — tarte tatin cookie. // cookie run kingdom.

#×× — alvie. // house m.d.

#×× — alexander lemtov. // eurovision song contest: the story of fire saga. // no, i do NOT support eurovision.

#×× — wyll. // baldur's gate 3.

self inserts.

#🏡🧸 — benjamin house. // house m.d.

#🐾🪖 — coyote. // call of duty.

#🐏🧶 — deputy cain "rook" bishop. // far cry 5.

#💽⚡️ — harold pylon. // better call saul & breaking bad.

#🌾🍵 — hickory. // baldur's gate 3.

#🛼🪼 — poprocks. // pokémon scarlet/violet.

#🦑📜 — rayner bell. // how to train your dragon.

#🪶🍊 — wolfram wren. // nbc hannibal.

[pikapeppa]

Writer's game: first sentences!

Thanks to dearest @kittynomsdeplume for the tag! Tagging forward to @iamcayc @ranaspkillnarieth @johaerys-writes @elveny @fogsblue @cthu-boo @mwasaw @little-lightning-lavellan @crackinglamb and anyone else who sees this and would like to play -- feel free to tag back so I can peek at your writing! 👀

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven't written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.

I always enjoy doing this one -- it's fun to see if your first lines follow any specific patterns!

************

Becoming Whole (Aloy x Kotallo, Horizon: Forbidden West)

He woke to the sound of howling.

2. Even The Hardiest Desert Blooms Have To Get Wet Sometimes (Aloy x Drakka, Horizon: Forbidden West)

It was close to midday when Drakka spotted the signature blue headlight of a tamed Charger on the approach.

3. Finding Something In Common (Aloy x Drakka x Nil, Horizon: Forbidden West)

Nil chuckled. “You’re ruthless when you’re riled up, aren’t you?” he crooned.

4. Inevitable (Lucy x David, Cyberpunk: Edgerunners)

Never trust a soul in Night City.

5. The Wisdom In A Bowl Of Pudding (Tamaris Lavellan x Felassan, Dragon Age)

“This way, hah’ren,” Felassan said. He glanced over his shoulder, but Solas wasn’t there.

6. I Wanna Do Bad Things With You (Deputy x John Seed, Far Cry 5)

If there was anything John Seed knew, it was that God had a plan.

7. What You'd Do For The One You Love (Geralt of Rivia x f!Reader, The Witcher 3)

Later, you’ll think back to that moment.

8. Pleasurable Pastimes (Nare Lavellan x Solas, Dragon Age)

Nare is standing. She is standing, supporting her own weight on her own two feet, but with Solas kissing her, she forgets that the ground is even there.

9. Sensate (Fuu x Jin x Mugen, Samurai Champloo)

He watches her as they travel, and it is exhausting.

10. Just Hold On, We're Going Home (Fuu x Jin x Mugen, Samurai Champloo)

Fuu’s life was pretty good these days.

And as a bonus, from my new WIP that's not yet posted:

Coming In Like A Western Wind (Aloy x Avad, Horizon: Forbidden West)

Avad had always been a dreamer.

Hope you guys enjoyed! Excited to see what everyone else's first lines are like! 🥰

[darkdoverpseeker]

{ 🎃🖤🔪 } — 23F looking for 20+ literate partners to write M/F or F/F from a variety of different fandoms !

While I do have mainly canon characters listed, I am open to writing with OCs, doubling, and multi-threading. Implied ships include the characters listed, but I’m more than open to hearing alternate muses and pairings that you have ideas for! I will warn that I may need pings and reminders if I need extra time due to life stressors + adulthood, but I am actively trying to improve on communication and appreciate your patience. ♥️ If I accidentally vanished on you last time, please feel free to reach out again!!!

. . . Jacob Seed OR John Seed OR Mary May Fairgrave OR f!Deputy OC • Far Cry 5

. . . Kylo Ren/Ben Solo OR Rey • Star Wars

. . . Pelle OR Dani Ardor • Midsommar

. . . Danny Johnson/Ghostface OR Amanda Young OR Kate Denson OR {misc.} • Dead By Daylight

. . . Michael Myers OR Corey Cunningham OR Laurie Strode OR Allyson Nelson • Halloween (‘78/‘18 or Rob Zombie)

. . . Otis Driftwood OR Baby Firefly • House of 1,000 Corpses (not a ship!)

If any muses catch your eye (or if you’d like to see if I’d be interested in a horror fandom or original horror plot you’ve been craving!) please like this post or DM my sideblog @enfika directly.

.

[findroleplay]

{ 🎃🖤🔪 } — 23F looking for 20+ literate partners to write M/F or F/F from a variety of different fandoms !

While I do have mainly canon characters listed, I am open to writing with OCs, doubling, and multi-threading. Implied ships include the characters listed, but I’m more than open to hearing alternate muses and pairings that you have ideas for! I will warn that I may need pings and reminders if I need extra time due to life stressors + adulthood, but I am actively trying to improve on communication and appreciate your patience. ♥️ If I accidentally vanished on you last time, please feel free to reach out again!!!

. . . Jacob Seed OR John Seed OR Mary May Fairgrave OR f!Deputy OC • Far Cry 5

. . . Kylo Ren/Ben Solo OR Rey • Star Wars

. . . Pelle OR Dani Ardor • Midsommar

. . . Danny Johnson/Ghostface OR Amanda Young OR Kate Denson OR {misc.} • Dead By Daylight

. . . Michael Myers OR Corey Cunningham OR Laurie Strode OR Allyson Nelson • Halloween (‘78/‘18 or Rob Zombie)

. . . Otis Driftwood OR Baby Firefly • House of 1,000 Corpses (not a ship!)

If any muses catch your eye (or if you’d like to see if I’d be interested in a horror fandom or original horror plot you’ve been craving!) please like this post or DM my sideblog @enfika directly.

_

[seedofjoseph]

a garden locked up is my sister, my bride

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Relationship(s): Polyseed feat. F!Deputy

Rating: M (mature)

Words: 3700

Warning(s): displays of non-platonic affection between non-blood relatives; polyamory; traditional gender roles; more corn than a field; more crack than a backroad

Author's Note: The following fanfic is loosely tied to both canon and my own headcanon in the form of an E-rated one (link). And it has even looser ties to Valentine's Day.

Eden's Gate does not recognize any saints save for every Project member who ever took a bullet for the Father. There are as many martyrs as there are guns in Hope County, and some of them might've even been Valentines.

On the last day of summer and what could've easily been the first day of the Collapse, the Seeds reunited on their Ranch in Holland Valley for a feast. They were to eat, drink and enjoy life in the name of their dead Family members. And to celebrate the newest addition: you.

"I see yooou, girls," John threatened you with a sweet song, but not as sweet as the chocolate hearts you and Faith smuggled from his stockpile. "Don't be greedy," he followed your bare footfalls out of the kitchen, and your giggles all the up the stairs. "You're supposed to share."

"We are," you laughed, leading Faith into the master bedroom. "One box for the both of us," you came around the king-sized bed and cut the rug on your way onto the balcony.

"Oh, no," Faith feigned concern at being cornered. She even shielded herself behind you, sneaking a peak at John over your shoulder.

"Oh, yes."

He cracked up, catching his breath. However, he wasn't in a hurry to put his hands on either of you, choosing to extend his arms on either side of your only exit and entrance.

"Nowhere left to run," he leaned on his right foot. "Nowhere left to hide." Then, on his left.

"Brother," she spoke up when you couldn't stop snickering for long enough to do so yourself. "This isn't my fault," her hands slid along your arms and clasped the heart-shaped chocolate box you wore like armor over your chest. "She made me do it."

"What?" You turned, your cheek brushing up against her batting eyelashes. "I thought we had a Thelma and Louise thing going on," your indignation was audible and only drowned out by her sweet snickering. "Help me out here, Faith."

"I'll help you," his words were velvet wrapping around the two of you while both of his hands reached out. "I'll help you both. All you have to do is atone for your sin through an exercise in virtue," his tongue was dipped in honey while he put one foot in front of the other. "Charity."

"He wants it," she whispered into your ear, winding you up along with your arms. As she moved them like a marionette's, you saw them both before you, outstretched. "Let him have it, sister." And, as she pressed her chest against your back, her hands pulled at your own and the heart-shaped chocolate box opened before him. "You want a taste?"

"Want a taste?"

John was only another slow and sure step away from snatching the entire thing, but he stopped and stuttered when all three of you opened yourself to him. "What?" He narrowed his eyes and bunched up his brows. "What are you two playing at?"

"Charity," Faith blew air like a summer breeze behind your ear.

"Charity."

He didn't bite, but he did try for a taste test. With his eyebrows now raised and his eyes digging into the box, John placed his palms atop yours.

"Let him have it," she extracted her hands from underneath his and surrendered yours for direct skin-to-skin contact.

As soon as she slithered her way down your spine and over your sides, he bound your wrists in a brisk move that had the heart-shaped box falling between your fingers and shattering in chocolates all across the balcony. Her esape plan has been a success, leaving you trapped.

"Judas," you called after your partner-in-crime who was crawling away from the chaos she'd created.

"Look at what you did," John joined both of your wrists into a single grip of his. "Look at what you made me do," he lifted your arms above your head and spun you around, slamming your back against his chest as he pulled you into a crushing caress. "Now nobody gets to have a taste."

"John," you screeched, more thrilled than tortured by his manhandling. "John, stop," your voice shifted to a higher pitch, the shrill sound of it a stranger to your own ears. "I almost stepped on one," you balanced yourself on your bare feet while being dragged across the sun-kissed balcony.

What felt right at home was the hot and heavy breath at the back of your head. "I said I would help you, didn't I?" And the sensation of his strained arm muscles maneuvering your body back into the bedroom. "All that processed sugar is bad for you," he squeezed the side of your thigh he tightened his arms around, crumpling the crispt white skirt of your new Sunday dress he had scavenged Holland Valley for.

"Let her go," you heard Faith before you saw her. She stood taller than both of you, up on the bed, but chose to come down from there by landing and latching onto John's back.

"Fuck," he screamed, swiveling and stumbling with you handing off of his arms and her hanging off of his shoulders. "Fuck," he fell to his side, cushioning the both of you as your bound bodies bounced atop the mattress.

"Let us go," she threatened, untangling his now limp limbs from around your torso before binding him with his back against the sheets and his wrists in each of her small hands. "Or else."

"Fuck," John heaved, his chest moving up and down, lifting and lowering her as she straddled it. Still, while he strained to breathe with her sitting atop of him, he didn't even bother to wrestle his hands out of hers from where they wound up: over his head. "You know I can't do that, Faith."

From where you lay across the mattress, stretched out on your side next to him, you saw a man more than content to have been captured by a couple of women. Though he did make a show out of the sweet struggle of being suffocated by the strands of the perfumed hair draped over his face.

"Then we can't let you go," you laughed, looking at your sister-in-suffering who had joined forces with you once more when she dipped her head next to yours.

"Girls," he exhaled, not even bothering to move his mouth when you stole the last of his air from his lungs with a short and sweet peck. "You're going to be the death of me," he inhaled, the Bliss clinging to Faith's hair tickling his nose.

A fourth voice raised above your girlish giggling and his heavy breathing. "Ladies," it boomed and bounced off the bedroom walls. "This asshole bothering you?" It brought your attention to the door that none of you had bothered to close.

"Brother," your sister freed your other brother, flying off of him and over to Jacob Seed. "You made it," she smashed against his side.

"'Course I made it," he smiled, none of the hard lines you saw illuminated in the moonlight all those nights ago showing themselves in the afternoon sun. "It's Valentine's Day," he stroked her hair, his large, calloused hand sliding smoothly against the crown of her head. "C'mere, angel," he beckoned you. "Jonny can't hurt you while I'm around."

"Don't let Joseph hear you call it that," you hear John comment cooly from the emptied bed while you bounced to his brother's other side, warming up to his body heat.

He snorted, swinging his arm over your shoulder. "Let's wish each other Happy Holiday within earshot. Just to be safe."

"Where is Father?"

"He's wishing everyone else a Happy Holiday," Jacob looked down at Faith, rubbing calming circles into her sad, slumped shoulders. "He was closing in on the church in Fall's End the last time I radioed him."

"I thought we'd all be there for the potluck," you looked over the chocolate hearts melting out in the sun. "Is that still happening?"

"Everyone's coming over here for dinner," Jacob followed your line of sight all the way to the balcony. "Is that what you were fighting them over, Johnny? Candy?"

"I was teaching them about charity," the youngest brother defended himself, dry and parched for attention. "That candy was supposed to be passed around at the table, not hoarded."

"He thinks I'm hoardin' you," the oldest brother whispered, winding each of his arms around your middle and whisking you both off of your feet. "Here's your charity case," he huffed, hurrying towards the bed where John still lay.

All three of you landed in a heap of laughter, latching onto the fourth with greedy, grubby hands and starved smirking mouths. Now it was you and Faith on either side of John, leaving Jacob alone and above the scene, on his hunches, hollering.

"How's that for a treat, Johnny?"

"Damn it," he answered from under the adoration he was being showered with. "God damn it," he tossed his head back when your lips slipped into his collar where it was getting hot and stuffy.

"That sweet, huh?" Jacob moved off of the mattress and made a short trip to the scene of the crime to recover the surviving chocolates.

"More like blasphemous," John's chest shook under your mouth as he chuckled. "Sinful." And he licked the corner of his mouth where Faith had kissed him. "Deadly," he smirked at the sound of her squeak. He had snatched her up by the nape of her neck. Then, he tenderly tongued at the corner of her mouth, tasting the seam of it.

"Aww," she provoked him, pressing her forehead against his. "We've been too hard on you."

"Hard?" He slid his hand down your spine, slipping it under the skirt and slapping your uncovered cheek so hard your thigh trembled where you had thrown it over his obvious bulge. "I haven't been hard enough on you."

"Thought today was supposed to be about tender loving care," Jacob joined you on the bed, hicking his knee up at the foot of it. "And treats," he plucked a heart from the similarly shaped box. "Johnny, think fast," he tossed it towards him.

To everyone's surprise, including his own, John caught the treat between his teeth. In response, Jacob barked out a laugh, Faith pulled away far enough to bring her palms together and clap, and you slacked your jaw.

"Atta boy!"

"Father be praised!"

John, with his mouth full, couldn't respond. At least, not verbally. As if to cover up the crevice that was your open mouth, he gave you half of his heart to bite.

Jacob plucked another one and popped it into his own mouth. "There's that charity you were teaching 'em about," he chewed.

"It's a virtue," John licked his lips and laid down, high on the sweetness he'd been served.

You went as far as to demonstrate the lesson, by cupping Faith's cheek and carefully passing half of the chocolate chunk to her.

"Good," the older brother gave his approval, approaching the both of you with another heart to share. And it was Faith's turn to tear into it and feed you half. "Good girl," he groaned when you glazed his chocolate-covered fingers while wrapping your lips around them. "Shit," he choked out as you sucked him in.

"That sweet, huh?" The younger brother teased.

"Loving care and sweet treats," he cleared his voice, closing the now empty box with his saliva-slick fingers. "And gifts," he tossed it towards the entrance where a rucksack rested. "Fetch."

You and Faith stared at each other for no longer than a second before sprinting toward the bag of goodies. While you shoved the door hard enough for the wind to shut it, she snatched a strap and pulled it across the floor and to the foot of the bed. And under both brothers' eyes.

"Don't tell me you went shopping."

"No," he shook his head as if turning over the idea inside his skull. "Did you?"

"I did," John draped one arm over his shoulder and dropped one atop your white sleeve. "A new dress for our new sister."

"Fancy," Jacob murmured, watching you kiss his brother's knuckles in gratitude. "Musta been expensive."

"Not more expensive than Faith's," John looked over at her, and she swung her arms in the air, her new loose sleeves fluttering like wings..

"I went huntin'," Jacob said suddently, startling you.

Locking eyes with Faith again, you slowly sunk your hand into the rucksack while she silently unzipped it.

"And pickin' flowers," Jacob leaned down, taking the lead and taking out the two newspaper-wrapped boxes.

"What? What kind of flowers growing up there anyway?" John snorted while the two of you tore into the gifts. "Did you chop down a three for each?" John inquired further, now faced with two wooden boxes, blessed with the blood-red paint of Eden Gate's Cross.

"Will you wait for 'em to open the damn things or are you just gon' guess my ear off?" He raised his voice and his posture, tensing up. "A'ight," he clutched his knees, digging his jagged nail into his warn-out jeans. "Ladies?"

Silently, the two of you made a truce to break the tension, lifting up the lids at the same time. Gasping, you gathered your gifts which consisted of a rabbit foot silver pendant and the wildflowers laid to rest in raisin at the bottom of the box.

"Went huntin' on the last full moon, when this jackrabbit jumped out," he rubbed his palms against his pants as if to dry them further. "They're supposed to be lucky charms, though those feet didn't take 'im to no pot of gold," he toyed with the foot hanging from his neck, slumping over and steading his forearms on his thighs. "Made 'em myself. And the boxes. Painted 'em. Poured the raisin."

John joined him, crossing his arms atop his thighs. "You have an artist's eye," he joined their foreheads and Jacob's frown was smothered between their skins. "Runs in the family."

"He does," Faith showed off her flowers to you. "He made us still life paintings."

You traced them through the transparent surface. "They're beautiful."

"And poisonous," she added, now adorning the taxidermied charm around her neck. "It's bittersweet nightshade."

"Poetry runs in our blood," John smiled and Jacob joined him in the end. "Beautiful and deadly."

"They are." He reached down for the both of you, and you each rested your cheek in one of his cupped hands. "Like a couple of little ladies I know."

"Thank you," Faith fluttered her lashes and kissed his thumb while it traced her sweet smile.

And you took your time nuzzling into the warm nook that was the palm of his hand.

"Do you hear that?" John perked up, peering over Jacob's bowed head and out towards the balcony.

"Cavalry's here."

Faith was fast to react, running across the floor and reclining over the railing. "He's here," she jumped on her bare feet, joining in the outdoor choir. "The Father's here," she waved down at them, then waved over to you.

The Father was preoccupied with the praise of every other sibling downstairs to spot either one of you up on the second floor. It was Jacob's whistling that diverted the direction of his eyes from the driveway and focused his split attention on a singular point. And it felt like you were in the crosshairs of a firearm instead of a heated gaze.

Your heart was racing so fast, it competed with the rabbit's foot pendant you wrapped around your wrist. And it stopped altogether when the sun highlighted the slight curve in the corner of his mouth. If it weren't for your sister squeezing your hand, you might've melted down to your feet like the chocolates still scattered on the balcony.

"Joseph," Jacob exclaimed. "See you downstairs," he enunciated.

Joseph Seed answered with a big wave and a small smirk.

"C'mere, Johnny," you caught the oldest brother's words as they slipped through the cracked open bathroom door. "You chocolate all over your mouth."

"Damn it, Jake," the sound of the youngest brother sighing had you and Faith smiling silently at each other. "I'm not a fucking child."

"Oh, shit," you heard her swear for the first time, right before she grabbed a toothbrush - John's toothbrush - from the sink and furiously cleaned her chocolate-stained front teeth. "Make it fast," she passed it to you along with the paste. "Father's probably done wishing Happy Holiday by now."

"Gimmie a second," you sighed, still shaking from the earlier sighting. "Just need a second," you tremble as you thread your fingers through your hair.

"Here," she smoothed her fingers against your scalp and behind your ears. "He loves this fragrance," she stroked the spot with the scent she chemically engineered herself and had bottled especially for you in a glass vial. "He won't even notice the nervous sweat."

"Shut up," you lean back against her, laughing.

"I like it," she stared you down, over your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "You smell like you did back when you lept off of Joseph's Word," she nuzzled the strip of skin she rubbed the Bliss-based spray into. "You were so scared," her lips latched onto your earlobe. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" She whispered over the wet flesh and you whimpered. "Now you're one with the Father."

You remember it like a dream or a nightmare. Sister Faith had you take a leap of faith like every other Devoted, but it wasn't enough to keep on the Path. In the end, it wasn't Brother Jacob who brought you to your knees. It was Brother John who filled you with fear, soaked you in your own sweat, and make you bow before the Father.

Now, with a trembling on your lips and a thrill up your spine, you toss your head back, resting it on her shoulder, and taste sweet trepidation behind her tongue and sucked in a minty tongue.

"Your second's up," she pulled away, pulling a pained sound out of you.

"One more," you spun around, snatching her up and sitting her atop the sink.

"You're bad," she giggled while you gathered up the white lace into her lap and shoved your satin skirt-covered thighs in the sweet, slick space between hers. "Such a bad influence," she puffed, pushing her pelvis forward.

"Shut up and kiss me," you spoke into her gaping mouth, grinding down on he groin.

Your tongues had only just passed each other when reality came rapping at the bathroom door.

"Ladies," Jacob sounded faint like he'd been the one stealing breaths away. "Joseph's downstairs."

"In a minute," your sister spoke for the both of you, sliding off of the sink and smoothing down her dress skirt. In a minute, she combed through your mushed hair and cooled down your boiling blood. "Take the leap," she laced her fingers with yours and took the lead. "It'll be worth it."

John escorted you, holding the bedroom door open. "Take a good long look, Jake. That's the last we'll see of them."

"Just turn your head around, jackass," Jacob followed in your footsteps.

"You know what I mean," you heard John closing in on you and the first flight of stairs. "Daddy's home."

"Startin' to think it's you who needs to learn how to share," he lowered the volume of his voice the further down you went. "Bet that bed back there could fit five."

Faith feigned ignorance, swinging the bound arms between the two of you as she skipped her way to the sofa where Joseph Seed sat with a guitar in his lap.

"Father!" She bounced onto the bear rug and you followed, feeling the fur tickle your toes. "Look!" Turning towards you, she unfurled your fingers and thought you how to twirl.

And you mirrored her, moving counterclockwise, and pausing with your hands on each side of your skirt. "Mine has pockets, too," you slipped them inside.

"Brother John got them for us!"

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him and he hesitated at first, but eventually smiled back.

Like you, John picked up on the guitar pick pausing, and the strumming stopping. The Father was about to speak.

"Beautiful," his sky-blue eyes lit up behind the sun of his glasses like he already knew where to look for the 'deadly' that 'beautiful' was paired up with. Lifting the guitar off of his lap, he sat each of you on either side of him. And so, he hoisted your leg up on his thigh, while you folded the other under you and cozied up into the cushions.

"John always had an eye for the finer things in life," his voice was warm and his breath was hot as he spoke against the slope of your neck like he already picked up on the perfume.

"Runs in the family," John's smile was sincere as he came to sit at your side.

"You'd have to be blind not to know a pretty little thing when you see one," Jacob took you by your hand and showed off the silver pendant nestled in the palm of it. "Killed this one for 'em. And for good luck."

"Is that blood on your hands? Joseph focused on his thumb, the sweet stain still clinging to it.

"Chocolate," he chuckled after taste-testing it. "We shared a box full of 'em."

John smothered a laugh between your shoulder blades and Faith hid her face under Father's chin.

"I see," the Father unfurrowed his brow, relaxing his rigid muscles underneath your tentative touch. "I do hope you saved room for dessert."

"Doncha mean dinner, Joseph?"

"I mean cupcakes," his smirk returned, a hand running through your hair, tucking it behind your ear while he took another whiff.

"Oh," Faith brightened up, bouncing on his knee. "You've been baking again?"

"No," he pecked her pouting lips. "We'll be baking. All of us. As a family."

"A'ight," Jacob's joints popped as he plopped himself next to Faith. "Long as the baby doesn't go anywhere near a stove."

"The baby?" You were confused, but only until John cleared the fog you found yourself in.

"There he goes again. Jake, I'm your kid brother, not an actual kid."

"You are the man of the house," Joseph said solemnly, with only a sprinkle of sarcasm. "Thank you for hosting us this holiday, John."

"Happy Holiday," you wished him, just as you and Jacob had agreed.

"Happy Holiday, my child," he murmured into your mouth, gifting you your first kiss on the last day of summer.

And, if God is good, it would be the first day of the Collapse.

[derelictlovefool]

Could I request a John Seed x f!reader, deputy or not whichever, where reader tries to get John out of the cult bs before stuff gets too bad/violent? Fluffy smut maybe? 🌸

Hi anon! Thank you for the request but I don't write fem!readers as other amazing writers already have that well and truly covered. I like to focus on gender neutral and male readers! If you're okay with me doing this with a gender neutral reader instead i'd be happy to write it! 😊💕

[direwombat]

That anon again. Thank you for listening to my rambling. And if it matters any, Joseph gets plenty of chances to Suffer during my dep's canon. Because we're (plural because this is all from an RP verse my best friend and I have where she plays Joseph and a 'John fucker' GFH while I play my dep and John) bitches like that and can't let the Seed boys get away with being the worst without suffering for it. (1/?)

A major theme of Joe and Dep's relationship is 'be careful what you wish for' since he spends a good early portion of things wanting to change her to fit his whims (for her 'own good' of course), but oops, he gets attached to who she is but by the time he realizes it, his actions are already responsible for her having begun to change for the worse. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Joseph. Now suffer. And I'm rambling again, but I had another question to ask. Two actually.

First: how did you first get comfortable with sharing Syb with the rest of tumblr? I ask because part of me is tempted to do this with my Dep, but the other part of me is scared of being perceived and judged for my dep, my interpretations of characters, etc. Two: With Augustine becoming Faith, did Joseph specifically pull this to punish Syb? Because I'm getting big 'you took my family member, now I take yours' vibes. And it sounds about right and petty and fucked up enough for Joe. (3/3)

f;lakdjfaldfkj that's TOTALLY FAIR i sure as hell don't let jacob off easy either fal;dfjkadf

and OOF well...to answer question 1: i've been shouting about my ocs into the void of the internet for the past several years (got started in the dragon age fandom, moved to the general dnd fandom, and ended up here) having friends already on tumblr/in the fandom space to share ideas and bounce off of certainly helps. it's for sure scary!, but tbh? the more you talk about them the more curious people will get. at least that's been my experience. and then of course, engaging with other people who have their own ocs, rb-ing their art/fic/sending asks for ask games and prompt lists are a great way to kind of find your place in the fandom/community and make friends! And to address your fear of being judged for your dep/interpretations of characters, i'll just say this: fandom would be boring if everyone had the exact same interpretation of the characters and it's ok to disagree with an interpretation as long as you're not a dick about it, yk? And, just like people irl, everyone's deputy is different and adds to the fandom!

my advice: do whatever you feel most comfortable doing. make your characters in picrews and do those uquizes! I normally open tag, so if you see one from me that you like! tag me! this includes wip wednesdays/whenevers too if you ever feel brave enough to share any writing you have! BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, you are your oc's number one fan! if (god forbid, and i've never seen this happen personally) someone doesn't like them and has the gall, the sheer audacity to say that to your face? block them. have fun with your oc is what i'm getting at. they're your little barbie/bratz/whatever doll that inspires the most nostalgia for you. we're all just playing little games, telling little stories and dressing up our personal blorbos however we want. :)

as for question 2:

ahh.. poor sweet Augustine. So, Augustine is a park ranger who was on duty at the Whitetails Ranger Station the night of the Reaping and was injured in a pretty nasty fall. One of his coworkers (another oc, Shaw) is one of Jacob's Chosen (who spent a lot of time undercover as a civilian), and after hearing that the Deputy escaped, he essentially lets Jacob know that they have a piece of leverage against her. He's sent to Joseph to heal, where he's very subtley and slowly indoctrinated into the cult. He keeps Augustine hidden from Syb and he also keeps it secret that Syb is the one causing misery to the Cult/newfound family Augustine has found himself welcomed into (as much as he and syb love each other, they're not perfect and uh...there are some abandonment issues there). anyway, i'm still kind of ironing out the details of it all, but essentially, after john and faith are neutralized (john dead and faith/rachel safe and getting clean) jacob and joseph are like, "alright, time to use our secret weapon." Syb knows they have Augustine at this point, but she's under the impression that he's a prisoner, not a member of the cult.

So they meet up on neutral ground (i'm thinking tanami island) only instead of a loving and wholesome reunion, Syb finds out that her brother drank the kool-aid and Augustine finds out that his sister is the one causing the "unnecessary" violence plaguing the Project (which also, Joseph is very careful to shield Augustine from the actual violence, and paints the Project as a much more peaceful organization than it actually is). Anyway, cult tactics win over in Augustine's head and he turns against Syb, and given the power vacuum in the Henbane and his *ahem* closeness to Joseph, he's offered the mantle of Herald/Brother Faith. And. Yeah. It's definitely a method to punish/break Syb, and it's also a way to reward Augustine for his loyalty. Even she wouldn't kill or arrest her own brother. That reunion with her brother is the beginning of Syb's breaking point, and everything after that is just her slipping into misery, helplessness, and despair. everything about this is exploitative as hell :)

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a sequel.

chapter one: genesis

word count: 5.8k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, religious blasphemy, cults amok, massively canon divergent (if you’re here then like...you know), body horror and horror in general, brainwashing, manipulation, you know the drill. john is himself, and thus: deserving of a warning. in this chapter specifically, brief mention, in passing, of mass suicide.

notes: hi friends! yes, i'm aware that this is a week early. i apologize. i wanted to get this chapter out while i had the thoughts in my head; not a lot of exciting stuff happens, most of it is just... setting things up for where we're going and where we're going to be, but i hope that you enjoy it nonetheless! thank you, of course, to my beta reader @starcrier​; this chapter was in a lot rougher shape before she got to it. if you have the chance, please check out her writing--she is just absolutely incredible! 

and thank you to everyone who did me the GREAT blessing of reviewing and supporting ancient names. i really can't believe i'm out here!! with people interested in what i have to say about this fucking nutso canon-divergent universe i am building! gosh i just hope y’all enjoy it. fun stuffs to come.

summary: —to fall like a wounded animal into a place that was meant for revelations.

there are many injustices that john seed will tolerate. the betrayal, and subsequent departure, of his wife and child is not one of them.

or: elliot honeysett just wants to live her life in quiet seclusion, and there's no way in hell that's happening.

“This is a very old story.”

It was cold, and dark, and the night stayed cloudy and moonless. As Helmi picked up the gun clasped between the two corpses, she glanced furtively in the brunette’s direction. Her gaze was impossible to read, the severe lines of her face accented only by the dim, flickering light of the neon sign; Kajsa had always looked like this, though, sharp like broken glass was, reflecting only and not taking anything in. Protected.

Helmi lifted her gaze back to the dead pair at her feet, up to the neon sign that blinked The Spread Eagle, and then down and stopping at the words written in dried blood on the paneling.

WRATH, DO YOU WANT TO BLOOM IN ME?

“You and me,” Kajsa murmured, and now it was her turn to watch. “Them. Eden’s Gate, and the Mother. All of it has happened before and will happen again.” She sighed, as though it troubled her, the dark arch of her brows pulling together to knit at the center of her forehead. With the only source of the light being the bar’s sign, her skin was an eerie, pallid red-and-blue, darting and worming across her expression. “We’ll turn this world into winter, Hel. The two of us.”

Helmi watched her for a long moment. “Kajsa—”

“Douse them.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her sweater, turning and stepping over the two other dead bodies they had dragged from where they had been propped up against the wall. “I want this place in ashes by sunrise.”

“Yes.”

Kajsa didn’t wait for her to begin walking to the car, idling still a safe distance away. Helmi preferred it that way. For a few minutes—and that’s all it would take, really, to unlatch the canister lid and toss the gasoline over the bodies, against the paneling of the wall, atop the roof—she could turn her brain off, forget the way Kajsa’s eyes see straight through her, forget the bodies of her brothers and sisters as she tossed the match on them and watched the flame eat through the fuel.

Hungry. A beast. Like me, Helmi thought absently, as the flames licked at the sky, reaching reaching reaching. Watching them felt like watching the souls of her brothers and sisters reaching for the stars, carried away in wisps of foul-smelling smoke. She wondered, do they feel it now? Do they feel the sting, the burn? When their bodies haven’t been given to It, do they feel it all after?

“Come, Helmi,” Kajsa called from the car. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

They had been at it for hours, this methodical and clinical extinguishing of bodies. Every spot that they had agreed and picked out on the map in such an instance was now blacked out. Burned. Their brothers and sisters had done what was expected of them, and for that, they would not be forced to rot—they would be turned to charcoal, to ash, only blood and bone spent.

Her feet carried her back to the car as the flames began to devour more than just flesh, crawling along the rooftop of the Spread Eagle and popping in the still, quiet night. Kajsa’s hand came up to her face and cradled her cheek, fixing her with those eyes: dark eyes, shades of gray and glassy, like a shark.

“Ingenting under solen är beständigt,” she said, the pad of her thumb brushing across Helmi’s cheekbone. For a second, the older woman almost looked like—well, looked like something, an unknown flicker of emotion crossing her face—but then it cleared.

Hel watched her curiously, waiting until the hand against her cheek dropped before she said, “I know, Kajsa.”

Kajsa nodded. Only once, short and brisk, the gesture as sharp as the lines of her face. “Make sure you do not forget.”

I won’t, Helmi thought, but did not say. Kajsa had never believed words before, and she would not start now. Helmi would just have to show her that she had not forgotten.

She looked back; the singeing of flesh fizzing in the air, the crackle of devouring flame whispering to her. A cleansing fire. Their bodies weren’t given to The Father, but they had given in another way, with their lives—in a way that still mattered.

“Kajsa,” Hel said, bringing the woman’s attention back to her, “do they feel it, still? The fire, when they’re gone?”

“Perhaps,” Kajsa replied, jaw absently working something wadded just in the hollow of her throat; words she wanted to say, and could not. Or would not. It was always hard to tell, with Kajsa. “It’s not for us to know. The after belongs only to the dead.” The dark-haired woman opened the driver’s side of the car, pulling her gloves off of her hands and tossing them inside. “Get in the car, Helmi. I want to keep track of that interloper.”

Interloper. The kinder of the words that what remained of them had been using for John Seed and his merry band of fuck-ups and patience-testers. Heretics, zealots, apostate—

The list was unending. Helmi wished she could run out of disdain, but she knew that she would not be able to. Sorrow and mourning for those they had lost came in absolutes, in fixed amounts, but the bitterness persisted. She swung into the passenger side of the car, shutting it against the smell of burning skin, and exhaled slowly through her nose.

Kajsa pulled the car away from the sight. Hopefully it would be just as the harbinger wished—by sunrise, Hope County would be leveled by fire and flame, nothing but ash and ruined structure left. If the scraps of Eden’s Gate didn’t try and douse it out. If they didn’t continue to interfere.

She glanced out the window to the sky. The tires of the car hit the highway, and Kajsa clicked the cruise control on, and as tendrils of smoke clung to the stars, the clouds parted and the light of the new moon filtered down. Just a sliver of her light, but cold and cruel and reliable all the same.

“It’s pleased,” Kajsa said lightly.

Hel made a low noise of agreement, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against the glass. “Are you?”

“Not yet,” the older woman murmured. When Hel glanced over at her, her eyes were fixed on the road; the headlights switched off, and in the far distance, she could see the tail lights of another vehicle glowing red as blood in the darkness. Seed, Hel thought through the haze of her exhaustion.

“But very soon, I will be.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One Week Later

“Are you warm enough? Where’s your scarf? Elliot?”

The door was only inches away, and yet—somehow—she’d managed to not make it out without the barrage of questions that typically accompanied any of her departures. Taking in a soft breath, Elliot closed her eyes for a moment, leaving her hand on the door handle.

“I am sufficiently bundled,” she promised, turning to regard her mother, standing in the foyer. “I don’t need a scarf between the front porch and the car.”

“Scarf, please,” her mother murmured, deigning to set her martini glass down in order to pluck it off of the coat rack. Elliot watched the movement curiously—not because she had never seen her mother set aside an alcoholic beverage before, but because these days it seemed more often than not that she was beginning to slow down on them; a thing which Elliot never thought she would see. Part of it might have been the sudden upheaval of having her grown, child-carrying daughter and dog suddenly move in with her, and part of it may have just been, well, time—but either way, she didn’t think she could ask.

There were some things that were just better left unsaid.

“Okay,” Elliot relented tiredly. “I’ll wear the scarf.”

“It’s not just about you anymore, bunny.”

“I know, mama.”

“So wear the scarf—”

“I am,” she insisted irritably, making a great show of flinging the scarf around her neck. I know it’s not just about me, something prickly inside of her said, I fucking know, it’s never been about me, and it’s especially not about me now.

Scarlet eyed her for a moment, wary. This had been happening a lot more now, too—these odd, lingering looks her mother had begun to favor her with. It was the same way Sheriff Whitehorse had looked at her, and the same way Burke had looked at her that last time before she—

Well.

Forcing her tone to lightness, Elliot said, “Happy?”

“Hardly,” her mother replied tartly. “No reason to be spending time around horses in your delicate condition. And you’ve been so irritable as of late—”

“It’s supposed to be good for anxiety.” Elliot glossed over the additional barb blithely, years of muscle-memory kicking in now.

“Getting some sleep would help your anxiety.” Jab, jab, duck, her mother’s tell-tale movements, skittering across their conversation like so many little spiders. It had been so long before this that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be engaging in a constant verbal battle with someone who was supposed to love her.

That wasn’t necessarily true, either. She had plenty of experience ducking and parrying verbal punches from someone who claimed to love her, as of late.

“I don’t—” Puffing out a sharp breath through her nose, Elliot passed a hand over her face. Sleep had not been her friend, not before and certainly not now. Too many strange, unnerving dreams about handsome, blue-eyed men with flowers blooming out of their eyes for her liking. “I’m not taking medication that’s not prescribed to me, mama. Sorry. But it’s like you said, it’s not just about me anymore. Right?”

Scarlet picked up her martini glass, waving her hand as she turned to head back into the living room where the fire still glowed warm and hungry in the hearth. Yes, there was nothing she would have preferred more than to give in to the despair and apathy welling up inside of her, curl up under the blankets in her bedroom, safe and tucked away in a perfect bubble; but she couldn’t, because stronger than that apathy was an uneasiness, anxiety that vibrated just under her skin.

Not safe, it told her, during the day when she was trying to relax and at night when she was trying to sleep. Not safe, not us.

That was the real gut-punch of the whole thing. Before, the paranoia, the anxiety, the hyper-sensitivity—they had all been things that served a purpose. Her body had been ready for constant assault because she had been under constant assault. But now? Now, she was in bumfuck-nowhere Georgia, with no bills to pay, no job to maintain, only one task: be healthy, for baby. Be happy, and healthy, and do it for baby, because that was her only responsibility. She could no longer function as a single autonomous unit because she was not, by all intents and purposes, a single. Autonomous. Unit. And yet?

And yet.

And yet, the off switch was broken, somewhere in her brain. Broken, or locked behind bars, or somewhere that she couldn’t reach it. Her brain still liked to think she was under constant assault. And if Scarlet’s verbal fencing skills were anything to go by, maybe it was a fair judgment of the situation.

“...standing there for?” Scarlet asked from the couch, her voice filtering in through some strange fuzziness that had erupted in her brain.

“Just—thinking,” Elliot managed, forcing a smile onto her face. She could tell it fell flat from the way her mother regarded her, but she cleared her throat quickly and glanced at Boomer, waiting patiently by the door. “You gonna take care of mama, Boomer?”

“He certainly will not.”

“Protect the homestead.”

“Elliot—”

“He can’t come with me to the barn,” Elliot informed her mother primly. “He’ll be well-behaved here, I promise.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. It was something that couldn’t be argued, Boomer’s manners, and so finally she said, “Just don’t be gone long, then.”

Nodding, Elliot opened the front door and slipped out, keys clutched in her hands. The first snowfall of the winter had hit; it was still fresh and powdery, crunching underfoot, and by the time she was carefully pulling out of the driveway, she had nearly forgotten about the strange static fuzz rattling around in her head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot lifts the glass of champagne to her mouth. Here, John can see the wedding band on her finger—gold and simple, for now. He’d promised her something nicer after things quieted down. She’d said, of course, that she didn’t need anything nicer; she was happy with the one she had. With him.

He thinks that she has never looked so beautiful, bathed in the romantic glow of fairy lights, hair pinned back and the white of the wedding dress dappling lace across her skin. And wearing the ring, of course.

I love you, he wants to say, but cannot. I love you so much, he wants to say, but does not; he watches her set the flute down on the table and he opens his mouth to say it. He has to tell her—she has to know, all of those things he had said, he didn’t mean them. He loves her. He has to tell her so that she can know.

John reaches for her and opens his mouth. She lets him take her face, lashes fluttering closed; when he tries to say it, when he wills the words out of his lungs, he is choking, choking, choking, the sickening scent of flowers rushing over him and he heaves.

The petals spill from his mouth. They tumble to the ground between them. You’re mine, he wants to say, I love you, but the petals choke him on their way out, billowing out from his lungs and tripping on their way out of him, blowing out in gorgeous baby-soft puffs that leave his throat shredded from the inside out.

His hands find her shoulders. He clutches her, because he can’t breathe—there are too many of them, these flowers, each labored attempt at breath making it worse. He’s choking, and Elliot grabs his face with her hands as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

She shoves her fingers into his mouth, packing the petals against the back of his throat, and he can’t breathe, and she says—

“I told you that you couldn’t have both.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John jolted awake, the sound of the alarm on his phone echoing in the tight space of his car. The dream lingered, stuck somewhere in the back of his throat and on his ribs like a heavy meal yet to be digested. It took a few blinks for him to really gather himself, remember where he was, who he was, what it was he had been doing. It felt like he could still taste the petals in his mouth.

Wicked devil, he thought tiredly, the image of Elliot looking down at him—wretched, and unyielding, as he choked to death—burned behind his eyelids. Even in my dreams, you’re ungrateful.

On his way out of Hope County, he’d dropped the Eden’s Gate truck for some poor shmuck’s sedan. It certainly wasn’t the kind of car he was used to driving in, and not for long periods of time, but he couldn’t risk a cop tagging his plates and finding out that the car was owned by him.

Not that he thought news of what had happened in Hope County had reached anyone yet. The government had their hands full as it was, he was sure—if the news on the radio had anything to say about it, anyway—so he imagined that the extraction of a few “criminals” out of Hope County, Montana had hit the backburner.

Passing a hand over his face tiredly, John tossed the book he’d fallen asleep reading onto the passenger seat and shut the alarm off on his phone. The book joined a collection of others, the titles including but not limited to Unconditional Parenting, The Whole-Brain Child, and other such riveting pieces, set to guide him along the path of parenthood.

He had been in Weyfield for three days; finding Elliot’s ancestral home hadn’t been hard, considering there were only a handful of houses that said rich by their exterior, and fewer less of those that looked to have been constructed so many years ago. In fact, the house that he had narrowed down looked the epitome of a wealthy Southerner’s ancient household; big front columns binding the two-story structure together, a sweeping front porch, and what he could only assume was a painstakingly-maintained garden when it wasn’t covered in a healthy foot of snow.

But more than that—more than the house, and the snow, and the stupid, shitty car he’d been living in for the last week—was Elliot.

His sleep schedule was fucked up because her sleep schedule was fucked up. He’d only caught glimpses of her through the windows, on occasion, and as much as he wanted to go charging into that house and demand she come back to Hope County with him, John knew he had to go about this very carefully. Elliot had willfully left him to be arrested, and she had willfully lied to him, and she had willfully and spitefully informed him of her pregnancy, and that meant that there were too many factors for him to think he could just breeze in and out. He was going to have to be diligent about everything—and that meant learning as much as he could before she figured out he was there.

It made him feel psychotic. It made him feel like a madman, but he supposed that was to be expected. That’s amore.

He had figured out precisely three things since his arrival in Weyfield: Elliot was staying with a woman he could only presume to be her mother, she had yet to make any friends, and she wasn’t sleeping. Every single night—or morning—she was up, moving around on the second floor and sometimes the first. It was nearly Christmas, now, which meant that she had to be at least nearly five weeks. What was she doing, up and about all hours of the night?

Now, watching Elliot haul herself into the jeep, bundled up and puffing hot air onto her hands, he thought, where are you going without the beast, huh? Haven’t seen you spend a second away from him.

John watched the car pull carefully out of the driveway and then head down the road. He’d been parked beneath the cover of a snowy row of cedars, the air inside as cold as outside by the time he’d woken out of his tenuous sleep. Now, as the sight of the dark Jeep disappeared down the residential lane and turned onto the street that would take her out to the country, he turned the key in the ignition.

The car came to life with a shuddering groan. It took a few tries to dig himself out of the fresh snowfall, tires skidding and the orange light reminding him—time and time again—that the tires were having a hard time. Thanks, you piece of shit, he thought tiredly, finally pulling out of the little ditch and setting off down the road. He let a few cars go ahead of him before he turned down the same street Elliot had, driving until the houses became fewer and fewer and it was more pastureland; three cars ahead, he saw Elliot pull down a long drive that wound for an eternity until a...barn?

A fucking stable?

“What the fuck,” he said under his breath, sighing. He should have known—of course she’d find some reason to spend her afternoon around stinking animals. Was that safe for her to be doing? Being around horses?

He pulled a slow u-turn and found a turn out at the top of the hill—close enough to see when she was leaving, but not close enough that he could be seen if she was pulling out. As soon as he shut the car off, the engine ticking as it cooled, John settled back against the seat and let out a long, suffering breath.

Well. He supposed that she should have been grateful she wasn’t leading a particularly exciting life, but he wouldn’t have minded something a little more exciting than this. Something more than staying holed up in her mother’s home—something which he was sure she did not enjoy, if the way she had spoken of her mother before had been any indication—or the occasional walk down the lane with the hound.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Once he felt confident he knew what was going on, once John had figured out what exactly he was up against when it came to fetching Elliot from this Stepford nightmare of a back-water-nobody-town, he’d get a couple of extra resources gathered and snag Elliot hook, line, and sinker.

But first, he would just have to wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was pretty easy to find a place that wanted someone to come and brush their horses for free. Elliot had called around to a few places at the behest of her doctor, who had been displeased when she explained no, she did not want to speak to a therapist, but yes, she would take the suggestion of seeking out other avenues of emotional healing.

I’m going to be frank with you, Miss Honeysett, the doctor had said, her voice stern, you can’t keep going the way you are. Stress is bad for babies, let alone post-traumatic stress.

Elliot had fervently nodded her head and explained that yes, she understood, and yes, she would make sure to find a place to relax and destress. And that was how she ended up here the first few times, and now standing in a stall, bringing a brush slowly over the shiny gold coat of a palomino that stood by idly while she fumbled herself through the motions. She had spent a lot of time around horses before, back when she was a kid—back when her grandfather still had his own little mini stable. After he’d died, the horses had of course been sold, even though Elliot had begged her mother to let her keep just one of them.

“They’re racehorses, Elliot, not show ponies,” her mother had snipped, all those years ago. “What are you going to do with a racehorse?”

Run, she’d thought then. Run and run and run, as far as he’ll take me, and we’ll camp out under the stars and then we’ll run some more until no one can find me ever again.

That had been a dream, of course. Now she only had her two legs to carry her wherever she wanted to go, and they had served her pretty well.

“Been around horses before?” someone asked lightly from the stall door. “Before the last couple of times you’ve been here, I mean.”

Elliot’s gaze flickered, snapped out of her thoughts—out of that girl she had been so many years ago—and landed on the same young woman that had gone through all of her paperwork and given her the run-down. Her name was...Sarah? No, it was something else. Something with an S. She was pretty; dark honey-blonde hair swept up into a ponytail, her face pretty enough to be woman and round enough to make that woman look angelic.

“A long time ago,” Elliot admitted sheepishly, her fingers braided into the palomino’s mane as she worked the kinks out of it. “When I was little.”

“Ah,” the woman said, smiling. “It’s sort of like riding a bicycle. How come you aren’t riding?”

“My doctor said not to.” She paused, because that sounded suspicious, and then said, “And anyway, I’d be making a fool out of myself.”

“Everyone makes a fool out of themselves the first time around, even after a long time. But of course, we want you safe,” the blonde replied somberly, but a smile still ticked the corners of her mouth. When she shifted, Elliot could see that her name tag said Sylvia W. “Hey, you’re Honeysett’s kid, aren’t you?”

Ellliot stifled a groan. She had made it through precisely two interactions without someone bringing up her mother in the entire time that she’d been back in Weyfield, and she had been hoping to make this a third. Glancing over at Sylvia’s curious expression, Elliot managed out as politely as she could, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Your mama called,” Sylvia explained amusedly. “Wanted to make sure you got here without problems.”

I’m twenty-six. “Ugh.”

“It’s cute, but she’s...” Sylvia’s gaze flickered while she tried to come up with a word. And then: “Strong.”

A quick, sharp laugh billowed out of her, unexpected, because the idea of someone calling her mother strong was absurd—not because she wasn’t, but because so many other words came to mind before the word ‘strong’ did. Elliot stifled the second laugh that tried to bubble up out of her, and Sylvia grinned.

“Take it that’s not the first impression people get of your mama?”

“No, Sylvia, it certainly is not.”

“Via is fine,” the blonde corrected, not unkindly. After a second, of quiet introspection, she continued, “If you ever wanna get out of your house, my brother and I go to that bar in town—you know, the uh.... Wild Rose? They do trivia night every Thursday. Winner gets fifty bucks.”

“Wow,” Elliot said without thinking, “a whole fifty dollars? To split between the three of us, huh?”

Via flashed a grin. “I knew you had a sense of humor.”

The words caught something funny in her chest, hooking into her all of a sudden. Reminding her that once, she had been funny—once, she’d had friends. Once, she’d had this kind of rapport with—

Shut the fuck up, she thought to herself, viciously, if you wallow every time you think about that fuckface you’re never going to get anywhere.

“So?” Via prompted. “What do you think? Want to be our third?”

“I’m—that’s really nice of you,” Elliot managed out. “I think this week I’ll have to pass. If you think my mama’s strong over the phone, just imagine her in person and five drinks in.”

The blonde grimaced. “Fair enough. But, invite’s always extended, alright?”

“Thanks, Sy—Via.” Elliot corrected herself, earning a quick, playful wink from Sylvia before she disappeared down the hall to resume her duties. She finished brushing the old brute; on occasion he’d twist his head back to bump the dark velvet of his nose against her side, reminding her that he was there and appreciated her.

She finished up the last of the brushing and then dumped her things in the bucket before she carried it out. The last few times she had been here had passed in much the same way—and now that she thought about it, hadn’t Via offered the trivia night thing to her before? Or was she just imagining things?

“Need sleep,” she murmured to no one in particular, depositing her bucket and brushing her hands against her jeans before sliding her coat on. When she had signed herself out on the sheet and stepped out into the late afternoon, the sun had already gone down; it left the world terribly blue, the sky blue and the snow blue-tinted, like someone had slapped a dim neon light over the sun.

Elliot puffed a hot breath of air out, fishing around for her keys and unlocking the car. As her gaze swept absently over the landscape, she spotted a car parked at a pull-out just up the hill. From where she was, it was hard to see—perhaps nearly impossible—and she wouldn’t have noticed if—

If she wasn’t so concerned about seeing a face that was too familiar. Burke, even, would be an unwelcome addition to her life in Weyfield. She tried to stuff down her paranoia; someone was surely just parked while they were sending a text, or making a phone call, or...

Or, they’re watching you, something inside of her said. She ducked into the driver’s side of the car, cranking the heater, but no amount of hot air washed the voice away. Maybe they’re watching you and waiting to arrest you. Or, maybe it’s—

But it couldn’t be. Because the Seeds were in Federal custody, and that meant they weren’t her problem anymore.

Elliot pulled out of the yard, and then carefully onto the highway, checking her mirror every now and then as she drove the short distance home. Just to be sure. Just to be safe. Someone else pulled out of the stable yard, behind her, and then cresting over the hill came a car that might have been the same one that was parked, and maybe wasn’t, because she hadn’t been able to see the make and model, but if it was, then she would have to make some extra turns on her way home, and...

“No,” she said, firmly. “It’s no one. It’s nothing. Just traffic. Other people live here too, you idiot.”

The remainder of the drive was spent forcing herself to keep her eyes on the road and only checking her mirrors when polite driving protocol called for it. After all of that fussing she’d done, she was the only one pulling down the road to her house, and even when she waited in the driveway for a few minutes, nobody followed. No headlights. No strange, dark cars. No monsters to haunt the corners of her vision.

“You’re late,” her mother called from the kitchen when she stepped inside, shaking the snow out of her hair and shrugging out of her coat.

“Traffic,” Elliot lied without thinking. God, had she always been such a wretched liar? Surely not, right? “Smells good, mama.”

“I should hope so. I slaved over it.”

Elliotshot her mother a dry look, taking a bowl out of the cupboard and beginning to scoop the stew Scarlet had made into it. Boomer waited patiently in the doorway of the kitchen—no dogs allowed rule vehemently obeyed—and when Elliot picked two pieces of bread out of the basket on the counter, still warm, her mother said, “How were the horses?”

She paused in the doorway. The stairs to the second floor, and the subsequent peace and quiet, were just there. “Good,” she replied after a moment, inching toward the doorway. “Polite. I—made a friend.”

Scarlet looked up from the book she’d been reading, eyes narrowing. “A horse friend?”

“No, a—a person!”

“Mm.” Scarlet looked back at her book. “Just be careful who you associate with, Elli, you never know who has a reputation here.”

“But you do.” Elliot’s foot hit the first bottom stair. “I’m relying on you to watch my back. Thank you for dinner.”

Before her mother could ask her where she thought she was going—“Taking food up to your room, Elliot? What are you, nine?”—she had fled up them, Boomer trailing after her until she had the bedroom door safely closed and locked with a breath of relief sweeping out of her. Every interaction was like that; wondering if she was going to make a misstep, drag herself into an argument that she didn’t want to have and which she would only be able to escape if she acquiesced and admitted that her mother was right.

Splitting one of the pieces of bread in half, she tossed it to Boomer and kicked her shoes off. He chomped happily, tail brushing against the floor. Elliot ate her dinner with the dim, low volume of the TV playing in the background, until half of her soup was gone and she had curled up under the blankets. It wasn’t until the Heeler burrowed into the blankets next to her, pressed against her side, that she finally felt the dredges of exhaustion begin to pull at her.

The sleeping pills her mother had given to her sat on her bedside table, still untouched. I don’t need them, she thought, shutting the tv off and the lights with it. I don’t need them to sleep.

I’m just fine.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Night fell heavy, quiet and cold. By the time the late hours had passed and early morning was beginning to roll around—the kind of early where the world still slept—Elliot found herself standing in the hallway.

She blinked tiredly. She was still in her jeans; she’d neglected to change. Her hands were on the banister, and below her the living room stretched, long and only dimly lit, effused by the glow of the night lights peppered throughout the house. How did she get here? Had she slept walk? What had woken her?

Slowly, and then all at once, the sound of static drifting from the cracked door of her bedroom registered in her brain. The television was on; that must have been what had woken her. Elliot stood for a minute longer, trying to collect herself, trying to see if she was still dreaming, and then pushed the door to her bedroom open.

Boomer was snoozing quietly on the bed still. The telvision’s channel flickered static once, twice, and when Elliot reached for the remote, the static flipped again and the screen went black.

Not powered-off black. Just—a black screen, still backlit, empty.

White text blinked onto the screen.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot felt her stomach flip. The text blinked out, and then blinked back on, and then stayed. Her heart thudded aggressively against her rib cage, demanding—out out out, it said, desperate for a reprieve from this sudden chill spilling down her spine. She reached blindly, no longer sure where the remote was, when the text blinked again.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

No, she thought furiously, even though she knew it wasn’t true and that it didn’t matter. Whatever kind of strange late-night programming this was—and that’s what it had to be—wasn’t going to give her a response and certainly wasn’t waiting for one. She would just need to—

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot’s fingers gripped the remote and she pressed her finger feverishly, missing the power button once, twice, and then a third time before she finally hit it and the television clicked off. Her hands were shaking; her whole body was shaking, and she quickly crawled back under the covers until Boomer was whuffling, tired and inquisitive, against her face. Her fingers knotted in his fur and she closed her eyes tight.

Even when they were closed, she saw the words, burned behind her eyelids. The inner strength to stay like that only lasted for another few minutes before she grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills and took one, swallowing it down dry and then dropping the container back on to her nightstand.

She would sleep. She would sleep, and forget about the strange commercial, and she would get her fucking life together.

In the morning. After sleep.

No strange dreams, she thought, not for me.

Not anymore.

[travelbystarlight]

I got joy, joy, joy in my soul tonight / I got joy, joy, joy in my arms alright / Although you treat me badly, I love you madly / You really got a hold on me, you really got a hold on me

Had the absolute honor of commissioning @redreart to create another Joseph/Tawny piece for me and she knocked it out of the park. 100% everything I was imagining plus she captured Tawny perfectly!! 😭😭😭

I've been brewing in my mind for the past few months an AU where Tawny decides to go with Joseph after meeting him back like ten years before the start of the game and ends up marrying him. She's both loved...and feared 😈 lol

also bonus lol: