#excited for her to have Dialogue and such

[berryzoey]

Helloooo :P

could i perchance request my beautiful wives (Mira, Zoey and Mystery) who likes playing video games, specifically farming sims? i am a BIG Stardew Valley fan, and i force all my friends to play it with me (send help i have 100+ hours of the game played). i feel like Mira would enjoy mining while Zoey would enjoy foraging as well as gaining hearts w all the NPCs. plus!! in co-op you can marry the other person you’re playing with 👀

tysm <33

LOVE GROWS (WHERE MY ROSEMARY GOES)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : mira, zoey, mystery

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : playing stardew valley with their farming sim obsessed s/o

𝐚/𝐧 : sorry i’ve been letting requests marinate for a lil bit guys. it’s been forever since i played stardew valley. i think last time i played was 2-3 years ago? anyway, i love this idea! please enjoy. :)

𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀

One factor you and your girlfriend loved in particular about Stardew was mining; finding gems and other valuable items was thrilling, but there was something about it that made you enjoy it even more. You loved monster slaying.

Many of the other games you played included monster slaying, like Dark Souls and The Witcher, but when you needed to wind down you liked to play a bit of Stardew Valley. Farming simulators were your favorite, while Mira always liked more intense games; hence why you both liked to play it. Certain people like certain aspects more than others, but who cares?

As your girlfriend grabbed a picaxe, you grabbed your sword. “We need to check our daily luck.” She advised, or more like stated. It was a no-brainer when it came to a good mining trip.

“On it.”

Quickly, you ran to your tv to put on the correct channel. Patiently, you waited for the dialogue to appear, sitting on the edge of your seat in anticipation. Then, finally. “Fortune teller says it’s good fortune today!” You cheered, immediately running out of your home and towards the mines.

“Perfect, let’s kick these monsters butts and get our loot!”

“Yeah!” You shouted as you threw a fist into the air, feeling pumped up by the energy your girlfriend was giving you. Her eyes widened, then her lips curled into a smirk. “Yeah!”

Then it became a game of who could scream louder and more excited:

“YEAH!”

“YEAHHHHH!!””

“YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Can you guys please quiet down?”

“Sorry, Bobby!”

───

𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐘

A heavy sigh was released from you as you gripped the joycons of your Switch, anxious for the future before you. This meant all or nothing, one would fall and one would rise. In your inventory were the right materials; goat cheese for your beloved sculptor, and crab cakes for your beloved writer. They were staring you right in your face, mocking you.

Now, one might say “Romance them both!”, why would you do that? Are you going to cheat on them at the same time? You’re going to have a love affair with both of them and then eventually break their hearts because it’s inevitable that you will get caught? Wow. Wow we wow.

While you could date more than one person in this game without consequence, the idea of actually doing it made the both of you feel awful. So, you decided you could only pick one. Finally, you spoke. “We must make a decision.”

“I agree.” Her voice wavered, just a bit. Enough for you to tell this was going to be harder than any other decision you’ve ever made.

For a beat, nothing was said. The weight of guilt rested upon your shoulders, dragging you and your girlfriend down along with it. It pained your soul, it felt like you were dying. “Leah or Elliot?” You whispered, staring intently at the amount of hearts each npc had.

Both had 9 hearts, each only needed one more interaction to bring it up to 10.

Zoey broke.

She laid her head on your shoulder, hiding the pained expression on her face. “I feel so guilty though, they’re both such good options!” She whined as she lightly punched you on the shoulder.

“Me too, but your Switch is dead right now so we have no other choice.” Breaking the news was heart wrenching, but it was the truth.

Abruptly, she grabbed both of your shoulders and began shaking you back and forth. “I can’t, [Name]! It’ll tear me apart!”

“I know, honey, I know,” a light grip was then given to both of her hands by your own. “We must get through this hardship; together.”

Her hand tightened around yours, a fierce look now in her eyes. “Right.”

This was it. You could do this.

The both of you go back and forth on who to pick for 3 more hours before taking a break and falling asleep on each other.

───

𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘

“Okay, we have the recipe. Now it’s time to craft the ring!”

Finally, after hours of going through the mines of Skull Cavern, you finally got it; the prismatic shard. The final item you needed to craft the ring required to propose in the game. This was the moment you had been waiting for. “Do we have what we need?” You asked, leaning over his shoulder to look at his screen.

“We should, we spent a lot of time mining yesterday,” He muttered, looking for the crafting recipe. You quickly responded. “Okay, let me check my inventory.”

“5 iridium bars and 1 prismatic shard?”

“Yes, perfect!”

“This is about to be the cutest wedding ever!” You cheered, throwing a fist in the air. Triumphant, it felt almost as good as winning a game of Monopoly.

You were adorable.

As you prepared to craft the ring, there was a silence that fell between you. Then, “I would prefer it if it was real.” He mumbled, playing with the ends of his arm warmers.

Slowly, you put your Switch down to look at him. A faint blush could be seen underneath his silver locks, threatening to get brighter. “That is the cutest thing you’ve ever said.” You whispered, then you pressed a kiss to his nose. “I love you so much.”

@𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐳𝐨𝐞𝐲 °❀.ೃ࿔ - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[heymelissachambers]

JUST SAW OPENING NIGHT OF TGWDLM! THOUGHTS (AND SPOILERS) UNDER THE CUT!

was confused about why emma's outfit was slightly different in the opening and then not at all for the rest of the show. then her last scene started with her in the opening outfit. and i was like ohhhhh i get it.

also!! jaime and mariah played charlotte and melissa for inevitable which made me SO happy

jeff's sam wig kept falling off near the end of you tied up my heart and ofc he couldn't pick it up bc he was supposed to be tied to a chair so he kept scooting toward it. jaime put it on his head and it fell off again. jeff (still supposed to be tied to the chair) reached out and put it back on and it fell off again. eventually jaime just flung the wig offstage and it was hilarious

jon shouted "that's too many!" during what do you want when mr. davidson was making the many-curved woman

lauren and will came on dressed as ruth and max for la dee dah dah day! everyone was so excited! also i don't remember if it was for this scene but corey was dressed as frank at one point and everyone lost it

joey was pete for the hot chocolate bit AND for cup of roasted/poisoned coffee! will was also there dressed in a pastel patterned button down talking to pete like they were friends (at one point they were fully pointing at paul dragging emma away from the counter)

the set was. SO COOL!!!! super detailed it was great. hidgens had a painted portrait of himself. 10/10

also the lights kept having a honeycomb pattern and it wasn't until halfway through act one that i was like OH SHIT. BC IT'S A HIVEMIND.

also. THEY HAD THE POKEY BOULDER AND IT WAS HUGE AND THE EYES AND MOUTH GLOWED BLUE IT WAS SO COOL

lots of fun with strobe lights!

part of the pre-show announcements included dan asking donna if he should sing and recite dialogue from the show and donna going "Absolutely Not!"

they were using the fuck outta those office chairs for choreography.

at one point mr. davidson was choking paul with his phone cord

instead of bill trying to talk to alice in between her verses for not your seed he was silent the whole time and at the very end alice and the other infected girls placed the shotgun in his hands which was CHILLING

during the bit where paul and emma go through the alleys emma was like "how do you know the streets this well?" and paul was like "uhh when i was a kid they called me alley cat" and emma went "what???" and paul was like "no no actually forget i said that"

curt and kim and dylan were all in the audience!

that's all for now, might be more i remember later! but alas i must sleep! what a great show!!

[pain-indeed]

A lot of people think Silent Salt will be some sort of dictator (with the idea of silencing other being alike to censorship and such), and some think he will silence people by killing them. That way, he would be able to preserve unity.

This point of wiew comes from the idea that solidarity means unity, and that because different opinions can challenge it, silencing them is best.

Those theories are interesting, but I have another idea about what it could mean other than that.

As you know, White Lily Cookie is a character that is mainly defined by her guilt, how she blames herself for Dark Enchantress's actions, as shown by the dialogue and story so far.

Thus, with the episode being focused on her and Silent Salt, I expect guilt and trauma to be core themes to beast yeast 11 and 12.

Then, if the idea of solidarity, silence and freedom is wiewed through this lens, it could take another meaning :

Solidarity does'nt refer much to the idea of unity as much as that of support.

I think freedom in this context means freedom from one's emotional burdens, specifically. This would mean that the story could revolve around White Lily and Silent Salt's respective trauma, with her actually getting help from those around her in the form of emotional support ( hence how freedom is connected to solidarity ), potentially realising that by seeing how ssc copes with his trauma ; in his case, I think the idea of silence will refer to suffering in silence and keeping all the pain for yourself to avoid burdening others.

In this case, he might hide his face to hide his own pain.

If Silent Salt was indeed the one who helped sealing away the other beasts, like some theories say, maybe he feels terrible about it. Even if he did not, I can imagine plenty of reasons for him to be mentally distraught. Perhaps he will be the first beast to show genuine remorse for his actions.

Either way I don't think we can rely too much on the pre existing formula of beast yeast episodes. Because White Lily has always been very different from the other ancients, and because its starting to get old. Or maybe not. But I still feel like something unexpected is awaiting us.

Anyways this is very rambly and disconnected but I could'nt keep it for myself. Can you tell how very normally excited I am for this character

[dialoguetrees]

Playing House: Man, Woman & Child in Il Mheg

*Spoilers; dialogue and screenshots from 5.0 and 6.0 below.*

On the surface Il Mheg is immediately appealing, awash in rainbows and flowers and inhabited by childlike beings. By being a land of magic and wonder, Il Mheg represents new opportunities and freedoms. But its eternal spring is also naivety and avoidance. These tensions play out as characters struggle with the patriarchal tropes of the domestic sphere.

DISCLAIMERS AND RECOMMENDATIONS: 1) This is best read alongside #crystevatower, jacob's exercise in a psychosexual reading of Shadowbringers and Endwalker. In order to keep the post coherent I have to re-tread a lot of things he's already talked about. 2) This analysis applies the lens of a transfeminine urianger, and if that raises your hackles, I ask that you bear with me.

In Il Mheg, all three characters (Thancred, Urianger, and Ryne) escape from something while they are there. The something is a little different for each of them. It is a refuge, but also from things they shouldn't be avoiding. The home the bookman's shelves provides grants needed relief and shelter, but the roles it confines them to also keeps them in stasis, pun intended.

Thancred (Father)

Though characters in MSQ keeps telling us that Thancred's problem is an inability to accept that Minfilia is gone, I don't think that's true. Thancred is instead struggling to resolve the role of patriarch and protector with so many historic failures; his own, Ran'jit's, and his guardians'.

Thancred: This isn't a matter of fate, Urianger. It's about choice. And I've had years to decide where I stand.  Thancred: Minfilia has spent too long in chains already. I would not shackle her again by making my hopes known. - 5.0 quest "On Track"

Thancred plainly hopes for Ryne to live. He is more aggrieved by the fact that if Ryne takes up Minfilia's legacy, she will have to fight the Lightwardens. He wants to put off the question of whether or not Ryne will take up that responsibility not because it means losing Minfilia, but because that responsibility killed the last girl who had it.

He understands that death as a failure of himself, a failure he is not willing to endure again or subject another young girl to, and he is paralyzed because there is no future ahead where Ryne does not die or take on grave personal danger.

Thancred was the one that connected Minfilia to Louisoix and the Scions, to The Mission, as his mentors did to him. He is perhaps reflecting that had he known what it would entail, he wouldn't have chosen this, and he wouldn't have wanted Minfilia to choose it either.

Thancred: It is for her to choose what shape her destiny will take. It is for me to stay silent. To protect her, teach her, and stand by her. That, at least, I can do for her. - ""

For all he speaks to his gratitude towards Louisoix and his Sharlayan master, the man he is belies it. This is a person deeply suspicious of and resentful to male authority, crystalized in the fight against Ran'jit where he overcomes those doubts in order to embrace a role as Ryne's father. He no longer sees Minfilia's life, and death, only as masculine failure, but as feminine victory. He sees a future for his daughter and embraces it, whatever may come.

But if that were enough, the story would simply end there. It doesn't, and it isn't.

Urianger (Mother)

Some people will have a defensive reaction to the idea of calling Urianger a mother, or a woman, in this context as homophobic or heteronormative. Whether or not you can suspend your disbelief and get on board with a transfeminine Urianger, I hope you can at least notice the tropes she is being subjected to and how she reacts to them.

Thancred and Ryne retreat to Il Mheg, and go to Urianger as a soft place to land. And she is that. The shelves seem an idyllic comfort compared to their life on the road pursued by Eulmore's soldiers. Ryne is excited to see her, and Urianger treats her warmly, calling her "my dear." There is real happiness and safety here, but also stagnation.

Urianger: I attempted to broach the subject before. Mine intention was to ensure no words remained unspoken between them[...] Alas, in the end he refused to heed my counsel - 5.0 Quest "Have a heart"

Regardless, the Urianger we meet in Il Mheg is euphoric, smiling, joking about her fair features. Compared to the ascetic, practical man Urianger claimed to be on the Source, the Urianger we meet is changed. Transformed, even. (We can even tell her "I almost didn't recognize you..." you're making it too easy, FFXIV!)

Urianger is neither ignorant of nor indifferent towards the problems in Thancred's and Ryne's relationship. She confronts Thancred, and reminds him of and encourages him to speak about the things he would rather avoid. Thancred will accept her hospitality, but he won't take her advice. Why not? And why does she tolerate this?

Urianger: A time will come when they must face the reality of their circumstances. But I have faith that all will be well in time... - ""

It's important to note that while Thancred fears men as guardians of children, he doesn't feel the same way towards women.

To Thancred, the presence of a woman, a mother, is what makes a home. If Urianger was a potential father to Ryne, Thancred would have regarded her with the same suspicion he carries for male parents. Instead, she takes on the role of F'lhaminn, representing "warmth and tranquillity."

Urianger's existence doesn't challenge Thancred's positions on patriarchs and fathers, because Urianger is not a father to Ryne, and not a man. And that is exactly why she accepts this role; it's her own refuge.

Urianger is getting to be a mom, for just a moment. Maybe not even a good one. Maybe one stuck within a passive role. But to be a mother is blessed relief compared to the role the Exarch has put her in, which hangs over her dreadfully. Urianger lights up when she addresses Ryne, and buckles over or crumbles to her knees when she confronts her deceptions. Being a mom has its limitations, but it is at least authentic to her and her desires. Like Thancred, she is using the domestic sphere in order to escape an identity anathema to her sense of self.

I hesitate to outright call Urianger an enabler, because she is boxed into place by various sexist/transphobic forces. Thancred's suspicions towards himself are why he's ignoring her, but it's the patriarchal nature of their arrangement that gives him the ability to do so.

Ryne (Child)

Ryne is 16, two years away from adulthood but still a child. She has spent the last three years of her life with these two parents, consistently if not continuously. They have both tried to allow her to be a "normal" girl, and she clearly feels attachment towards both of them regardless of their failings.

But she's not a normal girl. She has a destiny, one she's going into badly unprepared. 

What's naive about the Waters-Augurelt family in Il Mheg is not, I should be clear, its queerness or Urianger's womanhood or the safety of a home. Its an idealization of the nuclear family, particularly motherhood, as an escape from trauma. Ryne wants what anyone would want; for both her parents to be present, engaged, and connected with her. Patriarchal norms won't accomplish this; they are the very heart of everyone's trauma.

That Urianger's faith was rewarded in the end doesn't change the fact that if he had just listened to her outright, Ryne would have been saved years of sorrow. Thancred's opinions towards women as passive providers of safety and comfort are to blame, and that he has awakened to the personhood of daughters and sisters is not the same as feminist consciousness. (We see him nearly return to his womanizing habits during the Crystarium victory celebration, stopped by Urianger's nagging-- or so he claims.)

Ryne can't live out Thancred's idealized version of childhood; the home he never had and wishes to give her through Urianger is insufficient to answer the questions hanging over her. 

When Ryne says, "I wish he'd just say it─just say that he hates me! That he wishes I was dead so that she could return..." I don't think she really believes it. I think what she is trying to get Urianger to say is, no, no, of course not-- Thancred loves you, we both love you.

And while she deserves to hear it, what is valuable about Ryne is not just that she is loved by her parents, though she is. It's that she has value all her own, and in her own identity, a life lived beyond the hopes others have for her.

Urianger: Were she here, she would not suffer thee to languish in sorrow. She would tell thee to seek thine own path, thine own purpose. Urianger: It is a truth which I myself was slow to learn. Yet a truth it remaineth. - 5.0 quest, "Have a Heart"

While this wasn't what Ryne was hoping to hear, it is enough. The connection is felt, deeply.

Minfilia: I don't know about the world...but I never asked to be saved. Minfilia: However much it hurts, and however hard it gets, it's my life, and I want to live it on my own terms! Minfilia: And those “mad fools” you want me to abandon? The ones I've traveled with, fought with, and may one day die with─they feel the same. Minfilia: So no, I will not be deceived! No matter what you say, I refuse to believe it's all for nothing! Minfilia: They're everything to me. All I have and all I need. And I would gladly do anything for them. Minfilia: Let us pass, or kill me. I'm not leaving here without them.

Brides, Mothers

If Urianger's narrative ended with her passive victory, her faith rewarded, and her family gathered happily around her, then that would be straightforward praise of the family unit as they had arranged it. Instead, we complicate her domestic role by mirroring it, revealing her unhappy dealings as the Exarch's "Accomplice." (Y'shtola also calls this an "Infatuation," doubling the romantic associations.)

Y'shtola: Urianger─I know full well, after all these years, that you have only the best of intentions [...] But that does not make it any easier to put my faith in a man so infatuated with secrecy. - 5.0 Quest, "An Unwanted Proposal" < SEE!!!! SEE THAT QUEST NAME??? I'll calm down

Her relationship with G'raha is another unequal partnership, where Urianger carries out the commands given to her. It isn't until Endwalker that we fully understand just how painful Urianger found her obedient role.

Urianger: In her hour of need, I did naught. Dutiful disciple of Louisoix, ever looking to the greater good... Urianger: Had I shut mine eyes and bid her live instead, mayhap she would be with us today. Urianger: Selfish wants born of everlasting regrets. Most days I put them from my mind, but could think of naught else when asked to swallow the same bitter draught. Subterfuge and sacrifice. Mayhap the right, moral choice, but one I regard with great trepidation. - 6.0 Quest, "Back to Old Tricks"

When she says "dutiful disciple," it's bitterly, her hand clutched into a fist.

Far from completely passive and accepting, from infatuated, Urianger is unhappy to be merely selfless, merely dutiful, even as she is happy to be a woman. As Venat tells her, her heart never wavered; but it isn't Louisoix she is purely loyal to. Nor is it Thancred or the Exarch. Her greatest loyalty is to something higher.

Urianger: In truth, I can no more ignore the plight of this world than I can choose to stop breathing. And thus do I labor─for those we have lost. For those we can yet save. - 5.0 quest, "A visit to the Nu Mou"

Hydaelyn: For duty's sake, thou hast been bound by truths unutterable, time and time again. Yet thy heart hath never wavered, as thy companions will attest. - 6.0 quest, "Her Children, One and All"

She demands recompense from G'raha later at Ultima Thule, understanding that he incurred a debt with her, that her submission to his plans was not merely natural or to be taken for granted. G'raha, like the domestic sphere created in Il Mheg, was naive in his romantic notions, in the roles he gave Urianger (and others) to play.

Remember that line Urianger said? "She would tell thee to seek thine own path, thine own purpose... It is a truth which I myself was slow to learn. Yet a truth it remaineth." But when, exactly, did she learn it? When in SHB did she not walk the path given to her? Where did she stray, and why?

Rejecting narratives, no matter the comfort or permissions they may provide, help us to truly become our authentic selves and show up for those we care about; something Urianger has continued to advocate for in Dawntrail, and likely beyond.

[erwinsvow]

this was such an incredible read!!!!!!!!!! wow i seriously felt like i was watching the entire thing in my head like a movie. your writing is so descriptive and detailed and i can feel all their emotions through the words and just gaahhhh!!! would have killed for this plot in the show and in completely honesty it’s probably better than some of the show itself. i looooove the readers characterization opposite andrew being so stoic and quiet and seeing him break a little with her rambling is so cute!!!!!! the dialogue is so good and just funny and so perfect!!! i am so in love with this and so excited to read more!!!

Karma - Part 1

paring: andrew pope cody/stripper!reader tags: 18+, starts in s1, erectile dysfunction, lap-dances, second-hand embarrassment, slow burn, implied age gap, no use of y/n. reader has fake names, a large family, and a past (that is catching up). no smut for this part. wc: 7.5k an: this is basically my coping mechanism when rewatching animal kingdom and wanting pope to have a friend/get a happy ending. idk, this concept has probably been done before, but I'm having fun with it so...

summary: Who says you can't meet the love of your life in a strip club dressing room after his brother paid another girl a thousand bucks to wish him a happy birthday? Okay, so he's a bit strange and he might be stalking you and his mother is terrifying and you're really just trying to make enough money for rent and tuition without getting into any kind of trouble, but on the bright side, at least he's not a cop.

Karma - Part 1 - [AO3 LINK]

“…I’m not doing it, the guy creeps me out…”

A strip club was no place for privacy, and the dressing room even less so with half a dozen girls in various stages of undress crammed in at any given time. Some doing a costume change, some taking a snack break, and others sipping, smoking or snorting whatever they could to get enough of a buzz to make it bearable to go back outside. It reeked of hairspray, perfume and weed, with a heavy layer of face powder floating in the air like a built-in grain filter. One girl sat by the sink, blatantly touching up her bikini line, while another tried to pop a pimple on yet another girl’s butt cheek. There were no secrets in a strip club dressing room and it was probably the worst place for private conversations. 

Bless Jasmine’s heart, though, she was still trying. Speaking in hushed tones behind the heavy velvet curtain that separated the prep area from the bathrooms. There used to be a partition wall, but the manager never got around to replace it after some girls tore it down during a fight. At least that’s what Pepper told you when she gave you the tour of the backstage area a few weeks ago.

“…just call security and…”

“…bad business, his brother’s a regular and…”

You tried to focus on fixing your makeup — you weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but not even the muffled tunes from the stage could drown out the intense whispers from Jasmine and Trixie. What was Jasmine even doing in here? A statuesque sultry redhead, she was one of the more popular girls in the club. And one of the lucky few who had their own private dressing rooms.

“…do me a favor and…”

“No way. No! I can’t, I got one of my regulars coming in…”

The curtain tore aside, and you tore your gaze back to the mirror, staring at your own reflection like your life depended on it. You had only been here a few weeks and did not have the time or energy to make enemies, especially not now. Trixie, with a jet-black wig and already in her six-inch-heels, strode back to her spot that was next to yours and shook her head while Jasmine was close on her heel.

Jasmine clutched her short silk dressing gown with a white-knuckled fist. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Either give him the time of his life, give the money back,” Trixie suggested as she leaned towards the mirror to put on more plum lipstick, and Jasmine looked sick at the thought, “or find some other girl to do your dirty work.”

Still staring fixedly at yourself in the mirror, you almost missed how both their gazes fell to you. You did, however, catch the way Jasmine kissed her teeth and cocked her head to the side.

“Hey, new girl. Wanna make five hundred bucks?”

----

And that was how you found yourself here, trying to get your breath under control just outside the door to Jasmine’s dressing room. This was insane. This was literally insane. This wasn’t you. You didn’t do this. You weren’t like this. Okay, sure, that was what you had told yourself when you first started dancing, but with dancing, you still had boundaries. They could look, but not touch, and security had your back, and it was a far cry from flashing your tits at some sweaty business men to literally have sex for money.

And yet, you had accepted Jasmine’s offer. She had made it sound so easy.

“The guy’s just back from Pakistan or whatever and he looked pent up like crazy, so he’s probably a two pump chump at most. Easiest and fastest money you’ll ever make. Just remember to make him wear a condom, and it’ll be fine.”

And when you expressed your concerns about not knowing what to do, Trixie had chimed in with advice:

“You know when you give a private dance and have to swat their hands away a few times before they get the message? Yeah, just do that, but don’t swat his hands. It’ll be easy.”

Speaking of hands, you rubbed your clammy palms on the limited real estate of your outfit and wished you had covered up somehow. That you had borrowed Jasmine’s dressing gown to make some kind of slow and sensual reveal instead of waltzing inside dressed as a literal stripper. It felt tasteless somehow, as if being paid money to fuck someone was not.

“You can do this, you can do this, you can do this,” you muttered under your breath, trying to remember all the reasons you had agreed to this. You needed those five hundred bucks by tomorrow. It was the whole reason you had picked up an extra shift tonight, hoping you would get lucky and catch the eye of some high roller. The way the night was going though, you would be lucky to break even. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right? You just needed to get in there and get it over with and deal with the psychological fallout later. It was just sex. Everyone had sex. And lots of people had sex for money. Prostitution was the world’s oldest profession, wasn’t it? Besides, it was just this one time. You needed those five hundred dollars. 

The other way to get it by tomorrow was risky — too risky.

Before you could psych yourself out anymore, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath to get into your stage persona, and turned the door handle.

Not sure what to expect — the poor guy could be sitting in there buck naked for all you knew — you opened the door carefully and slipped inside. The loud music from the stage faded to nothing but the bass track when you clicked the lock shut behind you. You had never actually seen any of the private dressing rooms before — it was roughly the size of a shoebox, with two armchairs and a small table crammed in with a vanity and some lockers. Rows and rows of shiny tassels hung over the large makeup mirror and momentarily distracted you before your eyes fell on him. 

Him, who sat like a statue on the very edge of the seat of one of the worn-down armchairs. Him, who looked like a still-life painted by someone who had mastered the basics of anatomy, but not human behavior. Him, with short-cropped hair that looked glued to his scalp and a tight scowl on a slightly shiny face, his taut muscles stretching from his down-turned mouth all the way to his rigid collar-bones. 

“Who are you?” 

His voice caught you off guard. It had a strange lilt to it, like a grown man having minor flashbacks to puberty, teetering between raspy hard and soft every other syllable. You could not decide if he sounded angry or indifferent, and tried to give him a seducing smile to break the ice.

“I’m—”

“Where’s the other girl?”

He pulled on his words somewhat. You couldn’t say if he was blending the r’s or elongating the vowels or had a slight lisp, but it was not in a drunken slur, more as a last remnant of a speech impediment. His lip lifted in something between confusion and contempt and you swallowed, doing your best to avoid flinching at his harsh question. Shit, you knew he would ask that and had even expressed your concerns to Jasmine. She had just waved her hand dismissively and said he would not care which pussy he got as long as he got pussy.

Except he looked very much like he cared. He still sat in that fixed position, back straight, and his knees spread with a hand perched on each one. Not resting, not even remotely close to resting, and not moving anything else than his head and neck as he talked. 

“She had to go,” you mumbled and licked your lips, tasting the dryness of your lipstick. “I’m—”

“Go where?”

Again, his question seemed almost juvenile in nature. Like a child that had yet to learn the social cues of communication. Demanding attention and answers at whim, and disregarding the dynamic nature of a dialogue. Or maybe actively disregarding it, treating it more like an interrogation than a conversation. Like a cop?

“I don’t know,” you mumbled again, but this time you hurried to continue before he could bark another question. “Something about a family emergency.”

The guy closed his mouth that had been halfway open in question and slunk back a fraction, skepticism written all over his face. His scowl did not clear at all, and you noticed the way he flexed his fists still settled on his knees. It was becoming obvious why Jasmine had backed out. You had expected some greasy drunkard who had just gotten his tax returns and wanted to splurge on something nice. Not this ticking time bomb whose body language screamed that this was the last place he wanted to be.

Yet, here he was, and he looked both old and capable enough to leave if he so desired. So you just had to assume that he still wanted to get his money’s worth and get on with it.

The brief silence helped ease you back into character and you dropped your voice to a lower octave. “I’m here to take care of you instead.” 

The glare he sent you should have sent you running for the hills. Only his eyes moved, staring up at you from beneath his dark brows, and you did not feel naked as much as literally exposed. The very definition of the word. Uncovered, unconcealed, and unprotected. Sure, you wore a skimpy outfit that did not leave all that much to the imagination, but you could have worn a whole-ass duffle coat and it would not have made a lick of difference.

“How ‘bout some music?” you suggested, mostly because it gave you an excuse to turn away from him. To give yourself a small break from the intensity of his undivided attention. You sauntered over to the vanity to find the music box Jasmine had told you about and caught sight of your own reflection. There you were, in your tall heels and revealing costume. With the heavy makeup and clip-in extensions, you looked really frickin’ hot and, most importantly, you did not look like yourself. Because this wasn’t you, was it? This was your alter-ego that spent the nights showing her body off to strangers and she could do absolutely anything she wanted. Including this.

You needed this money.

With that fresh boost of courage, you hit ‘play’ on the device and the room filled with the slow sensual beat that was Jasmine in musical form, perfect for a lap dance. Which was no big deal, you thought, and started moving your hips to the rhythm. You’d done plenty of private dances. No big deal at all.

Just keep telling yourself that, you told yourself as you ran your hands over your curves and tried to imagine being on the stage. You hit the dimmer by the door as you made your way back to the guy, hoping the increased darkness would help both of you loosen up. 

The guy did not appear to have moved a single muscle in your absence. He sat so rigid it looked physically painful and you unwittingly tried to keep your touch feather-light as you placed your finger-tips on his shoulder in case you hurt him somehow. In his defence, he did not flinch at your touch, but it was like he made a very conscious effort not to flinch. Only his head moved, twisting on his neck like a cobra to stare at your hand where it laid on the very edge of his shoulder, hardly the most conspicuous location given the theme of the night.

Holy shit, this guy was hot. Yeah, you’d obviously noticed the way his biceps and pecs filled out his shirt, but you were not prepared for the way his skin burned. You could feel it almost simmering underneath his nondescript black t-shirt as you did a walk-around. Trailing your fingertips from his shoulder and to his back, spreading your hands out over his traps like you were giving him a massage, but not daring to apply any pressure. The muscles flexed and bucked beneath your hand anyway, while the freckles on his bare arms danced in tune.

“Relax,” you murmured from behind him, running your palms over his rigid back, like a horse-whisperer trying to calm an irrate mustang. “I’m only here to make you feel good.”

No answer, not that you had expected one, and you went ahead with the dancing. There was an art to it, as you had learned when you started working. Especially the private dances. Giving an illusion of intimacy, flaunting and teasing, making the client think there was going to be more than just fun and fantasy. You knew other girls sometimes did stuff during the private dances, but you had always abided by the club rules and maintained the no-touch-policy from the stage. Some guys tried, obviously, but quickly subsided when it became clear it was either just a dance or nothing. 

Except now it was supposed to be everything.

Remembering Trixie’s advice, you kept dancing like normal and made your way to stand between the guy’s spread knees. You writhed and twisted to the beat that filled the whole room and ran your hands over yourself in lieu of burning yourselftrying to touch him, however platonically. Normally, you would maintain eye contact as much as possible, reeling in your catch slowly, but this guy was too intense, and you let your eyes close instead. You dragged your fingers through your fake hair, down your throat and over the swell of your breasts. Not stopping there, but going further down, caressing your stomach and hips, dipping to your thighs before going back up. 

You bit your lip, losing yourself in the music, feeling sexy as hell. Your heart beat along with the bass and your skin prickled with the energy rush you always got at this point. Muscle-memory took over and before you knew it, you were popping the clasps open on your top, one by one. You kept it in place with your hands, squeezing your breasts together teasingly, knowing that the reveal mattered more than the prize. 

Of course, that was when you made the mistake of looking at his face. He still had not fucking moved at all! Seriously, he was still staring at you from beneath his brows like you had pissed in his beer instead of giving him a lap dance.

The intensity of his expression had you spin around again instead of taking off your top. At this rate, it would be the slowest five hundred bucks you would ever earn. And you still had to earn it, you reminded yourself as you absentmindedly wiggled your ass in front of him. What was this guy’s problem? Nerves? Too drunk to function? Not drunk enough?

You forced yourself to take a step back — it was easier when you didn’t have to look at his face — and pushed yourself into him. Still dancing, you bent your knees and spread your legs until your head was closer to his and gave him a sultry look over your shoulder. “Can I get you anything? A beer or…” 

Something stronger? Jasmine definitely had something in here somewhere, and she could definitely spare some to help this poor guy get his money’s worth. Anything to help him relax.

“No.”

The word came out hard and decisive, travelling from his chest into yours, and it would take all the relaxants in the world to make you argue with him. 

“Okay,” you said softly and licked your lips again. The silence and his rigidity ate away at your nerves and you found yourself talking while you ground your ass closer and closer to his crotch. Just waiting for him to put his hands on you so you could take things further. “So, what’s the occasion? You just get back from a tour?”

Jasmine had said Pakistan, and while you assumed she meant Afghanistan, you did not want to be wrong in front of this guy. Maybe that was his deal? PTSD or something? The guy had soldier written all over him.

“No,” the guy repeated in the same flat tone that bordered on angry. Again, he did not flinch as you threw your arms up and back around his neck, but you felt the way he swallowed hard. “It’s my birthday.”

“Well, happy birthday,” you practically purred, relieved at the semblance of a normal conversation. You twisted your hips side to side, feeling the harsh denim of his jeans dig into your lower buttocks, almost searching for a tell-tale hardness that would give you an entry point to finish this. 

“And I just got out of prison.”

If this had been a movie, the music would have scratched and halted. It didn’t — it kept on playing as before — but you couldn’t help the way you froze on the spot, stuck in the awkward position. Your back pressed against his hard chest, your ass digging into his crotch, and your arms still looped around his neck. 

“Oh,” you said, like a complete idiot, but could not will yourself to move. Every alarm bell was going off at the same time and you resisted the urge to downright bolt out of there. “What-what did you do?”

The silence dragged on way longer than it should have, and your legs shook with the effort of staying still.

“Robbed a bank.” 

“Oh.” Your knees finally gave in to the strain and you plopped down in his lap, perching on him like he again perched on the chair. “Oh, that’s good.”

“That’s good?”

You did not see his incredulous look, but you sure as hell felt it.

“I mean, not good that you robbed a bank or went to prison for it,” you had no way of stopping the freight train of your blabbing, “but robbing a bank’s not that bad. It’s a pretty straightforward crime, when you think about it. Nothing to worry about.”

Somehow, your body began to move again. Completely on its own, though. Full on autopilot, just like your mouth was.

“There’s not a lot of analysis needed to why someone robs a bank. Don’t need a whole profile or anything. You rob a bank, it’s just about money.”

His voice rumbled close to your ear and in your chest. “Then what’s a non-straightforward crime?”

“You know, something a bit more complicated in terms of motive. Like, say,” you grimaced, wondering why you could not just shut up, “killing prostitutes or something.” 

That earned you a low amused snort, and he sounded a bit more relaxed when he said, “Yeah, not really my thing.”

“Good to know.”

The hint of humanity he displayed flooded you with relief. So much that it made you dizzy and stupidly brave again. You turned around to face him, your barely restrained tits practically up his nose, and he instinctively leaned back to give you room. Which you used to throw your leg over his lap and your arms over his shoulders, straddling him with your knees on either side of him in the armchair. 

The close proximity sent his warm breath over your face, but you were too close to get a good look at his expression. Which was fine by you and you gently swayed with the music, noting how his hands fell to the side, still not making any effort to touch you. 

Conversation had loosened him up slightly last time, so you kept going. “How long were you inside?”

“Three years.” He did not shy away from eye contact, but his jaw rolled when you leaned in toward his face. “And nineteen days.”

No wonder he was so tense. Again, he did not flinch when you brushed your lips against his cheek, hoping against hope that you could make him warm up. You placed small, almost platonic pecks along his jaw, a glaring invitation for him to kiss you if he wanted — he just needed to turn his head a fraction — but of course nothing happened.

“Three years is a long time,” you murmured into the shell of his ear. It was a long time and you would have thought he would at least be a little bit hard by the way you were practically riding him over his clothes. “But I thought armed robberies gave you six. You out on parole?”

“Who said I was armed?”

His voice grated on your insides, the husky and deep texture pushing some hitherto unknown buttons. You pressed yourself even closer to him, drowning yourself in his heat to escape your own nerves. He smelled nice, you idly thought. Clean. 

“Unarmed are two.” 

“Why do you know that?”

You sensed more than saw his surprise and shrugged. “Half my cousins are either inside now or have been at some point.”

“Yeah? What for?”

“Stupid shit..” You kept riding his lap, hoping to elicit some kind of response, feeling stupider by the second. “Drug charges most of them. Petty theft. Couple of assaults.” Why the hell were you talking about your cousins’ prison sentences right now? You stopped moving mid-ride and used his neck as leverage to keep you aloft so you could look at him. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrow twitched as he shrugged. “Go ahead.”

“Is this, uh, doing anything for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“The dancing,” you clarified and waved your hand at the space between you, “and the, uh, dry humping. I can switch it up if you want; try something else? Or is it me that’s not doing it for you?”

His scowl seemed to have deepened during your questions, but there was a flicker of uncertainty somewhere on his face. “It’s not you. I can’t remember the last time I had an erection.”

“Oh.” You were not winning any awards for eloquence tonight and you gently lowered back down into his lap. Again, you tried to stay in character. “I can fix that.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” you asked, absentmindedly noting how rigid his neck was under your hand. He was so blunt you had no ideahow to continue, except in the worst possible way. “Are you on medication or something?”

Wrong question, wrong question, wrooooong question.

“No.” His nostrils flared. “I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

Internally, you screamed at yourself. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with you? Yeah, sure, insinuate to the seemingly mentally unstable ex-con that he should be on medication, that’s gonna go down well.

“I’m sorry, we just recently did a class on this. Common side-effects of prescription and over-the-counter drugs. It was stuck in my head. I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Class?” His face had an almost feline quality to it and he looked like a disgruntled alley cat when his lip lifted in confusion. “What class?”

“I am,” still in his lap, which was a really awkward way to conduct a conversation, “taking classes to get my nursing associate degree. And then I will take the NCLEX exam to become a registered nurse.”

You added the NCLEX part to give some weight to the fact that you were actually studying to be a nurse and you hadactually covered some of this in class. 

“Which is why I’m here,” you continued, because the way he stared at you made your insides tighten weirdly, “trying to earn money for the tuition.”

“Tuition,” he repeated as if tasting the word. 

“Yeah, like a school fee—”

“I know what it is. How much do you need?”

The guy really did ask questions like a kid. Or a cop. No nuance, no filler conversation, just blunt and straight to the point. 

“Uh, well, with books and equipment,” you still sat in his lap, holding on to his neck, not sure how to proceed, “it’s roughly ten thousand dollars.”

The guy tilted his head in recognition before he looked at you again, this time more amused than angry. He sounded almost condescending when he said, “There are lot easier ways to earn ten grand. Faster too.”

Riskier too.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’d make a good bank robber.” 

You expected a smile, but he just shrugged, as if to say ‘you never know’ and remained silent.

“You want me to,” you gestured at your awkward position, “keep going? Or should we try something else? I can turn the lights off all the way, if you want. Or on, maybe? Should I touch you or do you wanna touch me or I can get a wig or… I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before. Give me some pointers here, man.”

The hurried admission came without your intention, and you could not exactly blame him for not getting immediately turned on from your clumsy attempts at seduction. 

He snorted again, and his lips twisted into something resembling a bitter smile. “Bet all the guys love hearing you say that.”

“Say what?”

“That you’ve never done this before.”

“I-I wouldn’t know,” you stuttered and practically felt how the power dynamic between you shifted. Before this, you had been in control, somewhat, living vicariously as your stripper persona. But somehow you had brought the real you into this. The girl who took night classes and dreamed of becoming a nurse. And you were still in the lap of a literal ex-con somewhere between ten and fifteen years your senior with obvious worldly experience, despite his awkward way of conversing. “I really haven’t done this before.”

“Then why are you doing it now?”

You could not wrap your head around the way he asked you stuff. It was not a hostile question, just genuine curiosity wrapped up in a gruff tone and incredulity.

“Well, Jasmine said she would give me five hundred bucks and I really need the money, so…”

Feeling idiotic, you made a move to get off him, but jolted at the sudden heat coming from him gripping your waist. The first time he had touched you since you came in here. It stopped your disembark, and you felt more like a deer caught in the headlights than ever before as he made a point to stare into your eyes.

“My brother paid her a thousand bucks. You’re getting ripped off.”

He held your stare for a second longer to drive in his point and then removed his hand. Stuck at processing that information, you remained in place. 

“So not only am I a whore, I’m a cheap one too, is that what you’re trying to say? Sorry, that was a bad joke,” you hurried to add when his face twisted into a deeper scowl again. “In my defence, I really haven’t done this before, so I wouldn’t exactly know the ratio of pay between pimp and prostitute. Maybe fifty-fifty is fair.”

“Why? You’re doing all the work,” the guy pointed out slowly.

“I’m not really doing anything right now, am I?”

“You’re talking to me.”

“That’s usually on the house.”

The guy did a half-shrug, but said nothing. 

“Sooooo, your brother paid for this, huh? Makes sense. Can I ask,” you spoke slowly, trying to find the right words, “if this was a birthday gift you actually wanted or one that was… forced upon you, so to speak?” No reply, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Am I forcing myself upon you, is what I’m trying to ask? Do you want me to…” You gestured again to where you sat, not really sure which direction you wanted to indicate, and he still said nothing. “Yeah, you know what, I’m just gonna—”

Making up your mind, you pushed off his lap and stood up, which of course caused your already loosened top to finally fall off. At this point, you had practically tried to screwdrive yourself into his crotch, so having your tits out in the open didn’t really bother you that much except for the way he reacted.

If possible, he froze, somehow solidifying even more from his already unmoving position. Nothing moved except his eyes that dragged down towards your exposed chest and you could feel the way your nipples tightened at the newfound attention. Unwavering attention, to be honest, and a rush of excitement spread to your core. Maybe there was still room to salvage this? Make it a good experience for him? The music still rolled in the background of your darkened room and you tried to get your breathing under control again where you stood between his spread knees.

“You know, you can touch me if you want,” you said softly, but refrained from touching him this time. His eyes flickered up to your face for a second, before focusing further south. “I’m yours tonight.”

You practically held your breath, waiting for a reply. Or a reaction. Anything, really, that would help you navigate this situation. And part of you cheered when he raised his hand. Slowly, tentatively, but still deliberately reaching up to run his fingers down the side of your breast. You had to fight to remain still, especially with the scorching heat emitted from his fingertips, but at least this was known territory.

The guy caressed the soft flesh of your breast, grazed his fingertips along your straining nipple and—

And then dropped his hand down and proceeded to glare holes somewhere that was neither your face nor chest. Did he look redder than before? Embarrassed? Embarrassed men usually turned angry, but this guy’d been angry from the get-goso you had no idea what to do here.

“Okay,” you said, as if telling him it was okay. “Not the reaction my tits usually get, but okay.” You ignored the way your skin buzzed from the brief contact and picked up your top to pull it back on. Taking your time with the buttons, you tried to keep your voice light. “We don’t have to do anything, you know? I’ll get you your money back.”

“Keep it.” At least he did not sound angrier than before and his eyes eventually found your face again. “For your tuition.”

It was a truce of some sorts, but it definitely marked the end of anything even remotely sexual.

“This is for rent, actually.” 

You kept your tone conversational, almost desperate to not make a big deal of this, to make him feel okay about it, to make this weird tension between you disappear. You walked normally — as normally as you could in these heels — over to the vanity to turn down the music. You also picked up a couple of beers from the small fridge by the door and handed him one that he gave a moment’s consideration before opening. 

“My roommate split yesterday, leaving me alone with the rent that is due tomorrow. Or, really, it was due today, but I jumped out of the window so the landlord couldn’t corner me in the hall and harass me about it.”

The guy took a sip of beer, clutching the bottle like a robotic claw. “Shitty roommate.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you muttered darkly and plopped down on the other armchair. “Before she left, she decided to wreck the place and steal anything remotely valuable. Cleared out my whole stash too, everything I’d already saved up.”

The guy tilted his head and gave you another glare. “Then you should’ve hidden it better.”

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the lack of sympathy for your situation. Then again, he did not exactly seem to be the coddling type. “Yeah, that’s on me, I guess. What can I say, I’m an optimist. I like to believe most people are decent human beings.”

He considered this. “They’re not.”

“They can be,” you countered and leaned back in the chair, adopting an unladylike position while he kept his back and legs perpendicular to the floor. Now that the tension was gone, you ventured to study him further. The freckles, the lines to his face, the sharp angle of his jaw and the solid muscle under his t-shirt. Probably not much taller than you — and definitely not taller than you in these heels — but he struck you as the kind of guy who didn’t need size to be intimidating. 

“Got your hair cut in prison?” you found yourself asking before you could think it through. Anything to keep the conversation flowing instead of the awkward silence. “My cousins all rocked the same ‘do when they got out.”

“Yeah,” he said, dragging the word out, and then rubbed a hand over the goofy buzz-cut. “It’s shitty, I know. I’m growing it out.”

His voice still fluctuated between hard and soft, almost reminding you of chain smokers who had to force their words out through strained vocal chords. Maybe he was forcing the words out. It would fit with how tense he was otherwise.

“What’s your name?” he suddenly asked, while tilting his head slightly down to stare up at you. Like a lion exposing his throat to indicate friendliness. 

“Karma,” you said.

Something twitched on his lips, reminiscent of a smile, but not really. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s my name in here,” you countered with a shrug, referencing the club. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew,” Andrew said without hesitation, giving the room at large his attention. “But people call me Pope.”

“Pope?”

“Mhm.”

“Why? Alright, alright, just asking.” You held your hands up as defence against the look he gave you that showed he would not be answering that question. “So, listen, do yo—”

“Are you gonna be able to go back to school?” Pope cut you off, and the genuine interest of his question momentarily stunned you. “Pay your tuition?”

“Uh. Sure, I guess.” You shifted when his stare did not relent, apparently not satisfied with that answer. “Well, I tried to do the math and lucky me, I’d already paid the advanced deposit so I’m only out five grand. If I pick up a couple more of the week night shifts here — the cash flow isn’t as hot as the weekends, but the house fee and tip-outs are lower so it evens out — and put in a few more hours for my day job and find a new roommate by the end of the month, I should in theory manage to pull through before the semester starts.” 

You grimaced at the thought of working away the whole summer instead of experiencing anything this city had to offer.

“In theory, except that I need at least seven hundred by tomorrow to cover the whole rent and it’s been sort of a slow night before this, so I might have to hide from my landlord one more day.”

“Or you can get the full grand from your,” Pope gave you a pointed look, “friend.”

“I doubt Jasmine’s gonna be happy about that.”

“Fight her for it.”

“Uh, no. One, I’m ninety percent sure Jas is banging the manager, so she can get me kicked out of the club. Two, I’m not up to speed on my tetanus shots, and she looks like she’s a biter.”

Pope snorted, and you smiled, happy that you managed to amuse him. “Then how are you going to pay rent?”

“Go out there and shake my ass, I guess. Unless you have any last-minute tips for robbing a bank?”

“Yeah, I do,” Pope said without hesitation. “Don’t get caught.”

You laughed, only vaguely noticing how he didn’t. “That’s great advice. Thanks, I never would have thought about that. Guess I should find a bank robbing mentor who didn’t end up in prison, huh?”

Pope shrugged. “I only got caught once.”

The instinct to laugh died in your throat this time. Was he joking? His posture and tone remained the same, and he was meeting your eyes evenly. Almost daring you to call his bluff — or lack thereof. You just blinked at him and took a hasty sip of beer to hide your confusion. 

“We’re finished here,” Pope eventually said. It was not a question, and he rose from the chair in a fluid motion. You had been right, he wasn’t particularly tall, but he carried himself taller somehow. “I should go.”

“Yeah, we’ve been in here a while,” you agreed from your spot in the armchair. “Any longer and your brother’s probably gonna think I’ve roofied you and taken off with the cash.”

Pope’s eyes flickered to his beer bottle.

“Oh my gosh, I haven’t!” You stumbled over your words to get them out as fast as possible. “No, no, just another bad joke, sorry.”

“How much do you make?” Pope asked, yet again giving you whiplash with the sudden turns in the conversation. “Per night.”

“Depends on the night. Usually I’ll clear around three hundred bucks for a regular shift. Maybe twice that on the weekends, but I don’t like weekends all that much. The crowd’s bigger, but so’s the competition. Tonight’s a slow night, though. Maybe a hundred, hundred-fifty.”

Pope nodded as if he was processing this information as part of a bigger picture. “Three hundred a night. Does that go for all the girls?”

“Well, uh… I’m a relatively popular dancer on my shifts,” you admitted slowly, almost to remind yourself that you were pretty hot even if you hadn’t managed to arouse Pope, “so I probably earn above average for dancing alone. But there’s a lot of girls who’s got regulars that spend a lot on them, and then there’s a lot of girls who’s extra… service-oriented and they earn more, obviously. And again, weekends are usually way better.”

Pope nodded again. “How much is the house fees?”

“It’s not that bad here. Flat fees are twenty bucks for a weeknight, fifty for a weekend. Then there’s a five-dollar charge for private dances, ten if it’s busy. And we gotta tip a percentage of our earnings to the DJ and security.”

“How many girls?”

“Anywhere from ten to fifty. Event nights, after big games and stuff, are the busiest. And most profitable. Managers usually raise the house fees to at least two-hundred and you’re lucky to get a spot on the poles without having to fight your way there. Private dances go from five to fifty a pop.”

Pope seemed to consider this. “That’s a lot of cash flowing around.”

“I guess,” you said and shrugged again. “This place does okay, but the real money’s made in the cities where all the finance bros go to blow their stock earnings. The gentleman’s clubs and stuff. I used to work there before, didn’t have to worry that much about rent then, I’ll tell you that.”

“Then why leave?”

You drank more beer, suddenly realizing you had over shared way more information than you had intended. Risky, risky, risky. “It just didn’t work out, that’s all.”

That vague answer seemed to satisfy him, and he placed the bottle of beer on the table. Right next to the unopened pack of condoms. So much for your grand debut as a prostitute, you thought idly and had another sip of your own beer. Then again, some girls got killed after their grand debut, so this wasn’t that bad, really.

The rustling of paper made you look up, and you realized Pope had his wallet out. He flicked through a large wad of bills and pulled out a hefty stack, offering them to you.

“No,” you said on principle, because that looked to be at least a thousand bucks.

“No!”

“Take it,” Pope rasped, but more impatient than angry. “Consider it a bonus.”

You made no motion to accept the money. “For what? We didn’t even do anything.”

Pope looked unbothered. “For a nice conversation.” Again, there was nothing to indicate he was making a joke and you could do nothing but stare at him. “This’ll help you cover the rent and give you a head start for your tuition stuff.”

“And what do I owe you in return?”

“Nothing.”

“Free cash, huh? Yeah, right. Thanks, but I don’t need your money.”

“Yeah,” Pope looked puzzled as he glanced at the room like you had forgotten what had started all of this, “you do. Take it.” His eyebrows rose and his whole face had smoothed out from any frowning, immediately taking years off his appearance. “Go on.”

Brows furrowed, you hesitantly reached out, almost expecting it to be some sort of test. Like he would yank back his hand at the last moment, having confirmed your greed and ingratitude, and would now beat the living shit out of you as payback.

Of course, nothing happened. You took the money and Pope put his wallet back in his pocket.

“Hang on, I gotta walk you out,” you suddenly remembered and rose from your chair before he could leave. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked if security finds you wandering back here on your own. Do you want me to play it up when we go out there?”

“Play what up?”

“Like,” you had a full inch on him in your heels but felt a foot shorter with the way he looked at you, “pretend that we did more than we did, you know? Make your brother think you rocked my world? I can mess up my hair and make-up or something.”

“I don’t care what my brothers think.”

With that, he unlocked the dressing room door and pushed it open, leaving a gap for you to follow. The loud music and smell of beer and perfume hit you full on and sent you right back into character. 

You planted a satisfied smile on your face and hurried to grab onto his hand before he could march off. Leaning into him — he was still running hot as hell — you half-whispered, “I kinda have to play it up anyway, sorry.”

At least he did not push you off, but let you lead him back to the general club area where you paused. Feeling other men’s eyes on you both, you made a show of dropping your hip on one side and twirling the extensions that fell over your shoulder. One table with several guys and plenty of girls seemed particularly interested in watching you and you figured that might be his brothers, even if none of them looked anything like him.

“Thank you for your service, soldier,” you said in your best seductive tone. You had no plans of trying your hand at anything more than dancing tonight, but it never hurt to maintain the illusion. Men could spend a lot of money lost in that illusion. Tottering on your heels, you bent towards him to give him a slow kiss on the cheek and took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Pope. And happy birthday.”

You winked at him, not even bothered by his apparent indifference at your efforts, and sashayed your way to the bar where you had spotted Jasmine. 

“Any trouble?” she asked as you leaned back against the bar top and signaled Henry for some water. She sent Pope’s back a wary look where he was walking resolutely towards the table with his brothers. Oh yeah, that guy had definitely been to prison, you thought. He had that walk and everything. 

You watched as his brothers — four of them? — laughed and patted his back in typical guy-fashion when he returned and how his body language looked as rigid and uncomfortable with them as it had with you. Small comfort, at least.

“No trouble,” you said with a smile and held your hand out to Jasmine, who grimaced and reached down into her garter belt for the money. “I’ll let it slide this time since we agreed on five hundred, but don’t try to screw me over like that again. Save the hustling for the Johns, okay?”

A venomous frown marred Jasmine’s porcelain features, but she did not have time to reply before the club manager sidled over.

“Hey, Karma, the south pole’s free the next song. You up for it?”

Even with Pope’s so-called ‘bonus’, you still had some ways to go before you were covered for the semester. So you finished your water and smiled. “Sure.”

“Break a leg,” Jasmine called after you, but you did not pay her any attention.

“And here’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” the DJ announced over the music as you trailed your heels over the podium and caressed the pole like a long lost lover, noticing how Pope was not at his table anymore, “she goes around and comes around. Please give it up for… Karma!” ------ I admit, I posted this because I need to connect more with other Pope-girlies. Come scream with me in my inbox. Please.

Other than that, if you like my writing and want to see more? Reblogs and comments make me write faster 💕  Thank you!

[nexility-sims]

more attention for blanca when

[2isted-chocol8-art]

Thanks, Spinel. I'm sure that helped.

I'm really excited to post this small collaboration @tippertot and I are working on! If this comic has excellent dialogue and amazing writing it's thanks to her ♡

This comic is set in my Out Of The Loop AU. Yup, all the previous comics happened right before this one. But now instead of cuddles, Hatchy is getting some ugly feelings. Woops.

-> Next ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[eggwishing]

jasprose doing the dreamworks face is making me sick

[quinn-pop]

mtdd week day 5 - au

idol au moment yayyy. they have history

[old-skyguy]

Look.

Ace Attorney fandom.

I know why people don't like Turnabout Bigtop. I am among the people who dislike Turnabout Bigtop.

But I GET why people like the case. I'm not going to be one of those annoying people who just blindly dump on it because I hate those mfs too.

Thing about Bigtop isn't that it sucks. Thing isn't the weird grooming stuff (though that is a huge part of it). It's not that it could've been good.

It's that - in my personal OPINION - it could have been *great*.

I think it had the potential to be one of the best third cases in the trilogy. It had everything; a fun and goofy setting fit for a pretty dang goofy lawyer game - where the environment itself had jokes and quips and one-liners and mishaps and tomfoolery written all over it, it had the previous case introducing a very interesting and important plotline that gave background for one of the more well-loved characters while also introducing an equally fucked up and lovable new one who was a child forced into a shit childhood of naivete in a CIRCUS with another character who was very naive and childish - whose interactions could have been funny and cute and reflective of said shit from the previous case (seriously she becomes such an important character in the 4th case, WHY would they not include her in this one for some character development? How did they fuck up letting a CHILD explore a CIRCUS?? That would have made the interactions flow MUCH better).

They had a pretty good, sympathetic killer imo, a morally dubious victim, an asshole of a client (who was pretty flat admittedly in-game, but I like his weird, topsy-turvy reasoning for it in the anime. Also, I think Max being kinda a dick would have bode well for the themes of Farewell since most of his clients up to this point have been like...nice? Not nice, but sympathetic, but him having to defend someone who's innocent but a prick would have shown him that just because someone is an asshole, doesn't mean they deserve to suffer for it and that they have the potential to grow as people, which is almost a complete foil to what Matt was. Ultimately, I would have loved the contrast of them as clients and I think it would have also served as character development for Phoenix, especially with his low-empathy tendencies).

They just didn't think that far ahead. They just didn't execute it well enough. They just decided to make three of the adult characters fight for the hand in marriage of a teenage girl. (Bat's part of the story was actually kinda good if he was just YOUNGER, I think him doing that for Regina would have been a stupid thing someone in the circus would do to impress their crush. Damn you Ace Attorney and your weird treatment of underage girls!!)

It just flopped and that's ok.

Even though it kinda sucked, it can still mean something to me.

Also I'm a Moe Curls apologist. I liked him, shut up.

[not-equippedforthis]

giving arthur one (1) iota of happiness before his life comes almost comically crashing down

[seleneprince]

Based on this

The Crow

It dawns on her there. She's going to die in the Hewn City. They left her there to rot away, alone and miserable, like the other miserable souls around her. Dark shells of beings that can't even be called people anymore.

No one would look for her here. She knows. They've been looking for excuses to get rid of her for ages. They'll be relieved with this.

"She was a wretch, got what she deserved", she can hear them say, as they complain and celebrate over cups of expensive wine—the same wine she was shamed for drinking.

A wave of pure, unbridled rage rises inside her. She feels the familiar burn itching beneath her skin, threatening to spill out and destroy everything. And a part of her wants to let it happen.

She has never lost control like that. Her weapons have always been her words and the poisonous barbs she cast with them. It’s a part of her, of who she is, as much as she hates it. But this fire—this cold inferno that has been boiling within her since she emerged from the Cauldron—she refuses to acknowledge. Ever since, she has keep it contained in the deepest corners of her being, pushing it back whenever it arises. The pain and exhaustion she gets from it are worth it just for the satisfaction of proving herself stronger than the magic.

Until now.

She finds herself struggling to keep her flames at bay. She senses how they're whisper away to break out of her body, to roam free and rampant along with her angerbetrayalsorrowguilt. That voice in her head that always urges her to let go grows louder than ever, and she tries, she really does, but she's so tempted now. So eager. She's tired and hungry and so, so mad at everything. At everyone. She has done it all and it still wasn't enough for them. They've dumped her like a pile of trash to a place where they keep the worst people in the world locked up.

Its what they've always thought of her, right? Something rotten and worthless to be locked away for eternity, so it doesn't corrupt others?

Cold sparks jump between her fingers. She recognizes them. They grow bigger and she doesn't stop it, because why should she. What's the point. It's not fair. Notfairnotfairnotfair...

"There you are, my love," a smooth voice murmurs behind, breath brushing against her ear, "You got me looking everywhere for you."

Nesta is pulled back to reality as strong arms surround her, one secured around her waist and the other on her shoulders. Her back meets a broad, warm chest, and she stiffens as her brain gets a hold of the situation.

When she does, she fights against his hold with all her might, but he hugs her tighter, and his lips move against her ear.

"There's a group of males following you since you stepped out. Play along until they leave."

She freezes. The male moves back and Nesta feels him turning back a little, still shielding her.

"Thank you for looking after her until now, everyone. You can leave us now."

Murmurs and shuffling reach Nesta's ears, sending a chill through her as she realizes he was right—she had been followed. How had she not noticed?

"¿Didn't you all heard me?," he chuckles, but she senses the threatening edge there. "Fuck off. Before I make you."

Nesta hears them scramble away hurriedly, their footsteps fading into the distance. They remain like that for several minutes, until there's nothing but heavy silence in the street. Then, with a suddenness that catches her off guard, he lets her go, and she stumbles slightly.

She turns to face him, torn between thanking him and hurling insults. But as she catches his face, her words die on her lips.

He’s taller than she expected, around Azriel's height, probably. Dressed in brown-green leather, he wears a sleeveless top that reveals toned arms, and fingerless gloves that end at his elbows. Nesta’s eyes dart to the knives hidden within his layers, strategically placed around his waist and legs. But it’s not the weapons that catch her attention.

Half of his face is concealed by a partially pulled hood, casting shadows across his features, while a dark veil shrouds his eyes, adding an air of mystery that unsettles her. There’s a raw aura emanating from him, a soft but fierce energy that makes her heart race in anticipation.

His mouth draws a crooken grin, showing his sharp teeth. Nesta holds her breath...

A sharp caw echoes in the street, and Nesta sees at that moment a black crow flying over their heads. The male extends his arm just as the animal lands naturally on it, emitting a caw that sounds like a greeting.

The scene looks straight out of a weird dream to her. As if sensing her confusion, the male laughs softly, scratching the cow's head as he walks towards her slowly.

For some reason, Nesta can't bring herself to move, stuck staring at him until he's towering over her.

"Are you scared of me, darling, or is it my cane that bothers you?"

Nesta blinks at his question, processing that he's actually talking to her and this is all real.

"Your cane?"

"My crow. He's my cane in a certain way, you know. I know most people don't like him. Can't blame them, though. He's an asshole."

"Oh"

She doesn't know what to make of him. The way he talks and acts clashes greatly with the impression he gives off. But she knows how deceiving people can be, and she's heard enough of this place to know most of its residents can't be trusted.

"Thank you for saving me earlier."

"What do you mean 'thank you', darling? I don't do anything for free."

"Excuse me?"

He sighs loudly, as if he's repeating something simple to a child.

"I want money, obviously. A guy has to eat here. But I also accept favours...or kisses," he leans closer to her, smirking. "I saved your beautiful face from something worse than death. I think I'm owed a good reward."

A chill runs down her spine. She should have known. This is exactly the kind of person that makes the Hewn City what it is. A place for greedy, twisted creatures who indulge in their vices without restraint and embrace violence as a part of their daily lives. Assaulting women is just one of the many horrors they promote.

Nesta feels the air thicken with tension, the weight of his presence suddenly pressing against her like a tangible force. She steels herself, fully aware of the implications of being alone and defenseless with a man who considers taking kisses from females as 'reward' the norm.

Then he bursts out laughing, shaking his head. The crow seems to laugh with him. Nesta stares at him perplexed as he steps back.

"By the Cauldron, I wish I could've seen your face. I smelled your fear so clearly I thought you were going to bust into a giant flaming ball at any moment. Ah," he wheezes. "I'm fucked up, darling, but I'm not that fucked up. I only accept kisses when all the parties very much want to kiss me. Don't worry."

Nesta begins to calculate the right angle to kick him hard enough in the balls so he's limping for weeks. A voice suggests that setting him on fire would be much more enjoyable.

"You're a sick son of a bitch."

"Yeah, and the grass is green. Nothing new under the sun. Well, more like under the mountain. Get it?" He grins, expecting a reply. "Nevermind. Try to be more careful around here, darling. Specially since you're new. This place is full of sick sons of bitches, but not all of them are as nice as me."

"Who the hell are you anyway? Why are you helping me?"

He smiles again, but this time it’s not playful; it’s laced with something darker, a secretive edge that hints at eagerness. The corners of his lips curl, revealing a glimpse of those sharp teeth that sends a shiver down Nesta's spine. She can sense the challenge in his expression, an unspoken invitation to dance on the razor's edge of danger. And, much to her frustration, she's not entirely taken back.

"I'm Uther, at your service" he finally says. There's a certain heaviness on his voice when he does. "I've heard a lot about you, Lady Death."

The air between them crackles when those words are spoken, and Nesta’s pulse quickens. She’s suddenly acutely aware of every detail—the way his muscles ripple discreetly beneath the leather, the shadows that play across his half-hidden face, and the alluring blend of danger that surrounds him.

"Welcome to your new prison."

(This is your fault @jon-snows-man-bun - @the-anonymous-unikitty - @aurenturley - @c-starstuff-man0)

[suegodvester]

"Status report?" Akira whispered as his eyes adjusted to the darkness once more. The moon once illuminating his path now weakly shone through the browned glass behind him, barely noticeable.

"As far as the rumors go, it's not entirely abandoned. It seems someone might actually be living here?" A familiar voice hushed behind him. "Not many shadows though, nor any living beings so far, either."

"So how'd you get here, Panther?" Akira turned slightly, realizing Panther's position completely obscured them in the shadows beneath the extended windowsill. "And where's Skull?"

"I had to sneak around a bunch, there's so many floors. Sorry for taking so long, but it's definitely not what we were told, that's for sure." The annoyance audible despite as her voice barely being so. "The shadows all got good hearing, although they're not too keen on properly using their eyes."

"Sounds like the average shadow." Akira softly snorted. "And it might be a good sign. An unprotected place never holds good treasure."

"And that sounds like the average Joker." Panther teased him, her finger finding his side with a strong poke. "I haven't heard anything from Skull yet, I thought he'd check in with you after we split as well."

Akira shook his head, leaning back against the wall behind him. "You also.." he realized out loud, before changing tracks. "How did he even get in here in the first place?"

"He just said 'Check this out!' and slipped inside through a crack in the wall. Literally, I might add." Akira could almost hear her roll her eyes and he couldn't stiffle the chuckle, earning him another quick jab. "It was creepy! It just closed up right behind him!"

"I leave you two alone for five minutes and Skull gets swallowed by a wall." Akira says dryly. "When did this become our average Tuesday?"

"It's Friday, if not Saturday already." Panther shot back.

"It for sure is Saturday, then. Just another average Saturday. Do we have any suggestions for completely average plans, while we're at it?"

"Not yet, no." It was Panther's turn to sigh softly. "This place is properly giving me the creeps."

[rebouks]

Darien: You’ve got two options; a shitty flight that’ll take over twenty-four hours with two stops, paid for by yourself, or I’ll pay the difference for an eleven hour one. Brynn: The shitty one. Darien: Alright… Brynn: I not think I have enough money yet. Darien: You just didn’t know where to look. Brynn: Thank you. Darien: It’s fine-.. are you excited? Brynn: Not really. Darien: About the baby…

Brynn: Oh, yes! I always think about having babies one day. Darien: With Wyatt? Brynn: Not in the beginning, maybe. Darien: I’m sorry-.. for everything. Brynn: Is okay, I have also trodden on other people to get ahead sometimes. Darien: You seem pretty understanding about it all. Brynn: Life is too short for grudges and regret, no? People change. Darien: I suppose you’re right. Brynn: You know he is called Kaito now? Darien: I know, where’d you think he got his paperwork from?

Brynn: Ohh, you are very clever. Darien: It’s who you know, not what. Brynn: That is true. Darien: Okay, your flight’s booked for tomorrow night at eleven thirty-four. Brynn: Is already tomorrow. Darien: Tonight, then. Brynn: Ough, I am nervous now! Darien: He might take it.. okay-ish? I feel like I don’t know him as well as I used to. Brynn: In a good way though, yes? Darien: Yeah, I think so.

Previous // Next

[inafieldofdaisies]

Happy Halloween from Calahan who is taking over the cult indefinitely (a.k.a. WIP Wednesday bcs I'm late, kinda) | "Sinners Welcome" Drabble

I had this idea floating around about doing an edit of Cal cosplaying as Joseph for Halloween, so here y'all go. I'm just so proud of it. I went as far as designing his tattoos myself as graphics to use. Below we got the story that goes with the edit, I will be posting it on AO3 soon, too. It gets nsfw towards the end because John do be sinnin'.

"Donovan.", Whitehorse called out as soon as Sabrina walked in through the door, a part of her feeling glad he was saving her from the compulsory morning small talk with Nancy. "Morning, Sheriff.", she sent him a small smile, noting the deep frown he wore for such an early hour. "Walk with me." He didn't wait for her to reply, heading towards the small kitchen in the Sheriff's Department. Silence took over as he waited for the coffee machine to grant him, if she had to guess, not his first dose of caffeine for the day. "Is everything okay?" "You're with Rookie today.", he mumbled as he took a sip from his mug, "Pratt called in sick, and I need someone to keep an eye on him." She nodded, "Fine by me." "Good, good.", his voice lowered, "To be frank, Hudson refused after hearing where they'd be headed." "Jesus, boss… you're making it sound like me and Gray are about to go to war.", Calahan poked his head into the room, lips twisting into a cheeky smile. Whitehorse's eyes narrowed as he smoothed down his mustache, "I'm more worried about you starting a war, Rookie." A snort left the younger Deputy, "Not on my to-do list, no worries." "I've heard that before.", he turned to Sabrina, "Donovan, just… try to keep him in check, will ya? Make sure he doesn't kill anyone." Calahan sent her a 'can you believe this guy' look over their boss' shoulder, "Will do." Whitehorse sighed, "The last thing I need is John Seed showing up out front, and makin' demands again. Am I clear, Rookie? Stay out of trouble." "As clear as this fine morning, sir.", the words were paired with a dramatic salute. "It's fucking overcast today, Rookie."

Sabrina bit back a laugh as he made a hasty escape before Calahan could raise his blood presure even more than he already had. "Kid." "What?", to an outsider the innocent look in Hartley's eyes would have been convincing enough, but by then she knew better, especially with the overall satisfied demeanor he had going on even after being prematurely scolded by Whitehorse. "Where are we going?" The smile that took over his face promised trouble, "Payin' good old Joe a visit." It's all he provided as an explanation before he spun on his heel and gestured for her to follow him. "I didn't get a coffee." There was an extra bounce to his step, strange giddiness, and he didn't even bother to stop when he muttered, "Already on it, Gray. It's waiting for you in the car. Chop-chop."

Minutes later, they were pulling at Joseph's Compound, the music Calahan had playing in the cruiser drawing the attention of the two Eden's Gate members manning the front gates to it. The fact they rested their hands on their holsters as he shut off the ignition wasn't lost on Sabrina. "Cal?" By the looks of it, he wasn't sharing her concerns about things going sideways on trigger-happy Peggie territory, "Yeah?" "Try not to make them angry… for me?" He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before nodding quickly, "I will try my best, partner." She knew it was all she could really get from him as a promise, especially considering his previous run-ins with Joseph's men. There was a reason why Hudson had refused to tag along with him for the day - avoiding paperwork or having to talk him down from the edge. Chances were, their routine visit could result in a fight breaking out, punches being thrown or worse. Sabrina exited the car, following Hartley towards the entrance of the Compound as he strutted like he had no care in the world, headed straight for the cultists.

"Joseph called us in.", he announced and crossed his hands over his chest, regarding both men with a bored expression. "Morning.", she added, refusing to buckle under the scrutiny that somehow had ended up on her instead of Calahan. "Ask for Mercy.", one of the bearded men grumbled out, dark eyes revealing little as he extended his hand to point down the road behind him. "Well, that didn't sound menacing at all.", Sabrina remarked under her breath as she and Hartley followed the muddy path surrounded by fences on both sides on foot, and judging by how trodden it was, large processions from and to sermons weren't uncommon. The observation was just another awful reminder of how big of an influence the cult had, how many it had sucked in with its practices and empty promises. "Fucking weirdos. There better be a woman named Mercy waitin' or I'm-"

"You promised to stay calm.", she reminded him, gaze trained ahead in anticipation of anything malicious after the man's cryptic words, "I take it that you don't know who we're looking for?" Calahan snorted, "Not like I and Joseph's many wives hang out at the same spots. Hell, most of them don't even dare to look me in the eye, let alone come near me, like I'd seduce them just by breathing in their vicinity." "Rubbin' off your sin on them?", she asked jokingly. "Sins. Plural. I contain multitudes, Gray." Sabrina could feel everyone staring as two advanced ahead, a couple of houses and other small buildings coming into view, with a church towering over in the distance. There was a decent crowd around the spacious property despite the early hour. Men and women all dressed alike - in worn-out clothes bearing the symbol of their leader, the red Eden's Gate cross in stark contrast with their muted appearances. In the sea of beige and wary faces something captured her attention - a woman in a white vintage looking dress moved with conviction, but instead of coming to them and sparing them the hassle of looking for 'Mercy', she aimed for a redheaded man Sabrina had only seen on printed materials of the cult.

"That one, I know,", Calahan nodded towards him, coming to an abrupt stop and leaning in to whisper, "Jacob Seed, grumpy son of a bitch. Last person, I'd ask for directions, though." Without doubt, the oldest Seed did have a serious, over-disciplined aura about him, far different from the easy-going, dangerously charming act John put on in his attempts at recruiting new people for his brother's Project. Sabrina bit her lip as the woman with curly blonde hair tilted her head to look up at the man towering several inches over her, her demeanor relaxed in spite of the way Jacob was regarding her - like he wanted nothing to do with the interaction. As if he could sense the two sets of eyes watching them, his icy stare shifted from her to the Deputies standing a couple of feet away before he said something quietly and nodded in their direction. "Good morning, Jakey.", Calahan raised his hand in a mock wave, and the Seed brother sent him a frown before heading off the way the woman had come from without returning his greeting.

At the same time, she progressed forward, a friendly grin brightening her features as she came to a halt in front of Hartley, definitely not keeping a purposeful distance like the rest of Joseph's followers, "Deputies." He appeared completely taken aback by the bold move, especially with her deep brown eyes set on him. In ways she couldn't fault him, he had a weak spot for women, even more when he became their sole focus. Sabrina was the first to speak, "We were told to ask for Mercy." "That would be me. Mercedes Sibley. If you would follow me…", she spun around with that, uttering quiet hellos to people and leading them past the church where a house resided spaced out from the rest marked with phrases in latin. Sins, to be exact. Nothing was written above the doorway of this one, Sabrina realized. Mercedes pushed the door to the house open with her and Hartley close on her heels.

She wasn't sure what to expect from what she deemed as the home of a cult leader - somehow the plain walls in need of repaint adorned by a couple of portraits and newspaper clippings felt mundane, too normal. The short hallway led into an ordinary looking living room, where Mercedes made a right turn towards one of the open doorways, announcing in a far gentler voice as she reached it and moved aside so they can pass through first, "The Deputies are here, Father." Joseph Seed, the man that had built a giant statue of himself and pronounced himself as God's mouthpiece, sat in one of the chairs at that small kitchen table while his older brother stood nearby as if on guard duty. The gun and knife holster strapped to his tight certainly hinted at that. "Good morning, my name is Deputy Donovan, my colleague and I are here on a call.", Sabrina explained while Calahan remained silent, an unreadable expression coming over his features when his blue eyes set on the 'Father'.

"Shouldn't we call John, let him handle things?", Jacob grunted out, pretending like they weren't even in the room as Mercedes moved past him and resumed a position behind his brother. To Calahan's credit, he made none of the expected remarks, his serious demeanor beginning to worry Sabrina to an extent. "Somebody broke in, brother.", Mercedes glanced in the oldest Seed's direction, his gaze narrowing at the last word she had said in a sickly sweet tone, "Does it make sense to call in an attorney for that?" Joseph's eyes bounced between the Deputies, finally coming to rest on Hartley's, "Sit, Mercy, my child. There's no need to call John at the moment." Mercedes complied by slipping into the chair next to his, silently hinting for Sabrina to do the same. She cleared her throat, settling into her seat across from the woman before pulling out her report notebook and laying it down on the table, "How about we start from the beginning then?"

Calahan loomed behind her, hand grasping the back of her chair, standing watch just like Jacob was for his brother. Joseph pushed his sunglasses up his nose before leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him, "I went to bed last night, and nothing was out of place. After waking up this morning, I noticed a couple of things were missing." Sabrina noted his words down, tapping her pen on the page, trying to avoid any unnecessary eye contact, "Things as in?" She couldn't imagine how stuffy the room would feel if John had been there too to make demands, possess the conversation. How fully outnumbered they'd be then. "Personal belongings.", Jacob cut in. "We would need a list of anything that's been taken, Mr. Seed.", Sabrina sent him a quick glance, just in time to catch his eyes darting to Mercedes. Interesting. "My old Bible,", Joseph began, lips pursed in disdain, "an engraved belt, a black custom blazer and… my rosary. I believe that's all."

"Okay.", it was a strange list of items to be stolen, but Sabrina didn't say anything as she jotted down each item, "Any sign of forced entry, or better yet, can we take a look around ourselves?" "I still think we should call John.", Jacob grumbled out again, making Mercedes sigh quietly. "He doesn't lock any of the doors.", she said eventually. Calahan snorted at that, whatever energy for acting decent running its course, "So, the perp just… entered?" "Which is still a crime, is it not?", Mercedes asked slowly. "Technically, yes.", he chuckled, "But, Father here is making it a hundred times easier on thieves. So frankly, anyone living on the property could be a suspect. He's lucky nobody has done other serious crimes upon his person while he sleeps. A slit throat for example." "I trust my children, they would never steal from me, let alone hurt me.", Joseph argued. "Do you, now?", Calahan's voice took an edge, "Can they say the same about you, Father?"

"So much darkness,", the Father's eyes rose up to look over Sabrina's shoulder, "is trapped within you, child, looking for a way out. My family could help you, set you free from it." "I'd take no help from a man that doesn't even know how to protect his own home. If I were you, I'd worry more about the thief lurking amongst your people instead of my poor blackened soul… after all, stealing is a sin, is it not?" Jacob came closer, "It was an outsider, we are certain of it. So just do your job and find them." Sabrina nodded as she closed her notebook, "We will take a look around then." Mercedes rose up with that, "I can show you two-" "Sit down, Mercedes.", annoyance seeped into the command as Jacob strode past the table and out of the kitchen, calling out for Sabrina to follow him. He pointed at each door that led outside, the old floorboards groaning beneath his feet at almost every step he took. Calahan stayed behind in the kitchen doorway as she took notes, leaving her to ask questions and navigate the hostile waters.

"Your brother sleeps where?" His chin lifted up towards a doorway that led out of the living room, "Down that hall." "Heavy or light sleeper?" Jacob crossed his hands over his chest, impatience oozing from his body language, "How is this relevant?" "Considering I'm trying to determine most likely point of entry… it would be helpful. If you have better things to do, Mr. Seed, I'm sure Ms. Sibley won't mind taking it from here." His jaw ticked at the suggestion, "Light." Sabrina focus zeroed on the backdoor, and she walked back and forth a couple of times while scanning for any potential evidence the thief might have left behind, "Would you mind…" "I mind." It took a lot of willpower for her to not roll her eyes, reminding herself the quicker they wrap up the report, the sooner her and Calahan would be rid of dealing with the Seeds.

"It would be helpful if somebody with different stature-" Jacob repeated her movements before she could finish her sentence, then turned back to her with a 'are you happy now?' expression. "Thank you.", she lifted her attention from her notebook, making sure to pick her next words carefully, "Your brother claims the perp entered the house during the night while he was asleep." At his nod she continued, "And his floors aren't exactly-" His icy blue gaze narrowed at that, "What's your point, Deputy Donovan?" "I assume the items were in the room where he sleeps?" "Yes.", a hand scratched his bearded cheek. "And he didn't hear anything?" "Are you accusing my brother of lying?" It was at that point she began to wonder if John in fact had been around, he would have been easier to deal with, or he would have ended up avoiding answering her questions even more, especially with how cagey Jacob acted, like she wasn't there to help, but rather arrest Joseph.

"I'm not accusing Mr. Seed of anything. In an investigation every bit of information is useful, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. You called us, I'm just trying to do my job here." "Mercedes called you. I had nothing to do with this.", he corrected her coldly. Sabrina spared a quick look in Calahan's direction, finding him watching the two silently with a dark smirk from his previous spot, before she pulled the door leading out of the back of the house open. Her eyes remained casted downward, and she could feel Jacob standing close as he peeked over her shoulder at what had captured her interest. "Do many visitors use this door usually?" "No." At his confirmation, she crouched down, taking a picture of a fresh footprint left in the mud and measuring it with her hand roughly, she hushed the part of her telling her the size of the shoes the thief wore seemed to match Calahan's.

"So this is the point of entry?", he inquired for once as she got back up. "It would seem so.", she pocketed her notebook, "Anything of significance back there?" "That way leads off the property." Sabrina carefully avoided stepping over the only evidence left behind, her sights set on examining the path the perp had most likely took after snatching Joseph's belongings. "I will need to take a look then.", she didn't expect for the oldest Seed to follow, but he did, the crunch of leaves and twigs signaling his steady pace behind her. The silence only broken by the occasional chirping of birds around them was unnerving, even more paired with the fact she was being shadowed by an armed individual who wasn't exactly keen on her and Calahan's presence at his brother's Compound. Yet she refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing he was making her uncomfortable, she had no doubt he would enjoy every second of it.

"I haven't seen you around before.", Jacob mumbled in an even tone as she advanced forward, watching her every step carefully as the path pretty much disappeared into an overgrown grass. If it was anyone else, his attempt at small talk would have made her smile, she'd probably would have tried to ease the person's unease at it, instead she kept her answer as short as possible, the same way he had before, "You folks don't exactly have a habit of asking for our help." A noise of agreement left him at the same time her boot caught on what she guessed was an exposed tree root, making her trip as she navigated the terrain soaked by the rain from the night prior. The dreaded faceplant never came thanks to the hand that wrapped around her upper arm and steadied her, followed by a dark chuckle. "Careful now, Sabrina." The fact he knew her first name despite remarking how he'd never seen her before was a red flag on its own and confirmed he knew more than he let on, the choice of using it at that exact moment though, was what gave her pause.

She held his stare in defiance before shaking off his hold, "I can handle myself." The bored expression swooped back in place as he lifted his shoulder, "Be my guest." Sabrina covered the remaining distance to the property line in a rush, worrying about what would await her upon returning to the house, if Calahan would have managed to keep his cool as promised. To her relief Jacob settled for keeping any further comments to himself, trekking a few feet away behind her until they reached the fence that was meant to keep intruders out. Or members trying to flee, in… A well-thought cut in the chainlink greeted them. The sought after point of entry and escape. "You're better at this than expected.", he remarked quietly, pulling at the fence as his face scrunched up into a frown. Sabrina pursed her lips at the offhand compliment before snapping a couple of pictures, "Not sure if I should say thank you or feel insulted."

All she got as reply was an unreadable look before he let go of the mesh the thief had snipped at to gain entry on the cult's land. "So perp goes through all this trouble, risks getting caught by your brother… for a belt, blazer and old bible?" "Locals have been know to do far stranger things to Eden's Gate property." "Still… are you certain nothing else is missing? Anything beside your patience, that is.", the last part she uttered out in a low voice, but judging by his reaction he heard it. All she could describe him as was appearing insulted at the bold but very true observation, "I'm absolutely patient." She raised an eyebrow and set off towards the way they came from, "Sure." "Far more patient than your partner back there.", the 'partner' part he said as an insult, clearly thinking as highly of Calahan as the young Deputy did of him. Just when she was convinced he would slip back into avoiding conversation, he spoke up again, hesitation lurking behind his words, "Do you think he was lying?"

It was quite obvious who he meant, still she settled for a simple, "Who?" "Joseph." "About which part?" The idea anyone, let alone someone so close to the Father was questioning something he claimed had happened, was certainly an unexpected outcome. By then Jacob had caught up, falling into step beside her, "Being asleep. Considering you were a detective…" "You read my records or something, Mr. Seed?" "Something like that." Sabrina sneaked a fleeting glance in his direction, "You actually want my professional opinion or is this some tactic you picked up from John?" "I want the truth." A sigh broke free as her eyes came to rest on the house that was drawing closer and closer, "Well, do you think your brother would sleep through a person entering his home, no, worse, his bedroom… rummaging through the space in the dark for the items while leaving no traces behind?"

"It was a compliment.", he muttered when they reached the backyard and he pushed his way inside first, his stony demeanor returning at once. Whatever doubts were plaguing him were none of her business, her sole focus as she followed in his wake was making sure Hartley was okay and staying true to his promise of peace. "Cal." Calahan had hardly moved from where she had left him and he gave her a puzzled look before asking, "We done here?" "I need like 5 minutes.", her smile was forced when she entered the kitchen where only Mercedes was still seated, while Joseph and Jacob were nowhere to be found. "He won't be pressing any charges…" Sabrina shifted in place, "We haven't established any suspects yet, Ms. Sibley." "I'm just saving you time, Deputy.", the blonde got up with that, smoothing down her dress, "John has decided to take it from here, figure out who's done it and make sure the incident doesn't repeat."

"You heard her, Gray.", Calahan added behind her, "We're off then, miss." He sent Mercedes one of his signature winks before storming out of the house, and to her credit she appeared completely unfazed in comparison to the usual response he got from women, "I will see you out." Sabrina nodded and set out after her, meeting up with Hartley who was waiting for her outside by the entrance. With a final wave from the woman, the two were off on their way back to their cruiser, quickly becoming the center of attention once more. A couple of feet down the dirt path she spotted another familiar face that stared at her anytime she would turn on her TV or drive through town. The man that had decided to take over the 'investigation', believing he was more capable. John was engaged in a hushed conversation with Jacob, pausing whatever he was saying to steal a look at her.

"I feel like we're animals in a zoo." Calahan let out a chuckle, "Sadly no petting, though. Speaking off…" To her horror, his voice rose as they passed the two Seed brothers, drawing in even more eyes to them. "Anyone feelin' like sinnin' tonight?", he hollered cheerfully, "Halloween party at the Spread Eagle. Girls, I'd even buy you a drink. Dancing's on the menu, too, followed by other activities if you're lucky." The dark expression that came over John's face was enough for her hands to wrap around his arm and squeeze his bicep in a warning as she whispered under her breath, "You promised to behave." "I behaved plenty.", his smirk was full of pride, "Plus, look at Johnny, I'm pretty certain I saw a vein in his forehead pop, I need to get closer to see-" She ushered him along, knowing things were bound to end well if he and John were to butt heads right then and there, "Follow the path, kid." To the youngest Seed credit, he refrained from giving them a piece of his mind, and Sabrina wasn't sure if it was thanks to the crows and his brother watching his every move or because he was planning another appearance in front of the Sheriff's and making Whitehorse's day hell.

"Do you think I'd get lots of candy, Rin-Rin?", Savannah asked with an excited smile as she peeked over the back of the couch. Sabrina sank in the empty space next to her, and her sister snuggled into her embrace, "Even if you don't.", her voice lowered like she was about to share a little secret, "I hid a stash for you someplace in the house." Excitement shone in her green eyes, "My favorite candy?" "Of course, pumpkin." "You know, bats use echolocation to find their food?" Sabrina released a chuckle,  "Then it's even more fitting." A knock sounded, making her rise up from her seat, curiosity swooping at who was stopping by when Ms. Darcy wasn't meant to be there for a good couple of hours. She swung the door open, finding Calahan leaning against the doorframe with one of his usual grins, a black duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, a familiar pair of yellow tinted shades covering his eyes.

"Hey." "Kid?, she gave him a confused look as he pushed his way inside, "I thought we were meeting at the bar?" "Tiny!", he greeted Savannah, and before he could blink, a blur of red curls was rushing at him, and he scooped her sister up like she weighted nothing. "Uncle Cal,", small hands came to rest on his shoulders, as her mood brightened even more at the surprise visit, "did you come to see my costume?" "Of course, Sav. You're going to be the cutest bat." He lowered her back onto the ground, turning to Sabrina with a determined expression, "Speaking of costumes, Gray…" There was twinkle in his baby blues as he regarded her, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was just as excited for the holiday as Savannah. "You're yet to tell me what you're even going as.", she raised an eyebrow in a question, having no idea what he would actually pick. His lips twisted into a smirk, "A beloved character, if you will."

"Oh?" "And I kind of need your help… seeing how you're the one with artistic skills, especially compared to little old me." Sabrina nodded, "What are we talking?" Calahan's response was to chuck the duffel bag at her, and she caught it swiftly before dropping it on the floor and unzipping it to see what he had brought along as materials. Her hands lifted a pair of dark gray jeans that laid on top, covering the rest of the items inside, and she needed a moment to process what she was staring at. A belt engraved with the Eden's Gate cross. A black blazer. A well-worn bible that looked like it was close to falling apart. No, not a bible, rather than a Joseph's version of it. A rosary was at the bottom, confirming her suspicions further. "Calahan.", Sabrina muttered in disbelief as her gaze rose up to his, registering the sheepish expression he wore at the discovery.

"Yeah?" "It was you." "No comment." "I-", she shook her head, "I have no idea what to say." "Say you will help me by drawing a couple of tattoos for me?", he paired the words with puppy dog eyes for good measure. "Jesus, Cal." "You're in troubleeee.", Savannah giggled behind him, completely oblivious to the fact her beloved uncle had committed a crime, broke the law when he was supposed to enforce it. "Pretty, please?", his voice dipped, "I went through so much s-", he stopped himself before a curse slipped out, "stuff to get them… I'd draw the tats myself, but well… angles aren't exactly friend, and I feel like this look deserves more, you know?" "And Whitehorse?" "You heard Mercy, there's no case for us to worry about. Joseph can, uh, fluff off." Sabrina sighed, "I can't believe this."

He shimmied towards her to pick up the bag, "That a yes?" "I-" "Say yes. I knoooow, wrong brother.", he tried mimicking John's usual tone from his broadcasts, successfully making her laugh as her frown melted away. "You're going to owe me one." Calahan made a cross over his heart, "Goes without sayin'." She took a deep breath before pointing at the hallway that led upstairs, "Bedroom then, I will be right up." "Not something I expected to hear from you.", he wiggled his eyebrows before disappearing up the stairs. "Sav, I will help uncle Cal with his costume for the party, I won't be long, okay?" Her sister nodded excitedly, a rush coursing through her system like she had already gone through the candy reserve hidden for her, "I can't wait to see his." Sabrina winced at the idea Calahan most likely planned on going shirtless that evening and showing off as much as he could, "Behave while I'm gone, okay? If you need anything, just holler." "Okay.", Savannah's attention shifted back to the TV, and Sabrina rushed out of the living room and towards her bedroom.

Hartley had made himself at home in one of her armchairs, jumping to his feet as soon as she came into view. "Ready?" Sabrina rubbed her forehead as she rummaged through the drawer that held all body paints she had left from previous Halloweens, "Don't expect miracles." "Want to see my sharpie rendition of Joe's tattoos? Then we can talk about failures.", he asked before lifting his shirt over his head, "I showered before coming over, by the way." Sabrina gestured to the chair in front of her vanity as she selected what brushes she might need, "You're a lot, you know that?" "Just try not to fall in love.", Hartley added jokingly as he shuffled over, muscles flexing as he sat down in his designated spot. "That won't be an issue." Her disbelief made him laugh out loud before he muttered, "It's a thing. Like for real." "Then maybe Mary May would tonight?"

"Doubtful.", his tone became sober for a second, regret swooping in, then another grin erased his scowl, "I found you pictures." Sabrina released a dramatic sigh of relief, "Good, because it ain't like I've seen Joseph naked, so you'd be getting generic tattoos without references. You're lucky you're not getting prison ones, consider you committed a crime last night." "Pfft, he has extras of everything I took. The only reason he called us in was because he couldn't believe someone had the guts to enter his actual house." She didn't bother to point out the bible looked treasured, somewhat irreplaceable based on its state. The fact Joseph might value the items wasn't going to change Hartley's mind and make him return what he stole, not even because of the risk he might get into trouble with Whitehorse, but simply for the idea he refused to bow down to any of the Seeds. He pulled out his phone, presenting a couple of shots from sermons the Project no doubt used to promote themselves.

"You know, for a cult that hates technology and sinning, they sure are relying hard on both to lure people in…", Sabrina uttered out, beginning with a crudely done, faded reddish tattoo on his right clavicle, spelling 'Sloth'. Calahan snorted, "Have you seen John? Fucker is the very definition of honey trap, then you have Faith… Hell, the little lady from this morning certainly was one too." "Both brothers were acting strange around her." "Jacob?", he huffed at the idea, "Ain't no way. John, I can picture being frustrated as fuck and losing his mind at the fact his brother banned sex." "Whatever you say." "All that talk of sin, like come on.", he argued, "Folks are talkin' about him and his life before the Project…" "I suspect I don't wanna know." His grin remained in place, fully fueled by the fact he was getting what he wanted while gossiping about the family that was a thorn in the County's side, "Oakley and I made a bet after hearin' some interesting things from Addie. $50 says he has a sex room at the ranch Joe knows nothing about."

"And how exactly would you confirm that?", Sabrina's next step was painting a black-and-white crown adorned by the cult's cross and to Calahan's credit, even with all the unleashed energy within him, he remained seated without fidgeting too much. "No clue.", he began slowly, sounding like he was actually considering the idea, "I ain't takin' one for the team, that's for sure. No idea who would and how successful they'd be, either." "That would be a sacrifice." Hartley groaned at that, "He most definitely chants 'Yes' over and over as he comes. Guaranteed. Can you imagine it? I can't picture sentencing anyone to that torture." "I'd rather not. Sit still,", she warned as she began working on another tattoo, "Can we change the subject?" "What? Johnny fuckin' ain't your cup of tea? Because I have more thoughts on the matter." "You're on thin ice, kid." "Fine, fine.", he rolled his eyes, "He stopped by the station, you know… To his shit luck, Whitehorse had left already, almost caused him to have a meltdown before his actual scheduled meltdown."

"What about?" A laugh rumbled his chest despite her previous warning, gaze filling with a prideful gleam, "Me inviting his precious members to party at Mary May's. How I was spreadin' my sinful ideas without any shame. Told him, I'd be spreading more than ideas tonight and flipped him off before I left." "Jesus." "He's probably complaining to him still. 'That sinner, how dare he! And why can't I have some, too, God?'", he went for another attempt at imitating John's way of speaking. The next tattoo that spelled 'Lust' had quite the unfortunate placement, making Sabrina back away to examine her work up until that point. "Abs are next. It might be too far, even for us." He didn't appear bothered by the idea at all when he rose up to give her better access, "Yes, m'am. Paint me like your local cult leader, not one of your french girls."

"Hilarious.", she shook her head at his amusement, "When I woke up today, the last thing I imagined having to get close and personal with your lower regions." "Oh, come on. There are worse views. Plus, I'm wearing pants, you ain't even getting the full Hartley tour." "I guess that's true.", a real tattoo above his left hip drew her attention despite trying to remain focused on her task, and a giggle broke free as she made out what it said in a convoluted font, "Cal?" "Gray?", he mimicked her intonation, eyes meeting hers. "Does this spell what I think it does?" "Oh, yeah." It took a lot for her to keep her balance or her hand steady as another laugh made it past her lips, "But, but… why?" He shrugged, "Because it's the truth. And fyi, this isn't what I usually get from girls, you're kinda bruising my ego." "I mean, it does match Joseph's 'Lust', if nothing else."

"Fucking hypocrite.", he muttered out loud as Sabrina made a sign for him to spin around with her finger and sit down again as she moved onto his back. "I did get a feeling he wasn't being truthful about his whereabouts when 'the thief' broke in." "Entered, all that was missing was a 'Welcome, come on in, Cal' sign'.", he corrected her, "It was the middle of the night, and the house was empty, Gray. He was lying through his teeth to you, and to his brother." "I figured as much." "Speaking of…", another sin that in the reference image looked like it was inked on by a child adorned Calahan's skin, "How was trekking on your own with Jacob? Not many would dare go off with him." "Not like I asked him to come.", she explained slowly, her mind drifting back to their interaction, his cryptic words, and strange behavior. The fact she was avoiding answering the question wasn't lost on him, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Like pulling teeth, no idea why he even volunteered to tag along when the whole time he was rushing to get me out of his hair as soon as possible." Calahan scratched at his stubble, "I can make a good guess, but you won't like my theory." "I suspect as much." "I will keep it to myself then." "A first." "You're welcome, it physically hurts me to hold in my jokes sometimes." A couple of minutes later, most of the simple tattoos she could copy to bring Calahan's planned look together were done. "Damn.", he exlaimed as he examined himself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom, twisting as much as he could so he could see his back as well, "I knew I shouldn't have attempted to do these myself." Sabrina laughed, "That would have been a look." "Thank you, Gray.", Hartley gave her a half-hug, staying mindful of smudging his temporary ink, "Now Whitehorse's inevitable lecture would be worth it, truly."

"I'm honestly surprised you didn't steal Joseph's underwear, commit to the bit all the way through." A snort left him, "Please, I have my limits. Glasses are a little gift from Addie and exhibit A to him not telling the truth, because I so would have snatched his sunnies, too. The jeans are mine.", a shudder racked his body, "For all I know Joe likes going commando." "Thanks for the visual." Calahan feigned a bow, "I live to serve. Or to scar people, depending on the occasion." "I need to help Sav get into her costume, I promised to take her trick-or-treating before the party." "Ah, man, I'm tempted to tag along. Think people will give me candy?", he plopped down onto her bed with a dreamy sigh. "Considering your persistence and charm, I'd guess yes. But…" "But what?" Sabrina pursed her lips, "It might be best to stay back, minimize how many people would see you before it's even showtime. Word's bound to get to John or Joseph himself."

"True.", he nodded, "Mind if I stick around, then we can leave together?" "Of course. And if you're good, you might even get some candy from Sav's reserve. Relive your childhood to the fullest before getting the adult version of Halloween." His eyes lit up at that, "You got yourself a deal." "Just avoid making Ms. Darcy shoot you by mistake if she gets here while we're gone."

After taking Savannah out to show off her bat costume she had personally worked on in making what she called 'more realistic' and returning with enough candy that her back-up stash had become unnecessary and was gifted to Calahan, Sabrina bid her and Ms. Darcy goodbye for the evening. The latter had joked how she wouldn't mind Eden's Gate if the younger Deputy was in charge. "First thing, Darce asked me was if I had forgotten my shirt,", Hartley smoothed down the stolen blazer that no doubt would come off eventually and was the only thing he wore to cover his bare chest, "and how at least I had something on to not catch my death in the cold." "She's too cute sometimes.", Sabrina retorted as she got into her Bronco and buckled in. "Yeah, reminds me of my Nana, but…", he wiggled his eyebrows, dropping Joseph's bible and rosary in his lap before he leaned back into his seat and added, "then she told me how the ladies would sure appreciate the view."

Their laughter filled the truck as she pulled out of her driveway, an advertisement about the party at the Spread Eagle coming on the local radio station she usually had playing. "Sinners welcome." closed the message, and Calahan gave Sabrina a wink when she snuck a quick look in his direction. "Yes, it was my idea. A little fuck you to John." "Mary May's paying you for those gems or?" He chuckled, "I suggested she could also use me as a model, do some shots with my renditions of the Seed brothers." "Oh my god." "She shot the idea down, sadly. Maybe next Halloween.", he drummed his hands on the dashboard, "Good news is I'm getting free drinks tonight as a thank you for helping her decorate and set shit up." "You plan on finally doing something about your crush tonight?" "What crush?" "Very funny." "Speaking of getting laid… want me to be your wingman?" Her nose wrinkled at the offer, "I'd pass on that."

"I'm like the best wingman you can have, just saying." She pulled into one of the empty parking spots across the Spread Eagle, "I'm not sleeping with anyone tonight, Calahan." Hartley jumped off the truck, bible in one hand, while the other had the rosary wrapped around his palm a couple of times. He leaned against the door, thankfully lowering his voice so the other patrons that were pilling to go inside the bar wouldn't overhear him, "If you do change your mind, just say the word. I'm going to find you someone worthy. A stallion to ride." She let out a groan as she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, "Please don't ever say that again." His laughter followed her as she got out too and locked her doors, his arm swinging over her shoulders as the two walked towards the entrance of the Spread Eagle. Loud music and chatter filled the space as the Deputies pushed their way inside. Mary May was practically swimming in drink orders to a point she didn't even notice Calahan sneaking behind the bar to envelop her in a bear hug.

The blonde's confusion quickly dissipated as she shook off his hold, still not taking a good look at his costume, "Rookie, keep that up and you will be stuck behind the bar the whole night. Helpin', not partying." "You're no fun.", Calahan complained as he heaved himself over the counter instead of taking the long route, winning another curse from Mary May followed by her eyes widening when she finally noticed his attire. He leaned against the bar counter as she slid a drink his way, "Do you like my costume, gorgeous?" "Where the fuck did you even find…", she shook her head, but a smile played across her lips. "I plead the fifth." "Brin,", her attention shifted to Sabrina, slipping back into bartender mode, "What are you drinkin'?" "I'm his DD tonight." "So nothing new?" She shrugged as Calahan downed his first glass for the night. "I'm gonna make you something delicious." "Thank you, M."

He shuffled closer, whispering in her ear over the music, "I will be right back, have to greet my Pyrobros. Do some rounds, recruit people for my newly founded cult." Before she could even respond, he strutted over to Hurk, Sharky, and a couple of other locals that were standing around one of the tables at the far end of the bar. "So, if Rookie's Joseph…", Mary May returned to her after serving a couple of newcomers, "I guess you're going for John? If you do need a Jacob-" Sabrina's confused frown cut her off, "I'm not wearing a costume, I thought those were optional." "No?" Blue eyes ran over her blue button-up she had left mostly unbottoned after leaving her jacket in her car. "Nope. Does it look like it?" "I mean, paired with him,", Mary May's head cocked in Calahan's direction, "I'd say yes. No pun intended." A drink was placed in front of her, and she took a sip, sweetness hitting her taste buds, "I love this one."

"Yeah?", pride shone in the blonde's gaze before it shifted to the far end of the counter to a figure sitting next to the wall, bathed in shadows, "Anyways, I was gonna suggest Lizzie over there being your Jacob." It was rare anyone called Oakley Moore Lizzie, most folks weren't bold enough to engage in a conversation with the woman, let alone use a nickname she considered forbidden. "Oaks.", Mary May called out to her, gesturing for her to come closer. Seconds ticked by before Oakley switched seats, shoulders bumping with Sabrina's as her pale gaze settled on her. It's what she considered a proper greeting that was usually confused with her being hostile and granted, most of the time, she wasn't one for tolerating small talk. "Brin." "How's Betty?" Warmth melted away the iciness in her eyes at the mention of her grandmother, "You know Nana, refuses to sit down. And is now forcing me to socialize after Cal mentioned the goddamned party. I was planning on going hunting."

Cheers and whistling drowned out her response as Calahan did a victory spin for the crowd gathered inside, spreading his hands in the air the same way Joseph did and exclaiming, "The Father? I prefer Daddy, my children. Sin tonight… make me proud!" "He's something else.", Oakley commented with a smirk as she downed her whiskey, nodding past Sabrina, "Did he actually go through with 'borrowing JoeJoe's things'?" "Unfortunately. We got a call about it this morning." The news ripped a laugh out of Moore, another rarety, "Even his ratty bible?" The stolen bible lay discarded next to Sabrina, and she moved it out of the way of whoever wanted to occupy the empty chair to her left, mindlessly flipping through it until something caught her eye. A picture was nestled between the pages, its corners frayed like it had been touched many times. "What the-", the question drew Mary May's attention, and she leaned over to peek at what she was holding. "Ask for Mercy." The woman they had met that morning stared back at her in the photograph, smiling, wearing another similar white dress. "Well, fuck me.", Oakley uttered under her breath as she too huddled closer to examine the find, "JoeJoe has a dirty little secret?"

"Ah, man, you nailed the Joe-bro look, I swear.", Hurk raised his beer to Calahan for a toast just as a slender hand came to rest on his elbow. "Hello.", a petite blonde dressed as a fairy he hadn't seen around before greeted him with a shy smile, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks while she ogled his bare chest that was covered in temporary tattoos. The ladies sure appreciate it. Thanks, Gray. "Calahan.", he reached out his hand, giving her one of his signature grins, "And you are, beautiful?" A giggle left her as her palm touched his, "Cheyenne, but friends call me Cherry." "Cherries are my favorite.", he replied as he leaned in closer and straightened the dainty wings she had strapped around her shoulders, "You gonna dance with me, Cherry?" "I'd love to."

A song faded into another with Cheyenne melting further into him, her flowery perfume invading his senses while he wished he was dancing with somebody else. The same somebody that was currently not so secretly shooting daggers in his direction. Mary May was certainly not appreciating the view as she poured a drink to Grace Armstrong and then moved onto another customer. "You want a drink or something, baby?", Cherry's voice pulled him out of his staring, and he forced his attention back to her, offering her a carefree smile. "I have everything I need right here." Her hands traced his pecks before encircling his neck, her body moving to the rhythm as she pressed it closer to his on the small dancefloor. His head dipped at the telltale signs while she rose on the tiptoes to meet him halfway, their lips locking and for a second, he could pretend he wasn't kissing a stranger he just met.

It was even easier when they were blondes, yet those nights stung even more afterward. A coy smile took over Cheyenne when she leaned back, her lipstick smudged slightly, "Feelin' like going someplace more private?" Before he had a chance to respond, the door to the Spread Eagle flew open with such force it banged into the wall. The noise cut through the music and murmurs of the crowd, followed by a booming voice. Or what John considered booming voice that Calahan rather described as irritated child on the verge of a meltdown. "CALAHAN HARTLEY." The grin on his face didn't melt away at his name being called, instead, he pretended nothing had happened, forcing John to strain his vocal chords some more. Even his own mother hadn't ever called his name that way, no matter how much trouble he had been in. By the youngest Seed's tone, Calahan could guess he had somehow seen one of the many pictures and videos patrons had taken with him in Joseph's attire.

"I will be right back, beautiful.", he assured Cherry before sneaking out of her embrace and facing John with a wide smile, mimicking the pose his brother loved so much. "JOHNNYYY!", he hollered back, his night getting even better when the man's face twisted in rage at the sight of him, "I knew you would be tempted to come."

Sabrina spun around in her chair as a loud bang cut through the usual chatter around them, horror gripping her as John Seed marched through the entrance of the bar like he owned the place. His voice, or rather the way he screamed Calahan's name, promised trouble, especially since he had always been mostly calm during what others categorized as 'meltdowns'. "That damned bastard, having the guts to show up here.", Mary May, slammed a glass on the counter with way too much force, the liquid inside spilling over the edges as she regarded the man that viewed her business as something that needed to be shut down. Oakley had sneaked out minutes prior, saying how she needed a smoke if she was to sit through the night and since then hadn't returned. "JOHNNYYY! I knew you would be tempted to come.", Hartley yelled back, full of glee. Before she could think twice, Sabrina was out of her chair, cutting through the crowd that had grown silent as bargoers, including Joey and Pratt, watched the scene unfolding that was bound to end in disaster.

"Brin. Fuck.", Mary May called after her, but she pushed forward while Calahan himself advanced in John's direction, raising a hand adorned by his brother's rosary in the air. "I'd buy you a drink, Johnny, but don't think you're my type." "How dare you…you-", John barely managed to get any words out when he took in the Deputy's outfit, "Is my brother A JOKE to you?!" "Why, YES. YES. YES.", Hartley screamed back, "You love that word dontcha, Johnny? He is a JOKE. And let's face it, I'm wearing the look BETTER." Sabrina made it into the space that people had cleared out in anticipation of a fight breaking out, gliding between the two swiftly, knowing well enough that either men were close to unraveling and doing something drastic. "Kid.", she warned, feet planted firmly while feeling John's approach behind her, "Don't." Her gut told her she had a bigger chance at reasoning with him since Whitehorse was the one who always dealt with Eden's Gate's ruthless lawyer.

"Move, Gray.", his blue eyes were clear, signaling he wasn't nowhere near his boiling point as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm, ready to move her aside in sign of danger. Like hell I will move. "You came on OUR LAND. BROKE-" "FUCKING LEAVE MY BAR.", Mary May cut in, drawing everyone's eyes to herself, to the shotgun gripped in her hands, "RIGHT FUCKING NOW." "You…sinner.", John's rage switched target for a breath, "You've learned nothing, have you, Mary May?" "OUT.", her blue eyes narrowed, "Before I create more holes into your body since you seem to love those." "Look at you. All of you.", Calahan let out a dark laugh as John continued his speech, "Spreading the sin. Turning your backs on Eden. When the Collapse is on our doorstep."

A cacophony of curses echoed back from the crowd, furious stares zeroing behind Sabrina, and all she could imagine was the confrontation turning into a real bloodbath and how Whitehorse would chastise all of them for failing to stop it. With her thoughts getting darker by the second, she spun around, a pair of angry blue eyes settling on hers, "Mr. Seed." Something flew past her head, crashing into the wall and making her duck down on instinct. A bottle smashed into pieces, aimed at John. "How DARE-", he yelled again, but only managed to get two words out before she was cupping a hand over his mouth and pushing him out of the bar, door slamming shut behind her as the chilly air hit her at once. "Please, just leave.", she removed her palm off his face and placed herself between him and the entrance, the exterior lights of the bar dancing across his skin.

"You-", John stopped himself, a shaky breath leaving him as he regarded her, "Do you even know what he did?" "Is it worth getting hurt over? That bottle was just the beginning." He advanced forward again, expecting her to budge, allow him entry. She did none of that, unwavering while he drew near enough she could smell him - an expensive cologne drifting off him, stark contrast to most of the Project's members odors. "Go home, Mr. Seed." John shook his head, set on taking things too far, "He broke into my brother's home, took his belongings, and is wearing his clothes as a costume. They're all drunk and mocking him, and all he stands for on social media." "And you're sober and can be the bigger man by walking away." His eyes ran over her face, silence taking over as the party inside the bar continued like nothing had even happened.

"Are you wearing me as a costume, too?" "It's just a shirt, costumes are optional." "Good, because I'm not a-" "Go home.", she tried again, gentler that time around, nodding towards the truck he hadn't even bothered to park, instead stopping it in the middle of the road in his angry spell. "I'm not leaving without Joseph's bible." Sabrina nodded, "I will be right back, don't do anything, okay?" She didn't wait for him to respond, rushing back into the bar where the celebration was back in full swing with Hartley grinding against a blonde in a fairy costume. Laughter carried around her as she reached the bar and grabbed the bible, ignoring Mary May's string of questions with her mind set on solving the issue, ensuring the night didn't end in disaster. "Here.", she announced the second she was back outside, exchanging the worn copy of Joseph's Word to John. "I won't let him get away with this. Hartley should be upholding the law.", he gritted out and spun around, striding off back to his vehicle as she finally released the breath she had been holding.

Whatever relief she experienced began dissipating when seconds ticked by and he didn't drive off, instead rounding his truck in the dark, a faint light bouncing around as he examined something. "Somebody slashed my tires, Deputy. All four.", his voice carried over the quiet night. "What?" In a couple of steps, she was standing by his truck, his phone illuminating a jaded cut in the front tire. He huffed, "Leave, you say? Leave? They won't let me." "I'm-" "Sorry? Are you really, Deputy?" "You can call someone to pick you up…", she wrapped her arms around herself, the cold finally getting through her thin shirt. John shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket, "Absolutely not." "I don't know what to say, Mr. Seed." Reality was she had allowed herself a night to go out and have fun, and now she was stuck placating a hostile individual who in ways had every reason to feel bereaved.

His gaze casted behind her, aimed at the bar, making her worry he was contemplating having another go at Calahan and hunting down whoever had deflated his tires. "I can drive you home.", the words came out in a rush, her willingness to help getting her in trouble not for the first time. All she got was silence, his expression hard to read in the dark, so she pointed behind him, "My truck is over there." "That's how every horror movie starts.", he muttered back. "I thought your c-", she shook her head to dismiss what he would have no doubt taken as an insult, "Never mind." "What?" "Nothing, Mr. Seed. Would you like me to drive you home?" She took his nod as an 'Yes' and quickly moved past his truck, headed for her own as she sneaked a glance over her shoulder to assure he was following. Sabrina was the first to climb in, reaching over to unlock the passenger side door for him, but John stood frozen next it, a look of suspicion washing over his features.

"This feels like a trap." She gritted her teeth before forcing a smile his way, "You're welcome to walk home then, Mr. Seed. Some fresh air won't hurt ya.", then leaned back into her seat as she waited for him to make his choice. At the end, his pride won, and he got in reluctantly, clutching his brother's bible between his fingers as he slammed the door shut. "I carry a knife on me.", he warned as she started the Bronco, pulling out of the parking spot just as a person emerged from the shadows from the side of the Spread Eagle, the twinkling lights picking up their light blonde hair. Oakley. With her hatred of John, chances were she was the one that had struck while he was too busy inside the bar. "I do, too.", Sabrina retorted while he reached out and changed the radio station to the one Eden's Gate owned and used for propaganda.

Most of the drive to his house passed in silence, only disturbed by the way-too-cheerful choral songs. Every once in a while, she'd spare a quick look in his direction, catching him staring at her, too, while the tension in the small space only grew. The next time she did it, she found him flipping through the bible like she had done, his hands freezing when he got to the picture. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as he plucked the photograph and examined it. There was no shocked exclamation, no cursing in surprise like Oakley had done. John remained stoic while he stared at the picture his brother clearly valued enough to use as a bookmark in what looked like a well-read paperback. The picture was of a woman. A member of his cult. The one that was worried about his wellbeing and had enough influence over him to convince Joseph to call the police. There was a reason why both Mary May and Oakley eyed the hidden photograph with interest, why they spent a while speculating over the story surrounding Mercy.

Sabrina rolled to a stop in the driveway of the ranch, fully expecting John to jump out of her truck as soon as it wasn't moving with how extremely quiet he'd been. Instead, he remained seated, staring at his brother's bible, his features twisted into a frown. "Have yourself a good night.", she muttered, hoping it would be enough to pull him out of whatever stupor had taken over him and get him out of her vehicle. "Joseph keeps that bible on his bedside table.", he whispered, thumb brushing over the worn-out cover, "And he had the picture-" His words died down abruptly as if he suddenly remembered himself, then returned to looking out through the windshield into the darkness outside of the car, only disrupted by the Bronco's headlights. "It's none of my-" "Did you feel it, too?", John interrupted her, blue eyes moving to hers, "Even now."

A part of her warned her to mind her business, but curiosity won over it, "Felt what?" "That pull. The electricity." She said nothing, knowing her opinion were to either lie or admit he was somewhat right, which no doubt would be an ego boost to him. Truth was, something obscure, palpable hung between them, charging the air, growing stronger the closer he'd been. It doesn't matter. "Goodnight.", Sabrina repeated again and leaned over to open the door for him and make her stance crystal clear. The move was a mistake on its own because she hesitated, hand coming to rest on the door handle as his scent invaded her senses once more. "You want me to go?", he asked, watching her closely. "Yes."

Yet her fingers refused to obey, to swing the door open, prompt him to leave. Tattooed hand wrapped around hers to lift it between them, the interior light of her truck illuminating the top of his palm. The black ink that covered it. She was convinced she had stopped breathing when she pulled his arm closer, making sure she wasn't imagining things. That the tattoo her fingers were tracing was the same. That it was real, what she'd seen again and again. "Sabrina?", confusion swooped into his tone, mirroring hers. "I feel it.", her confession was barely audible, but clearly enough for him to make a choice, "It changes nothing." His eyes darkened, darting to her lips before he cupped her cheek with his free hand, "No matter. I'm still going to kiss you." No part of what he had said was a question, but she nodded anyway despite her better judgment as he leaned in, mouth covering hers.

His lips moved over her own slowly, a tingle climbing up her spine at the contact while her rational side screamed for her to push him away, no matter who he might be in her visions. It's him. Her hand braced against his chest, moving up on its own before grasping the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. It was then that she returned the kiss fully, lips parting as his own tongue darted out, a groan leaving him at the granted access. His taste took over her system while he set out on exploring her mouth, fingers intertwining with hers. A muffled tud broke the spell between them, making John pull back, staring at her intently with hunger written all over his face. "I should go. Be good." She nodded, but his hold of her hand only tightened, signaling he was torn, not exactly feeling the words. "Thing is… I don't want to.", he confirmed, licking his lips and making her wonder if he was tasting her.

"I don't, either." His gaze shifted to his feet, where Joseph's book had tumbled down onto the floor of her car before returning back to hers. "This is probably going to come back to bite me.", he uttered out, "Most definitely actually, Deputy. But… I'm asking you to come inside. See where this takes us." Her eyebrow rose up at his bold invitation, "I must have misheard you." "You didn't." Sabrina forced a laugh, "Don't you people have a rule about this?" "We do, quite frankly.", he nodded quickly, "I'm doing this despite it." "What would your brother think?", she pushed further, expecting him to fold, remember himself, and the doctrine forced upon each member. One, he clearly didn't respect enough. "What would Whitehorse think about Deputy Hartley committing a crime on private property last night?" It was the lawyer in him, the negotiator set on getting what he wanted, peeking through.

Her gaze narrowed, "What are you implying?" "We're both facing a dilemma, Deputy, toeing a line, you're keeping Hartley's secrets, covering for him. But there's a simple question - what do you want?" To head home and not get involved in a messy situation, especially after how you acted at the bar. "For you to kiss me again.", a satisfied smirk came over him at her answer, and he let go of her hand, only so he could open his door. "Come then.", he called out as he jumped down onto the gravel, gesturing for her to follow suit. His door slammed shut as she turned off the Bronco's engine and exited, rounding the truck where he met her halfway and took hold of her arm again. "One rule.", she muttered at his back as he pulled her along towards the ranch's main entrance, the overhead light coming on to life at their approach.

"What?" "You won't make a fuss about Calahan's indiscretion." He sighed like it physically pained him to let Hartley off the hook, "Fine. But this would be the first and last time." A small victorious smile danced across her lips as his hand wrapped around the doorknob and pushed his front door open, causing her to blink in shock, "You don't lock your doors, either? Of course, it runs in the family." Darkness ruled over the house aside from a dim light spilling out from the room ahead of them. "I wasn't exactly in the best mindset when I left.", John explained, leading her forward past a dining table and a lit stone fireplace that was providing the aforementioned illumination and separated the large open space in two. He spun around when he reached the other side of it, hand landing on her waist to drag her into him, "We're doing this?"

Her nod was all he needed to fulfill her previous wish, lips descending over hers as he took a couple of steps backward until he was lined with the couch that faced the fireplace and he lowered his body onto the leather surface, bringing her down with him. She straddled his lap on instinct, sinking further into the kiss while his fingers traveled beneath her shirt, coming to rest just at the edge of her bra. Like he had done before, he broke their liplock, leaning back to regard her as his hand made it past the lace garment, cupping her breast. "Look at you,", she said before lowering her mouth to his and whispering, "sinning." He pinched her nipple in warning, "Haven't even begun." A surprised yelp left her when John shifted until he was lying on top of her, undoing her jeans as he held her gaze and dragged them down her legs enough to have better access. "You want to stop, you tell me.", he instructed before he stole another kiss, hand moving from her waist down her abdomen and beneath her underwear.

One finger pushed inside her, swiveling into her wetness, more pooling at his touch and the satisfied growl that broke free from him. "More.", Sabrina ordered, buckling against his palm to get more friction to her clit before he complied, adding another digit to the mix as he began pumping in and out of her heat. "You're dripping for me." "Yes.", the word made it past her lips before she could think better of it, a grin appearing on his face as he repeated the movement again. Slowly that time, tantalizing her, hinting at his plan. "John.", she groaned in annoyance, "Don't you dare go there." He shook his head, "Say it again." "No." "Again and you're getting another finger." "He was right. You are weird during sex." "Who?", his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as his hand halted inside her. She rolled her eyes, "Calahan."

"Why am I not surprised the pest was talking about me." He resumed the previous infuriating pace, prolonging giving her what she wanted. "Say it, Deputy.", John repeated, and when she shook her head in defiance, he added, "I'd sweeten the deal." "How?", she moaned out when his thumb brushed against her clit, adding pressure before retreating. "Another finger.", he dropped a kiss across her lips, "My mouth. And then…" She hated how his talking alone had an effect on her, turning her on. "Then what?" He took his time considering the question before whispering, "You get to ride me." "And if I don't?" "Mmm..", his mouth lowered to her neck, sucking on the tender skin as his fingers kept the same slow pace, while her arousal grew, dripping down his hand, "I take my time. Wear you down. And, be assured, I'd enjoy every minute of it, Sabrina."

"Once." "Hm?" "I'd only say it once, don't be pulling any dirty tricks on me, Seed." "Deal.", he muttered and halted his teasing altogether, waiting for her to follow through with her part of the agreement. A shuddered breath left her when his thumb circled her clit again as encouragement, "Yes." "Such a freeing word.", John rose up, clutching her panties and pulling them down past her knees. His lips lowered to her belly, kissing a path over it while his hands spread her thighs apart, positioning her the way he wanted her. "No games." He tsk-tsked, "Where would be the fun then?" Her protests were cut short when his mouth found her center, tongue licking away at her arousal and drawing more out of it as result. "You taste so sweet. To think I almost walked away.", he remarked, peeking at her from between her legs, before diving back in for more.

Her noises urged him on as she climbed towards a powerful climax, three fingers entering her like he had promised, lips wrapping around her clit and adding much needed pressure. She rocked against his hand, sinking further into the pleasure, almost forgetting who was delivering it to her, how they had ended up there in the first place. His name ripped off her lips as she came, his thrusts picking up and only heightening the sensation. "That's it. Give in. Let it all pour out for me.", she ignored how close he sounded to his preachings in the cursed broadcasts, "There's more where that came from." He moved up her body, little tremors still coursing through her limbs as he kissed her, giving her a taste of herself. "Can you handle more?", he challenged, rising up on his heels while his hands worked on undoing his belt and jeans to leave him down to his underwear, his erection's outline pressing against the material, begging for release.

"You tryin' to trick me?" He smirked, "Nothing of sorts." "You haven't delivered on everything yet.", Sabrina reminded him as she got up too, fingers grasping the waistband of his boxers, and pulling them down. "Protection.", he mumbled to himself, "I don't-" "What… you don't do this a lot?" His look of disbelief made her chuckle, "Absolutely not." "I'm on the pill." Her hand wrapped around him, stroking his cock a couple of times as he contemplated the idea. "Yes.", he answered finally, sitting back down onto the couch, still mostly clothed aside from his nether regions. Sabrina stripped off her boots, pants, and underwear completely to ensure nothing would obstruct her mobility, his eyes following her the whole time, tongue darting out to lick his lips. With her clothes out of the way, she threw her leg over his hip, straddling him as her hand lined his tip with her entrance.

She sank down onto him slowly, relishing every inch, judging by his measured breathing and how his features twisted in concentration, he was doing the same. Trying to maintain his control. "So tight.", he gritted out, "You gonna move for me, Deputy?" She rocked against him slowly, her sleakness making her glide up and down his shaft with ease, the sounds of pleasure filling the darkened room paired with the crackling of the fire. "You're killing me here.", he whined against her lips, fingers gripping her hips to dictate the pace. "Riding you. It's what you said." "Yes." "So, let me do that. Have patience." "Deputy…" She grasped his hands, moving them to her chest, "If you want something to hold, the girls are feeling a bit ignored." "We can't have that.", John caught up quick, unbuttoning her shirt while she resumed riding him.

Her bra came undone next as he made work of the front clasp in a blink, baring her completely to him. "I will rectify the situation.", he vowed in a serious tone, his mouth swooping down to her chest, paying attention to each breast individually. His compliance caused her to move faster, arousal coating his length as she squeezed her muscles around him in attempts to coax his orgasm out. "You feel so good for a Seed. Who could have known…", she teased and let out a yelp when his teeth grazed her nipple at the jab. It wasn't long before she stumbled over the edge, her walls clenching around him and drawing his own climax, making him let go with a groan. Her name fell from his lips as he spilled inside her. "Oh, John.", she muttered quietly against his neck, euphoria overwhelming her system. "Bold and brave?", he chuckled, "It seems somebody's been listening to our radio station." A hand swatted at his chest, "You're totally ruining the moment."

He hummed in disapproval, arms encircling her body as she snuggled into him more, "Sleepy?" "A little bit." "My bed awaits." "You're asking me to actually stay over?" A series of kisses covered her collarbone, tracing her butterflies tattoo, "I'm far from done with you." She broke out of his embrace, an emptiness settling between her legs as she rose up, convincing herself she couldn't allow him to take things even further than he already had. "Deputy.", he called out, still seated on the couch, watching her while she gathered her clothes from the ground and huffed at his release running down her thigh and making it impossible to get dressed without creating a mess. His gaze met hers, shadows and light dancing across his features and partly obsecuring his expression, "What?" "You're not going to need them.", she opened her mouth to speak, but he waved her off, getting up too and snatching her clothes from her to drop them on the couch, "We're going to my bedroom."

"John.", his name was paired with a sigh at his tone that left no room for arguments. He made quick work of taking off his own boots, jeans, and boxers, pulling her in by her waist as his lips hovered over hers, "Go. Run. And you can keep thinking back to this moment, wishing you made a different choice, or you could be honest about what you want… How much you want it." His hand grasped her backside, and she could feel him hardening between them again while he kissed her, coming for breath only to add, "I'd like to fuck you on an actual bed instead of having my sweaty skin sticking onto old leather… might as well be comfortable seeing how I broke so many rules already." The idea he actually cursed out loud made her snort, "Fuck me?" "That's the plan. Just say 'Yes'. Are you staying?" Of course you're fishing for your favorite word again. Silence settled around them, heavy with possibility, with the realization he was infuriatingly correct she'd regret it.

He brushed her hair out of her face, "Your eyes are so expressive, you know that? I could basically see the battle within. Which option is winning?" Her hands traveled up his chest, locking around his neck, "Yes. Happy?" What she got as reply was a triumphant grin before he hoisted her up, legs wrapping around his waist as he rounded the couch, moving with determination with her in his arms. "Someone's in a rush. How long has it been?", she joked while he took the stairs two at a time, getting to the second floor of the ranch in couple of beats. "Way too long, Deputy." Darkness engulfed them as he headed down a hallway, pushing a door open with his free hand that wasn't holding onto her. It was where he finally dropped her to her feet, the coldness of the hardwood floors meeting as it shut with a click behind them. John was on the move again, his footsteps being her only indicator in the pitch black, then a table lamp next to his bed came to life, illuminating the space and his nearing form with faint glow.

Her eyes took in her surrounding, bouncing from his bed, sheer curtains and wooden interiors of the room, to the ordinary furniture and two doors leading who knew where before they settled on his chest as he discarded his shirt and reached out for her again. A combination of scars and tattoos marred his skin. A small old key hanging around his neck. "Not what you expected?", he asked when his hand found her cheek, caressing her skin gently. Your bedroom or the fact you're someone I've been seeing for years? "I don't know what I expected." He nodded and moved onto her own shirt, pushing it down her arms until it pooled at her feet, her lace bra following in its wake. "Definitely weren't dressed as me, eh, Deputy?" She gave him a pointed look, "I told you-" "You'd look good in my shirt. I wouldn't mind you stealing that." Her laugh was a surprised one, "Careful what you wish for… I might be planning my costume for next year already."

"Beautiful.", he whispered as his eyes ran over her naked body, thumb breezing over her bottom lip and slipping into her mouth, eyes darkening when she sucked on it, "Patience. Remind me of that, in case I forget." Sabrina nodded, releasing his digit with a pop, and he pushed her backward, mouth clashing into hers when her legs met the edge of his bed. The soft matress engulfed her body as he settled over her, hand coming to rest beside her head to keep his weight off her while the other traveled down her stomach and slipped inside her for a brief moment before retreating. Her palms braced against his chest, running over the hard planes as her thighs fell open more, urging him to act. Anticipation swam within her when his fingers grasped his lenght, his tip brushing across her wetness a couple of times before finally pushing in slowly despite how wet she was and the desire she could see in his eyes.

A stray piece of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she smoothed them away, muttering, "Fill me up already." "I'm trying to be patient here. Not embarrass myself.", his expression was focused, like he refused to fully give in, act on his urges, let his composure slip. "Fuck patient. Better yet, fuck me as promised." He blinked, considering her words before thrusting all the way in and ripping a moan out of her as her walls enveloped him, and more followed when he began to move. "I'm starting to think going after the Deputy tonight wasn't the worst idea I've had to date.", he groaned against her mouth while at the same time he threw her leg over his shoulder, sinking in deeper into her at the new angle. "He sure would die laughing if he knew how the night unfolded after I broke you two apart." "He'd be obnoxious about, wouldn't he?", he chimed in, "Probably claim it was what he had planned all along to get me back for the previous time."

She couldn't help but smile at his annoyance, "Possibly." "Most definitely.", John insisted, pairing his next words with a hard thrust, "I couldn't stop thinking about you today." "Yeah?" She did her hardest to match his movements as a climax began to build within her, and her legs parted to take more of him. "Yes.", he gritted out, a giggle escaping her at the memory of Calahan's theory about his habits in bed, "Something amusing, Sabrina?" "No." There was doubt in his gaze, but he let her answer slip, emphasizing each word with a rock of his hips, "First time I saw you up close… I imagined it so many times." Her eyes widened at the bold confession and idea he had been thinking of her to begin with, "For how long?" "Since you moved here, but I had to be good, telling myself I wasn't missing anything."

In ways Hartley had been right about the signs and his theories about John's frustration. Regret slipped over his features, prompting her to cup his bearded cheek, "I'm here now." "That you are, and I plan on making up for that lost time.", he said with conviction, slowing his pace as his hand slipped between them to rub her clit. With a couple of flicks across it paired with his thrusts, the release she could feel twisting and twirling inside her came to a crescendo. His name rolled off her tongue, causing him to smirk while he continued to move, head dipping down to whisper in her ear and sending a shiver all over her body while her hands fisted the satin sheets beneath her, "Think you can come again before I do?"

Minutes later she found herself completely spent, laying snuggled in the crook of his arm while her fingers traced a lazy pattern across his chest. "Three times.", he noted with pride, hand running down her back under the soft covers, "I'm thinking we can break that record next time." Next time? Sabrina ignored the off-hand comment, assuming he hadn't meant anything by it, that he was just still basking in his own climax after demonstrating how dead set he was on holding off until he couldn't physically anymore. "Should I expect you to show up at the Sheriff's tomorrow?" "Today.", he corrected her, "And no, Deputy. I promised, didn't I? Hartley is off the hook until whatever he does next comes back to bite him." Her grin was concealed against his neck and she placed a kiss on his skin, "Thank you."

"Does that mean you're due to work in few hours?" "Mhm.", she hummed absently, "Why?" "I might pay you a visit instead.", his caress was slowly lulling her to sleep, especially with how relaxed she felt as she laid in the embrace of someone considered enemy of the County. When she said nothing, he took her silence as agreeance to his idea, adding, "We could see that the theft case gets closed." Her fingers froze against his chest as it was toying with the metal key nestled between his pecks, eyes lifting up to meet his baby blues, "I never opened one, you wanted to handle things yourself, remember? Play detective." "I will think of something else.", he said nonchalantly, "Like my truck's slashed tires… All four of them, a serious enough offense." "John." "Yes?" "This…", she paused, wondering what she had gotten herself into, "it can't happen again."

It was then that she got her first confirmation he had been serious upon mentioning 'a next time', coming in the form of a determined look he gave her before uttering out, "We shall see about that, Deputy." The same one he wore each time he argued with Whitehorse, refusing to back down no matter how much the Sheriff tried to placate him. If how impossible to shake off he had proven to be when it came to Calahan, she didn't dare think what it would take for him to give up after their night together. A part of her didn't know if she wanted him to, no matter how disastrous the consequences promised to be.

Tagging, @adelaidedrubman @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @onehornedbeast @theelderhazelnut @cassietrn @madparadoxum @voidika @corvosattano @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @florbelles @g0dspeeed @aceghosts @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @the-silver-chronicles @nightbloodbix @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @harmonyowl @jillvalentinesday @shegetsburned @sstewyhosseini and anyone with something to share <3

[swordmaid]

the waitress when he sees me is sooooooo act 2 hag romance shri'iia pov SPECIFICALLY. bc she gets her diabolical crush. bc surprise after spending how many years isolated, she gets the chance to spend time with someone who actually listens to her, who actively wants her company, it is really not a surprise that she fell. and she fell hardddd. which was his plan all along but anyway, and i like the idea of shri'iia being kind of embarrassing about that crush because she wouldn't realize what she's doing until someone points it out. she won't realize she's prioritizing him! or she lights up when he's talking to her! or she's offering to do all sorts of kind gestures for him (shri'iia??? doing kind things even??) because the kind of love that she's used to is the all consuming, all devoting kind, and not this one where it crept up to her slowly. she doesn't recognize what this is frankly, only that she feels a bit giddy when he's next to her and she finds herself laughing a lot around him. it's like that gif of zendaya doing that cringe dance and tom holland is next to her you know the one. it's just embarrassing!!! but she wouldn't know what she's doing until someone points it out.

anyway back to ^ when he sees me, [or worse he could be very nice, have lovely eyes. and make me laugh. come out of hiding. what do i do with that? oh god what if when he sees me, i like him and he knows it? what if he opens up a door and i can't close it? what happens then? if when he holds me, my heart is set in motion, i'm not prepared for that i'm scared of breaking open but still i can't help from hoping to find someone to talk to. who likes the way i am. someone who when he sees me, wants to again.] <-- shri'iia!! to me!!! because i think she gets scared towards feelings like that, actual genuine REAL feelings since she hasn't....really....experienced it before. like a love that isn't full devotion, something that doesn't swallow her whole? her love was really in the form of her own devotion, and servitude was the way that she expresses her love and she expects to be treated in the same vein but in a scenario where someone actually likes her for her, and not for what she can do with them? they like her genuinely. her own personal self - that's what they like? she doesn't know how to handle that. she's scared of it, even. it's so new to her but my goddd she wants to try..!! be brave for ones..!! they already have such a grip on her being that she would like to have them too if they allow her...!!!!!!!