#jacob owns your ass now rook

[momomomma2]

Oh my goddd omega jacob 😍😍 pleasee. You could do it with 5 or idk writers choice? The idea of big strong buff jacob being an omega is so good

I suppose if you’re gonna twist my arm about it ♡ (￣З￣) hope ya like it nonners!

Rook is fully aware of how stupid it is to follow his nose. Especially this deep in the Whitetail Mountains. He’s been warned against it time and again, Grace smearing Vicks beneath his nose to scramble his senses any time they’re in the Holland Valley, Sharky setting so much on fire in Faith’s region it smells like ash and flames instead of Bliss or Omega.

But he’s not in those regions right now and whatever scent he’s catching on the wind smells so good. Like gunpowder and the sharp clear of darkness. He doesn’t know what Omega is out this far, most of them either turned Peggie or flocking to Fall’s End once it was liberated, but he should probably find them.

And that’s Rook being practical. Thinking with his brain instead of his knot. He’s not being a shitty overbearing Alpha about this but any Omega that’s in Jacob’s region needs to get gone and fast. He doesn’t even want to think about what an Alpha like Jacob would do to a helpless Omega.

The scent thickens as Rook creeps up on a house, little more than a shack, really, hidden in a thick grove of trees. He motions to Peaches and she’s off, instantly leading the Judges that had been lingering outside on a merry chase through the surrounding forest. He walks slow, taking care of where he sets his feet, and has to brace himself for a split second before he opens the front door.

God, it smells so fucking good. Better, stronger, up close like this. His cock twitches without his permission, starting to thicken behind his zipper even as Rook glares down. He can’t control it much, the normal response to an Omega apparently very close to their heat, but it’s annoying. He’ll have a hell of a time now convincing the Omega he’s no threat when he steps inside already half-hard.

Whatever. Problem for future Rook.

Rook twists the knob, pushing the door open, hand cautiously on his gun as he steps out of the sun and into the darkness of the interior.

“Hello? Don’t be scared, I’m not here to hurt you. My name is Rook, I’m a Deputy with the...Sheriff’s...Department.”

The only response he gets is the click of a gun’s safety being switched off. Rook stares ahead, hand falling limply from the door knob back to his side. It feels a bit like the Earth is sliding out from under his feet, crumbling and prepared to send him into the abyss.

Because the Omega at the other end of the gun, the Omega who’s scent has him hard in his jeans, is Jacob fucking Seed.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Close the goddamn door.” Jacob snarls at him, teeth bared, ready for a fight despite the sweat on his brow and his half-naked state.

The gun doesn’t waver from him as Rook complies, closing them in together, the scent so cloyingly thick now Rook tries to breath in through his mouth and avoid dragging any more into his nose. It backfires in the worst way, clinging and heavy on his tongue, sweet and sharp like whiskey that goes down too smooth. Jacob must be so close to his heat it’s unbearable if the scent is this powerful and he hasn’t been here very long if the lack of nesting is any indication.

Something in Rook whines at the sight of an Omega so unprepared for a heat, left defenseless and alone during this time. Even if an Omega doesn’t have an Alpha to service them, they have others typically. Other Omegas or even Betas, cuddling close, satisfying the intense need to be touched and held.

Jacob has no one.

Correction: Jacob had no one.

“So all the Seeds are Omegas?” Rook asks, eyes flickering between the barrel of the gun still raised and Jacob’s face.

“Shut up.” Jacob snaps. “We’re not fucking talking about this. You’re turning around and walking back out that door or I’m putting a bullet in your head.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to help.”

Jacob snorts, something dark in his eyes. But the gun drops and Rook takes a cautious step closer.

“Heard that shit before. Just help. Like I fucking need it.”

“Omegas without some form of comfort during their heat can face emotional and physical backlash.” Rook recites, pages from a hundred medical books flashing through his mind. “Normally, I’d be all for you getting exactly what you deserve, Jacob. But now…”

“What? Because now you know I’m an Omega suddenly it’s different?” The gun snaps back up once more and Rook’s too close now, the shot wouldn’t miss and it’d hit something important no matter where Jacob aimed it. “Big bad Alpha swooping in to save the damn day? I told you. You. Are. Not. A. Hero.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not an asshole. You’re not going to be okay if you go through this heat alone.”

“I’ve gone through other heats alone.”

“Oh, yeah, and you’re the picture perfect example of Omegas being totally fine afterwards.” Rook clicks his tongue, agitated, strung too tight, teeth a little too ready to be bared. “Absolutely. My mistake.”

Jacob pauses before he laughs. Head tipped back, barrel moving a bit, expression softening from the painful tightness it had before. Rook chances sitting down on the edge of the bed Jacob’s sprawled in, carefully taking short breaths, a grin on his face as well. He knows it’s the heat making them both stupid, lowering their defenses. They’ll both regret it later, once this is over and Rook is back to making Jacob’s life hell and Jacob’s busy trying to drag him back into the red-black-pain of “Only You.”

But for right now…

“No one needs to know.” He says softly, Jacob’s eye watching him like a hawk as he sets a hand on his bare ankle, thumb rubbing mindless circles. “I won’t tell anyone. Know you’ve hid it for long enough no one would fucking believe me anyhow.”

It all makes so much sense. Why Jacob chose the mountains, where the air is harder to catch a scent in. Why he surrounds himself with Alphas, shares their scent so well it’s like it’s his own. Why he has the Judges and the constant smears of dirt and oil on his skin, to distract and disorient.

Jacob did a damn good job of pretending to be an Alpha and had Rook never found him like this, he would still believe he was one.

“Shit.” Jacob groans, lowering the gun seemingly for the final time, setting it aside. “You’re such a pain in my ass. Couldn’t you just fuck off?”

“Nope. I’m persistent.” Rook hums for a second, rational thinking breaking through the haze of heat scent. “But I can...wait outside, if you want? Or across the room? Stand guard instead of being in here with you, if that makes it easier?”

There’s something dark in Jacob’s eyes as he regards him silently for long moments. Considering, re-aligning, replacing an old opinion with a new one. He’s still clear minded, obviously, and he’s thinking hard enough Rook can almost hear him. And then his mouth splits into a grin that sends shivers down Rook’s spine that has nothing to do with the heat.

“Oh, no. You don’t get off that easy. You wanna be a fucking pain and track me all the way up here? You can lend a hand, Alpha.” Jacob tips his head, the perfect mockery of an Omega’s sweet submissive gesture that looks all wrongwrongwrong on his body. “Bet you have one hell of a knot, huh? Been a while...you might have to be gentle with me.”

He laughs again, like his own joke is the most hilarious thing he’s ever felt, and Rook doesn’t laugh along this time. He can’t. He’ll do what Jacob wants because he’s pretty sure at this point, with Jacob’s heat slowly setting in and his brain losing most of its ability to think past mountfuckbreed he’s not going to be able to say no. He doesn’t really want to say no.

But he gets the distinct impression he just traded one set of cages for another sort.

[carrioncrows-readers]

You may not be good at a lot, but damn if you don't know business and numbers.

Content Warnings: major content warning for sexual harassment, explicit violence

When Jacob first brought you to the brothel, you thought he'd genuinely lost his mind — you made it quite clear you weren't interested in fucking him for money. With his arm around your shoulders, you were prepared to make quite a lot of fuss if he tried anything — but he didn't. Instead, he offered you a bookkeeping job for steady pay, with room to take "freelancing" on commission should you so desire. It was unexpected. It was — nice. The place is nice. A bit gauche, and good lord, those curtains are tacky, but you didn't expect prostitutes to be so…

Well.  Nice.

Come to find out, the woman who left a lipstick stain on Jacob's cheek (you aren't jealous; you aren't) is named Jenny. Jenny is in the elected position of being madame (you didn't know madames were elected?) of the establishment. Which also happens to be the name of the brothel itself. The Establishment. Tongue-in-cheek, but effective.

She's full-bodied and impossibly soft, brown hair piled into curls on top of her head. The pearls she wears are gifts from clients, apparently, and it's become so much of a running joke that for her birthday, the girls saved up to get her a new set of pearl earrings for fun. You have no idea why she wears them all at once.

She peers over your shoulder as you scribble in the ledger, writing down dates and numbers, trying not to get a headache putting it all together. Unfortunately, you haven't had time to sharpen up your sums.

"Ms. Jenny," you glance at her from the corner of your eye, looking for a way to fill the silence since no one is murdering the pianoforte, "can I ask why you haven't done the bookkeeping yourself?" She hums and smiles at you. You notice dimples in the roundness of her cheeks, like craters on the moon.

"Well, dearie, it's because I can nary read nor write. Neither can any of the others — been meaning to hire a bookkeeper for a bit, just never got 'round to it, I suppose." Suddenly and for, of course, no reason at all, you want to disappear into the floor. You should have guessed. Now you feel awful.

You look at your notes. You had all the girls tell you a rough estimate of their earnings for the past six months; some were more accurate than others, but you get the feeling that Jacob just wanted to find you something to do. He doesn't take a massive percentage anyways; usually, it fluctuates depending on how much they've earned that month. Always enough for a comfortable living after expenses, always favorable towards the brothel residents. You've no idea why, just that he somehow manages to supplement his own income enough that it doesn't put him in the red.

"I see," you say, pausing to add up all the earnings for July, minus overhead. Jenny leans in with her eyes narrowed and pokes your side, making you jump so high your ass almost hits the ceiling.

"You're a right hard one to read you are; what's that supposed to mean? Hm?" She pokes you again, and you feel your cheeks burn bright red.

"Nothing! Nothing, I just — felt terrible for asking, I suppose.  Ow."  You rub your side — does the woman have knives for fingers, or is your skin just made of paper? She pokes your arm — definitely knife fingers.

"Well, no harm done."

You sit quietly, shuffling papers in the ledger until everything is tight and up to date — it's not doing too terribly for a Whitechapel brothel. Still, there are some improvements to be made — namely, the settlement of customer debts.

How ironic that you have become the creditor now.

You set your pen down and lean against your steepled fingers, a plot crawling up the back of your mind and settling in. You ask Ms. Jenny, since she is much more familiar with the Rooks than you, to find you a few burly men. And to tell them to bring weapons. Blunt ones.

This is your job now — you'll be damned if you're not going to do it well. Besides, this isn't something you should bother Jacob with.

It isn't tricky to track down your debtors; one look at you smiling in your silks and velveteens, a train of rugged brutes behind you, and people scrape the ground to tell you where your targets live. They know what's coming, and they're not eager to try and quell the storm. You knock very politely on the door to an apartment in a run-down shack of a building, watching it crack open a hair's breadth. That is all the opening your boys need — they muscle in and push Mr. Curtis to the ground. You ignore him swearing to shut the door, folding your hands in front of your stomach.

"Mr. Curtis! I believe we have business."

"I don't know what you're fucking talkin' about," he spits. A simple nod of your head is all the excuse one of your enforcers needs to start walloping Mr. Curtis about the head until he begs you to stop him. You do, the smile on your face ever so slowly becoming a genuine manic grin.

"You owe my employer quite a bit of money. Do you have a wife, Mr. Curtis? I assume not if you visit brothels so often, but I wouldn't put it past you to cheat, either." Curtis rolls onto his side and covers his weeping nose, and you're fascinated by the slow drip-drip-drip of red into a puddle on the floor. "You have one month, which I find very generous. Can you read?" You don't receive an answer, just a low groan of pain that sends a tingle up your toes; you pull a piece of paper out of your pocket, the ink already dry as you sit it on a side table. On it is a sum of money, a date, and Curtis' name.

You leave him to lick his wounds, damn near skipping out into the darkened street. You visit three more houses in short order before returning to the brothel to see Jacob leaned over the intake desk, talking with Jenny. They both have lit cigars between their fingers. You had no idea Jacob smoked. He turns his head, and you suddenly feel self-conscious of where you've been.

"Done terrorizing the whole of Whitechapel?" He asks, but he doesn't sound unangry. Not that it doesn't stop you from worrying that he's simply putting on an air of calm. You quail and fiddle with the ends of your gloves, staring at your shoes.

"I apologize-"

"Think nothing of it," he says and comes over to pat your shoulder. "Debts need to be paid, and I appreciate you looking after my people. Your people now, too, I guess." Your people. You stare at Jacob and his toothy smile around his cigar, his hand still settled on your shoulder like it belongs there. You clear your throat and shrug it off, hurrying to the desk to note down when your debtors are supposed to send in their payments. It's mostly just to keep your hands busy.

Your people.

You've never really belonged to a group before. You exist in the gray strata between the middle class and the aristocracy, scathingly referred to as the  nouveau riche  by your would-be peers and mistrust by the working people of London, you belong nowhere. Unwelcome in the clubs and symposiums of the genteel, nor the pubs and coffeehouses of the mercantile caste. You didn't even have that many friends among the newly rich, either. Even for them, you were too…  off.  Violet Morvell was someone who tolerated you enough to call you acquaintance. Or so you thought.

The idea of having people is foreign and exciting, and terrifying all at once.

***

Your time at the brothel is well-spent. You buy yourself a math primer with the salary you get and brush up on your sums. With that knowledge in hand, you are brutally efficient with the finances of The Establishment. You set up a sign-in sheet and record every name that comes through the door, much to the patrons' shock and chagrin. The burly doorman you recently hired on is insistence enough they give you their real names, which in and of themselves are insurance. Occasionally he has to throw out a tirading customer, but they usually come back for their fix of unfortunate women. Sex, you suppose, is at the root of most vices.

At the end of the month, all four of your debtors turn their money into your capable (you hope) hands. You didn't have to visit them a second time — they either respect Jacob Frye too much, or they're too terrified of him to keep skimping on his money.

You begin educating a few of the girls on manners, etiquette, and how to properly play a pianoforte without sounding like they're torturing a cow. When you suggest that the brothel start serving tea and coffee to waiting customers, Ms. Jenny happily converts one of the rooms into a small kitchen. It makes more overhead, but in the end, the payout is astounding — it makes the patrons feel special, and men who feel special are pleasantly inclined to give more in terms of tips. Pun intended. Jacob would be proud of that one, you think.

It also attracts wealthier clientele, whom you are more than happy to charge extra for the pleasure of pretty company. The Establishment prospers with you holding the purse strings; you almost dare yourself to feel proud. The Rooks have taken to calling you  bookie,  of all things. Sometimes they even invite you out for drinks.

You've never had a nickname before. You think you might like it.

The English winter drudges on and turns into an English spring, and you settle into a rhythm. You moved into an apartment in Whitechapel, a nicer one (in comparison — it's still poverty when set beside how you used to live, but you think you're slowly acclimating to it) closer to work. You spend most of your time with Ms. Jenny and the girls anyway — most nights, you find yourself passed out at your desk until Ms. Jenny shoos you to a couch in a dark corner by the stairs. She begins to insist that you call her Jenny, just Jenny — but that seems like a breach to you, a line you're just not ready to cross yet, no matter how many times she covers you with a blanket and lets you sleep in the receiving room.

At the end of every month, you meet Jacob in a pub to hand over his cut and go over the ledger. He always lingers to talk with you after, and you've gotten to know him, you think. As much as you can know someone who somehow manages to head both a crime syndicate and an alleged, shady reactionary freedom movement. At least that's what you can glean from the whispered conversations he's had with you when you ask after it.

"I think I know that look," he says, pointing his glass at you, "what are you thinking about?"

Damn him and his sharp eyes — you really must be more careful about your expressions.

"I realize that I don't actually know you at all," you say, swirling your glass around in your hand to slosh the wine inside. Frye's response is a dry chuckle and little more than that, grabbing the bottle of wine and refilling his own cup. You know he's not partial to wine. You know he prefers milds to bitters and finds that lager doesn't have the malty taste he enjoys, but he drinks it when he goes to Evie and Jayadeep's. But beyond that? He may as well be a ghost to you.

"Perhaps that's for the best," he says. You watch him chug half his cup before he sits it down again, wipes his mouth, and clears his throat. You sit your glass down, a companion piece. You'd threaten to kick him over not savoring it, but the wine they serve here isn't worth savoring.

"Do you have any hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" He seems utterly baffled by the idea.

"You know — things you enjoy. That you do on your off time."

"I think it's so incredibly, endearingly bold of you to assume I have off time." He smiles and then leans his chin on the heel of his hand and makes a show of thinking. "I do enjoy a good game of cards."

"Does that count as a hobby?"

"Why wouldn't it? Not everyone can afford to learn croquet or whatever they teach at Fancy Lads and Lasses School for Fancy Lads and Lasses." That stings — you take a drink of wine to lessen the bruise that puts on your ego, and Jacob visibly softens with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. That was unkind of me."

"No — no, you're right." You look down at your hands, smooth and uncalloused, and rub your thumb against your palm to keep them busy. "I'm coming to learn that the world is very different from what I thought."

You don't know why you said it. Or why Jacob Frye touches his fingertips to yours after a long, pregnant pause. You startle, and you look up to see him with that softened smile.

"It's a lot to take in." He pulls his hand away; you find yourself missing the brush of it. Your fingers curl into your palms of their own accord.

"When did  you  first learn about all this Assassin and Templar business?" You ask.

"About four minutes after Evie, right out of the womb. We were raised in it. Our parents were both Assassins, so were our grandparents, probably their grandparents too. It's a good thing we keep dying young; otherwise, we'd be twice as inbred as Her Majesty and company." You gasp.

"That is the queen you're insulting!"

"She's a right shit old bird, is what she is," he plants a hand on his chest, looking wounded. "She almost took Evie's knighthood! Because we dared ask politely for her not to steamroll over all India and probably gleefully kick puppies in the process."

"Evie was knighted?"

"Henry and I too, but I didn't want the damn thing."

"You're a  knight?"  He curls his lip, topping up your glass and sighing. He nods his head as though it's a burden, and you snort into your wine glass. The dismay strangely suits him — he doesn't seem the type to want or even know what to do with a knighthood. You can't imagine him in a suit and medal either, no matter how hard you try.

You're about to ask him what his parents thought about him being here when someone grabs a chair and muscles their way to your table. You're pushed damn near into the wall, scowling and moving if only to keep your wine from spilling. You recognize the idiot who stuck his nose in — his name is Smith, and he's a bastard.

You've had to throw him out of The Establishment more than once; you'd entertain the idea that he has some sort of vendetta against you, but he's not worth the effort of thinking about. He downs his bottle of lager and sits it down onto the table, swaying in his seat. His eyes are bloodshot under the greasy, unwashed blond mop of his hair. He grins at Jacob with all his teeth after he greets him warmly. Loudly.

You cow in the corner as the whole bar turns to look at your table, trying to hide in your skin. For the most part, Jacob seems annoyed. Still, he greets Smith with the impatient smile of a father whose child interrupted an important meeting. You can see a muscle twitch in his cheek when Smith leans on you, his hand wrapping like an uncomfortable snake around your waist.

Your heart freezes, and every muscle you own goes rigid like stone as he spreads his palm over your hip.

"Didn't know you visited the Judies, boss! How much does ol' bookie go for these days? Gold or silver?" You grip your wine glass until your knuckles threaten to split, hot behind the ears as he leans in. His breath smells like a month's worth of stale beer. You fix him with your eye and pull your lip away from your teeth, speaking through a tight jaw. Usually, that is enough to get the handsy ones to back off; not tonight, apparently.

"You know very well that I work the desk. Nothing more, Mr. Smith."

"Yeah, with that stick up your arse, I bet you don't get many Johns. No room." He winks at Jacob, who simply sits and lets you wallow in your misery, the smile gone from his face. You look at him, pleading, as Smith leans even further in and plucks your wine glass out of your hands. You can't move. You can't stop him.

"Aw, c'mon, poppet! Give us a smile." Jacob grits his teeth until his jaw is white, a warning snarl curling his lip away from his teeth.

"That is  enough,  Smith."

"What? Boss, I'm jus' havin' a little fun. Hazin' the greenies, you know how it is." Smith turns back to you, leering ever closer, the rank of his breath falling across your cheek. "You're having fun, aren't you, darling?" The world melts away, candle wax as his hand travels down to rest on the outside of your thigh. You can only think of  Thomas Fucking Morvell.  His hand around your waist. It feels so suffocatingly like he's there instead of Smith, and something-

Something in you.

Snaps.

You think you might be seeing yourself outside your body, your hand wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle as you slam the motherfucker into his big mouth. It explodes in a haze of glass. The force pushes him backward, out of the booth, onto the floor, and he covers his bleeding face with his hands and screams, screams, screams.

"You stupid fucking cunt!"  Smith wails more obscenities at you, but you aren't listening. Your ears ring. The bottle feels oh-so-right in your hands, perfect. Jacob stands when you do, eyes wide and eyebrows high, but he's not quick enough to stop you from straddling Smith's chest and grabbing his lacerated jaw with your hand. Glass cuts into your fingers. He stares up with one eye swollen shut with blood and the other ballooned in horror. You raise the shattered, razor-sharp bottleneck over your head. You feel like an animal.

You wish you could say something clever — but your teeth are pressed so tightly that your words wither and die at the pass. Smith shrieks when your arm falls towards his eyes in a violent arch.

Aren't you having fun, poppet? Gimme a smile.

Something firm and solid stops your arm and wrenches you up with so much force you spin, and the bestial part of you uses the momentum to try to punch out at whatever's caught you. You've never thrown a punch in your life, but by God, are you going to throw one now. Something grabs that arm too.

You force yourself to refocus, panting hard and covered in blood from a million tiny cuts, splattered in Smith's gore and stale beer.

Jacob is staring at you, holding your wrists tight and firm to keep you from hurting someone else — or yourself. Then, finally, the horror dawns on you that the bar — the entire bar — is staring at you. You drop the bloodied bottleneck; your chest feels like it's going to implode. And yet Jacob keeps staring.

"You," he says, more to himself than you, "are full of so many interesting surprises."

***

You are cleaned up, bandaged, and taken to a private room above the bar. You spend minutes (hours, feels like) pacing. Back, forth — back, forth. You chew at your bandages and lament that your nails are covered, gnashing like a beast to try and bite them to the quick.

When Jacob opens the door, you want to throw yourself at his feet.

"Jacob," your voice wobbles, your breath coming out in short gasps, "I am so, so sorry-" He cuts you off with a raised hand.

"No, I'm sorry."

...What?

Whatever for?

You stare in stunned silence while he rubs the back of his neck. "You were obviously uncomfortable, and he just — kept touching you. And I didn't stop him. I'm sorry."

"You — You told him to stop." You want to laugh. This is a trick — this has to be a trick.

"That is not enough." He sighs. "Considering I know what it feels like." He grimaces at the floor, arms crossed, and you collapse back to sit on the bare mattress, hearing the frame creak its protest under your weight. The two of you exist in oppressive quiet until Jacob pipes up from the door.

"But — that was impressive, back there. And you've shown a lot of initiative and drive these past few months. I think you should join us — the Creed." It sounds like a speech he's rehearsed for months, shocked into pulling it out now at the most inopportune of times. It's damn-near comical, but you can't bring yourself to laugh.

"Again, with your crazy cult of conspiracy theorists." You sag, running a hand over your face. "Fine. I'll join you. What else do I have to lose?" The silence that follows is awkward and strange, so you try to fill it with conversation. "What did you mean when you said you knew what it felt like?" Jacob leans against the wall, watching a patch of the floor behind you with great interest. It takes him a moment to speak, but he sounds distant. Weather vaned to a place in history far away.

"His name was Maxwell Roth."

"The old leader of the Blighters? The one that set fire to the Alhambra?"

"The very same." You try to conjure him in your mind from what you remember. You come up with a shadowed figure in a mask and a cruel grin; you only know that he was much older than the two of you. You pull your knee to your chest and block out the thoughts as Roth slowly mutates into a figure you know far, far too well, and hate far, far too much.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"Don't be — it was a lifetime ago."

"A year," you smile; it doesn't reach your eyes. "But those can feel like lifetimes, can't they?"

"Sure as the sun shits gold, are you right." He moves to sit beside you, his hands folded between his knees, back bent. "He — I loved him. At least I think I did, afterward. After he died. He'd call me  darling  and  my dear,  and he made me feel so — so damn good about myself — all the things I'd accomplished like I was special. But I think we both loved a man who was," he trails off, trying so hard to find the words. You finish for him, hauntingly familiar with the feeling.

"Different from who the real man was," you say. "You loved the image you had in your head." And afterward, Jacob fell in love with the nostalgia.

"Right." He pauses and then coughs, the tips of his ears red. "We never had sex. I mean, afterward, shit — yeah, there were men. But for Roth and me — he was just touchy-feely. I thought I didn't mind then, but looking back on it now…" You feel nausea coil in your stomach; it's like looking in a mirror.

You never would have known. Or maybe he's just not as broken as you.

But to hear that you're not alone — you can find some measure of comfort in that, even if you're horrified to see your doppelganger sitting by you. You ask Jacob if Evie knows — she doesn't. She never will, if he has anything to say about it; all she knows is that something changed when he killed Roth, maybe for better or maybe for worse.

You don't know what to do — so you hesitantly lean against him, hoping that you're a comforting weight. He lets you. You stare straight ahead to keep from crumpling like a paper crane.

"I'm glad you said yes," he says. "This isn't — it's not a life I ask you to join lightly."

"What do I have to lose?" You repeat yourself, finally feeling brave enough to glance up, watching Jacob light a match and catch fire to the end of a cigar — the same one he's been smoking for a week, you realize. He must be saving it. "Does your mother know you smoke those things?" Not that it'd make much of a stir — they're meant to be healthy for the lungs anyhow. It's just unfortunate about the smell.

"Didn't know her," he says, almost as a throwaway comment as he takes a deep drag of smoke. You jolt, the shock of it filling your bones. "What?"

"Nothing," you say, fiddling with the selvage of your bandages. "I simply realized that we have much more in common than I thought."

[writtenjewels]

Interruption

Maxwell hummed in pleasure as his lips connected with Jacob's. He spread his fingers out so he could touch as much of the Assassin's back as possible. His heart kicked in excitement feeling the younger man's weight shift on top of him. Grinning, his hands traveled farther down to grip onto his lover's ass. He had one cheek in each hand and pulled them apart, his cock stirring in anticipation.

But just then there was a knock at his door. The two men froze; their eyes met and Jacob shook his head. There was another knock and a muffled call of “Mr. Roth”. Jacob pressed his hands to Maxwell's shoulders to pin the older man down. They waited a few heartbeats but the knock persisted. “Mr. Roth, it's an emergency!”

“I should go see what they want,” Maxwell sighed.

“Come back soon,” Jacob urged him and reluctantly moved his hands away. Maxwell was even more unwilling to release his hold on Jacob's ass and slide out from under his lover, but he forced himself nonetheless. He grabbed a robe and put it on, thankful that he didn't have a full erection yet.

“This better be important,” he snarled at the Blighter on the other side of the door. The man blanched; Maxwell could see from his expression that the Blighter had an idea of what he just interrupted. After a moment the man spat out his news: a boat full of supplies had been sabotaged and left to burn in the water. There were no surviving Blighters.

Maxwell's lips twitched in amusement. He was used to getting reports like these; he heard one at least once every few days ever since Jacob and his Rooks asserted themselves in the city. As any such sabotage really only affected Starrick, Maxwell found the incidents delightful.

“I'll take care of it,” he promised the Blighter. “In the future, just write out the reports, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” the Blighter responded. Maxwell closed the door in the man's face. He heard Jacob's footsteps and smiled as the Assassin pressed up against him.

“I was listening in.”

“So you know you have your own bloody Rooks to thank for the interruption.” Jacob chuckled and kissed his neck. “Ah, my dear,” Maxwell purred, “I look forward to the day Starrick is out of our lives.”

“We may still be interrupted every now and then,” Jacob warned him.

“Hopefully not nearly so often.” Maxwell turned to face his lover. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

For the Assassin’s Creed ask meme... all of them 😂

I’m joking, of course. Do the ones you want to, I’m looking forward to seeing who is your favourite assassin 😉

A/n:....I’m gonna do it! Also all the video’s below are from my game play.

Favorite Historical Assassin:

100% Leonardo! I just love him so much and the relationship he shares with Ezio plus He is just so damn adorable.

annd Alcibiades....I romanced his ass so hard with Alexios.

Favorite Game:

I would say my favorite game would be between the second Assassin’s Creed { Ezio’s first game } Black Flag and Assassin's Creed III. 

Favorite DLC:

The Ripper DLC in Syndicate...100%. I loovve seeing a older Jacob and Evie and it’s awesome how the Incorporated Jack into the Assassin’s timeline. Though the whole Alexios going up against the Greek God’s was fun too.

Favorite Weapon:

The Hidden Blade, I love how each Assassin has their own blade.If I had to pick a favorite blade then I would go for Connor’s { His Pivot Blade is awesome}, Ezio’s and Jacob’s.

Favorite Supporting Character:

Adéwalé...man I just love this character, him and Edward had the best friendship, though I would also have to say James Kidd man both of their deaths broke me. 

Favorite Villain

Haytham Kenway and Crawford Starrick, I reaaally love these two. Hard not to like Haytham when you play as the man for half the game and Crawford is just amazing.

Least Favorite Game:

I’m sorry...but I would have to say Unity....I couldn’t even finish the game because of all the bugs. I did play the game on my Xbox360 so I may have to buy it for my PS4 to see if anything has change.

Least Favorite Protagonist:

Right now I would have to say Eivor...I mean I haven’t played AC: Vahalla much though I just think he is a bore.

Favorite Mission/Sequence:

I really love Assassin’s Creed III and all the mission’s in that game are really good{ dont know why that game gets so much hate }. Though the missions I enjoyed the most was the Battle Of Bunker hill and the whole Boston Tea Party Scene. I love how Connor just look’s at his father as he drops the tea into the Boston Harbor.

Odyssey  and Syndicate had a lot of really good Mission's two 

Best Quote:

“I see what you're saying Evie. We need The Rooks!”  

“You're not starting a gang called The Rooks!”

Favorite Plot Twist:

OKay....100% when Desmond kills Lucy....I just remember trying to stop it but once it was done...I just placed my Xbox controller down and walked off.

Favorite Modern-Day Assassin:

Shaun Hasting’s look at him...look at my boy! I just love him soo much.

Most Underrated Game:

Assassin’s Creed: III- Man I don’t get why this game get’s so much hate. 

Most Underrated Character:

Arno & Connor.

While I did not enjoy Assassin's Creed: Unity, Arno was still a great character.

Also Connor is just adorable....just look at these two amazing boy’s.

A game you think Ubisoft should remaster:

I’d like to see the original game get a remaster, it was the first so I think it deserves it the most.

Thoughts on the Movie:

We don’t talk about the movie.

F(uck), M(arry), or K(ill) with three AC Characters:

Fuck: Alexios

Marry: Ezio

Kill: Shay

Favorite Historical Setting:

While all the historical settings are amazing I would have to go with Odyssey or Origins.

The Greek and Egyptian gods are my favorite things 

Coolest Piece of Eden:

I’d have to say I’m stuck between the Apples of Eden,Spear of Leonidas and the Shrouds of Eden.

Favorite Historical Figure Cameo:

.

Syndicate had a lot of good ones like

Charles Darwin. Charles Dickens.

Favorite Female Character:

Evie! I love her so much

Scene that made you cry:

Achilles and Kidd’s death made me tear up but I think it was Phoibe’s death that really got me.

She was such a sweet girl and it was adorable by how much she looked up to Alexios and she was really part of his family. It’s heartbreaking, you can hear it in his voice by how much it broke the man and it stay’s with him through out the whole game.

It’s even worse when you see her in the DLC and Alexios has to send her away to the ‘heavens’ so she can be safe and happy.

The death Scene-

The Good bye scene from the DLC

Scene that made you laugh:

This mission...below { part of my AC: Odyssey playthrough }

Favorite Templar:

Haytham...I god damn love this man.

Favorite romantic relationship:

Alexios x Alkibiades

Favorite friendship:

Leonard and Ezio defiantly have the best friendship though I also love the relationship between Edward and his crew.

How many games have you played?  Which ones?:

Assassin’s Creed. Assassin’s Creed II. Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood. Assassin’s Creed III. {DLC included} Assassin’s Creed IV- Black Flag. Assassin’s Creed Unity. Assassin’s Creed Syndicate. { DLC included} Assassin’s Creed Rouge. Assassin’s Creed Origins {DLC -still playing } Assassin’s Creed Odyssey { DLC- Still playing.} Assassin’ Creed Valhalla { Currently Playing }.

[hibiscuswrites]

Jacob Seed NSFW Alphabet

**Sorry babies. I meant to have this up last night and I fell asleep 😕 ** 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He’s not overly lovey-dovey. He inspects you, makes sure that you’re ok. He can be rough sometimes, and sometimes he gets caught up in the moment and doesn’t recognize his own strength. So he checks you over after, looking for any bruises or bites. He cleans you up, never forgetting to playfully run the washcloth over your clit just a little too roughly so he can see you jump. Once you’re clean, he’s back next to you, tugging you into his side, having you rest your head on his chest or shoulder. He wraps one arm around you, thumb grazing over the skin of your back and arm. He doesn’t talk much other than to make sure you’re ok.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, it sounds odd considering how intense he can be, but he loves your back. Sure, your breasts and ass are easily close favorites, but there’s just something about your back that does him in. The curves and lines, the softness in some parts and the rigidity in others. He loves being able to lean forward when he’s taking you from behind and kiss long your spine when he’s being gentle, or bite marks into your shoulder when he’s not. He runs his fingers gently down your spine when you grind down on top of him softly and he rakes them down leaving angry red lines when you’re riding him like a wild bull. Your back is just his favorite.

On him, it’s hard to pick. Even though your body is different, to him a body is just a machine. Meat with a purpose that needs to serve practically. But now that he has you, his chest is his favorite because it’s your favorite. He sees how your pupils dilate when you look at it, how you trace your fingertips over it when you lay in bed together or even when he’s just standing in front of you. He loves the strength of it, the muscle and how so much power comes from it and that easily makes it his favorite.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

It’s a toss-up between finishing inside of you or on your tummy. There’s just something about seeing himself painted across your skin, the vulgarity of it plus how proudly you wear it. Finishing inside of you is up there too though. Now that he knows you’re completely his, he wants to make it known and putting a baby in you is for sure one way to do it. Granted, it’s the act that gets him off more than the actual prospect of being a father. It really just depends on the day.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s thought about fucking you in Joseph's church once or six times. He just loves the idea of it. He’s extremely hesitant to do it because he’d never want to disrespect Joseph, but the thought is definitely one that gets him going. It’s not too much of a secret though because he whispers it into your ear when he’s leaving the sermons with you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s got a little. He probably enjoyed his freedom when he finally got away from the Duncan’s and decided to enjoy life both then as a free man and as a soldier. Of course, it likely stopped when he was discharged and found himself homeless and now with all of his responsibility, sex wasn’t something that held importance until you. He likes to explore and find what you like so he can be good for you, and both his stamina and intensity will more than make up for any lack of experience he may have.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Taking you from behind period. Whether its doggy style or prone bone, he loves hovering over you, being in full control, having you submit to him. He loves towering over and calling the shots

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be playful and teasing if the moment allows. He’s never overly serious unless it’s a quickie or he’s teaching you a lesson. He likes to tease you, throw in light degradation if you’re into it and heavy degradation if you really love it. He will sometimes chuckle at you, usually when he finds a wet spot on your panties or when he gets you whining and pouting because you’re so needy.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s a mountain man. He will trim up just a little if he knows it’s becoming a red jungle, but it’s always more for your sake really. Enough to not be messy, but still noticeably clear that he’s a man. Ya know, the whole animal thing.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He can be romantic when he puts thought into it. He wasn’t given the privilege to experience relationships and intimacy on the levels that John and Joseph were. It takes a bit more work and thought for him and he’s romantic in how own way. Taking you for hikes, taking you hunting, taking you shooting. Those are ways that he bonds with you. Coming home with a deer slung over his shoulders for you to make stew is a romantic gesture in his eyes. He knows he is likely not the most romantic dude ever, but he does try, and he adjusts depending on what he sees does it for you. If he’s really in for the long haul, he’ll do what he has to do to provide you with the intimacy and romance that works for you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s got no problem rubbing one out on his one. He’s a busy man, has a lot on his plate. Not only is he the main protector when it comes to his brothers and Faith, but he’s also in charge of training those who are to protect the Project and that isn’t a job that he takes lightly. Whether Joseph is right or not, whether the collapse is coming or not, he has a job and he’s going to make sure that he does it well. That being said, he’s a man with needs and he doesn’t want those needs to get in the way of serving his purpose. He jacks off whenever he gets hard and you aren’t there, sometimes even when you are. He reserves sex for when he knows he has the time and availability and it isn’t uncommon for him to tell his men not to interrupt him for a little while then the need does strike.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, degradation, breeding kink, use of literal pet names

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He literally doesn’t care. At home? Cool. In his truck? Fine. On the floor in the woods? Alright. On top of his desk? A-Okay. When he wants you, he’ll have you, no matter where you two are. Now of course if that’s something that you aren’t into then he will go somewhere more suitable for you. If he had to pick a favorite, he’d probably go with the kitchen counter. He likes having you bent over, feet dangling, completely at his mercy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much. He’s so into you, always ready for you, he can get hard from your smile. You touching him softly, babying him even if he says he doesn’t like it, seeing you with a gun,

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He wouldn’t share you with anyone. He may be ok with someone catching a glimpse when he’s so hot for you he can’t bother to really hide, but over his dead body is another person going to have their hands on you, touching what’s his.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

It's 50/50. Sometimes he loves nothing more than having you on your knees for him, hearing you gag while he thrusts into your mouth, thumb reaching out to brush away a tear. But the others, being in your mouth doesn’t even occur to him because all he wants is to bury his face between your thighs and leave beard burns on the sensitive skin while he tastes you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s usually more rough and fast. Sometimes his pace will be slower, more about working his hips as opposed to pumping straight in and out of you, but the force behind it is often still that rough, deep technique that gets your thighs shaking.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s cool with them. Due to how busy he can be, he likes being able to take you quickly when he doesn’t have much time. Whether it’s you surprising him at the Center for lunch or offering yourself up in the morning before he heads out, he’s more than game to have a quickie. Sometimes, depending on how much of a dick Rook is being that week, he may have a handful of quickies with you just to relieve the stress and anger.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He loves to experiment. He loves trying new things, touching you in new ways, in new places. He’ll take you on his desk in the Center, on the floor in the woods, somewhere in or around John’s ranch just to piss him off. He isn’t nearly as put off by being discovered as the other two. Sure, he would never want someone leering at you and watching outright, but the thought and thrill of being caught do spice things up a little.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Though he may be older, his stamina is still very much that of a younger man. He still keeps in shape, works hard, and knows how to master mind over matter. Being in the sack is the same. He always makes sure to leave you satisfied and since he is a little old fashioned, he always makes you come first. But he has no issues trying to go again if you want. He includes excessive foreplay as well as denial, so encounters last for a good while.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s more of a “what do you need that for when you have me?” kinda dudes, but once he does include one in bed with you, he’s hooked. He loves using a wand on you until you’re begging him to take it away, or stroking himself while he sits in a chair, watching you try your best to satisfy yourself with the toy pretending it’s him. He gets off on it then, loving to include toys because he sees the frustration and how much you wish he was inside of you instead.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

On a scale of 1-10, good old Jake is a solid 13. He loves hearing you beg for him. He’s notorious for making you wait forever to come, only to force orgasm after orgasm from you once he does. He teases you physically and he teases you verbally. It depends on your taste and limits how far his verbal teasing goes. It can be mild and more condescending, “Look how wet you are, pup. Doesn’t take much does it?” to being more degrading and vulgar, “Such a little slut. Can’t even last a few minutes without needing to be stuffed full.” No matter what, he’ll find a way that works so he can tease.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make

His voice is quiet, low rumbles in your ear that makes shivers run down your spine. But his noises are much louder, full growls and deep moans that leave you feeling the vibration of his chest against you. He’s animalistic both in technique and vocalization during sex.

W = Wild Card (Random Headcannon)

He loves when you surprise him at the Veterans Center, perched up on his desk with no panties. You showing up anywhere with no panties is more than welcome but on his desk? Right there on top of his papers? Bare feet resting on his thick thighs while you spread yourself for him? As much as he likes to believe he doesn’t have any, it’s a weakness of his for sure.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

You know damn well he’s packing. He’s god BDE without trying and it isn’t without accuracy. Probably curves up just a little.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His drive isn’t the issue, its more a matter of time. He wishes he had more time and freedom because his drive is still where it was in his 20’s. It doesn’t take much to get him ready for you and not having sex a few times a week is rare. Even when he’s tired and just wants to sleep, he’s rather easy to work up.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It depends. Sometimes he’s out quickly, snoring before you even have settled your breath, while others he lays there forever, sleep evading him. Sometimes he reflects on you and your love and how different but good his life has turned out. On those nights sleep finds him easily. Sometimes his mind returns to the war, and Miller, the beatings he took as a child, and all of the suffering he endured so that he could find his purpose. On those nights, the sun is coming up once again and he’s barely gotten a wink.

FC5 @belle82devart​

General @a-dorky-book-keeper​  @jigsawlover10​  @titty-teetee​ @crushed-pink-petals-writes​ @felicity-x0​ @vibranium-soul​ @ateliefloresdaprimavera​

[chyrstis]

FC5 GFH Tag!

@sharky-broshaw​ and @shellibisshe​​ were lovely enough to tag me to see what my Dep would say as a formal FC5 Gun For Hire, and after spending most of the day thinking this over instead of writing, I think I’ve mostly nailed her down! ;)

Deputy Hana Vao

With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Whoa there, buddy! Aren’t you a sweetheart? God, I...I really wish Rae-Rae were here to say hi to you too, and see how good of a boy you’re being.”

Peaches: “I’m a cat person. I’m not a hundred percent sure it extends to being a big cat person, but I’m willing to try.” / *in a ridiculous voice while sneaking through the brush* “Who’s an adorable murder machine, yes, you are!”

Cheeseburger: “Whoever decided it’d be entirely possible and plausible for me to spend my free time hanging out with a bear, I’d like to give the biggest high-five to, because this? This is really fucking awesome.” / “I’ve always wondered if I’d have the chance to meet a local celebrity, and now I’ve met two! What are the odds of that?”

With other Guns for Hire

Sharky

*after inviting him* “Oh, now it’s a party.”

“So, apparently karaoke night at the Spread Eagle used to be a thing. You’ve been holding out on me! *both start trading stories about signature songs they used to pick, until they both settle on one and start singing along to it* *some of it’s good, most of it isn’t*

*after a fight* “That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Do it again.” / “Hey, Shark? How about you dial it back a little next time? It kind of got a little too close for comfort there.”

“You know what they say about any big bads, right?” *along with Sharky* “If it bleeds, we can kill it! *laughs* God, you’re the best.”

Grace

“Hey, Grace? I know you mentioned last time that I really need to work on the whole sneaking, and being quiet, and-” “Not throwing a block of C4 at every problem you see?” “...Shit. I knew I might’ve forgotten something. Let me get back to you on that.”

“Grace? If I offered you twenty dollars to shoot [a hat off of a scarecrow, a can off of a fence, the helmet off of a Peggie, etc]. Would you do it?” *Grace asks if she’s that willing to go broke* “Maybe. I still think that would be pretty cool to see.”

Hurk

*calls Hana Ms. V* “Hurk! I thought we agreed not to go with that one!” *he throws out a slew of nicknames each one more absurd than the last* “...Um, okay. Maybe that one’s not so bad after all.”

“Hey, I have to ask. What’s with the chimps?”

*calls Hana Depu-Vee and pretends to relay a top-secret message* Hurk, hon. We’re face to face. I’m looking right at you. We don’t need codenames right now.

Adelaide

“I...that’s definitely a description I never thought I’d ever hear. Or visualize.”

“Okay, so I’m only going to say this once, but...” *speaks at a mile a minute* “Fuck John, Marry Faith, and Kill Jacob, and there’s nothing left for Joseph, so just fuck him in general. Done and done.”

Nick

“I swear to God, if you ever ask me to fly Carmina again I’m going to crash her. Not on purpose, I’m just that damn bad at it, so please. I beg of you, don’t.”

“How’s Kim doing? If you two need anything at all, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Jess

“Jesus, you’re a hell of a shot. Shooting an apple off of someone’s head would probably be nothing, huh?” *Jess asks if she’s volunteering* “It’s not that you aren’t a badass, because you totally are, but you know how some ideas look fun at first pass, but are probably a disaster in the making? That? That would be one of them.”

In Combat

Seeing an enemy: “You got eyes on them?”

Sneaking:*snaps a twig* “Shit! ...Um, shit. Sorry.”

Killing an enemy: "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!” / *if you score the hit* “Holy shit, that was a shot!”

Reviving: “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” / “Hold on! Can’t have you dying on me now.”

Hurt: “Ow, motherfucker!” / “Jesus, walk it off. Just walk it off.” / *flamethrower, or Sharky* Shit! Nearly singed my hair...

Downed: “Really, really pissed that they made me bleed my own blood here.” / “Keep moving! Don’t worry about me! *pained sound* “Fuck!”

Driving

If asked to drive: “You sure? Well, buckle up and hold on tight. I promise I’ll try and be gentle.” / “God, this is really making me miss my bike.”

Reckless driving: “Jesus, now I know how Grace feels.” / “And here I thought you’d leave the stunt driving to old Clutch. I’m game if you are.”

Changing radio stations: *starts singing along if Barracuda’s playing* / *’if Oh John’ starts playing* “...Fucking asshole.” *sings an off-key, ‘bold and brave’ before making a sound of disgust*

Idle

“Hey, hon. How’re you holding up? Better than me, I hope, because I could really go for a cigarette. Might have to bum one off of Sharky the next time I see him.”

“You know, I’m not from around here. I’m from Detroit. Moved around a lot when I was young, so I don’t remember it well to begin with, but my mom took a lot of photos of it. Kept them all in a photo album for me to look at when I was older, and always told me we’d head back there someday to check them out again ourselves. ....Well, I’m about 95 percent certain that when the cult burned my apartment down, it might’ve taken that album with it. Pictures of those places. Of her. All of it up in smoke, just like that. So, here’s hoping there’ll be a Detroit left after all of this, depending on whether or not Joseph’s talking shit, or actually right. Because I’d really like to have a second chance to see all of that. And have a chance to honor her too.”

“I’m a city girl, so the silence out here is...it’s a little overwhelming. But I’d gladly take it over the sound of gunfire. This place is beautiful, and the kind of peaceful you don't really appreciate until it’s gone.”

Hard to believe I wouldn’t have ended up here at all if the Sheriff hadn’t taken a chance on me. He’ll say differently, but there’s a reason why Staci called me-calls me Rook, and why Joey always took the time to answer every single silly question I had. I didn’t have a whole lot of experience before heading here, and...they made it all worth the risk on my end too. Made me feel welcome when anyone else would’ve just shown me the door, and I’ll do damn near anything to get them back.

Location-Specific:

By any body of water: *voice pitched higher than normal* “Hey, you’re not-that’s looking pretty deep. Think I’ll um, hang close to the shore just in case.” *wanders around it, but never enters it*

At the Spread Eagle: *hanging close to either Mary May by the bar* *Mary May jokes about Hana spending more time talking to her than drinking* “Hey, I’m sparing you both the bad dancing and the bad flirting! Trust me, you don’t want to see either.” / *if by the jukebox in the back, can be found swaying to whatever’s playing*

After liberating the Radio Towers: “I really need to talk to Wheaty about getting Queen on the radio here, because we’re suffering from a real lack of that. Tell me you wouldn’t be ready and willing to kick all kinds of ass after listening to them for a bit.” / *near a Wolf Beacon while it’s blaring* “Jesus, Jacob really took a page out of every horror movie here, didn’t he? Note to self, stay far, far away from these at night.”

In the Henbane: “You want to trust your eyes. You also want to trust your ears, and every last bit of sense you’ve got, but here? You can't. And that honestly scares the shit out of me.” / “You see Faith too, don’t you? Right at the corner of your vision before you blink and she’s gone? Word of advice? Don’t approach her or talk to her. You’ll like what she has to say at first, but...not so much the wolverine taking a piece out of you afterwards.”

At Seed Ranch by the Boat Launch: *if present when Sharky drops the dingus line, she starts giggling until she snorts*

In Holland Valley: “Can you do me a favor? If you ever decide to do a little redecorating - like, say, make modifications to a giant, white three-letter sign up in the mountains - take me with you. Because pissing John off’s really what keeps me going, and lighting that ‘Yes’ sign up would be a thing of beauty.” / *later when John calls post-destruction she mouths, ‘Oh shit’ while 100% making this face:

Tagging: @amistrio @ma-sulevin @shallow-gravy​ @foofygoldfish @guileandgall​ @ofravensandgenesis​ @fadedjacket​ @seedlingsinner @teamhawkeye​ @redroci​ @risenlucifer​ @tomexraider​ @finefeatheredgamer​ @narcis-the-monk​ @scarlettkat86 @hawkfurze @raisinghellinotherworlds @fromathelastoveritaserum @shelliechen and anyone else that’s interested! I’d love to see your GFHs, so totally tag me if you do!

[nightwingshero]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAIGE

Happy birthday, hun!!! @joeyhxdson and I collaborated to bring you an awesome birthday gift! Em, you did fantastic as always!!! Such a beautiful background and you captured the girls beautifully!!!

Thank you @xbaebsae​ and @returnofthepd3​ for allowing me to include your lovely deps!!!!

I wrote a fic to go along with it, since I can’t be there to party with you, Em and I decided that it was important that our deps threw something together for Veronica. You’re a total sweetheart and my best friend. We love you and I hope you have an awesome 21st birthday!!! 💖💖💖💖

“Happy birthday, asshole.” Wren said with a smirk as she elbowed Veronica. She rolled her eyes at her best friend, swatting her on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, thanks.” Veronica replied sarcastically.

Wren hummed, taking a sip of her beer as she watched Mary May walk back to some other customers on the other side of the bar. “Any big plans?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Veronica fought the urge to sigh. Chances were that she would just go to her mom’s and hang out for a bit. She knew she would whip up a cake, despite her mom trying hard to keep it a secret. It wasn’t exactly a secret when she did it every year, but it warmed her heart at the thought behind it. “Maybe go see my mom, then rent a movie to watch with Olive.”

“Lame.” Wren threw her head back and groaned. Veronica shot her a look.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, you love my mom.”

“Yeah, but that means you’re getting cake without me. Also, why not throw a party?”

Veronica hesitated before pressing her own bottle to her lips and taking a drink. It wasn’t that Veronica hadn’t thought about it, it was just that…well, she didn’t really know what to do or who to even invite. She stopped having birthday parties after her dad left, and it wasn’t like she ever felt the need to start that back up again. But each year, as she contemplated, she would end up just doing the same damn thing.

It was the first birthday she was celebrating since Wren became her partner at the Sherriff’s Department. Wren was a bit older than her, by only a few years, and Veronica was worried at first that it would make a difference. But it really hadn’t. They became fast friends and had each other’s back. Wren was the voice of reason when Ronnie needed it and Ronnie always had a way of helping Wren loosen up a bit when it was called for.

Placing her bottle on the bar, she glanced at Wren. “I don’t know, I guess I just never get around to it.”

Wren threw her a look, her hair shifting and showing off her new blue flannel. “Says the person who makes sure that every single one of us is here on St. Patrick’s Day. You know how to throw a party.”

“I’m okay with drinking with my best friend.” Veronica turned away, fidgeting with her jean vest. “I got some new stuff from Sharky to smoke later, so I’m good.”

Glancing at her phone, Wren hopped off the barstool. “Hey, I have this really cool idea. Come on!”

“We’ve been drinking, Wren. Where the hell should we be going?” Veronica snorted and she knew she wasn’t wrong. They had been here as soon as Spread Eagle opened, Whitehorse being kind enough to give them the day to enjoy Ronnie’s day. To say they had a few would be an understatement, but Wren threw a mischievous look over her shoulder.

“Don’t tell me that Veronica Rook is scared?”

With a huff, Ronnie followed suit, calling to Mary May to keep their tab open. The brunette gave a triumphant smile and Veronica rolled her eyes. Stepping outside, she frowned as she watched Sharky jump out of his jeep, with a weird trailer hooked to the back of it, the loud barking almost making Veronica flinch. What the fuck was going on?

“Hey there, Shorty!” Sharky waved at her before adjusting his cap and turning to Wren. “It’s all ready. Whenever you are.”

“And he’s still at the station?” Wren asked, throwing him a worried glance.

“Well, that’s what Hurk said.”

Relief washed over her partner’s face. “Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah, what the hell is going on here?” Veronica finally cut in, causing Wren and Sharky to exchange glances. Wren shrugged, throwing Veronica a smirk.

“You remember when we had to arrest Zip at the farm a while back? And we had to run after him?”

Veronica wrinkled her nose. Of course she did. It hadn’t been that long ago, about three weeks if she had to guess. Her and Wren both had to chase the guy down, not only was he causing issues for the farmers, but he had a few counts of slander against him. John Seed, Grace Armstrong, and Adelaide Drubman being a few of his victims in that damn magazine he wrote.

He had taken one look at them before he had dropped his protesting sign and ran, jumping a fence and flinging mud as he went. They were right on his heels, trying their best to herd him in the pasture they were in, but they were almost certain he was on something. He had been seen hanging around Tweak the last few months, so it wouldn’t have been too shocking, and they later found out that they were right. But it was bringing him in that made Veronica cringe, because all three of them ended up in the mud, both deputies trying the best they could to keep the man down, and still, long enough to cuff him.

Veronica would’ve paid serious money for COPS to have been there to film it.

Or at least, that’s what she originally had thought. While her partner seethed in the driver’s seat on their way back to the station, Veronica couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. And she told her partner as such, adding that there was never a dull moment in Hope County, in which she received a withering glare from Wren in return. She had only shrugged. It wasn’t until they got to the station that her mood took a dark turn, with John Seed’s stupid smug face. She could still hear his damn taunting. It took damn near a week to remove all the mud from her hair.

“What about it?” Veronica asked, not pleased at the reminder of the incident.

Wren’s smirk twisted more, and Veronica immediately recognized the dark mischief in her eyes. “Are you ready for vengeance, my friend?”

Taking a step forward with her hands on her hips, Veronica narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Get in and you’ll find out.”

The brunette turned, taking the keys Sharky offered up, and hoped in behind the wheel. Veronica grumbled, wanting to go back into the bar for another round. She wanted to celebrate her birthday, not do…whatever the hell these two had in mind. And once she was buckled and ready to go, she turned to her best friend.

“Dude, seriously, what are we doing?”

“We’re going to break into John’s ranch and leave him a present.” She replied, finally, and Veronica’s eyes widened.

“We’re what?!” she gasped, both from shock and excitement. But being the cop that she was, Veronica felt the apprehension set in. “You know that’s illegal, right? What if we get caught?”

“Is it so illegal if I have these?” Wren fished a set of keys out of her pocket, dangling them in front of Veronica’s face. “Besides, didn’t you just say that you bought a little something from Sharky to smoke later?”

“That’s different!” It wasn’t. Not really, but Veronica was focused on the set of house keys that hung delicately from Wren’s pointer finger. “How the hell did you get John’s house keys?”

“It’s not at all different!” She snatched the keys back with a wicked grin. “And a lady never reveals her secrets.”

“Bold of you to call yourself a lady, Wren.”

“I’ve been called worse.” She teased, starting the car and putting it in gear. “Besides, if you stopped staring at John’s ass, you would catch on to the things that go on around you.”

Ronnie threw her head back and laughed as the wind gently played with her hair as Wren drove. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I can multitask.” Wren smirked with a shrug and Veronica laughed harder.

The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, Veronica giving up trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Wren wouldn’t say a damn word, and Ronnie knew it. Part of her was okay with allowing it to be a surprise, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. The idea that they were getting revenge was sweet enough. She couldn’t wait to see his damn face when they…well, when they did whatever they were going to do.

Ronnie didn’t know what to expect when they got to the ranch but being completely empty wasn’t it. Wren pulled off to the side, putting the Jeep in park and looking over. “Okay, I’m gonna jump out and guide you. You think you can back this thing up to the door?”

“Wren…” Ronnie started, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Just back it up! You’ll be fine!” Wren gave a bright smile and jumped out. Veronica huffed, climbing over, and adjusting the seat before shutting the door so she could use her mirror. With Wren’s guidance, she began to align and back the trailer up slowly to the double doors of John’s ranch. Finally, with Wren giving her the signal, Veronica stopped and put the car in park and shut if off.

She found Wren already unlocking the doors to the house as the barking continued. “You gonna fill me in now?”

“You know how John is a dog person?”

Veronica threw Wren a look as if she were insane. “No, he hates dogs. Him and Jacob were giving each other shit over some of the wolves that Jake was training at the F.A.N.G Center.”

“Exactly.” Wren breathed out, pushing the doors open, lining them up with the trailer as makeshift borders. “He loves them so much, we’re gonna leave him some.”

It was like her brain short-circuited. Ronnie could’ve sworn that she had heard Wren wrong, and she was trying to put it together. “You…holy shit!” she breathed out as a wide smile made its way across her face, her hands running through her hair as it all came together. “Oh my god, he’s going to be so pissed! Where did you get all the dogs?”

“Yeah, about that.” Wren looked sheepish. “They have some domesticated wolves up at the Center, the same ones that Jake was training and working with. They’re from that guy that had that illegal zoo, I think? Well, some of them got transferred here since they had the room. I called in a favor, and well…”

“Wolves. We’re going to put wolves in John Seed’s house?”

“Muddy wolves.” Wren corrected. “It rained, and the owners let them run along and play in the mud. Just for the occasion.”

“Remind me to never fuck with you.” Veronica laughed. “You wrathful ass.”

Her best friend scoffed as she approached the trailer. “Oh, like you’re any better.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should get matching wrath tattoos.”

“I suffer from more than just the one sin, Ronnie.” Wren laughed. “Alright, I’m gonna open this quick, and jump to the side. Make sure to keep the door steady, we don’t want any to get away. They’ll have my ass.”

“I gotcha.”

Ronnie grabbed a hold of John’s door, holding it in place as Wren unlocked the metal door. She was fast, opening the trailer door and getting out of the way. And it was a good thing, too. Wolves, as Ronnie learned, were hyper. They darted out, at least five of them, and into John’s ranch and they were caked in mud.

“Close the doors!”

Before the wolves had a chance to turn back around, they slammed the doors shut, Wren locking it quickly.

“Holy shit, I wish I had their energy.”

“They’re young.” Wren replied with a heavy exhale before throwing Ronnie a bright smile, her hands resting on her hips. She gave the front doors another thoughtful glance. “Still technically pups, I think.”

“Wren, puppies chew on things.”

“Hmm, yeah?” She twisted on her heel, finally facing Veronica with a curious look on her face.

Veronica gave a light scoff. “I’m pretty sure there are some things in there that they’re gonna chew on. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think John is gonna like that too much.”

Wren tensed, a crease forming in her brow as Ronnie’s words processed. Veronica bit her lip to try and hold back her laughter. She couldn’t believe it. Wren clicked her tongue, glaring at the ground with a sour look on her face, making Veronica lose it.

“Oh my fucking god! Of all the times you gave me shit for not thinking things through—”

“Shut up, Ronnie!”

The blonde doubled over, her arms wrapping around her abdomen as tears formed. “Oh, John is going to be so pissed! I can’t believe you didn’t even consider that!”

“Hey, it’s not like he isn’t rich enough to replace the furniture!” Wren insisted, throwing her hands in the air. “He can just buy more! And it’s not like he’s going to know who did it. Right?”

Veronica stood straight, wiping away her tears. “The man is a lawyer, Wren. I don’t think he’s stupid. No one else would dare do this shit.” She shook her head.

Wren huffed. “Well, he ain’t got proof. I was told to leave the trailer here so they could transport them back to the Center.”

They decided to leave it on the other side of John’s hangar, out of sight to not immediately tip him off. Veronica helped Wren unlatch the trailer, both working up a sweat from the summer heat. It was starting to get dark, but the humidity was still hanging heavy around them. Veronica sighed, hopping up on some black crates.

“I need a cigarette.” She groaned as she pulled the pack out of her vest pocket, putting one in her mouth as she lit it.

Wren opened the back of the jeep, grabbing a couple of beers and using her shirt to pop the tops. “I hear that. Have a beer, too.”

Veronica grabbed it, saying thank you as Wren leaned against the crates. Ronnie took a quick swig then sat it down beside her. Wren checked her phone again making Veronica roll her eyes. “Checking to see if you got any sexy texts?”

“Not likely.” Wren muttered, but Ronnie could see the light blush on her face.

“How’s Game of Thrones going? Did you get to the part where—”

Wren’s blue green eyes snapped to Ronnie’s blue ones, piercing her with a glare. “Don’t you dare ruin that for me, Veronica Rook, so help me god.”

She only laughed in response, taking a pull from her cancer stick. “I won’t ruin it, I promise. But hurry up, I wanna talk about it with you!”

“Tsk, I’ll get around to it eventually.”

“Which means you’ll finish it in a year.”

They both laughed and it stayed that way for a little while. Ronnie did know why they were just hanging around; she was starting to get antsy. John could come home any moment, and as fun as it would be to see his reaction, Ronnie didn’t wanna be the receiving end of that man’s rage. Pointing that out to Wren, she checked her phone, and agreed that it was time to go. Hoping in the driver’s seat, Wren sent a quick text, probably an update to the people at F.A.N.G Center, before they were on their way.

Pulling off to park, Ronnie eyed the bar suspiciously. There were more cars here than when they left, but it was strangely quiet. Never had she seen something like this, and she was about to voice her concern to Wren, but she was already out of the jeep and shutting her door. If Wren wasn’t concerned, it was fine.

Right?

Veronica wasn’t so sure, and she suddenly missed her service pistol. She both chose not to carry since they were going to the bar to celebrate. At the time, it made a lot of sense. But now? Not so much. Her heart was pounding, not sure of what to expect, so she had no issue going in first when Wren motioned for her to. She was ready for anything.

Well, almost anything.

What she wasn’t expecting was the bar being so full of people, or for those people to hope up from hiding. From behind the bar, out of the kitchen, and even behind the chairs.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Someone, somewhere, had a confetti gun and made it rain in rainbow paper. Veronica eyed the green and pink birthday banner that was definitely homemade. Her hands found her mouth, covering it as tears swelled, pure happiness taking over completely as Wren threw her arm around her shoulders.

Everyone was there. Adelaide stood with Mary May, Evie with Joey hugging her from behind, Rey waving with Sharky and Hurk jr, and even Rheese had been able to make it as she stood with the Rye’s and Grace. It was overwhelming, and she was passed around, greeted and hugged. Veronica was smiling so much, her face was starting to get sore, and she was sure her makeup was done for with all the crying. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.

To say she had a blast, was an understatement of the century. A game of darts with Rey that ended up proving Veronica had terrible aim while drinking, but neither of them cared. It only roped her into a drinking contest with Rheese, the blonde bound and determined to beat her this time. Rey and Wren placed their bets as Evie took her job as referee seriously. It got to the point where they had just started chugging with their friends chanting and cheering them on. Rheese placed her arms around her, pulling her close in a tight hug.

“IT’S YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BIRTHDAY!!!”

It got Wren and Evie rowdy, and one thing led to another, resulting in a karaoke battle. Wren dragged her with her, Evie following with Hudson in tow.

They all agreed to one song. But one turned to three, and eventually, they had lost count. All that mattered was that Sharky was singing along in the audience as Hurk jr waved a lighter in the air. When they were fully out of breath and sweaty, they stopped, asking which team had won. Sharky just shrugged.

“I just thought y���all were havin’ fun, didn’t know I was s’pose to be judgin’.”

They just laughed, stumbling away from the karaoke machine giving their friends high fives as they went. It was then Veronica’s mom came out of the kitchen, her and Ronnie’s friends leading the entire bar in singing Happy Birthday. The cake was bigger than Ronnie was used to having, two tiered and the icing matching the banner.

“Make a wish!” Rey called with a wide smile once the singing died down. Veronica giggled, racking her brain for something to wish for, but for once, she couldn’t think of anything. She had everything she wanted right here…well, almost everything.

With the thought of pretty green eyes, Veronica blew out the candles, everyone clapping and cheering. It was Mary May who cut the cake, helping Ronnie’s mom pass out slices to everyone. The group of friends finding a table for themselves. Wren leaning back, resting a leg on Ronnie’s chair, and Ronnie doing the same. Evie plopped herself down on Joey’s lap while Rey pulled her knee up, her arm holding it close as she took a bite. Rheese, dragged a chair loudly across the floor, making a few people stare as she swung it around and straddled it. Evie winked at her, running a finger in the icing of her cake.

“Hey babe, watch this.” Evie teased before smearing it over the side of Joey’s face. Wren snorted before taking a bite, and Joey eyed Evie mischievously. Grabbing the icing flower on her cake, Joey moved to smash it on Evie, but the blonde shifted, moving out of the way last minute.

Rey, however, wasn’t so lucky.

The flower smacked Rey in the chest, sliding down. She carefully grabbed it, eyeing Hudson as she set her foot back on the ground. Moving forward, she took a chunk of her cake before throwing it back. The alcohol, unfortunately, affected Rey’s aim, making it Rheese in the face. The table grew quiet, but Wren cackled, laughing loudly and Rheese fixed her glare on her.

A smirk made its way across her face as she grabbed the whole cake, flinging it at Wren. She squealed when the cake hit it’s mark against her own face. “Motherfu—”

The table erupted, cake and frosting painting the table and floor. Ronnie ducked, pushing away from the table in hopes to escape as Wren smashed her piece in Rey’s hair, but she wasn’t so lucky. Rheese grabbed Veronica’s plate and smashed it against her face. She could taste the icing and she was almost certain some of it made it in her nose.

“Guys! Seriously?!” Mary May called, her hands on her hips as she assessed the damage.

“And that’s my que.” Rey said with a laugh. “I’ll catch you later, dears. Don’t have too much fun.”

They hugged before Rey made her exit, waving as she walked out. Wren called back, promising to clean up when everything was done. Fairgrave gave her a look before shaking her head and returning back to the bar. They erupted in laughter, ordering another round of drinks.

Slowly, things began to die down, Evie and Joey announcing their departure, leaving hand in hand. Rheese stayed for a bit longer before she, too, called it a night. She gave quick hugs, wishing another loud happy birthday that made Veronica blush. Wren and Veronica sat in comfortable silence a little longer before Ronnie felt a gentle touch against her shoulder, and looking, she found the familiar green eyes and bright smile.

“Hey.” Ronnie said, her voice just a bit shaky.

“I heard it was your birthday.” Faith replied, her soft voice almost drowned out by the music still playing. “Wren mentioned that you were having a party.” Ronnie whipped around to throw a look at Wren, but she was taking another drink and looking innocent as the bottle hid her smirk. She smiled, turning back to Faith as her heart pounded.

“Oh, yeah. It was a bit of a surprise. I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to say hi earlier.”

Faith just laughed. “No worries! You were having fun with your friends. Unfortunately, my brothers couldn’t join. Joseph had some counseling to do with some troubled followers and Jacob isn’t exactly the social type. And John, well…” Faith glanced at Wren briefly. “He’s a bit busy dog sitting, I heard.”

Wren barked out a laugh and Ronnie couldn’t fight the smile on her face. “You heard about that?”

“I’ve heard a few things.” Faith replied with a twinkle in her eye. Leaning forward, she placed a kiss against Veronica’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Veronica.” She whispered in her ear. Ronnie couldn’t bring herself to say anything as Faith walked away. She touched her cheek, still feeling the warmth of Faith’s lips still burning against her skin. Guess her birthday wish came true after all.

“So?” Wren asked, looking at Veronica. “Good day?”

Before Veronica could answer, the bar door flew open. John Seed, muddy and disheveled, stood in the entryway. “Blake!”

Wren’s eyes widened as she paled, and Veronica howled. “The best!”

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Under the rain (Orion Amari x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Words: 1347

Warning: Gender Neutral Reader. (L/N) means your last name.  The image is not mine, it belongs to its owner (Jam City, official twitter acount, link here.) Fluff. 

Author’s note: Happy 200 followers!!! Gang, I love you soooooooooooo much, thank you for everything. I hope you enjoy this piece like I did writing it. Also, there is no Orion Amari x Reader nowhere 😱. 

You can fin my masterlist here. You can ask and request imagines, my box is open and I have free time so much right now. 

The match against Ravenclaw was mear minutes away, and you were feeling nervous. Rath was not known to be very patient, and her specialty was to knock people off their brooms mid-flying. You still resented Skye for her rashness and the rumours she started, thus making the prime suspect in Rath’s eyes. You didn’t really want to die playing your last match of the season. 

‘’I know the rain is heavy, but think of it this way: We practiced under all sorts of weather, and Ravenclaws didn’t.’’ Was saying Orion, standing in front of the blackboard presenting the technics you were to used during the match. 

During the year, you and Skye had become friends, she introduced you to Murphy, who helped you enter the Quidditch team. You gave your passion and devotion to each of the hobbies you discovered having convinced him to train you. It also made him talk a lot about you to the rest of the team. Murphy was maybe only the commentator, but he was still Hufflepuff. Perhaps it was because of that boy that Orion had been so entranced by you. 

He heard of you, of course, Hogwarts very own young curse breaker and sibling of famous runaway Jacob (L/N), being in the same house as you too made him curious. But he was a calm lad, and seeing as Jane was treating you as her protégée was even more revelating of your personality. It was your eyes that made his heart melt the first time. After training for hours and making you run around throwing cryptic sentences, he saw your eyes shine when he finally accepted to take you in for the preliminary practice.  

Orion was often the rock of the team, that’s why he was captain after all. Between Skye and Murphy, he was often thrown out of the discussion with his infuriating calmness. But after you came into the team, people started gravitating around you. You were the sun of the team. The sensation was hard to shake off with the yellow quidditch robe you were wearing most of the time you were on the field. It seemed that people were attracted to you no matter what you were doing. 

Orion was dubitative at first, maybe you were like Skye, after all, you were Hogwarts curse breaker. You seemed ambitious, and when you were concentrated, your face loosed the smile you were normally always harbouring. Skye, too was cute looking but exasperating when you got to know her. Then the daily argument between Skye and him happened, and he saw it. The practice had been arduous, and the team was cranky. They’d been flying around since ungodly hours in the morning. More than once had someone nearly fall because of a bulger. 

Too, he was irritated, even more so by Skye’s behaviour, but also the statements she was sprouting in his face like it was his fault. She was the one who had angered Rath first. You, however, seemed to have had enough of their behaviour. Both of them were one year older than you, but it didn’t show at that moment. 

‘’That’s enough!’’ Your voice echoed in the stade. Both had stopped talking upon hearing you, lowering their gaze to the ground ‘’Today was hard for everybody, Skye, he’s trying his best. But Seriously, if I see one more quaffle Today, I’ll kill someone.’’ You added, looking at Orion. ‘’But since you have so much to say, why don’t you go talk to Rath since you started the rumours…’’ Your eyes darted toward Skye, who had lowered her gaze. ‘’See, saying things that hurt won’t solve the problem, can we go shower now?’’ 

After that, Orion had been more invested in cracking you. You seemed outgoing, but sometimes you were refraining yourself. A smile was always on your lips, even when times became harder. He could hear the rumours about you going out at night, practicing magic in the corridors, overseeing your friends. He could listen to you talk and laugh in the common room with your friend Rowan and Penny, he could see you make mischief with Tonks, but when you were alone, or when you thought no one was watching, your face loosen, your lips would drop, and your eyes would stop shining. That’s when Orion started to understand that your smile was only to protect those around you. 

But who was protecting you?

‘’The game is about to start, you do your best!’’ Stated the captain clapping in his hands. 

It took him months to convince you to go to Hogsmeade with him. All you ever did there was accompanying Tulip to Zonko and drink butterbeer with Bill, Charlie and Rowan. He wanted to show you other things. Take the stress away. There was this pet shop near the train station, and he took you there. Seeing the innocent smile upon your lips when a kitten chose to play with your finger, he bought it for you. The kitten was named Rigel because it was the name of a star in the Orion constellation. It had been part of his summer economy, but your smile was worth it. The numerous gifts he received from you after that too. 

His favourite had been the kiss. That Christmas, under a magical mistletoe that Murphy probably enchanted, yeah, that was his favourite gift from you. 

As the team separated from the traditional good-luck-team-hug and exited the tent, Orion’s hand took you, keeping you from leaving just yet. ‘’Good luck out there,’’ he said in a whisper. You smiled back at him. Orion felt his heart jump in his rib cage, racing painfully against it. You always made him soft. 

‘’You too.’’ You responded, closing the distance between the two of you. You were just a little bit shorter than him, so to meet his forehead with you, you had to push yourself a little bit with your toes. He closed his eyes. It was your ceremony, forehead touches before matches, more intimate, better than a good luck kiss and much cuter too. ‘’Let’s go kick their asses!’’ Orion nodded, taking a step back, and both of you joined your teammates at the Hufflepuff entry of the stadium. 

Murphy was making commentaries as usual, shading the Ravenclaws when he could, making acute theories about both sides technics and responding to McGonagall irritated questions about his neutrality on the matter with a bit of sass, just like usual. But on the field, it was much harder. With the rain and the wind, it was hard to concentrate, and the quaffle was slippery. Rath was set on making you fall from your broom, but you did your best. 

Unfortunately, she was also set on breaking every bone of the poor seeker of your team. After making a Parkin’s pass and scoring, you saw Lena Rooks, the seeker, being chased by both the Ravenclaw seeker and Rath, who was waving her bat. You acted by instinct. 

Racing against the elements and slithering in between your teammates to block the bulger from ripping Lena’s head off, you caught it in your arms, but not before it struck your rib cage. You held on to your broom with one hand, the other busy throwing the bulger somewhere else. In the rostrum, you could hear the gasps and cries from the other students. The screaming of your name by the other Hufflepuff players before Murphy’s voice roared. 

‘’Thanks to (L/N) heroic action of taking the bulger instead, Hufflepuff’s Lena Rooks got the snitch, one-hundred and fifty points to Hufflepuff!’’ The sound of happy roaring became deafening. ‘’Hufflepuff wins the cup this year, taking the title away from five years of consecutive wins from Ravenclaw!’’ You smiled. 

Flying toward the ground, to rejoin the rest of your team, you had just jumped off your new Comet 260 that you were swooped off your feet by Orion. On his broom, he circled the stadium so you could celebrate with the public, before descending once again. 

Even under the rain, your smile was shining like the sun. 

[zacklover24]

“Let me get this straight, the first case that I'm helping you with after my leg healed is a banshee? And not only that but a banshee that is supposedly being hunted?” Tessa slowly and carefully asks.

“Something like that.” Jacob tells her with a smirk, “We didn't tell the best part.” 

“There's more to this?” She asks with a cocked eyebrow.

“What Jacob means, is that the banshee was spotted in the bogs.” Evie states.

“Were going to the Irish bogs to visit a banshee.” Tessa mutters, “Alright.” As she flopped down next to Jacob on the couch. This was why Tessa loved the train, everything they needed for a mission was right at there finger tips. “Where is this banshee anyway?” As she pulled in close to Jacob's side.

“In a raised bog in the Shannon basin.” Evie informs her.

“We're on our own here. The hunters here are busy with other cases at the moment. And we need to be careful, in the bogs.” Henry tells them.

“You can get lost so easily in the bogs.” Jacob teases.

“Why are we helping this banshee anyway?” Clara asks, as she was doing homework with Ned's help.

“Banshee isn't a bad spirit kid. She alerts families of when someone is going to die. And if someone is trying to hurt her, she can't do her job.” Tessa explains with a content sigh.

“There are good and bad spirits.” Jacob quickly informs her.

“So Jack the ripper is an example of a bad spirit, while the banshee is a good one?” Clara asks, as everyone winced hard.

“Very good sweetheart.” Tessa says through clenched teeth. 

“We don't talk about the ripper.” Evie softly says as Jacob was hiding his annoyance. Tessa twisted so she, out of Jacob hold, stood and stretched. 

“I think Irvine made some fresh raspberry tarts. Jacob wants to come with me.” Tessa asks with a soft smile, as she offers Jacob her hand. 

“I would love to tess.” As he took her hand and the pair left. Tessa stopped at the entrance of the dining car. 

“Clara didn’t mean it.” Tessa gently says, as she touched Jacob’s arm. 

Jacob let out a sigh, as he pulled Tessa into a tight hug, “I know, I know. It’s like getting mad at a puppy. It’s just the whole mess over with the ripper, hurts. I thought I was going to lose you.” 

“But, you didn’t.” Tessa gently reminds him, “And I know it doesn’t need to be said, but I think it should. You're not your grandfather, you did nothing wrong against the ripper. He failed, not you.” 

“I- thank you.” Jacob says as he kisses her, “What would I do without you?” 

“Don’t know. You're not him, and you don’t need that guilt weighing you down. Remember the ripper is gone, and he is not coming back.” 

“And if he does?” Jacob asks tilting his head to the side with a smug smirk. 

“Well if that is the case, we just need to kick his ass back to hell.” Tessa responds with her own smug smirk. 

"And this is why I love you tess." Jacob proudly states giving her a tight hug.

Tessa let out a soft chuckle as she pulled out of the hug, "And I love you my daring rook. Now if we don't return soon with some tarts, I dare say Evue might kill us."

"Right you are my cunning sparrow." Jacob agrees with his own chuckle 

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

The bog was eerily quite, as the cloudless night illumined the area. It was ominous given that banshee called the bog home. As the group carefully walked through the swamp, they heard it. A low weeping coming from the darkness. Floating in the bog was a young woman. The glowing white maiden donned a long white gown, complimenting her luminous blonde hair. Her eyes were bloodshot from the countless years of weeping.

"I'll say it, she's hot." Jacob admits as the woman was weeping. Tessa could only nod her head in approval. 

"Really Jacob?" Evie scolds with an eye roll.

"He's not wrong. She's very pretty." Tessa agrees. "I know banshees hunt certain families, and will warn them about death."

"It does seem a little odd, for her to be out here alone. Unless part of her family home is here?" Evie guesses.

[marshmallow--3]

Imagine - Jacob Frye suffering from a werewolf curse.

Frye Cottage, Surrey, October 1873

Softly, you're roused by the ambient sounds of the forest encompassing the house: owls hooting, tree branches rapping on the windows, fierce winds howling into the night.

You couldn't say what time it is. You doubt you could even hazard a guess. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness consuming the room, rendering any attempt to read the clock a fruitless endeavour.

A brief glance at the window confirms that dawn is yet to break.

Perfect.

Sitting upright in bed, you fumble in the dark for a moment until your hands happen upon the knob belonging to the drawer of the nightstand. With only a trickle of moonbeams lending you the faculty of sight, you open the drawer, reach for the only object inside, and strike a match.

You hold it by your face, tilting the matchstick downward and watching as the flame dances and swells. Using the light the match provides, you ignite the oil lamp atop the nightstand, extinguishing the match with a shake of your hand as the room is bathed in a warm, amber glow.

The cottage, for all intents and purposes, is without ornament - and rightly so. The single-storey cabin may be the only building for several miles, as per your intentions. The interior is functional, pragmatic, an open-plan room comprised of a bed tucked away in a corner and a kitchenette. A chimney and burning stove looks across from your sleeping area, supplementary to a table and two chairs.

A Welsh dresser is half-filled with plates and mugs, its cupboards and drawers stowing bits of food and medical goods - bandages, a needle and thread, a bottle of gin, though you're yet to use any of it, thank the Lord.

A wolf howls in the distance, prompting you to take a peek outside from behind the curtains. The full moon is fading, you note, compelling you to rise and begin your preparations for the long day ahead.

After making the bed, you cross the room and burn wood at the stove, boiling herbal tea in a cast-iron kettle. You fix some cold cuts of bread, cheese and meat, managing to eat a little yourself while saving a second portion.

A short time later, a figure comes stumbling in through the door, slamming it shut. You're hesitant to look up, knowing from previous months the heart-wrenching sight that awaits.

A creature paces with convulsing legs, looking ready to collapse at any moment. It bears the form of a man, but the mental state of a wolf. A blanket is draped around its heaving shoulders, its naked, hairy body shivering violently. Brown hair is thoroughly dishevelled, small sticks and leaves clinging to the strands. Sickly pale skin gleams wet with sweat, dirt markings littering its face. Wild, glassy eyes frantically dart around the room.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rise from your seat as slowly as possible, yearning to draw the weeping man into your bosom.

He's still an animal, you have to remind yourself, though it does little to patch your broken heart.

You avoid prolonged eye contact, letting your eyes look past him instead of lingering on him.

"Jacob," you murmur, your voice soft and quiet so as not to alarm him further.

Taking a miniscule step forward, you approach him gingerly, repeating your internal mantra of stay calm. You shrink your body and repeat his name while observing his body language, keeping an eye out for any signs of injury.

He's panicked, hysterical, gripping his head and yowling, those wide eyes reminiscent of an animal caught in a trap.

You hold your hand out palm down, and croon, "Jacob, it's okay. I'm going to help you."

By now you've crossed the room, though a good distance remains between you. His back stiffens, the air shifting around him, his nose crinkling as he picks up the Scent. He visibly calms somewhat, blinking as his eyes soften to their usual melliferous hazel.

Watching him stagger towards you, you take a few final steps towards him, catching him as he falls into you, the blanket falling from his shoulders as his arms crush you into a tight hug. You remember to hold your breath, to remain perfectly still as he buries his nose in the dip of your shoulder.

He inhales sharply, memories of his human life flashing behind his eyelids. Merry laughter rings in his head like a bell, faces of loved ones appearing and overlaying one another at the speed of lightning.

In verifying the Scent, his arms loosen around you, his breathing heavy against your skin.

The Scent comforts his wolf form, he'd once explained. It's a blend of your smell and his, a product of your... prior carnal union, so to speak, serving as a catalyst that completes the reconstruction of his brain.

You continue to shush him, now free to move your hand and stroke his damp hair, pacifying him until the shaking subsides.

Lifting his head, he meets your gaze and wets his lips in an attempt to speak.

"Hi."

You cup his face, tears forming in your eyes at the humanity present in his face, at the way his eyes gleam in recognising you.

"Hi." Your response comes with lumps in your throat.

He chuckles to break the ice, immediately wincing and breaking out in a fit of coughing. Prying yourself from his embrace, you help him hobble over to the table and take a seat. Working swiftly, you pour a cup of the tea, retrieving the laudanum from a drawer in the dresser and setting it down in front of him.

He tests his coordination for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fist and wiggling his fingers before trusting himself with handling a cup of hot liquid. He blows the drink before sipping, swallowing quickly to avoid the bitter taste.

His speech is slow, hesitant. "Is that, the same, same stuff as last time?"

You nod. He grimaces.

"Doesn't work."

"It's the highest dose the doctor will prescribe me." It took little effort convincing the physician that the pills were for you - dramatising your menstrual pain is far preferable to telling the truth. "Please, take it. Something is better than nothing."

Jacob glances up at you, taking in the sight of your eyes glossy with tears, your forehead creased with concern, your brows angled upwards as you plead.

Agreeing silently, he takes the tablet and swallows it down with the bitter brew, spluttering as the taste lingers on his taste buds. You rub his back to help him keep it down, drawing his attention to the plate of food; perhaps it could cover the horrid taste.

He takes stock of the plate's contents, sniffing tentatively. The cuts of meat smells appetising at the very least, and he almost reaches for it before his head swims with intrusive images of sleeping deer, the sound of snarling wolves surrounding him as though they're present in the room. Nausea rises from his stomach, he heaves and retches before pushing the plate away with a forceful shove.

"I need to lie down."

He staggers in standing up, knocking cutlery to the ground with a clatter. He grits his teeth, distributing a little too much of his weight onto you as you help him limp towards the bed.

Every step is pure agony for him; although you haven't experienced his curse, you can imagine the torture he must go through - his skeleton changing shape, his organs moving position, his flesh and muscles being torn to shreds by his own claws.

All that, and probably far more that your imagination simply cannot comprehend, three nights a month.

He doesn't peel the duvet back to clamber into bed, instead laying himself on top of the bedclothes. And judging from the heat radiating from his body, you can understand why.

You get a proper look at his face for the first time: his skin is off-colour and boiling hot to the touch, and the whites of his eyes are bloodshot. Sweat trickles down his forehead, red welts marring his skin. You dab his forehead with a cold, wet towel, conscious of the pressure you apply.

He grunts, a fresh wave of throbbing spasms coursing through his jerking body.

"Shhh, Jacob, you're okay. You're alright."

It's silly, but... Despite all of the ways you help him, you feel helpless, wishing you could do more to take his pain away for good. Watching on as he pants and yells, his body convulsing like a seizure, you find yourself singing a lullaby, stroking his cheek in hopes of pacifying him even a little.

"I love you," Jacob manages to wheeze when your song comes to an end.

"I love you too, my darling man."

@sassenach-on-the-rocks @aikeia @yourchepazworld @iceboundstar @the-purple-rook @unprofessional-bard @witch-of-letters @disneymarina @thero0ks @assassins-and-hidden-blades @ass-sass-sin-o @ladye11e @deviousspleen

[solesurvivorkat]

FC5 Deputy GFH Dialogue

(Quickie ‘Katie IRL’ Update: So sorry for lack of writing... to be succinct, I might have a sleep disorder, possibly Sleep Apnea - been very tired/lethargic for several months now, finally have a test scheduled for late August. Will have to ‘make do’/power through fatigue until then. I will do my best to jump-start my writing {and my YT channel} until then!

Also - as for ‘I Need to Tell You’ (FC5 no-cult AU fic) - I don’t think I have a ton of readers for that one, so I’m just gonna stick to the movie-plot where I can & finish it up {the end is nearing!}. If anyone wants to read anything else from that ‘verse, lemme know & I’ll whip something up - otherwise, I’m gonna finish that up & get back to working on ‘The Book of John’ again, which is loooong overdue {poor Sarah’s been in John’s bunker forever, lol!}. THAT said... )

~~~~~~~~

Deputy Sarah Rook

(NOTE: My apologies if Sarah’s dialogue is similar to anyone else’s OC’s... I promise and swear that if it happens, it’s purely coincidental. I am adamant about not {purposely} stealing anyone else’s creativity! <3  Also, this is quite long... but it’s not everything in FC5, so if you like it & want even more, just lemme know, lol.)

With Fangs for Hire:

Boomer: “Aww, who’s my sweet, brave boy?” (kisses forehead) - “Good boy, Boomer!” - “I know what it’s like to have someone you love taken away from you... but don’t worry boy, you’re not alone. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never are again.” - “I won’t let Eden’s Gate use you, I promise.” - “Boomer, go!” - “Rae-Rae won’t have died in vain, I promise you.”

Peaches: “I’m... usually more of a dog person - but as long as I get to keep all my fingers and limbs, I’m satisfied.” - “Peaches, attack!” - “Us girls gotta stick together, right?” - “Hmm... one blue eye, one brown. Unique!” - “Needless to say, a cougar’s a very dangerous pet. Miss Mable never should have tried to raise you in captivity. Still... it can be handy to have a cougar for an ally.” - (gives affectionate pets) “Aww, my sweet little ‘danger kitty’...”

Cheeseburger: “You’re like a... big, dangerous teddy.” (laughs) - “Cheeseburger! How are ya, buddy?” - “Wade was sweet to look after you. I promise I’ll try to do the same.” - “I will not let Jacob take you.” - “Ohh, those big brown eyes of yours...” - “I can’t believe Wade not only found a collar to fit you, but also one that had cheeseburgers on it. Wow.” - “I’m glad you’re on my side, boy.” - “No, I can’t give you any more cheeseburgers. ...Stop looking at me like that, you know they’re not good for you. ...You’re on a diet, remember? ...  (sighs)  .....Okay, ONE burger. Don’t tell anyone.”

With other Guns for Hire:

Sharky

(serious) “Sharky... just between us... you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” - “Sharky... never change.” (smiles)

“Sharky, I know fire is your, uh- ‘specialty’, but... you need to try not burning down half the forest with us!” 

“Anything you say, Charlemagne.” 

“You and Hurk are a dangerous duo - in more ways than one.” 

(horrified, after hearing about his mom/parents) “Anyone who'd do that to an innocent baby doesn’t deserve them. You’re better off, Shark.” 

(cheesy grin) “I hope Eden’s Gate stocked up on ‘Shark repellent’!” 

(when fighting together) “Time for a ‘Shark attack’!” - “You’ve got us between a rock and a shark place!” - “Sarah and Shark, makin’ their mark!” - “You might be better off using your gun here, Sharky.”

“Disco, Sharky? Really? (sighs) ...All right, to each his own.”

“Hey Sharky, got a bad joke for ya - what’s a shark’s favorite bible story? ...’Noah’s Shark’!”

“Ride or die, buddy!”

“No matter what, I’ve always got your back, Sharky.”

Grace

(chuckles nervously/anxiously after seeing ‘serious/deadpan Grace’) “Sorry, I... joking around is kind of my ‘defense mechanism’...”

“A medal in the Olympics... that’s amazing, Grace. ...Er- no pun intended.”

“For what it’s worth... thank you for your service to our country.”

(after Grace mentions destroying copies of ‘Only You’, Sarah chuckles sadly) “Y’know, it’s funny... I actually used to like that song...”

“I know you want to protect your dad’s grave, I do completely understand... but we also need to help protect innocent people that’re still living too, you know? They need us... need you.”

Hurk

"Hercules Drubman Junior - as I live and breathe." (smiles)

“Hurk, I... don’t think a rocket launcher is the best weapon to use right now...”

“As... ‘tempting’ as ‘Hurk’s Gate’ sounds, I... don’t think it’s quite for me.”

(at a loss for words) “...Oh Hurk...”

“Y’know Hurk... there is a lot more to life than beer, drugs, and sex...” - (Hurk {looks horrified}: “...Say whaat? What’choo talkin’ ‘bout, Dep??”)

“Hurk, just... be careful.”

(stares blankly, then slowly raises an eyebrow) “...Monkey... King/God??”

“No offense dude, but... if your dad doesn’t stop talking I may have to ‘accidentally’ shoot him.”

(sneaking around) “You’re not exactly the ‘king of stealth’. Why don’t... you hang back here for a minute? I’ll signal you or call out if I need you.”

“To each their own, but ‘partying’ is... not really my thing.”

Adelaide

(pointing in turn to Sharky, Hurk, then Addie, during ‘tongue-in-cheek’ suggestions for Sarah) “No, no, and HELL no.”

(Addie: "Punch it Chewie! ...Bet you got a kick out of that, you fuckin’ nerd.") “Hey- I love the reference, and I’m proud of who I am. ...Mostly.” (smiles)

“Addie, for the last time - no, I did not inspect John's underwear drawer when I was at Seed Ranch. I was a little occupied at the time.” (turns bright red as Addie looks thrilled) “...That- that’s not what I meant!”

(reluctantly) “Addie? I kind of need some... ‘womanly advice’.” - (Addie, eyebrows raised: “And you came to me?? Oh hunny...”)

“While I appreciate your... ‘openness’, no - I do not need ‘tips’ from you and Xander about ‘positions’.”

“Addie... ‘showing more cleavage’ is not going to help me with the Seed brothers or Eden’s Gate, despite your insistence.”

“...I am not playing ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’...”

Nick

(after flying Carmina - and puking once landed) “Nick... if you ever make me do that again... I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be bad.”

“Flying may be great for you, but I’m much happier with my feet on the ground.”

“I’ll protect you and your family as much as I can - that’s a promise.”

“Defending your business, plane, home, family, and friends like you have been... I’m sure your family would be very proud of you.”

“There he is, ‘King of the Skies’!”

“You and Kim... you’re lucky to have each other. I kind of envy that.”

“Rook and Rye - on land and in the sky!“

“I know fighting Eden’s Gate is important, but... don’t forget to be there for Kim too. We’ve [the Resistance] got this... Kim and your baby need you more.” 

(After Carmina's born) "How's Kim and the baby? You'd better be taking good care of my goddaughter!"

Jess

“I know we grew up in very different ‘environments’, but... I also know what it’s like to feel alone for a long time. No pressure, but... I’m here if you ever need someone to lend an ear.”

(re: Jess’s insane survival skills) “...You’ve got to teach me that/how to do that sometime.”

“You’re related to Dutch? Wow, that’s... kinda cool.”

“I thought I swore a lot, but... wow.”

“Yeah... I’m not one for small talk, either.”

In Combat

(to herself, stressed) “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...”

“Aw shit...”

“Fucking Peggies!”

(to herself, quickly and quietly) “You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day...”

“Let’s kick some Peggie ass!”

(to herself) “I can do all things through him who strengthens me...”

“May God have mercy on you.”

“I don’t think my soul is the one that needs saving!”

Driving

(hears ‘Oh John’ on the radio & starts humming along. After a couple seconds, realizes what she’s doing and shakes her head, murmuring to herself) “...Damnit...”

“I’m driving? If you say so.”

“ ‘Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need... roads.’ “ (smug grin)

“I used to like driving. Found it kind of relaxing, most of the time. ...That was before I started having to get used to being pursued and chased down by Eden’s Gate trucks.”

“Time for... LUDICROUS SPEED!”

“Fasten your seatbelts... it’s going to be a bumpy ride!”

Idle

“...So...?”

“Everything okay? Do you need a break?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but I spent most of my life in New England - Connecticut, actually. Born and raised. I moved out to Hope County only a few years ago, when the Deputy job opened up. Thought it’d be... a ‘fresh start’. ...Definitely didn’t expect anything like all this to happen.”

“I used to roll my eyes - or want to - every time the Sheriff and the other Deps called me ‘Rookie’. They thought it was so funny, on account of my last name and all, and me being the newest addition to the department. Now that we’re all spread out and fighting against the cult... I think I kind of miss it.”

“Some of the most horrible things imaginable... have been done by people who claim they had ‘good reasons’ behind their actions.”

“There’s an old proverb that states, ‘Hell is full of good meanings, but heaven is full of good works’. ...There’s a lot of wisdom in that.”

“God has a reason for everything, even if we don’t always understand why...”

“The right thing to do is not always the easy thing to do...”

“Faith is believing in things when common sense tell you not to.“

“Imagine the things we could accomplish... if we would just try.”

“ ‘Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.’ ...Make fun of me all you want, but it’s true.”

“I do love nature. ...You know... when it’s not being interrupted by religious idiots.”

“Courage isn’t the absence of fear... it’s deciding that something is more important than fear.”

Recruiting/Greeting

“I’ll do everything I can... you can count on it.”

“Good to see you again.”

“Let’s do this.”

“Stronger together!”

Dismissal

“Until we meet again - stay safe.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Done already? Aww, you’re killin’ me, Smalls.”

Injured/Down

“God damnit... not yet...”

“FUCK!”

“This can’t be it...”

“I’m sorry... I tried...”

“I need some help!”

Revived/Assisted

“Thanks... now let’s teach these assholes a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

“Never tell me the odds!”

“Never give up, never surrender!”

“Thanks for the help!”

“Thanks... our work’s not done yet!”

Stealth

“Shh... ‘silence is golden’, remember?“

“Keep a low profile!”

“Be cautious...”

“Don’t let ‘em see you comin’...”

“ ‘Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise...’ ”

Being aimed at

“Watch where you’re pointing that.”

“I’m a much better shot than I let on. Just remember that.”

“Two hits - me hitting you, and you hitting the ground. I suggest you aim elsewhere.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Location-Specific:

By any body of water: “When I lived in Connecticut, I loved seeing the ocean. The lakes in Montana can be beautiful, but... it’s not quite the same.”

The Henbane: “Freakin’ Bliss.” / “Please promise me... that you’ll never, ever let me end up like one of Faith’s Angels.” / “Exploiting people’s weaknesses and fears to get them to do what you want... it’s wrong on so many levels.” / “Rachel Jessop wasn’t the first, or even the second ‘Faith Seed’... I wonder if she’s ever afraid of ending up like them.” / “God wants people to follow him willingly, to choose to do good - not be forced into it with trickery and fear. Even if - in an insane world - Joseph was right, it doesn’t excuse the things that Eden’s Gate has done. If they have a message to spread, this isn’t the way to do it.”

Holland Valley: “Saying ‘Yes’ to everything doesn’t make you a better person.” /  “Many people know the seven deadly sins... but few people can name - let alone even know about - the 'seven virtues': chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility. ...But you don’t see John tattooing those on people.” / John is... he’s done some horrible things. Committed heinous acts. But knowing the life he had to endure as a child when the Duncans adopted him... I hate so many of the things he’s done, but... part of me can’t help feeling sorry for him, too.” / “Underneath all those layers of ‘jackass’, way, waaaay deep down... I think there’s a lot of hurt and pain in John.”

The Whitetails: “Jacob acts like having feelings, friends, caring for things and people makes you weak. It’s just the opposite... having things to fight for - people to fight for - is a strength. More than just a ‘purpose’ - it’s a blessing.” / (angry) Jacob turning me into a weapon of destruction... he’s going to pay for that. / Forcing Bliss on animals to turn them into Judges... it’s wrong on multiple levels. / “I’m ‘weak’, Jacob? I’ll show you what a ‘weak’ person can do.”

[pheedraws]

5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30!

5. What’s their outfit (transportation) like? 

Grace’s preferred mode of transportation is her trusty-but-rusty bottle green pick-up truck she bought during her first week in Hope County. The damn thing needs repairing so much that she’d be better off just selling it and buying a newer model, but her brother Daniel taught her a few things about mechanics before she left home so it becomes almost a project to her of sorts. It certainly beats running around the county on foot, at least…

10. How about Dutch? Do they get along with? 

Grace has… mixed feelings about Dutch. Naturally, she is incredibly thankful for him saving her life, but a small part of her resents him for thrusting her into a fight she wanted no part of and making her the de facto leader of an armed resistance. The expectations never really stop, and it wears Grace down faster than she would ever care to admit. If the man could simply acknowledge that she’s only human every once in a while, she might get along with him a little better, but alas… 

15. From Fall’s End which person they get along with? 

While Grace is amicable enough with the citizens of Fall’s End (up until her dalliances with John come to light, at least), she never really had a close relationship with anyone in the town. Sure, she knew everyone’s faces after two years of working in Hope County, but that was the extent of things. Out of everyone, she gets along with Pastor Jerome the best, though the pair only spoke a few times prior to the arrest. He appreciates the work she does for them and is vocal about it, and that means more to Grace than she’ll admit.

20. How do they feel about Jacob? 

Grace respects Jacob… to an extent. Pre-arrest, Joseph was the only Seed she had extended contact with, only ever seeing John and Jacob in passing (or at that one particularly awkward BBQ the Ryes threw). She never had particularly strong opinions about him either way, relating to him in some sense but never feeling quite compelled enough to get to know the soldier... not that he would be one for doing that, anyway. After everything goes to shit in Hope County, Jacob scares Grace. She hates knowing that he has control over her, that he can make her do anything. Jacob has a knack for hitting way too close to home when it comes to Grace, and he knows this. The pair are similar in many ways, and that’s what makes Grace uncomfortable the most.

Things between the two of them do improve after John confides in his brother that he and Grace are together, however. The animosity disappears entirely, and in its place a sense of mutual respect grows. Jacob had been having doubts about Joseph for a while, obviously feeling thankful and indebted to him for bringing their family back together, but also hating seeing what his brother was doing to John and Faith, of whom Jacob became incredibly protective over. He sees Grace as a way for John to break free from Joseph’s control, and thus supports what they have going on. All Jacob wants is for his siblings to be happy and safe, and Grace can respect that. 

25. Which two of the GFH make up their dream team? 

Fangs For Hire aside (because we all know Boomer goes absolutely everywhere with her), Grace spends most of her time travelling with Grace Armstrong and either Nick or Addie for added air support. Sure, the name situation is a tad confusing at first, but almost everyone refers to Grace as either Rook or Dep so those bumps get ironed out pretty quickly. Having both served overseas, they work well together from the get-go, the pair forming a natural bond out of mutual respect and admiration. 

30. What’s your character’s ending? (Can be one of the canon game endings or from your own canon) 

(Lemme preface this by saying this is still a tentative ending for her… I never really knew how I wanted Grace’s (and, by extension, John’s) story to end up until recently so I’m still toying with this specific idea. I’ll either expand more on it later on or completely rewrite it; stay tuned to find out which, I guess…) 

Grace always had a feeling that things in the county wouldn’t end peacefully. She’s had her fair share of experiences with religious fanatics, Joseph reminding her of her Uncle Asa a little too much to ever fully believe the lies he told, so she knows that he won’t rest until he’s gotten what he wants, no matter the cost. Whether or not he truly did hear God’s voice is another debate entirely, and Grace isn’t sure what to believe when it comes to that; all she does know is that something bad is going to happen, and she’s landed herself right in the middle of it. It’s John who first pitches the idea of them leaving, spoken in hushed tones as they lay in bed one night, the man having struggled with his own doubts about his brother and the church for a while now. The idea is swiftly brushed off, the pair realising it would never work out well for them… until Grace is forced to face John on Black Horse Peak, both of them bloodied and bruised, tired of fighting off both sides in a war neither of them wanted to be a part of. It’s then, as fire rains down from the sky and the whole county discovers that maybe Joseph was right all along, that Grace decides to do something selfish, something solely for her and not for the Resistance, and drags John’s sorry ass to a nearby bunker.

[straight-into-the-animus]

Hey! Could I maybe hear your thoughts on what jobs you think the Assassins would have in a modern day setting? 👀 cheers!

👀 I can certainly try (i swear i haven’t been ignoring you tumblr ate my last reply ilysm)

Altair: He needs that ego boost. Have you SEEN the man? I think something in management would suit him. Maybe marketing for a big ass corporation he inherited and made fancy. (Malik? His co-chair/head founder. Hates every minute but knows he has to stay around because “DAMN IT NOVICE THE TEMPLARS LIKE THEIR BAGELS WITH CREAM CHEESE FOR MEETINGS YOU KNOW THAT WHY DID YOU BRING ME SOUR CREAM”)

Ezio: That boy is a trust fund babyyyyy but he got flair and brains. Honestly he’d probably just do secretary-ish jobs for his dad’s work for the longest time before he sets off on his own. I like to think of him as a partner with Altair (accounting, maybe) but also as some sort of charming negotiator Altair sends in when he’s had enough. (I imagine that he presses a button that alerts Ezio in his office and Ezio rips off his clip on tie like “my time is now”)

Connor: Park Ranger. He loves his friends and those he actually cares about bc he’s got a big heart but a lot of that likes to go to who/what needs it the most. Maybe that might go a non-profit, which I could so see that happening. Achilles helps him set something up, a Go-Fund me that eventually takes off. BUT, fantasies aside, park ranger.

Edward: Yes he’s stinky but when he’s actually got his heart set on something he’s really fucking good at it, once Adewale snaps some sense into him and gets him on his feet. I don’t know how qualified he’d be but I feel like he’d work at a bunch of fast food joints and gas stations and eventually try and dominate them, try and become the manager. First stop, regional manager. Next stop? world domination.

Arno: He’s interesting because like? He wants to help those who need it and bring justice? But he’s also not exactly one for law. Once he stops doing a mini-Edward and plants his sad baguette feet on the ground under him he’d be really suited for something that involves helping people. Maybe a prosecuting lawyer, something to get those who deserve it away from the ones they hurt. He just wants people fine and secure, okay?

The Frye Twins: Okay so it would take like 97.99% convincing (random guesstimate) but Jacob would probably take all his Rooks and start a mini turf gang/vigilantes thingie. Keep a low down profile when he can but make sure the streets are alright. Evie would likely actually be the only one to go help out with the actual law enforcement, partially just for her dumbass brother’s sake and to actually get some “real” work done.

And Bonus Round for my other “Assassins” (they’re real Assassins to me):

Bayek/Aya: They run and coach at the local children’s sports center and deal with that whole area, they’ve been doing it for a long time now. They both love it and dedicate their time to it, though they go about it in different ways. Bayek is definitely the Dad(TM) who wants everyone to have fun. Aya glares at any parent (on either side) who decides to get a little too pushy with their kids, especially during a game. Bayek has had to ‘threaten’ taking her away from the field a few times.

Spartan Siblings: Kassandra does bodybuilding and training, whether in person or videos/photos on Instagram. She acts completely innocent on how she gets a thousand+ likes on each of photos but everyone in the group and her know damn well why and she preens like a damn peacock about it, though she does enjoy her job a lot for the challenge of it. Alexios is much less secure, going where the wind takes him, and he’s pretty much had every job. Barista? Surf instructor? Chicken wrangler? Whatever’s hiring, he goes for. It helps that he has friends (Barnabas) and so does his family (Brasidas) so they always help him out when they can. He just never finds himself wanting to settle down and do something for a long time, as long as he has enough money to get on by. (Eventually he probably would settle and go into something more active, but not for a long time)

(I hope these satisfied you and you weren’t too disappointed! Thank you!!!)

[ofravensandgenesis]

For John, maybe?: “You’re holding back.”

A/N: Characters/Verse-Setting: John Seed and Deputy Declan Rook, set in the Walk Away AU, in the Between Silence And Quiet verse. Minor mentions of Mary May Fairgrave and Deputy Joey Hudson.Summary: John tries to orchestrate a chance meeting to talk to that strange Deputy who chose to walk away. You’re holding back and John as a prompt from Chyrstis! :D Thank you for the prompt Chyrstis!! :D ♥Content includes: Cult content, John being John, manipulation, mild violence, etc.Ao3 link here, to avoid tumblr disaster formatting on mobile.————————————

“You’re holding back, Deputy.” John observed, his steps slow and methodical as he circled around from behind the other man where he stood.Not even a twitch. Not a look, a breath, or a word.Just silence. Silence broken by the pitiful little groans of pain from the crumpled heaps of booze-soaked trouble-makers surrounding the Deputy’s feet. Not even a broken bone among them, pff. Weak, as Jacob would so aptly call them. Foolish too, as John would term it. Too eager to vent their spleen and their wrath on any easy target—easy to target because it wasn’t mentally challenging to pick out who wasn’t a regular alcoholic here at the Spread Eagle, that was. The thought almost had John smirking. Almost. Had the drunken sops actually gotten to the point of swinging, well…it would’ve benefited the Project for John to take a punch for the team if only to be able to start the chain of actions to staple a battery charge on the lot. Then it was just a matter of slowly picking them apart until they were handing over the keys and deeds to their houses and lands to get out of the growing mountain of scandal and misfortune that would follow them from that point onward. Too foolish to step out of the noose they’d made, and too foolish to realize they’d woven the rope and tied it themselves—like shooting fish in a barrel.That was if he took a punch. They didn’t need trash like this in the Project, and their lands weren’t anything important. These souls were small fry, unworthy and uninteresting. Poor fighters, too. John had already known he could take them—and break them—in a fight.They hadn’t known that though. They’d assumed because he was some “fancy shmancy ass lawyer,” that he didn’t know how to raise a fist and fight. That he didn’t know pain.Oh, but did he know pain in far more intimate and detailed ways that they didn’t—and he could show it to them,—but no. They weren’t worthy of that revelation, that understanding of the power of YES.But Deputy Rook?Deputy Declan Rook.Deputy XiuYing Declan Rook.That was a soul who could understand. The silence surrounding him was too heavy with knowing, with something, with promise, to go unremarked on.The Deputy had kept his silence in the church too, then, on that fateful night.He’d listened to Joseph, strangely enough.Or. Joseph said the Deputy had.John disagreed. Jacob disagreed.There had been something in the Deputy’s face…that had been so very far away.The feeling of a soul that is disassociated from its surroundings and the going-ons of the moment.They all knew that feeling well.Joseph had dismissed it.But John? John couldn’t let well enough alone.That was why he was here now, slinking about the Spread Eagle on a Saturday night. He’d had good intel from his people about town that the Deputy had made an appearance at the bar, god forsaken well of poison that it was.That meant dealing with Mary May Fairgrave, however. As much fun as it was to rile her up, that was unfortunately an animosity he’d have to take a rain check on for another time. A crisp twenty dollar bill was enough to buy a few minutes of tolerance from her, when accompanied with a smile and a promise from John that he wasn’t here to cause trouble, simply to check on an acquaintance of his, and then he’d be out of her hair. That was a lie…but a good enough one that no one would hold him to it without looking unreasonable and biased. Not that being unreasonable and biased was unusual in this particular venue, sadly, but that was a well known, common effect of alcohol. One the two of them were both aware of. Mary May had scoffed, warned him not to linger longer than he had to, but had pocketed the cash. They’d done this before—and she knew well enough that he wasn’t interested in being served a beer for his money. All the more  She’d consider that a victory, a few worthless dollars taken from Eden’s Gate and in her pocket instead. Typical greedHis on-going issues with Mary May not withstanding…John had not come in under the paper-thin guise of intending to drink. No, he’d had a much more reasonable excuse of seeking out another potential member-to-be, who had not officially joined the Project yet. All the man had to do was play a part: drinking away his woes, his depression, his awareness in its entirety—a common enough ailment with a common enough response: poison them into submission until they thanked you for it, paid for it as a privilege. No one would question it.And no one would question John coming in to apparently try to reel the so-called “vulnerable” man in, hook, line, and sinker. All the sinners saw was the fact that the man had money, land, wealth. That was all they saw. That was all they assumed John saw too. Assumed that was what he was after, trying to “coax” the man further into joining the Project At Eden’s Gate. That of course had been more than enough to stir the ire of some of the locals. And with an off-duty Deputy on the scene? John had harbored no doubts it would lead to an opportunity to talk. Talk to this Deputy who had walked away…instead of breaking the first seal. Instead of heralding the Collapse.Joseph had been expecting the Collapse. Had been expecting the sinners to try to take him, the way that barking Marshal had.But the Deputy had refused.How interesting. Even more interesting was how swift the Deputy’s response had been, interposing himself between John and the rabble-rousers as quickly and naturally as falling rain. John had found himself staring at the back of the other man’s head, black hair trimmed close and neat, his silhouette a stark-edged shadow of a man imposing and broad shouldered, wrapped in a thin, grey cotton tee and denim blue jeans. It’d made him seem so strangely ordinary, like he was blending in when he should have been standing out, should have registered as a threat. Because he was a threat, no doubt about that.The drunkards had completely missed it. Unsurprising, the buffoons. They’d been startled, and then predictably mad, redirecting their anger to the obstacle that stood in the way of them indulging in their sins.It’d been the first time John had heard the Deputy speak.“Stand down.” Two words, quiet enough to be missed if the bar had been noisy at the time.Quiet…but not meek. Not weak. It was the quiet of knowing. Knowing just what one’s own self was capable of. The lack of fear that came with power…and clarity.The Deputy had found some revelation of his own at some point then, John was certain.The sinners obviously had not stood down, and had, predictably, taken the first swing at Deputy Rook, as John had expected of them, based on what he’d known of their character.He had not expected Deputy Rook to put all three men down with such quick and clean efficiency. No wounding or serious injury, just enough force to subdue, just enough pain to quiet.Beautiful. That had been a beautiful display of skill. Of violence, so pinpoint and precise, it’d been almost gentle. The Deputy had been moving so smoothly and gracefully, he’d almost seemed to slow down, moving just fast enough to anticipate the men flailing around him like they were extras in a slapstick comedy.It’d been too easy. Too smooth. Too pretty.The Deputy wasn’t even challenged by this.He was holding back.That interested John immensely.The Deputy’s head turned, just enough to catch John in his peripheral vision as John circled to one side. The moment was long, before the tension was snipped as easily as the Fates cutting a thread, and the Deputy looked away towards where Mary May was moving towards them with a scowl half a mile long. The Deputy pointed to the phone, and Mary May stopped, her glower fading somewhat as understanding trickled in. She gave a sharp nod, unhappy about all this not because of the brawl, but because it involved John Seed as all present company could tell from the dirty look she shot him before she turned to call the Sheriff’s Department.“Deputy.”The Deputy didn’t look at John, only barely moving his head again to draw John back into the periphery of his gaze, never looking at him directly, head canting a tiny bit to one side as if listening, as if to say go ahead, I’m listening.

There was a faint trace of wariness in the Deputy’s expression.He still wouldn’t look at John.That rankled most of all, and piqued John’s curiosity in equal measures.Why? Why was the Deputy acting like this? What reason did he have for these little eccentricities? Eccentricities that heretofore, had never been remarked upon? The odd stretches of silence in place of words, the select self-expression through subdued gestures and looks alone…the choices made, both then and now.John had to try something. “Declan.”That got the Deputy’s attention, enough for that pair of dark brown eyes almost darkened to black in how the light fell.John smiled, a little victory well worth the cost of this trip into a den of inequity. Nothing substantial, yet. But a foot in the door was all he needed.“Thank you for your services, Deputy, though if I might ask…why did you step in so quickly? Nothing had happened yet, and it is your night off, isn’t it?”The Deputy looked at John for a long, long, long moment…before tilting his head another inch to one side.It was vaguely infuriating in that the Deputy was clearly communicating something but John wasn’t familiar enough with the man to know what. An emotional state of being, and some form of sentiment, yes, not an indication regarding their surroundings or to draw John’s attention to some other event starting up around them.Why was he so quiet? The word from the grapevine had given no previous indication he’d been anything but an ordinary man in the day to day portraiture of his character according to John’s sources.John could hear the crunch and crackle of dirt under car tires outside—back up likely. What a short window of time that had been, the other Deputy must have been nearby when the call went out to dispatch then.He had time for one more question then. “Why didn’t you simply walk away? Just sent out a call and let your colleague pick up the job.”John already knew, it was why he’d staged this entire self-contained mess. Deputy Declan Rook was a man of duty, that much Nancy had been sure of.What he was asking, really asking, was why Deputy Declan had walked away, through the allusion of word choice buried in a seemingly innocent question.He could tell that the Deputy got it. That the other man understood, just by the minute shift in his expression as he looked at John.But still the Deputy said nothing.“Rook, you alright? Mary May called up and said you’d been in a bar fight,” Deputy Hudson said, the sound of her footsteps filling the silence in place of any answer Deputy Rook might have given.“Or rather ended one, from the looks of things,” She concluded, eying the pile of groaning men upon the floor.The Deputy’s attention was on Hudson now, shaking his head and giving her a little reassuring smile, as if to say no injuries, I’m fine, as are they, just a little banged up.How disappointing, and how strange.But the little furrow of Hudson’s brow in addition to the slight frown upon her face when she looked at Deputy Rook was more promising.

This was relatively new behavior to her as well then, not just Deputy Rook choosing to be oddly silent in the moment. She didn’t understand why the Deputy was behaving so oddly either.She most certainly was not happy upon laying eyes on John himself though. He plastered on yet another smile, knowing exactly how this conversation was going to go down, her taking a statement, and the whole matter dwindling down as to yet another weekend dust-up to write up and add to the paperwork at the Sheriff’s Department.But Deputy Rook was hiding something. Holding back, as he had in the fight earlier. Holding back even as he was now with Deputy Hudson as they sorted out the aftermath of the fight.It left John with more questions than he’d started. But he had gotten a few new answers among it all.How interesting.

[ma-sulevin]

No rest for the wicked.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 6071, chapter seven of thirteen (probably).

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

---

Mattie wakes up warm and sore in both the usual ways and in new ones. Her muscles ache from days of walking and fighting, and her thighs ache from her first good fuck since moving to Hope County. She smiles at the memory, tucking her face closer against Sharky’s chest. They’re still tangled together -- it doesn’t seem like they’ve moved all night, even though she knows he doesn’t sleep as hard as she does -- and he’s still holding her as closely as he was when she crawled in bed with him.

The second she starts to shift around, Sharky squeezes her. He’s been awake, holding her while she had a blessedly dreamless sleep, just waiting for her to come back to consciousness on her own. She doesn’t want to sound too poetic, but her heart skips a beat as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, then her forehead, then her nose as he tips her face up.

She smiles and laughs as he presses more kisses to her skin, heating under his attention until he makes it to his goal between her thighs. She throws her arm over her face to hide her eyes as he makes himself comfortable with her heels resting on his back and his arms hooked around her legs to hold her hips steady as he begins to taste her.

They haven’t even said good morning yet, and he’s already got his tongue buried so far in her cunt she’s forgotten how to breathe.

He licks her until she’s not sure she can take any more, until her throat is raw from crying out her pleasure and her thighs are trembling where they’re clamped around his head. When she curls in on herself to get away from the sensation, he follows her, moving with her until she comes again and again, until she has to push him away with both hands on his head and one foot on his shoulder.

He climbs up the bed beside her, laughing as he presses a wet kiss to her lips, then collapses against her side, right hand working hard between his own legs. She tries to reach for him with shaking hands, but he grabs her wandering fingers with his free hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles before holding it captive to his chest. 

“Sharky?” She says his name, uncertain, voice still hoarse, and he squeezes her fingers as he comes onto his stomach, coating his fingers and groaning through it. She watches with lips parted, breath still coming in hard gasps as she calms down.

She has never, ever been with a guy who enjoyed eating her out that much.

“Holy shit,” he says, finally, voice deep with arousal and still a little sleep. 

“Yeah,” she laughs. “Holy shit.”

He turns his head to look at her, a wide, loopy smile on his face, and she can’t resist leaning in to kiss him again. 

“Good morning.” He speaks against her lips, lips curving into a smile as she kisses him again before pushing herself up to rest on her arms. 

“It is a good morning,” she says, and then she laughs again, stretching out her legs and flexing her toes to force some feeling into them. Sharky chuckles back at her, and she looks down at him with a soft smile. “Honestly, I kind of thought your stories were, uh, mostly bragging? But that was… fuck. ”

His smile transforms into a smirk. “C’mon, let me show you more,” he offers, starting to reach for her again, but she launches herself off the bed to get out of reach of his grasping hands. She stumbles a little, legs still shaking, and she leans most of her weight against the chest of drawers by the door. It rattles dangerously, empty since its owners left, and she starts to laugh as Sharky does.

“Babe,” she says, the nickname dripping from her lips like it’s always belonged there, and her heart does a little skip when Sharky’s eyes practically turn into hearts. “We don’t have time. We gotta -- well, I gotta talk to Joey, see what the plan is. You can come with, or not, but I have to shower first.”

Sharky pretends to consider for a minute, flexing his sticky hand, then shrugs. “Lead the way, Po-po.”

---

In the end, it’s nearly noon by the time Mattie’s clean and dressed and ready to get back to fucking up the Seeds’ day. She’d love to just let Sharky lure her back into their borrowed bed, wear her out again and again until she can just sleep without dreaming again, really relax for the first time since Burke showed up in Hope County with a warrant in his hand and a smirk on his stupid face. She’d love to forget, just for another day (or two), everything going on around her, the fires raging that only she can put out.

But Jacob still has Staci, and Faith still has Burke, and someone has to do something about it.

Joey’s sitting out in front of the Spread Eagle, a mug of steaming coffee in her hands and her rifle across her lap. She looks clean, hair still a little damp, the healing scabs and bruises on her visible skin more obvious in the bright sunlight. She squints at Mattie as Mattie draws closer, her tense expression melting into a smile.

“Rookie.”

Mattie huffs a laugh and settles in the other chair, carefully not reaching out to touch Joey like she wants, like she used to offer a hug or a light punch in greeting. Joey’s defensiveness from John’s bunker is still a harsh, fresh memory, and Mattie’s determined to be respectful no matter how wrong it feels. It’s still the right thing to do.

“Hey, Jo.” Mattie props one foot up on the bar’s railing and fishes her cigarettes out of her bag. She offers one to Joey before shrugging and lighting it herself.

Silence and smoke drifts between them, almost as comfortably as it did before all this. 

Almost, but not quite. Mattie’s guilt is stifling her, even if it doesn’t quite meet Joey. Despite everything, despite having Joey safe next to her, Mattie’s nearly overwhelmed by the knowledge she should have done more. She should have been faster.

The forty marks on her arm, now hidden by her jacket, don’t do enough to reassure her that she’s literally giving everything she has to this god-forsaken county.

“Mary May says Jacob and Faith are still alive.”

Mattie tilts her head just enough toward Joey to look at her out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah.”

“You came for me first?” Her broken fingernails tap against her mug. Tap tap tap. 

“Yeah. I’ve been all over, but… I couldn’t leave you with John.” Joey hums a little, just an acknowledgement, and Mattie continues, “I haven’t seen Burke yet. Whitehorse is okay, over at the jail with Minkler. Jacob has Staci, and he…”

Joey sighs, a short, sharp, reproachful sound. Mattie winces. “John, that mother fucker, told me all about it. You gotta get Staci out of there, Rook.”

Mattie nods. “Yeah. I know.”

Joey turns to look at her, fingers still. Mattie looks up to meet her gaze, ashamed eyes meeting Joey’s defiant ones.

“No. Now. You go now, and you kill Jacob, and you bring Staci back here. You hear me?”

Mattie’s nodding before Joey’s done speaking. “Okay. I will. Promise. You, you staying here?”

Joey nods. “I trust you. You got me, you can get him. I’ll just slow you down.”

“Okay. I will.” She breaks Joey’s gaze and stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray on the rail. “I’ll be back, Jo.” She hesitates, then adds, “I love you.”

Joey’s hand snaps out as Mattie stands, grabbing her wrist. Joey’s skin is too hot against hers, warmed by her coffee. “Hey. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Go kick that fucker’s ass, okay?”

Mattie would walk right into Joseph’s compound today if Joey told her to. She smiles, hopes Joey won’t notice her eyes getting a little watery. “Okay.”

“And I love you too.”

Mattie smiles wider and pulls her pack up and on her back. She turns to go, gets a few feet away before Joey calls out with a laugh in her voice, “And tell whoever you spent the night with to be more careful about those hickeys! You’re not in high school!”

She doesn’t turn around, just lifts her right hand up with her middle finger pointing high. Joey’s laugh is loud, then gets louder when Sharky appears with his own bag, grabbing Mattie around the waist to give her a sound kiss like it’s totally normal, like it’s something they’ve been doing every day. 

Mattie nearly knocks his hat off trying to catch her balance as she laughs too.

“Ready to head up to the mountains? I’ll see if Jess can meet us at the border.”

Sharky looks over Mattie’s shoulder towards the still-laughing Joey, then back down at Mattie with a smile. “Sure thing, boss. Let’s give ol’ Jake-n-Bake the business. Ride or die, remember?”

Mattie takes his hand in hers. “Ride or die.”

---

Jess meets them at the edge of the state park, her quiver bristling with arrows. She emerges from the trees with an eerie silence that makes Mattie shiver even as it makes her a little jealous -- she still can’t quite walk through the woods without snapping twigs and crunching leaves under her feet -- and her gaze immediately drops to the bruise on Mattie’s neck that she hadn’t bothered to hide even after Joey made fun of her for it.

Jess glances from the hickey to Sharky and then back to meet Mattie’s gaze, the really? clear on her face.

Mattie shrugs. Jess sighs.

Sharky’s either oblivious to the moment of tension or just doesn’t care, because he sidles up between the two women with a grin and his shotgun resting up on his shoulder. “Well ain’t you a sight, Jess?” he greets, grin just growing wider as she turns her silent glare up to him. “Saddle up and join the team!”

After a moment, her face cracks, and she grins right back at Sharky, her scars pulling the expression up oddly. It’s cute, and the knot of tension in Mattie’s chest dissipates as quickly as it came.

“Do you know where we can start?”

Jess nods. “Elk Jaw Lodge isn’t far from here. Peggies took it a while ago, and taking it back’ll hurt ‘em.”

Mattie smiles. “Perfect. Lead the way.”

Jess does, though Mattie makes them stop to liberate a peggie vehicle on the way. If she drives carefully enough and Sharky stays in the back where he can stretch out his long legs next to Boomer, no one looks at them funny, even when they drive right past peggie checkpoints on the side of the road.

It’s the best camouflage she can think of, short of stripping some peggies naked and putting on their clothes which just look like they reek of BO. If she did that, though, she’d probably be able to drive right up to Jacob’s front door and blow his head clean off without trouble.

“You should pull over here,” Jess says, leaning forward in her seat and putting both feet on the floor of the van.

Mattie obeys, parking on the side of the road and killing the engine. She leaves the keys in the ignition as they all climb out together, not concerned with whether or not someone else will take the van while they’re busy with the lodge. It’s not like it belongs to her anyway.

“Okay, we’re going to go in quiet,” Mattie says, looking right at Sharky. He blinks at her like he has no idea what she’s trying to say. “I’ll pick off as many as I can with my sniper rifle, and Jess, you can do the same with your bow?” She glances at Jess to see her nod, then she looks back at Sharky. “And once they notice what’s going on, then you can set them on fire, deal?”

Sharky huffs, but then he smiles. “You’re the boss!”

They stare at each other for a minute, then she nods, accepting his agreement. Jess is smirking again when she looks back, and Mattie just shrugs.

There’s no point in hiding what she and Sharky have become. Jess can laugh all she wants. It is… probably a little ridiculous, but Mattie doesn’t care. She’s going to take her little moment of happiness and hold on as tight as she can until this whole cult situation is taken care of.

They split up and head for opposite sides of the lodge. Mattie stays up on the hill side, laying on one of the stone outcroppings with her eye against the scope of her rifle, breathing slowly as she watches the peggies milling around the building. Jacob’s voice comes steadily over the speakers, but she’s not sure if the nonsense he’s spouting this time is a recording or some sort of weird-ass live sermon. It doesn’t seem like he’d be talking about his followers being judged by their animals the day after his little brother’s death, but who knows? She doesn’t understand the Seeds, not really. That’s why they have a leg up on her.

Sharky’s stretched out at her side, chin in his hands, humming a nonsense tune under his breath. He’s keeping a watch on the area around her, tasked momentarily with watching her back while she watches Jacob’s Chosen.

She pulls the trigger, and one falls behind a pile of bliss crates. No one else seems to notice, but Sharky jumps a little at the sudden noise. She smiles at him despite the curl of nausea in her gut. She hates this.

She hates it.

A moment later and another peggie falls under her watchful eye, then another. She happens to spot another peggie falling with an arrow in the back of his skull; Jess is holding up her end of the bargain even though Mattie can’t see her. She’s a good fuckin’ shot, that’s for sure.

Mattie sees the instant one of the peggies realizes what’s going on around him, watches the look of horror pass over his face as he sees one of the men she’d killed bleeding out on the sidewalk. He falls to his knees to check the fallen peggie’s pulse, and that’s the moment of hesitation Mattie needs. She takes him out too, then hears a cry from farther away.

“Sharky, go,” she says, and he scrambles to his feet with a wild cry that absolutely gives away their position. She doesn’t mind so much, watching through the scope as the peggies begin to scramble, one of them heading straight for the radio and falling when she shoots him in the back. Sharky takes their attention with him as he skids down the hill, flamethrower already spurting flame before he gets close, and she covers his back as he goes.

They’re a good team, all three of them. She doesn’t even really care when he accidentally sets off a stack of bliss barrels, making them explode and fill the air with the sickening sweet scent of the flowers, because Jess materializes next to him to punch him in the shoulder. 

They must have cleared the whole lodge. Perfect. She didn’t even die this time.

The lodge is full of dead wolves, the scent sharp enough that Sharky gags once it hits him. He doesn’t wait around to smell it again before he goes back outside to find Boomer, grumbling that the dog’s stink is better than this. Jess and Mattie continue on, noses wrinkled but lunches staying where they belong, searching through the building for anything useful. 

Mattie pockets $27 and some bandaids before her radio squawks to life. It feels like she hasn’t been in the Whitetails in weeks, so it takes her several seconds to recognize Eli’s staticky voice.

“Welcome back, Deputy!” he says, and she pulls her radio off her hip to hear him better. “ I’ve got some people coming down to meet you. ” A pause, then: “ We haven’t seen you for a while. Over. ”

She winces, taking a moment to just close her eyes and press her knuckles to her forehead. She knows when she’s being scolded, even as mild as Eli seems to be.

“Sorry about that,” she says, holding the talk button down with her thumb. She feels shaky and sick, suddenly, so she abandons her search of the lodge and heads outside. Eli’s men can finish up in here. “Been pretty busy in the Valley, but you got all my attention now, over.”

“Oh, we heard all about that,” he says, and she’s pretty sure he’s smiling. Her tension eases a bit as she steps into the sunlight, squinting against the brightness to find Sharky in the chaos of the peggies’ supplies. “We’re real proud of you. My guys’ll be there soon and they got a favor to ask, over.”

She finds Sharky on the side of the lodge facing the lake, just throwing rocks into it to watch the ripples. She smiles and leans against the wall to watch. “We’re happy to help. Whatever your boys need. Over.”

“We appreciate it. Over’n out.”

The radio falls silent, but she keeps the top of it pressed against her chin as she waits. The second tick by, but Jacob’s voice doesn’t come through once Eli’s has disappeared. Either he doesn’t know what she’s done yet, or he’s not concerned enough to drag her in for another round of training.

Boomer trots up to her and flops down at her feet, rolling over onto his back in the dirt. She pokes at him with the toe of her boot, and he wiggles from side to side, tongue lolling out of his mouth. If he’s not worried about Jacob’s men, she’s not going to bring it up and put that energy out there.

Sharky glances over his shoulder at her when she doesn’t say anything else. He looks her up and down, fast like he’s checking to see if she’s okay, then again a little slower so that his eyes linger on her chest. He winks at her when he’s done staring, and she huffs a tired laugh.

“You die yet today?”

What an absurd fucking question to ask under any other circumstances.

She shakes her head. “Not yet. Some of the Whitetails are comin’ down to take the lodge back over, then we have to do something for Eli.”

He nods, almost to himself, and wipes his hands off on his jeans. She’s still leaning against the lodge when he wraps her in a full-bodied hug, his arms around her and his chin on the top of her head. She ducks her chin against her chest so she’ll fit better, curling into his embrace like she never wants to leave… and she doesn’t, even when Jess opens the closest door and boos at them.

Mattie stifles a giggle against Sharky’s chest as he blows a raspberry at Jess.

It feels… good, normal, and the guilt at feeling that way when a war still rages on makes her pull away and walk around the lodge to the parking lot to wait for the Whitetails. Jess and Sharky follow her, bickering quietly, and Mattie wonders how well they actually know each other and what kind of answer she’s going to get if she asks. 

They sit out front and smoke her cigarettes while they wait. Mattie props her feet up in Sharky’s lap and leans against Jess without thinking about it, but Jess lets herself be used as a backrest without complaint.

They don’t bother moving again until Eli’s men show up.

She doesn't recognize them, just the Whitetail Militia insignia they're all wearing, but when they ask for her help to rescue some of the other militia members from Jacob’s clutches, she listens. She can't say no, can't ignore the desperation in their eyes.

The men she leaves with him will be killed or tortured like she was. The men who get caught going in after them will be killed or tortured like she was. 

She already escaped once. She took the lodge back.

She can do this. She has Sharky and Jess and Boomer, and they can do this.

They climb back in the peggie van and head north, following Jess’ directions and the signs up to the Whitetail visitor center. The roads are windy, sharply uphill, and Sharky complains about getting carsick until Jess finally switches with him to shut him up. He rolls his window down for the fresh air and reaches over to hold Mattie’s hand for the rest of the drive.

The Whitetail Visitor Center is exactly as Mattie has always pictured it, just also now crawling with peggies. It's beautiful and rustic, up on a hill, with one of Jacob’s chosen standing every hundred feet or so, watching for anyone who might dare to fight back against them. She hauls herself up a tree (with Sharky’s help) and uses her binoculars to check for hostages.

There are two men and a woman, all on their knees with their hands behind their backs. Why haven't they been moved yet? What's taking Jacob so long?

Mattie doesn't like this. She hates it. 

They take the Visitor Center the same way they take the lodge, and Mattie gets the pleasure of slicing through the makeshift handcuffs tying the Whitetails’ hands behind their backs. They thank her, praise her for killing the peggies so ruthlessly, beg her to go to Devil’s Drop to rescue the other men they were captured with.

It's never ending, and Mattie can't say no.

Devil’s Drop is, as the name makes it sound, so much higher up the mountain that Mattie resolutely keeps both hands on the wheel and refuses to look down. It’s dizzying, being up this high, and she absolutely hates it. She turns the radio down and grits her teeth, trying to stare directly at the road and not up at the mountains above or down at the steep drop off below. 

Even Sharky takes the hint and stays quiet until they park their borrowed van on the side of the  road. Eli breaks the silence first, coming in over the radio to tell them how to get into the Hawkeye Tunnel without dying right away, not that Mattie’s particularly worried about that. She would feel bad if the hostages are killed because she fucked up, so she listens, and she does what Eli says even though it requires climbing up the mountain on her own two feet and as soon as she gets the chance to kill Jacob she’s never ever coming back here.

This is the fucking worst.

The side entrance to the tunnel is what must be known as the Devil’s Drop, what should be a beautiful overlook turned into a place of torment for the Whitetails. There’s blood on the stones, both caked in and old and fresh from the bleeding woman on the end of a peggie’s baseball bat. He swings the bat as Mattie watches from higher up, cracking the woman’s head so that she falls without a sound.

Mattie sees red as he beats her again and again, shattering her skull for no reason other than a love of violence. She seethes and then she launches into action, leaping from her perch directly onto the peggie’s back to snap his neck.

It’s faster than the death he deserves, but it’s all she has time for when the men he was with start to yell out a warning to more men inside she can’t see.

Oops.

Jess stays hidden, picking off peggies with her arrows as they come into view. More than once Mattie takes aim only to find the man she was pointing at falling with an arrow in his throat.

Sharky jumps in like she did, and maybe he’s a bad influence on her fighting style, but he whoops to draw attention to himself and blasts through the wave of reinforcements with his shotgun, disappearing into the tunnel to get into more trouble.

Mattie stays where she is, defending the surviving hostage until the fighting stops and she’s able to slice through the zip tie holding his hands together. He thanks her and moves to check the woman lying dead at his side, his fingers searching fruitlessly for a pulse under the blood coating her face and neck. Mattie watches as it drips onto the stone floor, nauseated but unable to look away, until the man stands and leaves alone.

After a moment, Eli’s voice crackles over her radio, making her flinch away from the noise. “We lost some good people today, but you did the best you could,” he says, and she grimaces, not sure that’s true. The best she could would have been to save everyone. “Helping us take care of our own is gonna have a big impact on moral. Maybe you can get some more folks to join up too.” He pauses, and she rubs her forehead with bruised knuckles as she waits. “Shit, I knew Tammy was wrong about you. Congratulations, you’re one of us now. If you’ve got more time, I’ve got more work. Come see us in the Wolf’s Den when you’re ready. Over.”

She waits several long seconds before she says anything back, ignoring the temptation to just… not respond. She already knows she can’t just leave. “Thanks, Eli. I’ll see you soon. Over and out.”

The radio falls silent and she heaves a sigh of relief. She starts searching through the fallen peggie bodies for ammunition and cash, wondering when she stopped feeling bad about stealing from the dead.

“Better be careful, you might get zombie on you,” Sharky says, and she glances up with a retort on the tip of her tongue that she has to bite back when she realizes he has someone with him.

She stands straight, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin so she can meet the newcomer’s eyes. He’s tall, taller than Sharky, and familiar in a way that makes her wrack her brain to remember why she’s met him before. He has on Whitetail gear, but she doesn’t think he was in the Wolf’s Den last time she was there, and it isn’t until he reaches out to shake her hand with his (very large) one that she remembers.

“Jude Wright,” she says, and she watches his face bloom into a smile the same time Sharky’s twists into a little frown. “You warned us about this.”

“I tried,” he says, a wry chuckle slipping from him that she doesn’t think comes from a place of real humor. “Shit’s crazier now than when I started putting two and two together.”

Sharky comes around to stand by her side and throws one arm around her shoulders. She leans against him but doesn’t take her eyes off Jude.

“Yeah,” she says, and then because she doesn’t know what else to say, she adds, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, pulls the rubber band out of his hair to shake it out and twist it back up. “Listen, is Staci…” His question trails off, his eyes begging her to understand the rest of the question so he doesn’t have to spell it out, and her heart breaks just a little bit more.

He came to the station and asked for Staci specifically, and Mattie and Joey teased Staci about it relentlessly even though they knew it was just because Jude overheard Staci talking shit about the peggies and knew he was safe to go to with concerns. Apparently they were more right about the situation than they realized.

“Still with Jacob,” Mattie says, voice breaking when Jude’s face falls. “I’m getting him back. I promise.” 

He nods, tucks his hands into his pockets and stares at his shoes for a moment. When he looks back up at her, his eyes are red around the rim, and she leans harder into Sharky’s side.

“You have our support. Whatever you need to bring down Jacob.”

They stare at each other for a long silence, sizing each other up. Whatever he sees in her must make him trust her, because he nods again like his word is final, and he turns to leave. She won’t rest until she puts a knife through Jacob’s heart herself and bring Staci home, and he knows.

He understands.

---

Jacob’s men come for her in the middle of the night, while she’s curled up in an abandoned cabin with Sharky wrapped around her and Jess snoring on the couch in the other room. She barely wakes up in time to see the peggies tying her legs together before the bliss overtakes her.

She doesn’t hear snoring before she falls unconscious.

Only silence.

---

The next time she knows what’s happening to her, she’s lying on packed dirt as a man she doesn’t know tries to get her to drink water out of a bowl. Everything aches and she feels sick; even the water makes her stomach turn and she pushes the stranger away with a barely repressed gag.

“You must be strong,” someone says, not the man in front of her, because he flinches away. “One of you will be strong,” someone says again, and this time she’s able to push through the haze of bliss and pain to recognize Staci.

He’s at the bars of their cage, staring right at her.

She will be strong.

She nods at him, fast, and he has time to smile at her before Jacob shoos him away. He scurries away, bowing his head and clasping his hands together at his front, looking nothing like the Staci Pratt who had teased her relentlessly when she joined the Sheriff’s department, practically pulling her pigtails until she realized she could pull his right back.

She’s going to kill Jacob Seed with her bare hands if it’s the last thing she ever does.

The man in question is currently embracing, of all people, Joseph, and Mattie’s grinds her teeth together so hard she’s practically foaming at the mouth to get to him. She grabs the bars of her cage and uses them to haul herself up to a kneeling position, furious and weak and shaking, and Joseph turns to her with the same fucking calm expression he always has.

She wants to spit in his face, considers it, but then he starts talking and she’s distracted enough to forget the impulse.

“I know you’re in pain,” he says, kneeling and holding onto the cage bars too. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh.”

The verse is like a slap to the face, the same words her own father used to say to her when he would punish her for some perceived slight. She rears back a little, but Joseph doesn’t hesitate, just keeps fucking going. 

“You’re not the only one to be tested. Did you know I had a wife?”

She’s so surprised by the admission that she actually shakes her head at him, answering his question even though he doesn’t stop to wait for a reply before he’s showing her a tattoo on his wrist. She’s beautiful, as far as Mattie can see in the dim light, and the feeling of dread grows as Joseph finishes his story.

“We were pregnant with our first child. We were just babies ourselves, and I was terrified. Of becoming a father, mostly about money. She wasn’t worried. She had faith everything would work out. She always had… faith. Then, one day, she was gonna go visit a friend… there was an accident. The Lord taketh. They rushed me to the hospital and put me in a room with this little pink bundle stuffed with tubes, and they said that I had to be strong, that my little girl was going to live. God was looking out for our daughter.”

No one has ever mentioned another Seed. No one has ever mentioned Joseph having a daughter. Watching the blankness in his eyes makes her stomach roll again, and dread grows heavy inside of her. She grips the bars tighter, leans closer, waits for him to say the words she knows he’s going to say.

“They left me alone in the room with her, and I just… stared at my daughter.” He cuts his eyes back to her when he says daughter and she tightens her grip on the bars to avoid flinching away. Somehow, she’s sure he knows. “So helpless, so innocent. And all she had in the world was me.” His lip trembles and sympathy fights with the Wrath still in Mattie’s heart. “A nobody from nowhere with nothing. In that moment… I knew that God was testing me. He was laying out a path before me, and all I had to do was choose. So I put my hand on my little girl’s head, and I leaned in, and I could smell… And we prayed together. Prayed for wisdom, prayed for strength, and I knew… I heard God’s plan for me. I took my fingers and I put them on that little plastic tube that was taped to her angelic face and I pinched it shut.”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. She’s holding onto the bars so tight her joints ache, her knuckles white. If she could tear his throat out with her bare teeth right now, she would, and damn the consequences. She’ll do it a thousand times and let herself be dragged back to this exact spot a thousand more times before she’d be able to soothe the hate lodged tight in her soul.

Joseph stares back at her like he knows what she’s thinking, like he’s fully privy to the mental pictures swirling faster and faster through her head.

Maybe he is.

“After a while her legs began to kick and kick, and then… nothing. Stillness. Release. The Lord giveth and the Lord… taketh. ” He stands and pulls her with him, and she leans so close to the bars she can smell him. “The pain, the sacrifice, this is all part of His test. We have to prove that we can serve God, no matter what He asks.”

He touches her cheek with his rosary-wrapped hand, and she bares her teeth to him. He smiles like he knows, like he knows what she’s going through. The pain and the sacrifice of giving her life over and over and over until she has nothing left? The pain of seeing her loved ones die over and over and over until she doesn’t even flinch at a grenade that lands between them? The pain of watching the Seeds ruin the first county that’s ever felt like home to her?

She turns with the intention of biting his fingers, but he pulls away before she can, leaving her to gnash her teeth at the empty air around her. She doesn’t look at Staci, doesn’t look away from Joseph and Jacob as she shoves herself as close to the cage bars as she can, pushing one arm through like she’ll be able to haul Joseph back to her so she can gouge his eyes out.

Jacob sees her reaching and just smirks as he winds the music box.

She falls unconscious with a scream.

---

She wakes up sore and bruised and exhausted at the bottom of Devil’s Drop, shattered bodies around her. She doesn’t know if she died on impact like the rest of them only to be pieced back together by whatever has been keeping her alive, but she doesn’t really care.

She doesn’t fucking care anymore.

She radios Sharky, finds out he woke up back in his home in the Henbane, and tells him to meet her back at the Clagett Boathouse. She says if he finds Jess or Boomer to bring them too, and he grumbles about wanting to pick up Hurk, and then he agrees to meet her as soon as he can.

The radio falls silent for several seconds before she brings her shaking hand up to her face.

“I love you, Sharky. Over.”

The line crackles. “I love you, shorty. See ya soon. Over’n’out.”

[farcryfuckmeup]

Can you do a “don’t do this here” with a possessive Johnny boy please??

Tired and Haggard

wc: 2,003

sorry if this isn’t as good as my usual stuff, i had gotten half-way through and scrapped it. take a peek at my masterlist for more content! my requests and commissions are open!

Her knee was bouncing a mile a minute as she looked out the window, watching the scenery go by. When John placed his hand on her leg to get her to sit still, she started to tear at the skin on the inside of her lip, and when John pulled her bottom lip from her teeth and chided her, she started to tap the window with her knuckles.

“For Christ’s sake Rook, can you sit still for five minutes?” John turned down the radio as he looked over at the Deputy, and her fingers froze against the passenger window as she shot him a glare.

“No John, I can not sit still because in about twenty minutes I’m going to try and pull off a move so assinine my father would laugh at me.” She started to raise her voice as the anxiety moved from her stomach up to her chest, and her leg began bouncing again.

“It’s not assinine. It’s going to be hard considering neither of us wants to give up on what we want, but you have a good reason for doing it.” As John said the words ‘good reason’, she felt his hand cover her own and give it a slight squeeze. She nodded hesitantly before moving her fingers around his so that she could fidget with them to try and ease her anxiety.

The drive to The Spread Eagle felt like it was dragging on for an hour when in reality it was only twenty or twenty-five minutes. John and Rook talked about what they should do when they arrive at the bar since she’d made the executive decision to drive her car. John was too much of a gentleman so he got stuck behind the wheel. 

When they got there, Rook was going to get out and go inside first while John sat in the car and waited for his siblings, then John would come inside with the rest of the Seeds. But when it came time to leave, Rook found herself glued to the seat.

“My dear, it’s time to go,” John ran his hand up and down her thigh in a show of comfort when he realized his girlfriend had all but turned to stone. Very slowly, Rook’s head turned to look at him, and he noticed she had tears in her eyes. “Rook, darling-”

“-Don’t say it’ll be okay. Please, just-I can’t hear you say it’ll be okay when we have no idea what’s going to happen in there.” Her voice was wobbling a bit and her hand darted out to cover John’s lips before he could try to comfort her. She could see it in his eyes that he was worried.

John reached up to wipe away her tears and nodded in understanding, watching carefully as Rook started to climb over the middle console towards the driver seat.

“What on Earth are you doing?” John couldn’t help but softly laugh as he watched his deputy maneuver around the car until she was straddling his lap. Rook didn’t answer. She just took John’s face in her hands and kissed him a bit more roughly than he was used to. It took John by surprise, but he quickly moved his hands over Rook’s shoulderblades to hold her against his chest.

Rook was the one to pull away first, her grip on John’s shirt causing the fabric to wrinkle a bit. She took some deep breaths before opening the door and carefully climbing out. 

She braced her hand against the top of the car before leaning back down and pressing a kiss to John’s cheek, letting her lips linger a little longer than she should.

“No matter what happens, Rook. I love you.”

❦

If there was ever a time that Rook wished she could turn on that stupid song and murder everyone in a room, it was right now. The Valley was in the middle of a heatwave, and being stuck inside The Spread Eagle with ten other people wasn’t helping the situation.

Sweat was dripping down Rook’s back, making her clothes stick to her body in uncomfortable ways. She scratched at the back of her neck before shifting her ponytail over her shoulder so it was off her skin. Her head was pounding from all the arguing and stress.

This had been her idea and now she was kicking herself in the ass for it. She’d managed to get both sides to agree to a temporary armistice for negotiations. Whitehorse and Virgil were there representing the Cougars, Eli and Tammy were representing the Whitetail Militia, and Pastor Jerome and Mary-May represented the Valley. At the front of the Resistance was Rook herself, being forced to stare down the Heralds. 

Across the room from them was the Seeds. Joseph was in front with John and Jacob flanking him, and Faith was lounging on one of the pool tables. 

In Rook’s mind, the best-case scenario was that some sort of deal was struck and everyone would go about minding their business. At the thought of things working out peacefully, she glanced over at John, who was already staring at her with those bright blue eyes she loved so much. Her stomach flipped and she forced herself to look away. If an agreement couldn’t be reached, there was no way the Resistance was going to let the Seeds walk out of the bar.

Rook had zoned out for a moment, her mind whirling around all the different things that could go wrong.

"It's what we are offering Sheriff, nothing more. We will let the people of Hope County come to us as long as the Deputy agrees to stay with us. We get to keep our practices, however." Joseph's voice was still calm despite the raised voices of the Resistance. Rook looked over at Joseph with a glint of hope in her eyes. Yes! Yes! This works! 

Before the Deputy could respond in agreement to the deal, Eli jumped in and her friends had pulled her back towards the Sheriff and Tammy.

"No way in hell are you getting the Dep!"

"She'd rather die than go with you." Mary-May spoke up and Rook recognized the irritated tick in John's hand as he stepped forward.

"Would she? Seems all of you are determined for it to end that way. Look at her! She's worn to the god damn bone! Always demanding this and demanding that! I found your poor little deputy passed out in the middle of the road once!" John raised his voice and Joseph had to put his hand against his younger brother's chest to avoid a physical confrontation. 

It was how their relationship had started. He'd admired Rook's loyalty to her people, so when a few cultists found her unconscious in the Valley one day, John ordered her back to the ranch. It was where she stayed until she was recuperated enough to slip out in the middle of the night.

Rook felt her cheeks burn and her head hung at John's comment. He wasn't wrong. As much as she wanted to help them, Rook's health had nosedived recently. She caught colds more often than she did before and she had lost weight at an alarming rate the last few weeks. John made Rook see one of the Project's doctors at least every other week.

"That would be your fault, wouldn't it? Chasing her around the county the way you do. She's fighting against you, and maybe if ya'll just stop, she wouldn't have so much shit to do." Tammy sneered as she countered John's argument, but Rook turned her head to look at the woman in slight disbelief. 

“You clearly don’t know your deputy as well as I do, sinner.” John fired back, his eyes narrow and alight with wrath. Rook stepped towards John with an eyebrow raised, quietly telling him to shut up, but he was too riled up at this point. He caught her expression and balked, his jaw slack in disbelief.

“They are running you into the ground, deputy! Do they have any idea what they are doing to you?” John held his hands out, gesturing wildly as he tried to stand up for her well-being. The Resistance wanted a fight or complete surrender, and John knew better than most that she didn’t have much fight left in her.

“Don’t do this here, John. Not now.” Rook warned him as Tammy and Whitehorse looked at Rook in confusion. The questions they had weren’t hard to guess. Why was John Seed sticking up for you? What had she been telling him that they didn’t know? Why was Rook telling him things they didn’t know?

“Don’t do what? Tell your little friends that you had an ulcer from the amount of stress they’ve been putting you through? Don’t tell them that even Brother Jacob took pity on you when you dropped unconscious in the middle of a trial!” Rook’s cheeks turned bright red as John brought up a few of the things that had caused Joseph and his siblings to consider a deal. Despite the goals for the Project, Joseph saw how the deputy was changing John for the better and healing his past. He couldn’t stand to take that away from his younger brother, even if they caused Rook’s death indirectly. That was a sin Joseph was willing to carry.

“Rook? The hell is he talking about?” Eli turned to the deputy, but he didn’t sound angry. Instead, he sounded concerned as he placed a hand on Rook’s shoulder. She looked up at him hesitantly and eventually nodded.

“I’m wearing myself thin Eli. I never got sick, then I came to Hope County, and started doing all these things I ain’t used to, and...something’s always wrong with me.” Rook shrugged and for a moment she felt like a child talking to a parent. She felt guilty. Like she’d hidden something important from an adult, but when Whitehorse turned her to look at him, she could tell she had.

“You should’ve told us Rook, I...shit, I’m so sorry,” Whitehorse patted her arm before turning to face the Seeds again. “We’ll negotiate.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Is nobody going to bother asking how the fuck John Seed knows all of that? Or anything about Rook for that matter!” Tammy was furious, and normally Rook would’ve understood and agreed with her. But her shoulders ached, her entire body felt like it was going to turn to dust, and a nap sounded really good right now. She knew it was only a matter of time.

“Tammy, if we kill the Deputy by runnin’ her into the ground, then we might as well give up now. It ain’t no business of ours who the Deputy decides to associate herself with, not when she’s saved as many of us as she has.” Eli snapped at her, his face contorted in discontent. Rook was surprised Eli had spoken up like he did, for she knew how much he hated Jacob Seed and the rest of the cult. 

“Eli is right. We’ve been putting too much on the deputy. Fall’s End is open to talking.” Jerome spoke up with a solemn look on his face. Rook’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Cougars are open to it.”

“So are the Whitetail. This has to end before we all end up dead.” Eli nodded to Rook apologetically.

When she’d originally hatched the plan to open up a compromise, she knew no one would like it. It would be rough, exhausting, and extremely tense. But the fighting could stop. Bullets would stop flying through the air, people wouldn’t go missing in the middle of the night.

She couldn’t help but rush over to John and receive a bone-crushing hug from him as tears started to stream down her face. It was won. She did her worst, she’d tried her best. Everything was far from over and she couldn’t rest yet, but Rook was determined to make this work. For everyone.

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