a kiss for the first time--for my wifey jude pls <3
okay @unholymilf we're pretending that I didn't take three fucking years to answer this prompt okay because I finally actually did it! Evil bitch/Herald Judith convinces her husband to get a pet.
How much mileage has this fandom gotten out of "You have to love them, John" ?????
"I want her."
John looked at his wife thoughtfully, watching her face in the flickering light of the security footage. He turned back to watch the deputy methodically shoot three men and bludgeon a fourth with her empty handgun. She bared her teeth and threw the gun aside, unsheathing a wicked knife; in a grainy blur, a dog enters frame and sinks his teeth into the last man's thigh. The deputy wastes no time leaping across the distance and jamming her knife into his neck. She pats the dog and snarls at the camera before disappearing.
"That one? Really?" John curled his lip with disdain.
Judith shoves his shoulder gently, leaning down to kiss his neck. "Yes, that one." She bites the lobe of his ear just hard enough to make him hiss. "I want her."
He huffs a dramatic sigh. "Well, who am I to deny you something you want, but you know she's with Jacob right now, and he doesn't like to share his toys."
"He breaks them," she drawls, "and throws them away. Who better to scoop up a beautiful broken toy than us, darling?"
//
Elliot Honeysett hadn't written off the chance that she was dead. She'd been in a helicopter crash, drowned, shot, stabbed, burned, drowned again, starved, tortured, beaten, and tortured some more. Now she lay at the bottom of what may as well have been a fucking canyon, surrounded by bodies, and all she really wanted to do was stare at the sky. It was just so damn blue. She pushed herself up, pretty sure at least one of her ribs was broken.
It took longer than she'd admit to anyone before she was fully standing, but at least (at least?) that confirmed that she was fully alive. Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
A twig snapped behind her and twisting to face it made her want to scream in pain and frustration.
"Fucking what now?" she hissed under her breath.
The woman behind her made Elliot wonder if she was dead again, which, over-dramatic, but something about her seemed faintly angelic nonetheless. Even from a distance, the luminous sky-like blue of her eyes was visible. Her red hair glowed in the sunlight coming through the trees, and she was... clean.
Woods for miles around, mud and blood and Peggies and god knows what else in the surrounding area, and here comes this woman in ragged but clean clothes. Her skin was milk-pale and unblemished, though tell-tale edges of scar tissue peeked out from the neck of her tank top.
She moved closer as Elliot was watched, and Elliot raised her knife to keep an arm's length between them.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Elliott could swear the other woman pouted for a moment. "I know a place where you'll be safe and can get patched up."
"Yeah? Which shitty bunker is that?"
The woman sighed, edging almost imperceptibly forward. "I'm sorry we're getting off on the wrong foot. I'm Judith." Her right hand started to move, and Elliot swung wildly to counter, feeling slow and imprecise; Judith's hiss at the brief connection of the knife brought a flash of victory before she said, "You'll forgive me for this eventually."
Elliot felt the burn of the syringe in the meat of her shoulder.
"Motherf--"
//
The room where Elliot was set to awaken was Judith Seed's pride and joy--a deep blue-green with a double bed, a small sink and vanity, a pair of comfortable armchairs and a low table. All the furniture bolted down, of course, with shatterproof glass in the mirror and windows; some enterprising soul might think to shred the tasteful curtains and bedding, but the windows didn't open and there were no high points for leverage.
She did love to play hostess.
Her guest was rousing. She watched the twitching of her delicately veined eyelids and wheat-colored eyelashes. Elliot's sharp rosebud of a mouth twisted into something troubled, and she moaned in the back of her throat. Jude shivered.
The door opened and shut quickly behind her. John placed a large, warm hand on her shoulder. "Is she awake?"
"Almost."
The second presence in the room seemed to shock Elliot to consciousness; she sat bolt upright, one hand lifted to her forehead. "Where?" The word rasped through her dry throat.
"I told you I knew somewhere safe for you."
Judith knew the image she and John presented like this: beautiful and dangerous, sensuous and terrible, glittering like snakes. Elliot's blue eyes darkened as she took them in, lips parted, pulse hammering almost visibly in her delicious throat. Judith wanted to trace it with her tongue.
Elliot's face curled into a suspicious, spiteful frown as Jude stood and walked toward her. "What's next in this twisted little game, huh?"
One hand raised to cup her sharp chin, Judith reveled in the speeding of her pulse, the tightening of muscles in her throat, the brave, stubborn way Elliot refused to flinch from her touch. She looked at John for a moment. She couldn't resist.
"Now, little hellcat..."
She leaned down, amber perfume enveloping them both, and brushed her lips gently once, twice across the other woman's.
your DIALOGUE! i always remember your dialogue, snappy and so so funny, i know i read more stuff before it but that john/wes/ell piece you wrote was so fucking funny i literally went back and re-read it so many times. your comedy pacing is just so good ;_______;
re-read it.......... stop before u make me burst into tears ash... this is so nice ghbngnh
1, 3, 10, 13, & 20 for john/cora please and thank u <3
Thank u for asking Ash!! <3 Spoilering for length.
1. What was their first impression of each other?
Fully welcomed their hatred of each other. Man it feels good to have an enemy. The 1 second of attraction before they both opened their mouths doesn't count.
3. Describe their relationship dynamic.
-Stop Making Me Forget You're My Nemesis.
-Highly educated enemies that cancel out each other's braincells when in the same vicinity.
-Belligerent sexual tension with height difference.
-"Oh no. Handcuffs? What ever shall I do? :))))))"
-"I can accept war crimes, but I draw the line at making me feel emotion. Prepare to die."
10. What are their love languages?
-John: Acts of service and gift-giving. Man sweeps an entire county clean just to prove himself to his big brother. Can't tell me this guy isn't constantly finding new things to make a show of doing for people he loves. He's all about gestures when it comes to other people.
-Cora: Quality time and words of affirmation. Cora doesn't need this, but she understands how important it can be for other people. Especially John. When she loves someone enough, she's happy to put reservations aside and put time into being present and listen.
-Between the both of them: Physical touch. I like to think John idly does dishes while Cora listens to him chatter. He'll think out loud and she'll weigh in every now and again with her arms around his waist, helping him organise his thoughts while he helps her organise the house.
13. Who dies first? How does the other one react?
Cora, probably. But I can imagine John going months later, tops. Death can't stop their co-dependency.
20. What does a typical date look like for them?
Something quiet, honestly. I can see dates as agreements to take the day off and nap together. Something just low-key and low-effort.
ASH THAT'S SO MANY SENTENCES i love u so much thank u..
They breathe together for a few moments. Pratt's eyes have fallen shut, though tears still glisten at the corners and along his lashes. "There's nothing for you out there," Jacob says. Promises. Reassures. "There's only me."
🌳 What does your OC do when they see others upset or in pain? An upset friend? A stranger?
- It's not very often that Cora will even notice that someone else is hurting. She's pretty awful at reading people, and even if she would come to the correct conclusion, she's not equipped for emotional support.
If you need someone to sit by in total silence while you cry, Cora's good company.
🌲 What is the kindest thing your OC has ever done for someone? What is the kindest thing someone has ever done for them? On the flip side, what is the worst thing your OC has done to another person?
- Stayed away from them.
- Not pressed charges against her.
- Abandonment. She's got a long history of dropping people out of the blue as soon as she has an excuse to do so.
🍁 What is your OC’s most traumatic experience? (If they don’t have just one traumatic experience either pick one or describe them all!)
- Oh baby the worst is yet to come : )
- Cora processes trauma strangely. She can deal with a LOT, but her sense of self and her sovereignty are a touchy subject. For example, cracking her head open in a helicopter crash wasn't nearly as troubling as Joseph insisting she'd spoken to him in his dreams. The idea of the Project having some divine control over where she'll end up is a terrifying concept to her.
John tattooing her will be something she internalises.
Honestly I LOVE writing Audry and Staci. But Audry with anybody gets me too.
Enemies to lovers enemies to lovers enemies to lovers ene-
She lost it. The look of defeat that came from Staci, the slump in his shoulders. He looked… Like a shell. No longer fighting to be the person he once was. Knowing he wouldn’t return to her bed, choosing instead to be at Jacob’s beck and call 24/7. Knowing Staci Pratt would cease to exist, leaving a mindless, broken zombie in his wake.
well, as i'm sure everyone can tell from the copious amount of fic for them that i am producing and posting on a regular basis, john x lyra ( but tbh any lyra ship is usually a riot ), mostly because i'm extremely comfortable writing for both of them or switching povs, but also because thematically they let me lean into my preferences ( murdercouples, affably evil personality types, angst ) while also being at level 10 from minute 1 and letting me skip to the fun bits.
💎 fav trope to write?
major character death, enemies to lovers ( preferably enemies-as-lovers/Enemy Mine ), that hyper-specific kind of slow burn that isn't a slow burn at all and they've been fucking from day one but are only privately obsessively abysmally in love
🍄how do you get yourself in the mood to write?
unfortunately, since i have to have pretty strictly scheduled writing windows for university & work, the writing i do for me more or less happens when it happens ( which is inconsistent as all hell but often happens when i'm on a walk outside, in the bath at night, or when i'm just "jotting this one idea down" in between tasks and emerge twenty minutes later ).
for what it's worth, my ritual for the aforementioned strictly scheduled writing is usually to get some sort of physical exercise to wake my mind up ( even if it's just pacing in my room while i gather my thoughts ), slam coffee, crank the ambient noise/music/atmosphere youtube videos ( i used to rely on coffee shops but that obviously wasn't practical this past year ) and then target writing 3k words in 30 minutes. a lot of what i get down might not be usable, but usually i'll have at a minimum a starter or a better idea of the direction i'm taking.
