1 - 20 of 23 Works by devils_trap
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After locking up, the question bubbles out of Benson’s chest like a belch, bleach flavored. The store key’s still in the lock and for once the exhaustion in his bones has beaten out the shrieking air raid sirens that've been howling in Benson's skull since his childhood. So Benson just does, no forethought or deeper examination involved. Allows himself the mercy of not looking too closely at why he’d ever think getting Bradley liquor loose and pliable would end up well for either of them.
“You wanna go get a beer?” A pause, the store key halfway turned into the locking position. He flicks it over the rest of the way to avoid having to go back inside and rearm the security system. “You old enough to even fuckin’ drink?”
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put me back together (or separate this skin from bone) by devils_trap
Fandoms: The Passenger (Movie 2023)
25 Jan 2025
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There wasn’t - there wasn’t anything else for him to do, to stop what was clearly about to happen. He had three options, and none of them were great: stand there, dick in his hands, and watch the horror unfold–like last time, something hissed in his ear, doesn't he deserve it? Don't you, Randolph Bradley?; intervene with his body and get brained against the brick wall, or the putrid nearby dumpster; or grab the rusty, discarded pipe out of said dumpster and swing.
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the fruit of all my grief by devils_trap for Crazyamoeba, Different_approach
Fandoms: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
09 Oct 2019
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“Really, Jacob? Really.” He makes no attempt at hiding how incredulous and pissed off he is. It'd be a shitty thing to do to a civilian, but to a cop? What Jacob just did was God damn stupid, and with the way Pratt's life's been going, he's sorely tempted to arrest Jacob for reckless driving.
“Afternoon, Officer,” Jacob says with a slow, shit-eating grin. His teeth are bright and white, huge in his mouth behind plush pink lips. He's handsome in a fucked up way, with strong masculine features and full, bright red hair. His face scarred and weathered to high heaven, from tragedy during his military service, Pratt assumes.
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There’s nothing like it: the knowledge of a job well done, a plan carefully crafted, Arthur fucking Morgan's stamp of approval. Even though it hasn’t exactly happened yet, it’s going to go flawlessly, John can feel it. John made sure of it.
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He doesn't get to write the reply text message, too distracted by the tan boot cocked to the side, right into Staci's cubicle. Staci's not gay, a handful of lackluster inebriated encounters have told him as much, but he's gotten drunk enough times and delved down enough gay porn rabbitholes to know what that extended foot offers. Understall, anonymous.
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bring your love (i can bring my shame) by devils_trap
Fandoms: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games)
21 Sep 2018
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Jacob tells himself he’s given in because there’s less risk involved in a situation when you’re arguably the best player at the table. Some of the other guys are pretty decent, but they get sloppy with drink. Don’t have the focus and head for numbers Jacob does, his only distraction Miller.
It’s certainly not because he wants Miller - wants his friendship, wants to be near him, wants him.
That’s - that’s fucking ridiculous.
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She quickly realized his frequent visits had nothing to do with them at all. He'd go wherever Pratt went, Fall's End or Jacob's Gate or the bottom of fucking Wishbone Lake, following him around like a lovesick puppy. A Great Dane tripping over his own paws for oblivious, troubled Staci Pratt. All puppy dog eyes and his tail tucked between his legs, eager to ease the furrow in Pratt's brow. Lick the blood off his fingers and curl up to sleep nestled at his side.
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oh darkness (i wanna sing your song forever) by devils_trap for Vrunka
Fandoms: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games)
27 May 2018
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Staci might have lost his last hand, but this new one is proving to be as interesting as it is fucked up. There's no way out of this. Survival, pure and simple, is in his sights, and he now knows how to secure it.
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He can still feel the cool metal of the Major's expensive ink pen against the writer's bump on his right middle finger, biting into his calloused digit as he effectively benched himself with a flick of his wrist and the near illegible scrawl of his name, SGT. JACOB ELIJAH SEED. Altering his status from ACTIVE DUTY to INACTIVE DUTY RESERVE.
He hates it, doesn't want to remove himself from Active Duty. But if it's this or discharge, Jacob will bite his tongue around the shame until he drowns in his own blood.
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we never are what we intend, or invent by devils_trap
Fandoms: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games)
15 Apr 2018
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The plan is this: (Puke in the bathroom before takeoff.) Fly the U.S. Marshal, Sheriff Whitehorse, himself and the two other Deputies, Hudson and Lewis, into the main compound for the cult known as Project at Eden's Gate. (Not piss himself when landing.) Acquire target: Joseph Seed, the cult's leader, also known as the Father. Extract the subject. Do not allow the situation to escalate beyond control. Return to the Sheriff's Department for booking. (Puke in the bathroom again.)
It goes tits up right after Staci Pratt manages not to piss himself.
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the stars retreat behind their veil by devils_trap
Fandoms: Far Cry 5, Far Cry (Video Games)
12 Apr 2018
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“Joseph is on the radio,” Jacob muses, still bored. Like this is just normal locker room talk. Like the world outside hasn't ended, like he's not holding Wyatt there prisoner with the intention of playing with his food before killing it. From against the wall, he cleans beneath his nails with a pocket knife. “He wants to talk to you.”
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Emergency. Emergency? Emergency. That’s vague, that’s really vague. Is it like…a fire emergency? Fuck, dropped the keys. Or like an Us emergency? Fuck, fuck, fuck. I guess in Derek’s case fire could be an Us—fuck, fuck, fuck.
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At night, though, under cover of darkness with just the moon, flashlights and the city lights to see by, they can work. They run across rooftops as quickly and quietly as they can, cans of paint in their bags jingling at their sides, their shoes slap slap slapping against the pavement as they run.
Series
- Part 1 of The Writing on the Walls
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There is a copy of The Rules in every room of Shardpoint School for Boys, lest They be forgotten. It is wise to always keep Them in mind. They are carved into stone by the students themselves. Nothing good will come of forgetting, ignoring, or breaking Them.
Series
- Part 1 of do not go near the Forest
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Isaac Lahey is fourteen and hasn't touched another living soul in a way that counted since the last time he saw Camden.
(He doesn't count the forced hugs at Camden's funeral, or his father hitting him.)
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He wanted to matter. To have someone see him, and when they saw him still stick around, kiss him, enjoy his company.
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“I could smell the depravity on you,” Peter croaked, his forehead pressed snug to Stiles’. “Beneath the scent of jizz and sweat, there it was. Ripe. You’re ripe, Stiles.” He bit at Stiles’ lower lip, teeth snapping one, two times, the second drawing blood that dribbled lazily down Stiles’ chin. “Do the others know? About this great darkness you try to hide? You can’t hide shit like this beneath stupid t-shirts and jokes, Stiles, I see you. I see you.”
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"I'm tired of being the jealous fucking girlfriend, okay? I just want my friend back. I...I don't care that he gets you some of the time. I don't care that I have to share some of our time with him! Make us a time schedule and tell me my hours. I can do joint custody. Fuck it, joint custody is my middle name! Call me Stiles Joint Custody Stilinski!"
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After the taxing hallucination at Lydia's party, Stiles cracks. Sheriff is there to pick up the pieces, despite not knowing the one to shatter his son was none other than himself.
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Scott was older this time, but he cried all the same, cried with his boyfriend’s head in his lap, with his boyfriend’s blood all around him, on him, just as choking as it was the first time in his mother’s kitchen, before werewolves and kanimas and Alpha packs. When the worst things they had to face were slick countertops and bullies, asthma attacks and parents leaving or dying.