Black Horse (John Seed x Reader)

chapter two

Tapping his fingertips rapidly on his workbench, John gazed at you sitting limp in a chair. Your feet were tied to each of the legs, and your hands were pinned behind your back in handcuffs.

He began to grow impatient, pushing off of the workbench and pacing around the room. The Bliss should have worn off by now. It's not like he could give his monologue to an unconscious audience...

He peered at you one more time, and he watched as your head wobbled. Ah, the Baptist sprouted a smirk. A groan vibrated through your throat. John approached you slowly, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets.

With a gentle touch, he lifts each of your eyelids to find them hanging into the back of your head. He growled. You were half asleep. He scanned your face slowly. Curious, he eyed the mask that covered the bottom half of your face.

John tore down the fabric around your mouth, his blue eyes stopping when he sees your lips. Soft and supple, yet he couldn't wait to see them cracked and dripping with blood. He placed a thumb on your bottom lip, a small smile creeping across his face.

His fingertips traveled upwards, gripping the faded green beanie that sat snugly above your eyebrows. John peeled it off of your head, tossing it to the floor carelessly. Your (h/c) locks tumbled down to your shoulders in freedom, your baby hairs sticking to your scalp in caked sweat.

The man took two steps back, utterly amazed. Jesus, he thought while sharply exhaling. You were beautiful.

Still recovering from the Bliss, your eyelids fluttered as you tried to decipher what was a hallucination and what wasn't. Your head felt like it weighed two tons, and it swung from side to side as you began to regain consciousness.

When your gaze focused on a man standing before you dressed in a well-pressed suit with slicked back brown hair, confusion entered your mind. Then, you recognized the deep blue in his eyes staring back at you. Panic attacked your heart as you suddenly yanked your hands upwards, terrified when a sharp pain cut through your wrists. Handcuffs?

The look in his gaze made you even more nervous. It was something you didn't recognize. Something you hadn't seen before. Whatever it was, it was dark.

"Sleep well?" He smirked, crossing his arms in a smug sort of way. Someone's pleased with themselves, you scowled. You attempted to narrow your glazed eyes at him menacingly. He chuckled at you, taking a step forward, "You know something, Deputy?"

He didn't wait for you to respond, and frankly he didn't really care if you did or not. He was going to talk no matter what. And you were going to listen. "You have caused quite a stir in my valley," the Baptist grabs a screwdriver from his workbench and taps it into the palm of his hand repeatedly.

"If I wasn't a true man of God, I would have you skinned alive and hanged in Fall's End for all of your little friends to see," he smiled sweetly at you, shrugging, "But, I must help you, save you in order for you to reach atonement."

"Sin radiates off of you like Hell fire," he flashes his palms in the air, making circular motions around your whole frame. Then, his gaze fixated on you in a crazed way. He took a step towards you, his white teeth shining between his parted lips in a grin.

"What if I told you I could remove it? What if I told you that I could set you free?" John's breathy voice sent shivers up your spine, and it didn't help that he was inches away from you. You swallowed hard and attempted to scoot your chair away from him with the tip of your toes.

"I know what it's like," the man placed his hands on the arms of your chair, his nose now centimeters away from yours, "I've been there before. I know that drowning feeling intimately." He was so close now that you could practically see how deep the blue traveled through his eyes. "You feel weighed down. You feel lost... like a poor little stray," he frowned.

His hand traveled to your face and cupped your cheek softly. His touch burned your skin like acid, and you tore away from his palm in disgust. John retracted his hand in surprise, chuckling bitterly before grabbing your chin and forcefully shifting your face to him.

"In order to truly be free, we must confess our sins," he spoke rapidly, his tone stern and determined, "Proclaim our faults and fix them. Tear them out. Never let them back in."

"I can suck that poison out of you," John abruptly slides his hand down to hold the side of your neck. You tense, sucking in breath through clenched teeth. You think he's going to choke you again, especially when his eyes drift down to admire the bruises he had inflicted on you only hours before.

"You just have to say yes."

The man analyzed your expression for a moment. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and the corners of your lips were pointed slightly downward in a frown. John backed away from you, tilting his head as he listened for your answer.

After you remained silent for a while, the Inquisitor placed his hands on his knees and squinted at you, "Come on, Deputy. I know you're not a mute." He smiled, thinking back to when you wheezed out his name a couple of hours ago.

You gave him a blank stare, sticking your chin into the air in stubbornness. John let his head hang, sighing deeply.

"At least there's other ways to make you talk," he shrugged with an abrasive tone. John strolled over to his workbench and gazed at the array of tools he had laid across the wooden surface.

You gulped, your nails digging into your sweaty palms as you clenched your hands into fists. John smiles brightly when he decides to take a small kitchen knife from his collection.

He approaches you slowly, enjoying your attempt to hide the pure fear that covered your face. It gave him such a rush to see the effect he had on people, but it made it even more enjoyable when he noticed you were trying to hide it.

You yelped when he suddenly sawed through the top half of your camouflaged shirt with the tip of the knife. He chuckled at your tiny scream, gripping the two sides of the fabric and ripping it even further down your body.

Your cheeks turned bright red as you saw his eyes drift down your chest. Thank God he didn't cut through your bra. Your shirt was ripped all the way down to your belly button, and you tried to slow your breathing so it didn't look like you were actually having a panic attack. Could he see your chest pounding from your rapid heartbeat?

John was almost shocked to find a tiny flower tattooed along your collarbone. At first glance, he would've missed it. But, he had developed a skill for spotting tattoos over the years.

He resisted the urge to trace the ink on your skin. The dainty blue petals seemed so delicate that they would crumble and fall to the floor if he were to touch them. They seemed sacred.

His smirk faded from his lips as he stared, suddenly clearing his throat and pushing away from you to stand back up. He paced the room for a couple seconds, running a shaky hand through his slicked back hair.

You gazed at him in confusion. Wasn't he just about to stab you in the chest with a knife? Unless... He just wanted to tear your shirt open? No, that didn't seem right.

John began to laugh, throaty and low. He glanced at you, a sweet smile across his face. "What's your name?" He raised an eyebrow, placing a flat palm against his workbench and leaning all of his weight to one side. The question surprised you.

Why does he care?

"I mean, your name can't be Deputy... right?" He twirled the kitchen knife between his fingers, and you replied with a blank stare for the thousandth time that day.

With the knife still in his hand, John dipped his head down to peer at your face. With a more softer tone, the man spoke, "What's your name?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, refusing to even acknowledge him. But, you suddenly thought back to the first time you saw John and a smirk sprouted on your lips. He perked up at this change of expression, leaning in to hear you speak.

With a defiance burning in your eyes, you smiled, "Hell."