#john seed/f!deputy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

paradlselost · 1 year ago

Text

BOLD AND BRAVE

john seed x fem!deputy

smut warning. no explicit consent given. choking. hair pulling. biting. fingering. some oral (f receiving). p in v.

4.8k words.

Soft sounds echoed off the wooden walls of the secluded cabin, walls that had heard far too much, that would sooner be chopped to pieces and shoved through a chipper than be allowed to spill the secrets it held. John Seed was a holy man, and cleanliness was close to godliness, so he made sure never to leave things unkempt. Nothing ever had a trace of him, even his glasses back at the ranch were cleaned of fingerprints every night. Call it germophobia, call it paranoia, whatever plagued his thoughts when he was alone in the comfort of his pressed silk sheets didn’t seem to leave him now either.

Though more pressing matters seemed to be on at the forefront as he pressed her head down against the pillow, the small grunts that usually escaped his lips at this point didn’t bother trying, he was too busy in his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, he knew that fornication wasn’t allowed, and as a Herald, he had to make an example for others, though that had never stopped him before. Now only contempt nipped at the back of his neck where unrequited love bites had been left. Sure, he could be upset at how Joseph wouldn’t be happy if he found out his little brother went against the cult rules, but that didn’t seem to be it either.

He stopped himself suddenly, not even bothering to let himself finish. It was a shocking act for even him. John Seed, silver tongue of the cult who always took what he wanted not even caring for his satisfaction? Well, it certainly seemed to shock the woman under him, who turned to look at him through her eyelashes.

“Why’d you stop?” Her voice called up to him, a whine in her tone that made his stomach churn. He looked at her with disgust in his sharp blue eyes, a look she had not been accustomed to from him. “What’s your problem?”

She sat up now, pulling a loose sheet over her exposed body as she tilted her head at him. She was a beauty, really, she was, but that didn’t seem to be enough for him tonight. Sure, John felt a little bad for how he constantly treated her, but her own beauty didn’t do it for him anymore. He needed something he felt he couldn’t outrightly take, he would seem far too pathetic if he chased after what he really wanted, so he settled for a shotty substitute.

“Did you cut your hair?”

She gave him a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow. Maybe it was a compliment? He noticed something other than the quickest way to rip her shirt off this time. “I did, do you like it?”

“How many times have I told you not to change the way you look, Holly?”

His words were sharp as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his jeans with a glare in her direction, it seemed neither of them would be able to finish tonight. She scrunched her nose up at his words. It wasn’t rare for him to be an asshole to her, in fact, it was becoming a much more common occurrence with the recent resistance pushback against the cult, but she still didn’t appreciate his tone.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so adamant about it lately. I wanted to try something new, what do you care?”

She scoffed as she stood up, letting the sheet fall off her body as she grabbed her shirt and underwear, pulling them on. John reached out and roughly grabbed her wrist, making her turn to look at him. He had never put a hand on her without them both being in the middle of John getting his rocks off in her bed or against her wall or vanity, and his sudden touch startled her.

Good, that’s what he wanted to see. The Pepper girl seemed to forget her place constantly, John was a Herald, she was just someone attractive he could see from time to time to release pent-up frustrations.

“You don't look like her anymore. Your hair frames your face differently now.”

Holly scoffed at him, pulling her wrist away from his reach. She never really cared about being more than a fling to him, she liked the distraction it gave her from the newfound loneliness she felt in this cottage and maybe sometimes she did wish he wouldn’t see someone else when he slept with her, that he wouldn’t moan someone else’s name when he fucked her, but she ultimately knew it would go nowhere with him. John Seed was a man obsessed with someone she couldn’t be.

“Who, the Deputy? Well, news flash, I’m not her.”

“I know you’re not, but it's not a crime for me to pretend, and you changing up your hair doesn’t fucking help the vision.”

“The vision.” She scoffed, crossing her arms at him. Her tone was one of mocking, like he was stupid for even dreaming she could fill the role of the one person he couldn’t have. No, because if it wasn’t her hair today then it would be her legs tomorrow, that they weren’t as toned as the Deputy’s, or that her eyes weren’t the right shade. It was constantly ‘Deputy this, Deputy that.’ But Holly Pepper wasn’t enough. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m gone.”

She didn’t have to convince him to rebutton his silk blue shirt or throw on his belt with the large ‘EG’ buckle on it. She didn’t need to persuade him to tie his boots and walk out her front door, into the cool Montana night, he simply left. Trekking down the dirt trail and getting into his car, he slammed the door shut and took off through the wooded back paths. He absolutely despised driving on anything other than the clearly marked main roads, especially when it was dark. He made special exceptions for the nights he went to visit Holly, but being that he didn’t finish, his anger was only elevated.

A truck passed, headlights shining into his windshield and honking as he swerved out of the way to avoid being hit, grumbling curses under his breath that he certainly would have to atone for later, but he would happily do it when he was back in the comfort of his warm, lavish ranch. The truck was the only other car on the road, and through his headlights, he could tell he was going the wrong way. Another curse, this time to himself, no way was he allowing himself to get lost in the middle of fucking nowhere redneck woods. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he pulled over to the nearest building he could find, a clinic. Silently, he hoped someone in there didn’t particularly hate him and would give him directions.

He pulled over with a huff, looking around his car for a map, and without seeing one, opened the door and got out, slamming it behind him. The evening air was cool, and unlike when he had left the Pepper residence, he was able to now take a breath and calm himself down. Though he doubted too many people were around at this time of night, he still wasn’t a fan of making a spectacle of himself when just trying to get directions. Gravel crunched underneath his boots as he made his way to the door, hand stopping just short of the handle as he heard a voice.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to get service right now.”

He didn’t need to turn to know who was speaking to him, he could feel the air still around him at the sound of her voice, the one person he hadn’t expected to see, not after he had falsely assumed he put the fear of god into her, not after he carved the sin out of her chest and forced her to display it for everyone who came across her. Her own personal scarlet letter, though this one being born of the crimson her blood was.

“Hello, Wrath. What are you doing here at this hour?”

He kept his tone friendly and light as he stepped over to the wall beside her, tilting his head down at her. She leaned against the brick, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips as she watched him. He put on a facade, his silver tongue making a comeback as he spoke to her, though he knew well that she wouldn’t fall for his words. The best he could hope for was for her to relax slightly, to let him speak without drawing a weapon, and, at the lack of Peggies surrounding their ever-so-holy leader, she seemed to do just that.

“Just saw Nick and Kim off. Despite you and your peggies constant terror, it seems some good finally came to the Rye household.”

“Ah, so Kim delivered fine then?”

“Mmhm.”

“I should send a present, something for the little tyke.”

“Yeah right.” He earned a little laugh from her, even if it was sarcastic, he couldn’t help the small smirk that etched onto his features at her voice. Yes, John Seed was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have. “Kim told me you tried to convince everyone the baby was actually yours and not Nick’s.”

“I was just having some fun, they shouldn’t have taken it so seriously. Besides, that was months ago.” He shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside her, his goal of going to ask for directions now gone as he was in her presence. Despite his nature, she consumed his every waking moment. Every thought of his belonged to her, every word he spoke had her name etched onto it. He was pathetic.

“I’m sure it just added to the list of things you’ve done to fuck with them.” The Deputy rolled her eyes, amber ash falling from the head of the cigarette and onto the ground below them. He liked watching her supple lips part to welcome the taste of nicotine into her mouth.

“I’m a Herald, Deputy, everything I do is for the good of others.”

“Mm, remember the time you told me you’ve never lied to me?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“There's a lie right there.”

He smirked slightly, watching her with his deep blue eyes, and shook his head. He couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered in his chest at this moment. There was no chase, no cat and mouse game, just the two of them standing underneath the moonlight, with no one but god as their witness. “Well, what if I believe it's true?”

“Then you’re a liar and you’re delusional.” She hummed, looking back at him. There was a silence for a moment as she offered him her cigarette, a certain intimacy in his lips touching the filter where hers had before. He felt like a schoolboy again, though this time without the threat of his parents looming over him.

The crickets chirped around them as they took turns with the cigarette, it seemed to be a peaceful night. After a moment or two, she let him have the last of what was left in the bud and stepped forward towards her truck. Curiously, he stamped the cigarette out and followed after her.

“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding almost pathetic, like a puppy kicked away from the door his owner was walking out of. He craved this normalcy with her more than he thought he would, though part of him yearned to get back to the cat-and-mouse games.

“The Spread Eagle, probably. Gonna chase down the nicotine high with some of Mary May’s whiskey.” She shrugged as she opened the door to her truck, moving her AR-C aside and disturbing the indents of where Boomer always slept during long rides through the county.

He watched her body as she bent over to move her gun from the seat, how her hips swayed slightly. He bit his bottom lip slightly, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. Part of him yearned for his life before he reunited with Joseph. Maybe he wasn’t truly happy then, and maybe the Deputy incited withdrawals from him that he thought he had gotten over years ago, but alcohol sounded great right now.

“You seem so quick to leave my company. You’re always like this, I open my arms to you, let you into my bunker, and offer you atonement, but you’re always itching to leave. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He tilted his head as she stood up, turning to face the Herald once more.

He didn’t bother hiding the fact he had been staring at her ass for the better half of a minute, nor did her care about subduing his tone that was increasingly growing more and more lustful as he stepped closer to her. He wanted to feel her under his touch, to smell the gunpowder and blood that lingered on her. This time, it would really be the Deputy, he wouldn’t have to pretend.

“Let me into your bunker? Last time I checked you had your Peggies shoot me with bliss bullets and strap me to a chair there. You don’t exactly have a warm and welcoming nature, Seed.” She replied, crossing her arms slightly. He knew she was quickly losing her patience with him when she referred to him only by his last name.

“I just want you to reach atonement, Deputy. I want you to be better, for yourself, for the father.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he stepped closer to her, so close he could lean into her ear to speak. She grimaced slightly at the mention of the Father - Joseph.

“You don’t need to call him that, he’s your brother. And you shouldn’t speak to me about atonement, who gave you those marks on the back of your neck?”

He blinked a few times at her words, reaching his hand back to feel the indents that had been left. He hissed softly, of course, Holly had left marks without his say-so. She seemed to enjoy doing what he told her not to. Not to change her appearance so he could imagine it was the woman in front of him he was fucking, not to leave marks that he would have to explain to his followers - or worse, his brothers. But did she listen? No.

“Not you.”

Now it was the Deputy’s turn to be confused, her eyes fluttering up to meet his dark blue ones. She cocked her head to the side slightly, just enough to really examine him. He seemed confident in his words, but of course it wasn’t her, what was he trying to get out of this? “Yeah, obviously? Are you feeling okay, Seed?”

Again with the last name, it was starting to get on his nerves. He wanted nothing more than to grab her at this moment, to press her against the peeling upholstery of the old truck she drove around, to make her scream his name for everyone to hear - for her to call him not by a shared surname, but by his name. And suddenly he understood Adam and Eve, with a snake tempting him so sweetly, he’d be a fool not to take a bite of the apple, wouldn’t he?

“Why can’t you just say Yes, Deputy? Why do you have to make this so difficult? Why do you have to make me stoop into the sin you so freely roll around in?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, taking a step closer to her. His leg slid between hers as she pressed herself back against the side of the seat.

But she didn’t tell him no this time, she didn’t shove him off or slap him. He heard the breath that caught in her throat, he saw the way her eyes fluttered between his and the skin of his chest exposed by the undone buttons of his silk shirt. Sloth, written over his chest, crossed out. How would the scarred skin feel under her touch? How would the ink of the countless tattoos on his body be complimented by the scratches she would leave on him?

“You don’t need the ego boost, the day I say yes to a monster like you is the day my dignity dies.” Oh the Deputy, always a fighter. He would help her with that, gladly, a burial inside the truck for only John and God himself to witness. A small smirk played on his face as his hands trailed over her hips, a ghost of a touch but enough to ignite a fire in her eyes.

He wouldn’t need her to say yes, she would be screaming it by the time he was done. He would drag orgasm and orgasm out of her till her atonement was spelled in the arousal that would coat the truck's upholstery. He would make a saint out of her yet, make the only words that fall from her lips holy and pure till they were alone. She would never have to worry about the bullets that grazed her skin or the wounds that marked her flesh, he would wash away her sins.

So many dirty thoughts from the Herald, but he couldn’t control himself now. His hands belonged to the devil as they trailed up from her hips, one caressing her neck - which he would make sure to have covered with as many marks as he could by the time he was done with her - and the other slipping beneath her shirt. He tilted his head down at her, smug yet coy as his fingertips brushed the wire band of her bra, yet another barrier between the two.

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. They studied elsewhere, fixed on the door to the clinic and the road. What would others say if they saw the two together? Sharky and Adelaide had to have been just joking when they said she should get with the youngest Seed brother - that it would save the resistance’s ass. She bit her inner cheek, doubting that that would be the truth. John Seed was a sadistic monster who reveled in other's pain and suffering, but something about his touch made her want to melt.

“There’s nothing but me to look at, Deputy. For right now, you’re mine.”

If John was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have, the Deputy was cut from the same cloth. She couldn’t have him, not really, even if she accepted his atonement, even if he cut the sin from her body - John Seed would always be obsessed with an idea of her, she was his greatest conquest because she never said yes to him, and if she stopped fighting he would lose interest.

But tonight, under nothing but the moonlight and the roof of her truck? Tonight, she could have him.

So she didn’t protest when he stepped into her more, when he pushed her back against the worn seat and kissed her neck with the fervor of a man starved. She said nothing because her breathing spoke for her, the way it picked up and became laced with soft whimpers as he grazed his teeth over an old scar. Yes, he relished in her pain, he couldn’t help but smile at her burning in the cleansing fire of his love.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it back to expose her neck. He sat up over top of her, a small smirk playing on his face as he looked down at her. She looked so pathetic under him, her neck colored in flushed pink and dark red, a product of him. He trailed a hand down over the forming hickeys, pressing his fingertips against the sides of her neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough for her to part her pretty lips to breathe through her mouth.

The Herald reveled in the power he had over her, her life balancing in the palm of his hand. It would be far too easy to kill her now, to make up for the anger he felt every time a silo was blown up or an outpost was overtaken. How easy everything would be if she gave her life force over to him, cutting the head off the snake that was the resistance.

But it was far more fun to keep her alive, to toy with her like a cat would a mouse, to shed her of her shirt and unclasp her bra and run his tongue against her sensitive, budding nipple. To relish in the sounds of her soft whines that overtook her breathing, to feel her fingers tangle in his slicked-back raven hair.

“Fuck.”

An understatement, her words breathy and sweet, as if she was reciting a prayer meant only for his ears. His blue eyes fluttered to look up at her, enjoying the way she looked down at him, lust building on her features. She would atone for him, but not with her words.

He trailed down her body, lips catching on every old scar and bullet wound, every imperfection left on her beautiful body. She would be cleansed of all of these when he was done with her, she would be born anew with him right by her side. His fingers caught on the waistband of her jeans, dirtied with blood and grass stains on the knees, not proper attire for her baptism, so he shed those from her as well.

Left in only her underwear, shivering against the cold that seeped into the truck, she looked down at him with a frown, grazing over the silk of his blue shirt. He was overdressed, though he made no moves to match her. With his head in line with her pelvis, he grasped the fingers that worked on his buttons, giving her a pointed look which she matched with a soft whine.

“Deputy.”

“John - c'mon, it's not fair…”

“I’ll decide what's fair and what’s not. When I want it to come off, it will. For now, hands off.”

A sigh left her lips but she complied with him, letting go of the buttons he wore and instead focusing on him as he moved lower, as his fingers trailed over the growing wetness seeping through her underwear. She recoiled slightly, feeling the cold of his fingers through the warm fabric, and was met only by a soft tsk from John.

He watched her, studied every reaction as he slipped off the last remaining article of clothing that blocked him from getting a full view of her. She was something out of an oil painting, crafted by God specifically for him. How had he gotten so lucky that she was his rival? How had they both gotten to this point, surely from the tensions built every time he would kidnap her, when he would clean her chest with a sponge to prepare for the marking he hadn’t gotten around to doing quite yet.

Grazing over her folds, catching her clit in his grasp, he relished in the sounds that the truck filled with. Soft gasps giving way to needy moans as he gathered her slick and coated his fingers in it. His eyes hungry as he peered up at her through his eyelashes, tongue swiping over her once and then twice before spitting. Her fingers tangled in his hair harshly as he pushed a finger inside before it was quickly joined by a second, humming when greeted by how tight her walls were.

“Funny, I expected you to have more experience.” He grinned, his perfect snake in the garden, reaping what she had sown. John had earned every hitch of her breath, every noise that fell from her lips belonged to him. Patience is a virtue, after all.

“Kinda ha-h… hard to get some privacy when you’re the resista- fuck!”

He couldn’t help but smirk as she was interrupted by the curling of his fingers, brushing against a certain bundle of nerves as he stretched her out in preparation for his cock. He hummed in response, teasing her. How sweet it was to have the big bad Deputy be putty in his hands. John absolutely adored the fact that he was her only in a long time, it stroked his ego lovingly.

When he was satisfied with the moans that fell from her lips and how she could hardly focus on anything other than the sensations he was providing her, he pulled out. Chuckling at a needy moan she gave him at the feeling of emptiness, he licked the coating of her slick from his fingers, tsking and looking down at her.

“Patience, Deputy. Be a good girl.” Once his fingers were properly cleaned and the taste of her arousal was set on his tongue nicely, he unbuckled his pants and allowed them to pool at his ankles, his lips fluttering over her exposed neck while he worked on pulling his shirt off.

Perfect tattoos decorated his body like the ceiling of a temple, each one telling a different story. John Seed was a man who had his life mapped out on each limb, allowing for her to trace all of him, to know all of him. He pulled away from her neck, bullying his two fingers past her lips and having her suck on them, tasting herself.

He focused on the way she sucked, how soft moans escaped her, and how her eyes fluttered closed, content to have this soft moment. God, he wanted to ruin it for her. He did not pull away yet, not as he ran the head of his hardened cock over her folds, precum mingling with her own fluids. When he did pull his fingers away from her, he made sure she watched as he lubed himself up with her saliva.

He could’ve come at the sharp gasp elicited from her as he pushed inside, inch by inch till he bottomed out and she was left in a state of bliss. He groaned softly at how perfect she was, how her walls were practically made for him, dragging every noise from his lips. The Deputy never thought she’d see the day when John Seed was moaning for anyone - especially not her. She considered herself lucky that the Herald was coming undone simply by the feeling of her.

Though, her smugness faded as he began to move. Shallow thrusts at first that were quickly replaced by deep, rhythmic movements. His mouth latched onto her neck once more, his teeth dragging over her soft skin in an effort to leave his bite markings against her pretty flesh. Her nails drug against his back, sharp, stinging scrapes that complimented the dark ink of his tattoos well. He never let others mark him as she had, but she was special - he would be proud to show off what she left on him.

Her legs wrapped against his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper inside her. She was practically screaming in his ear, the truck shaking with his movements. Thrust after thrust, he abused her G-spot well, toes curling and legs trembling in his wake. She pistoned her hips up to meet his, arching her back and letting him latch onto her breasts now.

“You gonna cum f’me?” He groaned out, blue eyes focused on how she shook, how her walls clenched around him at his words. She was close, teetering on the edge, and he wasn’t far behind her. Her nods weren’t good enough, neither were the little noises she attempted to choke out between her moans. No, he wanted to hear her speak. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Fuck - yes please-” Manners and all, he grinned at her response. He had gotten her to say it, just as he knew he would. That allusive ‘yes’ he had been waiting far too long to hear. He really couldn’t help himself now as a tattooed hand moved from her hips to rub her swollen clit.

Thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier, if this was heaven the Deputy was more than happy to atone for it. Her legs spasmed slightly, walls clenching around him as white toyed at her eyes, orgasm crashing down against him. It didn’t take much longer for him to follow suit, his own cum mixing with hers, white beading at the base of his cock as he pressed himself inside her, having her take him all.

She whined softly, panting and looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. His breath was heavy, fingers running through her hair as they both caught their breath, inevitable guilt creeping up in the Deputy’s chest. John Seed was the enemy, he was a monster, and she had just let him fuck her into the best orgasm of her life. Stupid, stupid.

But John, he seemed far too proud of himself. He didn’t need her to say anything anymore, he didn’t need the taped confession for his older brother. No, now he had this, her atonement that coated his softening cock. He would always have this over her, how she screamed yes for him, and she seemed to realize that.

“You know - that ‘yes’ doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Should I make you say it again?”

#john seed x female deputy #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x reader #far cry 5

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evilvvithin · 2 years ago

Text

silent despair

pairing : john seed x reader (i wrote it as f!deputy!reader but it turned out to be gn too) warnings : blood and injury | implied sex but not detailed | love hate | possessiveness word count: 2,497 summary: What would happen if John was the one to survive the collapse? ➤ AO3 link | masterlist

In the first moments of coming back to your senses, the mix of strong cologne and smoke hit your nose. The air seemed heavy, almost hard to breathe and you felt like suffocating. Taking a deep breath, a sharp pain shot through your ribs and made you yelp out in surprise. "Finally," a familiar voice filled the silence and ringed inside your aching head. Stars danced at the edges of your vision as you tried to sit up. As if a restless swarm of bees was inside your skull, causing it to vibrate uncomfortably. Arms and legs numb you had to look down at your limbs to make sure they were really moving when you told them to. They weren't. Your hands handcuffed to the metal leg of the bunk bed, you tried to wrestle against them with no luck. "Still eager to fight despite your situation, I see. Some things about you never change, deputy."

You felt venom in his voice, anger, hidden behind his kind and peaceful mask he called a face. He smiled widely as he walked towards you, squatting down to your level.

"Where-"

"Shhh sh sh."

His eyes piercing through you, fingers trailing the handcuffs, the stupid smile on his face. The time stopped and your eyes gazed down to his shirt which used to be blue. Just like his eyes. Now it was almost completely covered in dried blood. Pushing away the thoughts of kicking your knee into his stomach for tying you up, you wondered what had happened, looking around the room you were in for any clues.

He noticed how you calmed down, how your eyes jumped across his chest and the walls behind him. Looking for his bunker key at his now bruised chest. Pulling out another key from his pocket, he freed your hands but grabbed your wrists immediately, squeezing them painfully. You hissed in reaction, but got the message - don't do anything stupid. You didn’t even plan to. You just wanted to know what happened as your own memory was failing you due to its fogginess. Checking your ribs for any wounds or source of the pain you felt after waking up, a loud explosion deafened you and the whole room started to vibrate, dust falling down from the ceiling. There was your answer to what happened. The pictures of mushroom cloud, fire and death blinked through your head. All the screaming, pain… your friends…

"The collapse," John looked up, the same smile on his face still. "Joseph was right, you know? He knew the whole time… my brother…"

The mask of the baptist started to fade away - he didn't have to pretend anymore. The smile slowly disappeared as his whole expression hardened, jaws clenched. His eyes glowing with rage, but there was something else.

Sadness. Softness.

Cursing through gritted teeth, he grabbed you by the edge of your shirt and forced you up against the wall, hand squeezing your throat right after.

"You killed them. If only you listened to them! We could’ve been - “

The pressure built up in your head from the lack of air and vision started to blur, yet you didn't try to fight his hand.

"Doesn’t matter. Tell me one reason I shouldn't do the same to you!"

His voice was calm but still sounded like a yell to you. You started to half laugh half cough, making his eyebrows furrow even more in fury. He was killing you with his gaze, not his hands. In his mind his hands squeezed your throat hard. Knuckles on his hand white, he’d release the grasp so you could catch a single breath just to cut your wind pipe again.

Oh, he would do so many things to you.

"Why didn't you? Before?" You coughed. "You had so many chances."

He sighed and let go of you by throwing you further into the wall, though not so aggressively as before to kick air out of your lungs. You knew he had the reply, knew why he didn't kill you when he had the chance. But he wouldn't admit it.

Would you? Would you admit why you didn’t kill him when you had so many chances?

John knew well you chose to hunt his siblings down rather than him. Playing cat and mouse, but both of you were the cat. Lots of unfulfilled threats that led only to one thing - the collapse. You being stuck with him in a bunker underground.

The longer you tried to keep standing against the wall, the more your muscles burned. The desire to lay down, close your eyes again and forget about everything again was overwhelming but you were determined to not show any kind of weakness. Your coughing and laughing filled the room. Have you lost your mind? Are you really gonna be down here with John? It wasn’t like you could change it.

You didn’t want to.

The shirt started to stick to your skin where you felt the sharp pain before. Your fingers felt the wetness when touching it and you didn't have to look down to know what it was.

"Come."

Following John to the table across the room, you were sure your legs would fail you any step you took. He was watching you - was it a concerned look you saw on his face? Your blurry vision playing tricks on you?

He was in fact concerned, watching every step of yours ready to grab your arm for support whenever you were about to fall. He didn't want you to know, he didn't want you to see his soft side. Not yet. He liked to believe he had none except for his brothers - he was lying to himself the whole life. He always had a soft side, buried deep inside him. Abandoned by his choice. Softness had no place in the life he lived before Eden’s Gate. No place in Eden’s Gate. It was a weakness and he locked everything making him weak deep inside.

Till you showed up and made him weak. Vulnerable. He hated you for it, but at the same time admired you. You were untamed, wild fire that could make him both weak and strong and he realized rather quickly that capturing you like the others would not help him get stronger, no. You required a different approach. Approach that he thought he would never be able to do - to have feelings for someone, to feel vulnerable.

The mutual feelings of you two, the connection of your souls and leadership - that’s what he visioned in his dreams. How perfect you two would be for Eden’s gate. At first, it seemed like a great plan, but the further John tried to make you join him, the more he started to care about you. Did he care about you more than about the project? No, he would never… He doubted himself in that question. Nevertheless he’d make everything work in the end. And he did, without even trying to.

Grabbing bandages out of the emergency box, he waited for you to raise your shirt enough to expose the cut. Starting at your ribcage going down your belly, it wasn't deep but it was bleeding a lot.

"Just do it quick."

Swallowing your pride, you let him circle you, touch you, wrapping the bandage all around your torso. Feeling his warm touch on your bare skin, you never realized how soft his hands could be. You believed all they could inflict was pain and torture.

"Want it harder?"

The stupid smile on his face.

"Fuck you, John."

~~~

"You'll get us both killed!" John hissed and caught your hand that tried to steal the bunker key from his neck. He started to wear it with him at all times since you found the spot where he hid it. And he was way more alert during sleeping than you thought.

Saving your life and you still tried to get away from him, still fought him. Still… after all the days you two spent in close proximity. Or was it weeks? He liked it at times though. It spiced things a bit here under the ground, but he'd still rather receive obedience from you. Just like his followers in Hope County… but you weren't one of them. The knuckles whitened on his hand and you squinted as his grip became painful. The harder he held your wrist, the more you squeezed the key in your hand being as stubborn as you were usually, refusing to let go of it.

"Go then, do as you want."

You almost lost balance and fell down at his chest when he released your hand. The tone of his voice was vile but the sparkle of hope that shined in your eye overcame everything else. You looked down at the key and hope was quickly replaced with a darker feeling - reality. John scoffed and murmured something to himself as the key landed back on his chest.

You didn't want to die. Not today at least.

~~~

Warm breeze locked the naked skin of your upper body. The blanket must've slid down while you were sleeping.

A breeze of fresh air… in a bunker?

John's fingertips trailed up and down your arm softly, thinking he was gentle enough to not wake you up. His movements were slow, lazy. Your heartbeat raised a little and you hoped it wouldn't reveal you were awake. Your back turned to him, you laid still and your breath was shallow. His breath was warm against your skin. He seemed to be murmuring something to himself but you couldn't make a single word out. He was humming some kind of melody.

All kinds of scenarios rushed through your head when he pulled the edge of your shirt down your shoulder. Pretend to be asleep no matter what? Then you'd be allowing whatever he planned on doing. Jump up and slap the soul out of him? Maybe, but you wouldn't know what he wanted to do… and mainly, why.

Did you want him to stop?

Did you want him to know you were awake?

The adrenaline rushed through your body as your mind was filling up with certain scenarios, making you change position in an attempt to hide it. John's hand retrieved and his murmuring stopped. You felt his gaze boring into the side of your head. Leaning closer to your face, his hot breath tickled your ear. If you turned around, you could taste his lips easily. Before you could do something you might regret later, the weight on the bed behind you disappeared as John walked away, silent like a cat.

You were left alone with your cheek and ear burning, the gentle touch of his fingers still printed on your skin. It's been so long since you experienced any kind of intimacy, kindness in general. Past few months were nothing but an exhausting fight for your life and the lives of the other members of resistance. The few joyful moments that occurred? You were too tired to appreciate and enjoy them fully. Cursing yourself you didn't do anything when John was creeping above you, you played with the scenarios in your head for as long as sleep didn't take your consciousness away.

~~~

"What did you do to Hudson?!" Blood was coming out of your mouth from John's punch, but the rage you felt numbed all possible pain. "You bastard!"

Him and his typical maniac smile.

Everytime you two met before the collapse and fought each other, he had this smile on his face whenever you could've ended him. Laughing. Not really fighting you back. Almost like he wanted to die… or he didn't care if he did at least. Or he knew you couldn't kill him. He knew it and laughed at the absurd power he had over you. You hated him for it, you hated him because he was right.

"Hudson's gone now anyway, isn't she? What's all this about, then?"

Clenching your fists around the edge of his coat, half choking him with the fabric cutting into his throat, you stopped in your rage for long enough to think about what he said. You hated to admit it but he was right.

He seemed to always be right.

Things that happened before the collapse? They were all meaningless now. What really mattered was this bunker, you, him and the danger levels outside. Were you truly angry about what he did to Hudson or did you just want a reason to start a fight with him? Did he want to start a fight when he told you, out of nowhere?

Taunting, teasing, getting expected reactions from others just to remind himself he has power over them. Power to manipulate through emotions. Maybe he truly believed he was emotionless and nothing bothered him except his family - he lied to himself the whole time. He cared too much about you. He could've had you at any time before. Yet he didn't take you, no. He didn't want to take you, he wanted you to need him. To desire him. Give up to him.

John grabbed your wrists to make you let go of his coat, his face unchanged. The smile… he won. He had all the reasons to smile - you were here with him, craving him, needing to feel the warmth of his body. The burst of emotions. There was no need to say it out loud. Letting your arms go limp in his hands, you leaned closer to his face.

"Fuck you, John."

Raising one of his eyebrows, the smile only grew bigger.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," he let your hands go and pulled you closer by the back of your neck.

You let yourself fall into the kiss - like a boat going down the river you didn't try to go against the stream at all. You still hated him but what you felt for him was growing stronger. Something you could not define with simple words. The iron taste of your blood filled your mouth and your tongue found his. The taste was somewhat hypnotizing, driving you further into the kiss.

The satisfied grunt from John didn't surprise you a bit. You had an idea he'd like the taste of blood. That it'd turn him on. Violence in general. You heard the stories about Hudson and other Falls End people that managed to escape his bunker. You were there yourself after all, you spent more time with him than you'd like to imagine.

It was all your choice - to let him live every time, let him get close to you. Let yourself fall for him. Let your lust win.

As the clothes on you both fell down to the ground piece by piece, you weren't bothered by the chilling air. You were on fire, you both were. Fire that needed to be put down and only one way of doing so. Everything about it was rough. Maybe you were still trying to kill each other but then decided not to, over and over again.

Hate and anger being overcome by love and lust and it made you want to get lost in the moment forever. Get lost in John.

Your fingertips copied the edges of his scars, his skin still rough on touch from all the bruises that didn’t heal yet. The moans resonating within the thick concrete walls sounded like they were miles away from you - silenced by you replaying all your past choices that led you to this moment.

Your nails clawed into one of his fresh scars causing John to whimper in both pain and pleasure. You didn’t do it on purpose. He knew. He felt the same joy, the same pleasure as you causing him to twitch and grasp onto you uncontrollably. It was like an out of body experience - like a bottle being constantly filled with water for years before finally overflowing and exploding. Exploding and being free.

You both were finally naked in front of each other - no more lying about your feelings, no more hiding of your thoughts. No secrets.

Bruises forming on the soft skin of your neck where John buried his head into, the sweat of your bodies becoming one. The jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, heavy panting, trembling.

"I haven't forgiven you, John."

"I know."

#far cry 5 #far cry #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x reader #john seed x female deputy #x reader #fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfiction

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chicken-mcmyers · 21 days ago

Text

Wolves and Sheep

Jacob Seed x F!Reader

Word Count: 8K

Warnings: NSFW/18+ Minors DNI

There is lots of Dirty Talk, Fingering, Edging, P in V, and Power Play. I'm so obsessed with Jacob Seed that it hurts. By the way, the Deputy has a Name here; her name is Sadie.

"The Deputy disturbed Jacobs's Hunting, and now he is hunting another Prey. "

This Story is inspired by @spookyspecterino but i wanted Jacob to stuff my own Deputy so go give her a lot of love!

Also this is my first attempt at writing smut.

The forest was silent. The kind of silence that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The kind of quiet that meant something was watching. Sadie crouched in the shadows, tucked between a deadfall and a pine that had grown at a sharp angle. Her breath was controlled and slow, matching the rhythm of the night. Her eyes tracked the faint silhouette of movement in the clearing below. Jacob Seed.

He was hunting. Deliberate and precise. A buck moved cautiously through the frost-laced grass, and Jacob’s rifle was already rising in his hands. No gloves tonight. Bare fingers wrapped tight around the grip, smooth and practiced. Sadie smiled faintly, the kind that barely tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her voice slid out of the darkness, soft and smoky. “It’s a beautiful night.” Jacob didn’t startle. Didn’t twitch. His rifle stayed steady, his body language never shifting. Only his head tilted slightly like a wolf pricking its ears. He exhaled quietly and controlled. “You gonna spoil it?” Sadie watched him, watching the line of his shoulders, the way he turned ever so slightly in the direction of her voice. “I could,” she said lazily. “But I won’t.” There was the briefest hum from him—approval? amusement? and then silence again. Until Sadie spoke. “You’re not wearing gloves,” she murmured. “Could get frostbite out here.” Jacob didn’t move for a long second. Then, slowly, he lowered the rifle. “You’ve been watching me,” he said, voice low. Not surprised. Not accusing. Just… confirming. Sadie smirked to herself. “Maybe.” Jacob’s chuckle was quiet, but it had teeth. “You stalking me, Deputy?” His tone dropped, gravel thick in his voice. “You want something?” Sadie repositioned herself, sliding back into the deeper shadows of the tree line, moving quietly as a breath. “Maybe I just like the view.”

Jacob’s boots shifted in the frost. Slow and deliberate. She heard the faint crunch of snow beneath his steps as he changed his angle, trying to get a line on her. “You like watching me work?” he asked. “Tracking. Killing.” Sadie moved again, circling behind a line of thick evergreens, staying low. “You’re good at it.” “You haven’t seen me at my best yet,” Jacob said. A promise and a threat. Sadie’s breath fogged faintly as she crouched lower. “You’re not the only one hunting tonight,” she murmured. Jacob’s grin was audible in his tone. “You think I’m prey?” A soft huff of amusement. “That’s cute.” Sadie shifted again, keeping her voice even. “I think you’ve gotten comfortable.” Jacob was already moving. Quieter now. The hunter in him remembering how to stalk, not chase. “I’m never comfortable,” he replied. “Comfort makes you weak.” “You’re cocky tonight,” she teased. “You would know,” Jacob said, the edge in his voice sharpening. “You’ve been thinking about me from the beginning, but you chose to talk to John first.” Sadie’s fingers flexed on the grip of her sidearm, but she didn’t draw. Not yet. She smiled faintly, her voice like smoke. “You jealous?” Jacob stopped moving. His next words cut the distance between them. “No,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

Sadie shifted position again, moving higher along the ridge. “Are you always this eager?” The amusement in her voice was subtle but there. Jacob’s breath was a slow exhale through the comms. “You think this is eager?” His tone turned rougher. “I’m playing with you.” “You’re not doing a very good job,” she baited. “You’re wet,” Jacob said flatly. It wasn’t a question. It was an observation. Sadie’s smile deepened, and her voice stayed smooth. “You’re imagining things.” “I’ve been imagining all kinds of things,” Jacob replied. His steps were close now. “So far, none of them were wrong.” Sadie’s tongue flicked over her lips; breath steady as she pressed tighter to the tree. “You fantasize about me while you’re culling the herd, Jacob?” Her voice dropped. “Or do you save that for when you’re alone?” Jacob’s boots stopped again. “You think I need to be alone to handle you?” Another pause. “I could take you right here, with my men watching. And you’d beg me not to stop.” Sadie felt the heat curl in her stomach. “You assume a lot.” “I know,” Jacob said, his tone like gravel and smoke. “You like an audience.” Sadie’s heart thudded harder, but her breathing stayed even. “You’re bold tonight.” “I’ve been patient long enough.”

She heard him moving faster now. Not rushing but hunting. “You going to catch me, Jacob?” she murmured. “You want to be caught,” he answered. Sadie repositioned again, circling to his blind spot. “You’ll have to earn it.” Jacob’s breathing stayed steady. But his next words hit like a shot. “I’ll have your back against a tree in five minutes.” Another pause. “You’ll be begging in three.” Sadie’s pulse jumped, but she didn’t let it show in her voice. “You always make promises you can’t keep?” “I always keep mine,” Jacob said. And the confidence in his voice made her shiver. The moon broke through the clouds then, silver light cutting through the trees. Sadie moved into the clearing silently. Jacob was already there. Their eyes locked across space. Predator and predator. His rifle was slung over his shoulder now. Hands free. Ready. Her fingers flexed at her sides, but she didn’t reach for her gun. Not yet. “Found you,” Jacob said quietly. Sadie smirked. “Then come get me.” And he did.

The moment Jacob’s boots shifted toward her; Sadie moved. Fast and fluid. Her legs cut through the underbrush with practiced ease. Boots pounding frost and dead leaves, her body low and tight as she sprinted for cover. Her breath came steadily, controlled. But she knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. And neither did he. Jacob smiled. Just a slow, cold curve of his mouth. No rush. He let her get some distance. Watched the way she cut through the woods. Efficient and calculated. But not running from him. For him. And God, did he like that. His hand rose to his radio, thumb clicking it on. “Run, little rabbit.” Sadie’s own radio crackled. She thumbed it on without breaking stride. Her breath was still even. “You’re slow,” she said, voice low and taunting. But she was smiling. He could hear it. Jacob’s boots moved through the woods behind her. Unhurried but gaining. “I like you like this,” he said. “Moving. Focused.” A pause. “You’re already breathing harder. I can hear it.” Sadie exhaled through her nose, not bothering to hide the faint hitch in her breath as she pushed herself harder. Up a ridge. Through a gulley slick with ice. Jacob’s voice stayed in her ear. Low. Rough. Relentless. “Bet you’re getting wet, too.” “You think too highly of yourself,” Sadie rasped. But it wasn’t denial. Her voice was thickening with exertion—and something else. Jacob chuckled. Dark and pleased. “You’re the one running for me.” A beat. “You’ve been running to me for a long time.”

Sadie’s boots slammed into the soft snow at the bottom of a slope, knees bending with the impact. She pushed off again, faster now. But his voice was right there with her. “You’re gonna be panting by the time I’ve got my hands on you,” Jacob said. “’Gonna have you up against a tree, one hand around your throat, the other between your legs.” Sadie swallowed back a breath. Her heart was pounding harder. “You’re gonna beg me to touch you,” he continued. “Or maybe I’ll just watch you do it yourself.” She veered sharply to the left, cutting through a narrow space between fallen trees. The branches clawed at her jacket and snagged her hood. “You’re gonna get yourself all worked up,” Jacob said, still steady, still calm, “While I stand there and watch.” Sadie’s breathing grew heavier as she ducked under a low branch, fingers catching the bark for balance. Her thumb flicked onto the radio again. “You gonna touch yourself too, Jacob?” she rasped. His voice was darker when he answered. “I don’t need to. I’ll make you come just from my voice.” Sadie’s pulse spiked; breath sharp through her teeth. “You’ll be dripping,” Jacob said. “Panting. Your fingers shaking because you’ll want me to finish you off.” Sadie huffed a breath. “Big talk.” Jacob’s boots were closer now. She could feel it. Hear the crunch of frost, unhurried. “You want me to catch you,” he said. “You want me to drag you down into the snow, tear your clothes open and fuck you until you’re raw.”

Sadie’s hands clenched tighter on her rifle. She moved faster. She hit the tree line hard, ducking behind a rocky outcrop. Stopped and waited. Listening and watching. Jacob’s breath came faint through the radio. He wasn’t winded. He was patient. Hungry. But in control. “You’re already aching for it,” Jacob said. His voice was smooth. Confident. “You’re wet now. Dripping.” Sadie slid along the rock face, breathing faster. But her smirk stayed. “I like making you work for it,” she murmured back. Jacob’s reply was instant. “I like knowing you’re gonna be trembling before I ever touch you. When I catch you,” Jacob said, “You’re not going anywhere for hours.” Sadie ran again. Harder. Her boots slammed into the cold earth, sending up sprays of frost. “I’m gonna have you tied to my bed,” Jacob said, “Wrists bound so tight you won’t even try to pull free.” Sadie’s pulse thudded in her throat, but she stayed focused. Kept moving. “Gonna fuck you so deep,” Jacob continued, “You won’t know where I end, and you begin.” Sadie’s voice rasped over the radio. “You rehearsed that?” Jacob’s laugh was low. “Every night.”

The game stretched on. Sadie kept moving. Jacob kept hunting. His boots steady. His breathing calm. But his words got darker. Hungrier. “You’ll be screaming my name by the time I’m done,” he said. “Begging. Crying.” Sadie’s lips curled into a slow, dark grin. “You sure about that?” she whispered. Another beat of silence. Then Jacob’s voice came low, rough. “I’ve never been surer of anything.” Sadie ducked behind another tree, heart hammering. Not from fear. From anticipation. She wanted him to work for it. And he was enjoying every second of the hunt. And so was she. The cold air stung her lungs now. Sadie ran harder, deeper into the forest, legs burning, her breath coming faster. The tree limbs clawed at her jacket, thorns dragged against her gloves, but she never slowed. She was good at this. She’d always been good at this. But this wasn’t just running. This wasn’t just a chase. This was him. Always right behind her. Always in her ear. And it was working.

“Still moving,” Jacob’s voice crackled in her ear, deep and steady. “You’ve got stamina. I like that.” Sadie ducked under a fallen tree, vaulting over thick roots as she cut through another gully. But his voice stayed close. Inescapable. “You’re gonna need it. When I catch you,” Jacob murmured, “I’m not going to fuck you.” A long, deliberate pause. “Not right away.” Sadie’s breath hitched as she jumped a narrow ravine. She landed hard, knees bending to absorb the impact, and then she was moving again. But slower. “You’ll be on your knees first,” Jacob continued. “Hands tied behind your back. Mouth open.” Sadie bit down on the inside of her cheek. Her breath dragged through her teeth. But she didn’t answer. “You’ll thank me for every second I make you wait,” Jacob said, his tone low, patient. “And when I finally let you have it, you’ll sob for it.” Her legs burned now, lungs tight as she scrambled up a steep ridge. But her hand shook slightly when she grabbed the roots for balance. She hated that he knew. Hated that she liked it. The control he had without ever laying a hand on her. And he knew it, too.

“I can see you,” Jacob said. “Even when I’m not there.” Sadie ducked behind another rock outcropping, pressing close to the stone, listening. Her breathing was louder now, harsher in her own ears. “You on your knees,” he said, “Lips swollen from sucking me raw. Tears in your eyes because you’re begging me to let you come.” Sadie’s thighs clenched before she could stop them. Her free hand fisted in the dirt beside her. “You’re going to fall apart for me,” Jacob said. “Piece by piece. You’ll forget your name. You’ll forget everything but me.” She pushed off the rock, sprinting again, angry at herself for how badly her body responded. She was used to being in control. But his voice was everywhere. Thick. Heavy. Wrapping around her like a noose. “You’ll sleep in my bed,” Jacob continued, calm and certain. “Collar around your throat so you remember who you belong to.” A pause. “You’ll warm my cock every night. And you’ll love it.” Sadie’s breathing stuttered. A sharp gasp caught in her throat. But she didn’t stop. Wouldn’t. “You’ll wake up full of me,” Jacob said, “Every morning. Because I’ll use you in your sleep.” Sadie tripped over a root but caught herself, breath coming ragged now. “You’ll beg me to do it again.”

Her legs felt heavier. Her breath became harder. But not from exertion. Her pulse thudded between her thighs now, every word crawling under her skin, sinking deep. And he knew it. “You’re so wet,” Jacob said again. “I’d have you open right now if I touched you. Soaking.” Sadie ground her teeth together. Her fingers tightened around the grip of her rifle, but it was slick from sweat. “You’ll beg to ride me,” Jacob murmured. “Hands behind your back. No control.” A beat. “You’ll take me until you’re crying.” Sadie veered sharply, pushing herself toward an old hunting blind she remembered nearby. She needed distance. Time. But she wasn’t fast enough. Not in her head. “I’ll leave you empty for days,” Jacob said. “Make you work for it. Make you earn it.” Sadie ducked into the blind, crouched low, breathing hard. “You’ll look at me like you do now,” Jacob said. “Hungry and desperate.” Her hand shook as she thumbed the radio. “You’re full of shit,” she rasped. Jacob’s chuckle was low. Cruel. “You say that now.” Sadie’s breath stuttered again, but she forced it through her teeth. “You’re not going to break me,” she said. Jacob’s tone was iron. “I already am.”

Sadie sat there for a moment, breathing hard, trying to get her pulse under control. But she could hear him. Still moving. Still hunting. And she was still running. But not away. Sadie forced her legs to move, muscles burning as she pushed herself back into the run. Through the undergrowth. Over fallen logs slick with frost. Her lungs scraped cold air, and each breath tasted sharper, tinged with adrenaline—and something else. She knew he was close. She could feel it. The weight of him always there. She made a sharp turn, spotting the old pine ahead—its branches thick, its trunk scarred from years of storms. Her gloved hands caught bark as she pulled herself up. Quick. Precise. Silent. By the time she was halfway up, crouched along a thick branch nearly twenty feet above the ground, she allowed herself one deep, quiet breath. The forest was still. The shadows thick. And then— Jacob appeared beneath her.

He moved slow, boots quiet over the cold earth. Tracking wasn’t hard. He followed her. When he stepped into the clearing at the base of the tree, he looked up. And there she was. Perched like a hawk. Watching him. Silent. Still. Jacob smiled slowly. Not wide. Not amused. Just satisfied. “Nice spot,” Jacob said, his voice low. He circled the tree's base slowly, head tilted back just enough to meet her gaze. Sadie said nothing at first. She stayed crouched, balanced perfectly, eyes calm but sharp. “You think the high ground keeps you safe?” he asked. Her voice rasped out after a moment, quiet but cutting. “Safer than the ground.” Jacob hummed in the back of his throat. “You don’t strike me as the type to hide.” Sadie’s lips twitched faintly, but she didn’t rise to it. She adjusted her position slightly on the branch, testing its give. “Not hiding,” she murmured. “Hunting.” Jacob’s smile deepened. “I’ve hunted wolves who climbed higher than they should have,” Jacob said, circling the tree again. “They always fall.” He paused. “Or I make them jump.” Sadie’s green eyes stayed on him, unmoving. “You gonna make me jump, Jacob?” she asked, voice low. Jacob’s eyes gleamed faintly in the moonlight. “I don’t have to.” He stepped closer, resting a gloved hand against the trunk. “You’ll come down on your own.” Sadie tilted her head, watching him from her perch. “And why’s that?” His voice was quiet. Certain. “Because you want what’s waiting for you down here.”

Jacob ran his fingers slowly over the bark as if testing its strength. “You’ll slide down slow,” he murmured. “Boots hitting the ground like you’re ready to fight.” A pause. “You’ll walk right up to me. Hands shaking, but pretending you’ve still got control.” Sadie stayed silent. But her fingers curled slightly against the branch. Jacob kept going. “You’ll look up at me,” he said. “Eyes wide, lips parted, waiting for me to tell you what to do.” Another pause “And I will.” Sadie’s breath shuddered, but she stayed where she was. For now. “When I tell you to drop to your knees,” Jacob continued, “You will.” His voice stayed calm. Like he was laying out orders for a mission. “You’ll open your mouth for me without a word,” he said. “Because you’ll be desperate to taste me.” Sadie shifted slightly, heat coiling in her gut again. But she didn’t move toward him. Not yet. “I won’t even need to touch you,” Jacob murmured. “You’ll fuck yourself on my boot if I told you to.”

Sadie’s fingers twitched. “You’ll thank me for making you wait,” Jacob said, “For making you earn me.” Her voice came soft, almost thoughtful. “You talk too much.” Jacob chuckled. He stepped back from the tree, lifting his chin slightly. “I’ll give you one more minute to come down,” he said, “On your own.” Sadie arched a brow, shifting to a crouch. “You planning to climb up after me?” There was something teasing there, but sharper too. Jacob’s smile was slow, dangerous. “I’ll cut the tree down.” Sadie smirked. But her heart was pounding. And he knew it. Jacob glanced at his watch, calm and easy. “You’ve got fifty seconds.” Sadie stayed crouched on the branch, unmoving. Thinking. Waiting. Jacob clicked his radio back on. His voice was lower now. “You come down for me,” he said, “And I’ll make it worth your while.” Sadie didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Perched on her branch, she watched Jacob below, calm and collected as ever. But she could feel it. The tension. The coil of muscle beneath the skin, the edge sharpening with every second she held still. And she wanted to see how close he’d get to snapping. How much he’d let her take before he took it back.

Her legs burned from crouching, her hands loose on the branch, but her breath stayed steady. She dragged the silence out longer. Long enough. Jacob didn’t look away. Didn’t move. He stood at the base of the tree like a predator staring down its prey, but something darker simmered behind his gaze. His patience was legendary. But not infinite. His voice cracked through the radio again, rougher this time. “You’re testing me.” Sadie smiled faintly. Didn’t answer. “You think you’ve got time to play your little games,” Jacob continued. “You don’t.” His jaw flexed. His fingers curled tight at his sides, and when he spoke next, his tone dropped. “If I have to come up there, you’ll regret it.” Sadie let that hang. Still watching. “I’ll drag you down by your hair,” he growled, “Face-first into the dirt.” His boots shifted, a faint crunch in the frost. “I’ll make you scream for me in the snow. Naked. Begging. Where anyone could see.” Sadie exhaled slowly, her pulse a steady pound in her throat. But she stayed still. Jacob’s voice went lower. Sharper. “You think I won’t break you right here?” She stayed silent. Forcing him to feel the power of her silence.

His composure cracked just slightly. “Ten seconds,” he said, steel in his tone now. “That’s all you have left. I’ll rip the branch out from under you. I’ll put you on your knees.” A beat. “I’ll make you forget you ever ran.” His breathing was tighter now. Measured, but with effort. He was close. So close. Sadie’s green eyes gleamed. She waited until the last second.His fingers twitched, as if he were about to grab his knife and make good on all those promises. And then she moved. Fast and controlled. Sadie pushed off the branch with both feet, twisting her body as she dropped. Twenty feet down. Straight at him. Jacob barely had time to widen his stance before she slammed into him. They hit the ground hard, her knees straddling his hips, her weight forcing his back into the frost. Her hands caught his wrists, pinning them into the dirt. And still, his face was calm. Quiet. But his pulse jumped under her grip.

Sadie’s breath was ragged, but her smirk was sharp. “Got you.” Jacob looked up at her. Her flushed skin, her chest rising and falling fast, those green eyes flashing with fire. He let her sit there. For now. His wrists flexed under her grip. Testing. She was strong. Focused. But she wasn’t going to hold him for long. And they both knew it. “You like this?” he asked, his voice a slow rumble. “Being on top?” Sadie’s fingers tightened on his wrists. “You’re not as scary when you’re on your back.” Jacob’s mouth curved faintly. Not quite a smile. “You won’t keep me here.” Sadie tilted her head, leaning down just enough that her breath ghosted across his lips. “Try me.” And he did.

In the next second, his legs shifted under hers, his hips bucked hard, and he twisted one wrist free with an efficiency that made her fingers slip. His hand caught her throat—not squeezing but holding. Firm. Unmoving. His other hand pinned her wrist to the dirt as he rolled them. Smooth and effortless. Now he was on top. “I told you,” Jacob murmured, his breath warm against her ear, “You wouldn’t keep me down,” Sadie smirked beneath him, even as her chest rose hard with each breath. “Had to try.” Jacob’s fingers tightened at her throat just slightly, not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind her. “You like me better up here anyway,” he rasped. Sadie’s eyes glittered. “Debatable.” Jacob chuckled low. “We’ll see.”

The frost seeped through her back into her jacket. His weight pressed her into the dirt. His hand steady on her throat. His hips settled between hers, pinning her as much as his stare did. Neither moved. Both waiting. Both breathing hard. But Jacob had what he wanted now. And he wasn’t going to let it go easily. The cold seeped into her back from the frost-laced ground. But Sadie barely noticed it.Her breath came hard, fogging in the air between them, but her green eyes stayed sharp. Defiant. Jacob watched her, gaze steady, calculating. He wasn’t in a rush. He wasn’t here to lose control. He was here to take it. And she knew it. “You’re holding back,” he said, his thumb dragging slowly along the line of her jaw. His free hand left her wrist slow and deliberate, gloved fingers trailing down her side. Over her ribs. Her hip. Firm pressure, enough to claim, not enough to satisfy. “You’ll break,” he murmured, “Slow. Clean.”

He shifted his hand lower, dragging his knuckles between her legs over the seam of her pants. “But not until I make you beg.” Sadie’s hips twitched reflexively. Her breath caught, but she forced her expression blank. She wouldn’t give him that. Jacob chuckled, quiet and dark. “I like how hard you fight it,” he said, “It makes it sweeter when you lose.”, You’re going to be disappointed,” she rasped. Her voice was hoarse but steady. She shifted under him, testing his hold, but he didn’t budge. Jacob’s grip tightened on her throat just slightly—not cutting off air, just reminding her he could. And he would. “I’m never disappointed,” he said, “Because I always get what I want.” His fingers worked the button on her pants, slow and careful. Methodical. Like everything he did. “You’re already wet,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. It was a fact. Sadie’s teeth clenched. Her hips shifted again, involuntary. Jacob’s voice dropped lower. “You’ll be soaked by the time I let you have anything more.” His hand slid under the waistband, the heat of him sudden and overwhelming against her skin.

But he didn’t move fast. Didn’t give. Just the slowest stroke of his fingers along where she was already slick, already aching. Barely there. “Feel that?” he murmured, “That’s mine.” Her breath hitched in her throat. Her fingers clenched into the dirt beneath her gloves. But she didn’t make a sound. Not yet. Jacob hummed low in approval—or maybe it was disappointment. She wasn’t sure. Didn’t care. “You want more,” he said, “But you won’t ask.” A pause. “I like that.” His fingers stroked again, just enough to make her hips roll without thought. A light, maddening pressure that promised everything and gave nothing. “You’re going to be shaking,” he said, “By the time I let you finish.” Sadie ground her teeth together, biting back a sound that wanted out. Jacob leaned in closer, lips brushing her ear. “You’ll say please,” he murmured, “And then I’ll make you scream.” Sadie exhaled slowly, a hiss through her teeth. “You’re going to be waiting a long time,” she managed. Jacob chuckled again. Low and pleased. “I’m patient,” he said. And then he stopped.

His hand pulled back, leaving her cold and aching. His weight shifted slightly, giving her just a little space. “You’ll ask me,” he said again. And he was so sure. Sadie’s fingers curled tighter into the frost-dusted ground. Her breathing was ragged now, chest heaving under his weight. But she refused to say it. Not yet. He stayed there. Watching. Waiting. “You’ve got time,” he said. “I can wait all night.” And Sadie knew he could. Knew he would. But so would she. He watched her breathe through her nose; jaw tight, green eyes dark with defiance. But her pulse hammered against his palm. Her body was giving her away even if her mouth stayed shut. “You’ll beg,” he murmured, voice low and certain. “You’ll say it soft. Like you’re ashamed.” He shifted his hips forward, slowly, grinding against her just enough to make her feel him. “I’ll make you say it again, louder. So, I know it’s real.”

Sadie clenched her jaw harder, breath shallow. He was already hard. Thick. Pressing into her where their bodies were flush. And it infuriated her that her body responded before her brain could catch up. Her hips tilted up. Seeking friction. Jacob’s mouth curled in that faint smile. He knew. “You’re close,” he murmured. “You’re fighting it. And it’s only getting worse.” His thumb dragged along her jaw again, slow and deliberate, before trailing lower, following the line of her throat, the faint scrape of his nail sending shivers down her spine. “You’ll break,” he said softly. And she almost did. Her lips parted for breath, her chest rising hard against his weight. She could feel his cock pressed against her through both their clothes, hot and throbbing. It was getting to him too. She could feel it. And she planned to use that.

She shifted under him, hips tilting again, this time deliberately. Grinding up into his. Jacob’s breath hitched, just for a second. It was all she needed. Her free hand moved fast, catching his wrist where he pinned her throat. And while his attention was momentarily split, she hooked a leg around his and bucked—hard. It wasn’t enough to throw him. But it was enough to unbalance. And Sadie twisted. Jacob let her. Sadie rolled them fast and clean, ending up straddling his hips now, her knees planted hard on either side of his body. Her hands caught his wrists and slammed them down into the frozen dirt. Her chest heaved. Her green eyes glinted dark. “You’re not the only one who can take control,” she rasped. Jacob’s grin was sharp, teeth flashing. “Show me.”

Her grip tightened on his wrists, holding him there. For now. Her hips ground down into his slow and punishing. She felt him throb beneath her, hard and desperate. But he stayed still. Letting her work for it. Sadie leaned down; breath hot against his ear. “You’re aching for me.” Jacob’s breath hitched. But his voice stayed low. “I’ve been aching for a long time.” Her teeth grazed his jaw as she dragged her hips down into his again, feeling the press of him through their clothes. “You’re not so patient now,” she murmured. His fingers flexed beneath her grip. She could feel him testing it. Testing her. “You’re doing good,” Jacob said, his tone gravel rough. “Making me wait.” Sadie smiled faintly. “You like that?” “I like watching you work for it,” he said. “But you won’t keep me here long.”

She released one of his wrists just long enough to drag her hand down his body. Over his chest. His stomach. Down to where he was thick and straining. Her gloved hand stroked him through his pants, slow and deliberate. He was hard. Hot. Jacob exhaled harshly through his teeth. But he didn’t move. Didn’t try to buck up. Not yet. Sadie’s voice was a low purr. “You need me to touch you properly.” Sadie’s hand kept stroking, slow and steady. Jacob’s hips stayed pinned beneath hers, but she could feel the way he wanted to move. Wanted to take. “You’re close,” she said, echoing his earlier words.

Jacob’s jaw clenched. His stare burned into her. “You’re the one panting,” he said. “You’re the one soaking.” She smirked. And leaned in closer. “Doesn’t mean I’ll beg.” “You will,” Jacob said, his low voice vibratingd through her bones. Sadie’s hand squeezed him through his pants, dragging another rough exhale from him. “I might make you beg first,” she murmured. Jacob’s grin was dark. “I’m already letting you have this.” Neither moved for a moment. Both breathing hard. Both straining for control.

Sadie ground her hips into his again, harder this time. And Jacob groaned low, sharp. But his hands stayed still beneath hers. For now. She could feel him throbbing under her palm. And Jacob was holding still with that impossible patience of his, but Sadie wasn’t fooled. Not for a second. His breathing was tighter. His pulse hammering in his throat where she could feel it. And his eyes—those cold, wolfish eyes—were burning. He was close. And he was waiting for her to make a mistake. But Sadie didn’t plan on giving him the chance. Slowly, she peeled off her glove with her teeth, her green eyes locked on his the whole time.

The cold bit into her bare fingers, but she didn’t care. She slid her hand back down, over his stomach, under the waistband of his pants, slipping inside. No barrier now. Nothing but skin. Jacob’s breath caught hard. It was the first real crack in his composure. Sadie’s hand wrapped around him, slow and tight. And he groaned—low and deep, teeth grit hard to keep the sound from escaping. “You’ve been waiting for this,” she murmured. His jaw clenched, but he nodded once. She stroked him slow. Steady. Her thumb swiped over the sensitive head, dragging slickness in a careful circle. Enough pressure to make him twitch under her, hips giving a subtle thrust. But she pulled back just before he could grind into her.

Jacob growled low in his throat but didn’t move. Yet. Sadie smiled faintly. “You’re holding on.” Her voice dropped, husky and dark. “For now.” Jacob’s breath came heavier. “Don’t push your luck.” She did anyway. She stroked him faster. Harder. Just enough. And right when his hips jerked upright, when his breath caught, and his free hand flexed into the earth— She stopped. Completely. Jacob snarled. It was low and dangerous. But his eyes still held onto that glimmer of patience. “You’re playing with fire,” he warned. Sadie leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “I’m not afraid of getting burned.” Her hand moved again, wrapping around him, stroking slowly. Dragging him back toward that edge. His breath turned ragged, hips twitching again. Desperate for more. And she denied him. Again.

This time his entire body tensed under hers. He was shaking now. With restraint. With need. Sadie felt the exact moment his patience ran out. It was in the growl that tore from his throat—raw and hungry. In the way his free hand shot up to catch her wrist, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. In the way his hips bucked up into her hand, forcing her to feel just how hard he was for her. “You’re done,” Jacob snarled. And then he moved. Fast and brutal. One second, Sadie was on top, her hand still wrapped around him. The next, she was on her back, Jacob’s body heavy over hers, his hands catching her wrists and slamming them into the dirt above her head. His breathing was ragged now. He was panting. And his eyes—those sharp, ice-blue eyes—were wild. “You like pushing,” he growled. “You like making me lose.” Sadie’s breath came hard. But she still smirked. “Someone has to.”

Jacob snarled again, dipping his head down. His mouth crushed against hers, rough and hot, teeth scraping her lip hard enough to sting. But she opened for him, their tongues clashing, messy and desperate. He tore his mouth away, dragging his lips over her throat. Biting down just enough to leave a mark. “You’re mine,” he rasped, voice ragged. “I’m going to make sure you feel it.” His hands were everywhere now. One still pinning both her wrists. The other dragging down her body—gripping her hip, her thigh. Forcing her legs open around him. “You’ve been teasing,” Jacob growled, grinding down into her. “Now you get to take it.”

Sadie’s breath hitched, but she didn’t break. Not yet. Jacob’s mouth crashed back to hers, rougher this time. His tongue took what it wanted, and she gave as good as she got, biting his lower lip and dragging a sound from him that was almost a groan. He dragged his lips back to her ear, breath hot and uneven. “I’m not stopping until you beg.” And this time? It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. Jacob had her where he wanted her. Pinned beneath him, wrists locked in one of his hands, her body tense beneath his weight. Breathing hard. Defiant still—but not for long. He liked this part. The waiting. The slow destruction of walls she thought she could hold up. Sadie was a fighter. She didn’t bend easily. But when she did? She broke beautifully. And he was going to make sure she did.

Sadie bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound. Jacob was breathing against her skin, mouth grazing the line of her throat where his teeth had already left bruises. His free hand moved slowly. Too slow. Dragging down her body. Over her ribs. Her stomach. She hated how hot her skin felt under his palm. How fast her heart was pounding. His hand slid between her thighs again, spreading them further apart without asking without needing to. And still, he didn’t give her anything. “You’re shaking,” Jacob murmured against her ear. “You’re holding on so tight.” His thumb brushed over her lower lip. “Let go.” Sadie shook her head once, teeth clenched. Jacob smiled against her skin. “You’ll beg,” he promised. “Soon.”

His fingers stroked along her inner thigh. Soft at first. Then firmer. He avoided where she wanted him most—trailing just close enough to make her hips shift involuntarily. Over. And over. “You’re already soaked,” he said, voice low and thick. “I can feel it through your pants.” Her breath hitched, but she stayed silent. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet. Jacob chuckled, dark and low. “You’ll say please,” he said. “You’ll tell me you need it.” And then he touched her. Not where she expected. He dragged his hand up and slipped it beneath her shirt. Calloused fingers brushed over her ribs and her stomach before cupping one of her breasts. His thumb rolled over her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra.

Sadie exhaled a ragged breath. Her back arched without permission. Jacob took that as an invitation. He slid his hand inside her bra, bare skin now, rough fingertips teasing the sensitive bud until she let out a soft, choked sound. Half-gasp. Half-growl. He chuckled. “There she is.” Her thighs clenched around his hips. Her wrists strained against his grip. She was on fire, and he wasn’t stopping. “You’re close,” Jacob murmured. “I can feel it.” Sadie glared at him. But her lips stayed sealed. Jacob leaned in, his teeth scraping along her jaw. “You want to come.” She did. God, she did. But she wasn’t ready to give him that.

His hand slid back down. Unfastened her pants with brutal precision, tugging them down just enough to bare her to the cold air. And then his fingers slid between her legs. Hot. Wet. She was already throbbing for him. Jacob exhaled hard, his control fraying but not breaking. “Look at you.” He stroked her slowly, dragging his fingers through her slick folds. Light at first. Then firmer. Finding the spot that made her hips buck. Then backing off. Over and over. Sadie growled low, frustrated. Her body trembled, her breathing ragged. Jacob’s lips brushed her ear. “Say it,” he murmured. “Say you need me.” Sadie fought it. She fought him. Her body begged, but she wasn’t ready to give in. Her pride—her will—held.

Until his fingers slid inside her. Two of them. Deep. Perfect. And then he curled them just right. Her mouth dropped open, a sound caught between a moan and a gasp escaping. She couldn’t stop it. Jacob growled softly. “So close.” He was right. Too close. And he stopped. Sadie snarled, trying to buck against his hand, but he pulled away. Completely. “Not yet,” he said. “You’ll beg.” Sadie glared at him. Panting now. Her thighs were trembling. Sweat beading along her skin despite the cold. Jacob watched her. His hand rested on her thigh. Warm. Ready. Sadie’s jaw clenched tight. Her pulse raced. Her hips still tried to find his touch. “You’re already broken,” Jacob said, voice rough. “You just haven’t realized it yet.”

And then his hand moved again. Slower. Surer. And this time, he wasn’t letting her off the hook. Jacob wasn’t rushing. He never did. Every move was calculated and intentional. He’d been patient this long—he could wait a little longer to break her. He liked watching her fight it. He liked knowing she couldn’t win. His fingers slid through her again, slow and deliberate. Spreading her open. Testing her. She was soaked. He could feel how close she was with every twitch of her hips, every stuttered breath she tried to swallow down. And still, she wouldn’t say it. Not yet.

Jacob smiled faintly. He could fix that. Sadie’s fingers flexed uselessly in the dirt. Her wrists were still pinned above her head in his iron grip. Her chest rose and fell hard, each breath dragging ragged through her lungs. Her thighs trembled where they bracketed his hips, her body begging for more even as she kept her jaw locked tight. But Jacob knew. He felt it. He could see it. He curled his fingers inside her again, finding the spot that made her hips jerk without thought. Sadie gasped, biting her lip hard to keep the sound in. Jacob’s thumb circled over her clit, slow and steady. Just enough. The perfect amount of pressure to send heat coiling low in her belly, her body tightening, shaking— And he stopped. Again.

Jacob murmured, voice low and rough against her ear. “You can feel it, can’t you?” Sadie’s breathing was a ragged mess now, sweat beading along her temple despite the cold. “You want to let go,” he went on. “But you can’t. Not until I say.” His fingers slid back inside, slower this time, his thumb finding her again with the same devastating precision. Sadie’s hips jerked. Her moan slipped out before she could catch it. Jacob groaned softly, pleased. “That’s it.” He worked her up again. And again. And again. Bringing her to the edge— Then pulling back. Leaving her throbbing and empty.

Sadie bucked up against his hand, breath coming in gasps now. But he denied her. Every time. She was trembling beneath him. Her body was on fire. Every nerve lit up and screamed for him to finish it. But Jacob waited. His eyes locked on hers. “You’re going to beg,” he said softly. “I’ll make you.” Sadie’s teeth clenched again. She tried to shake her head. But his thumb found her again, circling hard enough to make her cry out. “Say it,” Jacob rasped. “Tell me what you want.” Sadie turned her head to the side, eyes squeezing shut. But it didn’t help. His fingers moved inside her again, fucking her slow and deep, his thumb circling with brutal precision. And when he stopped again—just as she was about to go over— She sobbed in frustration.

Jacob’s breath was rough now, too. He was hard against her, throbbing but still holding back. Her pride cracked. Her hips rolled up in one last desperate attempt to find his touch again, her wrists straining against his hold. And then her voice broke. “Please,” she whispered. Jacob stilled. Watching her. Sadie dragged in a breath; her throat raw. “Please… Jacob.” His grip on her wrists tightened. Hard. “Yes?” Her jaw trembled, but she met his gaze. “Make me come.” Jacob groaned low, the sound deep and rough. He rewarded her immediately. His fingers slammed back inside her, his thumb pressing hard against her clit. Relentless. Perfect. “Good girl,” he rasped. “Now let go.” And Sadie did. Her body shattered beneath him, hips jerking wildly, a sob breaking from her lips as pleasure ripped through her. She shook under his hands, her legs trembling as he worked her through it. Slow. Cruel. Giving her everything she begged for.

Her body was boneless beneath him when it was over. Her breath was ragged. Spent. Jacob leaned down, kissing her throat where her pulse thundered. His hand was still between her legs, holding her open. Still in control. “You’ll ask next time,” he murmured. And it wasn’t a question. Sadie’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She was still trying to catch her breath. Jacob smiled against her skin. Soft. Satisfied. “You’ll earn me again.” She was quiet now. No more running. No more fighting. Her body was limp beneath his, her chest heaving with the last of her ragged breaths. Jacob could still feel the tremble in her thighs as they bracketed his hips, the aftershocks of the orgasm he’d given her still sparking through her system. And he wasn’t finished. Not yet.

He took his time because that’s what Jacob Seed did. No rushing. No sloppy desperation. He moved like a man who owned this moment, this body, and everything she was going to give him from now on. Sadie was already watching him, barely able to keep her eyelids open—but she did. Green eyes hazy, lips swollen from their earlier kisses, her body pliant but still herself. Still Sadie. The one who didn’t give in easily. The one who made him earn it. And now, he’d earned everything.

His hands moved from her wrists, sliding down her arms with a firm, possessive grip. And then they found her hips. His fingers dug into her skin, thumbs pressing against the sharp bones there like he was claiming his prize. He shifted his weight and sat back on his heels, dragging her down into his lap as he did. Their eyes stayed locked. “You’re ready for me,” he said, voice rough, deep. It wasn’t a question. Sadie’s chest rose and fell, shallow breaths, but she gave the barest nod. She was. She hated how much she was. But there was no denying it now.

Jacob’s hands slid up her sides, pulling her shirt up and over her head, leaving her bare in the moonlight. He watched every inch of her skin as he exposed it. He looked at her like she was something holy. Something his. He kissed her then. Slow at first. Then deeper. His teeth scraped her bottom lip before his tongue claimed her again. His breathing was heavier now. More ragged. The control was still there—but just barely. And Sadie felt the hard line of him pressing between her thighs again, hotter now, pulsing with need. Jacob broke the kiss, resting his forehead against her for a moment as he caught his breath. “I’m going to ruin you,” he said, voice low and full of something primal. “And you’re going to let me.”

Sadie didn’t argue. She didn’t want to. Jacob’s hands made quick work of his pants, pushing them low on his hips just enough to free himself. He was heavy in his hand, thick, hard, and ready. But he didn’t touch himself. He didn’t need to. His hands found her hips again, lifting her easily. Sadie’s hands braced his shoulders instinctively, nails digging in as she felt him line up with her. Jacob’s eyes locked on hers. There was no question. No hesitation. He was going to take her now. And he did. He dragged her down onto him slowly. Inch by inch. Making her feel every stretch. Every burn. Sadie’s breath left her in a sharp exhale, her nails biting into his skin. Jacob groaned low, his hands tight on her hips, controlling every movement. “You feel that?” he rasped. “You were made for this.”

Sadie didn’t answer. Couldn’t. She was too full of him. Too stretched. Too lost in the way he filled her perfectly. He didn’t give her time to adjust. He didn’t wait. Jacob moved her. Up. Down. Dragging her along him, setting a brutal, steady pace that had her breath breaking in sobs, her body clinging to him with every thrust. His hands stayed firm, his grip bruising as he forced her to take every inch. “You’re mine,” he growled against her throat. “You’ll always be mine.” Sadie moaned then. Her head fell back, exposing her throat to him fully. Jacob’s teeth found the scar there again. He bit down hard. Claiming her in every way he knew.

His pace was relentless but precise. Not wild. Not uncontrolled. Every thrust was deep, calculated to make her feel it. Every sound she made drove him harder. But he wasn’t letting go. Not until he was ready. Sadie was shaking again; her body close to falling apart. He could feel her tightening around him, feel the way she was close. So close. But he didn’t stop. And he didn’t slow. “You’re going to come again,” Jacob said, “And you’re going to say my name when you do.” Sadie’s moan was broken now. But she obeyed. “Jacob,” she breathed. Once. Then again. And when she broke this time, it was with his name on her lips, her body shuddering around him, dragging him right over the edge with her.

Jacob groaned deep in his throat, his grip tightening as he drove into her one last time and let go. He spilled inside her, holding her down on him, his teeth finding her shoulder as he rode out every wave of it. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just held her there. Breathing hard against her skin. Sadie was limp in his arms. His. And he was still holding her like he might never let her go. Jacob’s hand smoothed along her spine now, slower. Gentler. But the possessive grip on her hip never eased. “You’re mine,” he murmured again, quieter now. A truth spoken into her skin.

#jacob seed #far cry 5 #smut #dirty talk #f!reader #fanfic #minors dni

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the-silver-chronicles · 3 months ago

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WIP Wednesday, Couple Picrew, OC Picrew & Christmas Couple Meiker

Tagged by @voidika @raresvtm @josephseedismyfather and @noodlecupcakes

Tagging @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @derelictheretic @davrinsgriffons @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai @seedsplease and @titiagls + anyone else who'd like to join.

Snippets for three FC5 WIPs, that being The True Sinners, my Vengeful!Silva AU and Harbinger AU (or Elsa lives AU). This Couple picrew for the main/prominent couples of The Silver Chronicles, this OC picrew for one standalone OC and Holiday Meiker (m/f wlw mlm nb) for two of main the Elden Ring couples. You can read below the cut:

First snippet is for The True Sinners, a FC5 WIP where Silva doesn't become a deputy (instead a hermit in her residence in the Whitetail Mountains) but is still the Muse for the Collapse. After a chance encounter with Jacob in the woods, Joseph catches wind and realizes Silva is the Muse they need and Jacob keeps her captive in St Francis as the Seeds try to win her over (in... each of their own way) to mixed results. Since it was Christmas time when I wrote this, I thought I'd show the short "not Christmas" dinner between Silva and her captors:

Entering the lounge, Silva was greeted with two pairs of the other blue (in addition to a pair of an unfairly beautiful green) eyes bringing their attention on to her, their eyes on her turtle-neck sweater, jeans and her combat boots.

As she expected, Joseph definitely expressed mild disappointment at what Silva wore, though unlike Jacob, he decided not to say anything, probably at least satisfied she was wearing something that wasn't provocative.

Out of the brothers, John seemed the least surprised towards her wardrobe choice, though she suspected, and hated to admit, that it's because he's gotten to know her well enough to figure she wouldn't wear that atrocious dress for anyone, especially them.

And lastly, Faith had lightened up upon seeing Silva enter. Her eyes raked over the other woman's form up and down, a delighted smile spread across her lips. There was a familiar glint in her eyes, one that had Silva feeling hot again, just like in the Bliss.

One thing Silva could deduce, despite how her brain began to fry from that one glance alone, was that Faith didn't know about the dress Joseph had recommended for her.

It likely wasn't very useful information, considering how Faith has entrenched herself within the Project and is obviously favored by Joseph, but Silva filed her observations away just in case. It made her feel comfort, at least.

Everyone, with exception to Faith, seemed to be dressed casually, especially for the dinner. She wasn't sure if Jacob had been fucking with her about this gathering not being about "Christmas", but the interior set up sure wasn't convincing her otherwise.

Speaking of whom, Silva heard Jacob walking up from behind her, though Faith was already off the arm of the couch and attached herself on to Silva once more, linking their arms. Ready to whisk her away from Jacob.

Silva found herself relenting to Faith's clinging hold, especially with how fed up she's been with Jacob and his mind games, letting the shorter woman lead her towards the couch.

Though they were stopped by the ginger's voice.

"Ditching me so soon?" Jacob gruff voice is light and sounds amused, though Silva could see glancing back that he's displeased by how possessive Faith is of her.

That alone gratified Silva enough to shift a tad closer to Faith, enough to brush their shoulders together, visibly placing her other hand tenderly on his sister's bicep.

It had her heart pick up a pace, and Faith looked like she was trying hard to hide her triumphant shit-eating grin which probably wouldn't help the amount of displays of affection she'd give Silva (not that she minded), but it was irritating to Jacob, so she considered it an absolute win.

And here's a snippet for the Harbinger AU where Saint Matilda outfreaks Joseph after the helicopter got shot down crashed from natural causes:

Joseph felt himself begin to wake from the darkness of unconsciousness.

His chest ached as it heaved up and down. He tried to lift his lids up, but found it to be a difficult task; the weight of fatigue pushed them back down, leaving him blind to the sight.

He knew he was lying on his back, and had been injured from the crash; a rather violent and erratic affair than he could have expected.

He had trusted that the Lord would not let the locusts take him, and he had been right in that manner; although his children tried to release him from the locusts grasp, even when it appeared they were unsuccessful, God still kept His promise, if unconventionally to what he initially foresaw.

His nose tickled, the sharpness of smoke reaching his nostrils. Something was burning. He could hear the crackles of flames too.

But that wasn't the only thing he could hear.

"From Tuesday, to Wednesday. Wednesday, to Thursday. Thursday, to Friday," he heard the softness of a woman's voice singing close to him. His face twitched when he felt a small and dainty hand, yet rather cold and calloused, caress his cheek, and her other hand running through his undone hair.

His other cheek laid against a silky cloth, with something firm underneath. He assumed his head was laid on someone's lap.

"Friday, to Saturday. Saturday, to Sunday," his unknown angel continued to sing; an odd lullaby from the sounds of it, one he's never heard of before. There was a familiarity to her soft voice though, something he knows he's heard somewhere before.

Once more, Joseph attempted to open his eyes, stirring his head upwards.

"Sunday... Sunday, to Monday. M-Monday, to Tues...day," she began to stutter. Perhaps he had spooked her, but she was still caressing his face, if slowly.

She was stuck on a word. Tuesday. He could hear how she muttered it repeatedly, as if trying to remember what came after it. Whether that be the lyrical sentence or the next day afterwards, he didn't know.

Cracks of light and shadows forced his eyes shut, but Joseph would not be deterred, needing to see who this angel was above him.

She began humming the lullaby, perhaps the rest of it, as he forced his eyes open, squinting to painfully adjust to consciousness once more.

His eyes widened open when he saw exactly who he was laying in the lap of.

Half her features were visible, while the other half was obscured by what he could see was half a porcelain - or perhaps plastic - mask, like a mannequin or doll, that had clearly been broken in half to accommodate the only half of her face that she wanted to hide.

But he couldn't forget that face.

Matilda.

She seemed different now since her exile, like she'd grown; perhaps she was in her late twenties, maybe entering her thirties now. He couldn't tell.

He noted she wore a veiled hood over her head, though strands of straight strawberry blond hair broke through on the unveiled side of her face.

The dress and robes she wore were white, with a black apron that had dark spots splattered in some areas.

Her visible eye glanced down to him, and his breath hitched when he noticed something wrong; last he saw her, her eyes were a greenish hazel.

How did it become amber?

But he was pulled from his musing when Matilda cupped his face, leaning her face closer as she whispered, "Are you alive, Father?"

Joseph opened his mouth to speak, but only vocalized the aching pain he was in.

He wasn't certain what to make of the excited smile that curled across her lips, nor the awestruck fascination that glinted in her eyes.

The couple picrews show the most consistent couples in this series, both main and minor. I'll label whose who and give a little tidbit on them:

BOA LURKING IN THE BLISS (SILVA OMAR x FAITH SEED [FAR CRY 5 & FAR CRY NEW DAWN])

Silva and Faith are pretty much the center of Silva's Hope and all of Silva's stories in general. They go through a rough start (given the whole Resistance vs Eden's Gate and the Reaping situation) but they do eventually move past that (and then straight into the slowest burn I've ever written). Silva and Faith end up healing each other and give one another what the other needs; Faith literally ends up giving Silva faith in herself, in others, in a brighter future that Silva originally didn't believe could be possible for me. Silva does give Faith her trust and kindness (and love), no conditions, no expectations to change for her, just this beautiful appreciation and warm companionship for the person she is; not as Rachel, not as the most recent of Joseph's sister(s) that embodies the ideal faith, or the hundreds of masks Faith dons on to hide, but simply as the person Silva knows her to be, and chooses to reach for in the sea of performances Faith could be.

THE BAPTIST AND THE QUOKKA (JOHN SEED x NADI SINCLAIR [FAR CRY 5, FAR CRY NEW DAWN])

Ah yes... my favorite cringefail loser couple. These pining try-hards don't end up succeeding in doing anything productive during the Reaping... they lose the Revelator on its first day out after all. They can't keep Fall's End for even a week before Silva reclaims it again. They both get their asses handed to them by the same deputy (Silva) in majority of encounters with her. Somehow surprising that they survive against her at all. Majority of the county may hate them but the one thing John and Nadi can always count on is each other. Nothing will make them hate or turn against the other. They're the ride-or-die pairing in Silva's Hope and Old Dusk. They both may suck but at least they're suckers for each other... once they get past the pining phase. Somehow it'll be faster than Silva and Faith's slow burn.

THE FOX AND THE SOLDIER (ALEXANDER KHAOS x JACOB SEED [FAR CRY 5, FAR CRY NEW DAWN])

AKA older guy struggling with showing emotions reluctantly finds himself in a situationship with his second in command whose loyalty is as dubious as his morality, someone send him help. Or where Jacob refuses to admit he's become a cougar. Anyway, I find Jacob and Alexander's relationship to be fascinating. Because it's all really dubious and ambiguous, especially in Silva's Hope. Because they both do have some things in common; they've dehumanized themselves in order to survive (notably cannibalism) and have locked away their emotions behind a mask that only shows to a select few. They also have their contrasts though; Jacob is in charge of training and protecting the family/cult despite only loyally following Joseph because he has faith in his brother, and Alexander is someone who follows the person who aligns with his ideals the strongest in spite of the fact he has very good leadership qualities that he only uses to gather his own loyal following for a coup in the circumstance the person he follows no longer aligns with his ideals (I like to say Alexander's a mix of Jafar from Aladdin and Phillip Graves from COD: MW2 (2019), but really Alexander is just a guy who likes to have influence over his chosen boss while remaining behind the scenes perceived as an underling so if something ever goes wrong, he won't receive the blame). A few other contrasts include Jacob's "strong survive while the weak are culled" whereas Alexander's is more "strength in unity and reworking the weak to become something better" (hence why Hannah McCalkin from Inside Eden's Gate is alive in my Silva's Hope WIP; Alexander personally prepared her for the Trials and passes it, unlike her canon fate where she didn't last long according to a note written by Jacob) as a sort of "nature vs nurture" dynamic though overlapping in some aspects because you can't separate one without the other. They also contrast John and Nadi's relationship; whereas those two are ride or die, Alexander and Jacob would drop one another should either display a weakness that neither can ideologically let pass, either ending with Alexander being culled or Jacob being usurped and replaced by Alexander until he finds someone else ideologically more compatible to influence and take the leadership role instead of himself. Also Jacob co-runs the cult to aid Joseph while Alexander follows Jacob while remaining uninfluenced by the cult's predatory manipulations cause he's been in one before, only this time he's not ignorant enough to blindly follow them, only doing so because "the world's ending" is actually something he believes in.

Overall to end this large quantity of words with a summary: Jacob and Alexander are toxic yaoi worse than the beginning stages of Silva and Faith's yuri.

With the holy trinity of Seedfuckers out the way, let's move on to the star couple of Old Dusk. Last one for this picrew:

MERCY OMAR-SEED x CARMINA RYE (FAR CRY NEW DAWN)

My best attempt to make a picrew for both Carmina and Mercy. Apart of the next generation of both the Ryes and the Seeds (Mercy specifically being the daughter of Silva and Faith), I thought these two deserved a more wholesome experience during the post-apocalyptic world that they were raised in, after everything their parents went through to give them something brighter. Both have been dating in secret for a long while now unbeknownst to their families (with exception to Mercy's older adopted sister Azriel, who knows but hasn't dobbed Mercy in because her younger sister also knows Azriel's been sneaking out to go see Schrödinger and so they've collectively agreed not to tell their moms until they're ready unless either want to engage in mutually guaranteed destruction). These two are best friends with Ethan by the way... he's gained himself a bit of a rebellious streak since interacting with them in Old Dusk (because it's fun to have Joseph's hair grow greyer <3).

Below is the picrews for one OC and how I'd imagine she'd likely look like and info on her:

HUNTRESS CAROLINE JÄGER (BLOODBORNE)

So straight up, usually Caroline would have golden glasses rather than these red, due to being a noble scion with wealth from old family name. Anyway, Caroline is one of three of the main protagonists in my Bloodborne WIP, and she's basically doing the side/optional/DLC quests while her brother speedruns through the main plot, though she occasionally helps him along the way, especially when they reunite in Yahar'gul. She... goes through a rough patch, especially with her journeys into all three of the Nightmares (while being haunted by Micolash), Yahar'gul as well as Castle Cainhurst, the Upper Cathedral Ward and the Chalice Dungeons. That's not even going into facing her own brother in the Hunter's Dream.

Lastly we have two couples from Elden Ring for the Holiday Meiker:

CHIWA x SELKE THE ALL-SEEING MAGE (ELDEN RING)

Pretty much the closest I could get to their canon stories. Chiwa's on the left and Selke's on the right. Chiwa is one of Queen Marika's demigod children and she pretty much awoke into existence after a combination ritual that involved the Frenzy Flame and the Rune of Rebirth, as well as a contract with the Formless Mother. She has no idea what she's been pushed into. She has Marika's Grace coursing within her so she can revive from death, which is odd since only the Tarnished are capable of such a thing... speaking of which, Selke is a Tarnished, a former astrologer graduate of the Raya Lucaria Academy and joined the Golden Order along with her mentor, a Tarnished who was a Seer, if an uncanny one. They were exiled along with the rest of the Tarnished and joined the First Elden Lord, Godfrey, where they died in battle. When Grace awoke them, her mentor was with her, and he pointed her towards the Land of Shadows, as based on a vision he had, her destiny lied there instead of the Elden Throne. There she'd have an encounter with Metyr, the Mother of Fingers, who'd defeat the young Tarnished but inadvertently leave Selke blind, not by physical wounds, but by the ability to see the future always and forever when she opened her eyes. Selke knows Chiwa is apart of that future, and seeks out the lost demigod to change the fates of the Lands Between together by not playing Marika's game. Meanwhile Chiwa gains an awakening upon seeing Selke and panics.

LOGAN THE VAGABOND OF NO RENOWN x MELINA (ELDEN RING)

Or who I like to better refer to them as: the doomed straights of Elden Ring. Logan is a vagabond knight who joined up with the Golden Order some time before they (and First Elden Lord Godfrey) were exiled. Marika's Grace revived him once more and brings him back to the Lands Between... only to realize he's one of the first few Tarnished awoken a tad bit early. Melina just wants to accomplish her mother's wishes, and makes due with the only Tarnished awake who's determined to become Elden Lord, even if she finds him unbearable (though her steed Torrent seems to find Logan to be the right guy). Though bond closer along their journey, until time and war in the Lands Between fundamentally change their relationship, pushing them away from each other especially as Logan grows older and stacks up more and more regrets, especially when he steals a bit of the Frenzy Flame for what Melina could only assume to be for the worst reasons. After their departure due to that, she never sees him again, though takes upon herself to guide another, even stranger Tarnished. If only she knew...

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chyrstis · 8 months ago

Text

Lighting the Fuse 4/?

This definitely has been long overdue and then some. To the point that I've been thinking off and on about it for the two-ish years in the interim, and made it my mission once May hit this year to actually try and update it. ...And setting that goal actually seemed to work.

This seems a bit rough in places still, but I hope you all enjoy, and goal #2 now is updating again before the year ends! *crosses fingers*

Pairing: F!Dep x Sharky Boshaw, F!Dep x John Seed (be forwarned, the slow burn is in full effect here for all parties involved, and isn’t stopping anytime soon) Rating: T Warnings: Canon-typical violence (and Hana running around like the 80's action hero she likes to be pretend to be) Word Count: 6K

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / ???

___

When events are put into motion giving her a shot at an impossible task - capturing John Seed - the deputy jumps at the chance.

There’s only one problem.

She’s not the only one dying to get him, and keeping him alive when even his own people seem to want him dead isn’t looking to be an easy feat either.

______________

The fire hadn’t stopped. It’d spread, and a hell of a lot faster than Hana had hoped as she and Sharky kept running from building to building through the trailer park.

They hadn’t found Jerome yet, or any of the others. Sharky had passed off his radio to her as a means of getting in touch, but she’d caught two words from Jerome before it’d gone straight to static, and she’d upped her speed afterwards, looping around the lot that was at once too big and too small, curling in on itself as they ran in circles over and over.

They’d also gone through a few rounds of one-sided Marco Polo, mostly with Sharky yelling out Jerome’s name between shotgun blasts with no one other than the pissed off Peggies coming to retaliate, and on the fourth non-response she’d started yelling too.

“Jerome!” She cupped a hand to her face as they moved, and called out for him again, her voice straining, “Jerome!”

A hint of black in the distance caught her eye. That, and the bright flash that came from the muzzle of a shotgun, one that Jerome loaded and promptly unloaded into the nearest obstacle’s face.

It didn’t matter that there was a group of Peggies currently trying to tango with the man. She’d taken all but three steps towards him only to watch as he took the rest out one by one.

“Man,” Sharky murmured to her left before letting a whistle out. “I mean, I knew the dude was a total badass, but that? That’s fucking badass.”

Hana really couldn’t dispute it. Not when she still hadn’t moved past the first thought that struck while watching Jerome clean house in the distance: Damn.

But the stray shot that had her grabbing Sharky’s hoodie again to yank him out of the way snapped her out of it fast.

“Hon, focus. We’ve got to keep our eye on the prize, remember?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, that’s right.” He scrunched his face up, zeroing in on the man in question in the distance, and nodded. “Got that shit locked down tighter than tight, Dep.”

The trick was getting to him, though, as they cut through cover she tried to pick off a few of the others closing in on Jerome. No real easy feat as they had to keep mobile and fought to keep up, but even she was impressed with the distance they were able to cover as their party of two closed in on the Peggies attempting to flush Jerome out.

Focused on Jerome - who’d taken cover with another resistance member behind an abandoned car to dodge a lobbed molotov - they couldn’t hear her boots thudding against the dirt, or her quickened breaths. Not a single sound of it as she raised her gun up and brought the butt of it down as hard as she could muster.

The blow sent him straight to the ground, sprawling out as the other two Peggies scattered away, but quick as she got her gun back in front of her, she didn’t need it. The two hit the dirt in no time flat, and she whirled her head towards Sharky with an appreciative whistle.

With the path now clear, she skirted the nearby flames and skidded to place next to one thankfully unsinged Pastor.

- And the barrel of his shotgun.

“Whoa, wait, wait, wait-!” she yelled as she threw her hands up.

He started, but quickly lowered his gun. “Deputy. You might want to change your approach.”

“No shit. I’m-uh, definitely rethinking things. Either way, it’s good to see you. Is Grace here too?”

Jerome glanced over the cover, but didn’t move to stand up. If anything, he caught sight of Sharky continuing to blast away nearby, and stayed put. “She’s nearby. She spotted you before we were able to get any closer, and kept you in her sight for as long as possible.”

The green sight cutting through the air flashed through her mind. “Jesus. I was wondering why that sniper didn’t pop my head like a melon. Glad to know she's close, though.”

“Any word from the others?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” she said, teeth starting to worry at her lip. “Gave up my walkie to them, and told them all to hide and wait for word on our channel, but…”

“Pastor. Got movement on a group of Peggies heading south.“

Hana's eyes shot to the walkie at Jerome’s side, and he held it up. “Is it a large group? Any wounded with them?”

“Some. They’re off from the others, a few helping them get further into the woods.”

Hana glanced out towards the brush, looking back to Jerome. “Away from the river?”

“Deputy, wait-“

Jerome’s voice faded out behind her as she sprinted, eyes forward right on the trees as she dove right in.

Every inch of the forest loomed ahead, the path growing dark. The gunfire had died down in the time it took for her to disappear into the brush, but it didn’t take long for voices to call out in the distance again.

If they were cut off, they were screwed. If they lead the Peggies straight to the others they were screwed. Hell, every which way they were looking to be screwed, and she sped up as she grabbed for the radio Sharky had given her.

“Jerome,” she yelled, “don’t wait on me! Get everyone out before we’re pinned, because they’re coming in fast! I’ll get the others and once we’re clear we can double on back to-“

A figure in a long, dark coat stepped out ahead and she nearly wiped out as her boots skidded to a halt on the dirt. Hana scanned him over quickly, and a grin spread across her face before she could stop it. “…Ben? You son of a-“

That’s when she saw the weapon, raised and fixed on her. And the figure holding it wasn’t a match for Ben at all.

“…bitch,” she finished.

Two others emerged from the bushes, Peggies from the look of them, and both also armed. As she looked them over, she couldn’t pull any familiar details from them, none that matched any of the people they’d helped out earlier.

But the fourth? That, was Ben.

The brand-like cross on his face was unmistakable as he slowly approached from the treeline, the rifle she’d given him earlier in hand and the white cloth still wrapped around his arm.

Her hand went to the handle of her gun, jumping to it as soon as her mistake had sunk in, but hadn’t drawn it. Not yet.

“Ben, buddy,” she began, scowling, “I don’t know what you’re fucking playing at here, but I’d really appreciate it if you could level with me and fast.“

“Weapons on the ground,” The woman to Ben’s right snapped, her own cross tattoo carved onto her face.

“Easy,” Hana replied, but didn’t take her hand away. “Thought I was responding to a call for help. But if I’d known this was fucking Joe playing some sort of long game-“

“He’s not.”

That had her eyebrows rising. “No? So, you’re telling me these aren’t Peggies?”

They looked like Peggies. Were just as much them as Ben was and appeared to be, with nothing standing out to separate them from him. Only his word, as he slowly nodded.

Hana felt a bead of a sweat slide down the side of her forehead as her eyes skipped from person to person. “Well, you want to tell me why we aren’t getting the hell out of dodge then?”

“We are, but first -“ he held out his hand, “your weapon, deputy.”

“Ben, you don’t want to do this-”

“Your weapon.”

The cocking of a gun somewhere in the brush nearby was the final push. She pulled her red revolver out only to quickly toss it down by his feet. Her hands went up after.

Keeping his eyes on her, Ben crouched down to take the gun and aim it at her. One shot, one pull of the trigger, and she’d be gone.

Every muscle tensed, damn near quaking as she kept her hands up and her eyes on him. Could she get away? Move left, right, forward, back - fuck, anywhere? Just to move. To get out of the way, to do something.

But that debate stopped the minute Ben glanced back to those at his sides. Silent even now, whatever message he'd intended to send came through on their wavelength, one of the others beginning to step back and away from them. The woman followed, her weapon never wavering for a second, but eventually the trees grew too thick to see them through, and they faded from sight completely.

Soon only Ben was left. The gun was still locked onto her, the red metal glinting in what little light caught off of it and she didn’t dare take her eyes off of it.

At least she didn’t until he lowered it.

Hands up by her head still, she kept them there as she stared, knowing she’d have better luck reading a solid marble block than him, but as the silence stretched on she let them slowly drop. Let both rest by her sides, and kept them there even as her fingers twitched.

She hadn’t been able to read him well before. Even now she was fumbling to put a name to what exactly was crossing his face at this very moment, but when he bowed his head, it finally seemed to click.

“Thank you.”

The trees parted for him soon after, swallowing him up.

---

They were gone. All had vanished without a trace back into the woods where they had come from.

With Peggies soon to be swarming the area, they didn’t have time to weed them out or track them as they rushed to get out themselves, using the trees as cover. Hell, she’d barely touched down in the back of one of the trucks before ducking to avoid any stray bullets.

But the entire ride back she kicked herself. Over and over as her head swam and the faces of the group came back to her. Those with fear in their eyes, desperate, and those with weapons held high and aimed on her, with Ben right at the forefront.

So when they finally got back to town, she didn’t waste any time. Her feet hit the ground, taking her towards the Spread Eagle, her stomach churning with every step.

It’d taken some doing, but Hana maneuvered her way through the group out front to the back, and the minute she reached one of the empty stools, she all but threw herself onto it. Normally a bar stool was nowhere near comfortable, but here she was - stone cold sober and not even wanting to leave it for a second.

“That’s for you."

A bottle of Everclear hit the counter with a solid thud as Mary May placed it in front of her, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment at seeing it.

“Hell, watching you walk through that door in one piece’s earned you half of the entire fucking thing if you want it.”

A glass hit Hana’s hand and she cracked the bottle open in record time. “God, yes.”

“Good. Now could someone catch me up on what the fuck is going on?”

Mary May’s eyes jumped between the two, lingering first on her then Jerome, but quickly focused on her again.

Hana smacked her lips before she started filling the shot glass to the brim. “ You, uh, want the long or the short version?”

“The version that’ll explain wherever the hell you went for now, because after the disappearing act they pulled none of us thought we’d ever see you again.”

“I pissed John off again, no surprise,” Hana replied, her response half muffled by her drink. The shot burned, and after trying not to wheeze her way through it, she poured another. “Had who knows how many white vans carrying extra Peggies on the road waiting for me, and when I tried to stop one I thought had hostages in it, I uh-didn’t exactly win that fight.”

“…A set up.” Mary May swore under her breath. “He’s turned them all into a fucking setup.”

“It’s looking that way. But there was a Peggie. Ex-Peggie,” Hana said as Mary May’s eyebrows flew up. “He told me he wanted to help and-“

“And you actually believed him?”

“No. Not at first, but he-his word turned out to be solid. Seemed he wanted out, and didn’t seem interested in handing me over or hurting me all that much either.”

Hana paused. Pressed the cold glass against her neck, then the side of her head. Her eyes slipped closed as she focused in on it, and wished she’d had a bathtub full of ice instead.

“…So when he said that there were a hell of a lot of other Peggies wanting the same thing, we got them out. Went straight for Silver Lake’s Trailer Park, and the Pastor did the rest.”

“Fuck.” Mary May sighed and looked at Jerome. “Ex-Peggies?”

He nodded. “It hasn’t been the first time, and it won’t be the last. They’re scared. They were at the beginning, and many still are now. Not everyone joined Eden’s Gate willingly, and some are starting to find their own ways to leave.”

“Scared? Is that right?” Mary replied, her voice rising, “But they still made their own damn choice instead of pushing back. Helped them to bury the fucking knife in our backs and hand the county over to them!”

“I understand, but-“

“But nothing! Look, we’re having enough trouble keeping our own people safe without having to worry about them being grabbed out of their homes, and off of the goddamn roads. John’s got more vehicles out than ever, each of those goddamn vans working to capture us - and nevermind he damn near got her!”

Hana nearly choked on her drink when Mary May jabbed a finger at her.

“He had her in that van on the way to his fucking bunker, and where would we be then, huh? Where would she be?”

Jerome let his eyes slide closed. “I remember being led out into the street. From the church, down those steps, only to be placed on my knees as one of the People of Eden’s Gate held out Joseph’s Word. Spoke it to me.”

“Jerome-“

“And I remember clearly when further down the street in our home, she came. Sweeping through them with holy fire.” Slowly turning towards Hana, the gaze he leveled at her left her frozen in place. “I did not know her. Neither of us did, but once we saw her, we knew what she could be. And what she could be capable of. Without her, we would be worse off by far, and they know this. Both John and Joseph. If any of those people were still loyal to the Project, why would they willingly bring her back?”

Mary May frowned. “They clearly got something out of it.”

“Their own people, yes, but where is the deputy now?”

Glancing between the two, Hana didn’t move a muscle. Just watched, waiting.

“Right here. Here with us,” Jerome said, turning back towards Mary May. “There are defectors within Eden’s Gate. They did this, they brought her back.”

The look in Mary May’s eyes hardened. Held fast for a good long minute as she crossed her arms. “And?”

“And all they wanted in return was a way out. No more, no less."

Her lips settled into a thin line, pressed hard into each other as she kept her eyes on him. Holding the other's stare, they held their ground - so still, that after a few minutes, Hana decided that nothing short of the roof falling in would break the stalemate. But after what seemed like an eternity, Mary May sighed, the breath coming out in a huff as she reached for the stack of glasses sitting next to her. “…Fine. I’ll give you that, but I ain’t giving them anything else.”

That’s when Mary May finally looked her way again, and her expression softened as she reached out to rest a hand on Hana’s arm. “And as for you, you take as long as you need back here, got it?”

She nodded, and before she could get a single word out, Mary May was gone.

Trading a look with Jerome, Hana held the bottle out to him, and he took it. Filling up another glass, he topped hers off with a heavy pour, and she mentally added that to tally of things he’d never stop surprising her with.

“She’s right,” he eventually said, halfway through his drink. “You should rest while you can.”

This time the shot didn’t burn as much, but the cough she couldn’t quite muffle. “Pastor, I mean this with kindness, but fuck that.”

“Or slow down. Try it. We need you, but you’re human. Flesh and blood like the rest of us, and difficult as it is to believe, we all need a moment to rest. Take it.”

Hana opened her mouth again, but paused. Let it close for a beat before putting what was left of the Everclear into it. “One night. One.”

At the sight of her raised index finger, Jerome chuckled. “If that’s all you can spare, it’ll have to do.”

The two made their way out towards the front of the bar after that, mingling with the others. The mood now was nowhere near the kind she remembered on the night they brought the tankers in - tension and worry hanging in the air as she traded words with more than a few getting ready to head onto the next round of watch.

Someone passed her a beer, her thanks fading into the background noise of the bar, and she rubbed at the side of her face, and kept walking. Moved in a straight line towards the doors as the other voices faded out and she pushed forward.

The cold air hit her skin the minute she shoved the door open. She’d been warm before, her body temperature peaking due to the shots in the back, but no longer had it to cling to out here. Breathing in deep, her skin prickled as she held it, goosebumps rising fast before letting it all out in a long exhale.

That's when it kicked in again. The urge to move, her feet taking her along that path just past the Eagle down as far as she could reach. Past the house, down towards the fields, maybe. Out and far, far as her feet could carry her.

- At least that was her original plan, until she was swept off the ground, sputtering as the bottle flew out of her hand and the world whirled around her.

“Whoo-hoo, Deputy!” Hurk laughed, giving her a bear hug tight enough to cut her air supply off. “We were hoping and wishing and betting you’d be fine, and you’re looking finer than fine! You’re-“

“Suffocating! “ Hana patted his back, wheezing, “Hurk can you just - can you loosen that up hon?”

The spinning stopped even as her vision kept on dancing, and Sharky popped up in the edges of it, running up close to them as she felt Hurk move - whether to give him a fist bump or a high-five she couldn’t tell.

“Dude, you’ve got a choke hold on her that’d put any amigo out after a round! You might wanna loosen that up.”

“Oh! Oh shit, lemme fix that!“

Hurk set her down and the vice lifted, air whooshing back into her lungs quick enough to leave her a little lightheaded even without the alcohol’s help. She nearly stumbled over her own two feet, but once she was righted with Hurk’s help, he settled for giving her arm a friendly bump instead.

“It’s just real good to see you after losing you like that the other day, and I didn’t mean to choke you like that, Dep. Especially since it looks someone might’ve got in a head start on that too.”

“What do you…?” Aiming a strange look at him, his words didn’t click at first, but the memory of hands clamping down on her windpipe hit like a truck right after. “Jesus, uh- okay, so maybe someone tried to put the squeeze in on me earlier, but it’s - it was nothing.”

“Yeah, no, you see that right there?” Hurk tapped Sharky’s shoulder as both peered over at her. “That is a solid two-hander.”

Hana shook her head at him before turning towards Sharky, but he wasn’t grinning at her anymore. No, he was looking at her closely now, eyes tracing along that point below her chin, and her throat grew tight.

“Damn, H.” He whistled under his breath. “That’s no fucking joke.”

He was leaning solidly into her space now. Leaning far enough in for her to have to rock back to keep any distance between them, with the inches dwindling by the second.

“Shark, buddy. Seriously, I’m fine-ow!”

Something touched her neck, falling between a poke and a jab, and at her yelp, Sharky jumped back and held his hands up. “Aw geez, Dep! Sorry! Sorry, I was just-I mean it looked real sore, and I might’ve been gauging it to see if it needs patching or something, and-uh, wanted to see if it-“

“If it hurts?” she asked, holding a hand to the dully throbbing spot. “Well good news, hon! It hurts!”

She gave him a solid poke in the side. “Ow!”

Watching him rub furiously at the spot, she waited, then poked him again, and again. On the next Sharky caught her hands, his grip pretty dawn tight even as he kept on trying to dodge her.

“Ow, Dep! I get it! I get it!”

When she slowed down, he gave a quick huff of relief, and Hana shook her head. Lost all and any track of where she’d mentally been not even five minutes ago, and had to take a second to get it all back.

But when it sank its claws back in, she knew it. Felt that weight bring her right back down to earth, and lightly tugged her hands away from Sharky.

“Anyway, don’t think I’m not happy to see you guys. That’s not even close to true, not one bit, but -“ She paused, taking a moment to fish the discarded beer bottle off of the ground, studying the label. “I think I’m fucking toast, man. I might have to call a raincheck on any and all parties and afterparties going on right now.”

“Well shit, I uh...“ Hana glanced up as Sharky faltered, disappointment setting in, but a smile slipped in soon after. “Sure thing, shorty. You wanna sit down, kick back and take five or twenty, we got you. ‘Sides, we always pregame shit like this, so if you wanna get in on it later we’ll get you caught up.”

She’d started chewing on her lip again, and let it go. “Promise?”

“Hell yeah! Won’t even touch the high-proof, top shelf-type shit ‘til then.” He moved to slap her shoulder, but jerked to a stop and slapped Hurk’s instead. “Right, Hurky?”

“Ow!” Rubbing at the spot, Hurk glowered at him for a beat, but recovered fast. “That’s a tall order, cuz, but if we wanna wait, I guess we can work on a few party favors for the Peggies instead. Always wanted to try rigging one of those edible arrangements-type baskets, but we’d have to crash my mama’s house first for a decent melon baller.“

“Dude, just stuff ‘em full of cherry bombs, what do you wanna waste any of that for?”

“’Cause a fruit basket’s gotta have some fruit, and you can’t get any of those nice little round shapes without one,” Hurk replied, scratching his chin as he thought it over. “I know she’s got one in near-mint condition over yonder, just gotta get up there and see if we can score a couple of cantaloupes on the way too-“

Listening to the two, watching as Sharky stepped up to mime the arc of something being launched, Hana paused for a moment - watching his hands move as he mimed the arc of something being launched - before slipping away.

Sneaking off after being reunited again so soon was borderline shitty at best, but if she stuck around now she’d never be able to talk herself into leaving. The longer she stuck around the worse her company was bound to get, and as her thoughts started to fuzz around the edges, nothing would be better for it and the others than to just get somewhere as wide open and quiet as possible.

She’d been moving down the way and out before, but one glance upward towards the stars made up her mind for her.

Taking the path behind the autoshop, she found the one ladder sure enough, and took to climbing. Hoisting herself up one rung at a time, she just wanted to see the sky. To get a moment to look up past the clouds and see -

She froze at the top. Directly across from her posted right by the heavy machine gun was a familiar face. One she’d missed, but had seen flashes of throughout the day.

Grace’s eyes widened a hair as she focused on her, rifle slung on her back, and Hana immediately backpedaled. “Shit. Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t I’d - let me get out of your way.”

“You bring two?”

Hana stopped with one foot already on the lower rung of the ladder, and swayed as she nearly dropped the lone beer clutched in her grip.

Tilting her head, Grace gestured towards the spot next to her. "Could also use more eyes up here."

"...You sure? Might just end up picking up my slack more than anything else."

"Better up here than down there."

Hana turned towards the houses again. Towards the path she'd wandered out once before, bottle in hand and memories fuzzy, and shrugged off the feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

“Think you’re right about that. Just one problem, though.” She held up the beer up before extending it towards Grace. “Only came up here with one, and I owe you at least two for what you did earlier.”

It was nearly pitch black out, but she still caught it. The small smile that crossed Grace’s face and didn’t leave it. “It’ll do.”

---

The next day they all set out to regroup - to get back at some of the vans while also gathering supplies, and the first thing Hana does once she’s able to drag herself down from her perch with Grace is get an idea of where they’d been striking.

Reports mentioned Peggies picking off their people both to the east and the south - the van over by Sunrise a lucky shot in the dark for John’s people - while others had struck on the outskirts of the valley. Fall’s End was still the largest fortified free zone for their people to be in, but the roads weren’t theirs. Not yet.

So she had to work fast, at least now before they had a chance to throw them off further. She was still a target. Had lucked out somehow even after getting fucked over before, but didn’t even think about laying low now. It was her fault it’d gotten worse to begin with, and her mess to deal with.

With the guys on interference, gift baskets and all, it took some of the heat off, and as soon as a new report came in - another white van proving to be an ambush - she was back on the road rushing off to intercept it.

Burning rubber, she ran them down, making sure no one hit them alone, and held her breath with every screech of the tires and every thrown open door on the back of their vans. Every stop was a roll of the dice, and after a day of playing touch and go, she and a few others jerry-rigged their own van, piling in to tail the Peggies back to one of their drop off points.

The path wound north through the hills, taking them in a direction that this time she was able to follow. Peering over the driver’s seat from her spot in the back, she watched the construction yard come into view. Paths almost haphazardly circled the place, running rings around the building square in its center, as the dirt paths merged into the road leading onto the grounds.

An ATV roared past them, nearly clipping them on the way in, and judging from the trucks parked outside it was active as ever. Whatever they had been moving out before - supplies, people, weapons - they’d have a shot at now, and a quick radio call on their end helped make it clear that they wouldn’t have to deal with it alone for long.

Ducking back down, Hana passed some extra shells to Kat, and traded a quick look with Grace as she fiddled with her gear to get her rifle into place.

Grace had already been looking her way, skeptical for damn good reason, and seconds away from telling her to stay put. It would’ve been a rough order to follow if she had, one Hana would’ve been doomed to break, but Grace remained silent as the wheels slowed to a stop, her mouth set in a hard line.

There wasn’t much she could say in this moment to ease the pressure, but as the countdown in her head wound down to zero, Hana flashed her a wink. Then jumped to join the others in busting out of the back of the van.

Chaos erupted, the Peggies by the doors falling back only to go for their weapons as their group got into position. Hana threw herself behind a nearby pile of logs, and stayed down as a spray of bullets sent pieces of wood and bark flying. She’d lost sight of the others fast. Kat she’d figured would want to get in close and personal, her shotgun doing most of the talking for her, while Grace was nothing short of a ghost.

One blink and Hana lost sight of the red heart on the back of Grace’s uniform, but not even a moment later she spotted that light again. Faint and familiar, Grace's laser sight glinted briefly on the back of one of the Peggies before they fell, her shots almost too quick for Hana to keep up with.

More wood pelted her as she adjusted her position, and as a Peggie came up from the other side, she fired. Tried to aim best as she could, while holding her position.

"Five minutes out, we’ll be there in five!” the walkie by her side crackled, as words come through.

Five. Fuck.

“Deputy!”

Hana whipped her head towards the voice, trying to pick out the person speaking to her, and caught the Resistance member waving at her - Bryan, or was it Ryan? They hadn’t had a lot of time for intros in the van, but his ‘drop the bass’ shirt was tough to forget.

“We’ll cover you!” His cover wasn’t much better than hers, and he pointed towards the only main building in the yard.

He started firing, and the rain of wood chips above her slowed, then stopped. Chancing a quick peek out between what was left of the pile, Hana broke into a run before she could second-guess it.

And though there wasn’t much point, she started counting again. Ran straight through those numbers and across the dirt road as one became five, became fifteen, became thirty. Eventually the numbers blended right into the noise erupting around them, and as she reached the building in the center of the yard, she fought to get to that room tucked away inside of it. That small place that she’d make damn sure no one else was ever trapped in again.

Throwing herself into cover just past the entrance, Hana stopped to catch her breath as movement close by drew her attention to the floor. Right to the grenade rolling to a stop right by her feet.

Every hair on her shot straight up. Scrambling to move, she damn near slipped and fell as she fought to get away, and dove right back out.

Profanity zipping through her head on overdrive, it all skidded to a halt as the force hit. Flowing out, it was a wave of heat that set her nerves alight as she collided with a nearby crate. Vision swimming, she blinked and coughed, praying it’d settle only to get dragged up.

An arm looped around her neck, and she clamped down on it with her fingers as the pressure ramped up to cut off her air flow. She slammed herself back against the person holding her. Once, then twice, as a snarl slipped out, and the grip loosened, giving her just enough leeway to get away and - crack.

That close she couldn’t help but flinch as the shot took the Peggie down; her ears ringing slightly as she righted herself. But when she flashed a thumbs up in appreciation, across the way from her wasn’t Grace. Hell, it wasn’t even one of their people. It was -

A Peggie. The woman lowered her gun, and when Hana didn’t budge, she broke into a run, clearing out fast. Another Peggie stayed with her, keeping close behind as they disappeared into the trees.

Was that - were there more of them? One of Ben's?

A solid slap to her arm shook her out of it a moment later, one of the other Resistance members pulling her back to the present, but the questions lingered. Stayed in the back of her mind even as they cleared out the last few holdouts and finally broke into that back room.

Three people were huddled together on the other side of the door, all blindfolded, but unharmed. Relieved, she threw out as quick a greeting as she could manage before removing them and cut the zipties around their wrists after.

On Grace’s final all-clear of the area, they didn’t linger. They got the hell out fast, leaving Kat and the others to break down the rest of the yard and the gear the Peggies had been stashing there. But back at Fall’s End, she was back at square one again. Idle enough for the itch to move to set in, and for her mind to wander back to the questions running through it on repeat.

How many defectors were there? How many had there always been?

They had no real clue at this point, just word on the few that Jerome knew had reached out for help. But sometimes that was all you needed. A few people on the same wavelength, with a serious desire to raise hell.

And judging from what she’d seen over the last day or so, the few were starting to look like so much more than that.

The cigarette burned down between her lips as Hana stared down the street, and felt her heel start tapping against the floor. Posted at one of the rooftop watch stations, her eyes followed the few people that passed on by, and by the time she’d picked up on the voice coming through her radio, she’d graduated to the kind of tapping that would’ve had her mother placing a hand on her knee to still it.

“-ty? Deputy, are you there?”

Jerome. Her leg came to a quick stop. “Hey, Pastor. Everything okay?”

“Where are you right now, still nearby?”

“Yeah, I’m practically a stone’s throw from you, if you’re wondering. Why?”

“Do you remember what we spoke about earlier? About you, and those that brought you back?

She took one last draw on the cigarette, her grip tight on it. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Come on down to the church. They want to meet.”

#far cry 5 #deputy hana #sharky boshaw #pastor jerome #mary may fairgrave #grace armstrong #hurk drubman jr #fic: lighting the fuse #fic series: you'll be okay I promise #a few scenes refused to work for the longest time #and the added the time off really helped things come together in the end #let's see if I can keep it going this time around ;)

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adelaidedrubman · 4 months ago

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Working on my You’re Almost Like Family FC5 WIP (my “Seeds are stuck in a time loop” fic) and I can’t help but laugh when I look to how everyone else reacts to John whenever he goes back to the beginning of the time loop. Like the Seeds are all stuck in the same time loop (which restarts whenever one of them or Deputy Silva dies, despite Silva herself not being aware of the time loop), but they “wake up” at different times (essentially, John restarts to the moment the church doors close when Silva hauls Joseph off for the (destined to fail) arrest, Joseph restarts to after his siblings leave the compound, and Jacob & Faith restart as soon as they return to their respective bases, St. Francis and Faith’s Gate).

Hilariously (and unfortunately) John is the first in line to “wake up”/restart/remember, which leads to plenty of comedic moments as soon as John remembers, such as when he drops the F Bomb (because he JUST got Silva to believe in him about someone outside their respective faction’s deliberately trying to kill her and set up a temporary truce after many fatal trials and errors only for her head to get blown off in front of him and restarting weeks back to the start of the Reaping), or perhaps when he drops to his knees from a sudden pain that shouldn’t exist (after a particularly painful hit from either Silva or whoever else), and from Faith and Jacob’s POVs (at least before they get to their remember points), this is just out of nowhere, ranging from a confused “John wtf?” or an alarmed “John are you OK?!” responses.

There’s a lot of comedic (whether light or dark) moments the others go through as well, but poor John just goes through the most frustrations in this fic.

john having to go through the most frustrations is always correct and beautiful in any timeline. it’s what he deserves.

also that’s so amusingly fitting for him to have the curse of Realizing Things first but not coming off as anymore insightful to anyone else from it just getting an extra dose of “hey buddy what’s going on.” get time looped idiot

#he’s funny when he suffers. and the concept of individual wake up points is so interesting

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spookyspecterino · 2 years ago

Text

MASTERLIST

❤️ NSFW/18+ | 🧡 Mature Teens | 💛 SFW | My AO3

A Quiet Place: Day One

Eric x Reader

💛 "Focus on Me" | GN!Reader

You and Eric share a first kiss

💛 "Try To Live, For Me" | GN!Reader

You meet Eric on the boat. Getting attached is dangerous.

💛 "Together at the End of the World" | GN!Reader

You're stuck in the subway with Eric the day the asteroids hit.

Starfield - Sam Coe/Delgado

Starfield Masterlist

Bullet Train - Tangerine

Bullet Train Masterlist

Far Cry 5

Jacob Seed

❤️ "Out Hunting" | F! Reader

Jacob goes hunting, only to be followed by the deputy. Things don't go as planned, which might not be such a bad thing.

John Seed

🧡 "Unconditional" | GN! Reader

John is caught off-guard by a surprise visit from the deputy and they confess something he wasn't expecting. Will this be a turning point for him?

Stranger Things - Eddie Munson

❤️ "Distracted" | F! Reader

While in class, you and Eddie get to talking. Which quickly becomes something else when certain things come out...

❤️ "I'm With You Till the End" | F! Reader

When Eddie's trailer shows up on the morning news and cops come to your door asking if you've seen him, you panic and go looking for him.

Marvel - Stephen Strange

🧡 "Annoying" | GN! Reader

During an argument you let slip that you may have once had a crush on Stephen Strange, but Stephen doesn't reject you and some interesting things are revealed...

💛 "Is it Worth That?" | GN! Reader

When Stephen Strange tracks you down for practicing forbidden magic you are forced to make a crucial choice.

Encanto - Bruno Madrigal

💛 HeadCanons & A Few Short Blurbs | F! Reader

HeadCanons about Bruno's feelings for you. Blurbs are short stories about Bruno asking you out on a date and Bruno and you getting ready for Julieta's wedding.

💛 "Think About This, Before It's Too Late" | F! Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

When you've loved Bruno from afar for so long and he's never reciprocated, you think it's finally time to move on. But moving on isn't working and you're faced with a choice.

💛 "I'd Like a Vision, Please" | F! Reader

You go to Bruno for a vision, but what he shows you isn't what you expected. Trying to question The Seer only gets you more tangled up.

#masterlist

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strawberryscorner · 1 year ago

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Idk if you do requests or not but I love scrolling through your stuff.

I was wondering how would the seed brothers react if the deputy (M or F idc) had memory issues. To the point they carry a book around to write not important stuff.

(yes I was thinking about ranboo while having this idea) you can decide the severity of the memory issues. It could be mild where the deputy only forgets small stuff or bad where they forget everything. Like where do I live bad.

Hey, sorry it took a while to do this, but I hope you like it!

Joseph:

This man will pray for you and will have all these solutions. He will also be glued to your side.

You're looking in your notebook to figure out where you were going and why. He'll smile softly watching you, not wanting to tell you and stop you from figuring it out on your own. Sadly, you didn't put directions, "go to the church" wasn't as helpful to current you as past you thought it'd be. You sigh and bite your lip, looking up when you feel Joseph's arm sliding across your shoulders.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll get us there, and soon, you'll have your memory, we just have to complete two more trials." He says reassuringly.

"What trails?" You eye him suspiciously, the last one took more energy out of you than you would have liked.

"Nothing too hard, we'll know the details soon."

John:

John will probably go to his brother for help, he'll pray often and also take on more baptisms to perform.

"Just stay here, princess, I won't be long," he says, putting you on the sofa.

"Why can't I come with you?" You're confused, you usually go everywhere with him...Or...At least you think you do.

"I'll just be taking two peoples confessions then I'll be right back," he kisses your forehead and hands you a notebook. "Here, all the important and people if you need to go somewhere or need help."

You nod your head, you somewhat remember confessions and that he takes them. They don't take too long but if you're bored, you can go outside and sit by his plane and wait for him, then he'll take you on a ride and show you the county.

Jacob:

Unlike his brothers, he doesn't pray. He gets you to work, training will help your mind.

"Come on, you're faster than that," he smiles, running backwards as you try to keep up.

"We've been running forever, Jacob! I'm tired!"

"We're almost there."

"Where are we going?" You get no reply, just a cheeky grin and him turning to run facing the right way.

You keep running, though you're not sure how long you've ran for. When he finally stops, you're by a lake, the water is beautiful and there's fish swimming. He looks at you with a huge smile on your face.

"Remember anything, pup?"

You squint your eyes as you look around, partly from the sun and partly to force your brain to work.

"Kiss, we kissed for the first time," you stand on your tiptoes to look over his shoulder. "Right there!"

He laughs and picks you up, "Yeah, we did!"

You laugh, stopping just when your lips meet.

#far cry 5 fanfiction #john seed #jacob seed #joseph seed

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gnarpkurt · 9 months ago

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F/O & self insert list & tags. // bold = current main(s). — italics = uncomfortable/selective abt sharing. — anniversaries now included! :]

romantics.

#🦈🔥 — sharky boshaw. // far cry 5. // 02 . 01 . 24 #🌿🕊 — faith seed. // far cry 5. // 02 . 01 . 24 #🩹🫀 — deputy staci pratt. // far cry 5. // 09 . 01 . 24

#🐅🏝 — vaas montenegro. // far cry 3. // 23 . 03 . 24

#🦂🌹 — valeria garza. // call of duty: modern warfare ii. // ?? . 12 . 2023 #👑🖤 — könig. // call of duty. // 19 . 09 . 2024

#💜🎲 — eduardo "lalo" salamanca. // better call saul. // 20 . 04 . 2024 #🏜🪓 — marco & leonel salamanca. // breaking bad.

#🐑⛪️ — aziraphale. // good omens. // 05 . 09 . 2024 #🐍🍒 — crowley. // good omens. // 05 . 09 . 2024

#🥩🍷 — hannibal lecter. // nbc hannibal. // 21 . 06 . 2024

#🦴🗡 — dagur the deranged. // how to train your dragon. // 17 . 09 . 2024

#🧢🍸 — danielle stopframe. // moral orel. // ?? . 12 . 2023

queerplatonics.

#💙✒️ — john seed. // far cry 5. // 21 . 06 . 24

#🕰🐕 — will graham. // nbc hannibal. // 30 . 06 . 24

#🖥🧬 — allied mastercomputer. // i have no mouth and i must scream. // 17 . 05 . 2024

platonics.

#🐗💥 — hurk drubman jr. // far cry 5. #🏹🕷 — jess black. // far cry 5

#📌💸 — ignacio "nacho" varga. // better call saul.

#🍇☔️ — kieran. // pokémon scarlet/violet.

familials.

#🍎🛖 — ethan seed. // far cry new dawn. // son.

#⚜️♦️ — diego castillo. // far cry 6. // son.

#🏠🩺 — gregory house. // house m.d. // father figure. #🩻❤️‍🩹 — james wilson. // house m.d. // father figure by proxy.

crushes/potential f/os.

#×× — leshy. // cult of the lamb.

#×× — dark enchantress cookie. // cookie run kingdom. #×× — tarte tatin cookie. // cookie run kingdom.

#×× — alvie. // house m.d.

#×× — alexander lemtov. // eurovision song contest: the story of fire saga. // no, i do NOT support eurovision.

#×× — wyll. // baldur's gate 3. #×× — shadowheart. // baldur's gate 3.

#×× — ruffnut. // how to train your dragon.

self inserts.

#🏡🧸 — benjamin house. // house m.d.

#🌼🪖 — canary. // call of duty.

#🐏🧶 — deputy cain "rook" bishop. // far cry 5.

#💽⚡️ — harold pylon. // better call saul & breaking bad.

#🌾🍵 — hickory. // baldur's gate 3.

#🛼🪼 — poprocks. // pokémon scarlet/violet.

#🦑📜 — rayner bell. // how to train your dragon.

#🪶🍊 — wolfram wren. // nbc hannibal.

#kurt.txt

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darkdoverpseeker · 2 years ago

Note

{ 🎃🖤🔪 } — 23F looking for 20+ literate partners to write M/F or F/F from a variety of different fandoms !

While I do have mainly canon characters listed, I am open to writing with OCs, doubling, and multi-threading. Implied ships include the characters listed, but I’m more than open to hearing alternate muses and pairings that you have ideas for! I will warn that I may need pings and reminders if I need extra time due to life stressors + adulthood, but I am actively trying to improve on communication and appreciate your patience. ♥️ If I accidentally vanished on you last time, please feel free to reach out again!!!

. . . Jacob Seed OR John Seed OR Mary May Fairgrave OR f!Deputy OC • Far Cry 5

. . . Kylo Ren/Ben Solo OR Rey • Star Wars

. . . Pelle OR Dani Ardor • Midsommar

. . . Danny Johnson/Ghostface OR Amanda Young OR Kate Denson OR {misc.} • Dead By Daylight

. . . Michael Myers OR Corey Cunningham OR Laurie Strode OR Allyson Nelson • Halloween (‘78/‘18 or Rob Zombie)

. . . Otis Driftwood OR Baby Firefly • House of 1,000 Corpses (not a ship!)

If any muses catch your eye (or if you’d like to see if I’d be interested in a horror fandom or original horror plot you’ve been craving!) please like this post or DM my sideblog @enfika directly.

#oc x cc #f x f #m x f #1x1 rp #far cry rp #star wars rp #midsommar rp #dead by daylight rp #halloween rp #house of 1000 corpses rp #20+#literate rp #rp #roleplay

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findroleplay · 2 years ago

Note

{ 🎃🖤🔪 } — 23F looking for 20+ literate partners to write M/F or F/F from a variety of different fandoms !

. . . Jacob Seed OR John Seed OR Mary May Fairgrave OR f!Deputy OC • Far Cry 5

. . . Kylo Ren/Ben Solo OR Rey • Star Wars

. . . Pelle OR Dani Ardor • Midsommar

. . . Danny Johnson/Ghostface OR Amanda Young OR Kate Denson OR {misc.} • Dead By Daylight

. . . Michael Myers OR Corey Cunningham OR Laurie Strode OR Allyson Nelson • Halloween (‘78/‘18 or Rob Zombie)

. . . Otis Driftwood OR Baby Firefly • House of 1,000 Corpses (not a ship!)

#roleplay #rp #mxm rp #fxf rp #far cry 5 rp #star Wars rp #midsommar rp #dead by daylight rp #Halloween rp #house of 1000 corpses rp

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the-silver-chronicles · 2 years ago

Text

Whitehorse: "You're under arrest!"

Joseph, with his siblings staring dumbfoundedly at the 12-year-old girl in a little deputy's uniform, cuffs, and a badge to go with: "Is... Is that a child? Why do you have a child with you-?"

Whitehorse: "Junior Deputy Azriel here is one of my fiercest deputies who refuses to go off shift early and we're also low on numbers."

Joseph, internally: '...Is this the Hell that follows the Whitehorse and my future daughter?'

The other Seed siblings, internally: '...W T F?!'

Burke: "Junior Deputy Azriel is only serving out her community services. Don't let her adorable looks deceive you. She's committed several crimes of vandalism and arson. I found her fighting a raccoon in the trash. She curses like a sailor. She also bites."

Junior Deputy Azriel: "Yeah motherf***ers! >:D"

The Seed fam: "..."

The Voice, realising this is the reincarnation of Joseph's daughter coming back to wreck havoc on its plans and get revenge: "F**k, she's back."

[MUCH, MUCH, MUCH TIME LATER]

John: "She's destroyed my silos!"

Jacob: "She's stolen my Judges!"

Faith: "She's burned my Bliss crops!"

Joseph: "This is all part of the God's plan, she will join our family soon enough. Have faith-"

Jacob: "Joe, she's convinced half the flock that she's the next messiah."

Faith: "Father, she's vandalised your statue and giving out copies of her personal biography instead of your Word."

John: "Joseph, with all due respect, but she is the literal spawn of Satan. She has a personal vendetta against me. I don't think she believes in God either. And we legally can't take advantage of this because Azriel is technically apart of law enforcement."

Jacob: "We're losing a war to a child all because you told her she shouldn't swear."

Joseph: "...All part of the Voice's plan-!"

[Meanwhile the Resistance basically adopts Azriel. The GFH just roll with following this endearing and chaotic child leading the locals to victory. Eventually Eden's Gate and the Seed siblings convince Joseph to ask for a truce. The bombs don't happen because the Voice just gives up on trying to kill this child and peace's out of the universe. Azriel is officially everyone's daughter/sister. She continues to annoy John and swear to this day. A weirdly happy ending, indeed.]

Color me confused

Y'all I have a question...

I'm working on Brin's story and was looking into the title "Junior Deputy" when it comes to Sheriff's offices and their programs.

Now, one thing I found about an actual program for Junior Deputies says "Members must be United States Citizens that reside within (place of program), and are between the ages of 12 years and 18 years of age."

With that background info won't Dep/Rook be 18 at most? Because that certainly raises some questions (like why would Whitehorse make someone that would be considered an intern make such important arrest and so on)...

Or do we take the title as less literal and not grounded in reality? Like Ubisoft not looking into titles too much and meaning it as "a Deputy of the lowest rank". I always thought of it as the latter, but ... now I'm laughing at the visual of some poor kid whose "summer sheriff camp experience" went from 0 to 100 by being made to arrest some shirtless cult-y weirdo.

#lol #far cry 5 #crack fic idea #oc: azriel #seed family #hope county sheriffs department #the hope county resistance

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

Text

WITCHING HOUR, a sequel.

chapter one: genesis

word count: 5.8k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, religious blasphemy, cults amok, massively canon divergent (if you’re here then like...you know), body horror and horror in general, brainwashing, manipulation, you know the drill. john is himself, and thus: deserving of a warning. in this chapter specifically, brief mention, in passing, of mass suicide.

notes: hi friends! yes, i'm aware that this is a week early. i apologize. i wanted to get this chapter out while i had the thoughts in my head; not a lot of exciting stuff happens, most of it is just... setting things up for where we're going and where we're going to be, but i hope that you enjoy it nonetheless! thank you, of course, to my beta reader @starcrier; this chapter was in a lot rougher shape before she got to it. if you have the chance, please check out her writing--she is just absolutely incredible!

and thank you to everyone who did me the GREAT blessing of reviewing and supporting ancient names. i really can't believe i'm out here!! with people interested in what i have to say about this fucking nutso canon-divergent universe i am building! gosh i just hope y’all enjoy it. fun stuffs to come.

summary: —to fall like a wounded animal into a place that was meant for revelations.

there are many injustices that john seed will tolerate. the betrayal, and subsequent departure, of his wife and child is not one of them.

or: elliot honeysett just wants to live her life in quiet seclusion, and there's no way in hell that's happening.

“This is a very old story.”

It was cold, and dark, and the night stayed cloudy and moonless. As Helmi picked up the gun clasped between the two corpses, she glanced furtively in the brunette’s direction. Her gaze was impossible to read, the severe lines of her face accented only by the dim, flickering light of the neon sign; Kajsa had always looked like this, though, sharp like broken glass was, reflecting only and not taking anything in. Protected.

Helmi lifted her gaze back to the dead pair at her feet, up to the neon sign that blinked The Spread Eagle, and then down and stopping at the words written in dried blood on the paneling.

WRATH, DO YOU WANT TO BLOOM IN ME?

“You and me,” Kajsa murmured, and now it was her turn to watch. “Them. Eden’s Gate, and the Mother. All of it has happened before and will happen again.” She sighed, as though it troubled her, the dark arch of her brows pulling together to knit at the center of her forehead. With the only source of the light being the bar’s sign, her skin was an eerie, pallid red-and-blue, darting and worming across her expression. “We’ll turn this world into winter, Hel. The two of us.”

Helmi watched her for a long moment. “Kajsa—”

“Douse them.” She stuck her hands into the pockets of her sweater, turning and stepping over the two other dead bodies they had dragged from where they had been propped up against the wall. “I want this place in ashes by sunrise.”

“Yes.”

Kajsa didn’t wait for her to begin walking to the car, idling still a safe distance away. Helmi preferred it that way. For a few minutes—and that’s all it would take, really, to unlatch the canister lid and toss the gasoline over the bodies, against the paneling of the wall, atop the roof—she could turn her brain off, forget the way Kajsa’s eyes see straight through her, forget the bodies of her brothers and sisters as she tossed the match on them and watched the flame eat through the fuel.

Hungry. A beast. Like me, Helmi thought absently, as the flames licked at the sky, reaching reaching reaching. Watching them felt like watching the souls of her brothers and sisters reaching for the stars, carried away in wisps of foul-smelling smoke. She wondered, do they feel it now? Do they feel the sting, the burn? When their bodies haven’t been given to It, do they feel it all after?

“Come, Helmi,” Kajsa called from the car. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”

They had been at it for hours, this methodical and clinical extinguishing of bodies. Every spot that they had agreed and picked out on the map in such an instance was now blacked out. Burned. Their brothers and sisters had done what was expected of them, and for that, they would not be forced to rot—they would be turned to charcoal, to ash, only blood and bone spent.

Her feet carried her back to the car as the flames began to devour more than just flesh, crawling along the rooftop of the Spread Eagle and popping in the still, quiet night. Kajsa’s hand came up to her face and cradled her cheek, fixing her with those eyes: dark eyes, shades of gray and glassy, like a shark.

“Ingenting under solen är beständigt,” she said, the pad of her thumb brushing across Helmi’s cheekbone. For a second, the older woman almost looked like—well, looked like something, an unknown flicker of emotion crossing her face—but then it cleared.

Hel watched her curiously, waiting until the hand against her cheek dropped before she said, “I know, Kajsa.”

Kajsa nodded. Only once, short and brisk, the gesture as sharp as the lines of her face. “Make sure you do not forget.”

I won’t, Helmi thought, but did not say. Kajsa had never believed words before, and she would not start now. Helmi would just have to show her that she had not forgotten.

She looked back; the singeing of flesh fizzing in the air, the crackle of devouring flame whispering to her. A cleansing fire. Their bodies weren’t given to The Father, but they had given in another way, with their lives—in a way that still mattered.

“Kajsa,” Hel said, bringing the woman’s attention back to her, “do they feel it, still? The fire, when they’re gone?”

“Perhaps,” Kajsa replied, jaw absently working something wadded just in the hollow of her throat; words she wanted to say, and could not. Or would not. It was always hard to tell, with Kajsa. “It’s not for us to know. The after belongs only to the dead.” The dark-haired woman opened the driver’s side of the car, pulling her gloves off of her hands and tossing them inside. “Get in the car, Helmi. I want to keep track of that interloper.”

Interloper. The kinder of the words that what remained of them had been using for John Seed and his merry band of fuck-ups and patience-testers. Heretics, zealots, apostate—

The list was unending. Helmi wished she could run out of disdain, but she knew that she would not be able to. Sorrow and mourning for those they had lost came in absolutes, in fixed amounts, but the bitterness persisted. She swung into the passenger side of the car, shutting it against the smell of burning skin, and exhaled slowly through her nose.

Kajsa pulled the car away from the sight. Hopefully it would be just as the harbinger wished—by sunrise, Hope County would be leveled by fire and flame, nothing but ash and ruined structure left. If the scraps of Eden’s Gate didn’t try and douse it out. If they didn’t continue to interfere.

She glanced out the window to the sky. The tires of the car hit the highway, and Kajsa clicked the cruise control on, and as tendrils of smoke clung to the stars, the clouds parted and the light of the new moon filtered down. Just a sliver of her light, but cold and cruel and reliable all the same.

“It’s pleased,” Kajsa said lightly.

Hel made a low noise of agreement, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against the glass. “Are you?”

“Not yet,” the older woman murmured. When Hel glanced over at her, her eyes were fixed on the road; the headlights switched off, and in the far distance, she could see the tail lights of another vehicle glowing red as blood in the darkness. Seed, Hel thought through the haze of her exhaustion.

“But very soon, I will be.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One Week Later

“Are you warm enough? Where’s your scarf? Elliot?”

The door was only inches away, and yet—somehow—she’d managed to not make it out without the barrage of questions that typically accompanied any of her departures. Taking in a soft breath, Elliot closed her eyes for a moment, leaving her hand on the door handle.

“I am sufficiently bundled,” she promised, turning to regard her mother, standing in the foyer. “I don’t need a scarf between the front porch and the car.”

“Scarf, please,” her mother murmured, deigning to set her martini glass down in order to pluck it off of the coat rack. Elliot watched the movement curiously—not because she had never seen her mother set aside an alcoholic beverage before, but because these days it seemed more often than not that she was beginning to slow down on them; a thing which Elliot never thought she would see. Part of it might have been the sudden upheaval of having her grown, child-carrying daughter and dog suddenly move in with her, and part of it may have just been, well, time—but either way, she didn’t think she could ask.

There were some things that were just better left unsaid.

“Okay,” Elliot relented tiredly. “I’ll wear the scarf.”

“It’s not just about you anymore, bunny.”

“I know, mama.”

“So wear the scarf—”

“I am,” she insisted irritably, making a great show of flinging the scarf around her neck. I know it’s not just about me, something prickly inside of her said, I fucking know, it’s never been about me, and it’s especially not about me now.

Scarlet eyed her for a moment, wary. This had been happening a lot more now, too—these odd, lingering looks her mother had begun to favor her with. It was the same way Sheriff Whitehorse had looked at her, and the same way Burke had looked at her that last time before she—

Well.

Forcing her tone to lightness, Elliot said, “Happy?”

“Hardly,” her mother replied tartly. “No reason to be spending time around horses in your delicate condition. And you’ve been so irritable as of late—”

“It’s supposed to be good for anxiety.” Elliot glossed over the additional barb blithely, years of muscle-memory kicking in now.

“Getting some sleep would help your anxiety.” Jab, jab, duck, her mother’s tell-tale movements, skittering across their conversation like so many little spiders. It had been so long before this that she’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be engaging in a constant verbal battle with someone who was supposed to love her.

That wasn’t necessarily true, either. She had plenty of experience ducking and parrying verbal punches from someone who claimed to love her, as of late.

“I don’t—” Puffing out a sharp breath through her nose, Elliot passed a hand over her face. Sleep had not been her friend, not before and certainly not now. Too many strange, unnerving dreams about handsome, blue-eyed men with flowers blooming out of their eyes for her liking. “I’m not taking medication that’s not prescribed to me, mama. Sorry. But it’s like you said, it’s not just about me anymore. Right?”

Scarlet picked up her martini glass, waving her hand as she turned to head back into the living room where the fire still glowed warm and hungry in the hearth. Yes, there was nothing she would have preferred more than to give in to the despair and apathy welling up inside of her, curl up under the blankets in her bedroom, safe and tucked away in a perfect bubble; but she couldn’t, because stronger than that apathy was an uneasiness, anxiety that vibrated just under her skin.

Not safe, it told her, during the day when she was trying to relax and at night when she was trying to sleep. Not safe, not us.

That was the real gut-punch of the whole thing. Before, the paranoia, the anxiety, the hyper-sensitivity—they had all been things that served a purpose. Her body had been ready for constant assault because she had been under constant assault. But now? Now, she was in bumfuck-nowhere Georgia, with no bills to pay, no job to maintain, only one task: be healthy, for baby. Be happy, and healthy, and do it for baby, because that was her only responsibility. She could no longer function as a single autonomous unit because she was not, by all intents and purposes, a single. Autonomous. Unit. And yet?

And yet.

And yet, the off switch was broken, somewhere in her brain. Broken, or locked behind bars, or somewhere that she couldn’t reach it. Her brain still liked to think she was under constant assault. And if Scarlet’s verbal fencing skills were anything to go by, maybe it was a fair judgment of the situation.

“...standing there for?” Scarlet asked from the couch, her voice filtering in through some strange fuzziness that had erupted in her brain.

“Just—thinking,” Elliot managed, forcing a smile onto her face. She could tell it fell flat from the way her mother regarded her, but she cleared her throat quickly and glanced at Boomer, waiting patiently by the door. “You gonna take care of mama, Boomer?”

“He certainly will not.”

“Protect the homestead.”

“Elliot—”

“He can’t come with me to the barn,” Elliot informed her mother primly. “He’ll be well-behaved here, I promise.”

Her mother’s lips pressed into a thin line. It was something that couldn’t be argued, Boomer’s manners, and so finally she said, “Just don’t be gone long, then.”

Nodding, Elliot opened the front door and slipped out, keys clutched in her hands. The first snowfall of the winter had hit; it was still fresh and powdery, crunching underfoot, and by the time she was carefully pulling out of the driveway, she had nearly forgotten about the strange static fuzz rattling around in her head.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot lifts the glass of champagne to her mouth. Here, John can see the wedding band on her finger—gold and simple, for now. He’d promised her something nicer after things quieted down. She’d said, of course, that she didn’t need anything nicer; she was happy with the one she had. With him.

He thinks that she has never looked so beautiful, bathed in the romantic glow of fairy lights, hair pinned back and the white of the wedding dress dappling lace across her skin. And wearing the ring, of course.

I love you, he wants to say, but cannot. I love you so much, he wants to say, but does not; he watches her set the flute down on the table and he opens his mouth to say it. He has to tell her—she has to know, all of those things he had said, he didn’t mean them. He loves her. He has to tell her so that she can know.

John reaches for her and opens his mouth. She lets him take her face, lashes fluttering closed; when he tries to say it, when he wills the words out of his lungs, he is choking, choking, choking, the sickening scent of flowers rushing over him and he heaves.

The petals spill from his mouth. They tumble to the ground between them. You’re mine, he wants to say, I love you, but the petals choke him on their way out, billowing out from his lungs and tripping on their way out of him, blowing out in gorgeous baby-soft puffs that leave his throat shredded from the inside out.

His hands find her shoulders. He clutches her, because he can’t breathe—there are too many of them, these flowers, each labored attempt at breath making it worse. He’s choking, and Elliot grabs his face with her hands as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

She shoves her fingers into his mouth, packing the petals against the back of his throat, and he can’t breathe, and she says—

“I told you that you couldn’t have both.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John jolted awake, the sound of the alarm on his phone echoing in the tight space of his car. The dream lingered, stuck somewhere in the back of his throat and on his ribs like a heavy meal yet to be digested. It took a few blinks for him to really gather himself, remember where he was, who he was, what it was he had been doing. It felt like he could still taste the petals in his mouth.

Wicked devil, he thought tiredly, the image of Elliot looking down at him—wretched, and unyielding, as he choked to death—burned behind his eyelids. Even in my dreams, you’re ungrateful.

On his way out of Hope County, he’d dropped the Eden’s Gate truck for some poor shmuck’s sedan. It certainly wasn’t the kind of car he was used to driving in, and not for long periods of time, but he couldn’t risk a cop tagging his plates and finding out that the car was owned by him.

Not that he thought news of what had happened in Hope County had reached anyone yet. The government had their hands full as it was, he was sure—if the news on the radio had anything to say about it, anyway—so he imagined that the extraction of a few “criminals” out of Hope County, Montana had hit the backburner.

Passing a hand over his face tiredly, John tossed the book he’d fallen asleep reading onto the passenger seat and shut the alarm off on his phone. The book joined a collection of others, the titles including but not limited to Unconditional Parenting, The Whole-Brain Child, and other such riveting pieces, set to guide him along the path of parenthood.

He had been in Weyfield for three days; finding Elliot’s ancestral home hadn’t been hard, considering there were only a handful of houses that said rich by their exterior, and fewer less of those that looked to have been constructed so many years ago. In fact, the house that he had narrowed down looked the epitome of a wealthy Southerner’s ancient household; big front columns binding the two-story structure together, a sweeping front porch, and what he could only assume was a painstakingly-maintained garden when it wasn’t covered in a healthy foot of snow.

But more than that—more than the house, and the snow, and the stupid, shitty car he’d been living in for the last week—was Elliot.

His sleep schedule was fucked up because her sleep schedule was fucked up. He’d only caught glimpses of her through the windows, on occasion, and as much as he wanted to go charging into that house and demand she come back to Hope County with him, John knew he had to go about this very carefully. Elliot had willfully left him to be arrested, and she had willfully lied to him, and she had willfully and spitefully informed him of her pregnancy, and that meant that there were too many factors for him to think he could just breeze in and out. He was going to have to be diligent about everything—and that meant learning as much as he could before she figured out he was there.

It made him feel psychotic. It made him feel like a madman, but he supposed that was to be expected. That’s amore.

He had figured out precisely three things since his arrival in Weyfield: Elliot was staying with a woman he could only presume to be her mother, she had yet to make any friends, and she wasn’t sleeping. Every single night—or morning—she was up, moving around on the second floor and sometimes the first. It was nearly Christmas, now, which meant that she had to be at least nearly five weeks. What was she doing, up and about all hours of the night?

Now, watching Elliot haul herself into the jeep, bundled up and puffing hot air onto her hands, he thought, where are you going without the beast, huh? Haven’t seen you spend a second away from him.

John watched the car pull carefully out of the driveway and then head down the road. He’d been parked beneath the cover of a snowy row of cedars, the air inside as cold as outside by the time he’d woken out of his tenuous sleep. Now, as the sight of the dark Jeep disappeared down the residential lane and turned onto the street that would take her out to the country, he turned the key in the ignition.

The car came to life with a shuddering groan. It took a few tries to dig himself out of the fresh snowfall, tires skidding and the orange light reminding him—time and time again—that the tires were having a hard time. Thanks, you piece of shit, he thought tiredly, finally pulling out of the little ditch and setting off down the road. He let a few cars go ahead of him before he turned down the same street Elliot had, driving until the houses became fewer and fewer and it was more pastureland; three cars ahead, he saw Elliot pull down a long drive that wound for an eternity until a...barn?

A fucking stable?

“What the fuck,” he said under his breath, sighing. He should have known—of course she’d find some reason to spend her afternoon around stinking animals. Was that safe for her to be doing? Being around horses?

He pulled a slow u-turn and found a turn out at the top of the hill—close enough to see when she was leaving, but not close enough that he could be seen if she was pulling out. As soon as he shut the car off, the engine ticking as it cooled, John settled back against the seat and let out a long, suffering breath.

Well. He supposed that she should have been grateful she wasn’t leading a particularly exciting life, but he wouldn’t have minded something a little more exciting than this. Something more than staying holed up in her mother’s home—something which he was sure she did not enjoy, if the way she had spoken of her mother before had been any indication—or the occasional walk down the lane with the hound.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Once he felt confident he knew what was going on, once John had figured out what exactly he was up against when it came to fetching Elliot from this Stepford nightmare of a back-water-nobody-town, he’d get a couple of extra resources gathered and snag Elliot hook, line, and sinker.

But first, he would just have to wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was pretty easy to find a place that wanted someone to come and brush their horses for free. Elliot had called around to a few places at the behest of her doctor, who had been displeased when she explained no, she did not want to speak to a therapist, but yes, she would take the suggestion of seeking out other avenues of emotional healing.

I’m going to be frank with you, Miss Honeysett, the doctor had said, her voice stern, you can’t keep going the way you are. Stress is bad for babies, let alone post-traumatic stress.

Elliot had fervently nodded her head and explained that yes, she understood, and yes, she would make sure to find a place to relax and destress. And that was how she ended up here the first few times, and now standing in a stall, bringing a brush slowly over the shiny gold coat of a palomino that stood by idly while she fumbled herself through the motions. She had spent a lot of time around horses before, back when she was a kid—back when her grandfather still had his own little mini stable. After he’d died, the horses had of course been sold, even though Elliot had begged her mother to let her keep just one of them.

“They’re racehorses, Elliot, not show ponies,” her mother had snipped, all those years ago. “What are you going to do with a racehorse?”

Run, she’d thought then. Run and run and run, as far as he’ll take me, and we’ll camp out under the stars and then we’ll run some more until no one can find me ever again.

That had been a dream, of course. Now she only had her two legs to carry her wherever she wanted to go, and they had served her pretty well.

“Been around horses before?” someone asked lightly from the stall door. “Before the last couple of times you’ve been here, I mean.”

Elliot’s gaze flickered, snapped out of her thoughts—out of that girl she had been so many years ago—and landed on the same young woman that had gone through all of her paperwork and given her the run-down. Her name was...Sarah? No, it was something else. Something with an S. She was pretty; dark honey-blonde hair swept up into a ponytail, her face pretty enough to be woman and round enough to make that woman look angelic.

“A long time ago,” Elliot admitted sheepishly, her fingers braided into the palomino’s mane as she worked the kinks out of it. “When I was little.”

“Ah,” the woman said, smiling. “It’s sort of like riding a bicycle. How come you aren’t riding?”

“My doctor said not to.” She paused, because that sounded suspicious, and then said, “And anyway, I’d be making a fool out of myself.”

“Everyone makes a fool out of themselves the first time around, even after a long time. But of course, we want you safe,” the blonde replied somberly, but a smile still ticked the corners of her mouth. When she shifted, Elliot could see that her name tag said Sylvia W. “Hey, you’re Honeysett’s kid, aren’t you?”

Ellliot stifled a groan. She had made it through precisely two interactions without someone bringing up her mother in the entire time that she’d been back in Weyfield, and she had been hoping to make this a third. Glancing over at Sylvia’s curious expression, Elliot managed out as politely as she could, “Yes, that’s me.”

“Your mama called,” Sylvia explained amusedly. “Wanted to make sure you got here without problems.”

I’m twenty-six. “Ugh.”

“It’s cute, but she’s...” Sylvia’s gaze flickered while she tried to come up with a word. And then: “Strong.”

A quick, sharp laugh billowed out of her, unexpected, because the idea of someone calling her mother strong was absurd—not because she wasn’t, but because so many other words came to mind before the word ‘strong’ did. Elliot stifled the second laugh that tried to bubble up out of her, and Sylvia grinned.

“Take it that’s not the first impression people get of your mama?”

“No, Sylvia, it certainly is not.”

“Via is fine,” the blonde corrected, not unkindly. After a second, of quiet introspection, she continued, “If you ever wanna get out of your house, my brother and I go to that bar in town—you know, the uh.... Wild Rose? They do trivia night every Thursday. Winner gets fifty bucks.”

“Wow,” Elliot said without thinking, “a whole fifty dollars? To split between the three of us, huh?”

Via flashed a grin. “I knew you had a sense of humor.”

The words caught something funny in her chest, hooking into her all of a sudden. Reminding her that once, she had been funny—once, she’d had friends. Once, she’d had this kind of rapport with—

Shut the fuck up, she thought to herself, viciously, if you wallow every time you think about that fuckface you’re never going to get anywhere.

“So?” Via prompted. “What do you think? Want to be our third?”

“I’m—that’s really nice of you,” Elliot managed out. “I think this week I’ll have to pass. If you think my mama’s strong over the phone, just imagine her in person and five drinks in.”

The blonde grimaced. “Fair enough. But, invite’s always extended, alright?”

“Thanks, Sy—Via.” Elliot corrected herself, earning a quick, playful wink from Sylvia before she disappeared down the hall to resume her duties. She finished brushing the old brute; on occasion he’d twist his head back to bump the dark velvet of his nose against her side, reminding her that he was there and appreciated her.

She finished up the last of the brushing and then dumped her things in the bucket before she carried it out. The last few times she had been here had passed in much the same way—and now that she thought about it, hadn’t Via offered the trivia night thing to her before? Or was she just imagining things?

“Need sleep,” she murmured to no one in particular, depositing her bucket and brushing her hands against her jeans before sliding her coat on. When she had signed herself out on the sheet and stepped out into the late afternoon, the sun had already gone down; it left the world terribly blue, the sky blue and the snow blue-tinted, like someone had slapped a dim neon light over the sun.

Elliot puffed a hot breath of air out, fishing around for her keys and unlocking the car. As her gaze swept absently over the landscape, she spotted a car parked at a pull-out just up the hill. From where she was, it was hard to see—perhaps nearly impossible—and she wouldn’t have noticed if—

If she wasn’t so concerned about seeing a face that was too familiar. Burke, even, would be an unwelcome addition to her life in Weyfield. She tried to stuff down her paranoia; someone was surely just parked while they were sending a text, or making a phone call, or...

Or, they’re watching you, something inside of her said. She ducked into the driver’s side of the car, cranking the heater, but no amount of hot air washed the voice away. Maybe they’re watching you and waiting to arrest you. Or, maybe it’s—

But it couldn’t be. Because the Seeds were in Federal custody, and that meant they weren’t her problem anymore.

Elliot pulled out of the yard, and then carefully onto the highway, checking her mirror every now and then as she drove the short distance home. Just to be sure. Just to be safe. Someone else pulled out of the stable yard, behind her, and then cresting over the hill came a car that might have been the same one that was parked, and maybe wasn’t, because she hadn’t been able to see the make and model, but if it was, then she would have to make some extra turns on her way home, and...

“No,” she said, firmly. “It’s no one. It’s nothing. Just traffic. Other people live here too, you idiot.”

The remainder of the drive was spent forcing herself to keep her eyes on the road and only checking her mirrors when polite driving protocol called for it. After all of that fussing she’d done, she was the only one pulling down the road to her house, and even when she waited in the driveway for a few minutes, nobody followed. No headlights. No strange, dark cars. No monsters to haunt the corners of her vision.

“You’re late,” her mother called from the kitchen when she stepped inside, shaking the snow out of her hair and shrugging out of her coat.

“Traffic,” Elliot lied without thinking. God, had she always been such a wretched liar? Surely not, right? “Smells good, mama.”

“I should hope so. I slaved over it.”

Elliotshot her mother a dry look, taking a bowl out of the cupboard and beginning to scoop the stew Scarlet had made into it. Boomer waited patiently in the doorway of the kitchen—no dogs allowed rule vehemently obeyed—and when Elliot picked two pieces of bread out of the basket on the counter, still warm, her mother said, “How were the horses?”

She paused in the doorway. The stairs to the second floor, and the subsequent peace and quiet, were just there. “Good,” she replied after a moment, inching toward the doorway. “Polite. I—made a friend.”

Scarlet looked up from the book she’d been reading, eyes narrowing. “A horse friend?”

“No, a—a person!”

“Mm.” Scarlet looked back at her book. “Just be careful who you associate with, Elli, you never know who has a reputation here.”

“But you do.” Elliot’s foot hit the first bottom stair. “I’m relying on you to watch my back. Thank you for dinner.”

Before her mother could ask her where she thought she was going—“Taking food up to your room, Elliot? What are you, nine?”—she had fled up them, Boomer trailing after her until she had the bedroom door safely closed and locked with a breath of relief sweeping out of her. Every interaction was like that; wondering if she was going to make a misstep, drag herself into an argument that she didn’t want to have and which she would only be able to escape if she acquiesced and admitted that her mother was right.

Splitting one of the pieces of bread in half, she tossed it to Boomer and kicked her shoes off. He chomped happily, tail brushing against the floor. Elliot ate her dinner with the dim, low volume of the TV playing in the background, until half of her soup was gone and she had curled up under the blankets. It wasn’t until the Heeler burrowed into the blankets next to her, pressed against her side, that she finally felt the dredges of exhaustion begin to pull at her.

The sleeping pills her mother had given to her sat on her bedside table, still untouched. I don’t need them, she thought, shutting the tv off and the lights with it. I don’t need them to sleep.

I’m just fine.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Night fell heavy, quiet and cold. By the time the late hours had passed and early morning was beginning to roll around—the kind of early where the world still slept—Elliot found herself standing in the hallway.

She blinked tiredly. She was still in her jeans; she’d neglected to change. Her hands were on the banister, and below her the living room stretched, long and only dimly lit, effused by the glow of the night lights peppered throughout the house. How did she get here? Had she slept walk? What had woken her?

Slowly, and then all at once, the sound of static drifting from the cracked door of her bedroom registered in her brain. The television was on; that must have been what had woken her. Elliot stood for a minute longer, trying to collect herself, trying to see if she was still dreaming, and then pushed the door to her bedroom open.

Boomer was snoozing quietly on the bed still. The telvision’s channel flickered static once, twice, and when Elliot reached for the remote, the static flipped again and the screen went black.

Not powered-off black. Just—a black screen, still backlit, empty.

White text blinked onto the screen.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot felt her stomach flip. The text blinked out, and then blinked back on, and then stayed. Her heart thudded aggressively against her rib cage, demanding—out out out, it said, desperate for a reprieve from this sudden chill spilling down her spine. She reached blindly, no longer sure where the remote was, when the text blinked again.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

No, she thought furiously, even though she knew it wasn’t true and that it didn’t matter. Whatever kind of strange late-night programming this was—and that’s what it had to be—wasn’t going to give her a response and certainly wasn’t waiting for one. She would just need to—

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

Elliot’s fingers gripped the remote and she pressed her finger feverishly, missing the power button once, twice, and then a third time before she finally hit it and the television clicked off. Her hands were shaking; her whole body was shaking, and she quickly crawled back under the covers until Boomer was whuffling, tired and inquisitive, against her face. Her fingers knotted in his fur and she closed her eyes tight.

Even when they were closed, she saw the words, burned behind her eyelids. The inner strength to stay like that only lasted for another few minutes before she grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills and took one, swallowing it down dry and then dropping the container back on to her nightstand.

She would sleep. She would sleep, and forget about the strange commercial, and she would get her fucking life together.

In the morning. After sleep.

No strange dreams, she thought, not for me.

Not anymore.

#fic: witching hour #my writing #far cry 5 fic #john seed/f!deputy #fc5 fic #john seed x f!deputy #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #i really do be out here dropping the first chap a week ahead of schedule #i'm sorry #my posting is unreliable #i can never stick to a schedule #pls forgive me #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy

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seedofjoseph · 2 years ago

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JUST SAY YES

It took me all evening to draw those ropes, so I gave up on the ones that should've kept her thighs spread.

I have improved since I had Jacob hog-tie my self-insert though: link.

#far cry 5 #john seed #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #it's just john seed x someone who has the same cup size as me but is so much smaller #seriously #why do they keep casting pocked sized p*ssies in these m/f videos #?#she posed for me #so I'm thankful for that #anyway #I don't know if this will be a series #but I bet faith would love to put flowers in between those knots #and turn you into one of her altars #fanart #my art

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felassanis · 3 years ago

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John Seed x F!Deputy: Sinner and Sinner

As John is shot down from his plane. He makes his escape into Hope County’s woods; The Deputy hot on his trail. But even as the Deputy finds herself with John right where she wants him...she hesitates...

Warnings: Mature content. Depictions of Violence. Swearing. Nothing too NSFW

Read on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40426464

John didn’t have Jacob’s skills when it came to navigating the dense forests of Hope County. Especially at night. To him, every tree looked the same, no rock discerning in its shape, no bush unique in its growth. He might as well have been a headless chicken running deeper in the shrubbery. But he had little choice than to throw himself into the unknown. For the Deputy was hot on his trail.

He thought she must be a fucking bloodhound sent from hell. Sniffing out his blood which seeped like wine from his damaged side after she had shot him out of his plane. He’d sharply turn bends and zig-zag between the trees. Dodge over small hills and race through bushes, tearing his clothes even more than they were. Just to escape her fiery gaze if nothing else, which surged a strange fear into his heart like nothing he had felt before.

Yet every time he dared turn to look over his shoulder she was there. Dogging him. The devil on his shoulder.

His breathing was coming rapidly now. By no means was he an unfit man. But the Deputy seemed to be tapping into his energy. Gaining speed while he only lagged like a wounded deer. He cursed under his breath, trying to scramble up a steep hill on his hands. Fingers curling around a root that stuck out from the earth. Pulling himself up…

Then the branch gave away. Sending him falling on his back.

The Deputy doesn’t give him a second to sit up. Throwing herself on top of him John just barely catches her wrist before her knife can come down on his neck.

“Just fucking!-” She seethes, snarling as she pushes all of her weight down on him. The tip of her switchblade coming close enough that John feels the cold steel when he swallowed.

They’re snarling at each other. Like wolves snapping for the other’s throat as they writhe against the dirt. John no longer sees the women he had trapped in his bunker, no…that seemed like so long ago now when compared to the snarling beast sat above him. As if both gender and humanity had been stripped away paving the way only for a cornered animal desperate to clamp shut the snapping maws of her predator forever.

The knife tugs lower to the point blood draws. John squirms wildly. Struck in panic at the sheer strength of this woman. She wasn’t weak, but as John grinded his teeth and struggled against her, it was like something else was fueling her.

John wondered naively for a split second, if it might’ve even been God’s strength. If perhaps God was aiding her against him. Until strangely, her strength wanes all of a sudden.

He takes the opportunity to snatch her wrist away from his throat. Taking the risk and hissing as the knife cuts a small, shallow line across his pulse. Throwing her off him, the two struggle for the knife. Rising to their feet, John throws his weight into her and slams her against a tree repeatedly with his shoulder. Until finally the knife comes free from her fingers. And she rips herself away from him.

He becomes giddy then at the switch of power. That throbbing that spilled into his urges came back in full fruition as he rounded on the Deputy. And the power comes crumbling down like wet paper as her knife is now replaced with a handgun. Aimed and loaded.

“Ah,” John’s lips spread into a gleeful smile. “Now, now, Deputy. In what world is this a fair fight?”

“Shut the fuck up, John,” She shakes the gun at him. “Just shut the fuck up,”

She’s a sight like this, John won’t deny himself the mere fact. Blonde hair trussed and tousled, the edges clinging to her sweat-slicked skin as grass stains and tears dog her clothes. The sounds of her ragged breath so tantalising he’s almost tempted to press himself against her to hear them better. Even on the brink of ruining him she’s beautiful. Impossibly and sinfully beautiful.

John watches as her finger is pressed against the trigger. A hair’s breadth from launching him into oblivion. Yet somehow, she can’t find the strength nor the conviction to act on it. Instead she stares at him angrily, chest heaving as the cut on her cheek bleeds down towards her jawline.

He holds himself back from springing into action. Wary that one wrong breath will fade whatever hesitation had suddenly clung to her heart. But also…curious. Curious as to why she stops now, when the end to this cat and mouse hangs in the balance of one shot. It’s what she’s always wanted, isn’t it? To end their little game. To convince herself that she is right. So why the hesitation now?

His smile then falters the longer they stew in uncertain silence. Wondering where this was going as he held her knife tightly. Was this some sort of ploy of hers to get his guard down. It wouldn’t work if it was, he knows better now than to underestimate this creature. All their scuffles had ended in the same fashion, they came to blows only for one of them to get away. Lick their wounds until the next round. At least, that is how they normally ended.

The air is different this time. It hangs like rolling thunder above their heads. which one of them will get struck however… John can’t seem to predict.

The deputy lets out a groan, holding the gun up higher as if its weight was starting to get to her. It’s then he notices that she’s shaking.

“Why is this so fucking difficult!?”

John blinks. “Come again, Deputy?”

She lowers the gun ever slightly, much to his surprise. Staring at him like he might hold all the answers but he won’t sit still long enough for her to decipher it.

“What is it about you? Why you?”

John ponders not the question, but his own traitorous heart for skipping at the way she asks.

But the question is not for him, no. It seems she speaks of her own bewilderment to herself. Berating her own lack of action.

“Perhaps it’s because you know Joseph is right. Deep down in that black heart of yours,” John offers an answer. “You hesitate now because you’re unsure,”

She shakes her head. “No, your sick cunt of a brother isn’t right. I’m under no illusion that he is, or ever will be,” The gun raises a bit higher. Defying him. “I didn’t hesitate with Faith. And I definitely didn’t hesitate with Jacob,”

John steels himself against the names of his brother and sister. Trying to ignore the burning anger at her even having the audacity to utter their names to him.

“It’s you. It’s just fucking you. I can’t…”

The genuine conflict on her face is alarming. He can't tell if she is about to round the gun on herself, or put the mystery to rest by planting a bullet between his eyes.

“Well, I certainly won’t complain at your inability…” John takes one long stride towards her, wasting no more time. One hand grabbed at the back of her head roughly, the other pressed her knife to her throat. Mimicking the way she had him earlier, twisting the point ever slightly against her pulse. “When it certainly makes it easier for me,”

It would be so easy, he thinks to himself. End her here and now and suffer Joseph’s consequences later. She’s caused so much strife in this land, this one lone woman. Created so much rampant sin in a County that had been better off without her. Even as he feels her handgun push into his waist, ever so slightly twisting into his still bleeding wound, he relents. The knife would be lodged into her throat long before she had the chance to pull the trigger.

To his annoyance, her face is impassive and flat. Unbothered by the knife pressed against her throat. Almost as if she had predicted he would do that.

“You can’t do it either,”

Something roils beneath John’s skin at her accusation. “Oh? Can’t I?”

“No. You’ve had so many fucking opportunties, John. You had me tied down for God’s sake and you still drew it out,”

She raises her chin like she’s won the argument. Giving John a perfect view of her neck. She swallows against the knife, her throat bobbing against the tip in a nearly explicit fashion. John absentmindedly licks his lips at the sight.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself, Wrath” He says, Truly in awe if this was the hill she was willing to die on. Quite literally.

The grin that tore across his face when he says her exposeful little nickname was terrifying. Eyes dipping to the collar of her shirt, their angle allowed him the faintest glimpse of the sharp ‘W’ he had tattooed across her chest. Poking through the unbuttoned shirt.

He looks up into her eyes. “I believed you needed to be absolved. I truly believed the gates of Eden could be opened to you, if only I could get you to say yes. But you’ve proven yourself to be beyond atonement,”

“I think I proved that the day I killed your siblings,”

He grips her hair tightly, winding his fingers through the blonde curls enough to pull at her scalp, causing her to hiss in pain. She was intentionally winding him up, goading him, taunting him. Did she seek death, or was she truly and wholeheartedly sure he would not kill her like a dog no matter how much she pushed him?

“Indeed. Yet I take no joy in killing you, Deputy. But it must be done. You cling to your sin of wrath like your life depends on it. My family will never heal so long as you are around. So long as you keep inflicting pain and misery into the hearts of the faithful,” He tells her, keeping his gaze fixed on her eyes.

“I don’t think you ever convinced yourself I would atone, John,”

A wind whips through the trees, sending goosebumps down his flesh. He doesn’t say anything, searching her eyes for…something.

She takes in his silence, biting the inside of her cheek before she continues. “Do you remember when you baptised me? You held me under. Again and again till I thought you were going to drown me. You wanted me to suffer for the same reasons I want you to suffer,”

He tilts his head. Waiting for her to finish, a sense of dread claiming his body

“You feel something for me. And you can’t fucking stand it,”

John’s mind stutters. Quickly grasping for a response, or the inhibitors to make himself burst out laughing to shrug off her accusation. It was such a ridiculous thing to say and yet there is no humour to be found in her words. Only the truth.

He feels a sudden need to crawl out of own skin.

“You think a sinner like you is worthy of love? My love?” He seethes, pushing the hateful words out through a wall of clenched teeth. “You think I could ever care for the likes of you? How adorable, Deputy,”

“I don’t need to think about it. I know,”

“You know nothing about me,”

“Then kill me. Prove me the fuck wrong,”

It’s then she leans in, readily resting her throat against the blade as a willing sacrifice. So readily John inches away at first.

It would take but one little push, one little push to watch the light fade from her stoney gaze.

John sucks in a sharp breath, clearly audible. And she smiles in triumph. A sickly sweet smile he wanted to carve off her face right then and there. In fact, he should have, that smile was a sin in itself. He should have driven that knife straight into her pretty little neck and be done with it. But his muscles tenses, hands growing wet with sweat and he couldn’t. He couldn’t move.

“I should put you down like the mad-dog you are,” She starts. Voice but a whisper. “It would be a mercy honestly. Because when I’m done with Joseph, and I will get to Joseph, I have no clue how you’re gonna be with no one holding your goddamn leash,”

His own voice betrays him, coming out as a hushed whisper instead of the ferocity he wanted muster so he could push her away.

But it was like whatever had be said next had to be hidden. Kept even from God himself.

“But you can’t…” He confirms. Watching as her eyes search his face, her mouth opening and closing around failed words.

The air around them is heavy, intimate. He feels like he’s suffocating against her silence. He needed to hear it from her. See her lips wraps around the confession.

And then the sound of her gun crashing to the floor seals it.

“Like I said…I want you to suffer for the same reason you want me to suffer,”

They stew in thick silence for a moment. Both of them taking it all in. John feels his heart racing to the point he’s certain she can hear it.

Not so long ago they were fighting. Trying to kill each other. Or had they been? Was it just an excuse to engage with her? Explore the depths of her emotions, even if that emotion was anger, just for the excuse of knowing her. John feels like he’s been dangling on the leash of his own longing; his need growing teeth ever since he first laid eyes on her. They were enemies but by God they were so much more. Possibility burning like the wick of a candle where one of them could blow it out in an instant. Delve into the dark like this had never happened. And yet neither one could so much as breathe around the flame…

All his life he’s known one thing; pain. It had been conditioned into him since his earliest memory. He'd never known comfort, or know hands that didn't want to harm him. So what she stoked in him…it was unfamiliar. It was terrifying. It was something that could ruin him, and he knew that he’d let it. He’d let a sinner into a part of his heart he believed had died a long time ago. And he hated himself for it.

From the point she had first stoked his longing, he had wanted to make her pay for it. Punish her for undoing all the years of hardening. Force her to scream and flinch at his own inability at keeping her out of his thoughts. For she inhabited them like a demon plaguing his mind. Festering with explicit ideas of what they could be if only…

John would never be free of her until she lay dead. And a small part of him had hoped Jacob or Faith would accomplish it. So he would not have to.

He wanted her gone as much as he obsessed over their little game of cat and mouse. Swallowing every second of her presence that he could. He wanted her to writhe and wail as much as he wanted her screaming and panting beneath him. The feeling of her skin against his, willingly.

“Say something for fuck’s sake,” She begs, and at this point he realises she’s leaned her head forward and toward him. Till their foreheads almost touch. The ghost of her breath haunting his lips, pulling gospel of his feelings for her from his throat…

The knife was long gone. His grip on her hair now rested on the side of her neck, his thumb grazing across the patch of skin he had held the knife up to.

She was on fire, her pulse vibrating beneath his gentle touch for she was as much as mess as he was. Her breathing ragged and harsh and he didn't know if she was terrified or stumbling under his touch.

"John…"

John doesn’t speak. For he does not need to. What little distance had remained between them is absolved by the crash of his lips against hers.

Their kiss is a slow attempt of gentleness between two people who have never known the word. For the first time in his life John handles a person with care; cupping her face with hands that have killed and tortured. And yet she brings her own to hold them in place, disregarding their history and pressing them against her bruised and cut face like they could heal her.

Charlie tilted her head to the side to brush her lips against his with more fervour. More feeling. Then one hand comes to graze the 'Sloth' scar across his chest, and he gasps against her mouth. Her cold fingers grazed across sensitive strips of flesh, charting every ragged cut and haphazard tear. Navigating with such careful trails that he licks at her bottom lip. Getting her to open her mouth for him to explore her with his tongue. Eliciting the most wonderful moan from her that he swallows eagerly.

She is warm, so unbelievably warm as she pressed herself against him. Chest to chest their hearts hammer like a symphony as he laps at her lips. Drinking her with the fervour of a man starved of affection. John hadn't realised, he hadn't wanted to realise, how whole the feeling of her touch made him.

There had never been unity within him. He was an abhorrent amalgamation of violent urges and aggression unspent. But with Charlie…it is like he is drowning in sunlight.

Her hand trails upwards. Fingers dancing flames into his skin. Then they curl around his necklace…

And pull.

John snaps his eyes open to Charlie pushing him away and onto his back, eliciting a shout as his waist burns in agony from the sudden impact.

She looms over him, the key to his bunker swinging from her palm like Joseph's cross. A mix of grief and anger stricken on her features.

"Get out of here, John," She urges him.

"You-" he goes to stand up. Fully intent on throttling her, before her boot hammers home on his chest. Keeping him pinned on his back.

"No, I mean it. Get out of here, please for the love of fucking God just get out of Hope,"

John shakes his head. "You know I can't do that,"

"Yes you can. And you have to-"

"Or you'll kill me?"

Her lips press into a thin line. "I am getting Hudson. And then I'm going after Joseph. There is no other way this is going to end…but you…it can be different for you,"

John's face contorts in ugly fury as he withholds the urge to wipe his still wet lips with the back of his hand. How could she use this between them to steal his key? Manipulate him into thinking this was something real, that this had not been some sinful fantasy he made up in his head. How could she make him feel like this for the first time and stomp on his heart?

And why, for the love of fucking God, did he just want her to keep kissing him. To talk about this. To solve this.

“You can’t kill Joseph, God won’t let you,” He grunts, trying to remove her foot off him.

She scoffs, “God will have to get in fucking line if he thinks he can stop me,”

“Charlie-” She visibly flinches at her name. John quells the hurt that reaction made him feel, and wraps his hand around her ankle. “Even if I went along with your insanity. You think your little friends in the resistance will just let me walk free?” He barks out a laugh at the thought of walking amongst such sinners.

“I’ll talk to them-”

“You can’t reason with fucking animals!”

“Your cult are the animals, John! The things the peggies have done. What you’ve done!-”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” He sneers, digging his nails into the skin of her ankle. Drawing bloody crescents. He had honestly thought her better than this. Amidst her clusterfuck of sins, he thought blatant hypocrisy was at least absent. “You’re prepared to let me go, so that I can..what? Atone for what I’ve done by your morals? Why wasn’t this deal offered to Jacob? To Faith? Why were they cut down but I am granted an ultimatum?”

She rips her foot away from him. Quickly grabbing her handgun from off the ground, once again separating them by the end of a barrel.

"Because…"

"Tell me!" He's yelling now. The effect of his voice revolving into the valley, startling her. Why should he be the exception? What was so special about him that his siblings were cut down but he can walk?

“Just get out of here, John. And don’t show your face here again,”

"Charlie, wait!"

Lifting himself to his feet John finds himself rooted to the spot as her back is turned to him. The key to the bunker swinging like a noose in her palm as she steps further into the woods.

John sees flashes of how this could end. Of him running up behind her, strangling her until her legs stopped seizing. Grab her gun and shoot her in the head, be done with it once and for all. But those violent thoughts seem to fade against memories of their kiss, still fresh in his mind. The feel of her pulse beneath his hand, her curls between his fingers, her hot breath fanning across his skin…

Instead, the wind brushes against him. Making him all too aware of his still wet lips. And John turns his back on Charlie.

#FARCRY 5 #FAR CRY 5 #John Seed #John Seed x Deputy #John Seed x F!Deputy #John seed x female deputy #fanfic #far cry fic

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