#rook x jacob

[imgnnafurgf]

Farcry5 where everything is the same but it's just Seeds really pissed off because deputy is taller than all of them and every time they just get more creative how to look taller

Faith would fly

Jacob stands on a box on his presentation time

Joseph never gets off the stage

John learns how to wear high heels

[acradelius]

KINKTOBER '24 IDEAS

I've decided that I'm going to try and participate in this year's Kinktober event to try and get some motivation back for writing. I might not do a piece for every day, maybe every other day or three, in order to not overwhelm and burn myself out.

Here's some ideas that I've come up with by far :) Once again, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

I. "One Of Your Wives"

Inspired by "One of Your Girls" by The Weeknd

FANDOM - The Walking Dead

PAIRING: Negan Smith x Female! Reader

SUMMARY - Reader is taken by Negan as a result of a compromised trade. Expecting to be rescued not too long later, Reader rejects Negan's offer of becoming one of his wives. Yet, as time continues passing by without any attempts of being rescued, becoming one of Negan's wives is becoming more appeasing by the day, not that Reader would admit it.

II. "Video Message Incoming"

FANDOM - Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (2019-2023)

PAIRING - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Female! Reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female! Reader, (Essentially) Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Female! Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley

SUMMARY - While having some downtime on a mission Soap proceeds to check his phone, seeing that he has some incoming video messages from his best friend, Simon, who's on a break from missions. Let's just say that Simon's been taking good care of Johnny's woman while he's been away.

III. "Rattlesnake Trail Bridge"

FANDOM - Far Cry 5

PAIRING - Jacob Seed x Female! "Rook"! Reader

SUMMARY - Rattlesnake Trail Bridge. It's the place where Jacob Seed goes to indulge in a drink or two whenever the stress of Eden's Gate becomes too much. A nice, quiet place, solely for him. That's till one night he comes upon Reader, Hope County's Junior Deputy, in his spot with a drink as well.

IV. "Extended, Deleted Scenes"

FANDOM - Fallout (TV Series)

PAIRING - Actor! Cooper Howard x Actress! Co-Star! Female! Reader

SUMMARY - Cooper Howard's career has definitely gone downhill since doing those advertisements for Vault Tec, making him somewhat desperate and taking on whatever roles and scenes that he can. When offered a chance to make extended scenes for "A Man from Deadhorse", Cooper agrees, but soon finds out that it's definitely not what he thought, especially with his favorite co-worker involved as well.

V. "Strobing Lights, Snorting Lines"

FANDOM - Mass Effect (Mass Effect 2, Specifically)

PAIRING - Thane Krios x Female! Engineer! Reader

SUMMARY - Thane's been tasked with locating and bringing back Reader to the Normandy in order to retire for the night to continue on with the next part of the mission to fight the Reapers the following day. Managing to locate them amongst the crowd of intoxicated partygoers, Thane comes to discover that his crew mate isn't as innocent as he had believed. Yet, with a little bit of convincing, he finds himself not only indulging with a piece of the clubbing experience, but also in Reader as well.

[miles-is-so-gay]

what if the jr deputy had whatsapp huh what would happen

[derputy]

Far Cry 5 as Community (with terrible closed captions) Because I'm Running Out of Ideas & I Thought It Kinda Fit || @racheljo47 @ms-rampage @i-am-the-balancing-point

[honey-bunny-sushii]

Soulmate marks are the first words that are spoke to them. However, before meeting your soulmate if they are in enough emotional stress the other soulmates can feel it and send comforting feelings back. In Hope of calming them down.

During the sermon. The seed brothers' soulmate has been buzzing with nerves for a few hours now. Causing Joseph to stutter over words. Stop speaking for moments to breathe. While John fidgets in place. Glancing around nervously. Jacob is not better at hiding it. But there are still small signs. When the helicopter crashed their soulmate's fear nearly made John collapse. Joseph hid it better. Felt he had to as he spoke down to the Jr deputy. Had to hide it from his flock as they helped him out. However, the moment he shouts the words “begin the reaping” Joseph is knocked down. He holds his wrist where his soulmark lays as it burns. Pure unfiltered terror crashes from it consuming him. For a worrying moment, Joseph thinks his soulmate is dying. A voice. Faint. Almost impossible to hear. Echoes from their soulmarks. A shout saying they don't want to die. While Jacob and John sit on the floor back at the church. Surrounded by the flock. Joseph is on his knees begging his soulmate to calm down. Just for a moment. It isn't unheard of for a soulmate to be able to speak through the bond if something truly scary is happening. Fortunately, it also means their soulmate isn't dead. Yet. As Joseph watched the junior deputy run in fear. He can't help but think his soulmate sounds very similar to the Deputy. A struggling shout leaves him. Demanding his flock catch his soulmate before he even realized he demanded it. He watched with wide eyes as his flock dropped their guns In panic. Realizing they were shooting their father's soulmate. Before they are all running full speed into the woods

(could have definitely been better)

[flare-queen]

Deputy with her Chibi Seeds

[loserreinawriter]

Open Far Cry 5 x reader requests!!

Hi!! (New to this app so please excuse any mistakes) But I’ve been writing for years and want to take on some Far Cry 5 X reader ideas, even with a quieter fandom. Could be any human adult character, just send a prompt and request and I’ll happily oblige :D

Note: Reader will always be assumed to be the deputy unless requested to be otherwise, and will be written as gender neutral if not explicitly requested as otherwise.

[seedofjoseph]

homebound

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Relationship: Jacob Seed x F!Deputy

Rating: M (mature)

Words: 700

Author's Note: I've already confessed my preference for a possessive male love interest (link), so that's the romance trope I'm guilty of in this one.

Jacob Seed pulled back your leash the night you stepped foot out of his sight.

It turned out that his collar was tighter than you thought, as he tracked your scent down in spite of you splashing through every stream on your way down the Whitetail Mountains.

Under the full moon, surrounded by snarling Judges and challenged by his Chosen, you shivered. Then, bitting down on your thrumming heart with clattering teeth, you braced yourself for their Bliss bullets. Yet, none ever got to graze your gooseflesh that night.

"Hold your fire," you heard him howl before he manifested in the moonlight. "At ease," he lowered his hand, and the others lowered their guns with it. "C'mere," he called to you as if you were one of his Judges.

You disobeyed him, standing up as straight and as tall as your shivering spine allowed.

"C'mere," he waved you over as if you were one of his bitches. "Let's get you back home."

"I'm not going back into that kennel," you barked, voice breaking and chest heaving.

Under the moon, in the spotlight, your wet shirt clung to your skin, to the swell of your breasts and their perked-up peaks. And you only saw yourself exposed through his eyes, through the glare he gave his men as he grazed past them.

"At attention."

Because he could stand both straight and tall, he did, and all the others around him averted their gaze as he advanced toward you. With one last glower, he shot down the stares of the soldiers further undressing your form.

"I warned you, angel," Jacob Seed said softly, like a lullaby. "I warned you 'bout strayin' from the path. You must be fuckin' freezin'." He undressed, stripping the jacket off of his shoulders, and suspending it in the air, up at around your height. "C'mere," he called to you, like a song refrain you already knew.

Stepping into the open jacket, you sighed when its warmth was wrapped around your freezing shoulders.

"That's it."

And you gasped when you were gathered into his arms and your feet stopped touching the ground.

"That's a good girl."

With his arm around your sore shoulders, his hand squeezed your bruised bicep. With his other arm under both of your knobby knees, he turned around

"There a problem, soldier?" He raised his voice once more, directing it at the man who didn't divert his eyes from you, from his angel.

"N-no, sir."

"We're moving out," he began his trek back to the truck. Back home.

"Yes, sir."

You were halfway up the mountain and all the way up in Jacob Seed's lap when realization set in, seeping into your bones like the icy streams you crossed to wash off his scent: your collar was never coming off.

He words seeped into the base of your skull, his nose buried into the knotted hair at the back of your neck. "Did you think you were free?" He breathed you in, the ravenous rumbling in his chest vibrating through the back it was set against. "You've forgotten your purpose." And his words now seeped into your spine, into the pit of your stomach and bottom of your belly. "You've forgotten who you belong to."

When his tongue lapped up the salty sweat and fresh water running down the side of your neck, you tasted your own hunger on yours. And when you swallowed the scent that surrounded you, the scent that clung to his jacket, you also distinguished the dampness in your already wet jeans. And the musk marinating in his own.

Your seat was hot because Jacob Seed was hot. And the bulge he sat you down on was burning, not nursed by the friction forming between it and your bottom.

When his lips latched onto that strip of skin covering your jugular vein, you tilted your head to make room for his teeth.

His canines pressed against your pulse, and his hand came around to tighten around your throat. "Mine." As his fangs forced themselves into your flesh, you felt the pull of his leash and the squeeze of his collar. "You're mine."

You swallowed a scream and wound up your spine like a bow against his chest, your cushiony ass arching back against his hard cock. And he licked at your wound, winding the invisible collar even tighter and visibly marking you.

"You belong to me."

[aiza-luna]

ASSASSIN'S CREED SYNDICATE - SANCTITY: Nightly Haunt.

__________________________________

__________________________________

December 19th, 1888

----------------------

Cold.

That's all that she felt, cold. The terrible weather in London that seemed to loom over her. It was December, winter was already at the door... The thick snow covering most of the streets as she returned to her home.

The Estate she ordered the build in 1874, named "Hampton Manor", for the water meadow located in it's proximities. A place of quietude located in Hastings... She wanted to live closer to the sea side, like when she lived in Spain, feeling closer to her home.

As she reached the door, she found... Odd. There was no servant to greet her, and the carriege she came from was gone. She stood alone, in the wintery night... A shiver ran down her spine, but not by the weather.

Something was wrong.

Shaking the feeling, she opened the doors of her house, the wood cracking loudly across the entrance. There was only silence.

No cheerful chatting from the maids, no chandelier and bright lights, or the preparations for the upcoming Christmas. Only... Silence. And a faint light coming from some weak candles.

- Ms. Scotts? Ms. Wilson? Mr. Briggs? - She called loudly, but her only response was dead silence.

Something was really wrong.

She walked a bit further across the entrance, but she stopped as she felt her boots stomp over something... Wet.

The soft sound of liquid moving and dropping echoed, making her frown.

- Pero lo que és es... - The Spaniard murmured in confusion, stopping mid-sentence, reaching out for one of the lit candles, grabbing the holder.

She placed it near the puddle she stepped over... To her horror. It wasn't water.

It was blood.

Her expression grew to shock, her heart sinking to her chest as her instincts went sky-high. Someone had entered her house, and killed one of her staff.

Her thoughts were running in miles per hour, her heartbeat rising... How could that happened?!

She light up around the puddle, spotting a cold pale hand flat across the floor... Ms. Carter, one of the oldest maids in the house. The woman was brutally murdered, her maid dress torn apart, her chest opened as her organs were spreas around her body. 

Her eyes stared at the grotesque display in front of her. She wasn't a stranger to death, but seeing a friend in such gruesome state... It filled her with revolt. Sheer anger and worry for what else happened in her house.

She started to walk over the house, stopping more bloody puddles as she walk, the very floors of her beloved mansion painted in crimson. She refused to look at the bodies, for now... She had to discover who did such animalistic attack against her staff.

That's when she noticed the staircase... A bloody trail tainted the blue carpet that was placed on it. The Assassin walked up in light and silence steps, holding the candle holder firmly on her hand.

Silently following the trail, with only the sound of the wind outside, she stopped when she realized the trail continue, down the hallway. A goosebump ran over her spine. That's wasn't good.

She continued after a deep breath, following the macabre trail... Until she froze, her pulse accelarating once more and her body turning cold.

That was her Children's Playroom. Her free hand trembled as she reached for the door knob, the creek of the wood was almost deafining...

... The room was pitch black dark, with no light turned on. She held her breath as she turned on the light bulb... And felt her heart sink down her stomach.

There was blood everywhere. On the wallpapers, on the toys, on the floor... A carnage spread for any poor soul that entered to witness. On the floor, layed four petit bodies, covered in white sheets, soaked red with blood, only their feet visible.

She felt the tears pouring down her cheeks as she rushed towards the bodies, sobbing loudly as she touched them over the cover. Cold. Dead cold... Her white gloves becoming stainted as well, but she didn't care. 

A aching pain ripped across her whole being... She wanted to scream, to cry, to yell until the air was gone from her lungs. She wanted to tear her own flesh, to sink her fingers on her body to make the pain in her being more bearable.

Her children, her beloved children... No Mother could stand what she was witnessing.

- Alyssa... James... Miranda... Leo... - She murmured, as she cuppered the face of the last body, her youngest son, Leonardo, over the sheet. - Perdóname.., Ay mis amores,  Perdóname... - The Assassin pleaded quietly in a thin voice, broken and filled with hopelessness, as she lowered her head and let the tears flow down.

- What a lovely family reunion! - A new voice said, breaking the mouring of the Spaniard, who quickly reacted. Turning to face the new arrival, her eyes wided when she saw who it was.

The young man with light brown hair and and blue eyes, wearing a dark cloack and coat, his physic towering over hers considerally.

- Jack...? - She murmured in desbelief. The orphan Jacob took under his wing, long ago. Jack Cohen, a poor boy from a family of Jewish-Polish immigrants, that ended up in an Asylum, being freed after the downfall of Crawford Starrick and took by her husband.

She knew that boy since he entered in their lives. He witnessed the birth of her children, she tried to look for him and understand him, like a mother. And now...

- You... - She murmured, her expression shifting. -... It's was you?! - The Spaniard groaned, anger building up whitin her, ready to explode.

- A masterful piece, wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Frye? - The man replied, smirking as she held the knife, caressing the tip of it with his finger. - This is what the Assassins are! The true potential of the Creed! - He exclaimed, opening his arms.

She clentched her teeth. How dared him?!

- This is not the Creed, you monster!! This is your twisted delirium!! - The Assassin stood up, pointing her blooded glove towards the killer, her eyes filled with rage. - ¡Eres un demonio! ¡¡Un demonio que entró en nuestras vidas y las convirtió en un infierno!! - Solange screamed in anger, but Jack didn't fazed, or stopped smiling.

- Strong words, coming from a woman, my Lady... - He mused darkly, his eyes filled with a sadistic glee. - I'm not sure Jacob is being very fond of your language. - The Ripper continued, pointing his blade to a corner of the room.

She didn't saw it when she entered... She could swear that part was empty. But now, it was her worst nightmare. Sitting in the swinging chair in the room, the same chair she spend nights breastfeeding and singing her children to sleep... Was now covered in blood.

Jacob was sitting there. His eye swallowed, his face bleeding and his Master Assassin uniform torn brutally. His chest was open, his guts falling over his lap, as his other organs were spread on his feet, followed by his hands and Assassin Gauntlet, his heart... Was right under her feet.

Solange let out an horrorfied gasp, one of her hands covering her mouth. He wasn't covered like their children... He was left to the naked eye to see, like a grim taunt towards her.

- JACOB!! - She cried instinctively, running towards him, almost slipping over the pool of blood. She leaned towards him, her hands shaking as she cuppered his face... His cheeks were ice cold, his skin pale with purple bruises, and his eyes... Oh God, his eyes.

Milky, opaque... Lifeless. His hazel-green eyes didn't greet her with his typical glow of joy and love, but only mirroring her reflection in an empty gaze, a dead stare. She let out a loud sob.

- Jacob, mi amor... - The Assassin murmured in another hipccup... Why? Why did this happened?! Why them?! Why not her?! - Mi amor, perdóname... Por favor... - She pleaded silently, hugging what was now her husband's corpse.

The Ripper did nothing but soft chuckle at the display in front of him. That made the Spanish Assassin rage. The Creed, her composion, everything was second-handed. She wanted him to pay for ever entering in her life.

- ¡¡MALDITO!! - She screamed at the top of her lungs, withdrawing her hidden blades, she charged towards him, pressing him up against the wall. As she would strike, he headbutt her, dizzing her briefly, before strincking a blow with his arm.

She stepped back, defending from another kick, but as she attack, her punch was blocked, and she got kicked in the stomach. The younger man didn't losted time and pinned her down with his body weight, the Assassin held his arm back, kicking his abdomen and rolling over him, moving one of her arms, but he quickly moved to grab her neck, pinning her down once more.

- Don't worry, Mrs. Frye. - He grumbled sadistically. - I'll make sure you go after your husband and children. After all, you have already left them alone with me, right? - Jack teased in a hiss, watching the Assassin gasp for air under him.

He raised his blade, aiming towards her forehead.

- Welcome them in the death, Lady Cotoner... And have a nice family reunion. - He commanded in a excited tone, his eyes filled with a maniacal glow.

That was the last thing she saw, before everything went black...

... Solange gasped out in panic, her body rising in a jolted motion. Her face was sweaty and her eyes filled with panik. She blinked a few times, adjusting with the lack of light in her bedroom... Only the moon illuminated her place.

Her train of thoughts were interrupted by a soft snort. As she turned to see her side, she saw a figure she immediatly recognized: Jacob.

Her husband was deep asleep, bandaged as his wounds healed in a slow but assured pace. The now trademarked eyepatch over his left eyes as he layed against the pillow.

His hair messy and the bedsheets over him. She let out a deep relieved sigh, placing a hand over her chest. 

Smiling silently, she moved one of her hands to touch his hair, gently moving his bangs off his face... She sweetly caressed his brown hair, a few strings of gray hair appearing, a sign of his stress during the Autumn of Terror.

He was there. With her. By her side, on their bed...

... Everything was fine.

That was just a nightmare.

Jack was dead, unable to do anymore harm to him or their family... But that wasn't because of her, but because of Evie.

It was only Evie, because she wasn't there.

It was Evie... Not her, that ended that nightmare.

She failed. She failed to protect them.

The Spaniard bit her lips, exhaling through her nose. She sitted on the bed for a few moments, contemplating everything... The mission on Morocco was sucessful. They managed to calm the tensions between Spain and Morocco, she herself had audiances with Hassan I of Morocco, discussing not only regarding to the Spanish influence on the country, but also about the slave trade still practiced within the nation.

Yet, still... All of this came with the cost of leaving her husband behind. Leave her young children behind. God and all Saints be praised for Caroline's good heart in keeping her children safe in Crawley.

But she only did so because she wasn't there to protect them, like a mother should... And that hurted. More than any stab or bullet she took while in Morocco, aiding the local Brotherhood.

With a soft sigh, the Countess got off the bed and silently walked towards the door to the balcony. Opening it, revealed her the chilly winter air, which made her shiver instantly, her night gown softly blowing along the breeze.

No matter how many years passed, she could never get used to the cold. Prefering the warmer mediterrenean weather of her homeland. Still, the fresh air of the woods surrounding the manor brought her a bit of comfort... It matched the coldness and guilty that was chilling all over her soul.

She stood there, near the balcony railing, feeling the cold of the wintery night for minutes, her gaze lost in the darkness.

- I thought you were a Hoopoe, Sunshine, not an Owl. - A male raspy and tired voice chimmed, breaking the dead silence of the moment, making her turn around.

Her husband stood there, on his night shirt, holding a candelabrum in his hand. His gaze curious and sleepy, as he watched her.

- Jacob... - She stated quietly, knowing the hour and the state he was in. -... Perdóname, cariño, ¿te desperté? - Solange inquired gently, moving her hands away from the balcony railings.

- You didn't, the bed just felt empty without you. - He replied in a soft tone, walking closer to her. - Sol, sweetheart, is everything alright? - Jacob asked, recognizing the look of sadness on his wife's face.

- I'm fine. - She replied calmly, flashing a small smile. - I just... Needed air. - The Spanish Lady murmured, looking back into the dark woods.

Jacob rose an eyebrow, visibly not buying her words. A look for concern still present on his features.

- I didn't knew people need to take a blow of winter air on their faces at late night when they don't sleep. - He replied with a bit of sarcasm, Solange smiled a bit more... Even after all those years, he was still as sharp as ever.

- I'll take you don't believe me, right? - She inquired rhetorically, he smiled.

- Not for a moment, love. - Jacob affirmed, Solange shook her head amused, but his smile flatted as he continued to watch her. - Solange, darling, we have been through this... Please tell me what's wrong. - He pleaded gently, reaching out his hand on hers.

Solange looked at him, her honey-brown eyes filled with a mix of emotions. Fear, embarassment, hesitation, worry... Everything a confusion mess on her orbs.

- I... Had a nightmare. - She admitted. God, that sounded so silly out loud. Almost like she was a scared child confessing to their parent.

Jacob looked at her puzzled.

- A nightmare? - He repeated, before he realized what she was implying, his expression softning but still had a worried gaze with his hazel-green eye. - Love... Are you still thinking about it? - He wondered gently, already knowing the awnser.

- There isn't a day I'm not thinking about it, Jacob. - Solange replied, her tone quiet and guilty. - If only I was here with you, if only I was here to protect the children... I left you alone with that psicópata, what type of wife am I? What type of mother am I? - The brunette started to murmur with a heavy voice, her grip on his hand tightning slightly.

Jacob moved to her side, looking at her gently. - A wonderful wife and mother, and a wonderful Master Assassin. - He replied with kindness and conviction. - You had to do a mission, it was you duty. - The British said, trying to give her some reassurance.

- I know. - She argued. - But that mission costed my presence here. It cost my presence when my family needed me the most. - Solange said, visibly frustrated with the situation.

- Solange, it's over. - Jacob said, frowning in worry at his wife's constant repetition of what happened. - Jack is dead, the children are safe. The Moroccan Brotherhood needed you and your apprentices from Barcelona. - He continued.

Solange looked at him, moving her free hand to his face, gently caressing his cheek, over to the eyepatch he worn on his left eye. It broke her heart to know Jack, that maldito beated him until his eye was swallowed... It hurted not seeing both his hazel-green eyes sparkling joyfully at her.

- I'll never forgive myself for leaving, Jacob... Not when you needed me. - She confessed in a whisper. - I failed you... Lo siento mucho... - The Spaniard pleaded in a thin voice. Her honey-brown eyes carried all the misery and tiredness that her own blame brought upon her.

Jacob's expression dropped to one of pain and empathy. Even after all this years, Solange was still the same: Keeping blaming herself in silence, dwelling on the guilt of her choices until it chocked her alive. He hated that, he hated watching her trying to take the weight of the world on her shoulders because of her sense of duty, as a wife and as an Assassin.

The Gang Leader slowly moved his arm around her, bringing her closer to him in a hug, his other hand still holding the candelabrum.

- Sol, my darling... - He started, his voice gentle but firm. -... You didn't failed me, and you didn't failed our family. We didn't knew what Jack would have become... And what would he do. - the patriarch murmured, his tone filled with sorrow and resignation over his apprentice's death.

- I don't want you to blame yourself for not being prepared for what we didn't knew. - He affirmed softly, feeling her grip on his nightshirt tightning briefly. - I don't hold that against you, neither do the children... So don't do this for us. - Jacob concluded, hugging her tighter.

They stood like that for a few minutes, despite the coldness of the night, their warmth protected and comforted one another.

-... Gracias mi amor. - Solange said in a quiet and soft tone, slowly looking up at him. -... Gracias por todo. - She continued, giving a soft kiss on his eyepatch, making Jacob smiled.

- You're welcome, mí amor. - He replied lovingly, caressing her cheek with his thumb in a soothing manner, his british accent heavy as he spoke in her mother-tongue. - Now, let's go inside and you tell me about that nightmare... - Jacob started, moving her gently towards inside the room.

- That won't be needed, Jacob... - Solange tried to argue, but her only awnser from him was a smirk. 

- Of course it is! I wouldn't allow a nightmare to be in the way of my wife's sleep. I'll chase it off myself, if I need to. - He replied in a more playful manner.

The Spanish Noblewoman couldn't help but smile, it was just like in the first years they have met... His humor and witty never faded, only calmed with time.

- I know you will, mi grajo tonto... - The brunette returned in a tender but playful tone, resting her head on his shoulder.

She may never forgive herself, but she knew that her Rook would always have his Hoopoe by his side, from now on, that was a promise she made for herself. They were two birds that would never leave each other.

__________________________________

FINALLY.

I FINALLY DID ANOTHER JACOB x SOLANGE DRABBLE!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

Recently I have been seeing a lot of stuff about the Jack the Ripper DLC and it inspired me to work on this little scene! 🫶🏽

I really wanted to work on this since, unlike most OCs in the Fandom I saw, Solange was not witnessing the Autumn of Terror, instead, she was in Morocco, aiding the local Brotherhood in the amids of political tension with her country. (She is still a member of the Spanish Brotherhood afterall), so this lack of participation when her family needed the most took a tool on her, and I wanted to portray this guilt she would feel. 😔🥲

(This is also my way to explain why Ubisoft didn't made Jacob's wife appear in the DLC, although we all know is because they didn't wanted to give Jacob a Canon love interest.)

Although is not mentioned in the fic, their oldest son Emmett was in a mission in Wales, hence why he was also not in London when Jack started his reign of chaos. The only children mentioned (Alyssa, James, Miranda and Leonardo) are their youngest children, all still kids at that time.

Caroline is a character from "ACS: Sanctity", she is a maid in the Standford Estate and Solange's best friend when she arrived in London. In 1888, she is the Frye Family's Governess and Tutor, she was send to Crawley to watch over the children by Jacob, who feared Jack would try to hunt them down in Hastings. (Where their main house/ estate was located and Jack knew about)

I'm really proud of how this scene turned out! I wanted to show more of Sol and Jacob as a married couple, after all the events of my fic 🥹

I really hope I manage to give a taste of what their relationship ended up like, middle-aged Solob has my heart 🫶🏽

Well, that's all for now! Hope you all enjoy it! 🩵

__________________________________

Solange Teresa Vivianne Cotoner-Frye by @aiza-luna

Jacob Frye by Ubisoft

Caroline Mason, Alyssa Esperanza Frye-Cotoner, James Sebastián Frye-Cotoner, Miranda Christine Frye-Cotoner, Leonardo Theodore Frye-Cotoner by @aiza-luna

Cover Editing by _We.are.Assassin_

Writting by @aiza-luna

__________________________________

[arcandoria]

for dearest @gaeadene, my favorite deputy and soldier wolf man <3

🎨 commissions

[imgnnafurgf]

Deputy: *gets in the car after hanging out with Sharky*

John, over the radio: and you're wasting your time for THAT. This man jokes about your mother. I would never.

Deputy, tired tone, absolutely used to that shit: he made the joke about twenty minutes ago. How long you've been waiting for me?

John:

John: 4 hours.

[brunuhvielle]

Evie Frye (with Lydia appearance) moments: 3/?

Brother mine.

[derputy]

Far Cry 5 as Parks & Rec* - Part 4 (Pt. 1/2/3) || As usual, tagging some awesome inspirations @racheljo47 @ms-rampage @i-am-the-balancing-point @yeetslovescheese - they never once asked to be tagged but they (so far) still let me for some reason <3

(commercial voice) **beware probable inconsistencies & spelling errors. the following meme video may not accurately depict op's feelings towards certain characters. canon accuracies may vary.

[flare-queen]

Deputy Riley got into a a sticky situation.

[seedofjoseph]

a garden locked up is my sister, my bride

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Relationship(s): Polyseed feat. F!Deputy

Rating: M (mature)

Words: 3700

Warning(s): displays of non-platonic affection between non-blood relatives; polyamory; traditional gender roles; more corn than a field; more crack than a backroad

Author's Note: The following fanfic is loosely tied to both canon and my own headcanon in the form of an E-rated one (link). And it has even looser ties to Valentine's Day.

Eden's Gate does not recognize any saints save for every Project member who ever took a bullet for the Father. There are as many martyrs as there are guns in Hope County, and some of them might've even been Valentines.

On the last day of summer and what could've easily been the first day of the Collapse, the Seeds reunited on their Ranch in Holland Valley for a feast. They were to eat, drink and enjoy life in the name of their dead Family members. And to celebrate the newest addition: you.

"I see yooou, girls," John threatened you with a sweet song, but not as sweet as the chocolate hearts you and Faith smuggled from his stockpile. "Don't be greedy," he followed your bare footfalls out of the kitchen, and your giggles all the up the stairs. "You're supposed to share."

"We are," you laughed, leading Faith into the master bedroom. "One box for the both of us," you came around the king-sized bed and cut the rug on your way onto the balcony.

"Oh, no," Faith feigned concern at being cornered. She even shielded herself behind you, sneaking a peak at John over your shoulder.

"Oh, yes."

He cracked up, catching his breath. However, he wasn't in a hurry to put his hands on either of you, choosing to extend his arms on either side of your only exit and entrance.

"Nowhere left to run," he leaned on his right foot. "Nowhere left to hide." Then, on his left.

"Brother," she spoke up when you couldn't stop snickering for long enough to do so yourself. "This isn't my fault," her hands slid along your arms and clasped the heart-shaped chocolate box you wore like armor over your chest. "She made me do it."

"What?" You turned, your cheek brushing up against her batting eyelashes. "I thought we had a Thelma and Louise thing going on," your indignation was audible and only drowned out by her sweet snickering. "Help me out here, Faith."

"I'll help you," his words were velvet wrapping around the two of you while both of his hands reached out. "I'll help you both. All you have to do is atone for your sin through an exercise in virtue," his tongue was dipped in honey while he put one foot in front of the other. "Charity."

"He wants it," she whispered into your ear, winding you up along with your arms. As she moved them like a marionette's, you saw them both before you, outstretched. "Let him have it, sister." And, as she pressed her chest against your back, her hands pulled at your own and the heart-shaped chocolate box opened before him. "You want a taste?"

"Want a taste?"

John was only another slow and sure step away from snatching the entire thing, but he stopped and stuttered when all three of you opened yourself to him. "What?" He narrowed his eyes and bunched up his brows. "What are you two playing at?"

"Charity," Faith blew air like a summer breeze behind your ear.

"Charity."

He didn't bite, but he did try for a taste test. With his eyebrows now raised and his eyes digging into the box, John placed his palms atop yours.

"Let him have it," she extracted her hands from underneath his and surrendered yours for direct skin-to-skin contact.

As soon as she slithered her way down your spine and over your sides, he bound your wrists in a brisk move that had the heart-shaped box falling between your fingers and shattering in chocolates all across the balcony. Her esape plan has been a success, leaving you trapped.

"Judas," you called after your partner-in-crime who was crawling away from the chaos she'd created.

"Look at what you did," John joined both of your wrists into a single grip of his. "Look at what you made me do," he lifted your arms above your head and spun you around, slamming your back against his chest as he pulled you into a crushing caress. "Now nobody gets to have a taste."

"John," you screeched, more thrilled than tortured by his manhandling. "John, stop," your voice shifted to a higher pitch, the shrill sound of it a stranger to your own ears. "I almost stepped on one," you balanced yourself on your bare feet while being dragged across the sun-kissed balcony.

What felt right at home was the hot and heavy breath at the back of your head. "I said I would help you, didn't I?" And the sensation of his strained arm muscles maneuvering your body back into the bedroom. "All that processed sugar is bad for you," he squeezed the side of your thigh he tightened his arms around, crumpling the crispt white skirt of your new Sunday dress he had scavenged Holland Valley for.

"Let her go," you heard Faith before you saw her. She stood taller than both of you, up on the bed, but chose to come down from there by landing and latching onto John's back.

"Fuck," he screamed, swiveling and stumbling with you handing off of his arms and her hanging off of his shoulders. "Fuck," he fell to his side, cushioning the both of you as your bound bodies bounced atop the mattress.

"Let us go," she threatened, untangling his now limp limbs from around your torso before binding him with his back against the sheets and his wrists in each of her small hands. "Or else."

"Fuck," John heaved, his chest moving up and down, lifting and lowering her as she straddled it. Still, while he strained to breathe with her sitting atop of him, he didn't even bother to wrestle his hands out of hers from where they wound up: over his head. "You know I can't do that, Faith."

From where you lay across the mattress, stretched out on your side next to him, you saw a man more than content to have been captured by a couple of women. Though he did make a show out of the sweet struggle of being suffocated by the strands of the perfumed hair draped over his face.

"Then we can't let you go," you laughed, looking at your sister-in-suffering who had joined forces with you once more when she dipped her head next to yours.

"Girls," he exhaled, not even bothering to move his mouth when you stole the last of his air from his lungs with a short and sweet peck. "You're going to be the death of me," he inhaled, the Bliss clinging to Faith's hair tickling his nose.

A fourth voice raised above your girlish giggling and his heavy breathing. "Ladies," it boomed and bounced off the bedroom walls. "This asshole bothering you?" It brought your attention to the door that none of you had bothered to close.

"Brother," your sister freed your other brother, flying off of him and over to Jacob Seed. "You made it," she smashed against his side.

"'Course I made it," he smiled, none of the hard lines you saw illuminated in the moonlight all those nights ago showing themselves in the afternoon sun. "It's Valentine's Day," he stroked her hair, his large, calloused hand sliding smoothly against the crown of her head. "C'mere, angel," he beckoned you. "Jonny can't hurt you while I'm around."

"Don't let Joseph hear you call it that," you hear John comment cooly from the emptied bed while you bounced to his brother's other side, warming up to his body heat.

He snorted, swinging his arm over your shoulder. "Let's wish each other Happy Holiday within earshot. Just to be safe."

"Where is Father?"

"He's wishing everyone else a Happy Holiday," Jacob looked down at Faith, rubbing calming circles into her sad, slumped shoulders. "He was closing in on the church in Fall's End the last time I radioed him."

"I thought we'd all be there for the potluck," you looked over the chocolate hearts melting out in the sun. "Is that still happening?"

"Everyone's coming over here for dinner," Jacob followed your line of sight all the way to the balcony. "Is that what you were fighting them over, Johnny? Candy?"

"I was teaching them about charity," the youngest brother defended himself, dry and parched for attention. "That candy was supposed to be passed around at the table, not hoarded."

"He thinks I'm hoardin' you," the oldest brother whispered, winding each of his arms around your middle and whisking you both off of your feet. "Here's your charity case," he huffed, hurrying towards the bed where John still lay.

All three of you landed in a heap of laughter, latching onto the fourth with greedy, grubby hands and starved smirking mouths. Now it was you and Faith on either side of John, leaving Jacob alone and above the scene, on his hunches, hollering.

"How's that for a treat, Johnny?"

"Damn it," he answered from under the adoration he was being showered with. "God damn it," he tossed his head back when your lips slipped into his collar where it was getting hot and stuffy.

"That sweet, huh?" Jacob moved off of the mattress and made a short trip to the scene of the crime to recover the surviving chocolates.

"More like blasphemous," John's chest shook under your mouth as he chuckled. "Sinful." And he licked the corner of his mouth where Faith had kissed him. "Deadly," he smirked at the sound of her squeak. He had snatched her up by the nape of her neck. Then, he tenderly tongued at the corner of her mouth, tasting the seam of it.

"Aww," she provoked him, pressing her forehead against his. "We've been too hard on you."

"Hard?" He slid his hand down your spine, slipping it under the skirt and slapping your uncovered cheek so hard your thigh trembled where you had thrown it over his obvious bulge. "I haven't been hard enough on you."

"Thought today was supposed to be about tender loving care," Jacob joined you on the bed, hicking his knee up at the foot of it. "And treats," he plucked a heart from the similarly shaped box. "Johnny, think fast," he tossed it towards him.

To everyone's surprise, including his own, John caught the treat between his teeth. In response, Jacob barked out a laugh, Faith pulled away far enough to bring her palms together and clap, and you slacked your jaw.

"Atta boy!"

"Father be praised!"

John, with his mouth full, couldn't respond. At least, not verbally. As if to cover up the crevice that was your open mouth, he gave you half of his heart to bite.

Jacob plucked another one and popped it into his own mouth. "There's that charity you were teaching 'em about," he chewed.

"It's a virtue," John licked his lips and laid down, high on the sweetness he'd been served.

You went as far as to demonstrate the lesson, by cupping Faith's cheek and carefully passing half of the chocolate chunk to her.

"Good," the older brother gave his approval, approaching the both of you with another heart to share. And it was Faith's turn to tear into it and feed you half. "Good girl," he groaned when you glazed his chocolate-covered fingers while wrapping your lips around them. "Shit," he choked out as you sucked him in.

"That sweet, huh?" The younger brother teased.

"Loving care and sweet treats," he cleared his voice, closing the now empty box with his saliva-slick fingers. "And gifts," he tossed it towards the entrance where a rucksack rested. "Fetch."

You and Faith stared at each other for no longer than a second before sprinting toward the bag of goodies. While you shoved the door hard enough for the wind to shut it, she snatched a strap and pulled it across the floor and to the foot of the bed. And under both brothers' eyes.

"Don't tell me you went shopping."

"No," he shook his head as if turning over the idea inside his skull. "Did you?"

"I did," John draped one arm over his shoulder and dropped one atop your white sleeve. "A new dress for our new sister."

"Fancy," Jacob murmured, watching you kiss his brother's knuckles in gratitude. "Musta been expensive."

"Not more expensive than Faith's," John looked over at her, and she swung her arms in the air, her new loose sleeves fluttering like wings..

"I went huntin'," Jacob said suddently, startling you.

Locking eyes with Faith again, you slowly sunk your hand into the rucksack while she silently unzipped it.

"And pickin' flowers," Jacob leaned down, taking the lead and taking out the two newspaper-wrapped boxes.

"What? What kind of flowers growing up there anyway?" John snorted while the two of you tore into the gifts. "Did you chop down a three for each?" John inquired further, now faced with two wooden boxes, blessed with the blood-red paint of Eden Gate's Cross.

"Will you wait for 'em to open the damn things or are you just gon' guess my ear off?" He raised his voice and his posture, tensing up. "A'ight," he clutched his knees, digging his jagged nail into his warn-out jeans. "Ladies?"

Silently, the two of you made a truce to break the tension, lifting up the lids at the same time. Gasping, you gathered your gifts which consisted of a rabbit foot silver pendant and the wildflowers laid to rest in raisin at the bottom of the box.

"Went huntin' on the last full moon, when this jackrabbit jumped out," he rubbed his palms against his pants as if to dry them further. "They're supposed to be lucky charms, though those feet didn't take 'im to no pot of gold," he toyed with the foot hanging from his neck, slumping over and steading his forearms on his thighs. "Made 'em myself. And the boxes. Painted 'em. Poured the raisin."

John joined him, crossing his arms atop his thighs. "You have an artist's eye," he joined their foreheads and Jacob's frown was smothered between their skins. "Runs in the family."

"He does," Faith showed off her flowers to you. "He made us still life paintings."

You traced them through the transparent surface. "They're beautiful."

"And poisonous," she added, now adorning the taxidermied charm around her neck. "It's bittersweet nightshade."

"Poetry runs in our blood," John smiled and Jacob joined him in the end. "Beautiful and deadly."

"They are." He reached down for the both of you, and you each rested your cheek in one of his cupped hands. "Like a couple of little ladies I know."

"Thank you," Faith fluttered her lashes and kissed his thumb while it traced her sweet smile.

And you took your time nuzzling into the warm nook that was the palm of his hand.

"Do you hear that?" John perked up, peering over Jacob's bowed head and out towards the balcony.

"Cavalry's here."

Faith was fast to react, running across the floor and reclining over the railing. "He's here," she jumped on her bare feet, joining in the outdoor choir. "The Father's here," she waved down at them, then waved over to you.

The Father was preoccupied with the praise of every other sibling downstairs to spot either one of you up on the second floor. It was Jacob's whistling that diverted the direction of his eyes from the driveway and focused his split attention on a singular point. And it felt like you were in the crosshairs of a firearm instead of a heated gaze.

Your heart was racing so fast, it competed with the rabbit's foot pendant you wrapped around your wrist. And it stopped altogether when the sun highlighted the slight curve in the corner of his mouth. If it weren't for your sister squeezing your hand, you might've melted down to your feet like the chocolates still scattered on the balcony.

"Joseph," Jacob exclaimed. "See you downstairs," he enunciated.

Joseph Seed answered with a big wave and a small smirk.

"C'mere, Johnny," you caught the oldest brother's words as they slipped through the cracked open bathroom door. "You chocolate all over your mouth."

"Damn it, Jake," the sound of the youngest brother sighing had you and Faith smiling silently at each other. "I'm not a fucking child."

"Oh, shit," you heard her swear for the first time, right before she grabbed a toothbrush - John's toothbrush - from the sink and furiously cleaned her chocolate-stained front teeth. "Make it fast," she passed it to you along with the paste. "Father's probably done wishing Happy Holiday by now."

"Gimmie a second," you sighed, still shaking from the earlier sighting. "Just need a second," you tremble as you thread your fingers through your hair.

"Here," she smoothed her fingers against your scalp and behind your ears. "He loves this fragrance," she stroked the spot with the scent she chemically engineered herself and had bottled especially for you in a glass vial. "He won't even notice the nervous sweat."

"Shut up," you lean back against her, laughing.

"I like it," she stared you down, over your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "You smell like you did back when you lept off of Joseph's Word," she nuzzled the strip of skin she rubbed the Bliss-based spray into. "You were so scared," her lips latched onto your earlobe. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" She whispered over the wet flesh and you whimpered. "Now you're one with the Father."

You remember it like a dream or a nightmare. Sister Faith had you take a leap of faith like every other Devoted, but it wasn't enough to keep on the Path. In the end, it wasn't Brother Jacob who brought you to your knees. It was Brother John who filled you with fear, soaked you in your own sweat, and make you bow before the Father.

Now, with a trembling on your lips and a thrill up your spine, you toss your head back, resting it on her shoulder, and taste sweet trepidation behind her tongue and sucked in a minty tongue.

"Your second's up," she pulled away, pulling a pained sound out of you.

"One more," you spun around, snatching her up and sitting her atop the sink.

"You're bad," she giggled while you gathered up the white lace into her lap and shoved your satin skirt-covered thighs in the sweet, slick space between hers. "Such a bad influence," she puffed, pushing her pelvis forward.

"Shut up and kiss me," you spoke into her gaping mouth, grinding down on he groin.

Your tongues had only just passed each other when reality came rapping at the bathroom door.

"Ladies," Jacob sounded faint like he'd been the one stealing breaths away. "Joseph's downstairs."

"In a minute," your sister spoke for the both of you, sliding off of the sink and smoothing down her dress skirt. In a minute, she combed through your mushed hair and cooled down your boiling blood. "Take the leap," she laced her fingers with yours and took the lead. "It'll be worth it."

John escorted you, holding the bedroom door open. "Take a good long look, Jake. That's the last we'll see of them."

"Just turn your head around, jackass," Jacob followed in your footsteps.

"You know what I mean," you heard John closing in on you and the first flight of stairs. "Daddy's home."

"Startin' to think it's you who needs to learn how to share," he lowered the volume of his voice the further down you went. "Bet that bed back there could fit five."

Faith feigned ignorance, swinging the bound arms between the two of you as she skipped her way to the sofa where Joseph Seed sat with a guitar in his lap.

"Father!" She bounced onto the bear rug and you followed, feeling the fur tickle your toes. "Look!" Turning towards you, she unfurled your fingers and thought you how to twirl.

And you mirrored her, moving counterclockwise, and pausing with your hands on each side of your skirt. "Mine has pockets, too," you slipped them inside.

"Brother John got them for us!"

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him and he hesitated at first, but eventually smiled back.

Like you, John picked up on the guitar pick pausing, and the strumming stopping. The Father was about to speak.

"Beautiful," his sky-blue eyes lit up behind the sun of his glasses like he already knew where to look for the 'deadly' that 'beautiful' was paired up with. Lifting the guitar off of his lap, he sat each of you on either side of him. And so, he hoisted your leg up on his thigh, while you folded the other under you and cozied up into the cushions.

"John always had an eye for the finer things in life," his voice was warm and his breath was hot as he spoke against the slope of your neck like he already picked up on the perfume.

"Runs in the family," John's smile was sincere as he came to sit at your side.

"You'd have to be blind not to know a pretty little thing when you see one," Jacob took you by your hand and showed off the silver pendant nestled in the palm of it. "Killed this one for 'em. And for good luck."

"Is that blood on your hands? Joseph focused on his thumb, the sweet stain still clinging to it.

"Chocolate," he chuckled after taste-testing it. "We shared a box full of 'em."

John smothered a laugh between your shoulder blades and Faith hid her face under Father's chin.

"I see," the Father unfurrowed his brow, relaxing his rigid muscles underneath your tentative touch. "I do hope you saved room for dessert."

"Doncha mean dinner, Joseph?"

"I mean cupcakes," his smirk returned, a hand running through your hair, tucking it behind your ear while he took another whiff.

"Oh," Faith brightened up, bouncing on his knee. "You've been baking again?"

"No," he pecked her pouting lips. "We'll be baking. All of us. As a family."

"A'ight," Jacob's joints popped as he plopped himself next to Faith. "Long as the baby doesn't go anywhere near a stove."

"The baby?" You were confused, but only until John cleared the fog you found yourself in.

"There he goes again. Jake, I'm your kid brother, not an actual kid."

"You are the man of the house," Joseph said solemnly, with only a sprinkle of sarcasm. "Thank you for hosting us this holiday, John."

"Happy Holiday," you wished him, just as you and Jacob had agreed.

"Happy Holiday, my child," he murmured into your mouth, gifting you your first kiss on the last day of summer.

And, if God is good, it would be the first day of the Collapse.