fc5holidayexchange

[fc5holidayexchange]

Hey everyone! We’ve reached the end of the exchange! We had a total of 88 gifts published! They’ve all been wonderful gifts, and the sheer amount of work that everyone has put into this exchange has brought so much joy and holiday fun to the fandom!

We just want to give a big thank you to @bintangy​, who has drawn all of the art used in the blog theme and also provided more art for the opening and closing posts! 

And a special thank you to the wonderful pinch hitters who were able to create amazing gifts on short notice and during the holidays. @spicyinsanity​ @ma-sulevin​ @sleepydaydreamz​ @stormklinge​ @red-nightskies​ @teamhawkeye​ @decertatio thank you so much!

Thank you so much to everyone for participating! 

A full list of the reveals:

Day One

“Blood Moon” created by @starsandskies​ for @stormklinge​ 

“Gävlebocken” created by @unclefungusthegoat​ for @ma-sulevin​ 

“How the Tea Saved Christmas” created by @weekend-writer for  @bintangy​  

“Hers to Keep” created by @sleepydaydreamz​ for @spicyinsanity​ 

“Deputy Cabe C'Lobo” created by @lastlamb​ for @yokobai​ 

“Four Presents of the Apocalypse” created by @enatsu-masaru​ for @bitchmysaladispeople​ 

“Peaceful Embrace” created by @jackythemoo​ for @chuckhansen​ 

“Into The Bliss” created by @nicktremblaywayfu​  for @caugustmcmullen

“Jacob Seed/Deputy Anna Reid” created by @cowboybound​ for @red-nightskies​ 

“The Seed Family” created by @ask-chibi-rook​ for @tlhoh​ 

“Camp-Out” created by @seedsplease​ for @smithandrogers​

“Jacob Seed/Male Deputy” created by @spicyinsanity​ for @silvercloud234 (+bonus “Staci Pratt”) 

“Deputy Andreia Cordeiro/Faith Seed” created by @ohdaenerys​ for @celiansartblog​ 

“Happy Holidays” created by @jacobsknifeplay​ for @farcryfuckmeup​ 

“Surrender” created by @demiromance​ for @fluttyseed​

“Jacob Seed/Deputy Anya” created by @dolphinitley​ for @padme4000

Day Two

"Christmas morning camping trip" created by @nihildep​ for @chyrstis​

“Dahlia Seed” created by @johnsrevelation​  for @fkingpeggies​

“John Seed / Deputy Elenore Parker” created by @spicyinsanity​  for @shellibisshe​

"Christmas Lights” created by @mrs-sakurai​  for @johnathot-seed​

“Office Liaison" created by @stormklinge​  for @tentaclevamp​

“A Loving Embrace” created by @rifle-by-your-side for @nicktremblaywayfu​

"Aim for the Heart" created by @sleepydaydreamz​ for @oh-the-bliss

“Some Downtime” created by @theblissburns​ for @decertatio

“Love Is In The Bunker" created by @another-bryk-in-the-wall​ for @bunnymoss​

“Morning Bliss“ created by @jacob-seed​ for @mr-arainai​

”Break time” created by @yokobai​ for @rifle-by-your-side

“A rare flower” created by @lexieheron​ for @ohdaenerys​

“Mags O'Connell/John Seed/Sharky Boshaw” created by @minilev​ for @polarbaroness​

“Come things only happy and whole” created by @sparrowsandswallows​ for  @ask-chibi-rook​

“The Eli Palmer Files” created by @closecry​ for @noxgold​

“A Quiet Night” created by @smithandrogers​ for @deputy-rice-pudding

“Be Still” created by @farcryfuckmeup​ for @another-bryk-in-the-wall​​

Day Three

“Faith Seed & Priestess Iris” created by @decertatio​ for @glowwormsmith​

“Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed” created by @tlhoh​​ for @twinkcounty​

“Jacob Seed/Natalie Charlyle” created by @fadedjacket​​ for @eternalnope​

“Solstice” created by @stormklinge​​ for @ja-crispea​

“Made For Me” created by @deputy-sarah-sux​​ for @farcry5-obsessions

“Tonight” created by @seedlingsinner​​ for @teamhawkeye​

“Holiday Blues” created by @ja-crispea​​ for @hazy-pumpkin-moon

“Redemption” created by @softseeds​​ for @seedsplease​

“The Family That Cooks Together”  created by @glowwormsmith​​ for @fadedjacket​

“Joseph Seed and Elise Matthews Holiday Embrace”  created by @deputylacy​​ for @lastlamb​

“Jacob Seed/Harlan Murphy” created by @bintangy​​ for @iwalkupanddownstairs​

“Blissful Dreams and Other Things” created by @noonvraith​​ for @theblissburns​

“Deborah Fawkes/John Seed” created by @celiansartblog​​ for @noonvraith​

“Hope County Sunday Walk” created by @mr-arainai​​ for @wewillryesagain​

“Jacob x Em” created by @eternalnope​​ for @dolphinitley​

“Deputy Violet Ashe and Joseph Seed” created by @deputy-rice-pudding​ for @malefiquinn​

“Deputy Lucy Evans/Jacob Seed” created by @fantasmagoriam​​ for @softseeds​

“John seed/Vivian Harris” created by @silvercloud234​ for @lexieheron​​

Day Four

“Deputy Liona and Jacob Seed Edit” created by @fkingpeggies​​ for  @jacob-seed​​

“What a Nice Dream” created by @tentaclevamp​​ for @chazz-anova​

“we have always played for keeps” created by @hopecountylovin​​ for @nihildep​

“Your Special Night” created by @nightwingshero​​ for @sleepydaydreamz​

“Far Cry 5 Holiday Exchange 2019 Edits” created by @ma-sulevin​​ for @sparrowsandswallows​

“ Deputy Vasilisa Tereshkova/Mary May Fairgrave” created by @padme4000​ for @oliviawildesjawline​

“Denial” created by @fluttyseed​​ for @fantasmagoriam​

“far cry gift exchange | part 1″ created by @pabstbeerpussy​​ for @minilev​ (+2)

“John Seed/Deputy Elli Rose” created by @johnathot-seed​​ for @jackythemoo​

“Deputy Dylan Foster and Mary May Fairgrave” created by @theknifegame​​ for @weekend-writer

“Jealousy Looks Good on You” created by @ma-sulevin​​ for @pabstbeerpussy​

“Chocolate Cravings” created by @polarbaroness​​ for @seedlingsinner​

“Nicole Gerber and John Seed” created by @teamhawkeye​​ for @theknifegame​

“Where the lines overlap” created by @malefiquinn​​ for @fsocietydotdat​

“Dawn Wilson” created by @chuckhansen​​ for @starsandskies​

“I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you)” created by @chyrstis​​ for @finefeatheredfarcryplayer​

“Holiday fun at the Spread Eagle” created by @shellibisshe​​ for @refinedstorage​

“Christmas at the Seeds” created by @decertatio​ for @refinedstorage​

“Quiet Night” created by @fsocietydotdat​​ for @jacobsknifeplay​​

Day Five

“Jacob x Harper” created by @red-nightskies​​ for @demiromance​

“Chanel Payne/ Staci Pratt” created by @iwalkupanddownstairs​​ for @deputylacy​

“Woodland Wolves“  created by @wewillryesagain​​ for @enatsu-masaru​

“Deputy Bonnie Parrish/John Seed”  created by @red-nightskies​​ for @cowboybound​

“Deputy Sarah Lamb/Jacob Seed” created by @teamhawkeye​​ for @deputy-sarah-sux​

“Deputy x Jacob Seed” created by @jacob-seed​​ for @mrs-sakurai​

“John/Wren” created by @finefeatheredfarcryplayer​​ for @nightwingshero​

“A Kiss Your Captor Christmas“ created by @twinkcounty for @closecry

“One Dinner” created by @casino-lights​ for @kadaransmuggler​

“Fool Me Thrice” created by @bunnymoss​​ for @johnsrevelation​

“Merry Christmas, Baby” created by @oh-the-bliss​ for @hopecountylovin​​

“Sasha and Staci” created by @farcry5-obsessions​ for @casino-lights

“Its just a matter of time until we’re all found out” created by @kadaransmuggler​​ for @unclefungusthegoat​​

We also had five extra fandom gifts:

“Deputy and Sharky” by @oliviawildesjawline​

“Sometimes Love is Not the Best Thing for You” by @bitchmysaladispeople​

“Atonement” by @chazz-anova​

“An Inconvenient Longing” by @caugustmcmullen

“First Yule” by @refinedstorage​

#update #closing post #fc5holidayexchange

[fc5holidayexchange]

DAY FIVE ROUND-UP

And we’ve reached the end of all of the gift reveals! 

The final gifts that were posted today were: 

“Jacob x Harper” for @demiromance

“Chanel Payne/ Staci Pratt” for @deputylacy

“Woodland Wolves“ for @enatsu-masaru

“Deputy Bonnie Parrish/John Seed” for @cowboybound

“Deputy Sarah Lamb/Jacob Seed” for @deputy-sarah-sux 

“Deputy x Jacob Seed” for @mrs-sakurai

“John/Wren” for @nightwingshero

“A Kiss Your Captor Christmas“ for @closecry

“One Dinner” for @kadaransmuggler

“Fool Me Thrice” for @johnsrevelation

“Merry Christmas, Baby” for @hopecountylovin​

“Sasha and Staci” for @casino-lights

“Its just a matter of time until we’re all found out” for @unclefungusthegoat​

We also had five extra fandom gifts:

“Deputy and Sharky” by @oliviawildesjawline

"Sometimes Love is Not the Best Thing for You" by @bitchmysaladispeople

“Atonement” by @chazz-anova

“An Inconvenient Longing” by @caugustmcmullen

“First Yule” by @refinedstorage

Thank you so much everyone for putting in all this word work!!  Hope you all enjoyed the gifts, and remember to give your love and support to the people who made them!! :) 

#fc5holidayexchange #reveals #day five

[fc5holidayexchange]

Submitted as @refinedstorage​

“FIRST YULE”

Where after seven years in shelter, John Seed and a handful of his faithful followers emerge from his bunker, and reunite with the remnants of Eden’s Gate to celebrate the winter solstice.

Wishing you a beautiful holiday season and a a New Year of peace and happiness!

#alternate universe #john seed #the judge #far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #the junior deputy #eden's gate #gift: art #fandom gift #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

An Inconvenient Longing

T- Rating: mentions of violence.

Hey, hey, Happy Holidays! My beta and I had to co-write some of this, especially the end, because I was running a fever for most of the last two weeks. I hope this is okay.

Rook first thought Joseph Seed only referred to his brothers and counterfeit sister as his family. Father, after all, was a common enough title for a priest. None of the Seeds used social media but some members had profiles hiding in strange little corners of the web. Yet, as the investigation wore on, those rare profiles disappeared. The idea filled Rook with a strange longing to delete their own profiles. What had one of the audio files of Seed's sermons said again?

Our family does not live in the digital cloud, or some bullshit.

Yet, like most mildly inconvenient things, Rook shook the longing off. Marshal Cameron Burke made it even easier to shove the feeling into the back of their mind. A kind description of Burke would be 'dedicated to his job'. Rook mentally deemed him a self-important asshole the moment he waltzed into the station. Still, someone had to arrest the guy.

The strange longing didn't strike Rook again until a few days into the Resistance. As they scouted the Durbman Marina one night, they caught sight of a female cultist kicking a vending machine. Although his gentle whisper could barely be made out over Mrs. Durbman's irate words, a male cultist reacted with strange familiarity. "Sister, calm your wrath, please. What would the Father think?"

The two looked nothing alike, didn't even pass as the same race. Rook watched as the woman relaxed into the touch. They didn't catch her response over the sound of their own heartbeat. They fled the scene, and tried to squash the longing. True, Montana was not Rook's home. The other deputies and Whitehorse were not their family. The other fighters were barely even friends. Still, Rook had a job to do.

Learning new skills became the easiest way to distract themselves. Want to lure a Peggie away from a hostage? Blow up a car nearby. Bow hunting? Well, Rook didn't consider themselves to be much of an outdoors person but ammo and food didn't buy themselves. Want to learn rock climbing? Sure, grappling hooks can be useful. Those ridiculous stunt courses some local hero set up? Why not!

It didn't take long for Rook to start traveling alone. They cleared entire outposts without alerting a soul. The missions turned into a twisted but soothing routine. First, survey the area, choke someone out, drag their body to a dark corner, loose an arrow at someone else, turn off the alarms, and call in the Resistance. Rook suspected that they'd need therapy after this violence but that inconvenient line of thought got pushed down with the longing.

Of course, the Seeds didn't let Rook do this undisturbed. Jacob called it 'playing soldier' and threw them into a red-tinted world of horror. Pratt, poor, downtrodden, equally broken Pratt, told them they shouldn't have come. Boy, did they believe it. Fleeing the north made sense. Faith pulled them into The Bliss twice. Images swirled in Rook's head. The Marshal's leap. Jackalopes. Joseph's Vision. The world covered in ashes. No, not ashes. Nuclear. Fucking. Fall. Out.

Oh Lord, the Great Collapse. 

They moved to into Holland Valley. It only took a few interrupted baptisms, complete with drowned VIPs, and exploded silos for John to take notice. Rook's own baptism came with Bliss sparkles and too little oxygen. They stopped drowning VIPs after their escape.

The people of Fall's End did great things to squash the longing. Welcoming folks, with warm flannel and lukewarm beer. Boomer, a trusty old dog, became Rook's constant companion. The Spread Eagle turned into a place that felt like home. Rook saw themselves fitting right in here, when the dust and gunpowder settled. Not a Montanan by blood or upbringing, but by sheer grit.

It all changed when John took Rook again. It should have been straight forward. Get out, preferably quietly, and get back to Fall's End and Boomer. Rook prepared to jump a man kneeling for prayer. Unfortunately, the longing had other plans. The prayer, a simple 'help me accept these people', struck deep. Despite the fact that these people were doing evil, this one man had nearly pure intentions. 

Rook didn't mean to cry. They went from a crouch to sitting awkwardly on the floor like a child.

The man startled and grabbed his baseball bat. "Hello?" Then, just like that, he was squatting in front of them. "Aren't you the Junior Deputy?"

Rook nodded once.

"My name is Eric. Is Rook your name or just something the sheriff's department calls you?"

"It's my first name, yeah. I picked it myself," they croaked.

Eric took a deep breath, straightened up, and offered his hand. "Let's get you back where you belong before John becomes too wrathful. You'll have to confess to trying to escape."

Rook nodded and followed behind Eric. They ignored the staring eyes of the other Peggies until they got back to the torture room. John came bursting through the door they were about to enter. "Brother John, I found Rook."

Rook watched, fascinated, as the televangelist facade slipped onto John's face. Before he could say anything, they blurted out, "My sin is Envy."

John smile turned dark. "Confessions are private, Brother Eric."

"Good luck, Rook." Rook stepped back into the blood soaked room with John. The door slammed and Rook flinched.

"We'll have to do this on the floor, Deputy, since you destroyed your chair. Sit."

Rook found a spot that was mostly dry and sat ungratefully. With their shirt collar ripped, the room felt cold. "What happens now?"

John knelt beside them with a roll of duct tape. "Legs out straight. I need to make sure you won't escape. You must reach Atonement."

Consenting to it all felt strange. John quickly cocooned Rook's legs in tape, like some redneck mermaid. Unlike Eric, there was no compassion or affection in John's eyes. He seemed excited as he moved his equipment to floor level. The light shined painfully in Rook's eyes. "This isn't meant to be comfortable. Let's start at the beginning."

"Well, I said my sin was Envy."

Rook should have expected the smack but it still stung.

"I mean your beginning, dear Deputy."

***

It took hours of punches, smacks, and swallow cuts for John to accept Rook's rather undramatic life story as truth. He examined everything for truth. Yes, their birthday really was Christmas. No, there's no deep reason why they aren't close to their retired parents anymore. Yes, they'd legally changed their name to Rook when they were 22 and stupid just because they wanted to. Weren't you a lawyer John? Those things are public record. Fuck, there wasn't even a noble reason they moved to Montana and joined the Sheriff's Department. It was just a job.  They were pretty confident they had never spoken about themselves that much. Everything hurt, seven their throat. Satisfied, John stood. "Now, why Envy?"

Through their sore throat, they whispered, "I envy the Project's sense of community." The room fell into a tense silence. Rook closed their eyes, expecting a kick. 

"Why is that a sin, Deputy?" Since they closed their eyes, they only felt John push the ripped fabric of their shirt aside and the tattoo gun buzz to life. "Come on now, open your eyes."

Rook didn't. "Because there's a community in Fall's End that isn't a brutal, murdering, doomsday cult?" The attempt at snark came out weak, with a questioning tone that turned into a painful cough.

"No, Deputy, try again. Surely you can figure it out." The buzzing temporarily stopped. "Hold still. It's not supposed to be only an E."

Rook took a deep breath to stop the coughing fit and raced through every impression they had of the cult and John. What did he want them to say? It was the truth. In those moments of profound loneliness, they could have gone to the jail, or the Whitetail Milita or talked to Father Jerome instead of the dog. As far as they could tell, it was an honest confession. They opened their eyes.

John sighed, then stood again, walking back his tool bench. "Deputy, Deputy, Deputy. Should we add pride as well?"

"Joseph does disappointed better than you." A familiar flash of anger crossed his features, like the moment he almost drowned them. Inspiration hit and the lie tumbled out. "I should have said yes. I could have turned myself in at any time. What I wanted was right there and I was too prideful to say yes. Instead, I fought against what I wanted."

"Are you going to say yes now, Deputy? Will you work towards Atonement?"

"Yes."

***

Rook came out of that bunker with three tattoos: Envy, Pride, and Wrath. John explained the last one for them. "You don't kill that many people without being fueled by anger, Deputy." They hadn't expected to come out at all. Waiting for the Collapse in a cell in an abandoned missile silo seemed fitting somehow. Yet, Joseph wanted to ensure a genuine conversion. Rook moved into the Invidia dorm on his little island with only a single radio announcement of their conversion.

Before returning to the island, Rook assumed Joseph's compound housed some of the elites. Instead, it housed everyday Peggies. Devout, yes, but they weren't major players. The only thing they seemed to have in common was a need for Joseph's direct attention. Many beds were empty. On duty elsewhere or dead, Rook didn't dare ask.

A certain familiarity coursed through the compound. Everyone knew everyone's name. Rook expected the Peggies to use all sorts of cruel nicknames for their newest convert but instead 'sibling' slipped out.

Like he did with most people, Joseph called Rook his child, and, more surprisingly, little lamb. Rook's role appeared to be following him, just like Mary's lamb. Rook wasn't extra security, even though they were trained. They weren't allowed weapons. Part of their conditions of atoning for wrath, according to John. Rook didn't understand why Joseph wanted them near. Part of them longed to know but it terrified them

By day three of prayers, sermons, and the random things like gardening, canning, and laundry, Joseph realized Rook wasn't speaking. The group that didn't have guard shifts were eating lunch. Most sat around a picnic table. Those with prominent Sloth tattoos stood. "I watched the play back of your confession, my child. Did I miss the part where you took a vow of silence?"

It took a moment for Rook to catch that he was teasing. "I--I'm sorry?" A rather unfortunate voice crack and a cleared throat later, they tried again. "I'm sorry. I've never been super talkative. I work alone, usually."

"You aren't alone now," a Peggie said. "You have us."

The words, the lie, slipped out naturally. The longing for it not to be a lie bubbled up but they squashed it. "And I'm thankful for it. I just need time to process this."

"Of course you do." Joseph's sympathetic smile seemed almost genuine.

Things fell into a routine. For two weeks, things stayed peaceful. Rook even let themselves smile and relax around Joseph and the cultists. Simple touches stopped making them flinch. Joseph let them work alone with the others while he prayed. Rook helped wherever they were needed. Weapons were still, regretfully, off limits. Rook understood why, but the lull in action made all the inconvenient thoughts simmer on the surface.

Then, Faith's body washed onto the compound's boat dock. An attempt to take the jail must have gone horribly wrong. Rook had to shut down the part of their brain that enjoyed investigation. Instead, they watched Joseph mourn. Joseph filmed the eulogy alone, just the two of them and a camera on tripod.

Rook stood awkwardly near the door of the Church. "My children, a seal has been open."

Rook quietly stepped outside the church, leaving Joseph to his broadcast. Sitting on the floor, or in this case, the ground, had become an unexpected past time. Rook at for as long as was reasonable and then returned to work.

No new Faith took the mantle but Rook briefly wondered if Joseph meant for them to take the job. He never broached the topic. Joseph withdrew, spending more and more time praying and fasting in the church. Rook made themselves indispensable around compound.

Rook consciously recognized the moment they started believing in the coming Collapse. While waiting for some freshly and taking a break in some shade, it dawned on them. The government didn't react to a Federal Marshal going missing or an entire county going off the map. Hope had decommissioned missile silos. Was that information declassified? Was Hope a target?

Joseph appeared seemingly from nowhere. "My child."

"Father. Forgive my sloth." Rook got to their feet.

"You see now."

"I do." It felt like another confession but they couldn't force out an apology. Something bad coming didn't excuse the kidnapping and murder. Their eyes went to the fence around the property. Despite the longing, they were technically a prisoner.

He did that strange forehead touch. "Child, I have news. Sheriff Whitehorse and Marshal Burke are dead. They were beyond saving."

"Oh." Rook blinked. They expected some inconvenient feelings but nothing came up. It was as if they'd been made blank. "I was only a Deputy for a few months, Father. And, this is an unchristian to say, forgive me, I didn't particularly like Burke. We'd only just met."

"I assumed they were your friends."

"No, Father." Rook didn't feel the need to explain further. "I didn't belong there."

"Do you see where you belong now?" Joseph asked.

"Here?" That longing, inconvenient as it was, surged. Shame came along with it. Murderers, kidnappers, thieves, and Rook wanted to be one of them. Although they would never admit it out loud, they'd been interested in the cult from the beginning.

"Yes, my child. This is your home."

Rook sank into the feeling, the longing finally gone.

#Gender Neutral Junior Deputy #Joseph Seed #John Seed #found Family if you squint #Alternate Universe: Canon Divergence #alternate universe: Rook joins the cult #i implied that the deputy was Non-Binary but it's not directly expressed #a little angsty! #submission #gift: fic #tw: violence #tw: mentions of torture #fandom gift

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

Title - Atonement

Characters - John Seed, Deputy Rook

Pairing - John/Deputy

'The deputy finally agrees to atone, but not for her wrath.'

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this! I hope you like it 💜

Tags: John Seed, Deputy, Smut, Possessive, Domination

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

The moment the deputy stepped across the border that marked the end of the Whitetail Mountains and the beginning of Holland Valley her radio crackled to life, and John Seed’s voice resounded through the speaker, “Deputy… you’ve been playing in Jacob’s region too long. I’m afraid I won’t go so easy on you.”

The woman scoffed, hardly thinking of Judges, kill rooms, and mind control as ‘easy’. Though, she couldn’t help but shiver from hearing the youngest Seed’s voice. She had struggled with an attraction to him the moment she saw him when she came to arrest his older brother, Joseph Seed.

Shortly after John’s voice faded, another replaced it. A man with a rough, gravelly voice said, “It’s deputy hunting season!” and she knew a capture party was coming. 

“Are you fucking serious, already? I haven’t even gotten to have any fun yet!’ She muttered, brushing auburn hair out of her face with an exasperated sigh, and then she was off. Tearing through the woods at a breakneck pace, leaves and branches whipping her cheeks, leaving red and angry scratches.

Rook had been running a couple minutes before she heard the roar of an engine bursting through the underbrush, narrowly avoiding her. She was caught like a deer in the headlights and the peggies yelled in triumph, shouting, “There she is; get her!”

She hopped up and slid over the hood of the car, speeding through the trees once more. Suddenly, she cried out as something embedded in her leg, sharp pain shooting up through the nerves. Then she felt numb, her whole body ignoring the commands from her brain as she toppled over, collapsing in a heap. Her head swam in green smoke and there was nothing but Bliss.

When Rook woke up the first thing she felt were scratchy ropes securing her to a wooden chair. She grunted through a cloth gag, and rocked back and forth testing the strength of her bonds. From a door on the other side of the room, John emerged. He regarded her with a heated look, sauntering over while neatly rolling up his sleeves.

 “Well now… it’s been a moment since we’ve been here together. Do you remember last time, my deputy? Our first official meeting…” He accounted, circling the chair, “You ran away from me that night… ran away to Jacob. Why would you do that to me?” He was suddenly in front of Rook, his hands on either side of her face as he gazed softly into her eyes. Her skin was warm where he touched her, she flinched away at first at the intimacy of it, but was soon compelled to return the look. “You are my deputy, you are mine to bring to atonement. Not Jacob’s.” He whispered harshly, bringing his forehead to hers.

She tried to speak but was inhibited by the gag. John stepped back while removing the white cloth from her mouth. Coughing, Rook licked her lips as moisture returned to her mouth. “I’m not yours,” she finally said, defiance shining in her eyes despite the growing warmth between her legs at his possessiveness. 

The baptist chuckled, shaking his head at her, “Silly girl,” he gripped her chin tightly, forcing her to pay complete attention as he uttered the next sentence, “You’re mine because I want you, and I get what I want.” He released her and paced the room as Rook sat there speechless and concerned as to why her body was screaming that she wanted him too.

When she had nothing to say at his remark, John approached her again, “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen how you look at me- the way your eyes follow my every move. I’m no fool. I bet you’re wet right now, as we speak.” 

Rook’s mouth dropped open and she stuttered out a reply, “Wh- How dare you assume that… besides.. I-I am not!” Her face flushed and she averted her gaze, embarrassed and too proud to admit he was right and that she had wanted him since they met. 

John grinned at her, clasping his hands together, “Well! Then, I’ll make you a deal I think you’ll quite enjoy, deputy... I’ll check if you’re telling the truth or not, and if I’m wrong, you're free to go! But…” He leaned in, murmuring in her ear, “If I’m right, then you will stay and atone for your lust.”

Rook’s face was completely red at this point as she considered her options. ‘Maybe this can be a win-win situation… I get what I’ve been wanting and maybe I can find a way to escape if he undoes these ropes.’ She decided, swallowing as she replied, “Do what you’re going to do then.” She watched his features darken, his expression drowning in lust as he knelt in front of her, undoing the button on her jeans deviously slow as she watched him, her heart racing.

Soon, John had discarded her jeans and smirked as he pulled her plain black panties to the side, caressing her wet slit. She shivered at his touch, her back bowing just the slightest amount. He toyed with her clit, moving his finger in lazy circles over that oh so sensitive bundle of nerves before lifting the glistening digit to his lips and tracing his tongue over it. He took in a slow breath and sighed it out, his eyes fluttering open to take in the scene of his deputy bound at his mercy and clearly loving every moment. 

Rook bit her lip, saying quietly, “I guess I won’t be leaving tonight, will I?” 

Her question was answered by John pulling her panties off swiftly and standing once more, “No, dear, you won’t be.”

He gently tilted up her chin and she felt any inhibitions she had sliding away as he leaned down, capturing her lips in an almost chaste kiss before saying, “Stick your tongue out.” Rook obeyed, and he dragged her panties across her tongue so she could sample her own wetness, “Can you taste how badly you want me?” He asked, grinning as she nodded up at him, “Good girl… let’s get started.” A devilish look filled his cold blue eyes.

“To be sure you can atone, you must show me you can worship properly,” he explained, attending to her ropes with skilled fingers. At this point, Rook felt so eager; his attention was something she had desired since that first night in the church. It was almost as if he knew from that moment the thoughts that had tortured her. Finally, he freed her and pointed down saying, “Get on your knees.” 

She did as he grabbed something off a workbench sitting in the shadows of the dimly lit room. When he moved to stand in front of her once more she saw it was a cream colored collar with the cross of the Project printed on it. John smiled sweetly as he clasped it around her neck, “I had this specifically made for you, for this moment.” He took a silver chain and connected it to the collar before hurriedly undoing the belt and button on the front of his jeans. Once he had, Rook reached up and pulled them down along with the black and grey briefs he was wearing. John’s breath caught in his throat as she revealed him in his full glory, already stiff for her. The deputy was stunned briefly, seeing his size and comparing it to her various daydreams. He looked down, tugging her forward by the leash, “Worship,” he commanded her, voice hoarse with need.

Rook took him between her lips, sucking gently before taking his shaft down her throat, lips almost meeting the end of him. John was definitely sizable - not too big nor too small, but thicker than average. The deputy was determined to make him feel good and soon enough fell into a rhythm - bobbing her head up and down over the length of him all while sucking. Above her John quivered and kept a hand on the back of her head, pushing her back down every time her head came up. Her tongue danced along the sensitive skin, making him gasp more and more until he bundled up the chain in his hand and yanked it back, catching her off guard. His eyes looked wild as he looked her up and down and thought of everything he wanted to do to her in that moment.

After a few seconds, he spoke and led her back to the chair, “So you’re skilled in the art of worship, but to atone you must also have exquisite self control. Take a seat.”

Rook gazed at him, lids heavy with lust as she sat down wondering what was to come. John gently caressed her legs, spreading them to line up with the legs of the chair and grabbing the rope he had discarded earlier, wrapping it around her ankles.

The deputy stiffened, murmuring “John-” before he cut her off, staring intently into her eyes.

“Do you trust me?” Obviously the answer should be an immediate ‘no’, but as she looked into his eyes full of need, she found herself nodding and back to work he went.

A few minutes later she was bound to the chair again, this time by her ankles.

“As I was saying… control is of the utmost importance.” John smiled and trailed a finger down her jawline before walking to the workbench again. He returned with an expensive looking wand style vibrator and a blush crept up Rook’s face again. He approached and used the last bit of rope to secure the device to her thigh, positioning it directly on her clit and leaning back to admire his work. “Beautiful…” He murmured, standing up, “Now, my dear, I’m going to switch this on and you must obey my every order.” 

Rook nodded nervously and he flicked the switch. Warmth spread from between her legs as the quiet rumble from the vibrator filled the room, eliciting a few quiet moans from her, ”For this test, you are not allowed to cum. No matter how badly you may want to.” 

The deputy smiled, speaking breathlessly, “No... problem!” 

Nodding, John replied, “That’s what I hoped you might say,” and he reached down to the switch and turned it up a few notches. When he did, the vibration intensified and Rook gasped, moaning lewdly as her clit vibrated with pleasure. After a few slow minutes, her forehead was beaded with sweat and her back arched, the vibrator doing its dirty work. She started panting as pleasure built in her body, the steady vibration threatening to push her over the edge.

“Remember, you must have control.” John chided her and moved behind the chair, leaning down to gently kiss her neck, sucking lightly in all the right places. He licked a line up to her earlobe, biting it gently and whispering in her ear, “You only cum when I tell you you’re allowed.”

She made a desperate noise, fighting the growing need as she started to grind against the vibrator. John kept teasing her with kisses and bites on either side of her neck, moving her head with the leash.

This went for another quarter of an hour- John slowly turning the setting on the vibrator up each time she was about to orgasm, then he told her 'not yet'. At this point, the deputy was drenched in sweat and soaked between the legs. She bucked against the slick head of the vibe, crying out over and over, “P-Please, John… I’ll confess any sin you want, please just let me cum! I can’t take it any longer!” She pleaded with him, a slight whine in her voice. 

A throaty chuckle came from the baptist and he stroked her thigh, which only made matters worse. After an unbearable few seconds, he finally nodded, saying, “Well, since you asked so nicely… I suppose, cum for me deputy!” After he said this, Rook began to quake; she almost couldn’t catch her breath as he turned the device to its highest setting and watched her turn into a mess of moans. After waiting so long, she was pushed over the brink and came screaming. When she was done, she slumped in her seat, panting while John removed the vibrator and kissed her softly, “You did so well, I’m pleased! There’s only one more step before atonement, my dear”.

"And what would that be?"

"Testing your endurance!" He replied with a wicked grin, undoing her ropes.

"I think I can take anything you want to throw at me!" She said breathlessly, standing up on shaking legs as he moved over to steady her before stealing a deep, unexpected kiss. The pair made their way to the floor and Rook straddled him quickly, lining up his length with her entrance.

"I'm assuming I know what this endurance test will be…" She whispered, tossing her hair back and teasing him by sliding just the tip in, relishing in his quiet moan. He nodded wordlessly in reply, grabbing her hips and lowering her down all the way until he was sheathed completely. John threw his head back as he was enveloped by the warmth and wetness of her, something he had fantasized about for a long time.

Soon, they were moving in tandem - the deputy grinding her hips in small circles over him as he kept his hands on her hips and thrust in and out at varying speeds. Her hands raked down his chest as another long moan of pleasure escaped her, leaving scratches down to his stomach while she bounced in his lap.

John felt himself coming closer and closer to his breaking point watching his deputy languish in the pleasure he was giving her. He moved a hand from her hip and gripped her ass, pulling her hips forward and thrusting into her forcefully, causing her to lean over on top of him and kiss him, barely stifling her gasps. He opened his mouth slightly and her tongue slid against his, circling it before she moved away a fraction to bite his lower lip, drawing a few drops of blood.

When Rook sat back up and kept bouncing, John sat up with her and wrapped his arms around her torso. Rook was gasping, unable to even form a coherent thought at this point as she stuttered out, "I-I'm so… close!" And nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder and he nearly lifted them off the ground with the force of his thrusts. A moment later, white fire consumed the deputy's vision and she threw her head back, screaming as she came for the second time. She tightened around the length of him and felt him release as well, both of them a puddle of moans and pleasure.

Once she rolled off him, they both collapsed on the floor gasping for breath, "Fuck." She shook her head and struggled to regain her composure.

"My sentiments exactly…" John sat up, finding his own clothes before tossing hers over and saying triumphantly, "I'm sure Joseph will be pleased to learn you've completed your atonement… you can rest here until I return." He kneeled next to her and they shared another passionate kiss before he gave her a wink and left the room.

Only then did she remember she was being held captive and that escaping had been the main point of all this, "Oh, shit! Well.. Time to get a move on!" She pulled on her clothes and fixed her hair, looking around at the sparse room and concocting her escape.

'What an eventful day!' She thought to herself as she slipped through the hallway of John's bunker, excited to see what challenges would face her now.

#john seed #deputy #smut #domination #possessive #submission #john seed/deputy #nsftumblr #gift: fic #fc5holidayexchange

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 [FIC]

‘Sometimes Love is Not the Best Thing for You’

Faith Seed x Deputy Jada Hale, Sharky Boshaw, Boomer, Jess Black (mentioned), Grace Armstrong (mentioned)

Happy Holidays!! I loved writing your OC, and I really hope I brought her to life as well as you deserve–and that you enjoy it, most importantly! :) The title is from the song Darlin’ by Goodbye June.

[Hope County really was the most beautiful place she’d ever been. She couldn’t deny it, she doubted if anyone could deny it either. Every part of it was stunning.

The Holland Valley was lush, crawling with life and opportunity, and if it hadn’t been stained in blood and viscera, Jada could see herself kicking back in a lawn chair once or twice, chewing the fat with whoever happened to pass by. Maybe she’d have attended a church barbecue in the sticky heat of summer just so she could spend the whole thing hanging out with Grace. She knew that fire had forged her friendship with the sharpshooter, but she liked to think that if things’d been more casual, they would’ve gotten close anyways. She liked to think that about all her friends. 

She even liked bickering with John-he scared her a bit less than his brothers, made her angrier at times and sobered her at others. For all he was an evil, irritating bastard, he was human enough, and she was sure that if there wasn’t a war going they would have had a similar relationship. Snipping back and forth, fighting like cats and dogs. 

Really, though, even putting the people aside for a second, the valley was gorgeous. 

So were the mountains, despite the tension in the Soldier’s region and the horrors she’d faced there. She didn’t have much time to sightsee, but even when she was busy raising hell, the unwavering mountains had stared down at her, seeming really unbothered by all the bloodshed. The untouched snow on the high peaks in the distance was still white, even when everything south of them was stained red. 

In a less stressful time, Jess would’ve taken her hunting on the tricky slopes, shown her all the best footpaths. She could’ve spent hours like that, doing nothing with a good friend without needing a reason to do it, all while enjoying the crisp air and the pretty scenery.

But despite the glory of the valley and the majesty of the mountains, Jada definitely had a favorite region, and it was without question the Henbane.

There was a lot to do and see down by the Henbane river, but as much as she denied it and made her excuses, the one thing that took her breath away more than anything was the very reason she was in the region in the first place. She couldn’t help it; Faith Seed was more heady and ridiculously unfair than any cloud of bliss could ever manage to be. She was prettier than the lushest valley, and she was as dangerous and impossibly pure as the untouched snow on top of the highest mountain.

Maybe it was dramatic–sure, everyone she knew would mock her ruthlessly if she ever dared to voice any of those feature-film worthy thoughts–but Jada couldn’t help it. She should’ve been angrier at Faith than any of Joseph’s whackjob youth pastors, but she couldn’t even work herself into a slight frenzy where the Seed sister was concerned. Jada cared about her, wanted her to do better than her adoptive brothers. The fact that Faith Seed was as bad a choice as bad choices got, and that she was probably getting a Bliss overdose, didn’t stop her from stumbling right back into the bed she’d started in.

Faith was asleep, curled up into her side. Jada wondered, while idly playing with soft strands of blonde hair, if she was dreaming about a glorious conversion. If she was dreaming that she was leading Jada up the path to righteousness; their hands clasped together as they smiled, trotting towards Joseph like a pair of lovebirds ready to breach the gates to the garden. It was a funny picture, if a terrifying one. Jada didn’t like to think about what would happen if Joseph found out about his sister’s heretical…indiscretions.

She wasn’t the first woman to bear the name Faith Seed. Jada found out, felt consumed by a sense of hope and a powerless drive to share that information. To say: “Here, Rachel, I know what he’s done; you have to get out of here.”

So she’d done just that, because, again, she hadn’t had a choice. She was pulled back into the Bliss as if on a string, and she’d delivered herself to the siren with a fistful of letters and little else. The frenzy in her eyes, the half-crazed insistence in her words…it hadn’t made the difference she’d hoped it would. After she’d finished, Faith had brushed the evidence out of her hands and laughed, giving her a tight hug. The arms that wrapped around her brought forth Faith’s signature Bliss perfume; made Jada’s head spin and her knees weak. Maybe it wasn’t just the Bliss–she was getting more used to that. In all likelihood, the jelly-feeling in her legs was probably coming from Faith herself. Honestly, Jada doubted she’d ever get used to that, and that scared her even more than the Father himself.

“I know, silly,” Faith giggled, almost chided, like she was talking to her fondest friend. She cupped Jada’s face in her hands. “It’s different. I was made to be Faith Seed. The fact that you’re here is proof of that.” Jada’s tongue had been stupid and hard to control, and in a rush of anger about being so stupid as to think he hadn’t brainwashed her that far, it’d spat something out she now wished it hadn’t. 

“What if the fact I’m here is proof you shouldn’t be?” She said quickly, the urgency still lingering. She still had hope that things could change. That she could break through the parts of her that Joseph had blocked off and finally have Faith–or Rachel, or whoever she really was–in full. “You can be better than this,” she added, a little breathless, caught in eyes that went on forever. Eyes that, for once, didn’t look sympathetic or condescending. She felt like she was looking through time, back at Rachel Jessop. Before Joseph had gotten to her, when she was empty and in need of something.

It wouldn’t last forever, because Faith wasn’t just someone empty who needed to be filled up with love. She was full of horrible toxic shit; the stuff Joseph had crammed down her throat until she was full of it. She needed to be lanced–the poison needed to be drained–but in that moment, Jada’s empathy was enough to tamp down everything else; it was enough to make the girl warm for a second.

That moment was enough to keep Jada there, relaxed, unarmed and waiting. She really wanted Faith to be free and happy, and that was what was going to kill her.

This time, she was safe. This time, the girl inside the siren had welled up and nearly spilled out; she was so desperate to crawl to the genuine kindness offered. Not the slippery snake-oil kindness offered by Joseph and his ilk, but a real, desperate need for things to be better, for her to feel loved. Jada felt like she was nothing but a pit of extremes, and her drive for vengeance and dominion over the Seeds was exchanged–in Fatih’s case–for endless second chances and silly hope.

Faith was still a human being; she had a lot of things about her that made her perfect for the charming, surface-level perks of Eden’s Gate. She was kind, sweet; she sought recovery and help for her followers, she kissed like an angel and wrapped her arms around Jada and told her she could be so much more, too.

Jada was used to talking in violence and conflict, but Faith spoke a different language. Around her, at least. It was softer, but it hurt a lot worse. She whispered butterfly kisses down Jada’s neck and screamed so sweetly underneath her. So loud, so sweet, she thought it sounded almost like church bells.

If there was any niggling doubt that Joseph was just playing her through Faith’s false love, the way they were when they were together really dispelled it for Jada. There was no way that could be faked, especially not when Faith looked at her like she was the world. For once, she didn’t spout off a quote from the mad prophet or a sob story or blow Bliss into her face. She just looked at her, smiled, and whispered three little words. Jada never said them back, but it didn’t matter. The absence of three little words didn’t mean shit when she kept running back like she didn’t care if it would kill her as long as she got to Faith one last time.

It was pathetic, and if anyone she knew were more in the know about it, they’d agree. They already had some idea–Jess’s blank look whenever Jada said she was going back to the Henbane; Sharky always worrying about where she was going when she ran off in a hurry. She was nearly crippled by her fear of disappointing them, of letting the resistance down. 

Not crippled enough to resist making her way back to the river, though.

Faith stirred in her arms, sighing awake as she nestled closer. 

“You’re thinking,” she whispered. Even scratchy, her voice was sweet. “I can hear it.”

“I’m always thinking,” Jada mumbled, moving to trace patterns on Faith’s bare shoulder. “I think Sharky and I should burn down some Bliss this weekend. A few fields. Then, if we’re up for it, maybe we’ll set up a sniper’s nest and start picking off–” Faith hushed her, the sound coming as an exhausted breath as she pressed a small kiss to Jada’s collarbone. “I remember when I first saw you. In the church. I remember when Joseph told me you were more than the snake. I was so happy.” “See, and I just wondered what a pretty girl like you was doing with a family like yours.” She laughed, and Jada felt accomplished; the nasty attempts at lashing out smothered in her chest, dead on her lips. Faith was just too damn sweet, her laugh was angelic. Everything they said about her…it was all true. The good things, at least. 

“I wonder, too, what you’re doing with all those boys in the sheriff’s department. With Charlemagne Boshaw. They’re no good, Jada. They’re bringing you down.” “See, you think my family sucks, I think your family sucks…wanna just cut and run?” Jada’s thumb traced down Faith’s soft cheek. The words were dead things that smelled sweet. Nothing would happen. Nothing would come of them. Faith still smiled to hear them, and Jada smiled back.

“Do you want to run?” Faith asked, craning her neck to look at her properly. “I thought you were stubborn to the end.” “Well, yeah. I can be stubborn about different things, though. I could be stubborn about you, about getting you out. We could start our own little cult, a cult of two. We’ll just sit around all day and worship each other.”

“That sounds good,” Faith agreed. She didn’t say anything about heresy, about her purpose–for a minute, they were just quiet. All either heard was the other’s breathing and it was nice just to be like that. Almost like they were people. But they weren’t; they were a siren and a deputy, so the moment they had–like every other one they had–passed.

“Maybe,“ Faith proposed, in a small, low voice, “I’m in this family so that I can bring you into the flock.” Jada closed her eyes, brow furrowed. “Does there have to be a holy reason? Can it just be?” “It already is. You can do good, Jada. You want to, desperately. If you let us help you, if you let yourself see…”

There goes the pillow talk. Anger welled in the deepest part of her throat, and strained her words.

“Does nothing I showed you matter? He killed those women. What makes you any different?”

There was a small moment of silence, and then Faith was slipping away. Jada closed her eyes, already nursing the sting of losing another battle, when the warmth beside her moved and a weight settled above her. Jada opened her eyes and all she saw was Faith–the Siren, Rachel–straddling her hips and staring down at her. 

Her mouth was dry, and she swallowed, resisting the urge to gasp when Faith’s too-cold fingers grazed her ribcage. 

“The difference?” Faith asked, and her eyes shone. She smiled slightly; she looked entirely too serene for the places her hands were moving to, and she leaned down close, hair falling and veiling them both from the world. 

Just shy of a kiss, she whispered something else, and Jada had no chance to respond to it before their mouths touched. And then that was it. She had a war to fight, but that evening, she lost one more battle. They things they did together were sweet, left Jada weak as a kitten. Usually, it would have left her satisfied and comfortable, but not this time. This time, when Faith collapsed breathing heavy, Jada stared at the ceiling and felt hollow inside. 

She couldn’t not wrap her arms around Faith; she had to, because she was there. That, and parts of her still believed that a tighter embrace had more of a chance of changing anything. She closed her eyes tightly again, felt white noise behind her eyes but kept the tears in. Faith fell asleep, and Jada held her as long and as tight as she could.

When the sun poked up above the purple horizon the following morning, she absconded; she peeled herself away from Faith’s warmth and her sweet Bliss smell and her kisses, her smile, and her eyes.

Boomer was waiting right outside the door, and barked at her as she woke him up. She shushed him, hopping on one foot and then the other to pull her boots on. She felt like a teenager, and he was tattling on her. Only worse; she was trying to escape her enemy, who she might’ve fucked again. 

No one stopped them as they slipped back into the forest. If anyone saw, it was one of those “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” things. It was always like that, even when she finally made it back to the jail. The sheriff nodded, said he had a job for her. Said something about a jacked-up moose-judge in the woods, but she wasn’t really listening. She’d get it done.

Some of the freedom fighters were oblivious. A few weren’t, and they looked at her funny. They trusted her; they doubted the rumors, but were almost waiting for her to blow herself up while professing her love for Faith Seed and the Father and all that jazz.

She didn’t. Don’t ask, don’t tell.

Later, she and Sharky were clomping through the forest, and she almost had her mind off of things. She was busy looking at a set of tracks while Boomer barked at nothing–Should’ve brought peaches–when he broke the rule.

“Chica,” he began cautiously. “You…being smart?” She froze up at that. Sharky Boshaw was possibly the second biggest dumbass in the county, second only to Hurk. He was the one who told her to throw the pipe bomb and take two steps back; he carried a flamethrower around and blared disco to attract angels. He didn’t question whether or not she was making good choices.

“I’m on your side,” she snapped; a bit too harsh and abrupt. She looked up to see him nodding, as troubled as she’d ever seen him. 

“Alright, dude, sorry. Just…shit.”

“…yeah.” She sighed, closing her eyes for a minute. “It’s not gonna happen again.” “How many times is that now?” “I haven’t been counting.” “Betcha she has.” She gave him a sharp look, and he held his hands up, defensively. 

“Look, I get it,” he said, “but you of all people know she’s bad news. I don’t want you to get hurt. Feelings, or…other. Y’know?” She deflated a bit, felt bad for being defensive at all. What the fuck are you doing? He should have said. Stop fucking the mass murderer. It sounded so easy in her head.

“Yeah,” she said, voice thin, and after a too-long pause. “I know.” And she did. 

“The difference?” Faith had repeated, after Jada asked her about her predecessors. She’d come so close that the words were just for them; they were so low, so intimate that no God above could’ve heard them.

“The difference is that I won’t fail.”

That confidence had driven Jada out of bed that morning, made her swear off the Seeds entirely, and for good. 

Sharky sensed that she was thinking too hard, and huffed. “Look, use ‘em, abuse ‘em, lose ‘em, right? Girl power. Kinda hot to picture, too, I mean–” “Shut the fuck up.” “Yep, yep yep yep. Let’s go start a forest fire.” Very confidently, he started off in the completely wrong direction, and she felt an unbidden smile tug on her lips. Sharky was dumb as bricks, but he might’ve been the smartest guy she knew. She started off after him, content to spend an afternoon on a simple hunt-and-kill mission. In the front of her brain, she tried not to think of it. Pushed it away; Faith was gone with everything else.

Except she wasn’t. She was still there, and Jada thought about the letters, the evidence, the truth. She’d offered Faith everything. She’d offered her anywhere else and as much love as she had; she’d slipped between her warm thighs and laid it out bare. Dozens of times, sure, but this time had felt different. Because everything she had wasn’t enough; she didn’t compare to Joseph and Eden and war and death and suffering.

She believed that Faith loved her; she’d said it often enough. She’d softened into a human under Jada’s keen eye. But Jada was quickly coming to the realization that it might not have been enough. Something felt settled. Something felt finished.

But Jada was still a fucking fool at heart, and Faith had called it; she was stubborn to the end. And while a growing part of her suspected that particular end would be a lot more painful than sneaking out of bed at sunrise, the rest of her wasn’t about to give up on anyone or anything worth fighting for. For what had to be the hundredth time, she hatched a brand new plan for bringing Faith home. She also steamrolled the familiar voice in her head that promised her it was a lost cause. 

It didn’t matter, because she was gonna fix the county, and Rachel Jessop just had the misfortune of living there and being as sweet and hot as she was crazy. 

Boomer came to trot beside her, and barked at her, like he was judging her for her decision.

“Oh, what do you know?” She grumbled, notching an arrow as the moose came into her sights. “You’re a dog.” So are you, Boomer’s sweet, judgemental eyes seemed to say. We both come when we’re called.

Or maybe she was projecting. She let her arrow loose, and decided not to worry about it for a while.]

#faith seed/deputy oc #faith seed #deputy oc #gift: fic #fc5holidayexchange #implied/referenced smut #fluff #mild angst #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

Hey everyone! We have five gifts remaining that unfortunately cannot be gifted to people, but because of the talent and effort that went into creating these gifts, we have decided they should be posted as a gift to the fandom and everyone who participated in this exchange.

Please show these gifts as much love and support as possible! 

#update #reveals

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 ART

Deputy and Sharky i hope you like it !! happy holidays *:･ﾟ✧ (hd version)

#fc5holidayexchange #sharky boshaw #sharky boshaw/deputy #deputy oc #gift: art #fluff #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

Far Cry 5 Holiday Exchange 2019 Fic

“it’s just a matter of time until we’re all found out” Female Deputy/John Seed @unclefungusthegoat Here’s my gift for the exchange! I had a ton of fun working on it- especially in trying to keep the Deputy generic while writing her as a person. I hope the formatting’s okay- tumblr has a tendency to wreck my posts. Deputy/John Seed, enemies to friends to lovers, alcohol use, mentions of abuse, secret love affair 

John Seed’s grave is a simple one. There are no flowers or adornments, just his name crookedly scratched into a wooden cross. The Deputy thinks she might be the only one who visits, thinks she might be the only one who understands that John Seed was more than the monster they wanted to make him out to be. Knows that the Resistance, or what was left of it, would never forgive her if they’d know how carefully she’d crafted the simple grave or how often her feet kept coming back, let alone the other things she’d done after she’d stepped into this strange, new world.

Even now. Even years after the Collapse, when Joseph was holed up with his New Eden and she’d stopped being known as Deputy and started being known as Judge before she abandoned even that. 

She’s never admitted that she wears the Judge’s mask even now to keep from having to look them in the eye. Pastor Jerome, the Rye family…she knows none of them would understand. It just makes it all the more bitter, really. They had been friends, once. Some of them still thought they were. 

She doesn’t even think Joseph knows where the grave is. She’d never told him, down in the bunker, and he’d never asked to see it. —

Their first meeting, off the record as it was, had been an accident. There was a spot, in the woods of the Holland Valley, with an old two-room cabin. It was shabby and old, falling apart even then. The Deputy hadn’t had the faintest clue about fixing one up so all she’d managed to do was patch the roof to keep the rain off of her when she went there to hide. 

And hide she did, with all the whiskey bottles she could carry. There was something especially soothing about sitting in that rickety old rocker on the porch, watching it rain a few feet away from her, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a bottle of whiskey or vodka or scotch or whatever else she could find cradled in her hands. 

She hadn’t realized she wasn’t the only one who visited the cabin. She’d been sitting there one day, watching the rain. The whiskey bottle had been mostly forgotten- she wasn’t even tipsy yet. And then, out of the woods, came John Seed, his jacket pulled over his head to try to keep the rain off. 

He didn’t notice her until he was standing on that rickety old porch, shrugging out of that coat of his. She just stared at him, fingers curled loosely around the neck of the bottle she was holding. And he’d just stared at her, like he couldn’t quite believe who he was looking at. 

And then, instead of a white flag, she’d held out the bottle of whiskey, and he’d taken it, wordlessly. He’d sat down in the other rickety old rocker, pulled it closer so they could pass the drink back and forth between them, and they’d sat in silence until it stopped raining. 

Neither of them really drank much, though.

—

Their second meeting had also been accidental. This time, John had already been there when the Deputy arrived, half out of breath from the hike there. He’d given her a nod of acknowledgement and after a moment she seated herself in her usual rocker. 

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she remembers waking up with a blanket draped across her and John Seed’s jacket folded under her head like a pillow. 

—

They don’t speak until their fourth meeting together. It is far too cold, that night, for them to sit outside, and so when John had arrived at the cabin, she was inside, putting wood into the old fireplace. Wordlessly, John had knelt down beside her and started helping. 

Half an hour later, they are sitting on the blankets in front of the roaring fire. The Deputy had given up the alcohol she used to carry, had turned it all into molotovs to burn the shrines littered around. Instead, she’s picked up smoking. It gives her something to do with her hands when the silence is overwhelming and when she mindlessly offers the cigarette to John he takes a drag before passing it back. 

And just like that they’re sharing a cigarette and watching the fire dance. It is quiet and peaceful and they have both forgotten, for the moment, that there is a veritable war waging in Hope County. 

“Why?” John asks, after the cigarette has burned down and she’d snuffed it out on the old wood floor. 

He doesn’t specify, but she doesn’t need him to. 

“I give so much to the Resistance. I understand why they need it- Joseph…look, I know he’s your brother, but he doesn’t give people a choice and I can’t let him get away with it. Everyone deserves a choice on their own terms. But…there’s only so much I can give before there’s nothing left,” she says, and from the way John shifts and pulls his blanket tighter around him, she knows he understands.

“It’s why I come here,” he says, and then they’re silent until the fire burns out and she gets up to leave. 

—

Days pass before they see each other again. After a particularly difficult outpost that she finally liberated, she retreats to the little cabin to lick her wounds. 

She didn’t want the Resistance or the Peggies to see her hurt. To see her weak. She doesn’t think about why she comes here, to this particular little cabin where she knows John Seed comes. 

Instead, she starts to methodically start a fire and put an old dented bucket full of water over it to boil. She doesn’t think- and desperately hopes she won’t- need stitches. The bullets had only grazed her side and while it hurt like a bitch it wouldn’t kill her. Probably. 

Hopefully. 

She’s in the middle of cleaning it when she hears the front porch creak. She tenses, for a moment, but her hands keep cleaning the wound as best as she can. She can’t reach it very well and it hurts badly enough that she wants to give up and throw the gauze away. Her hands are shaking, too, maybe from shock. 

And then, just when she thinks she can’t do it for another second, there’s another set of hands on hers, coaxing her into letting go. She hisses through her teeth at the sting as John slowly and carefully cleans her side. 

Wordlessly, he picks up the bandages from the open med-kit in front of her and starts to wrap them around her. He never wavers, his eyes not leaving the wound. 

She wishes, for a moment, that he was being awful. That he was deliberately hurting her or staring at her as she sits in nothing but a bra or even trying to cop a feel. But he wasn’t. He was being kind and careful and gentle and it made it incredibly hard to hate him as he taped the bandages in place. 

He looks up, meeting her eyes. Wordlessly, he takes her blanket and wraps it around her shoulders. 

Later, she’ll wonder what it meant. 

—

The next time they meet, it is raining. It’s a warm rain, gently pattering against the rusty tin roof. She sits quietly in her blanket, a warm cup of tea held loosely in her hands. John sits in the other rocker, as silent as she is. 

It is a welcome moment of quiet after a week or more of constant, exhausting struggles. Arguments with Dutch and the Resistance when they didn’t agree with her desire to help the cultists overcome their indoctrination, small but grating comments on her tactics that she heard until she felt like she was going to explode. 

For once, it is easy to let her mind slip away and wander. She thinks about the world outside Hope County and how distant it feels now. Thinks about the gun she saw in the shop in Fall’s End that she wants and starts planning how she’s going to modify it. Thinks about Boomer and wonders how soon she’ll need to get more dog food for him or if she should just bite the bullet and start cooking meat for him. Thinks about how she might go about making a new collar for Boomer and other small tasks that she just wants to do. 

She only stirs when the rain stops, glancing at the watch she always wears for the time. It’s getting late enough that somebody will start to wonder about her sooner or later and she doesn’t want to risk them finding the small little cabin. 

She rises from the chair, putting the tea that had grown cold on the porch rail, she hears a quiet snore from John. She freezes in place, half out of the chair, and her eyes dart to him. 

He’s peaceful, in his sleep. She hadn’t realized how much he worried until she saw him relaxed. His blanket had ridden down to his lap, piled up. Before she can stop herself, she reaches over, pulling it up to his shoulder. John doesn’t move, save for the soft rise and fall of his chest. 

She wonders what he would think if he knew she was standing here, watching him sleep. Was it creepy? She would probably think it was if she wasn’t doing the watching. 

But then…this was reminding her, more than anything, that John Seed was a man instead of a monster. Mary May and Nick Rye and everybody else could talk about how evil and sadistic he was all they wanted. 

She didn’t have to believe them. Carefully, she folds her blanket up, sliding it under his head like a pillow. She leaves him there after a long moment spent looking at him and marveling at what she saw. 

She’ll think about it long after she’s left the cabin. 

—

The next time she sees him, it is in his bunker. Joey Hudson sits across from her, eyes angry and pleading and sad and sorry all at once. 

She can’t quite bring herself to look at John, so she keeps her eyes on Joey. What would her fellow deputy think if she knew? 

When John asks who will go first, she answers immediately. If Joey went first, if she found out…she couldn’t let John hurt her, either. Couldn’t bear to sit alone in the dark and think about what might be happening to her. So, selfishly, she says yes. 

And she tries not to think about the slow smile that spreads across his face when she does. 

—

She escapes, because that’s what she’s good at. As much as she wanted to say yes, she knows the Resistance needs her. Knows that, despite their shared and stolen moments, she and John are on opposite sides. 

She doesn’t know why the cabin is the first place she goes. She isn’t surprised, either, when John stalks in a few hours later. The look he gives her is scathing. She braces herself. 

“You could have killed yourself!” John hisses, and she’s left blinking at him. She had expected anger at her escape, not concern for her safety. 

“The Resistance needs me, John. I- I can’t,” she says, voice weak, because she has to convince herself before she can convince him. 

“The Collapse is coming, Deputy. I just- I want you to come out on the other side of it,” he says with, a long and slow exhale. 

Cautiously, carefully, she reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder. She feels like she’s on the edge of a cliff. She feels like she is about to fall. 

She thinks she might jump instead. 

—

They start talking more, after that. At first, she had cautiously asked John to tell her more. 

About the cult. About the Collapse. About what he believed in and what he didn’t and why. And then he’d told her about his childhood. 

She only knew John Seed, had never known John Duncan, but there was something scared and vulnerable in his eyes when he told her. She reaches out, a hand on his shoulder. 

“You didn’t deserve that,” she says, and means it. 

She thinks something changes between them, that night. 

—

The weather forecast calls for a week of freezing rain. It is fall, in Hope County, and everyone knows she can’t fight a cult in the rain. She tells her friends not to worry and heads up into the woods. When the weather clears, she promises, she’ll be back. 

John’s already waiting in the cabin when she gets there. He’s got a fire going and wood stockpiled by the door. He’s sitting in front of the fire- he’d brought a pile of blankets and pillows and spread them out into a comfortable looking nest. 

She kicks her shoes off, dropping her backpack by the door. Quietly, she pads over to John and drops down next to him. 

He has a cup of tea waiting for her. She takes it, gratefully and wordlessly. The warmth from the fire suffuses her and for the first time since the helicopter crash, she can relax. 

She’s asleep before her head hits his shoulder.

—

He only wakes her up to lay her down on the blankets, a pillow under her head. He lays down next to her and she’s only aware of the warmth she curls into. 

—

Eventually, the rain stops. They both know they cannot hide from the world forever- John has his family and she has the Resistance. 

They don’t speak as they pack their things. John leaves the blankets and pillows in the cabin- they both know they’ll be back soon enough. 

It’s bittersweet. They both know that outside the cabin they will go back to what they were. To enemies. To opposite sides of a war neither of them wanted to fight. 

How she wishes she could just say yes. Could just give in. Could just go home and run away from Hope County and let it be someone else’s problem, but she’s never been the type to run when people needed her and if anyone had ever needed her it was now. 

She doesn’t look at him, either, as she packs. Until, right before she heads for the door, he grabs her by the arm. There’s a long moment where they stare at each other, silently. A thousand unsaid things lay between them. 

“Be careful,” he says, eventually, his voice gruff. When he lets go of her it is reluctantly and she forces herself through the door without looking back. 

She knows if she did she wouldn’t ever leave.

— 

A cold spell hits and the Resistance and the cult both slow down. Neither of them are needed that much and so it is easy for them to disappear. The first day, they gather firewood together. Enough to last them the duration of the cold spell, until it warms up in a week or so. Enough that they can just stay together until they can’t anymore. 

She brought more whiskey and this time they drink it. She has a hold on it more than he does, doesn’t want to give him the option of slipping back into old habits. He’d told her about his old addictions when he’d told her about the Duncan family and she didn’t want him to fall back into it. She knew how easy it was, to slip into old habits like that. 

“You know what I miss,” she announces, unceremoniously, once the whiskey is warm in her stomach and the fire is warm next to her and John is sitting across from her. 

“What do you miss?” he asks, a faintly amused smile on his face. 

“I miss movies. I can’t find any good ones in Hope County and I just…I miss being able to curl up with a blanket and a hot cup of tea and just…watch a movie,” she says. She doesn’t say that she wants to watch movies with him, curled up against his side, head on his chest. 

“Joseph wanted them confiscated,” he admits. She groans, rolling her eyes. 

“Older brothers are no fun,” she says, and John can’t help but laugh. 

—

Too soon, the cold snap breaks and the air warms back up. They leave the cabin, reluctantly. Neither one of them want to. 

Soon enough, though, they’re back. They always come back. To the cabin, to each other. To this small, sheltered place, where the rest of the world ceases to exist as soon as they cross the threshold. 

This time, John has a big bag he holds out to her. When she opens it, she finds it is full of movies. Old VHS tapes and DVDs alike. 

“There’s more, if you make your way through those,” he starts to say, but she cuts him off. She launches herself at him, arms wrapping around him in a hug with a small squeal of delight. 

He laughs, his arms coming down to wrap around her.

That’s when she realizes she’s in too deep, that she will never be able to stop caring about John Seed. That she will never see him as the monster the Resistance does.

—

Days after John gave her the movies, the Deputy finds herself laid up in bed. Nick Rye is kind enough to give her a spare bed in their house- he drags a tiny television in and sets it up at the foot of the bed, shifting the crib around. She tries to come up with an excuse to stay somewhere else, but the baby isn’t born yet and Nick and Kim won’t hear it. 

So that’s how she finds herself watching through the movies John gave her, bandages wrapped around her stomach and her right thigh and her left arm. The gunfight she’d gotten in had been a bad one and she’d ended up taking more than one bullet for a civilian the cult had captured. 

It takes weeks to recover. She does most of it on her own- fumbles to change her bandages, struggles up and down the stairs in the Rye house to the bathroom. Kim just thought she was going stir-crazy, gave her small sympathetic smiles whenever she caught her eye. But she wanted to be back at the cabin. Wanted it to be John coming to check on her every couple of hours instead of Nick. 

And so, as soon as the Resistance doctor assigned to her gives her permission to go, she’s gone. The hike to the cabin takes longer than it used to. Takes more out of her, too, because by the time she arrives and sinks down into the rickety old rocker she’s out of breath. 

She’s only just barely sat down when the door opens and John steps onto the porch. She heaves herself out of the chair, wavering unsteadily. She stares at him for a moment just as he stares at her. 

And then he’s kissing her. She didn’t remember either of them crossing the distance, but suddenly her hands are curled in the loose fabric of his shirt and he’s supporting her weight with one arm while his other hand cards through her hair. 

She kisses him like he’s air and she’s drowning, her fingers bunching tighter and tighter into his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

When they break apart, they’re both breathless. 

“I was worried,” he manages, voice thick. 

All she does is kiss him again.

—

When she wakes up in the church with John leaning over her, the sharp sting of the tattoo needle on her chest throbbing, her first thought is one of panic. She never considered herself a good actress and here, surrounded by Nick and Pastor Jerome and the others, she is sure they’ll be found out. Sure that they’ll figure out she’s nothing more than a backstabbing fraud who fraternizes with the enemy. 

When Pastor Jerome offers her the false book, she knows what it is. She knows that, inside, under the cover, there is a hidden gun. 

She has never been more afraid to take something in her entire life. But Jerome is staring pleadingly at her and she can’t look over at John to warn him because if she does she knows they’ll find out. 

So she takes the gun and hopes nobody will notice she never once aims it at John.

—

The Deputy is good at what she does, but she is only human. When Nick shoots his plane down she thinks she can feel her heart stop. She’s fumbling with the parachute before Nick even finishes crowing about the victory, fingers at the ready as she braces herself at the door. 

“Fly home,” she tells him, before taking off the headphones. The wind steals anything he might say in response as she opens the door and then she’s falling and she’d be worried if she hadn’t already fallen for the youngest Seed. 

The only difference now is that the parachute catches her before she hits the ground and then she’s pulling it off, shrugging her shoulders out of it as she runs forward. 

She finds him on the ground, bleeding and broken but still alive. 

She doesn’t need to say anything. John reaches for her, pulls her down to him. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she sees the tears falling into his hair as she cradles him against her chest. His hand presses the key into her hand. 

“No, no, no, no,” is all she can say and John is too injured to say anything in response. 

—

When she finally stands up to make the trip to his bunker, she knows the Resistance will not recognize her.

She had been pulling her punches for far too long because of John. Now that she doesn’t have to worry about him, she finds it would be terrifyingly easy to burn the valley to the ground.

—

“Rook,” comes a voice, tearing her away from the memories. Footsteps crunch on the leaves surrounding the grave and then there’s a warm hand on her shoulder. 

“Coming here isn’t good for you,” the voice says again. She sighs, tearing her eyes away from the stupid, simple grave that she’d worked so damn hard on. 

“I like to remember,” she answers stubbornly. He chuckles, before pulling her against his side. She can’t help but melt into his warmth. 

“Focus on what we have now,” he says, softly, insistently. She huffs, turning one last time to look at the grave. 

“We don’t have much,” she says, because they live on their own in a little cabin with a rickety front porch and blankets that were old before the Collapse. Because they can’t live in Prosperity or New Eden. Even though they both have people they miss. 

“We have each other, Rook,” he reminds her, voice gentle. And she knows. She knew it would be like this when she’d hidden John away in a small bunker she’d found near the cabin. Knew it even as she brought him preserved foods and water and clothes and anything else she thought he might need if the world suddenly ended. Knew it even as she sat in the bunker with Joseph, waiting for the radiation to clear out of the air so she could go check on him. As she worried that he ran out of supplies or that he’d begun to hate her during those long, long years apart. 

“You know, you don’t have to use my last name,” she says, because he’s right. Because it’s better to focus on the now, on the old little cabin they’ve turned into a home, on how she likes the way he looks with the salt-and-pepper hair as the grey creeps in. On how, after everything, they finally have each other. 

“You hate it when I use your first name,” he reminds her, a teasing little smile curling the corners of his mouth up. She scoffs, but when he tugs her back in the direction of the house, she goes easily. 

After all, the ending they’ve earned is bittersweet, but it’s theirs.

#john seed/deputy #deputy oc #john seed #enemies to friends to lovers #tw: alcohol use #mentions of abuse #secret love affair #gift: fic #fc5holidayexchange #unclefungusthegoat #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

(Submission from @farcry5-obsessions, my sideblog)

I was lucky enough to get @casino-lights, so I decided to draw her Deputy Sasha with Staci! I had a blast drawing it! I hope you like it!! ❤️

#oh gosh i hope it looks like them #sorry i suck at drawing clothes #this was super fun though! #farcry5giftexchange #casino-lights #far cry 5 #fc5 #staci pratt #ocs!! #submission #staci pratt/deputy #deputy oc #gift: art

[fc5holidayexchange]

(note: i have to submit this from my main blog, but i joined the gift exchange game with my fc5 sideblog ‘oh-the-bliss’)

'Merry Christmas, Baby’

Faith Seed/Sharky Boshaw

for @hopecountylovin

“Dear hopecountylovin, I know how frustrating it is to like a super rare ship, there’s nearly no content for it. So, when i saw you like this pair, i just had to do something with them… I really hope you like my gift! :)

Merry Christmas to you 🎄❤️”

#faith seed/sharky boshaw #sharky boshaw #faith seed #gift: art #fc5holidayexchange #hopecountylovin #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

'Fool Me Thrice'

John Seed x Deputy C. C. Black, Setting aside their differences for some heart to heart.

@johnsrevelation

'Hey there! Your deputy was so much fun to write for! I can see why John is crazy about her! I hope I captured her fire well for you!'

Fluff, Inner Conflict, Mischief

-

What is a name, save for an identification of ourselves? Save for a title, a moniker, a nom de guerre or a nom de plume?

A name holds a lot of power. A fae who knows your name can use it against you. Rumpelstiltskin and Beetlejuice are summoned and defeated by their names.

Names carry weight.

Names carry purpose.

And isn’t he a chameleon? Hasn’t he worn his own names and titles like coats and hats to suit his needs?

Duncan. Seed. Baptist. Inquisitor. Herald. Brother.

John.

-

But hers… hers is a mystery.

That god damned deputy and her metaphorical carrot on a stick.

It shouldn’t be much to ask, shouldn’t be a hard question for Deputy Black to answer. But he's… he's been trying for months to pry it out of her. It's almost a game, now. Like cat and mouse, like temptation extended on a silver spoon only to be yanked away with a chastising click of the tongue.

Just last week, wasn’t she perched right here on the arm of his couch, where he's leaning now? Shapely legs crossed, head held high, that haughty smirk on those plump lips, vehemently denying anything but her first initials. At this point, John asks just because he can. Because it's second nature. Because somehow after all they've hurled at each other in this holy war, C.C. Black still answers his midnight calls and still bothers to pay him visits at the ranch.

She prances around Holland Valley absolutely obliterating all the good work he and his people have put into preparing for the Collapse. Hell, just yesterday she took a couple explosives to the YES sign on the road near his ranch. Perhaps a precursor to something bigger. Something he'll make her rebuild all on her own, and then bury her under, if she takes it down. Something-

“John Seed? Over?” the radio on his coffee table squawks.

John has to fight himself not to reach out and snatch it up as urgently as possible at the sound of that familiar voice.

“Ah… Deputy Black,” he breathes into the receiver, trying to ignore that anxious clenching in his chest, “to what do I owe the honor? I thought we’d broken up after you torched my little sign. Was I mistaken?”

“I'll make you a proposition-….” comes her response, and then… Nothing. Silence.

“…Deputy?” he forces himself into something cool, detached.

No need to sound like he's been waiting all damn day for a call from her. (No need to admit that he has been.)

Seconds tick by. Minutes.

“C.C…?”

“Sorry bout that. Had to get my sights lined up,” she finally, mercifully responds and-

“Your what?” John instinctively ducks, his eyes darting to any window in sight, “finally coming to kill me, dear?”

“Yes…” she tastes the word.

Savors it. Draws it out with such fervor that…

No. Oh no.

Oh no no.

“This sign’s pretty big John. How'd you get it all built all the way up here? Tulip should be able to knock it right back down real-"

“Deputy, I'd strongly advise you not to lay a finger on that trigger,” he blurts, seething through his teeth, “unless you’re willing to suffer those consequences personally.”

Silence again.

She is testing him.

John finds himself vaulting up from the couch, radio clutched so tightly in his hand he can hear the casing creak in protest. He's off like a shot towards the door before his thoughts can catch up to his feet. If he can get Affirmation in the air soon, he can catch up to her quick enough to spare any major damage. If she'll only just wait a little, let him stall for time.

“I dunno, Seed, looks like it's itching for some bullet holes. Like a clean canvas. Which letter do I start with?” there is a haughty smirk in her voice as she interjects, drawing John to a stumbling halt.

Against all better logic in his brain he stands stock still, seething and teetering with frenetic, anxious energy. Needs to move, needs to go, needs to get her before she makes a big mistake. Tempest of a woman, Hell of a deputy. Pride suits her just as well as wrath does, clearly. He’ll wring that neck himself. He'll tie her down and keep her stuffed in the bunker if it means keeping her out of so much fucking trouble!

“Deputy. Do not. Touch my sign. Do you hear me? Do you understand?” he barks into the radio, shoulders tense, looking for all the world like he may as well combust where he stands.

“What. No more midnight visits?” she says, and-

That voice didn't come from the radio.

Before he can whip himself around to face the source of that crooning voice, she's on him. Arms locked around his midsection, drawing him in tight against her body. Her face pressed into his shoulder, her fingers digging into his stomach. And all he can do is sag in her grasp as all the adrenaline gusts out of him like a tide receding, leaving only mild irritation in its wake.

John should not be so relieved to feel this grasp, to know who's managed to sneak right up behind him with his guard down. And yet she's got her capable hands wrapped so tightly round his heart that even the warmth of her against his back has his pulse askitter.

“Gotcha,” is all she has to breathe into his shirt to get the goosebumps rising on his arms.

“I should throttle you. Should hold you down and carve your pride right into you,” he seethes, but there is no malice in his voice.

“Mm, but you won’t. You're so gullible John,” C.C. snickers as she tightens her fists in the fabric of his shirt, “it's like you don’t trust me or something.”

Oh, and he doesn’t. Not truly, anyway. Not when the woman can’t even give him her own name. Not when she leads him along like this only to turn right back around again and go on fucking up his region. But here he is, weak at the knees and already forgetting all about her transgressions and her latest prank, if only to make space for thoughts of what this night will bring for them now that she’s here.

She seems to have the same idea, for when he doesn’t get a response out in time, the deputy releases him. She grasps his bicep, whirls him around, and effortlessly leads him, dumbfounded, to the couch he’d been perched on moments ago. Probably still warm where he’d been lounging.

“Perhaps I don’t trust you, Wrath, because you seem to have fun cavorting around Holland Valley – and nowhere else recently, mind you – ruining all that I've worked for?” he finds his voice in his rising irritation that settles so comfortably next to his giddiness, a foreign pairing of feelings.

“You say that every time I show up here, in more or less eloquent words,” she snorts, pushing him down into the cushions and standing over him, and God she's stunning in this light.

Well, she's always stunning.

“And yet you continue to jam your fingers under every little button of mine.”

Before she can retort, John’s hands are on her, tugging her right down into his lap where she feels most familiar. Strong legs on either side of him, her arms coming to snare around his neck, this…

This is precisely where she belongs.

His heart is aloft any damn time she's with him. Like a hard reset on his brain, he so easily forgets what kind of woman she is outside the security of his ranch. All thoughts become her, become want, become need, become-

“I love you, John-"

Oh.

…

“…John?”

C.C.’s gentle hand under his chin brings him back to reality, where she threads her fingers through his beard and gently pushes to close his gaping mouth.

“Well that’s… out of left field don't you think?” is all he can get out, even as his pounding pulse threatens to consume him alive, “you can’t just walk in here after giving me a coronary and take the liberty of saying something like that when I'm inclined to not believe you, deputy.”

“Hey you don't have to love me back,” she shrugs, putting up a wall though he can still trace the faint ache in her eyes at his lack of response, “not gonna break my heart that way.

Her hands fall to settle on his shoulders, and he feels her squeeze him, tracing her gaze over his face as he admires the lines of hers. The corners of her lips twitch softly, subtly, tugging at a smile, or perhaps something more to say, but she remains silent as ever. She's always been good at that, if only when she needs to be. Like now, clearly. Stubborn woman, trying to tug the emotions right out of him and into the open air between them.

And instead, John speaks in actions, winding his arms around her and tugging her down to collide the spaces that divide them. Chest to chest, her thundering heartbeat pounding against his sternum, betraying her heightened emotions. C.C. tucks her head into his shoulder as he threads his fingers through her long hair, and like this, he is whole. He has everything he needs.

Out there they’d fight tooth and nail. Hell, tomorrow morning they'll be right back to the old bullshit again. He damn well can’t just set aside their differences when Deputy Black is so insistent on fucking up his hard work for the resistance.

But John Seed is nothing if not a fool, all because of her.

And damnit, he'll fall right back into her arms again the next time. Always has, always will.

“John-"

He grumbles some non-affirmative to hush her as he tucks his face in her shoulder, breathing in the smell of her hair. Of Holland Valley on her, the trees and grasses and wildflowers. Gunpowder and smoke and purest her. Chaos on two legs, keeper of his heart.

“I love you too.”

It's her turn to stiffen, something he delights in, and her fingertips dig into his skin as she comes to tighten her hold on him. The two of them may as well be one person, tightly as they’re tangled and carefree as they are.

“Really?” she whispers, just barely a breath, as he lifts his head to press kiss after kiss to her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, anything he can reach.

“Really."

#john seed/deputy #deputy oc #john seed #fluff #mischief #inner conflict #gift: fic #fc5holidayexchange #johnsrevelation #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

“One Dinner”

Deputy Noelle Bellemore/Joseph Seed, Ethan Seed, Jacob Seed

@kadaransmuggler

I hope I did Noelle justice and that you have just as much fun reading this as I did writing it!

Tags: Deputy x Joseph Seed, Deputy & Ethan Seed, Angst With A Happy Ending, Family Bonding

After seven years in complete solitude with nothing but concrete walls and each other, Joseph and Noelle knew each other staggeringly well. She could sense when he was troubled and she knew exactly what to say to ease his mind, and he could reliably assume her emotions based on her body language and the look in her eyes alone. The day he returned to New Eden, for example, she was furious. 

While she wasn’t exactly pleased that Ethan was so ready to declare his own father a lost cause, she understood - which is why she made no motion to stop him. But then a voice sounded from the crowd, and the people parted like the Red Sea to make way for their Father.

To say that Ethan was upset would be an understatement. It was understandable, considering that Joseph left without so much as a single goodbye. And Noelle? Oh, hell hath no fury like a mother with an upset child, whether the cause of that upset was her partner or not. She loved Joseph. He loved her. But that did not spare him. Not for one moment.

When they were alone, far from the eyes and ears of the New Edeners, she fell upon him like a storm and lectured him for two hours, detailing exactly how his actions affected his son. She didn’t stop until his cheeks were wet with tears and his fingers were trembling. And then, just as he realized how his one and only child was still so deeply influenced by him even in his twenty-first year, Noelle knelt down beside him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and told him that she would always love them both. She was not without heart, and it did not please her to speak to her beloved this way, but she was determined to open Joseph’s eyes to the impact he had on Ethan.

One dinner is what she asked of him. One family dinner, with herself and Joseph and Ethan sitting together at a table with a proper meal in front of them, not to be disturbed by anyone, even Joseph’s siblings. 

“And if Ethan will not agree?” Joseph asked her, eyes still red from the revelation that fatherhood took hard work. “What then?”

“He will,” Noelle answered firmly. She pressed a kiss to Joseph’s forehead and left him to his thoughts as she went to find his son.

Their son.

She had all but adopted Ethan when she first laid eyes upon him. He was only a child, raw from the loss of his mother and wary of a father he’d never known. Joseph offered him a hug. He didn’t accept. But when he turned those big blue eyes that all the Seeds shared toward Noelle, his lower lip began to tremble and the walls he had carefully built up began to crack. She knelt beside him, and the minute she opened her arms invitingly, he fell into them and squeezed her so tightly his knuckles paled. 

He never called her “Mother,” but she didn’t mind. She knew no one could ever replace his mother, and she didn’t bother trying. She loved him like her own, and so long as he knew it, that was enough for her.

After speaking with Joseph, she found Ethan returning from the forest with Jacob, dragging a slain stag behind them. Jacob gave her a nod of acknowledgement. Ethan forced a smile.

“Can I borrow him?” she asked Jacob, folding her hands behind her back. “You’ll have him back shortly.”

“Up to him,” Jacob replied.

Ethan tempered a sigh and let go of the stag before wiping his hands on his thighs. “What do you want, Noelle?” he said, sounding sharper than he’d intended.

“Just to talk, nothing more,” she answered easily. “Walk with me?”

He glanced at Jacob, who nodded once as if giving permission. He joined Noelle as she started off at a leisurely pace toward the river.

“I understand why you’re upset,” she said gently. “And I hope you know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for New Eden.”

“You see how little it matters to these people. All they care about is their Father.” Ethan shook his head, trying to scatter the frustrated thoughts rolling in his mind. “I will never be him, not to them. Even if I share his face.”

“You share more than you think,” Noelle said with a soft smile. “You’re both brave. You’re both strong-willed. You’re both charismatic…” She gave Ethan a knowing look. “And you’re both stubborn. Neither of you can entertain the idea of a world where you just might be wrong.”

“I can,” Ethan protested. “I have been wrong before and I will be wrong again, no doubt. I was wrong to think that my father would return for me, for example.”

“Oh, Ethan…” Noelle stopped at the edge of the riverbed and took one of Ethan’s hands in both of her own. “Your father loves you. His priorities are just skewed right now. Seeing him ignore you the way he did when he returned, seeing the way the others turned away from you, it made me furious. I’m almost surprised you didn’t hear me yelling at your father all the way in the forest.”

The flicker of a smile made its way onto Ethan’s face. “And did he listen?”

“Yes, he did.” She ran one of her thumbs over the back of Ethan’s knuckles, slightly discolored from incessant training with the Chosen. “It took a few… choice words… at varying volumes…”

He gave a dry chuckle.

“…But I was able to show him how he hurt you. And he’d like to apologize to you.”

The smile disappeared, replaced in an instant by a bitter scowl. “So he sent you?” he scoffed. “He could not come himself, I see.”

“No, no.” Noelle brushed a strand of his wiry hair out of his face. “He wants to apologize in person. I said he should do so over dinner. A family dinner, just the three of us. We won’t be disturbed, and that way you can both talk freely. Say whatever’s on your mind. Anything at all. …With me as a mediator, of course. We don’t want it to get out of hand.”

Ethan looked past her at the rippling river. “I do not expect he will listen to me.”

Noelle shook her head slowly. “He will, Ethan. But you have to listen to him too.”

Another sigh, this one long and drawn-out. Eventually, he said, “All right. When is this family dinner?”

“Dusk,” she answered. “We’ll be in the house on the hill.”

Ethan took his hand back and crossed his arms. “I cannot rid myself of the feeling that I will regret this, but… I will try. For you, if not him.”

“That’s all I ask,” Noelle said. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a motherly kiss to his forehead, then smiled at him once more before returning to the main village.

Ethan gently kicked a small pebble into the river. It sank lamely into the thick mud at its edge. With a shake of his head, he shut his eyes and muttered to himself, “Now he wants to apologize. Mother, give me strength.”

After he returned to the village and began to help Jacob skin and dress the meat of the stag they took down, dusk fell upon him all too quickly. He washed his hands, pulled his hair out of his face, and steeled himself for inevitable disappointment before making his way toward the house on the hill, distant from the other huts and the chapel. He clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, taking deep, measured breaths, and finally knocked on the archway before stepping inside.

Joseph stood from his place at the table. “Son,” he said quietly, almost reverently.

“Father,” Ethan returned evenly.

“I’m so glad you came,” Noelle said warmly, beckoning him to sit beside her. “Come on, now, the food’s going to get cold.”

The spread was wholly tempting, and Ethan’s stomach growled as the smells of roasted venison and vegetables reached him. He sat down, even though his legs were a bit too long for the chair and his knees almost hit the table, and as Noelle started carving slices of venison for each of them, he took a helping of vegetables and began to eat.

An uncomfortable silence overtook them as Joseph stiffly took his share and Noelle gave them both their venison before serving herself. She took note of the tension in the air and took a deep breath before saying, “So! Ethan, how was your hunt with Jacob?”

“He found a stag. I killed it.” Ethan took a bite of his venison, eyes fixed on Joseph.

“You’re becoming quite the hunter, Ethan,” he said, doing his best to sound warm.

Ethan’s feet pressed harder against the floor. “Thank you,” he managed. “Jacob is a good teacher.”

“I’m glad you get along with him. I was… worried my brothers would not accept you, but it’s clear that they love you as much as I do.” Joseph studied his son intently, waiting for the inevitable fallout of that statement, but Ethan simply lowered his eyes and continued eating.

More silence. It felt like the biting chill of winter, filling the room and freezing Joseph in place.

Noelle folded her hands in her lap. She knew she needed to keep them talking until they both said all they needed to say. After a deep breath, she committed. “Joseph. I believe it was unfair of you to leave without telling anyone.”

“Without telling me, you mean,” Ethan muttered after a sip of water.

“No, Ethan, I mean anyone. Even me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re lying. He tells you everything.”

“Not this.” She turned her gaze to Joseph. “That morning, he kissed my cheek, said ‘Look north,’ and left without another word. I didn’t think anything of it; he always says odd things like that.”

A self-conscious smile flickered on Joseph’s lips for a moment. Noelle returned the expression with a brighter, steadier one, her eyes holding untold affection even despite the tough love she’d shown him earlier.

Ethan, however, only felt frustration boiling in his throat. “You didn’t even tell her?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, Ethan,” Joseph said quietly. “Not Noelle. Not my siblings. Not my son.” He paused, wetting his lips and swallowing down the sour silence. “I’m sorry.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing somewhat. “You should be,” he said icily. The words landed hard, and as he watched his father wince, he felt a twinge of guilt. He forced it away. “I made so many sacrifices for ‘your children.’ I led them. Alone.”

“Ethan.” Noelle’s voice was gentle, and she placed her hand atop one of his as it rested on the table, curled into a fist. “That’s not true. Your aunt and uncles helped. So did I.”

His fingers slowly relaxed underneath hers, even as his hackles rose. “You advised,�� he corrected. “I still made all the decisions. They all still came to me whenever they needed something. Any time they would have gone to the Father, they came to me, saying I was the closest thing they had to him. As if that is all I am - an extension of you. And still, have I heard a single word of thanks?” 

The momentary pause was bitter. Without warning, Ethan smacked his free fist against the table and answered his own question with a cry: “Never!”

Noelle reached across the gap between her chair and Ethan’s and began to rub small, soothing circles on his back. “Shhh…” she breathed gently. “I know it’s frustrating. I told him that.”

Joseph folded his hands on the table. “You deserve recognition for everything you’ve done, Ethan. I want you to know that I appreciate your efforts… and that I’m proud of you.”

Ethan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed down his next words. They held too much venom. Instead, he focused on the feeling of Noelle’s warm hand on his back and let his father’s words sink in.

He is proud.

“My children will come to respect you,” Joseph continued softly. “I will encourage them to remember who guided them in my absence.”

Ethan’s mood - and expression - immediately soured, all of the warmth of his father’s pride iced over in an instant. “Your children,” he snapped, emphasizing the word bitterly, “would do anything if the Father asked them to. Why would I want forced appreciation? They take the words from your mouth by rote; how genuine could their thanks possibly be if the sentiment is simply repeated from you?”

Noelle gave Joseph a warning glance, then turned a softer gaze toward Ethan. “Your father can gently encourage them to think of you, but that’s the best he can do without putting words in their mouths outright. Would that be alright?”

Ethan relaxed his jaw, speaking again only after a long pause. “Fine. I suspect you enjoy the company of your children more than mine in any case.”

“Ethan, that isn’t fair,” Noelle said quietly, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “You know he loves you.”

“Yes, I’m sure he does. He loves all his children.” His stare was ice-cold as he fixed his eyes upon his father’s. “Doesn’t he?”

Joseph’s heart sank. “I… yes, of course I do.”

“And I am just the same as them, am I not?” Ethan’s tone grew colder and colder with every word he spoke. “Blood matters little - those were your words. Just as Faith is your sister, all of your children are my siblings. Just one big family, aren’t we, Father?”

“Of course, but—“

“See?” Ethan pushed his chair out abruptly and rose to his feet. “You don’t care any more for me than you do for them. We are all equal to you, aren’t we? Never mind the fact that I am your son. Never mind the fact that my mother died just so I could have a chance to meet you! She wanted so badly for me to have a father, for you to have a son, that she walked barefoot through a wasteland with a toddler on her back and all she received in return was death. But of course, none of that matters to you, does it? You’re not even passing leadership down to me. All I am to you is just another one of your multitude of children.” He looked furiously from Joseph to Noelle, then back again. “I don’t know what I was expecting, coming here.”

He turned to leave, but Noelle stood and blocked his path. “Ethan,” she insisted, “please, stay. Let him answer, at least, and if you don’t like what he says, then you can go. Just… give him a minute. For me, if nothing else.”

Joseph stood up as well, and walked slowly around the table until he was standing in front of Ethan. It felt odd, how he had shrunk with age and his son had grown so much. It seemed like only moments ago, Ethan was no higher than his waist.

Noelle took a short step back, letting the two most important men in her life look each other directly in the eyes. This is the kind of talk she had hoped for. Nothing held back. Nothing left unsaid.

Joseph’s voice was lower than a whispered prayer and twice as reverent. “Ethan. My son. …I am so sorry.”

“That’s not enough,” Ethan muttered.

“I know.” Joseph drew in a slow breath. “Sorry cannot bring your mother back. Sorry cannot return the time I should have had with you but squandered instead. Sorry does nothing. But it’s all that I have.” He looked at his son with pleading eyes and a trembling chin. “The flock… they are my children, yes. But they will never be you. And you will never be them. They are my children, but you are my son. I only have one. I have only ever had one. Even when I ignored you. Even when I pushed you. Even when I treated you no differently than them, you have always been my son.”

Slowly, he raised his hands to Ethan’s shoulders, and as his eyes shone with unshed tears, he said, “I have always, always loved you, Ethan. I love you in a way I will never love any other being in this world. I will never love my siblings, or Noelle, or even God Himself the same way I love you. You are my only child. Being your father is a privilege I have not always been worthy of. All I can do now is apologize, and promise to try my very hardest to become worthy of that privilege again.”

Ethan’s lips twitched and his eyes burned. He looked up to the ceiling, blinked, and inhaled deeply, steadying his voice and his expression before looking back to his father. “That… is all I can ask.”

“May I?” Joseph asked, opening his arms as an invitation.

After a moment, Ethan nodded, and Joseph wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Ethan’s body was rigid, but with a low sigh, he began to relax. With one arm, he lightly hugged his father in return, and though he pulled away quickly, he felt a lingering warmth from the embrace as he adjusted his tunic.

“I’m proud of you both,” said Noelle with a soft smile. “I’m not expecting this to fix everything overnight, but… I think this will help. No, I know this will help.” 

Ethan lowered his gaze to his feet, feeling smaller than he thought he would. “I hope it does,” he replied quietly. “I’d… like to take some time to think about all of this.”

“Of course.” She gave him a hug as brief and light as a breeze, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead before folding her hands in front of her. “Go on. Take as much time as you need. It’s a lovely night to sleep under the stars.”

He nodded absently. “Goodnight, Noelle.” After a moment, he looked back to Joseph, and with a lower, softer voice, he managed, “Goodnight, Father.”

With every note of tenderness he could muster, Joseph answered, “Goodnight, my son.”

#fc5holidayexchange #joseph seed #joseph seed/deputy #ethan seed #jacob seed #angst with a happy ending #family bonding #gift: fic #kadaransmuggler #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

A Kiss Your Captor Christmas

Jacob Seed/Staci Pratt 

My gift for @closecry ! I hope you have a wonderful holiday :)

#staci pratt/jacob seed #staci pratt #jacob seed #fc5holidayexchange #closecry #submission #gift: art

[fc5holidayexchange]

Wren: “Crap, I think I may have forgotten my jacket at the Louvre. Brr, it’s cold!”

John: “I’ll buy you a new jacket, love. Here, in the meantime, take mine. Wouldn’t want to miss our dinner reservations at L'Oiseau Blanc, would we?”

Merry Christmas @nightwingshero! My computer crashed, so I had to try out some new drawing/painting software. I hope you like it!

#fc5holidayexchange #john seed #john seed/deputy #deputy oc #gift: art #nightwingshero #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 [ART]

Deputy Emily Evans and Jacob Seed having a quick lil holiday kiss while surrounded by a wreath~.

@mrs-sakurai​ !!!

I loved painting your character, she’s adorable!! I hope your holiday season is merry and bright!

Deputy x Jacob Seed

#fc5holidayexchange #jacob seed #jacob seed/deputy #deputy oc #gift: art #mrs-sakurai #submission

[fc5holidayexchange]

[Far Cry 5 Holiday Exchange Art]

Deputy Sarah Lamb/Jacob Seed

for @deputy-sarah-sux

i hope you like it - it was so fun drawing your deputy!

“Jacob Seed, Deputy Sarah Lamb, bedsharing, fluff”

#fc5holidayexchange #jacob seed #jacob seed/deputy #deputy oc #gift: art #bedsharing #fluff #deputy sarah sux #submission