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alessiathepirate · 29 days

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Far Cry 6

EL CAZADOR Y LA PRESA: Vaas Montenegro x fem!reader

Summary: La Raja Bar - the place where two old acquaintances finally meet again...

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

My Spanish isn't the best so if you find a word / phrase used in the wrong context or anything please let me know so I can improve :)

I can't believe I finally finished this piece, I've been working on it for such a long time. I think the Michael Mando brainrot helped a lot.

I hope you'll enjoy this <3

Warnings: swearing, my Spanish, referenced and mentioned violence, heavily suggestive themes, also mentioned and referenced plot of Far Cry 3 and 5

•••

Juan knew many people and he for sure knew his way around them.

He knew when and how to strike a great business deal, and how to get out on top with more intel and money than the other had initially offered.

But more often than not, when he got tired in the workshop, he just went out to have a drink or two - or more, it was almost always more - with an old friend. And he had many old friends. Some even more dangerous than the potentional business partners; many were ex-guerrillas, ex-CIA, ex-KGB, ex-terrorists... The list was endless.

She liked to join him sometimes; sitting down to try and make the stupid businessman talk or sitting down with a beer to listen to Juan and his old pal fool around.

That's what she planned on doing once again, after finishing a run for the man to steal some uranium from the last few remaining anti-aircraft sites. After taking the iron chest back to Zamok Archipiélago, she went straight up north, to La Raja Bar - where she knew she'll find the one and only Juan Cortez.

Arriving there though... a surprise was waiting for her there. A big fucking surprise. Juan wasn't the one sitting at the bar, waiting for her, already drunk. In fact, Juan wasn't anywhere in sight. Instead, she found an old friend there, hunched over with his elbows on the table.

She could still recognize him even after all those fucking years, even if the time had taken its toll on both of them.

And just by knowing who he was, she was sure he was the one Juan had met up with before leaving without telling her not to come.

And thank God he didn't tell her that.

"Holy shit!" she cursed as her lips turned upwards into a smile. "What's the fucking chance?"

The man turned around slowly - much slower than he did in the past -, but the very dangerous kind of calmness was still seen in the way his muscles moved. The look on his face upon realizing who was speaking to him, wasn't really surprised - she had never seen him being surprised at anything -, although it was close to it. She was pretty sure he had been going on with life like she had done, thinking they'd never see each other again. To be completely honest, for a time she believed he died - until she realized nothing could kill him, only himself.

"Long time no see, Jefe."

Vaas grinned and she took a seat right next to him, asking the bartender for two more beers. The old lady just cursed under her breath, but in the end, gave her what she asked for.

She gave one beer to Vaas and then took a sip from the other one.

"Fucking Hell, chica!" he took the bottle from her and gave her one of his signature little chuckles. "I thought the jungle ate you up alive."

"The jungle?" she questioned. "Like it had a fucking chance."

"It had one in the beginning."

They smiled at the other in a very twisted and scary way. The bartender chose to stay far away from them, and decided to mess with the old radio in the corner.

She liked knowing that nothing changed.

It all felt the same; the drinking, the talking, even the fucking looks... Although they had more scars - more than the ones they had given each other back then -, more grey hairs and a more serious drinking problem, it was as if they were back in some part of the Rook Islands, in a shitty bar.

She leand in more, her lips turning into an even wider smile, until it was a grin, and said: "It doesn't have one anymore, Jefe."

She carefully watched as his expression went through different phases. She could see the almost-smile as his lips twitched when she said that last word.

Jefe.

It was easy for her to tame him just by saying that. For some reason he liked to hear that word from her. Only her. She remembered all the times she had been tackled to the ground, rough fingers digging into her skin. It has always been easy to get what she wanted.

"I can fucking see that, chica."

His gaze was upon her knuckles, which were bruised. Small cuts littered her hands.

"Good for you." she said as she took another sip. "Nowadays not many people get to keep their eyes to look at me with."

Vaas chuckled.

"You still got your claws, tigre." his smile turned into a smirk. "No one broke them before, huh?"

"No one other than you." she teased. "Believe me, no one could do it better than you."

"Careful now, chica." his voice was just like hers, it had something to it - some teasing and some danger, just the things she liked. "You still think you can just run that mouth of yours without any consequences, ey?"

"I know I can't." her tone became low. "That's why it's fun."

Silence followed. The unsettling kind.

And then after a smirk, Vaas laughed.

And she felt as if she was on the Rook Islands again, being intentionally teased and angered, Vaas just chuckling at her reactions. But he had loved it more when she escaped. He loved her fight, he loved her nails more - enjoying when they broke his skin, leaving red lines behind. And in return, she got some thin cuts as well, mostly around her collarbone, making it impossible to hide them.

As they sat there, drinking and laughing, she wanted nothing more than to jump on him and leave marks behind again. And she was sure he wanted to do the same.

"So, what are you up to in Yara, chica?" he asked, his voice turning serious as much as it could. "Causing trouble again?"

"Sí, Jefe. Juan seemed to enjoy it so I decided to join in on the fun. Besides," she pulled down the neckline of her shirt so he could see the scar on her chest. "I got tired of Montana pretty quickly."

"Nice tattoo. You got more?"

"Only this one." she let go of her shirt. "You gave me better ones anyway."

"That I did chica."

She felt a chill run through her as he looked at her.

The want, or rather need was undeniable. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. He needed her as much as she needed him.

They've been far away from sanity for a long time, and their shared insanity met them each and every time they chased the other again and again and again... She was never really sane, especially with Vaas around. He made her the person she has become. He made her want him more than she wanted anyone else.

She still remembered the time Vaas gave her the tattoo she knew he was referring too. They went out to hunt - in reality he just wanted to see her face when she hit a living, moving animal; he wanted her to know she was the one who killed it. And she shot - perfectly. She only had to give the doe one more bullet to put it down and as soon as the animal was dead, her chest started to raise and fall quickly. Yet she didn't have time to think, because one of his arms was around her waist, pulling her close. His face was burried in the crook of her neck as he laughed.

"Ahora ya no eres presa, chica." he had said. "Eres la cazadora." and his teeth broke the skin on her neck.

She had asked what it meant, not quite understanding Spanish back then.

Vaas chuckled, but translated it.

"You just became the hunter, chica. You are not prey anymore." his nose touched her ear and her breathing hitched. "Mi pequeña cazadora."

Mi. She knew that meant 'my'. And from the way he acted she knew he liked that idea. He liked it a lot.

And then his fingers grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulled it up and his knife cut into her skin. Droplets of blood ran down her hip, making her jeans red. She whimpered and grabbed onto his arm, trying to get it away, but he wouldn't move.

The letter V he had carved into her that day could still be seen just above her hip. She thought about touching it - like she always did when she was thinking about him -, but held herself back.

He didn't need to know how much she enjoyed the thought of that scar.

She finished her beer. He did too. She thought about asking for another, but since the bartender wasn't anywhere in sight, she decided against it.

She didn't know what to say.

She wanted him and she was sure he felt the same, but after all those years they both became tame. It was actually surprising to not hear him shout orders.

In the end she reached into her pocket to pay for the drinks, but just as she was about to throw the money on the counter, Vaas grabbed her wrist. Out of reflex her other hand was immediatelly on the knife which was attached to the back of her belt. Vaas just grinned.

'Good reflexes, chica.' she could hear his voice in her head.

She raised one of her eyebrows.

"No need for that, cazadora." uncomfortable tingles ran through her at the nickname and at the touch. "The puta won't ask for money. I made sure of that."

She looked at him with excitement.

Her hand let go of her knife and she concentrated on the feeling of him holding onto her wrist, almost crushing the bones.

Cazadora. He remembered, didn't he? Of course he did. He remembers fucking everything. Especially the things he had done in the past.

She knew he made her. In the jungle, in the heat. Every single time she fought him and he cut her, he made sure she'll become something else. Something... loco.

And every time she let him tackle her, cut her, kiss her and bite her, she let him form her into the insane bitch she has become.

Mi pequeña cazadora. She remembered that day in the jungle when they were hunting the doe. She remembered the dull pain when he drew the V into her skin. She remembered his breath on her skin and his grin when she leaned into him, accepting her own insanity next to his.

She felt the need grow in the pit of her stomach as Vaas held onto her.

Perhaps they weren't too old to hunt again.

"You make me fucking crazy Jefe." she said as she dropped the money, letting it fall, the coins rolling far away.

And soon they were on each other. Hands roaming free, teeth biting lips. His thumb found the letter V above her hip and she whined.

She let herself be tackled, she let him break the skin with his teeth.

No matter how different she has become, next to Vaas she didn't want to be a hunter.

Not when it was too enjoyable to be the prey.

#vaas montenegro x reader #vaas montenegro x fem!reader #alessiathepirate #far cry 6 #far cry 3 #far cry x reader

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razzlerdazzler · 1 year

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Other Fandoms I will write for

Here are some other fandoms I will write for. I will also write for any other fandoms you suggest, if I know them. I also have another one of these at the bottom of my page, but I don't know how to link it here, sorry :)

Rise of the Guardians

Gi Joe

Overwatch

Assassin's Creed

Stardew Valley

Vash the Stampede

Ghostbusters

Obey Me

Mash

Far Cry

Fallout (including the games)

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xthescarletbitch · 1 month

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BESTIE I HAD ANOTHER ESPADA IDEA so like it’s late at night and you’re restless and you usually don’t smoke but you see espada outside smoking so she offers you one and lights it with the tip of her own and you’re so close you’re almost touching noses and she lingers in your space even after your cigarette is lit and you two stay huddled together and talk about what’s keeping you up at night and she lets her walls down and is more open with you than with anyone else and you’re kinda worried that when the day comes things will go back to how they were but when she sees you, there’s something different in the way she looks at you and when you go out to see her that night, she shares her smoke with you instead of having you smoke your own and each time you two get more comfortable with each other until she finally kisses you and wiwonroaueowhrpe

bestie, i'm sorry this is so late. i forgot about it in my drafts. i also must apologize in advance because clearly, i am not an experienced writer when it comes to those intimate moments... so i hope i did this idea some justice. <3

hazy midnights || camila "la espada" montero x reader

sfw, but i still prefer no minors (curse words are involved)

cw: reader has insomnia and anxiety, there is smoking involved

word count: 3200+

author's note: so i wrote this with the idea that the reader and camila have already had some sort of mutual pining going on, but it's gotten nowhere until you meet up one night. i also incorporated a lot of spanish to keep with the theme.

no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to disregard the incessant thoughts that circled around in your head. all you wanted to do was sleep, but you couldn’t, and the more you fixated on the amount of sleep you were losing, the worse it got. to make matters even more frustrating, what felt like hours passed of trying to sleep turned out to only be a few minutes.

you thought you’d see the light of the next day at any moment, but the gloomy darkness in the barracks remained. the only light that peered in was what the stars were giving from the night sky, in addition to the faint lighting of the lights around camp. the setting was made for sleep, but you found none. of course, that wasn’t new to you–insomnia was no stranger in your life, nor were the intrusive thoughts that plagued you.

laid on your back, you turned your head to the left and caught a glimpse of dani snoozing away on her bed. it was intriguing how she could manage to sleep after all the horrors she’d witnessed and the trauma she’d experienced. you were happy for your friend, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel pangs of jealousy and resentment.

you glanced back up at the ceiling and decided to take out your phone, which was placed underneath your pillow. as soon as it was raised into your view, the time flashed across the screen: 1:15.

“mierda,” you cursed under your breath. “it’s going to be a long night.”

you decided to turn on your right side, which gave you a clear view out the window. in the distance, over by a tree, you saw a spark of light appear and then diminish. it could’ve been something as simple as a bug, but considering that you were at the montero farm, the most rational explanation to you was the lighting of a cigarette. you had no idea who it could’ve been, though; out in the west, it could’ve been anybody–it seemed that everybody smoked… well, except you. however, you were intrigued to join them anyway. after all, it seemed more appealing than staring at random objects around the barracks and cursing yourself for not sleeping.

slowly creeping out of bed, you slipped into your combat boots and laced them up. you snuck up to the door of the barracks that was left slightly ajar and quietly pulled it towards you until there was enough space to make a stealthy exit.

as you walked out of the barracks, the gorgeous night sky caught your attention. it was a beautiful shade of blue that was magnificently complemented by flecks of white and yellow that almost resembled stars–who knew for certain in yara? there was a gentle breeze that brushed against your skin, promptly reminding you that you hadn’t even considered a jacket, but still, your feet continued to take you forward. you’d be fine.

you approached the tree and peeked around the other side to spot espada leaned up against it with a cigarette between her fingers, huffing out a cloud of smoke. she noticed your presence and waved you over to her.

“hey,” you said, rounding the tree to stand by her.

“hola,” she muttered, putting her cigarette between her lips. she took a puff before speaking again. “you smoke?”

you weren’t generally a smoker, but the release of chemicals it would bring sounded enticing. plus, the thought of spending some alone time with espada didn’t seem so bad, either. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have a bit of a crush on her. then again, who didn’t?

reading your face for an answer, espada grabbed her cigarette box from her shirt pocket and flipped the top open, pulling one out. you extended your arm out to grab it, thinking that she would place it in your hand. instead, she stepped forward and casually raised it to your mouth herself. you welcomed the interaction, parting your lips and closing them around the cigarette. your eyes made contact as she pinched her cigarette and leaned forward, getting close enough to light your cigarette with her own.

once your cigarette was lit, and your belly was fluttering from the small interaction, espada stepped back to lean against the tree again but never quite returned to her prior distance. she remained lingering in your space, facing you, her eyes rarely leaving yours. there were a few moments of silence when you would both take drags of your cigarettes, looking up at the night sky every so often.

“what has you up so late?” she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

“too much on my mind, i guess,” you admitted. the same could be said for just about any yaran, but they could sleep just fine. why couldn’t you? “y tú?”

she shrugged, sighing as she exhaled her cigarette smoke. “i dunno, the same.”

you nodded your head in understanding. it was right back to the silence filling the air, along with the cigarette smoke and your attempts to stifle the little coughs that tried to escape. you wanted to say more–to keep the conversation going–but nothing hit you.

“it’s beautiful, no?” she finally broke the silence once more, pointing up to the sky with her cigarette in hand.

“sí,” you nodded. “not many beautiful nights like this.”

she looked hesitant for a moment, staring right at the ground. it seemed like she wanted to tell you something, but she couldn’t quite get it out yet. you waited patiently, continuing to admire the night sky. it was beautiful.

“mi mamá and i would watch the stars sometimes,” her eyes looked up for a second, but then went back to the ground, like she couldn’t make eye contact while recollecting those memories. “she would tell me that when we go, we become like them.”

“that’s beautiful, espada,” you complimented, tilting your head to admire her for that bit of information, appreciating the vulnerability. you never thought you’d see a softer side of her, and you certainly didn’t think she’d ever willingly let you see it.

“i look for her on these nights, you know? been gone for years, but i keep lookin’.”

you smiled at her as she looked back at you, and a tiny smile appeared across her face as well. more moments were spent looking up at the night sky, with your occasional glance back down to espada, who seemed to have a lot more on her mind.

“is something bothering you?” you finally decided to ask, worried about her, but knowing that you may not even get a response back.

her attention was now on you, rather than the night sky, and you could read her expression better. there was a sort of longing that you couldn’t quite place, though–a longing for what?

“yes.”

“do you want to talk about it?”

there was hesitation. her eyes peered all over, but never quite landed back on yours yet.

“look, you’ve shown that i can trust you, sí? you can’t repeat what i’m about to tell you–not yet.”

“of course,” you assured. “you can talk to me.”

she nodded and looked back at you, maintaining eye contact, but seemed to still hesitate to divulge any information. you squeezed your eyebrows together and continued to look at her.

“what’s going on, espada?”

“mierda… do you remember the lieutenant i’ve been trying to locate?”

“sí.”

“he’s not just any lieutenant. he’s my little brother.”

“espada, i-“

“he changed his name when he joined the fnd. now he’s working for that hijo de puta josé.”

“does anybody else know?”

“some do, and they call him a traitor,” her voice trailed off. “but he’s still a montero.”

“are you close to finding him?”

“no sé. i just know he’s a big scientist at one of the facilities, but i don’t know which one.”

“what’s the plan when you find him?”

“to… bring him home.” espada spoke lower that time, lowering her head as well. “i don’t know if he will come back. papá has always been so hard on him. on both of us. alej couldn’t take the heat, so he left. papá says he doesn’t care, but i know he does. deep down.”

“i’m so-“

“no. i don’t need your pity.”

you just tilted your head to apologize, not wanting to ruin the moment. you were surprised that she was even telling you something like this, but honored at the same time.

“pinga. anyways,” she put out her cigarette and immediately lit another. “do you want to talk about what’s keeping you up?”

you shrugged, not knowing what to say, but getting the hint that she wanted to move on with the conversation. “i’ve just always had a hard time sleeping.”

“por qué?”

“i dunno,” then you looked to the ground. “i just think too much.”

“ah.”

“sí,” you hesitated for a second, but then realized how hard it must’ve been for espada to open up herself. “i don’t know how to stop some recurring thoughts.”

“what are they about?”

“sometimes irrational things, sometimes rational things.”

espada nodded as she listened, giving you the go-ahead to keep going.

“i think, no, i worry a lot about this war. i know we are strong, but do we really have what it takes?”

“fuck yes we do. we are going to get that comemierda.”

“will i even be there to witness it?”

“herma’… you’re a good guerrilla. don’t forget that.”

“pero-“

“oye, how do you think you survived this long?”

“help from some amazing guerrillas.”

“sí,” she stepped closer, putting her hand on your shoulder. “and you’re one of them.”

“i guess so.” you looked down at her hand, which lingered. “thank you, espada.”

“call me camila. and i am always out here around this time, so join me when you can’t sleep. i could use a smoking buddy.” there was another one of her adorable smiles–rare to see, but you were just getting spoiled with them that night.

“gracias, camila.”

even after your cigarettes were put out, you continued to small talk. hours passed until the sun was finally starting to come up, and you parted ways.

you walked back to the barracks with a fear that the intimate moment you just experienced would be forgotten forever. you felt even closer to camila after the night you had, and you wanted to get even closer. there was a glimmer of hope in you that she might begin to see you differently–if she hasn’t already–and maybe even try to get closer to you, too. unsurprising to your habit of overthinking, you also wondered if she truly meant her invitation to meet up again at night.

after managing to get an hour of sleep, you were awoken by the sound of the others around you getting up and ready for the day. you figured there was no use in trying to get any more sleep because the noise alone would keep you awake. you pulled your pillow over your face to stifle a grunt before deciding to get up and perform your morning routine.

last night’s thoughts remained in your head as you got ready for the day. you were obviously no stranger to overthinking, but you couldn’t help but ponder your crush on camila. what happened only intensified it, and you just wondered if there was potential for anything more there. getting caught up in your own thoughts, you were reminded by dani that it was time to go.

finally finished and ready, you stepped outside, spotting camila executing her attack moves with her knife near her tree. you stopped and found yourself staring at her, admiring her prowess. she paused for a moment to take a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead before glancing around and finally landing her eyes on you.

fuck, you thought.

expecting a cold stare or even a quick head-turn on her part, you were instead greeted with a gentle smile before she returned to her sparring. her small expression made you smile as well, and you continued about your day, following dani out of the camp.

you were not immune to ruminating over the previous events as you and dani fought soldados in madrugada. she caught you distracted a few times, but you brushed it off like it was nothing. she did not need to know about your silly crush because it was silly, right?

that night, when everybody else was sound asleep, you took a chance and went out to meet camila again. as you once again rounded the tree, camila saw you and smiled, seemingly happy to see you.

“ven acá,” she commanded. “i want you to try this.”

you made a spot next to her against the tree and grabbed the cigarette she offered you from her hand. you inhaled quickly, then exhaled slowly.

“mmm…” you pulled the cigarette from your lips and rotated it in your hand, analyzing it. “qué es esto?”

she took the cigarette from your fingers and took another puff. as she blew out, she opened her mouth to proudly utter: “the good shit. i’ve been saving it.”

the night went by quickly as you conversed, took turns smoking the same cigarette, and enjoyed each other’s company. you discussed more things about yourselves, relishing in the time to get to know each other some more. interest was shared on both sides and it was a pleasant experience. you hoped that every night would be like that.

the most unfortunate part always crept up, though, and that was when you had to call it quits and retire back to the barracks. it was the same as the night before–camila offered to meet up again the following night, and then the night after that, and the night after that.

several nights went by, and they were several nights filled with meetings between you and camila in various spots, like the tree or sniper’s nest by the camp. they have been nights when you both took pleasure in each other’s company, getting to know each other on a deeper level. you both grew close so fast, and it felt like you had known each other for ages.

the “silly” crush on camila has since grown exponentially as you revealed more of yourself to her and, in turn, learned a lot more of her. your feelings get to a point where you can no longer contain them anymore, and one night, you decide it’s time to approach her about them.

your head was against camila’s shoulder as you both sat, looking out onto the camp from the sniper’s nest on the mountaintops. camila was talking about her day and how she managed to make some strides with the other guerrillas–which she can now call them–that she was training. you looked up at her every so often, hoping to make eye contact with her, and when you did, it left butterflies in your stomach. you had to tell her how you felt.

as with every other night, there was one cigarette shared between the two of you. when it was finally gone, camila rubbed it on the ground and flicked it off the mountain. the hand that was holding the cigarette was then rubbing your shoulder as your head still laid against her shoulder. when you turned to look at it, she removed it.

“i-i’m sorry,” she muttered quietly, sitting up a little bit.

you lifted your head off of her shoulder and watched as she stood up. she brushed her thighs off with her hands and looked down at you with that same longing glance that you saw several nights before. you had previously dismissed it as just having been missing her mother, but at that point, you were starting to wonder if it was more than that–if it was much more in that moment.

“what’s going on, camila?” you questioned, worried, but also fairly curious to see where it was going. would you even be able to work up the courage to confess your feelings to her?

“there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you.”

oh? you thought. could she have been feeling the same way? no. she couldn’t be.

“what is it?”

her face reddened, and her eyes lingered on yours. she hadn’t even spit it out, and she was already looking nervous–it must’ve been a big deal. the least of your worries caught your attention in that moment and you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was. the moonlight shone on her skin divinely, accentuating her features and making her lips glisten. you felt bad for staring at a time like that, but it was true. she was beautiful.

you finally stood up and stepped closer to her, hoping that the closeness would bring her some comfort to share what has been plaguing her.

“camila? what’s the mat-“

you were quickly cut off by her lips against yours, her gloved hands cupping your face on both sides, and her body moving you slightly backwards. you instinctively placed your arms behind her neck to bring her even closer to you, deepening the kiss. her head tilted to the side to give for better access as you both continued to savor the kiss. you found your hands lifting to brush against her face–which was surprisingly soft–as you held her in place. you never wanted that moment to end.

so many emotions were running through you as your lips were together. was this it? was it finally happening?

camila pulled away for some air, causing your lips to turn into a pout. you slowly opened your eyes to see a smiley camila looking right back at you. your hands were still on each other as you pulled each other close once more to share a quick little smooch or two.

before she pulled away for good, she rubbed her nose against yours and then exhaled slowly. your cheeks already had some heat in them as you maintained eye contact with camila, whose hands were now off you as she stepped back. she studied your expression, worried about the impulsiveness that she just gave into.

“lo siento.”

“why are you sorry?”

“pinga, i just couldn’t hold that in anymore.”

“it’s okay, camila. i’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

she was somehow shocked: “really? i mean, me too.”

you giggled, and since she was still within an arms reach, you pulled her close to you once more, but this time, to hug her. you felt safe and secure in those arms, and it was another place you did not want to leave. she put her arms around you and squeezed you tighter, letting out a rather large exhale–one you can only guess is of relief.

when you pulled away again, you were both smiling, feeling good about the turn of events. it was clearly soemthing you have both been waiting for as those nights have passed, and it couldn’t have turned out better.

you and camila went back to your little blanket to watch the stars. your head was back on her shoulder, and her hand was on yours–and this time, it was going to stay. she ran her hand up and down your arm, enjoying the moment, happy to finally have gotten that out of the way.

before you went back down the mountain, camila turned to you and took your hand in hers.

“so, same time mañana?”

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judgementdaysunshine · 7 months

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Dani Rojas x Male Reader where the two are pretty much siblings to each other and have gone through everything together. And when reader gets injured Dani is concerned and the pair, when reader is recovered, they admit that they are family/siblings to each other?

Wooo!

The sibling I never had

Pairing: Dani Rojas x Male reader

Description: You and Dani acknowledge how much the two of you mean to each other after recovering from a stab wound

Ever since you and Dani had met, the two of you had been attached to the hip with each other more than either of you had been close with anyone. Currently the two of you were raiding one of Castillo's bases getting Yarans who were still alive out of hell covering and saving each other a few times when you found each other getting quite a few people out until a guard who hid away saw you walk around the corner searching one last time not noticing anything except the bodies on the ground suddenly you were tackled on the ground feeling a burning and searing pain managing to flip the guard off you grabbing your gun until you hear a gunshot turning only to see dani running to you after falling back down when you tried to stand on your feet seeing her lips move as your vision dims until you go unconscious leading to a distraught dani getting you to Juan who both managed to stop the bleeding before being bandaged up. You groan in pain as you wake up slowly standing leaning against the wall as you walk seeing Chorizo wag his tail when he sees you making Philly turn who almost dropped the radio he was fixing as dani walks up to him immediately running to you "Woah you are not allowed to be walking let alone standing" she leads you back in and slowly helps you lay back down giving you pain meds to help with the pain as you doze back off with her or philly watching you as you sleep and occasionally wake up to eat or drink water, you recover over the next few days walking out stopping when you hear dani and Paolo talk "You love him don't you?" you stop and couldn't help but laugh at the horrified look on dani's face "Not like that puta! That's my brother idiota" you raise a brow as you stand next to the two "Paolo as much as you're a great friend..I want to smack you just for saying that" he shakes his head walking off as you and dani look at each other "You're the sister i always wanted but never got" she smiles sweetly as the two of you hug each other "Te amo mi hermano" you smile big as the two of you walk to juan who is relieved to see you up and moving around like you did before "I may not be fluent in Spanish but te amo mi hermana".

#far cry 6 x reader #dani rojas #far cry x reader #far cry #dani rojas x reader #far cry 6

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 7 months

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Wicked Games

A Dark Fairy Tale Collaboration Event

Welcome to my event. I decided to host this collaboration because who doesn't love dark fairy tales featuring our favorite characters? It's angsty, dark, and sexy.

Now this event is special because it centers on anime and video games in general; there is no specified fandom. Writers or artists who enjoy canon x canon, self-ships, or original characters in their stories/pieces can participate and spread their passion.

The Fairy Tale List: (if there is one you want to add please let me know).

Cinderella

Hansel and Gretel

The Little Mermaid

Little Red Riding Hood

Beauty and the Beast

Sleeping Beauty

Snow White

Rapunzel

The Snow Queen

Bluebeard

The Frog Prince

Pinocchio

Rumplestiltskin

Alice in Wonderland

The Goose Girl

Goldilocks and the Three Bears

The Steadfast Tin Soldier

The Rules:

Must be 18+ to enter.

The piece or story can be centered around any anime or video game character as long as it incorporates one of the fairy tales listed above. (Check out the Fairy Tale List). They don't have to 100% follow the chosen fairy tale; you can throw in your own unique spin.

You can write or draw: dark content, NSFW, crossovers, reader inserts, original characters, self-ships, canon x canon, SFW, etc.

(Everything has to be tagged appropriately).

There is a 500-word minimum.

Participants have to send me a message or comment on this post with the character they want to draw or write for and which of the fairy tales they have chosen to center the piece or fic around.

You can submit more than 1 story or art piece.

The deadline is February 29th. Participants can submit their work a day late, but no later, because I will be putting up the Masterlist soon after the deadline. However, if you need more time please let me know.

DM the link to the piece once you have it written, so I can add it to the Masterlist.

Use the hashtag: #Disenchanted’sfairytaleevent, or #Wickedgamesevent

If there are any questions, please let me know.

Entries: (I'll fix the order of these once I get more).

Beauty and the Beast

Vaas Montenegro x Female Reader by @mydisenchantedeulogy

Reblog and share, please.

#far cry fanfiction #far cry x reader #far cry 3 fandom #collaboration event #fairy tale au

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lazypinkpig · 1 year

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"Fics + Drabbles Commissions"

-types of story : fluff, nsfw, dark content, angst, OC/character, OC/OC, character/character - I can do fanfictions or original story

-price : $0.02 per word so for 1000 words it's $20, payment upfront no refunds. Paypal.

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

"HEADCANON COMMISSIONS"

-types of headcanons : fluff, angst, nsfw, dark content, anything, suggestions and preferences is welcome.

-price : $10 per characters. Paypal, payment upfront no refunds.

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agender-wolfie · 2 years

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Guys. Stop tagging your OC stories as X reader. It’s hard to sift through and I don’t go to the x reader tag for OC’s I don’t care about .

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gatorlovebot · 5 months

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someone said simon needs a vacation and now i can’t stop thinking about taking him up to my cabin up north. pouting at him to put on the little swim trunks you brought him so you and him can swim in the lake together. getting him a floaty that is just roomy enough to fit his big ass and tossing him a hard seltzer. rolling your eyes at him when he bulks at the can, “‘m not one for juice and alcohol, love.” and you just tell him that it tastes better on the water. after a few minutes of you two drifting off in the water in your floaties he tips his head back to look at you and asks, “this all you do up here?” yep. after a few hours you’re hollering at him up from the dock to come inside to help you make dinner and this motherfucker has the audacity to look up at you from under his stupid little sunglasses and tip his 5th hard seltzer at you and say, “lake life, love.” but you get the last laugh when he spends the rest of the night complaining about his nasty sunburn.

#gator.writing #this might be the most self indulgent thing i’ve ever written lol #but i coupd honestly cry thinking about how far away summer is oh my goddd #not to doxx myself but i don’t have it in me to endure another minnesota winter #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #he feels like a badass when you let him drive the boat lol

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shalotttower · 3 months

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A Heart Deceived

Title: A Heart Deceived

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Characters: Jacob Seed x Reader (female)

Summary: AU where soulmates share the same marking and Jacob doesn't have to brand you any further.

Word count: 2900+

Notes: soulmates, yandere!Jacob Seed, Reader is not the Deputy, captivity, violence, emotional manipulation, dub-con kissing, scars and injuries description: Reader has a mutilated ear and facial scars from a wolf attack and is not happy about it, a mild form of Stockholm Syndrome.

His fingers are surprisingly gentle. You don't expect it from him, the gentleness, Jacob is not kind or caring. Jacob is not warm, not nurturing, not indulgent. Yet his thumb skims across your jaw with quiet focus. Down the side of your neck, up your chin to follow the slanted line there, then it repeats the whole procedure on a different scar. They had long healed by now and turned into uneven ridges of mismatched tissue.

It hurt when the damned wolf bit you, the next day, and for many following days; the effective and precise killing machine aimed for the throat, and if you didn't twist the last moment, would have succeeded.

Jacob never punished the wolf, it was serving its purpose, while you, you were supposed to think before acting and understand the possible consequences.

The pain could be endured and later forgotten, what could not was the humiliation of lying on the dirty ground and the shiny view of Jacob's boots growing larger until they stopped in the line of your vision. A moment of painful awareness: the escape attempt which failed so abruptly and so brutally had become laughable. Jacob grabbed your hair and shook you like a disobedient puppy. "That's on you, sweetheart. Be wary of the quiet ones, they say."

Those last words sounded as if he were talking to himself, rather than anyone else.

"I warned you."

He did.

Jacob is right, not in everything, but in many things. One can try and deny it, another can scoff, but the bottom line is the same: Jacob is right in many things, and at times it's better to listen. Even despite an involuntary gagging reaction.

Your heart hammered and every single beat of it brought to the surface what you already knew — there would be no other attempts. The paleness from fear or perhaps blood loss must've shown on your face, because he let go of you and crouched down. "Pathetic."

It lacked genuine heat, disappointment, or any emotion. Being disappointed would mean that Jacob expected something in the first place. He pulled off his jacket and pressed it to your face, stemming the bleeding. The ground seemed more interesting than ever, dry soil dotted with rocks and grass blades scattered everywhere, trampled by people's feet.

You don't want to look at him or acknowledge the touch to a small sword on your wrist, identical to the one above his left elbow. The mark is a clean reminder and a binding claim for life. You don't want to see it or remember how Jacob's face twisted when he realized just who you were.

Like someone had slapped him.

A lot has happened; Montana turned different from what you saw on TV and the world suddenly shifted under your feet, rearranged from a little road trip across the states into his territory, his commands, his people. A part of you — a foolish, soft part — wished you could've met under different circumstances, in a different place and you told him once about it in a moment of weakness. Jacob stilled at first, but then kept cleaning his gun. "We're here, sweetheart. Nothing we can do 'bout it."

Could've beens and never happeneds weren't worth wasting thoughts on.

Now Jacob is tracing your scars. He's not handsome, not really, there's too much roughness to the lines of his face, dark circles and untrimmed beard, but... you frown. You don't know how to describe Jacob Seed or why you even bother trying. It's odd to think about him this way. Weird.

Jacob catches your eyes. "What?"

You close them. "Nothing."

He makes a noncommittal sound, then leans in. The kiss to your forehead is unexpected and brief. A lot of them are — quick kisses on your temple when Jacob thinks you're asleep, on your nape when he leaves the bed before dawn. They make you wonder just what he wants from you.

He never expects affection back.

Doesn't try anything further, and you both are suspended in this limbo, neither being the first to break it, nor acknowledge its growing significance with every passing day. One part of you craves it, to yield in a different way, not because it is required, but because you want, yet Jacob doesn't ask, so perhaps it's for the better.

Another gets nauseous. He breaks people. Like dry twigs, discarding the pieces when they have no more use. You've seen his Chosen training until they begged, cried and crawled, their pride crushed along with the body.

There are days you can't bear looking at him.

***

Sometimes, sometimes, you wish him dead and gone from the world, then the mark on your wrist aches like a fresh wound.

"When will you take off the chain?" You ask and wiggle your foot a bit. It's long enough to reach the bathroom, to wander around the quarters, but not to walk outside. Jacob doesn't look up from his book. The cover is worn out and you suspect he read it many times already, military stuff. Strategy. Survival tactics, you have no idea.

"When I know you've learned your lesson."

So, not today.

You sigh and roll onto your stomach. "It's stupid."

He doesn't respond.

It's annoying more than anything. Reason — you're his soulmate, not some runaway cow ready to get lost in Montana wilderness — didn't help and only gained you a blank stare followed by a lock click. The chain rattles with each movement, loud and distracting; Jacob just keeps reading as if nothing happens.

Sometimes, sometimes, you catch yourself thinking that this isn't so bad after all. He treats you well for a cult leader: fed, clothed, clean, sheltered. Compared to the cages his future Chosen sleep in, you don't get to complain. You have a comfortable bed instead of cold dirty floor, normal meals rather than a chunk of raw meat, privacy and silence without old school music 24/7.

You frown. No, it's not nice. It's Stockholm Syndrome, plain and simple. You should be free, away from this place.

"Are you angry?"

Jacob turns another page. "No."

His room smells of pine wood and gun oil, with an undertone of metal. The furniture is scarce and practical. A wardrobe, a desk with a radio placed on top, one bookshelf. Bare walls except for a giant map pinned opposite the bed; you've memorized all the markings on it during your stay. The areas which got liberated by Deputy are red, his outposts are circled in blue. Jacob doesn't talk about Deputy much, but the way he clenches his jaw over the radio frequency makes you think they must be a real pain in the ass.

Secretly you hope they blow Eden's Gate HQ to pieces soon.

What would it mean for you?

These are questions, vague and inappropriately timed, coming to mind. What if Deputy happens to eventually tear the Project apart? They escaped John, escaped Jacob and you were to personally witness his foul mood for two days straight. You overhear bits and pieces of conversations, the Chosen talk if they think no one listens — Deputy is strong and clever. Persistent and cunning. Maybe that's the reason Jacob's so obsessed with them.

What if...

You glance at him from under your eyelashes and rub the mark. They say there's a connection between soulmates. If one dies, another experiences it on a physical level. Jacob said that was bullshit. His brother didn't confirm or deny when you asked him after a sermon.

Joseph Seed unnerves you. Not just because he believes himself to be God's vessel. There is something in his voice, quiet and soothing like the distant rolls of thunder, it raises goosebumps when he starts preaching and you're forced to sit through it. Something in his eyes behind yellow-tinted glasses sends shivers down your spine, very little to do with his religious fanaticism.

What would you feel if Jacob died?

The thought creates an unpleasant twist in your stomach, unwanted bond or not, it leaves you queasy. You curl on the bed. Jacob has reading glasses, you barely held back a snort the first time you saw them propped up his nose. He shoots a flat look from above the pages but doesn't comment on your inquisitive stare.

By now you know when to speak and to remain silent (mostly). He dislikes unruly ones and finds satisfaction showing them just how insignificant they are, how mistaken in every single sense. Weak. That's why you annoy him mildly when feeling particularly brave or in need of interaction, but never play soldier or power. It triggers something which is best avoided, gets people punished, then shot in front of others. Or sent for trials, you're not sure which is worse.

Jacob marks a page and sets the book aside. "What?"

"What 'what'?" You ask back, fiddling with the hem of a grey camouflage shirt. It's way too big on your frame, Jacob likes the look of it, judging by how much of your wardrobe consists of his stuff now that you don't leave the room.

"I can hear the wheels in your head turning, spit it out."

"What would happen to me if something... happened to you?"

You're afraid of saying 'if you die' because it's final, even though Jacob seems invincible most of the times. A mountain against hurricanes. Yet everyone dies eventually and the Deputy keeps winning against all odds set before them.

"Nothing. Joseph takes care of you."

This is news, and frankly not the answer you hoped for.

('You'd go free' was. He didn't say 'I won't die' either.)

Tension seeps into your shoulders without a conscious thought. "Why? I am nobody to him."

"You are my soulmate," Jacob replies, simple as that, like it explains everything. Perhaps in their cult world it does, but not yours.

"So?"

He pats his thigh.

It's a gesture without much interpretation required, but you stay rooted on the bed. Cautious. You've grown familiar with each other after living together for months — sharing a space tends to do this to people — still tonight is different, full with awkwardness you haven't felt since that time he walked in on you changing.

Jacob's stare is intense. Heavy, cold blue eyes linger on your wrist where the sword surrounded by flames peeks from under the long sleeve. You swallow a lump in your throat and get up on unsteady legs.

"So he will do it out of memory. You're family, pup, whether you wish it or not."

With the same caution you sit on his lap, war memories written in pink-red skin decorate his face. Just like yours, you think, the only difference is the place and origin. There's something intimate about being like this. Jacob holds you in place once you settle down, not comfortable, but not exactly uncomfortable either.

"Never took you for a cuddly type," you say to shield yourself from growing unease. "Why the change?"

Jacob's thumb presses to the corner of your lips. "Got tired of those puppy eyes staring at me the whole evening, sweetheart. You can have a closer look."

"I don't have puppy eyes. And maybe I like looking from afar."

"Yeah?"

His beard has a prickly feeling to it.

You know your face will never be the same after what happened. From his point of view, Jacob can probably see where the scars begin in the hairline, then continue downwards only an inch away from your eye; small miracles and such. Half of your ear is missing, a good solid chunk. It's not a nice look.

"Don't touch them," you mutter.

You don't mean to share your thoughts in such an abrupt manner, but these intimate moments become a source of discomfort, like a sharp, twisting knife. Jacob doesn't flinch at the sight, he probably saw worse things, still it feels humiliating being reminded of your shortcomings and the fact that this is your face — permanently marked.

Jacob doesn't stop.

"Beauty dies fast, darlin'," he says slowly. "This here... this'll stay."

He never sugarcoats anything. Never lies to spare feelings, ruthless and pragmatic with a clear understanding of what matters and what doesn't. Only the weak need empty reassurances; his words. You hate this side of Jacob just as much as admire it on occasion, right now you wish he said something else. Beauty dies fast.

"Thank you Jacob, very comforting. Top ten phrases you should tell someone who got mauled by a Judge." You cross your arms, wondering why the hell are you talking about this. With Jacob. The worst choice possible to bring up sensitive topics, or maybe the only one, since there's not a lot of people around anyway.

"I ain't here to stroke your ego, sweetheart. This," he traces a scar, "is a lesson to remember. Next time when thinking 'bout running — think again and think good."

There will be no next time regardless of how he phrases it. The chain rattles every night when you shift under the blankets and falls down with an annoying bang as soon as you get up. There's nowhere to run too, the Whitetail Mountains belong to Jacob, he rules them like a king would rule his kingdom, with iron fist and strict order, and who knows what the local Resistance will do to you if they catch you first.

If they figure out whose soulmate you are.

You're trapped between the Deputy destroying outposts and Jacob hunting them across the region, like a mouse stuck in a corner while cats keep prowling around.

The sky outside has an orange-pink hue, casting Jacob's face into soft light and deep shadows. He takes off his glasses, setting them on the book's cover, then wipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye. "You gonna cry over looks?"

You sniffle. "Yes. I wish I never met you."

He stiffens. For a second you worry it might have pushed a wrong button. Jacob never hurt you physically, still there's a healthy dose of fear, not necessarily born out of past experiences. At times his presence just radiates off in silent waves so thick you can feel them crashing into yourself before he walks away and doesn't return for days, leaving you alone with the Chosen stationed behind the doors to watch over and report back to their Herald.

Jacob leans closer until your foreheads almost press into each other.

He doesn't initiate touch often. Once in a while he lets you sleep on his arm instead of a pillow or allows you to sit closer than usual during meals, but that's it. There are boundaries set, most of them are unspoken rules which you picked up along the way: you can ask questions and be generally yourself within reason — as long as it doesn't border on disrespect, Jacob will tolerate occasional attitude in very small doses; you can request certain items provided he approves; he prefers silence during breakfast.

Never challenge him publicly and don't talk bad about his siblings.

This confession can't be taken back, nor do you wish to, because it's true. You regret meeting him, and it was much better to wonder and guess, create images of a faceless man somewhere in the depths of your mind and fantasize about possibilities. How does one even go back to normal life after this?

(Not that any chance of doing so exists in the foreseeable future.)

"I figured, darlin'," Jacob says finally. His voice lacks anger, as if he expected those words one day or another, Jacob isn't naive or stupid and is surprisingly aware of himself in a lot of matters, of the fact that very little would want to end up where he dragged you and being imprisoned under the heavy metal chain doesn't add to fond memories either. "Fair enough."

In all months you two lived together, sharing food and space, in all months, he never kissed you.

Now he does.

His lips are chapped, dry and slightly rough.

You find yourself going rigid at first, unsure what to make out of it. It's different from what you imagined, the fantasy version seemed more... violent and harsh, less intimate and private. He breaks the kiss briefly and then resumes it again.

Slow-slow-quick, Jacob steals your breath away bit by bit until your head spins, until your hands feel clammy and then, when you think you can't take it any longer, he pulls back.

"Won't apologize 'bout the scars, pup. You deserved a lesson."

Your throat feels parched.

"But not of this kind. Never wanted it for you."

It doesn't sound apologetic, neither regretful, but it is what it is, probably the closest to it Jacob will ever be capable of. His hand strokes the back of your neck in slow and repetitive circles, and in an odd way, it does seem soothing.

He takes you to bed minutes later, maneuvers you closer under the sheets and turns off the light. The window is open letting in the sounds of evening wildlife: crickets chirp loudly nearby, some owl hoots in the distance; Montana smells different than other states. Sharper, wilder. You lie like this for a bit, curled against his side and he's always so fucking warm, a human furnace incarnate.

"The moment I saw the marking — I wished you never met me too."

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 #jacob seed #jacob seed x reader

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lostamongthestarz · 3 months

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Shout out to my gay thoughts when I started far cry new dawn

Started for Thomas Rush, ended up with Vaas as my favorite

Vaas x Trans!male reader

Fandom: Far Cry/Far cry 3

Character: Vaas montenegro

Warnings: Vaas himself counts as someone who needs a warning.

════ ⋆★⋆ ═══

❗❗FEM READERS DO NOT INTERACT, DO NOT FETISHIZE MY WRITING, I WRITE THESE HEADCANONS FOR MY FELLOW TRANS MEN❗❗

════ ⋆★⋆ ═══

For these headcanons your just gonna be living on the island - somehow you managed to stay clear of everything that was happening

Until one night your awaken by a very injured Vaas, not being the one to let people bleed out on your floors - you help him.

This leads to more visits from Vaas, should he be? no, does he give a shit? no

════ ⋆★⋆ ═══

☆-->PDA, Vaas has his hands either on your hip or on your waist. he does not care.

☆-->if he spends the night? good luck getting up, I hope you don't need anything, but Vaas is clinging onto you like his life depends on it.

☆-->I don't know if he'd go all out with the petnames but maybe some basic ones

Cariño Amor

Pretty boy (I'm not sorry)

☆-->Maybe some other ones if you gain his trust enough, Vaas has a twisted sense of love in his mind. (holy fuck his backstory scares me)

☆-->You are the definition of "I can't fix him but I can indulge in his silly antics" (the silly antics being literally every crime he commits but 90% of the time your a bystander.)

☆-->he won't hesitate to murder a man if they tried to pull some shit, your his boy and he's not sharing.

☆-->yeah hes possessive as fuck (maybe protective but who knows) - everyone knows not to fuck with you unless they want to meet god.

☆--> wear his tanktop after he spends the night, congratulations you've just sealed your fate. You look good in his clothes he half the time doesn't take them back unless he really needs them.

☆-->The god of PDA, this mf will steal a kiss any chance he gets. Doesn't care who's around.

════ ⋆★⋆ ═══

I'm so normal about him (lying)

My inbox is open 💌

Requests open <3

#x male reader #x trans male reader #x reader #vaas montenegro #far cry #far cry 3 #far cry x reader

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alessiathepirate · 2 months

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FAR CRY 6

IT WASN'T THE ONLY COPY: Juan Cortez x fem!reader

Summary: Since Juan forced her to stay on the couch until her wound is fully healed, she had to find something interesting to do.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

My Spanish isn't the best so if you find a word / phrase used in the wrong context or anything please let me know so I can improve :)

Warnings: swearing, referenced violence

•••

Ever since she got hurt back in Isla Santuario, Juan forced her into safety, not letting her engage in any fight at all. And even though it felt nice to know he cared for her that much, staying behind while the others took care of the dirty work - the fun work - quickly became boring and a bit annoying.

Even after they got back to Zamok Archipiélago, she still had to stay behind and let Dani go after the Monteros alone. Nor Clara, nor Juan wanted her to run around - even though the Jefa was still doing that with a not fully healed bullet wound.

The furthest place Juan let her go to, was his office - otherwise she had to rest on the couch above it, slowly rotting away. After she kept on insisting, he finally let her help him work on resolvers and supremos, while they shared a glass of alcohol. That's where she put together the small lamp, what she could attach to books and read comfortably - because the lighting 'upstairs' was shit.

Juan was out again - getting more alcohol to drink or cigars to smoke most likely, because those past few weeks he barely left her side. So she spent her time doing something more fun than getting crazy on the damn couch - she was reading with her back against the pillow and her legs stretched out to not put pressure on her stomach.

She was already halfway through it when she heard the footsteps, and they got closer and closer until she could clearly see Juan, who was on his way toward her with a bottle of whisky.

She put her book aside. A great bottle of whisky was a rarity in Yara.

"Back already?" she asked with a smile as she sat up carefully, making some space for Juan on the couch.

"Sí. Jefa needed some help with the comms, but I still got something for you." he explained as he sat down.

"Finally some good whisky." she said happily as she leaned forward to rest her chin on Juan's shoulder while he poured some alcohol for the both of them. "Does Clara need help with anything? And how's Dani doing in Madrugada?"

"Don't worry about it cariño, they can take care of themselves."

"I can take care of myself too." she explained, wanting to get out and do something fun.

"I know you can." she took one glass from him. "But until you're ready to go out and fuck Castillo's shit up again, you'll stay here and get drunk with me."

She drank up the whisky, enjoying the taste it left in her mouth, then let Juan light up a cigar.

"I just wanna go out and shoot at some FND assholes."

"Sí, corazón, I want that too and I can't wait for you try the resolver weapons I put together for you, but a good guerrilla is never impatient."

She raised her eyebrows. "That's not even a rule!"

"It is."

"No, it's not!"

"It is when you're such a loca guerrilla who wants to run around with a wound like that." he gave her his cigar, sharing it with her as he looked at her stomach what was still covered in bandages under one of Juan's shirts.

"I don't want to run around, I just want to help."

"And you'll help by being Juan's asistente in the office."

She gave the cigar back to Juan and put her chin back on his shoulder. His free arm hugged her close, being surprisingly gentle.

"Fine. I can take a few more days." she agreed. "As long as I'll be your asistente."

She pulled her legs up, getting closer to Juan, trying to enjoy his presence. He'll get back to his office soon - he always does, so she tried to enjoy every minute being close to him while he smoked.

Her movement made the book move as well. That was the reason why Juan noticed it in the first place, just as he finished his cigar.

"Is that my book?"

She grabbed it and gave it to him. The small lamp she put together was still on it.

"Yeah. I wanted to read something interesting while I was healing."

"I thought I destroyed the last copy of it when that hijo de puta called the FND on me at the bar."

"I put one aside." she explained. "You talked about Kyrat a lot, but you never mentioned the KGB before. Or the Colombian guerrillas."

"If I talk about them now will you sit on your ass 'til you're fine?"

She chuckled.

"You make it sound like I'm annoying you."

"You're never annoying me, cariño. But your damn stubbornness does."

"If I wasn't this stubborn," she began as she pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. "I wouldn't be dating Juan Cortez. So you better love my stubbornness too, mi amor."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. She sighed, breathing in his presence and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.

"Did you make this?" he asked, referring to the lamp.

"Yeah. You had some scrap around so I got creative."

"That's why you're my favourite asistente." he praised and her heart fluttered. "So where were you?"

"I was reading abbout the Colombian guerrillas when you came in."

So Juan started to talk about it. And the next thing too what came up in his book -- and the next... He spoke and she listened. They drank up their whisky and smoked a few more cigars.

When Juan was around to talk to and listen to, she didn't mind at all that he was so damn protective of her.

#juan cortez x reader #juan cortez x fem!reader #far cry x reader #far cry 6 #juan cortez

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fr0gg3rrr · 1 month

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BOLD AND BRAVE

john seed x fem!deputy

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

4.8k words.

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you cut your hair?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, so Kim delivered fine then?”

“Mmhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes? What about it?”

“There's a lie right there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

“Deputy.”

“John - c'mon, it's not fair…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Should I make you say it again?”

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