#farcry5v

“I don’t care,” she barked at the man, one of Jacob’s men. “He’s the boss out there and I’m the boss in here and I said no,” she frowned, glaring at the much larger man. There were bags under her eyes from the long hours she worked; plus it wasn’t like she was going to ever get any kind of good sleep while under Jacob’s thumb. The screams that lingered in the air always had her on edge and that damned song. Some days she was tempted to take her own life simply to have some peace and quiet again.

“I’m not running a vets office,” she added, eyeing the wolf at the man’s side. “Either it goes to the kennel so I can treat your injury or you can suck it up and deal with it on your own.” She didn’t wait for a response as she turned away, moving back into the building that had been converted into a clinic for her. As far as she was concerned it was more of a butchers.

She heard the man leave, but minutes later the door opened again. She assumed it was the soldier back to argue again and she turned to lay into him for a third time, but stopped short to see Jacob standing there. Her heart skipped a beat and she was sure she paled, but that didn’t stop her from frowning at him.

“What?”

@prophesyr​ said - “ crying doesn’t make you weak. ”

“Feels like it does,” she sniffled, wiping at her face ineffectively to hide her tears. She didn’t like others seeing her cry. Being a petite woman already made others assume she was weak; crying only perpetuated that opinion in her mind.

@sacramentalis​ said - “ you had me so worried ! ” / sarcastic john!

Frowning, the petite blonde glared up at the Herald, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her work. “What do you want?” she snapped, scribbling more notes down as she tried to focus on her work. She felt John still looming and with a defeated sigh she set her clipboard down, turning to face him once more.

Little one?

Typically, she didn’t care when people poked fun at her height; she was used to it. However, she knew that isn’t what Jacob meant. Blue eyes narrowed in annoyance and a muscle along her jaw jumped. She might be small, but she knew how to handle herself; she’d had to learn the hard way when working as a dancer.

One hand curled into a small fist and she let it fly, solidly connecting with Jacob’s jaw. It hurt like hell and she was certain that she’d bruised her knuckles, if not worse, but she didn’t care. The pain was worth it. Still glaring up at the eldest Seed, she refrained from rubbing her sore hand and instead held his gaze, anger blazing in her own.

“Fuck. You.”

She hadn’t meant for her question to come across as harsh as it had and had flinched the moment the words had left her lips. She was honestly surprised he’d answered her at all given her attitude and nodded, trying to see things from his point of view.

If she were in his shoes, would she be any different?

“I know,” she admitted after a moment, looking away as a bit of color painted her cheeks. “You don’t want to think about it. No one does, but then you end up in a place like this and... everything you thought you knew doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, a sheepish expression flitting across her features as she met his gaze again.

“Sorry,” she continued. “I didn’t mean to come off like that... I get why you do what you do, honest... Don’t know that I could do it,” she shrugged.

Belly swollen with their child, Melody waddled from one side of the room to the other, one hand on her stomach and the other on her lower back. "Can't sleep. Our seedling has been beating up my insides for hours…" she muttered, fed up with their child's aspirations of being a boxer.

"I'm fine," she assured the sleepy Herald, her gaze tired as she continued her pacing. In truth, she was exhausted, but jittery at the same time. She felt like something was going to happen. Something major, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what that might be.

"You can't be serious," she snapped, looking up from the paperwork he'd just handed her. "This is unrealistic, even by your standards," she added, her annoyance mounting as he simply dismissed her concerns.

"No, it won't work itself out! You want me to do my job, plus train field medics? What next, train squirrels for recognizance? I can't do it all John! I'm one person! I'm not even qualified for any of this," she tossed the papers back at him and turned to storm from his study; she was pissed.

John was a lot faster than anyone gave him credit for, Melody included, and she'd barely taken more than a few steps before she found herself dragged to a halt. His hand encompassed her forearm and she whirled on him, a finger raised along with her voice. He looked as angry as she was, his eyes dark, but she didn't back down as he forced her to face him, her index finger jabbing into his chest repeatedly.

"You think you're all powerful! A fucking big shot! You come to my home and kidnap me. Force me to work for you day and night. I've given you everything I fucking have and you still want more," she raged, tears threatening to fall. "I fucking hate you," she spat and her back roughly collided with the wall as he spit venom right back, her wrists now held firmly against her sides by tattooed hands. 

She was ready to lash out in any way she could, consequences be damned, but John pressed closer and his lips landed against her ear. He was rambling threats, threats she knew he couldn't afford to follow through with, but they scared her regardless. Panting, she strained against his hold on her, head turned aside.

She didn't notice he'd stopped speaking until he pressed closer still, his hands shifting to her hips. Her head hurt and she relaxed into him, forehead against his chest as they both caught their breath. The tension in the air shifted and seconds later their lips collided together harshly, anger still woven into their actions as they clawed to get at one another's clothing.

She'd always promised herself that she would never be one of John's conquests. She was shit at keeping promises to herself. However, after her most recent encounter with the Herald of Holland Valley she wished to God she had. She never did right by herself.

This time she was going to hold to her convictions. He worked her to the bone and then expected her to spread her legs happily for him? Fuck. That. She was tired of his shit and tired of letting herself down. 

Either the man was psychic or someone had heard her mumbling under her breath about him and snitched. John Seed actually showed up on her doorstep with flowers. Sure, they were wild flowers, but they were flowers nonetheless. Confused, her ire stalled and she allowed him inside her modest cabin, brow knit in confusion.

"Those don't make up for," she didn't get to finish her complaint as suddenly she found her lips captured by his. God, he was a good kisser and he smelled so good. Her resolve crumbled as his teeth scraped along her bottom lip, his lips traveling along her jaw to her neck. Groaning softly, she was putty in his hands and nimble fingers worked to get his vest and shirt unbuttoned; she wanted to feel his skin beneath her hands.

Strong hands lifted her up and her legs went around his waist, her ass landing on her kitchen counter. Just as she worked to get his clothes off, he did the same with her, large hands gripping tight to pale flesh as it was revealed.