Jacob Seed x Reader

Five

"Fuck...", you cursed and sunk back into the back seat.

Jacob turned left, the car stopped for a moment.

Outside the window, people moved and voices sounded. He rolled down the window, looked at a man and handed him something.

The man nodded, raised his hand and the gate opened.

Jacob started the engine again, the tires rolled and the landscape started to move again.

In the distance, a huge house appeared. Long tracks spread across the grass, people trained and shouted. It looked a lot like a training camp, almost professional even.

Cages surrounded the area. Their thick, black metal bars shimmered in the distance, holding things captive that was a well hidden secret.

"A military base?", you mumbled to yourself.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips and he nodded. But no word left his lips.

You noticed that whenever he liked something or thought about anything, he lifted his chin and rubbed the exposed neck with the back of his hand. This movement ruffled the short, red hair that overgrew his throat.

There was a very little bit of gray in between all the orange. So he was indeed much older than you had previously assumed. Instead of being in his mid thirties he probably was closer to mid forties or early fifties.

From his injuries and the way he moved, you guessed that he had served in some kind of war. Most of the big wars were some time ago, he was clearly too young for Vietnam, but his clothes didn't match the modern missions that were being conducted in Afghanistan these days.

However, there had been many missions in that country, so perhaps he was one of the first soldiers that had been send off to fight for freedom and democracy and show how much better the States were than the Russians.

From a distance, you couldn't read the numbers or letters on his dog tags, so you had to guess.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?", you asked, watching his reaction closely.

You've had your faire share of encounters with soldiers and there were exactly two types of them.

One was the bragger, the ones that took nothing but pride in their military duties and expected everyone to treat them like gods. They were physically unable to shut up and not tell everybody what they accomplished and how great heroes they were.

The second kind was a bitter one. Most of those soldiers have had traumatic experiences, heavy injuries or even looked death in the eye. Usually, they were bitter and did not like to talk about anything that could cause past pain to return. It was hard for them to find anything good in the past and all that was left for it was mockery.

Jacob didn't seem like neither of those types. He was proud of his past, otherwise he wouldn't still wear the uniform. However, talking about it did not seem to be at the top of his list either.

His lips twitched upward briefly, white teeth showing. For a hillbilly, he had surprisingly good teeth. He didn't seem dirty either, even his smell was bearable, although he seemed to spend most of his time outside.

"You're too curious.", his voice sounded angered, as if he had to force himself not to growl.

A sore point, you thought, and had to bite your lip to keep from smirking.

At that moment he seemed so angry that it didn't seem impossible to get a punch in the face. But your curiosity was so great at that moment that you allowed yourself to do something stupid. You repeated the question.

"Iraq or Afghanistan?", you pressed your back further into the back seat.

Maybe the soft plotter would swallow you if you tried hard enough. Then it would protect you, either from certain death or his raging fury. Although both were almost the same thing.

Suddenly the car stopped abruptly, so abruptly that you slid forward and hit your head against the front seat. A startled scream escaped you, then a throbbing pain jetted through your head. Before your eyes, the world briefly went black, everything moved. The sound of a door opening reached your ears.

Suddenly a hand grabbed you. The grip was surprisingly rough, so rough that you had to cry out in pain.

With an annoyed growl, Jacob dragged you out of the car. Then he let go of you again and gave you a shove.

You stumbled, still shaky on your feet. You were dizzy, your eyes just getting used to the sun again. As you fell to the ground, sharp stones pierced your hands and dust filled your nose. You had to sneeze, only to realise that it wasn't dust.

It smelled strange, almost chemical. And it looked a little like cocaine. But a lot thinner and less white.

"W-what is that?", you asked, shivering.

He never answered that question.

"Get up.", Jacob reached out and grabbed your hair, forcing you to your feet. "If you can't walk, you can't survive."

You gasped.

His grip on your hair was so strong that he didn't even let go when you tried to scratch him. His hand felt unusually rough, as if it were covered with sand and a thousand tiny grains had eaten into his skin to burn and harden like a second layer.

What was hidden below this shell?

A monster?

"Get. Up.", his voice was as cold as ice as he pushed you into the house.

He was getting impatient. Strange, he usually wasn't bothered by incapable people. But somehow, you made his blood boil by simply looking at him.

He hated it. A lot.

Immediately, you felt cold air brush over your skin. It was so cold that goosebumps crawled up your spine. You had to shake yourself, but it didn't help anything.

Leading you through a door, Jacob forced you into a room that was so dark you could barely see anything. Your eyes jumped through the darkness, trying to find something that seemed normal or familiar.

But the room looked as welcoming as hell.

Jacob's grip around your shoulder tightened. He pressed you down, into a cold leather seat, and chained you down.

Slowly, almost gently, he kneeled by your side. As his eyes met yours, a shiver crawled down his spine.

"Those eyes...", he mumbled and smiled mildly. "I'll make that spark disappear. I'll break it."

His hand gently stroked a strand of your (H/C) hair out of your face.

"I'll make you obey me.", he whispered into your ear.