Jack's Right Hand

Formerly SSRhack AO3 JacksRightHand Rhack (Borderlands) & Deputy x Seeds (Far Cry 5) content

[jacksrighthand]

Hey

I'm Jack's Right Hand, or JRH.

I write fanfiction for adults as jacksrighthand over on AO3. Current fandoms: Borderlands (mainly Rhack), tLoZ, and Far Cry 5 (Deputy x Seeds). My work features heavy angst and dark themes. Always read the tags, and no minors allowed. Some work shown below:

These Accursed Stars

Borderlands, Completed, 253,400 words, Rhack

In a universe where one’s soulmate is found through touch, all Timothy wants is to find his missing piece. But when you look like someone else, finding your true love is more than a little complicated.

Jack never cared about finding his soulmate — he has loved and lost, and moved on. Soulmates were for people who don’t choose their destiny, but have it handed to them.

And Rhys… Rhys just wants to do his goddamn job. And maybe get laid on the side.

Nothing Beside Remains

Borderlands, WIP, Rhack

After years of work, Handsome Jack’s plan to take revenge on those who dared to betray him is ready, until everything is upended by the arrival of a sass-mouthed salaryman who knows far more than he should.

Lend 'im a Hand

Borderlands, Completed, 139,377 words, Rhack vs Rhysothy

Rhys Strongfork sits alone in his office, anxiously awaiting Zane’s return from his latest adventure with a new friend in tow. Disturbed by a glimpse of a ghost from his past, Rhys soon remembers something he had hidden away, something he had done his best to ignore for the last seven years.   Or: A story of three idiots trying to overcome their past mistakes.

He Spoke of Solace

Far Cry 5, WIP, Rook x the Seed brothers

Rook has always struggled to define his purpose in life. How nice of the Seeds to have found one for him.

A Hero Lost to Time

tLoZ, Completed, 173,823 words, Ganlink, Sidlink, Link x OC

The Hero of Time wakes to a strange, but somehow familiar land. He knows the faces, but not where he stands among them. In a world where he cannot trust even himself, can he survive long enough to find his way back home?

Apocrypha of Time

Sequel to AHLtT, Completed, 80,805 words, Ganlink, Sidlink, Link x OC, Link x m Sheik

Just as the Hero of Time was starting to feel like he could belong in the Champion's world, he was visited by a nightmare from his past.

Now, those he once called his enemies must rally together to save him -- and themselves -- from the shadow's ever expanding reach.

[phenikas]

@loader-bot here she is!!! haven't done a Maya render in ages :D

[squickymuse]

When Staci does good with his training for the day, he gets a special treat 😌

[jacksrighthand]

Oh, John!

Thanks to an old post from @ padme4000farcry for the tattoos, those are killer.

[jacksrighthand]

Meanwhile...

[jacksrighthand]

Oh, John!

Thanks to an old post from @ padme4000farcry for the tattoos, those are killer.

[jacksrighthand]

In case you missed it, "He Spoke of Solace" was updated. (John Seed x Deputy this chapter, but read ALL the tags)

snippet tags: John Seed x m Deputy, sexual interaction

Before John departed, he had found Rook’s weak spot. Mouthed across the back of Rook’s neck and bit down, sending delirious shocks through his system. Rook had whimpered and writhed beneath it, numb, and John had lingered there, his teeth steadfast, and whispered that charged “Confess.”

“Eat me,” Rook had murmured, half-hearted. John looked ready to take it as a challenge. It was the reverberations of the helicopter ascending over the compound that shook them from their reverie, a reminder of their cold, hard reality.

Something clarified in John’s gaze. The veil lifted. He drew his fingers away, prying against his flesh, and left without another word, Rook left staring at the ceiling in a daze. Read it here.

[lammertart]

I had to…..

[jacksrighthand]

CW/tags: torture, blood, injuries, angst, fc5, Jacob Seed x Staci Pratt

There was blood in his mouth. Thick around his gums and oozing from his lips, igniting in the lacerations that split them into ribbons of flesh. A hole throbbed where one of his molars was missing, and his incisor trembled with each ragged exhale. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth, itchy where it ran down to his bruised chin.

His head pounded, so dulled by the throbbing headache that he couldn’t lift his neck. His vision doubled and tripled, danced and flickered. Flashed with light and dark and red, but always that dim room. The depths of the bunker, where he was made to wait, to rot.

His body rippled with pain. Bruise upon bruise. Scratches, cuts, puncture wounds. Burns marks and crushing bindings. A couple of ribs had to be broken, rubbing at his lungs in his mind’s eye, each breath rattling. The rest was numb, cold, shivering.

Didn’t matter. Because he wasn’t fuckin’ weak anymore. He would prove it. He would.

“...it’s time.”

It was murmured, quiet resignation. Anticipation, perhaps. He stood at the monitors, back to him, haloed in the light of all those screens. Was smilin’ when he turned, all calm, eerily so, even for him. The shift in his demeanour was subtle, unnoticeable by any else, maybe, but it was all Staci could see. Jacob Seed, the soldier, his gaze hard set. His mission nearing its end. He’d sent Rook after Eli, and all that was left was to put him down.

When he crouched at his feet, Staci didn’t move. He wouldn’t flinch, wouldn’t blink, cuz’ that was weakness, and even now — even now! — he wanted to serve, to bow his head. Jacob chuckled at him anyway. Touched him, like he did sometimes, all soft, reassuring. Set fingers on his jawline in a way he remembered too well. Staci almost leaned into it, part of him conditioned, part of him comforted.

“And what will you do?” Jacob breathed. Rested a hand on his knee to stroke and squeeze. Staci’s eyes hung on it, miserable for that fluttering in his abdomen.

The hand on his jaw slid forward, coaxing. Agony crackled through every laceration and Staci remained silent, his lips parting for Jacob’s rough fingers. Something was placed onto his tongue, pressed down hard.

“Now you hold that there,” he murmured. “Until I get back.”

Staci hummed — I promise — the muscles in his neck screaming away. Then Jacob left, and he almost cried.

Did, a little. Too dehydrated for much, considering it was all goin’ to his mouth. It was hard not to choke on the metallic tang that bled into his tongue. His jaw began to weaken, too soon, so he pressed harder, a whimper loosed when he almost spat it out, bile torching his throat. Touched the tip of his tongue against it and felt letters — that misspelling he used to stroke under his thumb. The numbers he’d memorized as he watched Jacob’s chest rise and fall as he slept. He could taste him, taste Jacob, and steel, and blood.

Time began to blur. What could’ve been only minutes stretched into hours, days. Staci could focus only on the task he’d been given, keeping his lips together, keeping that strip of metal pinned to the roof of his mouth. Any time his eyelids fell and his shoulders slumped, he forced himself awake, tipping his head back and almost swallowing the fucking thing. He stared at the monitors and slipped away, vision blurring.

He would survive this. He would survive like he had the helicopter crash, the abduction, the conditioning. The weeks of torment and wolves and teeth. When Jacob’s eyes began to linger and the nature of his touch changed while the whispers of praise stayed the same. He was strong now. He would survive.

And when Jacob returned from killing his partner, Staci would open his mouth for him to take it back. For him to see — he was good. He wasn’t weak, wasn’t a traitor. Rook had to go. It was better this way. Better he wasn’t a distraction, wasn’t that obsession. Staci would be for Jacob what Rook couldn’t be. He would be strong, loyal, and Jacob would—

“Pratt?”

When Staci lifted his head, his insides went cold. His mind, silent. He stared back, listless, as Rook stepped into the room.

“Hell,” Rook cursed, his gaze pitying, or guilty. He set his gun on the floor and reached for him. “I've got you.”

No. Staci kicked back, a motion that took Rook by surprise. No, no, no.

“Staci?” he tried again, wavering. “It’s me, partner. It’s Rook. I’ve got you, okay?”

He had enough left in him to cry, after all. Felt the heat of it on his raw skin, cheeks burning. He dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut, screaming through his teeth, his lips. Steel rattled in his mouth and he screamed around it, saliva trailing onto his thighs.

“C’mon, Pratt, hey, look at me—”

Staci shivered. Lifted his head, guided by Rook’s touch.

“He’s dead,” Rook breathed. “It’s all over.”

His tongue twitched. Brushed Jakob.

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

…no.

He succumbed to that agony in his neck. Dropped his head, letting his jaw fall. The dog tag tumbled down his lap. Hit the ground with a soft ting, ting! Rook looked at it with a frown, and Staci only wept.

[havinganormalone]

Fanfiction is insane. You can write porn so good you make friends.

[mong-mongi]

Dragon age style tarot card for my boy (he has no clue what's coming)

Details:

[squickymuse]

✨ In my Far Cry 5 era ✨

Full versions of the 2 more obviously cropped ones are on my Twitter 🫡

[jacksrighthand]

heeeey deputy...

[chizups]

Can't take him seriously. Who's fault is that?

[vvvermw]

a part of me you

[jacksrighthand]

"Good." Yes, Herald. "Cull the herd." I will. "Perfect." A twitch of muscle disturbs the way his neck hangs, his head heavy. There is heat present in his chest, as it always is when Jacob speaks, murmurs, encourages. It permeates past his ribs, slipping through hollows of meat, filling him completely. It is all he knows and understands, that voice, those commands, bow your head and obey. He will, he does, he is good and strong, he is. That Jacob's words are meant for someone else pursues that sensation of warmth with cold fissures that crackle across his flesh. Hatred, envy, as his gaze flickers toward the Junior Deputy. Rook, who he'd once shared beers with. Gone shooting with. Spent hours getting to know, to enjoy, before the world began to end. He sits there, slumped in that seat, those bindings Staci knew to be tight, lacerating. There are still faint scars from them on his own wrists. Jacob hovers over him. Longer than he usually does, longer than he should. His whispers are more precise, more devoted. An order of the Father's, Staci promises himself. That's all it is -- Rook was predestined. Staci is just-- "Perfect," Jacob mutters again, his fingers slipping across Rook's bound forearm. He is meat. Another twitch, Staci's lip, that sneer. There and gone. Not so soon that Jacob doesn't see it, his own mouth quirking with a smile.

[phenikas]

been a while, have some rhack :3

[jacksrighthand]

"He Spoke of Solace" has been updated. Snippet below, read the tags, no minors, very nsfw, etc. Snippet warnings: suggestive content, threats of violence.

“I’m made of spite, John. Not sure which sin that involves—”

“Envy?” “But I thought somebody ought to remind you of the virtues you’ve neglected,” he grinned. “Made the most sense to begin with humility.”

“‘Humility.’”

John set the screwdriver aside and drew out a pair of needle nose pliers. He tapped them against his palm and strode across to where Rook sat, head tilted to survey. Rook steeled himself, ready for pain, until John rested one hand on his shoulder, braced, then maneuvered into place to straddle Rook’s legs. He settled in his lap, too close, the blood draining from Rook’s face when the pliers neared his face.

“I am going to ‘humbly’ extract your sins from you,” he breathed, tapping the tool on his cheek. They were lowered past his navel, used to grip his belt buckle. “I will ‘graciously’ mark them on your skin.” The belt clicked open, and metal slipped between his shirt and pants, cold against his navel. “And I will ‘modestly’ strip them from you.”

Rook shifted his pelvis to alleviate a troubling swell of interest, and the pliers dug hard lines down toward his groin. John leaned back, smirking at the prongs that peeked out from his stomach.

“Or not so modestly.”

A nervous laugh escaped Rook. “What happened to us doing ‘beautiful things together’?”

John slid a finger down the pliers, giving them a wiggle.

“This is beautiful,” he murmured.

--

Read it here.