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Current fixations/muses: FARCRY 5, most people, including the Seed family, Sharky(👉🏼👈🏼) and ehoever you wanna think about on fc5, Ryan Reynolds as Guy(free guy, not croods)/ Deadpool / Or Jerry hickfang, Avatar and Avatar TWOW (F&A COMING SOON!!!)
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🔞NSFW/ 18+ content (MDNI)
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FarCry 5
🌑Stuck in a Seedy Situation Masterlist WIP
Prologue out now!
Marvel
✨️🔥Family Reunion: Coming Soon
Logan Howlett/Wolverine
🌑Cigar Smoke and Sleepless Nights
Parts One Two Three Four Five Six seven eight(in Works)
✨️Couch Cuddles
🔞Not Just a One Night Stand
🔥✨️ Not the Worst
✨️Early Mornings
SFW ALPHABET
🔞NSFW ALPHABET
🌑We don't have to Dance
Parts: One Two three(in works)
✨️🔞Second Chances do Happen
🔥Not My Girl |Wade x Reader x Logan|
Wade Wilson/ Deadpool
🔥Not My Girl |Wade x Reader x Logan|
Dividers and graphics by @saradika, @moosgraphics @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics
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synopsis: from walking to school together as kids to sharing an apartment in college, you and sukuna have always been attached at the hip. it used to be fine, it used to feel normal, having him at arms reach was just second-nature. now, as you two have gotten older, it's become unbearable.
cw: MDNI, college au, roommate au, childhood best friends to lovers, readers a little insecure, smut, light angst, oral (f receiving), p in v, there’s so much pinning and yearning in this one, kuna’s lw so funny he already thinks you’re dating in his head LMAO.
notes: 8.8k words!! i never do milestone events, but i just hit one and wanted to write this as a thank to all of you❤️
song rec: bags - clairo
After over a decade, you still don’t understand how you and Sukuna are friends— best friends, at that. Half the time, he’s kind of a grump. He’ll act like he’s bored with you, like he has somewhere better to be.
And surprisingly, he did.
But you can count on Sukuna to drag you there with him– whether it be to an underground fight club for robots, built by the geeks that were controlling them, or a mixer held in some science museum, which is actually pretty fun, by the way. Both are.
This nerd had a fucking life.
It wasn’t always like this. He used to be an unsociable loser who’d scoff at the thought of going to parties. Now you’re in some beat-up, dimly lit warehouse, watching him holler along with the rest of the crowd, cheering on the robot he placed a bet on. The expensive cologne he randomly decided to switch to, managing to reach your nose, reminding you how much he’s changed.
Next weekend, it’ll be the robot he’s spent months building that’ll be fighting in the ring, and it’ll most likely win because he’s just as smart as he is handsome.
A genius, even.
You guess he’s just one of those people who really grew into themselves after leaving their hometowns. Flourish, even. He joined clubs, made friends, even dated a couple of girls.
As much as you loved watching him come out of his shell and become someone who smiled a little more and hated people a little less, a part of you wishes you never gone to the same university together. The admiration you’ve had for him since you were kids has only grown. Some nights it’s so unbearable that you lie awake trying and failing to control that ache you get in your chest from knowing you would always just be a friend to him.
He’d never even consider you when thinking about what kind of girl he’d want to be with.
Meanwhile, you’re finding it harder and harder to control your heart rate whenever you really look at him, realizing just how much of a man he’s become within these last couple of years. The braces are gone, his eyes have gotten sharper, his jawline’s stronger, and is now surprisingly covered in tattoos. He even started working out in his freshman year, and after studying the science of bodybuilding and proper nutrition, half the gym started wondering if he had started taking steroids. The other half wondered if they’d be able to fuck him.
You understand them. He’s huge. Tearing your eyes off of him is hard.
The glasses definitely make him more approachable, but if there’s one thing about him that’s stayed consistent over the years, it’s that smart ass mouth of his.
He fucking hated the attention he started receiving after getting hotter, and it comes out when he has to tell someone to fuck off so he can finish his damn workout. He doesn’t go there to fuck around and socialize with a bunch of idiots that don’t know how to isolate their own muscle groups. He just goes to get his reps out of the way so he can go back home and continue studying.
The whole time, he’s completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve grown to like it when he’s not home— that you’ve started to prefer his absence.
Yes, you two share an apartment together. Roommates. It’s fucking torture— watching him take naps on the couch, the small glimpses of him half naked as he walks out of the bathroom after a shower, late nights spent studying together at the dining room table.
Even now, as you stand in a loud, crowded warehouse with him, it’s torture. All you want to do is look at him, watch all the faces he makes, and the way his muscles flex as he pumps his fist in the air. But no– you had to force yourself to look forward, watching two mid-sized robots pummel each other to death.
You feel bad for whoever's going to lose, all that time they spent on building the damn thing wasted in just one night.
Sukuna doesn’t take forever to leave once the fight’s done— he’s more of the Irish goodbye type. Had it been the opposite, you would’ve stood around awkwardly, waiting for him since he was the only one you knew here. You’d like to think you wouldn’t have come at all, but he would’ve found a way to drag you here.
You two practically did everything together— it’s always been like this.
The ride home is quiet. It’s one of those nights where neither of you remembers to connect your phones to the speakers and play music, all that can be heard is the low thrum of the car's engine and drops of water tapping against the metal. He notices you looking out the window, watching the raindrops fall as you absentmindedly bite on your nails. You never bite on them unless there’s something wrong.
“You alright?”
“Hm?” The question snaps you out of it, but still, you lie. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He tries to keep his eyes on the road, but looks back at you a couple of times. That's a bullshit answer. He can read you better than anyone else can.
“You sure? You’re lookin’ a little…” There’s a pause as he does some weird hand gesture toward you. “Off.”
“Off?” you let out a small laugh, looking at the phone to check the time. “I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s already one in the morning.”
He all but hums in response as he drops the subject, feeling tired himself and growing impatient at the thought of getting into his bed to sleep. He’d probably be speeding home right now if you weren’t in the car with him.
The lack of response doesn’t translate well, furthering the belief that he just doesn’t care that much.
You weren’t fine. Truth be told, you haven’t been fine for a while now. It happened slowly, until one day over the summer, you looked at him and a realization crashed over you, and quite frankly, scared the shit out of you. It wasn’t just admiration or an innocent crush.
You love him.
And there was nothing you could do about it.
—
The longer you go without talking to anyone about your pathetic, unrequited feelings, the more your frustration grows. At times like this, it’d be nice to have a therapist, get down to the bottom of what attracts you to your best friend in the first place, and snip it right at the stem.
Maybe even douse it with weed killer.
In a way, you kind of are. The weed killer part, that is, not finding the root cause of what the hell is wrong with you. After much thought, you decided to start distancing yourself from him, and it started with sleeping in.
It seems small, but putting a stop to your morning routine with him seemed effective. No complaining about school and internships over coffee. No talking about your plans for the day, which usually lead to what time you’d be home and what you two were doing for dinner, since you often shared meals as well.
For a couple of days, it worked. Sukuna chalked it up to you just being more tired than usual from school. While you two shared enough in common, you were nothing like him academically.
The combination of a short attention span and lack of interest in most subjects always made school harder than it should have been for you. He used to tease you for being dumb, up until the 8th grade when shit got real and your school counselor told you that you’d have to repeat the year if you didn’t get your grades up.
Sukuna was not going into high school without you, so the obvious solution to that was to do your homework himself. He didn’t have the patience to actually sit down and teach you. He still doesn’t, and still does your homework from time to time when he hears you sniffling over it in your room— yanking papers out of your hands, grumbling about how useless you are and how you need to grow the hell up, as if you were the one forcing him to do it.
You have no idea how you even got accepted into the same university as him. Sukuna claims not to know either, despite already knowing you’ve always had more to offer than just stats. He’s sure they figured that too when looking through your application— the one you refused to let him help you with.
He let you have your time to mope around, but it’s Friday, and so he lays three stern knocks on your door.
You’re still trying to avoid him, so naturally, your heart drops to your fucking ass.
It takes you a minute to gather yourself, only for your courage to fall short when you let out a measly, “yeah?”
“Can I come in?” he murmurs, sounding inconvenienced by the fact that he had to ask in the first place. Usually, you just tell him to.
There’s another pause as you try to think of an excuse as to why you haven’t spoken to him much this week. The excuse never comes to mind, though, as the annoyed sigh he let out cut off your train of thought.
“…Yeah.”
The doorknob twists before you even finish the word, and he walks through the door with a scowl on his face, eyes tracing over your body with judgment as you stay in bed under the sheets.
“I was gonna go to the book fair later tonight if you wanted to go.”
“I think I’m gonna pass on that.” It pained you to say, you’ve actually been looking for it ever since you started seeing the flyers all around campus. “I kind of wanna stay in this weekend.”
“Alright,” he scratches the back of his head, trying to accept that answer.
He doesn’t.
“Wanna watch a movie then?” he asks, pushing up his glasses. “There’s a couple of bags of popcorn left from last time.”
“No, it’s fine.” Turning him down is a struggle on its own— his stubbornness doesn’t help one bit. “I don’t know, I uhm— I’ve been feeling kinda sick… my stomach’s been bugging me all day.”
“Alright,” he shrugs, hand wrapping around the doorknob. “Hope you feel better then I guess.”
The words don’t sound very sincere coming from him, but you’d take that over him continuing to prod. He’s annoyed, doesn’t even bother to look at you anymore as he walks out of your room, missing the half smile you gave.
Don’t feel bad.
It’s not like he’s putting himself out there by going alone tonight. Sukuna has to know at least a couple of people who’ll be there— he’d never go somewhere that made him feel uncomfortable. And even if he were to put himself out there, it wouldn’t be as hard as it would be for anyone else. Anxiety isn’t in his vocabulary— the last thing he’d ever care about is how people perceive him.
Sukuna leaves an hour later. You hear his heavy footsteps walk down the narrow hallway until he’s out the door, and once again you remind yourself that there was nothing to feel bad about it.
30 minutes later, you hear the front door open, hardly getting a chance to wonder why he’s back so soon, since he walks straight to your door and knocks.
At least you think it’s him.
“…Kuna?”
“Who the fuck else would it be, dumbass?” he asks rudely.
The only reason his words don’t offend you is knowing that you, a young woman, can never be too safe in this day and age. You don’t respond to him with that though, he’ll probably say something even ruder.
“Come in,” you murmur rather grudgingly.
The doorknob turns, followed by the light shake of a plastic bag as he just barely lifts it to show you.
“What’s that?”
“Soup,” he says, setting the bag down on your nightstand and opening it to reveal the said soup along with a bottle of tea. “You never eat when you’re sick— probably why your stomach hurts.”
“Yes I do.” You pout as you sit up in bed, watching him open the lid and drop a spoon in the tub.
“Don’t argue with me right now,” he responds in a bored tone, handing the soup over.
The guilt builds up once again after muttering a quick “thanks” to him, stirring the liquid for a moment before giving it a try. He doesn’t say much— just watches you with an expression that’s as unreadable as it always is.
You try to fill the silence. “Why didn’t you end up going?”
“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Didn’t feel like it anymore.”
The truth was, it wouldn’t have been as fun without you. He also figured you’d be suffering in bed for the rest of the night, wondering why your stomach hurt so much, not realizing that half of it was just hunger, so he turned around and went straight to the restaurant you usually order takeout from.
He keeps his eyes on you for a few more seconds, then exhales. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”
“Okay,” you murmur back. “Thanks for the soup.”
“Yeah,” he hums. “You better finish it.”
Even through the discomfort you feel in your chest from lying, you manage to smile. “I know.”
You walk out to the living room once you’re done eating, holding the same plastic bag Sukuna had in hand a while ago. It’s filled with an empty take-out container and an empty bottle, along with a couple of other pieces of trash that were slowly cluttering the desk in your room.
You catch sight of the back of his head, hair all messy from the beanie he put on when leaving in case it started to snow. He could’ve easily driven to campus or the restaurant, but he just doesn’t see the point— both were just a ten to fifteen minute walk away. Even on days when it’s extra cold, he’ll still walk, arguing that he’ll warm up anyway from the walk itself. Something about the human body being more than capable of adapting to extreme weather by doing shit like shivering to produce heat and what not. It was great to know, but you’d prefer not to shiver in the first place.
Sukuna turns his head around before you get the chance to greet him. He had a takeout container full of stir-fry in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other, taking his time to finish chewing his food before saying anything. “Feelin’ any better?”
“Mhm,” you nod, turning the corner into the kitchen to quickly drop the bag into the trash. “Thanks again. The soup was good.”
“Yeah,” Sukuna murmurs back— he’s never been the type to say ‘you’re welcome’ to others. He turns back around to focus on the tv screen, exhaling as he leans back further into the couch to get comfortable.
“What’re you watching?” you ask.
“Some crime documentary,” he says, clearly unimpressed by it. “Couldn’t find anything else to watch.”
“Maybe I can find something,” you offer, walking around the couch to sit beside him. Well, not exactly. With all the space he takes up from his current man spread, you make a spot for yourself at the very end of the beat up, albeit comfy, sofa.
He hands you the remote with zero protest, and you spend a good 10 minutes trying to find something to watch, only to forget about your task as you find yourself more focused on talking to the man. It starts with you making a comment about one of the movie's titles, then Sukuna responding with something it reminds him of, and eventually snowballs into talking about nothing in particular for the next two hours.
Neither of you remembers falling asleep, but he finds himself waking up at first at around 1:00 am. There’s a message on the t.v screen asking if he’s still watching, and you’re leaning against him, snoring, cheek squished against his shoulder.
He smiles a little— it’s nothing new to him. If anything, he’s surprised you didn’t get any drool on him. You did last time.
And just like last time, he scoops you up into his arms and takes you back to your room. He tries to be gentle when he sets you down on your bed, just so you wouldn’t wake up and ask him what the hell he was doing, but you still stir the moment you’re out of his arms.
“Kuna.”
Sukuna holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to say something else. He quickly realizes you were just talking in your sleep, though, which brings him some relief.
He’s always avoided getting too touchy after you two reached a certain age. Not because he didn’t want to touch you, but out of basic respect. He didn’t need you thinking he was trying to get something out of it. It’s awkward enough when people mistake you for a couple— he’d rather not add to that discomfort, which is why he got the fuck out of your room while he still had a chance.
—
Sukuna met you when he transferred schools in the 4th grade.
The teacher sat him right next to you. You two didn’t really talk at first. His first impression of you was that you were shy and spent half the day looking out the window. He didn’t get why you did it when the teacher was obviously peeved by it and constantly singled you out by asking you to repeat what she had just said. It went on throughout the year— after about a month, he found himself wishing you would just pay attention already. He hated feeling sorry for others.
His second impression of you was that you weren’t as oblivious as he thought you were, and spoke up when you noticed a kid in another class trying to pick on him when they weren’t in the teacher's view. The bully didn’t listen to you, because why would he? He towered over the two of you.
So he continued to bug Sukuna, who, believe it or not, was the shortest boy in your grade at the time. And for some reason, he took it. That is until the boy tried to yank his glasses off his face, which ended in Sukuna knocking his front tooth out, an action that could’ve gotten him expelled had you not stepped in and lied, claiming that he was chasing after Sukuna and slipped. Nobody else was there to see— there weren’t any cameras around that time.
Just your words against the boys.
It wasn’t until the following summer that you two had become friends.
Sukuna remembers that day— 7:00 pm, the temperature was finally starting to drop. He had about one more hour before the sun went down, so he decided to make the most of what was left of the day by riding his bike around the neighborhood.
He soon found out that you lived just one street away from him when he saw you sitting under a tree on your front lawn, sketching in a notebook.
And of course, you didn’t fucking notice him, even as the brakes on his bike screeched when it came to a halt.
“Hey.”
He's always had a stern voice— you almost thought you did something wrong as you looked up to see who barked at you.
“Hey,” you responded back, sounding slightly confused.
His brows furrowed as he looked over your house. “You live here?”
“Yeah. Do you live nearby?”
“Yeah.” He pointed right behind him. “On the next street over.”
“That’s … cool.” You had no idea how to even respond to that. He was glaring at you, and you were so sure that he was just waiting to say something rude.
He never did.
“Do you have a bike?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Wanna ride around together?”
Looking back, he had no idea how he was able to be so straightforward with you. He was a loner through and through, it took a lot for him to even want to be friends with someone. It probably made him more comfortable knowing you were a decent enough person to stick up for him the way you did.
Before you were able to say yes or no, you heard your mother calling from inside the house, letting you know dinner was ready.
“Coming!” You got up, putting your notebook under your arm as you started to pick up your colored pencils. For a moment, he thought you forgot that he was there, but then you looked back up. “I’m not allowed to go outside anymore after dinner. Do you wanna ride bikes tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” A bit of excitement threatened to peak through his voice. “What time?”
“Uhhh… could you come at 5?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t actually sure if he could, but he was determined to make a friend and decided he’d make it happen.
“Okay, cool!” You turned on your heel, waving at him as you started to walk back inside. “See you tomorrow!”
After riding around the neighborhood for a couple of hours, he ended up eating dinner with your family that next night, after riding back home and asking his dad, of course.
There was no separating you from each other after that.
His favorite thing about you was that you were always open to learning about his interests, rather than shutting him down for not knowing or liking what he liked. He remembers coming over one day with a binder full of Pokémon cards and being able to show you each one despite you not knowing anything about Pokémon prior to that.
That’s how your friendship went— you’d willingly follow him down whatever rabbit hole he was in, and he did the same for you. He’s aware of how close of a bond he has with you. You two can talk for hours, about anything and everything. You don’t run out of things to talk about, nor do you get tired.
At least that’s what he thought.
There’s been a shift, and for the life of him, he cannot figure out what’s caused it. The last time you were this quiet was after you went through (another) failed talking stage, but that only lasted a week. It’s been 3 weeks of you turning down his invitations and giving him short answers, slowly retreating back into your bubble that apparently doesn’t have any room for him anymore.
But even then, it’s not something that starts to weigh heavily in his mind until today, when he saw you studying in the library alone. You always let him know whenever you were going there in case he wanted to come along, because that was another thing you two did together— study. From the library, to random coffee shops, to the dining room table where you two could easily stay up until 2:00 AM writing papers and rereading notes for the hundredth time.
Sukuna would never outwardly admit it, but you were his entire life. He liked it that way.
He thought about going up to you, but decided against it. It was the first time he thought he’d be a bother and decided that he’d rather not feel like one with you— not ever.
Not to sound dramatic, but it was paralyzing in a way. Knowing he should probably give you some space and trying to do so, when literally half of his thoughts are about you. It could be something as simple as finding a new song that he liked, and he’d start to wonder if you’d like it too. So no, realizing that you’ve been distancing yourself from him doesn’t feel very good.
And he hopes he never has to feel like this again.
—
Between you and Sukuna, you were honestly more of a loner. While he’s made a handful of friends in the three years of being in college, you’ve only really made one, which was Yuki. Maybe two, if you count Shoko, but she’s always been so withdrawn from everything that you considered her more of an acquaintance.
But even then, Yuki had her own group of friends. You were okay with that and didn’t mind being the friend you catch up with once a month.
Today is that once a month catch up. Instead of going out somewhere though, you both opted to just make dinner at her place. It gives a sense of coziness that’s needed when it snows for a week straight.
You thought you could come here to relax, but you find yourself nearly choking on spaghetti when she asks what’s wrong with you and Sukuna.
You try to act normal about it, but you weren’t fooling anyone, especially with your initial reaction. Stumbling over your words, eyes all wide as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar.
“I mean, look at you,” Yuki starts to go in on you. “You haven’t mentioned his name once, and you look depressed as fuck.”
You frown. “That doesn’t mean it’s because of him, though.”
“Then what is it?” she asks, twirling some spaghetti around with her fork.
No answer.
She sighs at how bad you are at trying to hide it. “C’mon, you can tell me. Who knows, I might even be able to give you some advice.”
You doubt it, but you tell her anyway— about how you’ve been trying to avoid him, thinking about how the distance will make you get over something that was never even a was.
At first, she laughs at how surprised you look when she says she already knew you were into him. To her, it was pretty obvious with the way you were around him. Granted, she’s only really seen it once, but seeing the way your eyes softened as you looked at him for a little longer than a friend would was all she needed to see.
Sukuna on the other hand? She had no idea. She’s had a couple of classes with him in the past, and he’s always been hard to read.
Maybe? Is what she told you when you asked if she thought he liked you back, which may look a little harsh to some people, but you asked her for the truth, and the truth was he was hard to read.
“He clearly likes having you around, though, if he’s been able to live with you for almost 3 years with no complaints,” she adds.
“Well, yeah… we’re friends, and that’s the problem. He’d never see me as more than that.”
“You don’t know that,” she scolds you for being so pessimistic. “Why don’t you just ask him?”
You’d rather fucking die. “And then what? Make things awkward if he says no and ruin a 10-year friendship? At this point, I don’t even care if he feels the same or not, I just wanna get over it so I can go back to being normal with him.”
A little self-sabotage-y, but fair enough, Yuki thinks. “Well… if getting over him is the goal here, why don’t you come to a party with me next Friday? I’m sure meeting new people will help out with that.”
“I dunno.” The mumbled words are followed by a sigh. “Parties aren’t really my thing, but I’ll think about it and let you know.”
They really weren’t. You didn’t mind going to the ones Sukuna took you to since everyone, for the most part, knew how to act right and didn’t drink that much, but a frat party? Just thinking about it gives you a headache.
But who knows, maybe you needed to get knocked off your axis to forget about it.
—
Sukuna took an astronomy class in his freshman year. He didn’t talk that much, but was still able to build a bond with his professor since he was one of the very few students who actually showed up during office hours.
Which is why he came home today with not one, but two telescopes sticking out of his backpack. He couldn’t really afford one right now and figured it’d be worth a try asking if his former professor had any he could borrow.
And since the professor was more than happy to lend him some, Sukuna figured he might as well grab a second one since you watched the last meteor shower with him and pouted whenever he took it back from you.
The last few times he hoped you’d be home, you weren’t, so hearing some rummaging come from your room wiped away some of the doubt he felt during his walk back from campus. His heart may have even skipped a beat as he gently set his backpack down on the couch. It’s felt like forever since he actually got to sit down and talk to you.
Yet the moment you opened your door after hearing a knock, something in his chest tightens. You’ve got a full face of make-up on, tits pushed up in the tightest top he’s ever seen you wear, paired with quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, period.
“Hey.” You try to smile at him, but he still notices the flicker of guilt on your face as you try to pull your skirt down. “What’s up?”
“Nothin’, I was just wondering if you were free tonight.” There’s a bit of disappointment in the small laugh he huffs out. “There’s gonna be a meteor shower later.”
He doesn’t even know why he mentioned it when it’s already clear you’re going to be busy.
“Fuck— I’m sorry.” You knew how much he liked going to that hill not too far from campus to watch them. “I already made plans with Yuki.”
“It’s alright. I asked at the last minute anyway.” He tries to act like he’s happy for you. “You two going to a party or something?”
“Yeah, some frat party,” you try to sound as uninterested as possible. He’s expressed his hatred for frat parties many times in the past.
He thought you hated them too, but evidently not enough, given how you’re all dressed up to go to one.
“Nice,” he responds a little too flatly, lips thinning into a fake smile as he nods and mentally checks out. “I’ll uh– let you go back to getting ready then, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
You wanted to say more, but the words just got caught in your throat as you watched him turn away from you and walk to his room.
He never came out in the last hour you were home. You considerate saying bye, but what was the point when you hadn’t said that in weeks?
As you’re walking out the door, something from the corner of your eye catches your attention. His backpack. You had to do a double-take at first, but your eyes eventually landed on two telescopes, and the mere thought of hurting Sukuna tonight made the guilt you already felt spread through every inch of your body.
. . .
Coming to the party with Yuki was a mistake.
You hated crowds, especially the one here. Even with a couple of drinks in you, having to be around people plastered out of their minds annoyed you. Just drunk and sweaty and stumbling into everything.
You found yourself having to step outside, and even though you didn’t get to escape people completely, at least you had some fresh air. You found a wall to lean against and checked your phone— no notifications. You shouldn’t have even expected to have any. Then you do something pretty annoying, go on instagram to see if Sukuna posted anything on his story. He doesn’t have that many people on there, but he’ll still post from time to time. You were hoping to see something, maybe something about the meteor shower.
Nope.
Fuck. What if he didn’t end up going? The thought makes you feel like the worst friend ever. You probably are the worst friend ever at this point. You practically ditched him to go to a frat party.
Through the window, you see Yuki making out with some guy, and figure it's time to go since it’s with the one she was planning on spending the night with. You really aren’t in the mood to spark up a conversation with somebody else tonight, either.
The Uber you called was already on its way when you went to say goodbye to Yuki, and got home 15 minutes later with your tail tucked in between your legs. You had no idea what you were going to say to him. You didn’t want him to think he was your backup plan either.
The silence of the apartment and seeing one telescope left behind felt worse.
—
Of course he went alone.
Sure, he was admittedly bummed, maybe even a little irritated that you chose a fucking frat party, of all things, over him, but that didn’t stop him from getting out of the house for the night. He would’ve borrowed the telescopes for nothing if he stayed.
He was alone, but the night was nice. Clear skies, thick blankets of snow silencing the air around him and muffling the hoots of an owl that was somewhere in the trees. If only there was a little more snow to shut that thing up, too— it was ruining everything for him. Just as he’s about to turn around and yell at it, in hopes that telling it to shut the fuck up himself might work, the sound gets clearer.
It sounds like someone's calling his name, which spooks him a bit despite not believing in the paranormal.
“Kuna?!”
Oh, great. It was something worse than a ghost, you.
And you forgot to bring your survival instincts, too. You have to walk through a sketchy path to reach the hill, and not only did you decide to go alone, but you are yelling his name, proving to anybody nearby that you are alone and most likely lost.
He pinches his nosebridge and lets out a disappointed sigh before just barely yelling back. “I’m over here.”
He hears a rushed ‘okay’ right after and pictures you fast-walking through the snow. For some reason, he thought he’d see you in the same outfit he last saw you in and was glad to see you didn’t show up half naked. You’re wearing the same thing as him right now— boots, snow pants, goose down coat.
You’re a little shy as you walk up and sit next to him.
He’s not. “What happened to your little party?”
“Didn’t like it,” you murmured.
He laughs under his breath, having already known you wouldn’t. “Good thing you had a backup plan.”
“You can’t be the backup plan if I never even knew there was going to be a meteor shower when I made plans,” you huff out.
“Right,” he grumbles, noticing something protruding under your coat. He nods at it. “The hell are you hiding under there?”
“Oh.” You look down and reach under your coat to pull the object out. “The other telescope.”
“Seriously? You couldn’t even stuff it in a backpack or something?” he complains, snatching it from you to take a look at it. “You could’ve dropped it and I would’ve been fucked.”
“Good thing I didn’t,” you proudly say, and he rolls his eyes, handing it right back to you.
But not before looking at you dead in the eye and saying, “Don’t break it,” in an authoritative tone that would've scared the living hell out of most people.
You, on the other hand, are very used to his grumpy side at this point and don’t think much of it as you take it back from him. You do steal a glance at him, though, unable to tell if he has any leftover resentment from earlier. He can try to act as unbothered as he wants, but his original response was telling. The way the interest in his eyes faded, just waiting to end the conversation once he found out where you were going.
“I’m sorry about tonight.”
He lets out a laugh. “For what?”
“I don’t know…” you mumble, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them. “Still going even when I knew I probably wasn’t going to like it.”
“It’s got nothing to do with me, remember? Those plans were already made,” he murmurs back, adjusting his glasses before looking up at the sky. You’re not sure if he’s being sarcastic or not.
“I know. I still feel bad, though.”
Sukuna hums at first, not sure how to even take that. He doesn’t like it when people feel sorry for him. Hates it when people treat him like he’s fragile, like what you’re doing right now. Yet, he still can’t find it in himself to respond in the snarky, passive-aggressive way he usually does to people who do that.
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“Alright,” you say with a sigh, not pushing it any further.
And while the night was nice, you couldn’t help but think of how it barely fixed what damage had already been done by your own doing. Sukuna was still kind to you and spoke softly for the most part, but you finally felt the distance you’ve been silently asking for. It was as if he stopped caring about including you, only keeping the thoughts he’d usually share to himself as he looked up at the sky and not bothering to direct where you should look.
For a moment, you wanted to ask him what was wrong, only to quickly stop yourself. You knew what was wrong, and knew you had no right ask when the problem was you.
—
Avoiding Sukuna wasn’t healthy in any way, shape, or form. It was childish. You felt like nothing but a coward, but it was the only way you knew how to protect yourself at this point— convincing yourself that maybe the feelings you had for him would disappear if you stayed as far away from him as possible.
They haven’t, they’re just like any other problem in life— they don’t go away just because you ignore them, acting as if they weren’t there. They get worse, they fester, and in your case, you probably think about him now more than ever. How he doesn’t deserve to be dodged like this, how you’re ruining a perfectly good friendship just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check.
You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with him, but you’re afraid that more words will slip out. Like how much you miss him, everything about him. From the late nights talking about anything and everything, all the way down to the annoyed look on his face whenever you say something he finds stupid. That yeah, he can be really rude at times, but even in those moments, there’s still nobody else that you feel more comfortable with. There’s nothing wrong with him. He means everything to you.
You wish you never followed him here. You wish you never signed that lease. You are going to lose him because of it.
That day was bound to happen— you just didn’t think it’d happen so soon.
Avoiding him didn’t work. You see him now, talking to some girl in front of the library. He doesn’t seem to be looking to get out of the conversation anytime soon with how relaxed he looks. Comfortable.
You wish you never followed him here.
Aside from your degree, it got you absolutely nowhere. You could’ve been smiling just as much as the girl in front of him with somebody else had you not spent the last three years pining over him.
Hell— the last ten years.
. . .
Two weeks later, Sukuna bursts through your shared apartment and bangs on your door so hard that your heart starts to race. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt scared to face him until now.
“I know you’re home, your keys are still on the coffee table,” he roughly says, continuing to pound on the door. “Open the fucking door.”
You try to look him in the eyes when you finally do, but you couldn’t handle the weight you felt under his gaze.
He tries to catch his breath as he walks into your room— it’s as if he ran home just so he could talk to you. With one last deep breath, he speaks. “What the hell is your problem?”
“What do you mean—“
“This!” He holds his phone up, hands slightly trembling, showing you the text his father sent him regarding your lease, and how you told him you didn’t want to renew it for the next year. “You couldn’t have told me yourself, so you reached out to my dad? You look like you’re trying to escape me or something! What did I even do to you?!”
“Nothing! I just—“
“Like hell it isn’t— you’ve been avoiding me for fucking weeks, and now you don’t even want to live with me anymore. What the fuck did I do to deserve all of that?!”
Your eyes began to tear up the more he yelled, growing more and more overwhelmed to the point where you just blurted it out. “I can’t stay here anymore— I need to move on with my life.”
“What do you mean, move on?” His face twists from confusion. “What is there to even move on from, huh?”
“From you!”
He defensively throws his arms out, still completely and utterly confused. “You act like we’re in a fucking relationship!”
“I know— that’s the problem!” you finally snap, a small hiccup leaving your body as you try not to cry in front of him.
You didn't have to explain any further from there.
It was clear he understood what you meant by that with his reaction. Going radio silent as he sat down on your bed, resting his head in his hands for a moment while he tried to process your pathetic confession.
“I-“ he cuts himself off and sighs, looking up to see you just awkwardly standing there, sniffling and wiping your eyes.
He wants nothing more than to hold you right now and wipe the tears away, but has no idea how to tell you that— guess you’re both stupid in that sense.
“Do you want to be in one?”
You stop sniffling and look at him like he’s fucking stupid. “What kind of a question is that?”
“I don’t know,” he argues back. “You’re the one crying about not being in one.”
“So you’re going to ask me to be in a relationship with you just to appease me?” Your eyes widen in disbelief.
“I’m not doing it to appease you—
You cut him off with a bitter laugh, “Yeah? What is it then?”
“I’m doing it because I love you and I want you to fucking stay.”
The room grows dead silent, save for the sharp breath you take as you try to come up with a response.
“What?”
“You seriously want me to repeat that again?” he scoffs, and then spells it out for you quite aggressively. “I love you. You are the most important person in my life, and I want you to stay. Don’t. Leave. Me— is that enough for you, or would you like me to write it down on a piece of paper so you can read along while I say it again?”
You avert your eyes as if you were a child being scolded, picking at your cuticles as you mumble, “I got it.”
A laugh escapes him because you are un-fucking-believable. “That’s it?”
“Yeah,” you respond quietly.
The mattress creaks as he gets up from the bed. “Does that mean you’ll stay?”
“Mhm.”
“Good.”
Your cheeks begin to heat up as he starts walking closer, and by the time he’s standing in front of you, you feel like you can hardly breathe. There’s no telling what’s on his mind when you meet his gaze. Though it’s not like you had much time to think.
Your brain short-circuits when he gently cups your jaw.
Then shuts down completely when you feel the warmth of his soft lips pressed against yours.
There’s a satisfied look on his face when he pulls back— it’s not often he leaves you speechless like this. You always have more to say. Now? Nothing. He’s starting to wonder if you’re even breathing.
“Was that okay?” he asks, rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks.
“Yeah,” you nearly whisper.
He hums as he leans forward again, kissing you with more certainty than the last. There’s a light smack, then he deepens it, and you’re left holding his arms as you go along with it, following him like you always do.
It happens fast.
One minute he’s bending down, grabbing the backs of your knees to pick you up. The next, your back is hitting the sheets, and you’re reminded of just how big he’s become when he’s on above you, caging you in with his arms.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asks again.
“Mhm,” you’re the one cupping his face this time, watching his eyes soften. “I want you.”
“I want you too.”
He gives you one last kiss, then leaves a trail of them down your neck and chest. Suddenly, your shirt’s off, and his hands are sliding down from your waist to your hips— fingers hooking around the waistband of your shorts, making your stomach flutter as he slowly pulls the shorts and your panties down in one go.
You don’t even realize how wet you are until you’re completely exposed to the air, having Sukuna spread your legs wide open as he gets in between them.
The grip he has on the back of your thighs tightens. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”
Now, neither of you are virgins, and the number of people you’ve slept with can be counted on one hand. You knew it wouldn’t be awkward or anything with the moderate amount of experience you had, but you did not expect him to bury his face into your pussy and start eating you out like some starved whore.
He has you gasping and squeezing your legs together, and he just keeps going— groaning as he laps away at your pussy, flattening his tongue against your hole and licking a fat stripe up to your clit before sucking on it.
It’s so good that you have no idea whether you want more or if you want to push his head away, and you’re not even sure if pushing him away is even possible with the iron grip he has on your waist. Even when you squeeze your thighs together, he just rubs his face further into your folds, letting his nose work against your clit while he starts to fuck you with his tongue.
It drives you insane. You’re grabbing at his hair, letting out the neediest moans that have ever come out of you in life. None of the guys you’ve had sex with has ever made you cum.
Sukuna’s making you cum on his tongue— groaning while licking and lapping at the mess you’ve made while you’re disheveled and gasping for air.
There’s slick dripping down from his chin, glasses somehow perfectly on as he pops his head up, checking to see if you’re okay. “Wanna keep going?”
“Fuck—“ you’re still trying to catch your breath as you begin to nod, “Yeah, please, need you inside me.”
He’s already taking off his shirt, revealing the toned body he’s spent quite an effort working on. Then his jeans… and boxers.
Your eyes grow wide at the sight.
His dick’s fucking perfect. Long and thick. Couple of veins running up his length. A big red tip perfect for hitting all the right spots— just thinking about it makes you drool.
“You’re not paying attention, are you?” he asks in amusement.
“I am,” you say, looking up at him before your eyes start trailing down again. “Can’t believe this is what you’ve been hiding under your pants this entire time.”
“You’re right— I probably should’ve told you about it a while ago,” he says sarcastically, kneeling back on the bed until he’s above you again, hooking his hands under your knees and dragging you closer.
You squirm a bit as he rubs and taps the head of his cock against your clit. “Will you go slow at first?”
His face softens as he looks at you.
“Yeah, of course.” He was already planning on it, but something about being asked really does something to him. Triggering some need to be extra gentle with you. “Let me know if you want me to stop.”
You nod, and he lines himself up with your entrance, tip already coated in slick. He pushes in and bites back a groan as he watches you stretch around him, taking him inch by inch. Your eyebrows are slightly pinched together when he looks up, and a low laugh escapes him before caging you in and grabbing your jaw with a gentle hand.
His lips graze over yours as he pushes in some more. “Breathe for me— there we go— almost there, you got this.” The praise makes you squeeze around him more, and he finds himself struggling to stay controlled. You’re so tight and look so pretty struggling to take him, letting him swallow up your little moans as he starts to slowly rock his hips back and forth.
With a low grunt, he finally bottoms out and gives you a moment to adjust. “How’s it feel?”
“Good,” you murmur. “Keep going.”
There’s a sly smile on his face. “You sure?”
“Don’t make me beg for it,” you whine back.
“I won’t, I won’t,” he lets out an amused sigh, then starts moving again.
He’s less careful as he starts thrusting into you, pulling his hips back a little more each time, making you feel every inch he’s giving you with the leisurely pace he’s going at. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding on to his shoulders as he fucks you deep and slow.
"Kuna—"
"I know," he hums against your temple, hips rolling into you as if he had all the time in the world. "Shoulda done this sooner— feels so fuckin’ good."
“Yeahh– fuuck– m’sorry,” you moan a little too softly in the shell of his ear, so blissfully unaware of just how crazy it drove him in that moment.
“I’m sorry too.”
He wasn’t apologizing about the past, by the way. He was apologizing for the way he drove his cock into you afterwards, just to hear that sweet little sound again and again and again, until your moans start filling the room.
Getting you to go dumb on his cock wasn’t very difficult at all. Sukuna knew how to fuck— rolling his hips into you just right, his fat tip bullying into your sweet spot until you’re clawing at his back, which does nothing but turn him on even more.
He grabs one of your legs and hoists it up to his shoulder, allowing himself to fuck into you deeper at a new angle. His grip on your legs tightens as he snaps his hips against you harder, faster, until a wet squelch between you can be heard.
“Oh my god, right there,” you whine out as you start to feel the pressure in your lower belly start to build. “I’m gonna— fuck!”
“Shit– me too,” he groans out, letting go of your leg to cage you in with both arms. He starts pounding into you desperately, letting out low, drawn out groans in the shell of your ear. After one particularly rough thrust, you're crying and cumming all over his cock, unable to hear whatever he’s rambling about in your ear. You can feel his cock absolutely throbbing against your walls though as he starts chasing his own relief, groaning and cursing to himself as he starts pumping you full of his cum.
It takes you both a moment to process what the hell just happened. There’s nothing but short breaths as your chests rise and fall. Your stomach threatens to drop when he rolls over and falls on his back beside you, afraid of whatever he has to say next. But then he pulls you in, moving you to rest your head on his shoulder, grabbing the back of your knee to pull your leg over him.
He closes his eyes and takes a breath, drawing little circles over your waist with his thumb. “Does this mean you’ll finally stop avoiding me?”
“Yeah,” you let out a small but tired laugh— you’ll probably be all over him after this.
“Good,” he grumbles, shifting as he settles into the bed some more. “Because you’re really never getting rid of me after this, bestie.”
Summary: After recently transferring to Hope County, Deputy (Name) Rook is dragged by the Sheriff and a US Marshal to take a seedy cult leader into custody. Something begins to act up as their multiple soulmate marks begin to burn themselves into place and cement bonds that Rook believes should have never existed in the first place.
Content warning:Cannon-typical violence, Soulmate au, Religious imagery & symbolism, Cults, Angst, Slow-burn, Eventual smut, Everything that is Far Cry 5, which is honestly a warning in itself. The author is sleep deprived.
Additional warnings: NA
Masterlist
notes:I was n=intending for this to be longer. Didnt end up like that lmao
Baptism is Soulmate Bliss
Your body was, once again, in panic-and-survive mode as you were pulled up from icy water. Everything was hazy, the moon was in the sky, and the stars seemed to twinkle as you ogled at them. Despite your brain screaming at you to move, to run, to get out of the freezing cold, sopping, waterlogged clothes, your body betrayed you. It felt like you were floating, light. The pit in your stomach seemed to lessen by the moment. You didn't even process the words of the two peggies who held you and guided you towards a direction.
It was hard, keeping yourself from slipping on the wet rocks beneath your soggy boots as you splashed through the creek in whichever direction the peggies led you. Your head was in the clouds, metaphorically.
You only seemed to regain a sliver of consciousness when John's voice pulled you from the depths of your hazy mind.
“We must wash away our past, we must expose our sins!” You dragged your gaze down to him. He swiped on the girl's forehead in front of you as she was pushed up the muddy stones and onto the shore behind him. “We must atone, for only then may we stand in the light of God and walk through his gate unto Eden.”
You were pushed forward- only now feeling the burn of your left hip, though you still hardly processed it. You were too high off the bliss that the river had been soaked with. John stood before you, and you looked at him, wide eyed as he frowned.
“Not this one, this one is unclean,” he said as he grabbed you and pushed you under the water. Your skin burned, your eyes felt foggy from the cool water, and your second soulmate mark, was unfortunately invisible as the rushing water and intact clothing prevented much of the light or heat from escaping through the fabric that covered it.
You were pulled up, and a clear separation between the water in your eyes and the tears that were actively flowing made itself known. Your hair stuck to your scalp, and water weakly dribbled down your forehead, then your nose and you blew it, sending water out from the attempted drowning.
“God, why?” You whimpered, feeling a tear rolling down your cheekbones and curving towards your chin.
John's brows knitted, and his face faltered, his lips dropping to a near pout as he released your neck and began to frantically tug at his sleeves and tear his trench coat from his back as the words shone through the back of his shirt. While they didn't burn the fabric, the light was clear, and as it dimmed, it seemed so did the area. You hadn't realised just how bright his soul-mark had been, enamoured with yourattempted drowning and the very thoughts of the fact that John was your soulmate.
Your heart rate picked up, and you pinched your brows together as John leaned over himself, facing the gravel, his hands nesting in his hair as he tried to stop himself from pulling out the strands.
”I don't understand,” he mumbled, before his hands fell to his sides as he stood. “You're meant to be Joseph's soulmate,” he took a step forward. You hadn't noticed that he distanced himself, to begin with. He gripped you by the centre of your shirt and yanked you forward, going nose-to-nose with you.
“Where is it?” He barked. His face morphed into one of near-seething anger and mild betrayal, as if he'd been lied to. “Where is your mark?”
“Which one?” You babbled. You didn't notice the mild slur to your words, but thankfully, he understood you well enough.
“How many do you have?” You watched as his nose scrunched and his gaze dropped. He looked at your arm, which had Joseph's mark, and began to pull at your sleeve, struggling to force the wet fabric up to view the white mark that branded your skin.
”Welllll~” you drawled. “I have fourrr. But I like to say I have five! Cause then I say that the fifth is a kiss mark on my buttcheek, so dickheads like you know where to kiss my ASS!” You nearly toppled yourself over and smiled at him, looking up as you bent down. He let your arm go.
“Where is mine?”
“Oh thaaaat onee???” You yanked your other arm out from the peggie's grasp behind you and stood up again, then you began to shove down the high hem of your pants.
“What are you- what?” His hands shot out to try and catch your pants by the belt loops to keep them up, but he froze as his eyes zeroed in on the second mark, then a third. One on each hip. He looked between the three, from hip to hip to arm, and then brushed his thumb over the newly white one. It wasn't completely exposed, only the middle of the sentence. ‘..ne, this on..’
He looked over to your other hip to try and read it, and roughly made out “...h dar...” Before the black letters were cut off.
“The fourth?”
“Mirror. The other arm opposite your brother's.” He visibly deflated as he swatted the cultists behind you away.
“So god has gifted you to not only one, but two of us” That voice immediately sobered you. Joseph stood at the treeline in front of a black SUV, in a suit embroidered with crowns. His arms were open again, and John had already puffed back up, clearly flaunting the fact he'd captured you, and now also making it clear you were now also his soulmate. “You've done right by me, John. To know that The Deputy is also your chosen destiny only reaffirms my belief that they're to join us in Eden.”
You had stiffened, and your breathing was shallow as you looked between the two. Joseph had come forward and placed a hand on the back of his brother's neck, then they leaned and placed their foreheads against one another.
“You've done well bringing us our fire.”
“Im not staying,” you dumbly said. Despite feeling sober, you clearly hadn't been. You were still standing there like a deer in headlights, with blown pupils and a gaping mouth.
Joseph blew a breath out his nose that sounded as if he had been suppressing a laugh, while John twisted and grabbed your right wrist.
“You're not leaving m- us. You're not leaving us,” he carefully side-eyed Joseph to see if he'd caught his slip-up. If he had, he didn't say anything. “You're meant to be with us.”
“Soulmates are simply a suggestion, not a rule of who you should love.” Joseph bristled, and John nearly dropped his jaw. How dare you say something against such a holy mark? Clearly, god existed. Even if he was unjust for making you, of all people, their soulmate, he still existed, right? That's the whole reason god existed.
John thought, sure, usually it was god splitting a soul in two for them to find each other. It was rare. Even rarer was three. But for you to have four? You were only living with a fifth of yourself. You must have felt some pull- some need to fill yourself with your missing parts.
“The lord doesn't make suggestions when he creates our destiny, Deputy.” Joseph’s face had been stony when you looked at him. You were sure you saw something flash in his eyes. “Take them to finish the atonement,” he said to John as he turned on his heel, going back to the vehicle he arrived in.
“Grab them,” John motioned to the peggies still behind you. Each grabbed one of your biceps and led you out of the water, and guided you down a path that held half a dozen of the vans that people were transported in during the reaping.
“Don't worry, Archon*. You’ll be taken care of well. We have our best driver, so as not to stress you.”
“Im already stressed. The only reason im here is because im high off my ass, and I don't think I can hit you as hard as I'd want.” The other let go of your arm and opened the back doors of the van, offering his hand to guide you into the van. You chose not to take it and instead moved forward, hiking up your leg to take a tall step in and sit in one of the seats.
“Im sure once you've atoned, those feelings will leave your body and relieve stress. It's very freeing, you know?” He sat up next to you, but left a reasonable distance, and the other closed the doors. He tapped the van a couple of times, and the driver started the engine. You felt the van shift gears and the wheels creep forward. It only took a few minutes before you felt the gravel shift to asphalt. They got to the main road to begin transporting you, and you leaned your head back against the wall
“Truthfully, Archon, many of us were shaken to discover you to be The Father’s soulmate. Of course, it just proves further that he’s truly been blessed. A soulmate and the sight of the lord? Both are so rare, yet he has the gifts. I don't believe there truly could be a better leader than him.”
“Truthfully,” you mocked. “I don't feel blessed personally. I feel violated by whatever god is out there.” You opened your eyes and peered at him. “Im sure you’d feel a little violated too, if people told you you didnt have a choice.
“So many of us didn't have the choice, Archon. We weren't given a soulmate for us to make our decisions. You've been given an opportunity, and it hurts us, as well as the heralds, to see you reject such a holy declaration, branded into your skin. We, the people, are sure you'll come around. You must just let go of the hate you store.”
~~~
You don't know how long you've been on the road. The mindless sound of the wind and the pavement, and every so often, a vehicle passing, made for white noise that drowned out the useless thoughts. You’d gradually become sober, and now you could properly recount what’d happened. You had not even been out of Dutch’s bunker a full day before you’d reclaimed two areas and gotten kidnapped. While you’d liked to believe it was fully because you’d pissed off the seeds enough, you knew the reality was that you were not just the soulmate of one, but two of the seeds. Very quickly, you’d shifted from being a thorn in the project’s side, to a leader, to what a few would call a necessity, and some a weakness. Sure, you were being granted amnesty now, the privilege of the words permeating through your skin, through each layer of you.
You nearly didnt notice the change of pace of the van, but that thought hadnt lasted long as your stomach lurched, the unbuckled peggie beside you flew into the opposite side of the van wall with a ‘da-blump’, a nd the realisation that the vehicle was tumbling, flipping with a “clank clank thund, thunk,” and then the sickening sound of metal scraping across pavement and the distant yells of people outside. There was very prominent gunfire, not automatic, but single-fire weapons. Pistols? The cult carried a lot of those. You looked at your hands, feeling the blood rush to your head and finally processed the situation.
“Oh shit,” You hurried to place one hand on the roof of the vehicle and the other to unbuckle yourself, dalling this a ‘thump’, using your arm to soften the landing. The gunfire stopped, briefly, before the back doors of the van went flying open.
“Deputy,” Pastor Jerome grabbed your arms to help you up. “You look rough,” He frowned at the mud and soaked clothing you were in. You didnt have much of a response as you looked to the stars.
“I ran to a field. They found me anyway.” Your own voice sounded foreign to you. You felt cold metal push into your hands and looked down at the rifle that he’d given you.
“Stay with us, dep. We didnt go through all this trouble just to lose you now.” You deflated a little as you readjusted your grip on the gun in your hands and became familiar with the weight. “We have to secure this portion of the bridge.” You simply nodded.
[Acid Rain by Lorn is the song I'd use for this next portion]
You looked back and forth between the trees on either side of the road, and felt your heartbeat rise to your ears. Once you've got a grasp of your surroundings, you begin to run. The air combined with the breeze and smacked your face, and you nearly compared it to flying. Your head should have been in the fight, but you were truly elsewhere. You didnt feel as you raised the firearm and shot person after person.
It didnt even feel real.
After more than you could count, you moved to the left and climbed up the rocks that bordered the road, and hid behind them as you followed up the path. There was a zipline that led directly to the two snipers that you'd seen perched on the bridge. They were your target.
Helloooo! So, I'm not new to the Far Cry fandom and 5 is definitely my favorite, but I'm kinda shy since my blog/writing is about a TV show and I'm like... scared to write smut/fluff/angst for the brothers which I would actually LOVE to, but anyway, I just wanted to say I absolutely adore Stuck in a Seedy Situation! Please don't stop writing it EVER.
I guess I'll use this emoji as my signature now. – 🩷
OH MY GOSH HIII <3 I don't plan on stopping any time soon. I was just able to pump out the first few chapters quickly because I had a few free days! im so glad you're loving it. Stay tuned for more! The next chapter is already halfway written
Summary: After recently transferring to Hope County, Deputy (Name) Rook is dragged by the Sheriff and a US Marshal to take a seedy cult leader into custody. Something begins to act up as their multiple soulmate marks begin to burn themselves into place and cement bonds that Rook believes should have never existed in the first place.
Content warning:Cannon-typical violence, Soulmate au, Religious imagery & symbolism, Cults, Angst, Slow-burn, Eventual smut, Everything that is Far Cry 5, which is honestly a warning in itself. The author is sleep deprived.
Additional warnings:N/A
Masterlist
notes:Not edited, But 3 new Guns For Hire are added to the specialty roster!
Chapter 2: Friends in Falls End
Please comment if youd like to be tagged <3
You stood in front of the tall red silo with your arms crossed, trying to contemplate the best way to blow it up without blowing yourself up or sending shrapnel flying across the field. Sure, you had the grenades which could collapse the whole thing, but if the fertiliser inside was as flammable as that guy said, you could certainly just shoot the thing and catch it on fire, right? You followed your eyes up to the brightly painted Eden’s Gate cross, and an incredibly judgmental look crossed your face. You hadn't noticed how it stuck as you tried to estimate the height from the ground to the roof.
Deciding you could use a grenade if shooting it didnt go well, you rotated the rifle’s belt around your shoulder and pressed the trigger. It burst three shots, and you tried again. You could tell there was a heat, maybe a fire starting, but the compression of the fertiliser was too compact and preventing it from igniting, so you opted to look at one of your three grenades and pursed your lips.
“Well, this is a stupid idea,” You muttered as you pulled it out from the sack and ensured everything was secure on your person for your run. You repositioned your legs so that once you tossed the explosive, you could immediately pivot and flee. So, you did just that. You took a deep breath, pulled the pin, and didnt even bother to risk cooking it in your hand as you dumbly slung it towards the base of the silo, then ran the opposite direction, silently counting to four before covering your neck and diving to the ground at the same time that the explosion sent the metal sheets flying. You rolled onto your back to watch as the silo’s gaping hole began to fold in on itself and scrambled up to run off to the side, escaping the falling path of the crumpling building. The fertiliser that spilt formed a flaming mound, plenty of feet high, that you weren't bothering to count.
“That was…. Anti-climactic…” you muttered and swivelled to look back at the farm buildings. You should probably ensure you have a couple of clips for the rifle and get another grenade. And now that you think about it, you should probably pack a few medkits in the bag you were carrying, too. You huffed and checked yourself over, then brushed some dirt from your knees before walking back to the small group of resistance members that were gathering on Rea’s farm. You weaved your way through the seed field mounds and past the bout of threes before getting onto the gravel of the driveway and beelining back to the makeshift armoury. “Can I…. Get another grenade? And whatever else you may have… oh! Oh, and a medkit or three? And ammo for whatever this is.” You held up the rifle.
“I'll be expecting money next time, Dep,” he said as he edged the items forward on the table.
“Put it on my tab?” you asked sheepishly
“I’m countin’,” he said.
Someone from Rea Rea’s gave you a four-wheeler that said she’d wanna give it to you if she had been aware of the situation. You got on and tapped the back rack twice for Boomer to jump up and join you. It was easier said than done to make your way towards Fall’s End, having to stop every moment you saw the tiniest bit of mayonnaise white colour that the cult painted on their vehicles. You even had to pull over a small handful of times when you saw a few cult members snatching civilians and zip-tying their wrists while they were on the side of the road. Most of the time, you'd peel off just before they noticed you, and carefully snuck the ATV closer to the ditch. You dipped into the brush, crouching low between the pine trees, the sedges and the ferns. You walked in your squat and let one hand dig in the ground beneath you as you lurked through the flora. Once you were close enough, you stilled your breathing and placed your rifle up against your shoulder, your sights angled up to the two peggies.
Your shots were consecutive and quick enough that they hardly had time to react before they'd already dropped to the ground. It was hardly even a brief sprint for you to get to the captured duo’s side.
“See, I told you, Crow. Nobody can stay away from us long, always fighting to have us on their side.” The girl with blue-dyed hair elbowed the snow-haired girl's side.
“Don’t fuckin’ do that,” Crow snapped, trying to yank her bound hands to smack the girl beside her.
“Hey, easy now. Im just being honest,” she opened her mouth to say something else, but you cut them off by clearing your throat.
“Am I interrupting something?” you asked, tilting your head with mild amusement.
“No, no. Crow is just being a bitch-” “Yes, obviously you're interrupting, bitch!” they both said in unison.
“Crow, we’re still cuffed. And you.. Are you trying to curse out the person who MIGHT uncuff us?”
“Fuck the deputy, I can get out myself!” The blunette sighed and raised her head away from the aggressive one beside her.
“Please excuse Crow. She’s thinking she would have to go on a rampage. Towards whom- probably everyone, she has no bias.” You slowly nodded as you watched Crow visibly slump her shoulders.
“Sounds right.”
“Anyway, Im Venus. As I've said, this potty-mouth is Crow. Mind untyin’ us? We’ll help you with whatever you need. We owe ya one for stoppin’ them pegs from blowin’ our brains out since the free bird can't help but to run her trap.”
“We are kinda lucky they're helping…” You cut the zipties, and Venus gently rubbed her wrists before beaming a smile at you.
“Aint you just enchantin’! It looks like you're headed towards town… We’ve got some skills if you want some help with... Whatever your goals are?”
“Vee…” Crow looked at her,
“Shut up, Birdie, this is our chance to slaughter some people!” You jerked your head back in shock at the bubbly girl saying such a thing. Crow, on the other hand, looked like this was normal, nodding in agreement.
“They threw our shit in the back of their truck, though.” Crow finally stood, and you realised she was much taller than you anticipated, towering over the five-foot-two Venus by at least a foot. What kinda relationship do these girls have? You wondered.
“A strange one,” Venus winked at you.
“What,” you said,
“Huh,” Crow tilted her head as she pulled her LW3A1 frostline sniper from the box of the truck.
“Oh oh, are my goodies in there?” Venus launched herself towards the tailgate and hoisted herself over it by stepping up the bumper brackets. You heard a thud as her feet disappeared. It wasn't even a second before her head popped up. “They didnt lose my baggie!”
“Jesus, Vee. We were here the whole time. You watched them put it in there.” Crow balanced the sniper over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, anddd? They could have lost it at that time!” She put the straps of the hiking bag over her shoulders and placed her right hand on the gate before swinging her legs over and out. She landed on both her feet. “God could be trying to nerf me by taking my shit.”
“You can't nerf yourself.” Venus placed her hand up, motioning to silence the grumpy friend. “Put your hand down before I punt you like a football, you little fuckin’ ankle biter.”
“Hey now, Im not an ankle biter. Red calls me a Koala… NOT because of Clymidia” She paused awkwardly “ANYWAYS, Im just sayin, someone up there has it out for me” She pointed to the sky. “I can just feel it in my bones that im meant to help the Deputy, here, otherwise my gear would be gone.
You shifted, still unsure of what the two were yapping about. “Do you… Do you do this a lot?” You asked Venus, since she was clearly the more vocal of the two.
“Oh, oh, yeah, just, listen. I know as well as anyone that it seems the world has put you in a pickle. Not many people ‘round here have soulmates. Im sure they certainly don't understand you.” She pulled the collar of her shirt down to reveal a portion of a black sentence scrawled across her collarbones. “So that makes us two peas in a pod, you and I. And don’t worry much about Crow. We’ve been friends for a while…. She probably won't try to hit me anytime soon. We stick together, and since imma stick with you, she’ll probably pitch in every once in a bit. Now, I've got word that John Seed’s been tryin’ to put planes over the town to stop you from takin’ it back. We can help with that.”
Based on the two simple facts that Venus didnt seem like she’d back down and that you had scolded the man at Rea Rea’s that nobody was here to help, who were you to deny her?
“Alright, Im hearing you. She's got that frostline… What do you have to help?” Venus tilted her head and pushed her lips into a duckface, quirking one brow. “Watch!” she turned around, and you finally noticed the two thigh holsters that held a knife each, then the belt that also held another two that hid under her shirt, which she was lifting the hem of. On her right hip, there was a third belt holster that held a silenced pistol.
“Im sneaky,” she said. You then recognised something.
“Give me a second,” you muttered as you pulled out a pocket book that Dutch gave you from the thigh pocket . You flipped through a few pages before you found a part Dutch had labelled ‘Person(s) of interest’, which held a total of twelve people. You knew some of the names, like Hurk Jr., which was the running senator’s son, Sharky, his pyromaniac cousin, and… Cheeseburger? The county’s famous bear. At the bottom of the list was Crow, Red, And Venus Chaos, and you read the notes below their names.
“Crow’s real name is unknown, but her ‘sister’ Venus seemed to pick her up like a stray dog one day and never let her leave. Sniper for hire She's got two skills: True Shot and Frenzy Fire.
The former noted that she never took a shot unless she knew it’d hit, so she never missed. The latter was a skill she had, only triggered when she was particularly pissed. She could rapidly fire several shots.
Venus, However was quite the case. Her skills were marked as Feral, Lady of the Woods, and a third one, ‘Unassuming.’
Just as Crow, the former was noted “Melee/fang for hire When Venus is backed into a corner, she is known to use feral and primal fighting techniques and is known to get dirty. ‘WILL BITE’ was underlined three times. The latter was written that she could call upon various wild animals that she had encountered during her time in the woods, and they'd fight alongside her.
You looked at where the unassuming label was and read it. ‘Easily fools her enemies by being unassuming. Most people don't bat an eye before she jumps on them and kills them.’
Then, underneath that, he wrote:
‘Vee is Jess’s friend.” You looked a few pages back, where you saw Jess’s name and noted that Jess was Dutch’s Niece. That meant you could probably trust the… feral girl.
“You know Jess?” you asked, stuffing the book away.
“Do I know her? God! She’s practically my platonic wife! I collect them like Pokémon!” She finally turned back around, figuring she had shown off her weapons enough and looked at you. “Do you know her?”
“Not quite yet.. But I know Dutch.” You shifted, and “He's got a couple of people he noted down. Said they’d help me or somethin’. You're on that list.”
“Oh, how sweeta him! I always thought he was soft on me,” she began. “Reminds me of my own old man!” she looked to Crow.
“Well, we'd better get on our way towards Falls End, otherwise it’ll get too dark for us to take out as much as we'd wanna. Whatcha say, Crow and I take this truck? You can't drive, though. That's on me.” You grimaced, not particularly wanting to let this… Whatever she was drive.
“That's fine, I gotta fourwheeler back there, but I'll follow you.” You nodded back at her, and she shot you a thumbs up, watching as you turned around to retrieve your vehicle.
~~
Venus had pulled off the road near a fence, and you followed suit. You watched as she jumped from the truck and heard Crow’s own door close.
Venus took one strap off her shoulder and slung her bag around to dig through it while you walked towards her. She didnt look up, but turned towards you as she began to speak. “Listen, we gotta go on foot from here, otherwise the cult’ll know that it's us. They’ve got eyes watching the edges of town, but I know a few back ways to sneak in between buildings.” You peered in her bag and whatever she was shuffling through and noted a ziplock bag of… horse treats and jerky? She grabbed a smaller bag that was filled with freeze-dried dog treats and a bottle of water. She also grabbed a thermos. She drank from the thermos before putting it back in, opening and pouring the water over a handful of the treats. She put the remainder of the treat and water back in the bag, then put it back on her back.
“You're not eating that.. Are you?” you asked, gawking at the handful of now soggy treats.
“Oh god, no! What do you take me for, a starving artist? No, no. These are for the wolves!”
“The what-now?” you stepped back and gaped.
“Well, my friend Red is also tied up in town, that's why the cult picked us off the road. We were on the way there! And I wasn’t gonna go in, so bear, and, as a Montanan, I have the right to arm bears! Or.. in this case wolves.”
“I don't think you're saying that right, Vee.” Crow looked down at Venus.
“It's the right to bear arms,” You replied. “But… you know that doesn't include actual animals… right?”
“What the fuck? don’t want bear arms… they're too hairy. It's all propaganda anyway.” Venus dismissively waved her hand and then stepped into the hedges of the ditch. She whooped towards the denser treeline, then quieted. The birds stopped chirping for only a few seconds before three wolves emerged, and the birds piped up again.
“Good, good. Yes,” she praised the massive lupines, extending her hands with the treats and feeding them after they tromped to her. “Let's go,” she motioned as she wiped her slobbery hands on her jeans. She crawled up the ditch edge, then grabbed your wrist, not bothering to grab her aggressive counterpart, and pulled you to one of the galvanised road rails. She yanked you around the side, then let go as she slid into the creek trench, stepping on a few stones to avoid the water before walking into the tall culvert. She wandered further in, and the wolves slid around you, briefly looking as they passed, then caught up to her.
Crow tailed, taking the caboose to ensure a bit more safety. After getting out of the tunnel, she jumped and grabbed at a portion of barely visible chain-link fence that was covered in twisting vines and climbing ivy. She slotted her foot in and rolled herself over the top of it and beckoned you over, offering a hand. You took it and put your own foot in a link to hoist yourself up. Crow hardly had to climb. The wolves went through a fox ditch. When all three of you were on the other side, Venus put a finger to her lips, hushing you and waving her hand to beckon you to follow her. She went to the back of a building and you followed her, before she leaned back and whispered. “You can go in from here, I think. Just go through that alley. We will be behind you.”
You split off from her and took the lead, going between the alley as she directed and crouched behind a dumpster for coverage as you leaned out and surveyed the area. At least a dozen people were herded, cuffed in the street and twice that in peggies patrolled around them in a circle.
“You can’t do this to us, Ya hear?” Mary May shouted at a small portion of the passing cultists. “You can't just steal all our shit and try to convert us by force!” One of the men passing hissed at her to shut her up, but she only got louder, and he gripped his gun, shoving the butt of it into her stomach, causing her to lean over her knees and cough.
The scene enraged you, floored you, and you felt your blood run hot. You grasped your pistol and jerked forward, swinging it up and firing, shooting three of the peggies in the chest consecutively as the many innocents ducked down to avoid your rapid gunfire. Your clip ran out and you didnt even bother to swap to the half full one, instead swapping to your rifle.
You took an aim, but didnt shoot as a flash ran past you. Venus and her wolves ran into your view, and she lunged at one of the cultists, shoving herself into their waist and shoving him to the ground, at the same time grabbing a knife from her back and stabbing it into his eye. The cuktist next to them had twisted to defend his partner but jerked back as a hole blew out the back of his head.
You looked to the roof of the building next to you, and Crow sat perched in a nest of signs as cover. A wolf ran past Venus and lunged, jumping on a few of the others that were centring on Venus and ripping their necks apart. You refocused and began shooting others in the distance, sure that Crow would protect her sister. Venus moved and began to rapidly cut the bindings of the townspeople, freeing them before Crow fell back, and the ladder slid, following Venus and her wolves to the next portion of town.
You ran, grabbing a few clips from bodies as you passed them, and caught up, only to go still by the Girl’s side. In front of them, a woman, you were guessing Red, was covered in blood, slamming her boot into a peggie’s chest and leaning down, grabbing the knives from his pouch before standing and throwing them into another two peggie’s heads behind her. She twisted and waved at your group briefly, still fighting. Venus shook from her Shock, and Crow raised her rifle as you stormed forward and continued to use your own rifle to shoot the cultists from close range.
“Baba Yaga,” Venus cheered as she cut the bindings of Pastor Jerome.
“Starshine!” Red exclaimed, twisting past a cultist's bat, then grabbing his wrist and pulling him to the pavement.
“How’d you get out?” Crow asked as she shot the final peggie. Venus was crouched, cutting off the bindings of the last person, who went running as soon as they could.
“Oh, you know,” Red began as she walked around, gathering the throwing knives from peggie’s skulls. “I just pulled my legs through. Old circus trick.”
The chattering stopped as your radio screached to life and the chatter of the pilot entering the airspace blaired.
“I see them, im goin’ in,” he babbled, and the plane dipped down, just over the buildings, nd tried to shoot at the group of girls, trying to isolate you for your capture. The girls scattered, wach taking a different form of cover. Venus dipped into the open garage door, Red took cover behind a car, and Crow backed herself under an awning.
“Don't. harm. the. Deputy.” John spoke over the radio. The plane twisted and turned around to try and take another pass in the town, and your brain clicked, and you ran, jumping behind the stone fence of the church and lying in the grass as cover.
“Ive got it,” sky shouted as she watched the plane spin and the nose dipped down. Crow was quick to brace her rifle against a post that held the awning up, then looked in her sights and shot.
the plane veered off to the side and dipped further down, crashing just outside the town. You grimaced as you watched smoke billow into the air.
“Yikes,” Venus muttered as she ran towards you, while you stood up from ground.
“I feel a little useless..” You stated, looking back to the now very bored looking Crow.
“No, no. Don't feel that way. You're only just starting out. You'll get better with time. It's very hard to go from being a Deputy about to make your first arrest to a member of a very prominent resistance.”
The radios, once again, began to crackle before John's voice broke through the static.
“Sin is pervasive… It drives us to do unspeakable acts,” he paused.
“I know the feelings that must drive you, I know them intimately. I can cleanse your soul, so you can join us in Eden. To join Joseph. Why do you fight against your destiny, so?” You heard him sign deeply.
“It will be worth it. My people will are coming for you. Try not to fight them, or the harder we'll have to scrub.”
You felt hot panic course through your veins and quickly bid the girl next to you a goodbye.
Venus tried to reach out to you, and said something. You didnt hear her. You onky heard the sound of the blood rushing in your ears and a pressure built its way in your lungs. You were moving faster than your own mind could keep up with, it was hard for you to focus on anything. You weren't sure where you were even going until you came to face your four-wheeler and Boomer still sat on the back of it.
“Good boy, Boom Boom,” you said hushedly, and you got on the back and began to drive as fast as you safely could.
You had to make distance from Falls End, and fast. John's hunters would probably start there and try to spiral out in an attempt to catch you. Maybe you could backtrack? Try to hide on Dutch's island for a few days until you can get back into the open? No; it'd give the cult more time to prepare, and risk Dutch's location, too. You couldn't risk that, not after he'd helped you. You drove and drove until you found an empty field, devoid of any people or crops, and nearly slid the ATV into the ditch as you pulled off to the side. You got off and called Boomer to come with you as you practically jumped into the deep grass and clawed your way up the dirt to the fence, which you rather ungraciously climbed through.
You cut yourself on one of the barbs, and hissed at the sensation. Once yiu were stable on the other side of the fence, you looked at the slit on the webbing between your thumb and finger, then dipped your head and locked the cut.
You didn't even hear the trucks behind you. Only the sound of a single pistol firing brought you out of your haze, but you didn't process anything as your vision went foggy, then dark. The last thing you felt was your head falling into the soft, tilled soil underneath you.
I actually really like the motifs on these ! it was initially inspired by The Last of Us (one of the greatest games of all time), but I think it works for other contexts too.
others : 001 / 002 / 003
feel free to use; please like, reblog, and credit 〜
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Summary: After recently transferring to Hope County, Deputy (Name) Rook is dragged by the Sheriff and a US Marshal to take a seedy cult leader into custody. Something begins to act up as their multiple soulmate marks begin to burn themselves into place and cement bonds that Rook believes should have never existed in the first place.
Content warning:Cannon-typical violence, Soulmate au, Religious imagery & symbolism, Cults, Angst, Slow-burn, Eventual smut, Everything that is Far Cry 5, which is honestly a warning in itself. The author is sleep deprived.
Additional warnings: Rea Rea's dead body. Putting down peggies
Prologue Masterlist
notes: If you are to imagine me writing, imagine me rubbing my hands together like a fly with a thousand-yard stare. Two mugs of green tea and an extra-strength mug of vanilla comoro plus a mug of lemon-balm & Lavender later… When doing mission dialogue i will be changing a few things to add more personality, as this is already canon-divergent. So the radio message for ReaReas’s isnt gonna be 100% accurate, but be more true to the good ol state of mother montana.
CHAPTER ONE: The First Step to Redemption
Joseph had always believed that when he found his soulmate, the words on his back would be spoken in an extremely humorous manner. He expected a sarcastic quip, perhaps to his own remark- something like a captain obvious statement. He certainly hadn't predicted that it would be made by a deputy directly after they’d vomited, then immediately followed by cuffing him and placing him under arrest. Somewhere, deep in his chest, it wounded his pride that his own soulmate had physically rejected the immediate evidence of their holy union. To him, his whole life, aside from the lapse he had with his late wife (which he now was beginning to consider a bout of lust, rather than the proper union that should be between most married couples), was meant to find the one whose writing was scrawled on his back. To him, the words were a vision of beauty. They were meant to be cherished. And he held that belief right until the point that the Deputy had let the very words, filled with such bitterness.
Was this meant to be a test? Some joke from God that told him his faith- the act of sacrifice he made of his firstborn hadn't been enough? Why else would his fate be the very thing that broke the first seal? The very same hell that he'd seen, prophesied, even. Perhaps the holy lamb wasn't that, or him, but instead another sacrificial pawn in the Lord's game; The Deputy.
He rubbed his forehead with his forefinger and thumb, then his eyelids. He knew that wasn't it. He knew he'd proved himself in the eyes of the lord. Almost three hours had passed since that ‘sacred’ encounter. He’d since returned to the Seed Ranch in his brother John’s region and settled at the dining table with his siblings.
“So…” Faith sat in her chair, her hands folded on the table as she awkwardly twiddled her thumbs. “Are we going to talk about… The Deputy?” she pursed her lips, then swallowed. Her eyes were lowered to the table, and her head was tilted downward as she avoided looking at the uncomfortable situation lying before them.
“I think the situation is Obvious, Faith.” It took John a moment to respond. His elbow was on the table, and his thumb pressed on his cheek while his other fingers cradled his temple. His eyes were also downcast, but his face was relatively blank, or at the minimum, undecipherable.
“I think it's fucking hilarious-” Jacob began, only pausing as Joseph cut in a quiet scold for his language. “I mean, imagine the balls it takes to reject someone that openly. Especially Joe of all people.”
“I wasn’t rejected.” He placed his palms on the table before him and took in a weary breath.
“That's not what it looked like. They vomited. Violently. And then cuffed you and pulled you like a hobbled horse.” John’s face looked almost judgmental, with a corner of his lip lifted. Faith drooped her head further down and lifted her hand to scratch her scalp at her hairline.
“And then they ran away from you.” She lifted her head. “And now they've not been found. That doesn't seem like a very accepting action.”
“And they also elbowed you.” Jacob paused between his sentences, trying to provide emphasis. “And they kneed you… And nearly broke your jaw.” He put a fist in front of his mouth with his thumb tucked under his chin, nodding, acting like he was making a point with any semblance of a meaningful thought. “While you were holding them. If I had my soulmate, I probably wouldn't go around and beat their face while they're already bruised from a helicopter crash.”
“The Deputy is only lost, that is all. Lost in a spell of sin.”His fingers and his palm flexed as he stopped himself from motioning in the air. “They can atone.” His eyes fixated on John. John put his arm down and stretched it towards the mug in front of him, but he didnt grab it. “They have to atone. If they do not, the Gates of Eden will shut to you, John.” John’s shoulders sagged, and his face turned solemn. A pressure- the weight of anxiety settled over the table.
“Yes, Joseph.”
The subsequent events following your escape seemed more like hell than anything you could have been. After following the trail far enough, you found some shabby cabin. After that, you knocked out a peggie with a shovel, looting his pistol and radio, then finding the trailer to convalense with the Marshal, getting into a shootout, then watching as the wackjob drove both of you through roadblocks and over a bridge while you both fired aimlessly at the persistent peggies who tailed you. This all resulted in the bridge getting blown up, you nearly drowning, then watching the Marshal get taken into cult custody, before who you now know as Dutch rescued you off the shore and zip-tied you to a bed til you had woken up. According to him, nearly drowning had put you out for just over a day.
To settle the debt you had with him, you cleared his island of the loitering peggies, the singular shrine, then repaired his radio tower. You'd even got a chance to loot an old prepper stash. That was all it took for him to send you on your way to John’s third of the county with a suggestion towards Fall’s End. You were fairly familiar with the town, but not much else of Holland valley, as you only frequented the Spread Eagle. Instead, when you tuned into your radio and listened to a few frequencies. The one that sounded the most urgent was Rea Rea’s farm. Her message played on repeat, and through the static, you heard her desperation.
“Boomer’s been acting off since the reaping began. Everythang’s been goin’ wrong. Oh God, there's trucks pullin’ up-” before the abrupt sound of the line going dead, and then it replays. Whatever was happening there it had spooked her enough to loop the message and that was enough for you to look at the map that Duch had given you and decide that's where you were headed.
You hadn't been walking very long before the sound of tires screeching to a halting stop forced you to shift your path and duck off the road to a tree.
“They’re fast,” one of the peggie’s hushedly spoke.
“A good trait for another foster of the project to have.” Had word really travelled that quickly across the county that all the peggies knew you were Joseph’s soulmate? What would the uprising think? Would they even believe that you're on their side? For all the project knew, you could reject him and seek out one of the three other marks you had. They hadn't known she had the other marks, of course, but the only reason they knew of the Fathers was that it burned her shirt away, and he proceeded to preach to the literal choir about it. And, of course, your response was autopilot. There really was no hiding the fact that they were soulmates, with how responsive the mark was.
“They’re over there!” The first peggie spotted you and tried to shoot you with a bliss bullet, but missed and fired three into the tree that you turned and pressed your back into. You dropped the clip from the pistol youd looted from the shache and counted the bullets before slotting it back into the firearm and waited for the shots to quiet before you slipped out from the tree and hurriedly shot the two in their chests, twice each. You watched them recoil and fall and quickly moved towards them, looking them over. One had a bat, and the other had a pistol and a rifle you hadn't been trained to use. You grabbed the bat and used it to strike the one who was still breathing in the head. You winced as you realised you put too much force into it and caused a portion of his skull to cave in.
You crouched down and began to reload the missing bullets from your clip from his, then slid the remainder of his clip into your pockets. You grabbed the bat from the ground and then slid the belt connected to the rifle over your shoulder. It only took you another twenty minutes to get to Rea Rea’s.
The view that you witnessed made you dizzy. A large cage was right in the open, the blue heeler right in it. Two of the peggies were pressing themselves against the bars, taunting the poor dog. A ban with a gas tank was spraying something, but you were too focused on the other three people walking the fenceline. You felt something inside you shift, and it was rattling. You pulled the rifle up and sprayed the fenceline as you ran across the road.
You supposed the pyromaniac hadn't got the memo that you were a holy grail off-limits because he was quick to turn and start spraying the path before you with fire. You pivoted and swapped to the pistol, shifting to the underside to get another two good shots at the fuel take, sending bits of his flesh and bone spraying like human shrapnel. The final two were still in shock. They looked young, and the girl looked as if she were about to wet herself. The boy next to her began to pull up his radio but you were far to quick to shoot it, and his hand was blown to shards in the process. He screamed and curled over himself, cradling the rapidly bleeding wound. You were able to turn and shoot the girl, then back down to shoot him right in the head.
It only took you a few seconds to run halfway across the patch and to Boomer’s cage, “Rea Rea?” you shouted as you shot at the lock, then ripped it down to open the sliding panel.
“Rea Rea, I got boomer!” you tried calling to her again, but the dog had other plans. He shot out past you and was already beelining towards the house. “Boomer, wait.” you chased after him, but you realised his haste.
The dog tumbled over the body and practically lay on it. Rea Rea sat there, belly down in a pool of her own blood. A man lay next to her, and you had to hold your mouth to stop from puking.
“Oh god, Boomer.” You kneeled next to the whining pup and sat there, staring at the bodies. There was bullet spray on the walls behind them, but the bodies were stiff. It had been hours. If only you'd woken up sooner. If only you’d made it out of the water quicker- if only-
Your thoughts halted as Boomer lay down, lacing his head on your thigh and whining. He looked at you with the widest, saddest eyes, and you felt the need to comfort him. “Its okay, Boomer. You've got me.” You pulled at the radio on your hip and moved the dial to a wider cast and spoke.
“Duch, and anyone else out there. This is Deputy (Name) Rook. Rea’ Rea is dead. I've got Boomer back from the peggies, alive. I can't bury her on my own.”
“We’re on the way,” some man responded. You didnt know who. It had only taken five minutes for a caravan of cars and trucks to come, hauling ass with towns members to pull in to the drive and get out.
One put a hand on your shoulder as you still sat there with Boomer, and you looked to him with teary eyes.
“I’m sorry I couldn't save her.”
“We can’t save everybody, Dep. What you can do is start helping us wipe out the poison they're pumping into our farmland.” He pointed to a silo across the farm. “John Seed has been putting Bliss into the silos and the fertiliser. It's pretty flammable, so you can blow it up… Since Rea Rea is gone and Fall’s End is overrun with the cult, we are thinking about setting up shop here. Like a base, Help get some people free and get them stuff to protect themselves.”
“You think you can hold them back- stop them from taking the place back? I think they were only here for Boomer… but…” You thought back to all the times you went drinking with Rea Rea. It's what she would have wanted: to provide a safe place for the county. “I think I'll keep Boomer, it’ll keep y'all safer. Keep the cult from coming back. They're already chasing Boomer and me anyway. I might as well keep him around.”
“We can hold them off from here. Ill take care of her, though. Make sure she and him get buried properly.” You stood up and nodded. You knew that this man, whoever he was, seemed competent enough to care for Rea’s body. He stopped you from going too far by putting his hand on your wrist. “And dep? This is a war now. Make sure you’re on the right side.” Your face immediately shifted from sombre to sour, and you ripped your hand from his grasp.
“Do you have no empathy? I've killed seven people in less than an hour just to save Rea Rea, and I was too late- but I came. That was better than anything any of you have done. How long has her message been on loop? How long has her body been cold? Why was I the only one here?”
“Now, Dep, you know that's no-”
“No, you don't get to say that to me! You just pulled up with a dozen people in five vehicles, and I took out everyone here on my own.”
“Well, we ain't you, Dep. We don't have training. We ain't cops. And we ain't a goddamn peggie’s soulmate.” Your face twisted as his gaze became judgmental.
“That's right, I am. I could’a gone with him, given up on this county, and been treated like a seraphim among the cult, and I didn’t, I came back, and I fought for you guys. I thought you’d take me in. I knew I was an outsider, and that's hard in small towns. But I didnt think yall’d be such dicks!” You hadn't given him a moment to respond as you brushed past him and strode towards the white, folding table that someone had set out next to their truck and stacked with ammo. You grabbed a hunting bag and two boxes of rounds, along with a bulletproof vest. (how they had their hands on that, you didnt know.) along with a stack of grenades that all fit snugly in the bag. You threw a wad of cash onto the table- left over from the pants you wore and picked up from Dutch. He probably wouldn't mind. The person working at the table didnt care much to count it and let you on your way.
Poll below the options, Thos is for "Stuck in a Seedy Situation, the fanfic in writing. If you have other ideas please comment and click "Other" on the poll.
Summary: After recently transferring to Hope County, Deputy (Name) Rook is dragged by the Sheriff and a US Marshal to take a seedy cult leader into custody.Something begins to act up as their multiple soulmate marks begin to burn themselves into place and cement bonds that Rook believes should have never existed in the first place.
Content warning:Cannon-typical violence, Soulmate au, Religious imagery & symbolism, Cults, Angst, Slow-burn, Eventual smut, Everything that is Far Cry 5, which is honestly a warning in itself. The author is sleep deprived.
Additional warnings: NA
Masterlist
notes:Chapter has not been reviewed or edited. While in my best efforts to keep Reader/ deputy as ambiguous as possible, Reader does have hair. Length and colour are not specified. Skin or eye colour is not specified. gender ambiguity may be subject to change from audience perspective, as i was originally intending to write for a female audience. I tried to change all that was written, but some may have slipped through. A poll for Faith is provided below, at the end of the chapter
Prologue: The Beginniging of the End
You watched as the video cut out, a signal error message displayed over the static of the tablet. The sheriff tapped your knee as he spoke to you.
“..Ookie, Rookie. You're wasting your time; there is no signal up here.” You sucked on your lip and sighed as you looked to Marshal Burke, and he spoke about the area the helicopter had been crossing over while he read the map with the debrief. Everyone's head raised as you all looked to your left, staring at the massive statue- a monument of the Father. You'd seen him in your own debrief.
“Oh fuck, there he is-” Hudson said as she watched the statue fly by.
“Are we officially in Peggy country, then?” you muttered, hardly heard over the sound of the rushing wind. You were quiet.
“That's right,” Hudson said. “We’re here.” It was obvious that Marshal was growing impatient as he asked Whitehorse about how much longer we had left in the godforsaken flying machine.
“Long enough for you to change your mind, so we can turn this bird around. You know?”
“He can't ignore a federal warrant, Sheriff,” you said, putting your hand on the papers that Burke was raising, trying to show him the warrant at the top of the stack. Burke pulled his hand away and returned the papers to his lap, shooting you a glare. Whitehorse cut in,
“I just want you to understand the reality of this situation, Marshal. The Father- Joseph Seed, he's not a man to be fucked with. We’ve had run-ins before, and they've not always gone our way- before Rook came up here.”
“Yeah, well, we have laws for a reason, Sheriff.” Burke motioned to the papers again. “Joseph Seed has to learn that.” He leaned forward and tucked the papers under his thigh so they wouldn't fly.
“You'll be fine,” Hudson nodded to you as she turned her back at the doors that Whitehorse was opening. The choir got louder, and the Marshal and Sheriff were already walking forward, leaving you to catch up in the centre of them.
“Something is coming, you can feel it, can't you?” The father began speaking- and you stared at the glowing, warped cross above him. “That we are creeping towards the edge… And there will be a reckoning.” You felt the air in your chest grow heavy, and your throat ran dry. Your arms- the tattoos scrawled across your arms and hips began to itch. You pulled the sleeve of your uniform down further. “That is why we started the project. Because we know what happens next.” His head shifted with his gaze as he looked at all the people in the pews, momentarily ignoring the presence of you and your companions.
“They will come. They will try to take from us, take our guns… Take our freedom, take our faith. We will not let them.” He raised his head a little higher as he stared at you and the two men at your sides.
“Sheriff, c’mon-” Burke began, but Whitehorse cut him off.
“Just hold on, Marshal.”
“We will not let their greed, or their immorality, or their depravity hurt us anymore.” You were steps away from the father, and your eyes travelled to the three ‘siblings’ behind him. Faces you also recognised from your reading. Your tattoos, the ones there from birth, began to burn, and felt like fire clawing its way up your limbs and torso, clawing at your throat. You knew where this was going, and silently prayed you were wrong- that your body, your soul, was confused.
“There will be no more suffering,” he shouted over the two men at your side as they tried to speak.
“Joseph Seed,” Bruke shouted as he raised the warrant. “I have a warrant issued for your arrest, On the suspicion of kidnapping with the intent to harm!” Joseph only stared, as if he was gawking that someone had dared raise their voice to him. “Now, I want you to step forward and keep your hands where I can see ‘em” The father raised his hands, and his rosary flashed in the light, peggies from the pews muttering and voicing their discontent.
“Here they are. Locusts in our garden… You see, they've come for me?” He stared at you as his hands fell, and multiple people, patrons of the cult, stepped in front of him, shielding him. “They’ve come to take me away from you; they've come to destroy all that we've built!” The peggies from the pews hollered, and some raised their guns. A commotion began to stir, and now people were yelling as your ears rang. You stared at the Father, directly in the middle across from you, as the sheriff tried to diffuse the situation. You couldn't look away. You didn't even notice the seeds behind him staring, either.
“Everyone, calm down,” Whitehorse said as people watched Joseph step down. The cult began to quiet near instantly.
“We knew this moment would come. We've prepared for it,” he said, looking to the two followers he stepped between. “Go, go.” He ushered them away. “God will not let them take me.” You watched as the following began to expel from the church, all of them shuffling out past you, glaring. When you looked back at Joseph, his hands were raised in the air.
“I saw when the lamb opened the first seal, and I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts say, ‘Come and see’.”
“Step forward,” Burke bristled, and Joseph dropped his hands, stepping forward and looking directly at the marshal.
“And I saw, and behold,” He pointed a finger at Burke before directing it to the sheriff. “It was a white horse,” he put his hand down, and his gaze shifted to your own. “And hell followed with him.” There wasn't even a breath of pause before the marshal spoke. Already turned to you.
“Rookie, cuff this son of a bitch, You looked at him- the fire in your left arm nearly debilitating as you grabbed the cuffs on your waist.
“God will not let you take me.” The mark, the first words directed at you from your soulmate- the very ones that branded black into your skin began to gleam, shining through your shirt as the heat began to burn at the shirt above it. Cinders ashed away the portion of the sleeve that covered the declaration, and faded as soon as your skin could breathe. The cuffs clattered to the ground, and the six other people in the church simply stared at them.
Stared as you bent over and vomited on the floors of the church. Shaking as you grabbed the thankfully clean cuffs from next to your boots, you rose back up and wiped whatever was around your mouth with your intact sleeve, then looked up at the man before you.
“Guess there is no hiding that one, huh?” You said as you cuffed the pastor, who, just as the others, was still in awe at the now white tattoo on your arm, wincing at the words, which were now shining on his back, cemented themselves in the white colour. You ignored it and the gaping looks of his siblings behind him. Your others still itched and burned, but you ignored the sensation as you grabbed the centre of the chain linking the cuffs together and yanked Joseph forward with them.
“Rook- wait. Rookie,” Whitehorse frantically followed you as you began to march, laughing the silent cult leader behind you. “Deputy Rook.”
“What?” you snapped as you stopped on your heel, half turning to stare at your superior, all while Joseph bumped into your back. You swore he whispered to you and felt his breath on your neck, but you didnt hear him. Your mind was still buzzing, and your ears were still ringing, your stomach was still churning with he images of your now confirmed soulmate (or at least one of them, you thought. You were sure the others wouldn't turn out the same way Joseph had.), gouging out a civilian's eyes, and you were huffing, nearly shaking. Was it anger? Or perhaps some deeper, more grotesque emotion you couldn't identify. You didnt know. Your head jerked as you spoke up again. “What could it possibly be, Sheriff?” You swallowed and shoved the Pastor back by his cuffs, giving your burning body space.
“Rook, I can take him if you want to go on ahead and sort yourself. This looks like a difficult situation for you to handle immediately for yourself.”
The surrounding peggies began to shift. They were already agitated, but they didnt understand what was happening before them. You straightened your posture and released a heavy breath before you looked around.
“Let's just go,” You said as you pushed Joseph in front of you. Slowly, Joseph looked over his shoulder, his eyes fairly unreadable, before he looked forward and slowly walked forward. He raised his head higher and began to preach to the peggies he passed.
“My brothers and sisters,” he shouted as the crowds went silent, even the rabidly barking dogs seemed to quiet. You pushed him by his shoulder, trying to speed up his pace to go around the building. His pace didnt change, but his voice grew louder to reach his people. “God had bestowed my soulmate, my destined devotee.”
“Shut up,” You hissed.
“This Deputy, they have not found the way. They may be fearful.”
“Shut up, Seed.” You enunciated as you moved your hand to the centre of his back, trying to usher him before he spilt too much.
“You cannot harm this deputy, as it is God's plan for them to live in Eden with us, and they are lost.”
“Get into the fucking helicopter,” You said, giving him a final shove, forcing him to nearly trip in the dirt and mud.
The helicopter was filled with noise, the sound of gunfire and screams had been roaring as Hudson attempted takeoff. Peggies were crawling up the ascending aircraft like cockroaches, and Burke used his service weapon to shoot one’s brains out. Everyone was shouting, and they were still latched onto the landing skids. You hadn't even noticed the father humming, his head laid back as he stared at you below his glasses. Your eyes were instead on the glass of the cockpit as one peggie stood on the nose and threw himself into the blades.
The helicopter was spinning, and you felt bile rise in your throat, seeing everyone brace themselves. You felt dizzy at the twirling trees and the sheer force of the rotation. Someone, you don't know who, shouted “Brace for impact,” but you hardly heard it before everything went black.
Your head was pounding as you craned your neck upwards, and you opened your eyes to still spotty vision. You weren't sure where you were at the moment, but the muffled voices of the person holding you in their arms with a rising set of flames behind you was enough to push enough adrenaline through your system to kick your instincts into gear. You thrashed, only to have Joseph, the one holding you, try to grip you to his chest harder and shush you. It only earned him an elbow to his cheek, then your knee to the opposite side of his jaw. In the bustle, you had managed to squirm free and dropped to the ground on your back below him. He was gripping his jaw as one of his pests leaned down to reach for you, but your foot flew up, and you knocked his jaw upwards, your boot landing with a sickening thud. You rolled and shifted, getting to your knees within a breath and turned to look at Joseph over your shoulder before jolting to the burning helicopter. You saw nobody left in it, and felt stones settle in your stomach.
Assumably, they'd escaped, but based on how long you'd seemed to have been knocked out post-crash, they may have been taken just as Joseph had tried to take you.
“Deputy, you can't run. You lost your chance to walk away.” Joseph was already walking slowly behind you. He outreached his hands; his head tilted and you watched as his glasses slipped down his nose. “Come to me, and we can save you.”
“Fuck you and your piss-coloured glasses.” You turned and jumped through the fire, across the cabin of the helicopter and out the other side, and followed the trail into the woods.
Summary: After recently transferring to Hope County, Deputy (Name) Rook is dragged by the Sheriff and a US Marshal to take a seedy cult leader into custody.Something begins to act up as their multiple soulmate marks begin to burn themselves into place and cement bonds that Rook believes should have never existed in the first place.
Content warning: Cannon-typical violence, Soulmate au, Religious imagery & symbolism, Cults, Angst, Slow-burn, Eventual smut, Everything that is Far Cry 5, which is honestly a warning in itself. The author is sleep deprived.
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Graphics/dividers - @saradika-graphics @saradika Banner my myself (from game art), @cafekitsune, @moosgraphics
I wanna make a polyseed (Far Cry 5) fic and I'm trying to decide if I should keep Faith alive or kill her off. Personally, i wanna keep her alive because she needs so much more attention, but i don't know how many people would want that.
Summary: Hosea's meddling has you and Arthur heading into the local town of Valentine. You're on a mission to get some clothes of your own. And Arthur's looking to help some woman named Mary. You don't know who she is, but she must be important for him to leave you all on your own in a strange town for the whole day. One thing is certain, you're not forgiving Mr. Morgan for this anytime soon.
You feel Arthur’s worried stare boring into the side of your head and let out a heavy sigh. “I am perfectly capable of driving a wagon, Mr. Morgan.” You turn towards him with a frown and his face falls flat. Like he hasn’t just been drilling holes into you for the past five minutes.
“I know, I know.” His brows furrow and he shoots you a worried look. “Still, you don’t have much experience.”
“Oh,” you huff and glare at him, tugging the reins a little to the right on accident. “Would you calm down?”
“Tree,” he says, eyes darting forward. You shake your head and he rips the reins out of your hand, “Tree, woman!” He doesn’t exactly shout at you, but you still feel like you’re being yelled at. Finally turning forward you see what he was saying.
“Oops,” you whisper, watching him direct the horses back onto the trail and away from the trees. “Well, it’s not my fault these ridiculous things don’t know not to walk into trees,” you argue, motioning at the horses.
“Hey,” he chuckles, “don’t blame the horses.”
You see Hosea lean forward from the back of the wagon. He peers between you both with a smile. “Having fun up here?” He asks you, nodding towards an overbearing Arthur.
You roll your eyes with a faux pout, “Not really. Arthur here can’t seem to wedge that stick out of his ass.” Arthur turns to glare at you and you nudge his calf with your foot playfully, giving him a sly grin. He fights it, but you see the way the corners of his lips twitch up.
Hosea glances between you both, something mischievous playing on his face. “What’re you up to?” You ask, suspicion brewing as you practically see a plan forming in his head.
Hosea sends you a smile that does nothing to assuage your reservations. “Nothing, nothing. Arthur,” he chides, turning towards the man, “let her try for a while.”
Arthur sighs through his nose, you see him glance out the side of his eye at you with a perturbed expression. You don’t know why he’s so adamant about not letting you drive. You only crashed the wagon once and that wasn’t your fault. The horses got spooked by a cougar as you were going down the mountain. Still, he hasn’t let go of it.
You know he’s not used to denying Hosea, but he takes too long to relent. Just as he’s starting to hand the reins over, the wagon bumps into something. The left side of it flies up, sending you sliding down the bench towards Arthur. His hand shoots out, bracing you so you don’t tip out of the wagon. You can’t help but flush at the feeling of his arm around you, caught off guard by the reaction.
You push that down, deciding to address it later. The left side dips down now and the horses come to a bumpy stop. You let out a rough sigh, turning around and glancing behind the wagon. Arthur drove you all into a large rock, knocking the wheel off the wagon.
You can’t help but bark a laugh at his expense. “Well, Mr. Morgan, looks like I’m not the only one in need of some driving lessons.”
He takes his hat off, running his hands through his hair and glaring at you. “Enough,” he grouses. He jumps down from the bench, walking off to fetch the wheel. Hosea climbs to the front of the wagon, taking a seat beside you.
“I suppose once he gets that fixed, I should take over.”
You laugh, grinning at Arthur as he props the wagon up. “I think that would be best.”
His head snaps up and he glares at you both, “Shut up, both of ya.” You can’t help but laugh a little harder at his grumpy tone.
Mary-Beth helps you set up your few belongings beside the tent alongside the other women’s trunks. You glance over your shoulder, watching Arthur pitch his tent and rifle through his satchel. A part of you is going to miss the solace of having Arthur beside you at night.
It was comforting, having such a strong man to watch over you while you slept. Especially while you healed. You supposed you were healed now, though, and you didn’t have much more of an excuse to be near him. Not like you did before.
A part of you is surprised by this sudden attachment to him. You should have seen it coming, though, this sudden onslaught of feelings. It has been so long since you’ve been around any truly decent man.
Your husband had been good to you at first, but they always are, aren’t they? You hadn’t had some great love story. But you’d been lucky for two people of high status to get along as well as you had. You suppose that success changes every man. For some, they turn into a miser. They want to keep their money as close to their chest as they can.
Your husband had been the opposite. He’d flaunted his wealth in every way he could. Placed larger bets than was smart. Let people borrow from him and never collected. And then he got into it with some bad men who set him down the wrong path. They made it so he was their cash cow, milking him for what he was worth and turning him against you all the same. They couldn’t risk any words of wisdom getting him to think about what he was doing.
There was no sharp pain in your chest when you thought about your husband lying dead in the snow somewhere. You didn’t want to lay down and weep. You didn’t even miss the ring on your finger. The one that those O’Driscoll bastards had stolen. If you didn’t remember every bad night with him then you could almost pretend that you’d never been married at all.
Since he had turned down that path, you hadn’t met a man you thought was worth knowing. Until Arthur. He could say what he wanted about himself, but you’d never had a man treat you as gently as he has. Maybe it’s creating some warped sense of admiration. It could explain the coying urge to want to repay him and be near him at every chance.
You almost wished you weren’t healed. If only so you could make up an excuse to see him. Now, you’re not sure what you’re going to do. You think he might have only spoken with you because he felt a sense of responsibility towards you. Alive and well, he’s got nothing to say to you.
“My, I think I see hearts in your eyes.”
Your head snaps up and Mary-Beth grins at you. “Oh,” you catch the teasing glint in her eye and frown. “Hush, you. You’re reading too many of those damn books.”
You help her haul a crate up, pretending to look busy as Miss Grimshaw passes by. “Uh uh,” she argues. “I might fill my head with too many love stories, but I’m no fool. You’ve got it bad.”
Before you can object Tilly walks up. “You talkin’ ‘bout Arthur?”
You frown, brows furrowed as you drop the act of unpacking anything. “How’d you know?”
Mary-Beth and Tilly share a knowing look, both of them giggling slightly. You can’t help but feel like it’s at your expense. “I’ve just never seen a lady so attached to him. Hard to stomach the smell sometimes,” Tilly teases.
“Hey, he doesn’t smell that bad,” it’s a weak argument and an even worse deflection but it makes them laugh harder. You can’t help but laugh along, cheeks aching with a smile. You’re not too much older than them, having been married to your husband at a young age. You find yourself enjoying the company of women your own age more than you thought you would.
Someone clears their throat behind you all and you turn around to find a very upset-looking Miss Grimshaw. The three of you straighten up, scrambling for something to fix. It’s not until she shakes her head and walks away that you start cracking up again. Tilly shoots you a look, turning up her nose and mocking the woman.
You smile, throwing your shoulders back and trying to adopt her haughty walk. It makes Mary-Beth snort so loud that Arthur turns towards you all. He sends you a questioning look and you can’t help but flush, turning around and busying yourself with anything other than him.
“Knew it,” Mary-Beth whispers behind you as she walks away. You roll your eyes and sigh but you know she’s right. Clearly, you’re feeling something for him. But it feels wrong too. Too fast and too soon for you to be feeling anything but lucky to be alive.
A few days later, once you’re all settled and Miss Grimshaw is finally satisfied with the camp’s state, you all gather around the fire. You’re late to join the others, having to change your dress after Uncle spilled whiskey all over the other one.
You walk towards the glowing firelight and the sounds of Javier strumming lightly on his guitar. He’s not singing yet but you’re sure a few more drinks for everyone and the whole county will hear your hollering.
You try to find an opening among everyone but most of the seats have already been taken. Just as you go to sit beside Charles, Tilly throws herself down on the log. She doesn’t look at you, just fiddles with the hem of her dress and slurps loudly on her drink. Your eyes narrow suspiciously but you don’t call her out.
Instead, you roam the faces of those around you, seeing a spot beside Sadie. She nods her head at you but before you can go claim it, Hosea grabs her attention. He sits beside her, asking her about some nonsense you can’t hear from where you stand. And just like that, it seems everywhere you look any open spot was gone. Someone either slid over or stole it. It left you with just one place left.
Arthur looks up from his cup as you approach. “You mind?” You ask, lingering by the log, unsure of whether or not he wants your company.
He slides over easily, “‘Course not.” You let out a small breath of relief and sit beside him. You don’t know if it’s divine interference or a few nosy campmates, but it feels too coincidental that the only open spot is beside him.
There are a few moments of stilted silence between you. It might all be in your head. You’ve messed yourself up, putting too much thought into how you feel about him. Now, you don’t even know how to talk to him. You just stare into the fire, and watch the shadows play across the other's faces.
Arthur’s voice breaks you out of your concentration. “You been feelin’ okay?”
You’re surprised by the genuine concern in his voice. He really cares and it’s such a strange idea to you- meeting a man so attentive. “I’ve been a little sore from the ride, but nothing too bad.” When you turn towards him you’re surprised to find him already looking at you.
It’s easy, to just stare into his eyes and pretend it’s just the two of you by the fire. It casts a comforting glow across the both of you, makes the dark night look a little warmer. Eases the chill of the night and lulls you into a place where you finally let the anxiousness that plagues you melt away.
“How ‘bout you, Arthur, you okay?”
He chuckles quietly, nodding his head and glancing down at his lap. “Yeah, I’m alright.”
The soft way he speaks to you lures you into a false sense of security. You wonder if it would really be so bad to say what you’re thinking. He’s so kind to you, you’re sure even if he doesn’t feel the same he wouldn’t be cruel.
“Would it be odd if I said I miss bunking with you?” You laugh a little at yourself, trying to downplay just how much you truly mean that.
You seemed to have made a horrible mistake though. Being around the woman of the camp has allowed you the comfort of a loose tongue. Judging by the way his whole body stills and he won’t meet your eyes, you think you might need to tighten it once more. “Oh,” you sigh, rubbing an embarrassed hand down your face. “I’m sorry, forget I said anything.”
“No, no,” Arthur’s quick to stop you. He glances around, making sure no one else is listening. “Nothing wrong with that. I just think,” he pauses and lets out a huff. Your face pinches and you bite your tongue, trying to stop yourself from shouting at him to just spit it out. He sucks in a deep breath and turns to you with a pained look. “There are better men than me out there, Mrs. Rowe. I think you’d be better off goin’ after them.”
“What-” He gets to his feet before you can object. You’d like to tell him what a fool he is. How he’s a perfectly fine man and you can choose well enough for yourself.
“Good night,” he tilts his hat down, ambling off towards his tent and leaving the warmth of the fire behind.
You look down at your lap with a frown. “Oh,” you whisper, “You’re such a fool, Arthur Morgan.” You watch him slip into his tent and feel like a stone has replaced your heart. You feel heavy now, wanting nothing more than to sleep the sting of rejection off. You quietly slip away from the fire and head towards the women’s tent.
You ease onto the rocky ground and pull a blanket over your shoulders. You’d never thought you’d long for the rotted floorboards of that shed in the mountains but you crave that comfort more than ever.
Arthur adjusts his hat and steps out of his tent. He adjusts to the bright morning light and finds his gaze drifting toward the tent the other women are sleeping in. You’re not there, your bed roll fussed up like you’d just gotten up. There’s a split second where he worries you might have changed your mind about the outlaw life and left.
He’s not happy with the stomach-dropping feeling that leaves him with. He shouldn’t care whether or not you stay. Still, he isn’t satisfied until he looks around and sees you sharing some coffee with Hosea.
He debates walking over to you both when Pearson ambles towards him. “Arthur,” he barks out. He holds a white slip of paper in his hands and you turn away from Hosea to glance back at him. “A woman brought this by for you.”
He tries to wave at you but you whip around when you hear Pearson speak, avoiding meeting his eye. Hosea leans in and whispers something to you, but you just shake your head. His eyes narrow at the two of you, wondering when you got so cozy.
“Who was it?” Arthur asks.
“I don’t know,” Pearson grouses, walking off with a shrug. Arthur flips the paper over and sighs. He didn’t even need to ask. He knows this handwriting about as well as he knows his own. Mary.
He’s not sure he even wants to read this. There’s the chance that he’ll either have to deal with her father again or he’ll just feel the guilt of what she thinks could have been. Sighing, he turns away from you and Hosea. He flips the letter open, skimming it. He’s not ready to dive so deep into the past this morning but it could be urgent.
Most of it is pretty vague. Brief mentions of her father devolving past the fool he already was and something about her brother needing help. She asks him to meet her in Valentine and he tucks the letter in his satchel. He doubts anything good would come of going to see her.
Half the time they just have these quiet sort of non-arguments about how he can’t change and how she never gave him the chance to. They keep going back to each other and keep pretending they're different people than they actually are. She has it in her head that he would never abandon this outlaw life for her. And he thinks that she would never be able to truly accept him as he is.
They go round and around each other endlessly. Never quite meeting in the middle. These occasional meet-ups have just started to feel like a punishment for himself. But there’s a part of him that always feels the need to hear her out, to see her one last time. He hates that part of himself sometimes.
He turns to head towards the horses when an eager voice stops him. “Oh, Mr. Morgan!” Strauss stands up from his stool, walking over to Arthur with a large black book in his hand. “Just the man I was looking for.” There’s something in his tone that makes Arthur bristle. He has a feeling whatever he’s about to ask for is going to be something he doesn’t like.
“What?” Arthur’s short with him, never having been a huge fan of the man. He hates that he’s the one Strauss comes to for collections. He understands the necessity of the money for camp. But half the time the people are just desperate families trying to keep a roof over their heads. If Strauss targeted the rich, maybe he wouldn’t mind roughing the debtors up so much.
“I just need a favor from you. I’ve got some collections that need to be taken. A few reminders to be sent,” he laughs a little. The noise is empty and grates on Arthur’s already frayed nerves.
“We’ve barely been here a week. You’re tellin’ me you’ve already got lives to ruin?”
Strauss's eyes narrow into slits before he forces on another thin smile. “Mr. Morgan, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the loss our camp funds suffered in Blackwater. We need everything we can get. Surely you understand this is for the good of the camp, yes?”
Arthur lets out a rough sigh. He looks down at the list of people in Strauss’s hand. He knows that he’s always going to choose the gang over anyone else. But it doesn’t make this feel any better. “Fine,” he snaps, snatching the paper from him.
“Thank you, Mr. Morgan.” Arthur shakes his head, ignoring the smug lilt of Strauss’s accent. He shakes his head and turns away, walking towards the horses.
“-well, Uncle ruined my only other good dress. I’ll need to buy some new ones,” Arthur looks over as you speak to Hosea. You motion sadly to a large brown stain on the front of your dress and he rolls his eyes, thinking of Unlcle spilling something on you. Maybe he could pick something up for you while he’s in town. You’ve got hardly anything to your name, you could at least use a new pair of boots.
He’s nearly to his horse when Hosea calls him over. Is he going to get anything done today, or does everyone need something for him?
He lets out an irritated sigh and walks back over. You don’t look up at him and that only further sours his mood. “What are you doing?” Hosea asks, the suspicious expression on his face only makes Arthur’s hackles raise further.
“Was gonna head to Valentine but Strauss has got me doin’ collections.” Your eyes lift at the mention of collections and he doesn’t miss the slight grimace that passes across your face before you’re looking away again.
Something hot boils in the pit of his stomach but he shoves it down, trying to ignore it. Hosea shakes his head, waving him off. “No, I need you to escort Mrs. Rowe to Valentine. Micah will handle the collections,” he tells him firmly, not leaving much room for argument.
“But-”
Hosea cuts him off with a frown, “No ‘buts,’ the lady needs some new clothes, Arthur. You can’t let her go into town without a proper escort. Imagine what could happen.”
Your face drops at that. You roll your eyes with a scoff, “I most certainly do not need-”
You trail off, sentence falling short as Hosea shoots you a sharp look. You throw the rest of your coffee into the fire and get to your feet. “Right, well I clearly don’t get much of a say in this.”
“Neither of you do,” Hosea responds. He’s got a look that means he’s far too pleased with himself. Arthur glances over at you, feeling a little guilty at the perturbed expression you wear. He doesn’t blame you for not wanting to spend time with him. He knows he could have been kinder to you last night, but all he’d been thinking about was stopping another situation like Mary from happening.
“Come on Mr. Morgan,” you call out, walking past him and heading towards the horses.
Arthur lingers behind for a moment, shooting Hosea a glare. “I’m gettin’ tired of your games, old man,” Arthur grouses before reluctantly following after you. Hosea just laughs, taking a long, pleased, sip of his coffee.
Arthur turns around and heads towards the hitching posts. You’re already waiting there for him, arms crossed while you examine the horse. “Somethin’ wrong?” You jump slightly, turning around to face Arthur as he walks up.
Your lips purse and he can tell you’re debating whether or not you want to speak with him. Arthur stops walking, standing just a little ways back and giving you no other choice but to talk. Rolling your eyes, you force the words out. “Your horse is too damn tall.”
Arthur glances between you and the shire, laughing a little under his breath. “Alright, come on.” He comes up in front of you, hovering his hands over your waist until you give him a reluctant little nod. He takes you by the waist and lifts you onto the back of the horse. His hands drift down to your knees, squeezing once before he forces himself to back off. “Comfortable?”
You glare down at him, but he can see a little bit of sheepishness in the look you give him. “Fine as I’ll ever be, sitting like this.”
He swings up on the saddle and glances back at you. “We’ll see if we can’t get you a horse while we’re in town.” Your face lights up at that and it unravels a bit of the knot in his chest.
“I think I’d like that,” you tell him, turning slightly to wrap your arms around his waist. He does his best to ignore the warmth you provide. But all he can focus on is how soft you feel against him compared to the harshness he deals with every day. He doesn’t say anything else, leading his horse out of camp and heading to town. He doesn’t know what he’s more stressed about, seeing Mary or having you see her.
He lets out a rough sigh and shakes his head. Women, they’re not worth the damn trouble.
The ride into Valentine isn’t too slow, but you know Arthur isn’t going as fast as he wants so that you feel more comfortable on the back of the horse. You’re still getting used to the finicky beasts, not quite having bonded with them like the others in camp. Still, you’d rather swallow your pride and get one of your own than have to keep riding side-saddle like this.
Sitting on the back of the horse is damn near impossible to get comfortable on. And you know the animals don’t like it any more than you do. You think it’s only making them dislike you more. You adjust yourself again and hear Arthur sigh in front of you. His chest heaves under your grip and you realize just how tight you’ve been squeezing him this whole time.
“Sorry,” you mutter, undoing your arms and stretching them out. You’re surprised the poor man can still breathe.
“It’s fine,” he responds, but you can hear the strain in his voice as he finally sucks in a full breath. You grimace, wondering how you’re gonna handle your own horse if you can barely deal with this one. Arthur’s is the least temperamental of the bunch at camp and you still can’t bring yourself to trust it.
Arthur passes by the train station and you straighten up, a little bit of relief forming when you realize how close you are to finally being able to walk around on your own two feet. Arthur brings the horse to a slower pace, pulling on the reins as townspeople begin to walk by more frequently.
You’re not sure what you were expecting of the town. It’s certainly not glamorous. But it’s not as backwoods as you had been expecting. The people seem friendly enough, at least to you. They’ll nod their heads with a polite, “Ma’am,” but they don’t seem very warmed to Arthur.
“You already been through here?” You ask, a little bit of a tease lingering on the edge of your words.
Arthur stiffens under your grip, tilting his head back towards you before looking forward. “Whaddya mean?”
“I don’t know,” you hum, “these people seem a little wary of you, that’s all.”
Arthur lets out a heavy sigh, “Not my fault,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. “He called me a pretty boy, what was I supposed to do?” You barely catch the words before he brings the horse to a stop and gets down.
“Pretty boy?” You question, a grin curling at the edge of your lips. His eyes narrow and he shakes his head.
“Forget it,” he demands. He holds his hand out towards you and you hesitate. You could just jump down, you'll probably roll your ankle, but you could do it. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like how wholly Arthur’s hand envelops yours, even if he’s made it clear he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.
You slide your hand into his and he brings his other one up to your waist. He eases you down onto the ground but your boot slips into a bit of mud. You tilt forward, off-kilter, and catch yourself against his chest.
Your eyes widen when you feel the bulk lurking underneath his tattered shirt. You clear your throat, backing up quickly and straightening out your skirt. Even after a few weeks, you’re still not used to touching another man who’s not your husband. Especially not so brazenly.
Arthur laughs at your behavior but you see the nervous way he rubs the back of his neck. He ducks his head down, hat blocking his pretty eyes. You know that you have an effect on him. In the same way, a simple touch from him sends heat racing through you, you can see it happen to him.
You’re not some lovesick fool who’s blinded by your desire. You may be naive when it comes to relationships, but you know want in a man’s eyes when you see it. If only he weren’t so damn stubborn.
“I’ve got some business to deal with in town,” your face falls as he speaks. You’d almost forgotten about the letter Pearson had brought to him. The one that a woman had dropped off. You hope it’s his aunt or some withered old lady who just needs an outlaw’s help. As unlikely as that is, you still pray for it.
He reaches into his saddle bag and your eyes double in size as he holds out a holstered revolver. You stare at it, eyes darting between him and the gun. “You know how to shoot don’t ya?”
You scoff in indignation. “I’ve spent my entire adult life in the mountains. Of course, I know how to shoot. But why would I need to?”
He looks amused by your attitude and it only makes you narrow your eyes at him in irritation. “Just take it, would you? You’re traveling with a gang of outlaws, it’s not smart to go around without anythin’ to protect yourself with.” He nudges the gun towards you once more and you snatch it from him.
You bring it to your side, attaching it to your belt as you chew on his words. You hadn’t thought of that before, mainly because you haven’t left the camp since you made it out of the mountains. But you’re so used to being seen as a lady that you forget you’re now just as much of a criminal as the rest of them. If only by association.
“Fine,” you relent.
“Here,” he reaches into his satchel and tugs out a few bills. “Take this, for the dresses or whatever it was ya needed.”
You stare down at the money and shake your head, “Oh, no, Arthur, I couldn't.” He’s already done so much for you and the camp. You don’t feel comfortable taking from him further. But he won’t let it go, he takes your wrist and forces your palm open, placing the money in your hand.
“You’re not gonna steal the clothes are ya?”
“No, but-”
“‘Nough fussin’, just take it would ya, woman?” You tuck the money in your waistband and glare at him. He’s being awful pushy this morning.
He grabs the horn of the saddle, pulling himself back up and glancing down at you. “How long am I gonna be expected to look after myself?”
“Only about an hour, I’ll be back soon enough.”
“You better,” you chide. He only chuckles, tilting his hat towards you before riding off past the shops and towards the houses behind the town. You let out a heavy sigh, fiddling with the money and looking around town. You don’t imagine you’ll find much here, but you figure the general store is probably a good place to start.
It isn’t until you’ve bought yourself a few new outfits that you realize just how much money Arthur has given you. You could probably buy two horses with all this. You’re sure Dutch would be irate if he learned Arthur funded your shopping trip and not the camp lockbox.
You walk out of the general store with your box of goodies tucked under your arm. You hide the rest of your money away in the top of your corset like you’ve seen Karen do before. You look around the shops, trying to spot Arthur’s giant shire hitched somewhere. When you don’t see the horse you frown, deciding to do a quick lap around to see if he’s somewhere else.
It turns out to be fruitless, despite promising to be back within an hour, you can’t find him anywhere. You figure that his “business” just ran on longer than he thought it would and try and think of a way to pass the time. You debate going to the stables and getting your own horse but it seems rude to just spend his money so cavalierly.
Besides, you figure you should get his opinion before you commit to one of the erratic creatures. He seems to speak their language. You figure he could help you find one that won’t send you flying if it gets spooked.
With no other way to pass the time, you take a seat on the bench outside the general store. You pick up a discarded newspaper and figure you’ll just wait for him here. Of course, you only make it about three sentences into a report on a train robbery before you toss the paper to the side.
You’ve never been very good at waiting. Living the life of a proper lady has left you spoiled and you’re starting to get antsy. Jumping up from the bench you walk around the back of the shop towards the houses Arthur had ridden towards.
There’s a brief moment of intelligence where you think about the consequences of bugging him. He is an outlaw and for all the manners and grace he’s shown you, you’ve seen the bounty. You know he’s a known criminal and a murderer. Who's to say he won’t get upset at you for interrupting and just shoot you?
Still, the thought of him getting so mad he starts firing off rounds makes you laugh more than it makes you scared. You just can’t picture Arthur in that way.
It isn’t hard to figure out which house he went to. All you have to look for is the giant black horse grazing in the grass outside. You pick up your pace when you see Diablo roaming in front of a particularly nice house. It’s probably the biggest one around and the most well-kept. You wonder who he could be meeting out here, in Valentine being “rich” doesn’t mean much.
You notice the front door of the home opening, but you know they can’t see you past the large tree in front of you. You see Arthur first, the brim of his hat, and then his boot as he walks out the door. He turns around, talking to whoever’s inside and shaking his head vehemently.
You take another step towards them but your foot hovers in the air as the person he’s talking to follows after him. So much for a withered old lady. You feel your stomach drop as the beautiful woman he’s talking to reaches forward and takes his hands in hers. You can’t hear them speaking, but you can see the familiarity in the way they dance around each other.
She’s got a pleading look on her face and he’s got the expression of a man about to give into whatever she asks of him. You turn around as quick as you can, marching yourself right back to town. You never should have even gone looking for him. One hour or two, you should have just kept your happy ass where it was. At least then you wouldn’t be dealing with the racing thoughts going through your head.
You had a suspicion that there was once a woman in his life. In fact, it would be odd for there not to be. He’s traveled for so long and he’s so different than other men you met that it wouldn’t make sense for him to have not caught the eye of a pretty woman. But you hadn’t expected her. She seemed so much like…
You.
She reminded you of yourself before your husband had abandoned you and you started traveling with the gang. Hair done up prim and proper, clothes tailored perfectly to her body. Even the way she carried herself was straight out of the proper lady training book. She most certainly came from money.
You just didn’t know how Arthur knew her. Or what their relationship was. It certainly wasn’t familial. You knew that much from the longing in her eyes. Oh, this was just awful. Arthur didn’t reject you because he thought he wasn’t good enough for you. He just didn’t want you. He had a woman of his own, of course he did. You feel like such a fool, getting your hopes up over something that could never happen.
You trudge back into town, heading straight for the saloon. You’ve never had the stomach for alcohol, but you’re sure you can make an exception tonight. Just to ease the blade of hurt wedging itself in your chest.
You toss your box of clothes on the counter of the bar and the barkeep gives you a startled look. His eyes narrow before he slides a glass over to you. “Looks like you need a whiskey.”
“Make it a double,” you slip him a few more bills than necessary and he whistles. Instead of pouring he just places the bottle in front of you. He leaves you on your lonely end of the counter and scrubs up a drunken spill.
You use a heavy hand to pour and bring the glass to your lips, ticking your head back and downing as much as you can. The acrid, bog-like taste doesn’t comfort you. But it does make your tongue feel fuzzy and begin to soften the harsh edges of your mind. About a bottle later, you can barely remember Arthur’s name, much less why you’re drinking.
You’re debating entering a very risky poker game when you see it. Just out of the corner of your eye, a man goes stumbling up the stairs with a whore. It’s not out of the usual, it’s been happening the whole time you’ve been here. But there’s something familiar to you about the back of his head.
Stumbling to your feet, you rub at your eyes and blink a few times. You squint, trying to make out how you know this man when he finally turns slightly. Like a bucket of cold water being tossed over you, the whiskey seems to leave you for a moment.
Your husband’s glazed eyes pass over you and he laughs at a drunk man falling face-first to the floor. Your heart pounds so harshly against the cage of your chest you can hear nothing else but your blood rushing. He stumbles the rest of the way up the stairs and you stand there, completely dumbfounded and confused.
Your husband isn’t just alive. He’s here and he’s about to go fuck a whore like he didn’t leave you for dead.
The Epic musical by Jorge Rivera-Harrans Inspired this one shot through and through.
Part two will be worked on soon.
🤭🤭
Anyways heres 11 pages written in one night instead of me SLEEPING.
Warnings- Violence and Injury, Implied Cannibalism / Siren Lore, Child Abandonment/Kidnapping, Death / Loss, Mild Body Horror,
good side- It has a happy ending.
18+ ONLY! All my works are for mature 18+ Audiences, Minors and ageless accounts will be blocked!
Your mother was a siren, your father? A poor sailor lured down to his watery grave, presumed to be human.
When you were born, hatched out and new, your mother and other sirens were in disarray.
You looked nothing like them.
You had no water elements to your small little form, and while you had wings, yes, all were covered in glowing white and golden feathers, six stretched out and yet wrapping around yourself to keep you warm.
Your mother, however, loved you and tended to you, her strange little hatchling. She watched as you grew, forced on land or the perches above the waters, since you could not swim no matter how hard she and the pod had tried to teach you.
When you were of a woman's age, she and the pod had welcomed you to sing with them, and while you had an enchanting voice, your voice could not lure men down, nor did men's flesh ever satisfy you. Instead it made you ill.
You had wept to your mother, a sound no parent of any creature would love to hear. She held you close, her scaled hands moving through your glowing hair as you wept into her arms.
Different. That was what you were, different from your mother's blood.
“I do not want to lure men,” you wept into her arms as you looked up at her with a broken heart. Your mother could only sadly smile at you.
“You were not meant to be part of this pod.” Her soft words made your heart flutter in pain as you looked at her with watery eyes.
Her hand moved through your hair before cupping your cheeks.
“You must fly, follow the current patterns and find land. Fly east. Stay safe and away from others, and should you ever be caught by man, deny being part of my own. Tell them that you have not a clue of what you are, but good fortune follows you if you remain unharmed. Man will fall for this little lie, and you will be safe, my child.”
You listened to your mother, nodding before hugging her in a warm embrace one last time before your wings stretched out and lifted you away. You flew for so long, following the eastern currents, landing only to find food or to rest and hide from the harsh storms that would plague the sea.
You flew on as clouds of mist started to fill the air, thick like a curtain, making it hard for you to see, but you felt a flutter in your heart and a rush of strength filling your tired wings, and thus you trusted them and your heart to guide you through the mist.
Your eyes closed entirely as you flew, feeling your body move and sway as your wings so strongly and carefully guided you on your heart's path.
The mist tickling your bare skin and brushing through your hair and feathers until a gush of warmth rushed through your body, letting you gasp as your eyes opened and blinked.
Vast glorious lands lay below you, lush and rich with forests and meadows.
Land of man.
You had seen such things before, but nothing was as lovely as this place. Your eyes took in the land in wide surprise as everything seemed to glow and gleam and sparkle.
You flew over a field, seeing small beings move around it, thinking it was farmers.
Yet, as you risked the sight of yourself, you flew lower to see what the crowd of men was doing.
Your brows furrowed as you saw humans line strange things in a row and one walked forward, holding up another strange thing in his hand, making the crowd cheer.
You tilted your head, lowering even more, trying to keep hidden, but your curious nature was dying to be sated.
The single man moved forward, seeming to pull back on some cord tied to the strange curving thing.
You watched as he seemed to focus, your wings holding you in the air, and you felt a nervous feeling curl in your stomach as you watched the man's hand let go.
Something fired clean through the line of twelve strange things, and a shrill left you as pain jabbed through one of your wings.
You felt your body hurtling down as you frantically tried to stay in the air, the world rushing and swirling around you as you crashed from the sky, crashing through branches and vines.
Cries left you until you stopped, vines entangled around you like snakes, making you freak out and scream, trying to get free from them.
Another let out a breath he was holding, eyes narrowing as he heard screams. He had thought the thing that was watching would have sensed that he noticed it, as he shifted to make sure his arrow would curve after leaving the last axe's head to strike it down.
Adam moved quickly into the forest, a few of his army girls following to spread out and find whatever it was he perceived as a threat.
Yet he found a clearing where the sun's light shined through the trees on an entangled form crying. He had made the calling sound for the others to find him as he made it down to the clearing, his golden eyes narrowed at the form.
You had gone silent as you heard sticks crunching, fear surging through your heart as your wings fluttered to get you away. You let out a pitiful noise as your ensnared form turned slowly, and you could see through your wings' feathers the one who was approaching. Your (e/c) eyes landed on a man who seemed to gleam of gold, his eyes nothing but bright golden coins.
He was beautiful, and yet he terrified you deeply, as man was unpredictable and could be deadly.
“Spare me, spare me, please.” You softly wept as silent tears ran down your face, trying to shrink into your wings for safety.
You could see one of his brows raise as he neared, something sharp in his hand making fear course through you.
A man's blade.
“What are you? A demon? A siren?” the man's voice questioned as he neared, moving the blade to a vine, making a small terrified shrill leave you.
“No!” you cried out, frantically trying to escape the vines again. A choked sob left you.
“I know not of what I am. Please! Please don't hurt me!”
You squealed as you heard the swiping of metal, yet instead of the pain of a deep gash, you only felt the pain of your backside landing onto semi-soft moss.
You immediately scrambled backward, two wings moving to curl around your bare body to cover yourself from the man's eyes. The others tried to fly, but pain surged through you as one was struck with an arrow, and others broken, snapped from the fall.
The man's eyes followed you, making you nervous as he moved toward you, outreaching a hand that made you flinch. You were scared he would strike you, only to feel gentle hands moving your arrow-embedded wing open. You opened your eyes to look at him as he moved the blade he held to cut away the arrowhead, and his hands moved quickly to yank out the arrow's pole, making you let out a small whine.
His hands then examined your broken wings before he moved, grabbing vines and broken branches, cleaning them from their shrubs with his blade, and working on putting them against your wing, snapping them back into place and working vines through your feathers to tie, splinting them.
“Do you bring harm?” the man questioned you as you watched him in surprise before shaking your head.
“No, I bring no harm, only good fortune,” you said softly, watching how his golden eyes flicked to you, brows furrowed.
“Good fortune, hm?” he asked, questioning your words, and you nodded, repeating your mother's very words.
“I bring good fortune if no harm is brought to me.” You claimed, and the man made a noise, looking at your wings.
“So you will bring bad fortune, for it was my arrow that struck you down,” the man admitted, being the one who caused your pain, and yet you did not want to bring him anything of the sort, so you shook your head.
“You thought I was danger. How can I blame you for such a thing…” you justified his actions, his attack on you.
The man hummed before moving away from you a moment, his hands working on unbuttoning the fabric around his body, exposing his chest to you before wrapping it around you, and moving, hooking an arm under your legs and the other around your back.
Your arms flew around his neck the moment he effortlessly moved you off the ground. The man was tall, from how far the ground looked as he held you in his arms, well cushioned but as he started to move, you could feel muscles ripple from under the protective lining of his flesh. The land's spoils must be very well if such a giant was able to feast so well. You wondered if he was fully human at all as he carried you from the clearing.
“I will atone for the harm I brought you.” His words came as a promise, making you look at him in surprise.
“You will be an honored guest in my kingdom and in my home, and once you are healed, if you wish to leave, I will make sure you have plenty for your travels.”
Warmth spread through you at his kind words, taking accountability and yet offering you hospitality. You never thought man could be so generous.
“I am called Y/n,” you softly spoke, enlightening him of your name as you eagerly waited for him to do the same.
“Adam.” He simply responded, watching how his simplicity had made you nearly wither away in his arms in disappointment.
“King of Eden, Adam.” He added, watching how you softly perked up more as he exited the forest, joined by his guards who met him at the tree lines. Your eyes swept over them, all adorned in armor, and the more you looked, the more you were taken in wonder.
Women.
The king's guards were women.
Adam carried you from the meadows into a lovely city, where many went about their day, men, women, and children filling the streets with laughter and joy.
All, once seeing Adam, would greet their King generously before curious eyes landed on your form, then moved away, allowing space for the King and his guards to pass freely.
The city was beautiful, adorned with golden accents and gleaming trees bearing various fruits.
Adam continued to carry you as you focused on the sights, until you reached a lovely palace of stone, all accented with treasures, you were sure. Your breath was taken away by the man-made structure, all intricately designed and built, carved from marble and stone to form breathtaking statues.
“This place is beautiful,” you softly breathed out, and you felt the man chuckle, his fingers softly tapping the plushness of your thigh's skin absentmindedly.
You looked at Adam to see him stare at the palace with great pride before glancing down into your eyes.
“It took me many years to build,” he softly informed you before entering the palace, maidens moving to greet him and you. Adam carefully set you down.
“Take her and bathe her, then have her fed. Her every need is to be met, as she is my welcomed guest,” he ordered them before moving on, separating from you entirely.
You were unsure as the maidens took you deeper into the place, into a lovely room now destined to be yours, and then to a bathing area where fire-heated water was poured into a great stone pool, and you were softly guided to sit in it.
The maidens removed the fabric that covered you, taking in the wings that curled as close to you as possible. None of their hands brought you harm, though you gasped and squeaked at them bathing you.
Each maiden idly chatted as her fingers lathered soaps and sweet-smelling oils into your skin, your hair, and your feathers.
You began to melt into their gentle massaging hands and the warm, toasty water.
After your bath, the maidens' hands were in your hair, twisting it into designs and pinning it up so it did not fall, guiding you from the wash area back to your main room where a live, warm fire crackled. They pulled soft silken fabrics over your bare body.
They wanted to put more layers on you, but you refused, afraid so many would suffocate you, despite their assurances. They fed you whatever your mind was set on, and the bed was gloriously soft and warm.
You were allowed to move freely as you liked, and healers worked tirelessly on making sure your wings would heal correctly. They also scribbled away in their endless inks and papers about your form.
You wondered why, but such thoughts would escape you as you took long walks around the palace.
You had hoped to run into Adam once more, the King who had welcomed you into his home, yet you had not seen him in days. You tried not to be rude and sulk in his home, so you spent your days roaming the halls, looking at the art that lay around.
One bright and sunny day, you heard small weeping through the halls and followed it out to a lovely courtyard where a large, glorious tree grew strong, as though prideful in its reign over the yard. Bright, glowing crystal apples grew on its branches and dazzled in the sunlight, making you stare at it in enchantment as you neared. You were momentarily distracted in your sudden quest, wanting to reach out and pluck one of the crystal apples.
But sniffles caught your ear, and you turned your head to follow them, peering over a large root to see a small frame curled into his knees. A small boy was crying as quietly as he could into them, and you moved around the root slowly.
“Hello.” You spoke softly, watching the boy jump. His head lifted from his knees, and you were surprised to see slitted eyes snapping up to you.
The small child had tanned skin that glowed gold like the King's, but it had more sheen than any other human you had seen. His slitted eyes were two colors, yellow and red, and they watched you carefully as you stayed where you stood.
His cheeks had intricate patches of red on them, glistening like scales. Dark brown, nearly black, fluffy hair fell around his face like dark clouds.
Snake.
Your inner voice screamed in panic as your wings momentarily tensed with the need to flee, but you watched as the boy sniffled and moved a hand to wipe away the tears as he looked at you.
“H-Hello.” His small voice wavered, and you could not help but immediately move closer, getting onto your knees as you carefully held out a hand to him.
“Are you alright, my child?” you asked him, your eyes moving over him again in search of any source of pain. As you held out your hand, the boy's eyes widened, and he shrank back for only a second before rushing past it, his small frame clinging to you with fresh sniffles.
You paused, unsure at first, then brought your hand to the back of his head, softly twirling your fingers into his locks and offering quiet words of comfort, the way your mother once comforted you.
“I'm Y/n.” You softly told the small boy your name, and he pulled away, his little face sniffling away tears.
“I'm Cain,” he said softly, still clinging to your fabric. “Eldest prince of Eden.”
You nodded, taking in the small child's name.
“Well, young Cain, why do you weep so?” you asked him softly, wanting to know how you could ease his troubles. You watched as more tears dripped down his face, his little brows furrowing as if his own thoughts upset him again.
It was not long until you heard the pitter-patter of other little feet, and you turned your head to see an even smaller boy round the roots.
His hair was golden, matching his eyes, and his skin was pale, barely kissed by the sun. The new child’s eyes landed on Cain, and he made noises, moving toward the eldest prince, who moved away, using one of your wings to hide.
“Go away, Abel!” the first boy hissed with sniffles, making the newest boy pause, tears bursting in his eyes, and weeping sounds came from him.
“Ain! Ain!” the smallest wept, trying to reach the other.
You took in the chaos of the two before carefully comforting the newest weeping child, who also threw himself into your arms. You moved your wing to wrap around Cain and pull him back to your arms, where you held both boys.
“Goodness, what is going on?” you softly exclaimed as you stared at the young boys in your arms, one trying to get away and the other clinging to the older.
“I'm mad at him!” Cain wailed, struggling to escape Abel's small arms as Abel whined, clinging to him.
“Ain, no go!” Abel wailed, and you moved to hold them both securely.
“Why?” you asked, trying to figure out what such small children could have done to upset each other, and it seemed Cain had given up on fighting, huffing through tears.
“He called me pretty!” the older boy exclaimed, making him all huffy and teary-eyed, which stunned you for a moment.
“I am not pretty! I'm not a girl!” Cain wailed.
“Ah…” you muttered, dumbfounded, staring at the two boys. You tried to gather yourself.
“Men can be pretty,” you said softly, making both boys look at you. Cain, surprised. Abel, curious. “Just like women can be pretty. Though I suppose men's pretty is deemed handsome. Perhaps that is what Abel was trying to say?” you offered, looking down at the two small children in your arms.
Cain's little face shifted into a thoughtful expression before looking at the other boy in your arms.
“Is that true?” he asked the toddler, and Abel giggled, nodding.
“Ain! Andsome!” the smaller tried speaking, and it made you smile as you watched Cain's face break into a wide grin before moving to hug the other.
“I think you are handsome too, brother!” the boy said, and you took note as you looked at the two.
The princes of Eden.
Since that day, the two boys always seemed able to find you, insisting on following you and spending time with you as you roamed the palace. You did not mind, enjoying their small chatter and eager footsteps, getting lured into their tiny human games, unaware of the golden eyes watching you in the distance with another pair of silver ones not too far behind.
The courtyard with the enchanting apple tree was where the three of you spent most of your time. You would sit by the roots and watch the two play, sometimes they would get you to play with them, but otherwise, they seemed satisfied with you simply watching.
This day was different as someone else entered the courtyard. Both boys' faces lit up with glee as they ran toward the man's shadow, both clinging to one of his legs with hugs.
“Father!” young Cain shouted in delight.
“Ather!” little Abel squealed as well.
Your gaze shifted from them to the man who had carried you to the palace so many days ago, taking in his tanned, golden skin, his bright golden coin eyes, and how his fluffy dark hair shone in the sunlight.
The boys shared so many of his features, even little Cain with his many snake-like differences.
Adam greeted his boys warmly, his hands ruffling their hair, then urged them back to play as he found a place near you among the apple tree's roots, leaning back to watch them play.
“They seem to have taken a liking to you,” Adam commented, and you spared him a glance while watching the two go back to their chatter, a smile forming on your face.
“They are great company in the lonely days I found myself,” you answered the King as you turned to face him, your expression shifting to concern. “I have not kept them away from their mother?” you asked, wondering how the boys could be gone for so long without upsetting her.
You watched Adam's face shift before he shook his head, keeping his eyes on the boys. “They have no mother,” he said firmly, making you feel guilt for asking.
“My apologies—”
“Even if they did, only one would have a mother, and the other would have only me,” Adam continued, his eyes never leaving the boys. You moved a hand to his arm in comfort.
Adam looked at you, his gaze flicking to your hand, then back to your face, as though pondering something before he spoke again.
“My first wife and I were lured into a naga's den where we were both put under a trance. When we finally broke free, we returned to our kingdom, thinking we had escaped. She fell pregnant afterward. I assured her I would love the child as my own, no matter its birthright, and that I would protect them, seeing how she wept those days.” Adam spoke softly, still watching Cain. “On the day she gave birth, I was away on a hunt. When I returned, the maidens told me I was a father of a daughter, and that my wife was exhausted. I rushed to them, to my wife, my daughter, despite the maidens trying to stop me, to warn me of the newborn's appearance. Yet when I entered our chambers, my wife was nowhere, and the balcony was open. All I found in the room was the crying from our bed, where I found him, Cain, messily wrapped in blankets for me to find. The snake had come back to take my wife and her child and abandon our son.”
Your heart ached for the King and the eldest son as you brought a hand to your own watering eyes to wipe away tears.
“No search could find my wife or daughter, so I swore I would protect my boy with my life,” Adam said sharply, looking at you, his gaze firm yet softened by your presence.
“I swore that if the other child, the daughter who was supposed to be mine, ever made her way back to the kingdom, she would have a home here with her brothers.”
“You are most warmhearted, Adam,” you said softly, moving your hand to your eyes again as you looked at the boys who still played, not a care between them. You could not help but wonder what Cain's sister would be like if she too were here in the courtyard. You imagined Cain as a young girl, and the image seemed so fitting in your mind. Without once laying eyes on the missing child, you would never know for sure.
You turned your gaze toward Abel, then looked back at Adam, noticing guilt forming on his face as he looked away.
“Abel's mother was my second wife,” he said quietly. “I needed help raising Cain, and so I found a soft, loving woman to raise him. Seeing how she cared for him made me fall in love with her as well.”
Adam took a breath and sighed. “Cain was taking his first steps when she told me she was carrying Abel. I was overjoyed and spoiled her with lavish gifts and rare foods. I gave her everything she wanted, except…” He leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree, his golden eyes staring at the crystal apples with a look of hatred for them, making you nervously look up at them as well, the enchanting glow now no longer so wonderful.
“The fruit of this very tree,” Adam said, his voice growing dark. “Everyone who bites from one of these apples loses themselves. A plague of darkness consumes them, a rage driving them to do terrible things. My refusal to allow her to taste one made her obsession grow. One night she slipped from our bed, and by the time I realized she was gone and got here, she had already taken a bite.”
Adam's face twisted in a grimace as he looked away from the fruit, glaring at his shaking hands as if the memory was too much.
You, too, moved your eyes off the apples, unsettled by their glow, and shifted your focus to the boys playing. A small smile appeared at their carefree laughter, then you placed your hand over Adam's trembling one. He glanced at you, then slowly wrapped his fingers around yours, needing to finish his story.
“I saw part of the apple fall to the ground, a wicked smile on her face nearly splitting it in two, and a blade that had left her stomach. Abel was no longer safe in her womb, falling to the tree's roots as she morphed into the darkness and vanished from sight. I fought sleepless nights to keep my second son alive and push her memory from my mind.” He told you in a voice weighed down by years of sorrow, feeling compelled to share this after watching how you cared for his boys.
“I vowed I would not take another wife of my own choosing,” Adam told you, and you nodded in understanding.
“I do not think one would find fault in such a thing,” you spoke softly as you looked back at his sons. “Your sons should be your utmost priority.”
He found himself smiling at your words, warmth spreading through his chest. He did not tell you that, soon after your arrival, your words had proven true: you brought good fortune. In only two days, the farmers' harvest had grown plentiful overnight, stored beers and wines had finished brewing in mere days rather than months, and the forests were full of game ready for the hunt. More importantly, his sons seemed finally at ease. Cain was calmer, and Abel no longer provoked him. The bickering that once ruled the palace had turned into laughter and affection.
Adam let his gaze settle on your wings, which were no longer splinted but still wrapped for support. You would be free to leave once healed, and he had promised you supplies if you did.
But he wished to be selfish.
You had been good for his kingdom, wonderful for his boys, and Adam could not pretend he himself had not felt a new peace since he carried you from that forest. Now, sitting at your side, he felt serenity easing his tired bones, a kind of relaxation he had not felt in so long.
“I told myself that I would let my boys decide who would be their new mother, the one who might become my wife,” Adam said softly enough that you turned to him with wide eyes, seeing a tender look in his golden gaze. “It seems they have chosen you.”
Your heart raced, and your wings fluttered at such a warm, promising declaration. You felt your face grow hot at the King of Eden's words, warmth filling your being as you considered being the one to care for his children. To be at Adam's side.
The idea of being mother to Cain and Abel, who found solace in you, made your heart skip. To be the King's wife, building a promising future for yourself in Adam's arms, was more than you ever thought possible.
“But I cannot commit to another unless I know they can fully accept my boys as entirely theirs, knowing all there is to know of them, of me,” Adam spoke again, his soft voice turning firm as he set down the final lines. He seemed prepared for you to demand your freedom and leave.
Instead, you moved your fingers against his, intertwining them in his hold as you gave him a warm smile, then turned to look at the boys who would soon be yours as well.
“I did not believe such a thing possible for someone like me,” you whispered, then looked at Adam longingly, wishing to be someone he could trust and love. “But I cannot say yes unless their father knows of my origins too, for I know how it feels to be born different.”
You told the King everything, of your journey flying across so many lands until you reached his home, about the pod and mother who raised you, and the hardships of living among sirens when you were so unlike them.
When you finished, you stared at Adam, expecting him to turn cruel, as men could do, and cast you out, telling his guards to run you through. You trembled, afraid that your honesty would be your end.
You flinched when you felt him remove his hand from yours, your wings tensing, ready to flee at the first sign of danger, only to gasp as his hand found your face, his warm lips pressing softly against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the warmth.
Adam pulled away, smiling as he gazed at you.
“I do not allow others to call and curse my son a naga,” he said protectively, his gaze running over your frame and wings with the same fierce devotion. “And I will not let anyone call and curse my wife a siren,” he promised, making your heart glow.
Seraphim.
Adam told his kingdom that you were a Seraphim sent by the gods to bless the lands of Eden, to bless its people and their King and princes. You would be his sons’ holy and divine mother, raising them to be future Kings of the land, and you would sit upon the throne at Adam's side as his Queen.
_____
All my Adam One- Shots can be found on A03 titled as "Adam-Shots"
Hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!
-Queen
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