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annaphoenix1994 · 2 years

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Epilogue Part 2 - Jim Milton Rides Again

The next evening was rather warm for John's liking as he proceeded with his late chores, distributing flakes of alfalfa hay to the horses and restocking the straw for the nesting boxes in the chicken coop before an authoritative voice disturbed his morning silence. "Mister Milton! I'd like to have a word with you!"

"Mister Geddes?" John greeted, approaching the owner and his wife standing at the barn.

"Hey, I heard we had another incident with the Laramie boys?" He questioned.

John nodded, "Yeah, there was an incident..."

"Well, they mean to scare me."

"And are you scared?"

"A little. I-I've got a lot invested into this place and not just the land, but my family! It's uh, it's hard to explain."

"I understand. I'll do my best to keep you safe, sir."

"I know you will. So, how's your family?"

"Just fine. I should probably head back. I've been out with chores all mornin' and left before they woke up." He chuckled.

"Yeah, I know how it is. See you around, Mister Milton."

"How'd you get on?" Abigail asked, wiping her hands on her apron, watching John enter the cabin, his growing beard hiding the scars on his face.

"Okay, I guess."

"Better?"

"Sure. I'm just tired."

"I know," She grumbled, not even looking as if she believed him. "Sit down and have some lunch." She directed, setting a plate of food in front of John, seeing the grimace on his face as he wasn't much of a fan of her cooking, but he knew it was either eat what she made or starve.

The family ate in silence. Jack was lost in reading a new book, John ate slowly, staring at his supply of food on the table, and Abigail stared at her fork, looking as if it were holding a secret. "A-Anybody want some more?"

"No, thank you." Jack and John both answered together.

"Hell, I miss Mister Pearson." He commented.

"John Marston, you are such a pig!" She scoffed, a laugh breathing through her lips.

"What? You always say you wanted me to be honest!" He replied, Jack laughing at his comment.

"Well, finish what you got, then. It's getting late."

───※ ·❆· ※───

The night sky was clear, painted with idle stars that assisted the moonlight lighting the trails for nightly travelers. John slept peacefully for once, his head heavy and his breathing consistent. All disturbed by a single gunshot erupting from the valley. "What the hell was that?!" He groaned, standing to his feet quickly, feeling like he had stepped back in time to where he was constantly on edge while sleeping, never knowing when an ambush from another gang would emerge. Worse enough, the Pinkertons. For a brief moment, he was terrified that someone had figured out who he and his family were, turning them in for his bounty. To his relief, there wasn't a mob awaiting him outside ready to collect the federal reward.

"W-Wha... What're you doing?" Abigail groaned, rubbing her eyes.

"My job, Abigail," He sighed, slipping on his boots over his union suit. "Lock this door behind me. Don't open it unless you know it's me." He directed, giving her no chance to reply before he dashed out of the door and towards the disturbance.

───※ ·❆· ※───

"Momma! Daddy!" They heard Isaac yell, rushing towards his parent's bed, awaking Arthur in a hurry.

"What is it, son? You alright?" He replied, his eyes wide and alert, Minnie raising up rather quickly, her instincts telling her that Isaac wasn't rushing into their room to tell them about his nightmare.

"I-I think the boogeyman is outside!" He cried.

"You sure it wasn't your papaw Hosea?" Arthur asked him, letting his son wrap his arms around his neck.

"No! Papaw can't run that fast! The boogeyman has friends, Daddy. I-I'm scared!"

Arthur looked over at Minnie, both of them sharing a glance at each other before hearing a gunshot from the distance, sounding like it had come from the neighboring ranch across the river. "Mister Geddes' men don't go shootin' this late." She furrowed her brows at Arthur before getting up from bed, slipping on her shoes to investigate the noise.

"I don't think so. You stay in here. I'll go get Hosea and Charles." Arthur directed her, watching her pout briefly as he knew her trigger itch was immense. Although they both loved their new lives as free citizens, they both missed the adrenaline rush of riding into battle on their horses, guns in their hands, fleeing from the law. It was addicting, but it was good while it lasted. Surely, if they would've stayed with their sins, neither of them would have gotten this far.

She gave him a short nod, knowing not to argue with Arthur's protective nature as Isaac was in the mix now. If he hadn't been born, he wouldn't have had much of a problem with Minnie joining him in another gunfight. He rushed down the stairs after slipping on his trousers, his Winchester in hand as he rushed to slip on his boots, his now-sweating chest heaving as the top button on his union suit had opened, cold air rushing against his skin as he exited the front door, rushing towards the bunkhouse to awake Hosea and Charles.

"Charles! Hosea! Wake up! We got a problem!" Arthur knocked, knowing Maria was in the bunkhouse with Charles, respecting her privacy.

"What is it, Arthur?" Hosea grumbled, stumbling to the door, wiping crust from his eyes.

"You mean to tell me you didn't hear that gunshot, old man?" Arthur poked.

"Why hell no. Someone's probably out huntin'!" He scoffed, his stature stiffening as another gunshot sounded, along with a few shouts as if a mob of Indians were nearby chanting their battle cry.

"Sounds like a mighty fine hunt to me, don't ya think?" Arthur arched his brow.

"Charles! Get up! We gotta go!"

"What is it?"

"No questions! Let's go!"

"I'll meet you two in the barn, alright?" Arthur asked.

"No, Arthur. You stay out of this. You got that boy now."

"What happened to no questions?" Arthur repeated. "I'll meet you two at the barn."

Hosea and Charles sprinted towards the barn, rushing to ensure their weapons were loaded as Arthur had tacked up their horses for them, quickening the process. He loaded a bullet into his Winchester, resting the stock of the weapon against his thigh as he sat high on Dahlia, who had been antsy as she remembered her time as a getaway horse, her prime years being in an active gang. "It's comin' from Geddes' ranch," Arthur explained, watching Hosea and Charles mount their horses. "I see cattle roamin' everywhere. Them Laramie boys need to be taken care of." He grumbled.

"I see fire, too." Hosea sighed.

"So much for leaving that life behind." Charles frowned.

"I guess it'll come in handy from time to time. Let's go." Arthur said, letting Dahlia gallop towards the disturbance, the men riding towards the river to get a closer look.

Once at the river, the men observed the area, seeing cattle spread out across the land. Some drinking from the river, some running for their lives. "There they are," Hosea pointed. "Them Laramie boys. Looks like three of Geddes' men chasin' after them."

"Let's go take care of it, then." Arthur grumbled.

"You should stay here, Arthur. Your wife will kill me if I go back tellin' her you got killed over your pride."

"I don't think we got much time to argue about this right now. Them boys are haulin' towards us!"

"Shoot!" Charles shouted, taking the first shot as he noticed one of the gang members aiming their revolver at Arthur. The cattle began to spook again, stampeding towards the open field ahead, ready to take down anything in their path.

The last two Laramie boys crossed the river, causing the trio of Mister Geddes' wranglers to slow their horses, only able to see each other's silhouettes. "We got these two! Go get your cattle!" Arthur commanded to them, assuming that none were capable of defending their own when it came to firearms.

Little did he know, John was the leader of the pack, picking up on his familiar accent, but not knowing for sure. Instead, he asked no questions nor tried getting a better look at the neighbor. Instead, he did as he was told.

Thinking that the remaining Laramie boys that had been shot after crossing the river by Arthur and Hosea, they assumed they were clear from any more trouble, focusing ahead on helping Mister Geddes' wranglers gather their cattle, which was far easier than taking on a gang of outlaws.

That was until he heard a familiar scream and a few curse words.

Minnie.

"Goddammit!" Arthur shouted, spurring Dahlia into a gallop towards their house, luckily, he wasn't too far away from the front gate. Looking to his right, he saw the three wranglers riding ahead to get their cattle. Ahead of him stood three more Laramie boys, one of them exiting Arthur and Minnie's house, the other two keeping guard out front.

"I'm assumin' you're the husband?" He scoffed.

"And your worst nightmare." Arthur corrected.

"I doubt that. Listen, Mister, you got yourself a nice lookin' wife here. Better lookin' than the other wife across the river. Won't you just let us take her and save us all the bother? I ain't in the mood to fight another man."

"Then how's about you fight a woman." He heard her growl, using her elbow to hit her captor bluntly between his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs as he loosened his grip on her, giving her enough time to turn around to deliver a blow to his groin with her knee before grabbing his hair, holding his head steady as she brought her knee to his nose as Arthur and Hosea took action, shooting the two remaining gang members who had no time to react due to Minnie's distraction.

Arthur dismounted Dahlia and ran to his wife, examining her, ensuring that she was alright, growing angry as he took note of her now-messy hair and bleeding lip, letting him know that some altercation took place inside at one point. "Where's Isaac?" He asked, cupping her face.

"Hidin'. I heard them boys coming close to the house, so I told him to hide up in the loft." She panted, wanting to rest her head on Arthur's chest.

"He didn't see anything, did he?"

"I hope not," She sniffled. "I ran downstairs to make it look like I wasn't hiding anything. I would've killed all three of 'em if they got a hold of our baby."

"I don't doubt it, darlin'. Hosea, let's get rid of these bodies before the boy starts gettin' curious."

"Sure, Arthur. Charles?"

"We got 'em taken care of! Thanks Mister Blake!" He heard one of the wranglers shout from the distance, waving his free arm as the other two riders kept the herd of cattle secure.

Arthur nodded, waving back, "Thank you!"

───※ ·❆· ※───

"You did real well, Mister Milton. You can really fight." Mister Dickens complemented.

"Ah, it weren't nothin'."

"You! You, sir! You save-"

"No need to thank for savin', sir. I'm just doing my job," John assured Mister Geddes. "Now, I don't think they'll be back tonight, but how about Abe here, you stay up, just in case."

"Yep, I'll do it!"

"You see anything or hear anything, you fire that rifle three times."

"Three times. Got it."

"We'll all come running."

"Will do."

"Well said, and thank you, Mister Milton. Truly." Mister Geddes said as he and John were now walking away from the corral after successfully bringing the entire herd back.

"Just glad to be of service, sir."

"I understand. You get some rest. Tend to chores when you wake up. You sleep in, Mister Milton!"

"Thank you, Mister Geddes!"

John entered the cabin, seeing an angry Abigail sitting at the table, candlelight glowing against her skin. She looked beyond irritated. "What?"

No response, just a grimace of disgust on Abigail's face, her lip curling as she watched him remove his gunbelt and boots. "What?" He repeated. "What choice did I have? Just answer me that."

She scoffed, standing to her feet before marching towards the bed, "You don't lay with me no more, John Marston."

"What was I supposed to do? Just sit and watch? Huh?"

She turned to her side, her back facing John as he looked at her, waving her hand as she never wanted to talk to him in this state again.

#arthurmorgan #minniebarlow #reddeadredemption2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2fanfiction

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soheila-1996 · 4 years

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Wake up, Rookie (Alternate ending!)

Paring: Ethan x F!MC

Word count: 3,011

Warnings: panic attack

Catch up here

Tags: @dulceghernandez @rookie-ramsey @choicesandanimeruleme @aylamwrites @ethansmommyissues @schnitzelbutterfingers @therookie @lilyvalentine @sitihania @cordoniaqueensworld @eramsey28 @lucy-268 @swimmingauthordreamerbonk @utterlyinevitable

Any feedback is always super appreciated! :) All characters belong to Pixelberry

(Ethan’s POV)

We’re approaching two weeks since Casey was admitted, Since the accident and nothing has really changed. Some cuts and bruises on her face and all over her body have started to heal but not much else has happened. I’m back at work, somewhat. I can hardly concentrate when I’m away from her and not sleeping isn’t helping either. All I’ve been doing is going to my office and looking over some notes and doing paperwork- it’s a distraction. The problem is it doesn’t actually distract me. My thoughts, my heart is on a completely different floor and It’s all I can think about. There’s no distracting myself from this. Even when I’m sometimes able to get some sleep, seeing her in that bed, in that state always plagues my dreams. Every day is like another painful blow when nothing happens. When she doesn’t wake up.

I drop the pen in my hand back down onto the desk. I can’t sit here and pretend that everything is okay when it really isn’t. This place once felt like my home in a way. My work, this place meant the world to me and now I can’t stand the sight of it. I hate being here but when I go home, not that I’ve been back to the house much, I’m surrounded by even more things that remind me of Casey. Remind me of that night. I’ve made a fair few mistakes in my time but letting her walk out will always be the thing I regret the most. This whole, heartbreaking ordeal is making me slowly lose my sanity. I like solving problems, I like fixing things and I just can’t fix this. There is nothing I can do to fix this.

I stand up from my desk after placing all the papers into a neat pile then leave my office. There’s no point being in here since I’m seemingly incapable of thinking about anything else. Naveen has said I could take as much time as I need off of work. I thought that helping someone else would distract me but It doesn’t. It just reminds me of the one person I want to help more than anything but I can’t. I lock my office door as I leave and make my way to the nearest elevator.

When I reach Casey’s room Abigail is just walking out. We quickly exchange pleasantries and she tells me she’s heading outside to get some fresh air and to meet Anthony. Her dad hasn’t really been here all that much, I understand though, It’s hard seeing someone you love like this.

As I sit down, I take her hand into mine. “This is getting ridiculous now, Case. I know you like your beauty sleep but this-” I say gesturing to her in the bed, “This is taking it up a notch. Please, please just wake up, Rookie.”

Everyone is affected differently by a head injury. The truth is we just don’t know what this has done to her until she wakes up. If she wakes up.

There’s a huge possibility of brain damage. Brain damage? That could mean so many things. What if she does? What is her life going to be like? There are so many things, so many consequences just those two words could possibly mean and that’s terrifying. This entire situation makes me feel physically sick. It’s so incredibly hard to watch someone you love

Her life could potentially be so incredibly different to how it was before all of this. Of course, I want her to wake but I’m terrified. What if she can’t do so many of the other things that she could before this? What if this affects her career. Being a doctor, saving people's lives means the absolute world to her. I’m dreading finding out if she’ll have any lasting side effect from this.

Just then, Abigail and Anthong make their way in and take a seat on the other side of the bed. I guess the one good thing to come out of this is that I’ve gotten to know her parents better but that’s not really important right now.

Some time goes by before either of us speak again, Anthony left to go and stretch his legs a short time ago. “Ethan,” Abigail calls to me quietly. I look up from my lap and over to her and she gestures to Casey. From where I’m sitting I can see her eyes starting to flutter.

“Can you go and get Harper?” Abigail nods and rushes out of the room. I stand up and move closer to the bed, moving into Casey’s line of view. The heart monitor Casey is connected to alerts me of her spiking heart rate. “Casey it’s okay. Calm down. It’s okay.” I have no idea if she understands what I’m saying to her and since she still has a tube down her throat she can't talk to me.

She uncoordinately and with much more effort than should be needed, Casey brings her weak arm up to her mouth, grabbing hold of the tube. I place my hands over her and gently push them away. “I’m going to take that out, okay? It’s alright.”

Just as I start to reach for a pair of gloves, Harper rushes in. “I’ll do it,” she insists. “Abigail, you might want to leave the room,” Harper advised as she gets a pair of gloves and slips them one easily.

Abigail refuses to leave and so Harper gets on with it. Removing the tube is never a nice thing, Casey gags a lot but Harper gets it out of it fairly quickly.

Harper moves out of the way so Abigail and I can get step up closer to the bed. Her eyes are darting around the room. She must be so confused. I can’t imagine how confusing this all must be.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, “You’re in the hospital, you were in an accident but you’re okay, Case,” I explain to her quietly.

“I’m here too,” Abigail adds, “And dad is here too. He’s just gone for a walk.”

Her eyes continue to dart back and forth between us both. She gives neither of us an indication that she understood what we just told her. “Casey, do you understand what I’m saying.”

Once again she doesn’t respond. “Casey?” I ask, grabbing hold of her hand.

“I can’t move,” She tells me. Her voice is raspy and quiet. Abigail leans in closer to her.

“What Honey?” I can see the terrified expression that plastered over her face as she asks her daughter to repeat what she just said.

“M c-can’t m-move,” she repeated. Panic immediately washes over me as I glance at Harper.

Why can’t she move? This isn’t happening.

I run my fingers through her hair to soothe as she begins to panic. “Shhh…It’s okay, Casey. It’s okay.”

“S-scared,” She whispers. She winces at the pain in her throat that the tube has caused. Her voice is barely audible.

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart,” Abigail chimes in. I can’t begin to imagine how scared and confused she is right now. She doesn’t deserve this. Nobody does.

“Tired,” She murmurs as her eyes start fluttering shut again.

“Get some rest,” I whisper. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to flutter shut.

***

It’s nearly an hour later when Harper leads Anthony, Abigail and I to a vacated board room. . I take a seat beside Abigail, Anthony takes the other side of her and Harper sits opposite us all.

“Okay, good news is Casey does have some feeling in both her legs,” Harper explains, “Two weeks is a long time to now be moving. After her legs have healed is going to need some physical therapy to get some strength back. Her memory is a little bit off, she doesn’t remember much from the accident but that’s what we’d expect anyway.”

“But she...she remembers everyone, right?” I ask. I think back to when she woke up, she didn’t say any of our names or gave an indication that she recognised us.

“Yes, she knows who her pain in the ass boyfriend is,” Harper says with a small smirk. “All in all, she’s doing really well.”

(Casey’s POV)

The next time I open my eyes, they’re thankfully not stung by the harsh light like they had been earlier. I vaguely remember waking up, seeing Ethan and my parents but nothing else. The memory is so vague that it almost feels like it was a dream or something.

I turn my head to the side and see Bryce sitting in the chair next to my bed, scrolling through his phone. I wonder where Ethan is.

“Lahela ” I whispered. My throat feels like it’s burning feeling like it’s burning. It feels like it’s literally on fire. Bryce puts his phone away and turns to me.

“Hey, look who's up,” Bryce said quietly and scooted the chair closer.

“E-Ethan,” I ask, I bring my hand up instantly to my throat at the pain that laces through it as I speak.

“Don’t talk if it hurts,” he recommends, it makes sense. “Ethan just popped out for a bit. He should be back soon but until then you’re stuck with me.”

I’m aware of the fact I’m in a hospital but why I’m here is not information i’m privy to right now. Everything is fuzzy and doesn’t make much sense. “What happened?” I wince at the burn in my throat.

“What’s that last thing you remember?” he asked, an unusual down expression on my friends face.

“I-I d-don’t-”

I look around the room. Where am I? It’s a hospital, I know but I don’t understand why I’m here or what’s going on. God, why does everywhere hurt?

There’s an annoying beeping coming from just behind my bed. Talking of the bed; it feels like it’s made of nails.

“You’re in the hospital,” Bryce confirms. I nod; I’ve already figured that out but thankful for the confirmation.

“W-why?” God my throat hurts.

“You we’re in a car accident,” he explains.

The last thing I remember is arguing with Ethan then...nothing. “W-what?” I question. None of this makes sense to me. I don’t even know how time has passed.

Is it the same day?

Is it weeks or months later?

My throat hurts so I’m logically able to put that down to an intubation tube being down there, and I kind of remember Harper removing it. “W-wh-” I just don’t understand. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest; my breathing quickens. Fuck.

A loud beeping fills the room. Bruce leaps forward and comes to sit on the bed beside me. He takes my face in his hands to make me look at him.

I can’t breathe.

“It’s okay. Case, it’s alright. Everything is okay,” he tries to soothe but it’s not. It’s not okay. None of this is okay.

My eyes dart around the room. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest!I’m trying to get air into my lungs but it seems like the harder I try, the amount of air I’m actually getting decreases.

My heart is thudding against my rib cage.

I’m confused. I’m so confused.

I’m scared.

I’m crying now; I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand how this happened.

I can’t breathe- that’s the one concrete thing I know right now.

I’m now only able to take in a few strangled breaths. The panic I’m feeling has already gotten its vicious claws in and I can’t shake it off.

I’m scared. I want Ethan.

I can feel Bryce’s hands on the side of my shoulders but his soothing touch isn’t doing anything to comfort me.

I'm vaguely aware of the door being yanked open and other people coming into the room in a flurry of colours and noises that I’m unable to make sense of.

When I look back up, Ethan is in Bryce’s place now. “Casey, look at me.” My panicked filled gaze flicks up to meet his. “It’s okay. You’re okay,”he tried to soothe. “Copy me, okay?”

I nod. I just want to be able to breathe properly again and to understand what’s going on. Ethan takes in a deep breath in through his nose and exhales out of his nose for a few seconds. I tried to follow suit but I can’t. It’s too hard.

Telling me to breathe isn’t actually helping me too!

Eventually I manage to get the hang of; following my boyfriend's breathing pattern. I feel myself start to calm down, the beeping stops, and the other people and Bryce disperse from the room, leaving Ethan and I on our own.

He stays sitting on the bed. I look up at my eyes welling up. “I don’t under-”

“It’s okay,” Ethan interrupts. “You’re okay; that’s all that matters.” Ethan explains everything to me. The accident, the two week long coma- all of it. I shouldn’t have left that night.

By the time our conversation ends, I’m exhausted and just want to sleep. It’s so much information to process. I’m still not sure that I understand all of it just yet. There’s so much that I don’t understand right now but all I know is that everything will be okay as long as I have Ethan by my side.

(Ethan’s POV)

One year later

Today is the day I never thought would become a reality at times, marrying the love of my life. Finally after the Ross and Rachel like relationship, after all the hardships we’ve faced together, we’re getting married and we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together. The next chapter of our life together is being written today.

It hasn’t been easy, that’s for certain but all those things have just made our relationship stronger. It’s made us both realise that we can get through anything together.

The last year has been incredibly difficult for the pair of us- Casey especially. She had to recover, she had to do all the work but it all led up to where we are now.

(Casey’s POV)

Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it. I’m getting married to the sexiest doctor on the planet. There’s no one else that I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. There have been a plethora of things that have happened that made me think today would never happen but alas, It’s here and I couldn’t be happier.

I’m currently in my hotel room where Ethan and I are getting married. This place is special. My parents got married here back in the day. I’m facing the mirror concentrating as I put in the last earring.

I see my mom come behind me in the mirror. I know that she’s really happy for me and it’s good since Ethan is the only one of my boyfriend who my parents 100% approve of. She walks up to stand beside me and rests her hands on my shoulder.

“You look stunning, Casey,” She says softly, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I’m ready.”

“Well then, let’s go get you married to your prince charming, shall we?” she asks, unable to keep the huge off her face.

I spin around on my heel to face her, a huge grin spreading across my own face, “Yeah,” I breathe. This is going to be the start of something amazing.

(Ethan’s POV)

Casey is sleeping soundly beside me. I’ve been unable to drift off for some time so I decided to read through some of the new medical journal Casey had recently brought me for my birthday just a week ago.

My attention is drawn to her when she flinches. I turn to look down at her and shake it off when nothing else happens. A second later Casey starts to whimper. I place the journal down onto my bedside table, about to scoot over to her but she shoots up before I can, panting and visibly shaken.

The sad truth is that Casey does often wake up from nightmares most nights. She ended remembering a little bit more of the accident and that tended to plague her dreams. She insists that she’s fine but she’s not. I don’t think anyone can just move on from something so traumatic. It’s going to take time.

We sit for a little while, Casey wrapped tightly in my arms. “Do you want to see if you can fall back to sleep?” I know that Casey is often fairly hesitant to fall back asleep again. I understand, completely. The argument, getting the phone call from Harper, seeing her for the first time and then Casey going into cardiac arrest are things that I still have nightmares about..

She yawns again and nods. I let her go out of my hold and we lie down together. Casey snuggles into my side and rests her head on my chest. I can’t explain how grateful I am to still have her here with me. Last year was one neither of us are never going to forget but it makes me appreciate her all the more. I know that I’m never going to take her for granted again.

Casey’s POV)

Being wrapped in his arms is honestly something that I didn’t would happen again. I remember seeing that car speeding towards me and thinking of Ethan. I wish that the accident never happened but it’s brought us close together. We got married, we’re happy. Yeah, we squabble now again but that’s fairly normal in most relationships but we always figure it out before it goes too far. Before one of us storms out and has another near death experience.

Ethan’s strong heartbeat is always able to soothe my after a nightmare however the nightmare is still playing over and over in my head and I know that Ethan’s notices.

“It’s okay, Rookie. I’m here. For as long as you need me to be I’ll be here.”

#soheila-1996 writes #open heart #open heart fic #open heart fanfiction #open heart 2 #open heart 2 fic #open heart fanfic #choices open heart 2 fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices open heart #Choices Ethan Ramsey #choices #ethan ramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey #dr ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey fanfic #choices ethan #dr casey valentine #ethan x mc

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iam-kenough · 4 years

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Will you ever notice me? Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Summary: During they wandering in deep snowstorm, man from van der Linde gang found odd looking girl and Dutch decides to take her to camp to see if she can be any use, leading life of outlaw with them. Quickly, new girl develops feelings towards Arthur, but he sees her just as a kid...and she won't take that! It's an original character story that starts in the place where Arthur, Dutch and Micah were supposed to first meet with Sadie. Instead she's already with them.

Authors notes: It’s second chapter and you can find the rest of chapter on my blog if you want to read more of my fanfiction.

Word count: 2978 Chapter 2

It was next day's evening when they landed on new camp's place. Everyone started arranging their tents and some of them decided to go to the lake and bath after long trip.

- The water is so damn cold! But it was nice to take a bath after all those hours- Iris was talking to Mary-Beth and her teeth were chattering. She decided to wear woolen dress Mary gave to her, not being even slightly suspicious why Iris would wear a dress so badly. It was nice, wine red and warm one. She decided to tweeze her brows a little bit and she brushed her long, black hair putting them in loose bun. Even though she will undress and wear only chemise in her bed in less than 3 hours.

Iris looked around and sighed. All good places for a tent were taken and she couldn't sleep with girls in their tent 'cause it was too small. She had to prepare her own but there was only one way left to do that.

- Knock, knock - she said awkwardly, knocking on one of polls holding Arthur's tent. He was on his coot, drawing something in his journal. It catched her attention. Didn't know he's romantic soul who would sketch while sulking like this.

- How can I help ya? - he closed the book and looked at her shyly. He analysed her posture in new clothes but very quickly so it wouldn't scare her or make her uncomfortable. Girls usually didn't like his sight on them.

- Will it bother you if I will place my tent right next to yours? All good spots were taken when I took a bath - her cheeks flushed a little bit. She even tried to flirt with him and bat her eyes, while she squeezed fabric of her dress.

- It's rather if I won't bother you, kid.

If I could I would devour you right here, Mr Morgan and you would be the only person not bothering me. I would undress you from your bright blue shirt which matches your eyes so good and I would let you pop my cherry...

- You'right out there, kid? Asked ya if I won't bother you.

- N-no, never. Thank you, Mr Morgan - she jumped into the air and disappeared to set her tent. It was mirroring his and when she was looking above her trunk she could see him, deeply in his thoughts. Honestly, if they would rearrange it a little bit more they would have big, shared tent with two beds next to eachother. But she they wasn't close enough for Iris to ask for it even if she wouldn't mind.

Later that night they had supper prepared by her and Mr Pearson. Almost everyone was eating together but she noticed Arthur hidden in his spot. She went to her tent and sat on the coot mirroring his position.

- I hope it tastes good? - Iris asked after few minutes. He raised her eyes surprised at her.

- You eatin' with my poor companion? I see everyone gathering around the fire.

- They're all nice and stuff but I like to eat in peace. You're not bad to be with, Mr Morgan.

It sounded a little bit frivolous and she actually liked it, surprised with her own temper.

He blushed. Or rather tips of his ears did.

- It's just surprising 'cause yall girls are always eating together. And yes, this stew is amazing - he liked his fingers and brushed his dirty mouth with his sleeve.

Normally she would jerk away on this kind of behaviour but she giggled at sight of big man eating messy like that.

- Girls are okay, especially Tilly and Mary, but Karen has...a little bit to intense character. Oh, and Dutch's girlfriend. That lady hates me.

- She hates everybody, dont'cha worry.

- Today she hit Dutch with a book, saying he's throwing me looks - Iris was giggling and she brushed loose hair behind her ear.

- Looks, ya say? Oh don't worry, you just new, that's why he does that, kid.

- She's rather young too, you know. It's just the make-up she uses, makes her look older.

- Ya say? Nah, you still look like kid to me. With all those freckles and you being thin. Not so sure you should go with us to rob that train, I will have to watch you all the time - his voice was low and he chuckled.

Ouch, that was bad! So he doesn't like freckles...It's nothing I can do about it. But maybe if I'm gonna eat more I'll stop being thin, get some bust maybe and then-

- You sure you want to sit here with me? You seemed bored with my old feller talkin'.

- I-I am not bored at all. Can you show me what are you drawing?

He brushed his chin, sign of him being shy and he passed her the journal. On two pages he drew their whole new camp.

- I must say you can draw, Mr Morgan. You've got talent - she passed the journal back and their hands brushed against each other. She blushed again.

- Talent that's useless for sure - his voice was low and nice and he almost sounded like purring cat. Iris felt knot tying up in her stomach.

- It's not, it's not! - she shaked her head - I find it really pretty. You could draw something for me one day - it was supposed to be flirt and she bit her lower lip but he didn't notice that. He just cheered up.

- What you like, then? I can draw it for you - he patted her arm in friendly manner. They were so close right now, their faces next to each other. She could smell him.

What do I like? Your lips, your intriguing eyes, the fact that your hair was so messy and the fact you smell like whiskey, cigarettes and sweat.

- Flowers - she said plainly, looking at her feet - Any flowers are good. Or animals. I saw you sketching deer one day.

- I've been hit on my head a lot so if I would forget remind me of it, kid - she looked at him once again and licked her lower lip, becoming red on her cheeks. He started looking at her quizzically.

- I think you catched a cold, kid, you seem burning up. Better go to sleep, tomorrow's a day too.

Knot in her stomach popped and she lowered her head. Kid, you say. Im gonna show you, one day I will gain weight, have some reall boobs and nice mature dresses and you will look at me the right way. She got up a little bit too quick, tears forming in corner of her eyes but he was facing her back almost immediately and he didn't see.

- Y-you right, I don't feel my best - she answered with shaking voice and she rubbed her eyes - I'm...gonna get some rest. Goodnight, Mr Morgan.

- Uh-, yea, good night - he read her bad, he was sure she's sick but she seemed rather irritated by the fact he noticed? I will apologize tomorrow.

She put on the curtain between the halves of tent which was giving them privacy now and she sighed. At first she looked in small mirror she owned and analised her own face. You ugly, Iris.

Girl looked at herself quizzically. Big, green eyes with long lashes and nice, pink lips but then freckles happened, covering her nose and cheeks. Her hair were jet black but wavy instead of sleek locks of other girls around. Iris started undressing herself and she looked at her figure with disgust. She had round hips and long legs, but that's it. She looked thin and had small breast and that was not what men would look at. It's not what he would look at.

When she put on her night gown and layed down she looking at tents ceiling and thinking. Oil lamp in Arthur's half stopped giving light, he was going to sleep. She heard him getting comfortable on his bed and after few minutes he was breathing heavily.

She drifted away in her sleep, thinking how it would be to cuddle his big frame.

Another few weeks passed and in this time Iris tried her best to prove she's mature and strong but also femine at the same time. It was difficult to kill a man at 4 and then acting like a subtle lady few hours later. It was nice, warm evening and girls decided to go swimming after long day of work. Iris was so happy and relaxed as she and Mary - Beth was looking at red sky and Tilly with Karen was fooling around in water.

- Can I tell you a secret? You will like it - Iris whispered. Mary seemed excited immediately.

- Tell me, tell me! - she giggled

- I fell in love - Iris whispered to her ear and her friend become red from blushing.

-No way! Who, who is he? Or maybe she? - Blond girl tickled brunette a little bit.

- It's him, yes. But I wouldn't mind you...- they purred at each other and then burst into laugh.

- Who? I bet it's John, all girls are sweet on him and Abigail hates us for that.

-Nope!

- Bill!

-No!

- New O'Driscolls boy!

- Ew!

- Then who, Dutch?

- You must be crazy! I mean...he's not bad if you think about him but this red-head witch he's with? I have no chances - Iris was laughing so badly.

- You have to tell me! But then it has to be someone from outside the camp...

-No! He's there, Mary-Beth, please don't make me say his name out loud.

And then Mary became pale. Then red again. Then she got up.

-No! From all of them you choosed Arthur Morgan?!

- Shhh! We are too close to the camp!

- But why?! He's sweet but we have never seen him with woman, you know. I think he's a little bit weird about it. Dutch once laughed at him taking a bath with a dog when camp had one.

- W-Well...he seems a little awkward and he's like wild animal more than a man but he's charming and he always complemented food I make and he always talks to me in the evening.

- At least he talks to you, he usually doesn't. To no one.

- That's my problem, he talks to me but he seemes to see me as a kid. I tried everything! Few days ago I was sitting with him and we was both reading a book and I looked at him so nicely, I tried my best to look at him with hazy, flirting eyes. And he asked me if I needed glasses because I blink a lot.

- Well...I don't know how to help you - Mary said as they were walking towards camp - usually it's easy, a little bit of exposed skin and being close. You should try it.

- I should...I should go to his tent dressing my nightgown for example?

- Oh, that's an idea! I saw it and it's really cute and...hot.

-Mary- Beth, are you hitting on me? - she joked as they was passing Hosea's tent. Girls heard him talking with Arthur and they would ignore but they heard Iris's name. They started listening immediately, hiding behind the tent to eaves dropping.

- And this new girl, Iris's her name - Hosea said.

- What's with her?

- Just wanted to know what you think about her - he seemed to tease Arthur a little bit.

- It's good kid, she seems to like my company. And honestly, I like hers, she doesn't talk that much comparing to any of you fools - he cleared his throat.

- I thought that you are much closer. Basically sharing a tent and talking every evening...

- What d'ya say, Hosea?

- How long have been since you had a woman, Arthur?

- Not long enough to think about it again- his voice became angry in the nick of time - it's kid we talking about, don't get the wrong idea.

Iris inhaled sharply and bit her lower lip, while her eyes became glossy. But she listened, she couldn't stop.

- Isn't it obvious, Arthur? She looks at you very odd way and she enjoys your company a lot, lot more than others.

- I didn't notice. By the way, she's not stupid. I'm much older and I have past, just no way I would be with her. She doesn't love me to start with. One day she will leave the camp to have a normal life.

Sound of tears dropping on Iris's dress was the only sound she was making. She got up quickly and in a blink of an eye disappeared, running into the woods.

- Iris?! - Mary- Beth tried to follow her but she tripped over one of tent's strings. She sweared ugly.

This is bad, so bad - was all Iris was thinking. Her breathing heavy, her eyes red. She stopped in the middle of nowhere, just when she was sure all around her was dark forest. She didn't even know why she was so agry. Maybe because he said out loud things I thought about myself? Maybe because she was sure that his ears getting red were sign of him considering her as someone hot?

But look at yourself, c'mon. When father lived, he always told you you gonna become a maid, because no man would touch something so fragile, that looks constantly sick. He was right, oh so badly right. And now Iris had to apologise to Mary-Beth for leaving her like that.It was dark night when she got back to the camp, everyone sleeping in their tents. Only one oil lamp was glowing. She decided to act like nothing happen, just not to lose his friendship, ever. So she took a deep breath and peaked her head inside his part of tent.

- Just wanted to say good night, Mr Morgan - was all she said, smiling faintly.

- Kid! You weren't there for supper. Did something happened?

- N-no...just small fight with girls - she lied without hesitation. Then smiled a little bit more so he won't be suspicious. He always was but he was taking her lies as an answer, 'cause she lied when it would expose her feelings.

- Small fight made you disappear without word? Y'got hot head then - he joked. His blue eyes were piercing her.

- Maybe a little - he didn't see nothing good about her anyway, she could become hothead in his eyes even it was inappropriate for woman.

- Wanna talk about it?

- With you? I-I mean we can but it's nothing. Really.

- You seem sad lately, kid. Is someone or something bothering you?

- Ah...no, just stupid, girly things.

- Girly things - he seemed a little bit scared now.

- Interests of heart, to call it. Nothing too exciting, especially for you.

He became silent. So she wasn't considering him as a close friend if she didn't want to tell. He thought different for a second but...she was right, he was no friend.

- Were you ever in love, Mr Morgan? - he heard her voice from behind one of trunks. She probably lied on her bed.

- F'course I was. But if you askin' me 'bout those things ya need to share with me first, ya know? What are those Interests of heart, huh?

She took deep breath. After few seconds she knew how to tell it without being obvious.

- I just fell in love with someone who will never accept me. He's good friend and that's only reason I didn't tell him yet. But I know....I heard what's he talking about me, no need to share my feelings with him, because he considers me strongly as a friend, nothing more. It would make our relationship awkward.

He furrowed his brows. So she was seeing someone. He wondered who.

- That sounds a lil' bit bad, kiddo. Maybe I don't look like but I know how to have a broken heart - he said as his eyes become glossy. She couldn't see them anyway, so he didn't hold back thinking about Mary right now - But if it's your friend he shouldn't judge ya, ya know. Even if he doesn't share feelings with you. You sure, he does not?

- One hundred percent sure - she said that very slowly because those words left bitter on her tongue - and I'm not afraid of being judged, I just know it would destroy our friendship.

- He's no friend then - Arthur replied shortly. He felt like dumbass but if she liked talking to him about all of this he felt appreciated.

Iris took deep breath. You are a friend. The closest one I have now after those weeks that passed. And I will cherish you forever, even if your lack of knowledge will hurt me sometimes.

- He is. About this I'm sure. I really love this person. Thank you, Mr Morgan for listening to me - it sounded like she thanked him for listening but she was actually thanking him for everything.

It seemed like yesterday when they rescued her but it wasn't. Many days passed and she already shared with him many thoughts but also many jobs, even dangerous one. They robbed trains together after all. They was murdering together. And every evening they were lying in their beds and talking. They usually looked at their tent's ceiling but she didn't mind. He seemed so sad and distanced, always worried. She also noticed his extremely low self-esteem, he always was talking that he's not good man and that he's stupid on account being hit on the head to often.

She had fallen asleep to those thoughts.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 oc #rdr2 tag #slow romance #angst #smuttish #fluff

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

Hello dear writer! Can you write scenario of Arthur receiving some wonderful news by reader about him becoming a father?

Hello, Anon! I certainly can, but I hope that those of you who have been pregnant or are parents forgive my extremely limited knowledge on being pregnant/giving birth. I have never been nor want to be pregnant so this might be completely wrong.

Warnings: swearing, childbirth

You wake up, the leaves whispering in your ear as they dance in the morning’s breeze. You’re on your back, Arthur’s arm draped over your stomach in his sleep. You smile at his sleeping face and lean over, kissing the tip of his nose lightly. You feel like you’re the luckiest girl in the world being involved with Arthur Morgan.

As you’re admiring his features, your stomach clenches painfully. Damn it, you’d hoped this would go away. The last couple of days you’ve been hit with waves of nausea, but you’re sure it’s just from a stomach bug or maybe you ate something funny. You extract yourself from Arthur’s arm and run to the edges of Horseshoe Overlook, preparing yourself to hurl. It doesn’t come and so you sit down, your forehead sweating a little. After some time, the stomach cramps disappear and you feel a bit better.

When you rejoin camp, Arthur’s walking over to you, holding a cup of coffee. You take it and thank him, not sure you want to drink it. The two of you stand by your shared tent for a moment, drinking and holding hands.

As the day wears on and Arthur is called on various chores, including taking you and the other girls to Valentine, you’re still feeling a bit odd. Every once in a while, you’ll be hit with nausea again while at other times you get a powerful craving for specific kinds of food, like bacon and chocolate. You find yourself slightly repulsed by the desire to have chocolate-covered bacon.

Night comes and you go to bed early due to a headache. Arthur’s getting worried about you. He’s noticed your bouts of nausea but he’s sure you’re just a bit ill from something. He sends you to bed because of your headache, telling you that you’ll feel better in the morning.

You stay awake though and wait for him. Despite your headache, you’re hankering for something else. Something you need Arthur’s help with. When he joins you an hour later, you practically attack him. He’s taken by surprise but he doesn’t mind at all and does his best to satisfy you, which luckily doesn’t take much from him. However, you do notice while making love to him that your chest is much more tender than usual and even hurts a little when Arthur touches you there. He notices and apologizes before moving to other places.

In the morning, you’re still nauseous. You’re beginning to worry about what’s wrong with you. When Arthur gets up, you go with him to get some coffee but he’s called over by Hosea. A few minutes later, he comes back stating he’s going to go hunting with him and might be gone until tomorrow. You kiss him goodbye, although you’d been planning to ask him to go to the doctor’s with you. You’ll have to go alone, you suppose, as everyone else is busy. Before Grimshaw has a chance to swoop down on you, you mount up on your horse and leave for town.

The doctor stands at his desk, adding a clear liquid to a tiny vial. He greets you when you come in and asks how he can help. You explain that you’ve been sick the last few days. He nods, his jaw set.

“You’d better come in back with me. I’d like to do an examination on you.”

You suddenly wonder if it’s more serious than a simple stomach bug. You follow him into the room and he instructs you to sit. Once you do, he grabs a chart and puts on his glasses. “Now explain to me all your symptoms, even if they seem strange or out of place.”

You nod and list off what you’ve experienced. When you’re done, he asks, “Are you sexually active?”

The question catches you off guard. “I don’t see why that’s important,” you say, feeling defensive. You cross your legs.

“Trust me, ma’am, it is. Just say yes or no, be honest, and I’ll explain why I’m asking.”

You sigh and then admit that you are. The doctor makes a final note on his paper, sets it on his lap and looks up at you.

“Well, miss, all the signs say that you’re pregnant.”

Your eyes widen and you hear a rushing sound in your ears. “W-what?” you say. “No, no that can’t be. I’m not… I’m not…”

“I’m real sorry, miss. I ain’t one to judge, you’re surely not my first patient with an unexpected pregnancy. However it is one of the risks you take during intercourse.”

Your eyes are tearing up. You’ve been with Arthur a few months now and of course dreamed of having a family with him, but now is the worst time. The gang’s on the run and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get the right tools to care for a child. You sit and listen to the doctor as he explains the changes your body’s about to make and what to expect.

When you leave the doctor’s office, you feel terrified and dumbfounded. How could this have happened? You and Arthur have been so careful every time you’ve had sex, he always makes sure to never finish inside you. As you ride back to camp though, your mind drifts back to the night just before the Blackwater heist. You and Arthur had been out alone on a hunting trip and had gotten frisky. You’d gotten him overworked and he’d gone off before he had the chance to pull out. You told yourself it wasn’t a problem, that people rarely got pregnant after only one time of the man coming inside the woman, yet here’s the proof that your knowledge on pregnancies is wrong.

As you ride up slowly to Horseshoe Overlook, you put your hand on your stomach. Could Arthur’s child really be in you? Something about it feels right and yet the timing is all wrong. Your heart sinks again when you realize you’ll have to tell him, but how? Will he be angry? Will he dump you and leave you to care for the child alone? You automatically know he wouldn’t do this. He’s already told you about Eliza and Isaac and how he tried to look after them. He surely would do the same for you and your baby, if not better.

When you arrive in camp, you do your best to swallow your fears and worries. You put on a straight face and head over to the other girls, sitting down with them to work on laundry. You try to act normal, but obviously don’t do a very good job.

“You a’right, Y/N?” Mary-Beth asks. “Been awful quiet.”

Without warning, you suddenly burst into tears. Tilly and Mary-Beth stop and even Karen wanders over, worried.

“I… I don’t know what to do!” you wail into your hands. You explain to them in hushed tones about your predicament. “What will Arthur say?” you sniff. “I’m scared to tell him, how could he not be mad? Right now’s the worst time for us to have a baby!”

Mary-Beth puts a hand on your shoulder. “Ah, he won’t be mad! Not like he didn’t have a hand in it, after all. ‘Sides, if I know Arthur, I know he’ll be so excited. Why, you probably couldn’t give him better news!”

“But… but it’s the worst time for us to have a child. What with lawmen breathing down our necks and being on the run. How am I going to do this? What will Dutch say?”

“This ain’t for Dutch to decide,” Abigail says. She’s walked over and you suddenly realize she’s the best person for you to talk about this with because she was and still is in your shoes with Jack and John.

“What do I do, Abigail?” you beg her for answers. She sits down next to you with a heavy sigh.

“I know it’s real scary, Y/N. The first thing ya gotta do is talk to Arthur since he is the father. The two of you can come to the decision about what happens down the road. Don’t talk to Dutch or Hosea, wait until you talk to him.”

She pats your hand comfortingly. You suddenly wish Arthur was here, not because you’re excited but because you just want to get this over with. He’s gone the rest of the day though and isn’t back until later the next day. When he comes back, he waves and smiles at you, as he always does. You find yourself trembling and returning his wave halfheartedly. He walks over to you and tries wrapping his arms around you like he normally does, but you find yourself pulling away.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asks, worry sketched across his face.

“Arthur, we need to talk alone. It’s important.”

He looks down at you, his smile fading. He swallows hard and nods. “Okay,” he says softly. You clasp your hands together and walk into your shared tent. He pulls the flaps shut so you can have some privacy and then you turn to him, shaking.

“Arthur, I-I need to tell you something. Something’s happened and I can’t…” you look away, your eyes tearing up. Your throat feels like it’s swelling shut.

“Darlin’, ya can tell me anythin’. I just hope I haven’t hurt ya somehow.” His eyes are hidden beneath his hat and he looks miserable. You realize he thinks you’re probably about to break up with him, so you grab his hand.

“Arthur, you haven’t hurt me. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. If it wasn’t for our situation right now, I’d be so excited to tell you this. But seeing as things are the way they are now, I’m.... Arthur, I’m scared.”

“Why? What’s goin’ on?” He looks up at you.

“I’m… I’m pregnant, Arthur.” You put your hands over your face and start to cry. You fully expect him to storm out of the tent after a moment, or to leave or to say something horrible to you. What you don’t expect is him wrapping his arms around you and putting his cheek on your head as you sob into his chest.

“Darlin’, that’s wonderful!”

“No, it’s not, Arthur. How are we going to do this?” you say into his shirt. “We can’t run from lawmen with a newborn. How are we supposed to survive?”

He rubs your back and sighs. “I know it’s real scary right now and I don’t know what’s goin’ to happen anymore than you do. I do know this though.” He pulls you away so he can look into your watery eyes. “I’m gonna be with ya every step of the way, ya hear? You ain’t gotta do this alone. I ain’t gonna be like John and abandon you for a year, and I ain’t gonna do to you what I did to Eliza and Isaac. We’re gonna get through this together.”

You nod and begin to cry harder again, going back into the security of his arms.

*******************************************

As the months pass, you and Arthur become closer. He’s done exactly what he’s promised and been with you through the entire process. He even quit taking debt collections from Strauss because he realizes that those people are in the same predicament as you: beginning a new family with no money and no hope. He also hates who he has to become in order to do it and doesn’t want to bring that home to you and your future child. Strauss doesn’t take it well but Arthur tells him to stick it up his ass.

After you told him about being pregnant, he took you around to the gang that night and announced it, calling for a celebration. You said it was the worst time to have a baby being on the run, but Arthur, Dutch and Hosea agreed that it was good to know new life was coming from all this drama and the deaths of Jenny and the Calendar boys.

Dutch and Hosea were as excited as Arthur had been, declaring they already wanted to meet their grandchild. It was endearing to see them so happy and when the rest of the gang congratulated you and Arthur, that pit in your gut began to loosen and for the first time you felt excited too.

When your belly began to swell to the point people could see it through your clothes, Arthur became increasingly protective. He’d always been so, but he turned it up even more. If anyone in town looked at you funny, he’d bark at them.

Of course, you’d brought it to Arthur’s attention that you could just offer the child up for adoption, though you didn’t want to. He wouldn’t hear of it though. “I want this new chance, darlin’. I wanna watch our baby grow up.” You were grateful for this as all you ever wanted to give Arthur was a family.

As your belly grew, your hormones changed with it. You started having wild cravings, but Arthur was almost always there to get the things you wanted, no matter how absurd or expensive the food was. Not only that, you started having wild mood swings. One night, you completely wore him out because you went from fucking him to sobbing into his chest about the silliest things, like when your childhood dog died and then right back to fucking him.

Arthur remembers fondly when he first felt your baby thump. He’d been lying in your cot with you, his hand on your stomach when he felt the tiny bump. He grinned and started talking to your belly, which only made the baby thump even more. You noticed afterwards that your baby moved most often when it heard Arthur’s voice.

Eight months have gone by since and you’re living with the gang in Shady Belle, having been forced to flee from Horseshoe Overlook and Clemens Point. Your stomach protrudes quite a bit now and you suffer constantly from back pain. Grimshaw has luckily eased up on you doing chores since you aren’t very mobile anymore, not to mention your feet have swollen up which makes it even harder to walk. Arthur’s hardly left camp in the last two weeks after you had false labor pains. Dutch and Hosea have begged him to go out and work but he won’t, not when you might deliver any day now.

You’re lying in your cot in Arthur’s room now. It’s the middle of the day and swelteringly hot. You’re tired as you were kept awake last night by sharp pains in your lower back and pelvis. You don’t know if this means you’re close to giving birth, but Abigail’s been a great help. She’s given you lots of tips and hints about it. “You ain’t gonna like it,” she said, “but it’s worth it in the end. And as time goes by, you forget about the pain.”

Arthur walks into the room now and he greets you with a kiss. “How’s our baby?” he says softly, his hand on your large stomach. You put your hand over his and squeeze. “Good. I’m ready to be done though, Arthur. I knew pregnancies were hard but I didn’t think it’d be like this.”

He chuckles. “I know, sweetheart. I have a feeling it’ll be soon though.”

Dutch suddenly calls him and he leaves the room. You close your eyes, ready to try and take a nap when you feel something moist between your legs. Your eyes snap open and you remove your undergarments to see a large amount of blood. “Arthur!” you scream as pain begins waving through your body.

He runs in and when he sees your state, he calls Abigail and Grimshaw. When they come in, they try pushing him out but he fights them, stating he wants to be with you. They relent and he holds your hand, letting you try to break it.

As the hours pass, Abigail and Grimshaw check on you constantly. Finally they decide you’re dilated enough. Arthur gets a bucket of water while Abigail brings in blankets. When they’re ready, they help you position yourself and then tell you to start pushing.

The pain is indescribable and you cry out, tears cascading from your eyes. Arthur sits by your head, whispering encouragement in your ears. You’re pretty sure you say some nasty things to him, which you later feel bad about, but he doesn’t take them to heart. After several hard pushes and wails from you, Abigail and Grimshaw suddenly gasp and pull something up. You’ve been blinded by the pain but you hear something getting lightly slapped and then a new, unfamiliar wail pierces the room.

“She’s beautiful,” Arthur says in your ear. You open your eyes to see him crying and look down to see Abigail holding your daughter as Grimshaw starts cleaning her up. When she’s clean and bundled up, Abigail hands her to you. The little girl immediately quiets down in your arms as you rock her. She has a thick smattering of hair that’s the same color as yours, but when she opens her eyes they look just like Arthur’s. You look over at him, his own eyes moist, and hand her to him.

He cradles the baby gently in his arms and the two look at each other as though they’ve known each other for years. “Hello, Amber Morgan. I’m your papa.” Your heart swells as he names her and you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. He looks over at you and smiles.

“This is the best thing I could ever ask for, Y/N. Thank you.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur x female reader #awkward asks

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dreamdaddydutch · 5 years

Note

You wanted a fluffy request? Well here you go! How about how the gang members react to their S/O saying "I love you" for the first time? I'll let you decide which ones because i love them all but could i request Sean is in there plz? ;w;) I love your blog!

Thank you so much for this super cute and fluffy prompt (and your kind words!) It was exactly what I needed, I’m just sorry it took so long. I only went with 4 characters as I ended up making each one so bloody long! Of course Sean is first ;) No real warnings apart from a mention of sex - but no graphic descriptions. Gender neutral reader.

This request reminded me I did write a short fic on a similar topic with the prompt, “what am I to you?” it’s Arthur x reader and can be found here.

Sean

There never seems to be a good time with Sean to tell him how you feel, he’s usually wrapped up in drinking, singing or hungover.

But there’s a night when he’s tipsy, not quite drunk and you decide to swallow your pride and tell him.

You take hold of his hand and lead him away to a tree.

“Oh aye you want some alone time with old Sean do ‘yah?” He laughs and teases as you walk away from the others.

“Sean I….” you start, finding it difficult to form the words you want to say into a coherent sentence.

“Sean I don’t know how to..” you find yourself stuttering and immediately regret the decision to tell him.

The smile disappears from Sean’s face and he appears an equal mixture of worried and confused.

You know you have to put the poor boy out of his misery so you take a deep breath in through your nose, hold for a few seconds and blurt out, “I think I.. I love you.”

For a moment his expression remains frozen and then he beams.

He literally sweeps you off your feet, picking you up in his arms and spinning you round.

When he puts you back on the ground he kisses you - one big sloppy kiss.

Then he runs back to the camp fire shouting, “They love me! y/n loves me!”

He is literally jumping up and down, giddy with excitement, you can’t help but laugh as you watch him, relived that his reaction was thus.

He’ll gloat a little afterwards

But when the two of you are alone in bed and the noise of the evening has calmed down, that’s when he’ll turn to you and say, “Hey y/n for what it’s worth, I love you too.”

Javier (of course I had to include him)

You and Javier had been going steady for some time, you’d been friends for a long time first, slowly getting to know each other.

When you started dating it just sort of happened, it wasn’t planned, you both just fell into a routine by one another’s side and the affection and romance begun to blossom.

it was only when you were discussing your relationship with Arthur and Mary-Beth that you suddenly realised – you were in love.

You wanted to tell Javier immediately but felt terrified of ruining the good thing you already had with him. It had taken so long for the two of you to kiss, to share a cot, to be intimate with one another, you worried that telling him something like this might spoil the connection you had.

But the more you tried to crush the feelings, the more they grew. Every time you saw him, every smile he gave you, every time his hand landed on his hip and grabbed his belt, every brush of your hair… The butterflies in your stomach were frantic and begging to be free.

Finally you ask to speak to him alone

He agrees happily, though a little concerned about the urgency. He decided to take you both fishing, where you won’t be disturbed.

You both fish for a while, chatting ideally about your day, when Javier turns to you, “What’s wrong querido?” He places a hand on your knee and won’t break eye contact.

You panic for a moment and shake your head, “Nothing, Why?” But you know your tone is giving it away, you’re high-pitched, you answered too quickly.

Javier smiles, “Really? You’ve been kind of distant from me,” he seems sad then.

“I…” you decide it’s now or never, “Javier, I love you, I’m in love with you,” you feel tears well in your eyes as you speak the truth.

There’s a moment where it appears he’s processing what you’ve just said and then his face cracks into the biggest smile, he squeezes your knee.

Then takes hold of you hands in his, you’re pretty sure he’s a little teary eyed, “Mi amor, I’m so relieved I thought something was wrong.”

The two of you just sit for a moment staring into each others eyes, hands entwined, both enjoying the warmth that has washed over you.

Eventually Javier speaks agin, “My feelings…I feel the same way. I was just..”

He pauses, you finish his sentence for him, “Scared?”

He nods, and although he doesn’t speak the words, his expression tells you everything you need to know.

He pulls you into a tight embrace and kisses you - the fish that has taken the bait getting away as he does so.

Karen

You and Karen had begun as one drunken night.

Before the night in question you’d been flirting with her a little, you always complimented how she looked and liked to spend time getting to know her.

But you often worried the feelings that were stirring inside might have been unrequited.

It was only after that drunken night where you’d been sloppy kissing by the campfire and had slid onto her lap.

Only after the two of you had disappeared into your tent and slept together.

Only after you woke up with her in your arms

That you realised it - shit - you had fallen in love.

A few weeks pass since you slept together, it’s as if nothing has changed between the two of you. You’re still good friends and get on like a house on fire.

Late one afternoon you decide to tell her, you figure it’s best to do it before she starts to notice you’re acting strange.

You try to get Karen on her own away from the others, but you’re sure some of the other women are listening in to your conversation.

In fact you can hear giggling as you try to have a serious conversation.

Karen is all smiles as you talk, curling her hair round her finger and ruffling her skirts as she shifts on the ground trying to get comfortable.

“Karen you should know, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

She blushes and it’s such a beautiful and alluring shade of red against the fairness of her hair.

You take her hands in your own, “I love you Karen.”

The only word to describe her reaction is disbelief - she sort of tries to laugh it off.

You think it’s just about one of the most adorable things you’ve ever seen.

She tries to brush it off, others like to sleep with her, they like her because she��s ‘fun’ but no one loves Karen Jones.

“Wrong,” you say, “I do.”

You pull her into your arms as she weeps with joy, trembling as she does so.

The two of you cuddle up in the blanket and decide to take your time before heading back to camp.

So you take her to a nice spot with a nice view, but it isn’t far from camp.

You find yourself stumbling over your words, due to her fun nature you’re a little afraid that your affections may go unrequited.

John (if he isn’t with Abigail)

You and John had been sleeping together for some time.

It had started as a ‘friends with benefits’ kinda situation, a drunken night and then another and slowly it became more of a ‘as and when’ you both needed affection/close contact with another.

But in doing this you’d become even closer friends and started to feel like you understood one another better than anyone else in camp.

You’d even started to buy little presents for Jack, cautious that you weren’t over-stepping a line. But it made Jack happy and Abigail liked that someone else was looking out for him.

One night John and you decide to get a hotel somewhere

He lets you buy a bath for him, you both feel you need it.

John is sat in the bath, you’re sat behind washing his hair.

As your hands massage his scalp he lets out low moans of ecstasy and you smile to yourself, content in that moment.

But something else is there, something that is making you feel sick whenever you think about it, as you focus on how much you have grown to love him, you feel bile rising in your throat.

You had’t even realised but your hands had stopped massaging his scalp.

“Hey Y/N what’s wrong?”

“Oh….nothing, sorry,” you continued to massage his scalp and then worked on the muscles in his upper arms.

Your face was close to his, he watched your hands with great curiosity.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He reached out for your cheek.

You nodded, clearly not okay, you knew you had tears in your eyes and were trembling a little.

“John…I need to tell you something, I think I…” but you couldn’t say it.

“I love you y/n.” John said softly.

You looked up at him in disbelief, “You do?”

He nodded, “Yes, now let’s dry those tears.”

#Sean MacGuire #Javier Escuella #Karen Jones #John Marston #rdr2 #mine #prompt #asks #request #I love you #kissing #Sean macguire x reader #javier escuella x reader #karen jones x reader #john marston x reader #gender neutral reader

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elreyconducto · 5 years

Text

Powers and Food Don’t Mix: Part III--Neon Should Have Been a No-No

Disclaimer: I do not own Second Son

Rating: T

Pairing: Delgenetch

Words: 3106

Warning: language

Summary: Last part of the "Powers and Food Don't Mix" mini-series. Time to see what shenanigans Fetch will get up to.

Happy 2019 everyone! Hope the new year brings you all the best! I’ve been writing this chapter on-off in like 3-minute intervals between classes since November. If it seems a bit choppy, that’s why.

(AO3 Link) || (FF.Net Link)

Powers and Food Don’t Mix Part III: Neon Should Have Been a No-No

April showers bring May flowers, so the saying went.

Fetch wanted to punch whoever came up with that stupid line, because it was May and God seemed to have decided to flood all of Seattle with rain all this month so far. The streets constantly had an inch or two of water rushing down them, there were worms everywhere on the sidewalks, and the mosquitoes seemed to be achieving plague-levels more suited for the Bible. Just the thought of the mess that was outside made the mosquito bites on her body itch with an intense fervor. As she scratched her freckled legs, folded just under her on the couch, she looked out the window at the downpour outside. As much as she wanted to go outside, breathe some fresh air, and speed over buildings with a neon trail behind her, she knew she really shouldn’t be out if she didn’t have to. The neon inside her wanted a release, and she could only draw but so many neon doodles in the air.

Despite that, she pitied anyone who had to be out right now in this clusterfuck called weather.

Which meant she pitied Delsin and Eugene.

The three had run out of most of the food in their fridge and some of the various medications that they needed. Their non-perishable food had only lasted them but so long—plus, all of them had begun to complain about eating ramen and canned chicken like eight days in a row—and they had forgotten to call for refills for their meds before the storm had started—several long nights smothering DUP uprisings throughout the city left their minds very preoccupied.

Adulting was hard, dammit.

Before the suggestion of rock-paper-scissors could have popped up about who would be the poor bastard to brave the weather, Eugene of all people had volunteered himself, much to Fetch and Delsin’s surprise. He had said explained to them, through an embarrassed stutter and hands fiddling with his hoodie sleeves, that he had been working with his therapist with his social anxiety and he wanted to try shopping out in public. ‘The weather will keep most people inside, so the pharmacy shouldn’t have many people at all,’ he had said.

And, as proud of her anxiety-ridden boyfriend as she was, she had immediately protested it, claiming that he’d probably drown as soon as he stepped out of the apartment.

She was met with a, ‘W-Well, that’s why I’m bringing Delsin with me, of course.’

‘Wait, I am?’

‘Of course you are.’

And so here she was. On the couch. By herself. Thank goodness the power hadn’t gone out, otherwise she might just launch herself out the window just to achieve some sort of relief from the boredom that was plaguing her. Before she could entertain that train of thought any further, the rumbling in her stomach reminded her that her body actually needed food and couldn’t survive off of monotony and rain.

She shuffled to the kitchen, her fuzzy socks allowing an even glide against the tiled floor, and peeked into the fridge. The pitiful show of food that they have left were a few eggs, a little bit of milk, and half a stick of butter. Oh, and some various condiments. Her lips pursed of their own accord and she had to refrain from glaring at the butter like it offended her.

What the hell am I going to make with this?

Fetch took a moment to think before peering over her shoulder, scouting the area is if someone was spying on here. She knew she was the only one here, but she just couldn’t risk it…With a jut of her hip, she swung her body into a smooth glide across the kitchen to the pantry, stopping with a jazzy twirl. If Delsin or Eugene caught her moving like she was in a musical, she would never hear the end of it. But hey, what the hell. A quick check of the pantry was a sad result just like the fridge, nothing much except for a box of pancake mix, about two packs of ramen, and more canned chicken. At this point, all the canned chicken was going to make her scream.

I can probably do pancakes, she thought as she snatched the box from the cupboard. There’s just enough for all of us, and pancakes are one of Gene’s faves. I wanna make him something nice after that cake-angel debacle. She laughed to herself. Even if it was months ago, I think he’ll like this.

That in mind, she set a skillet on the stove to heat as she began mixing the ingredients in their one, yes one, mixing bowl. Once the pancake mix was to a pretty good consistency, she flicked some butter in the pan to get it slick and then poured some of the batter in the pan. Immediately, the warm scent of butter and breakfast cake wafted into the kitchen.

A feeling of nostalgic warmth curled inside of her.

For a moment, she was reminded of lazy Sunday mornings when Brent had looked after her when they were younger, much younger. When their parents had been off doing—well, she actually couldn’t remember now—stuff, Brent had always looked after her. Sunday mornings had meant sleeping in and fun pajamas, hers being a floppy shirt and pants of matching cat patterns while Brent’s had been simple black fleece pants combined with some band shirt. Some mornings had seen the rise and fall of the two separate Great Walker Armies, one general’s weapon of choice being pancake flour while the other’s trump card being eggs. Other mornings had been quiet, tame. ‘Come here and let my get you, you little punk!’ Brent would heckle at her as she ducked behind a counter. ‘You and that hair of yours makes you look like a punk!’ she would aim right back. As fun as the food fights had been, Fetch’s favorite had always been the quiet mornings—the lull, the easy state of just being, where nothing else mattered. The last day she had spent in that house had started with one of those lazy Sunday mornings…

The rising steam tickling her nose brought her attention to the pancake she needed to flip.

Her wrist-flick to turn the pancake was quick. Her sigh, much less so.

The warmth that the memory brought her was an old, threadbare blanket of her childhood, but the warmth that radiated around her here in this kitchen was a fresh thick quilt pulled straight from the dryer. Encompassing, cozy, and here.

One pancake out of the heat and batter in.

Here was this kitchen, here, where she lived with Delsin and Eugene. Here was good and now and rain and pancakes. Most importantly, here meant that she was safe.

Two more pancakes done. More batter into the pan.

If she had the ability to zip into the past and tell her younger self that this is what her life would be like, there was a certainty that her younger self would not have believed her. Life with no Brent? Not possible. Living with people that didn’t care she had…abilities? Well, she thought her parents wouldn’t mind and look where that landed her and Brent. Living with two men who loved her and would do anything for her? That would not have even been a possibility in her mind. Being happy without constantly thinking about what was going to happen to her? Younger Abigail would not have been able to come up with an answer.

Pancake out, batter in. Flip, wait. Pancake out, more batter in.

Fetch thought hard about where she was in her life today. Thought about her boyfriends, about Delsin and Eugene. My boys, she thought as her lips crooned into a smile. Those two were such idiots sometimes, as most guys were, but she wouldn’t trade them for anything. Delsin with his stupidly handsome face and nice hair and good heart and love for his tribe and family and amazing art skills, and Eugene with his adorable dorkiness and his constant battle with his anxiety and his particular knowledge of video games and his cute everything. My boys.

More pancakes into the plate to join their buttery buddies.

Rain beat against the windows like an army of furious drummers. Delsin and Eugene should have been back by now—the fact that they weren’t was beginning to make her worry.

Not that she would admit it.

Just as she was debating on calling them, a loud thump against the door made her startle and almost drop the plate of finished pancakes she was holding. The plate was deposited on the table, and without conscious thought, a small charge of hot neon collected in the palm of her hand.

“Delsin, hurry! The bags are about to slip out of my hands!”

Another thump and a jangle of keys, then a swear. “Wait, wait, aaaand okay!” The lock clicked. “Finally got the right one.”

Fetch let out a relieved sigh, slumping against the counter. The neon in her palm dissipated into pink and purple vapors. Hearing the two voices she was intimately familiar with was like a balm that eased the sudden tension that had collected in her arms and shoulders. With the three of them being high-profile conduits, they could never be too careful with how the DUP just wouldn’t disappear. Too many close calls…

First came in Delsin—it took all of Fetch’s will not to burst out laughing—looking like he drowned in a river. His beanie was so weighed down with water than he had to keep adjusting his eyebrows so the bottom of it would stop falling in his eyes. Bending over to set down the groceries, his rain jacket appeared to vomit the water that was left on it on the floor. His jeans were no better, looking like a second skin. (Not that she was complaining.)

Next was Eugene, not looking better in any way, shape, or form. The poor water-logged angel looked so uncomfortable that Fetch just wanted to give him a hug. He looked only marginally better after setting down the groceries he was carrying. Despite that, from the way he was wincing every time he took his step—and from the distinct squish she kept hearing—Fetch was sure that he had his own personal pond in each of his boots.

“Sorry about the mess, Fetch,” Eugene looked sheepish as he wrenched off his rain boots with only minor difficulty. “It’s, ahh, such a disaster out there, you know? And we just wanted to, uh, just hurry up and get home.”

Any other day, she would be cross at them for all the water all over the floor, but given the utter mess that was outside, it wasn’t a big deal. At least it’s not mud, she thought.

“No biggie,” she said as she grabbed the groceries to start putting them away. “It’s biblical outside, Genie, so I’d be more surprised if you two didn’t come home looking like two Aquamen.” (1)

Delsin took this as an opportunity to add, “I don’t know, Fetch,” he grinned as he poked Eugene’s bicep, “our angel’s been getting pretty fit here. These arms of steel weren’t here last time we checked.”

The blush she caught on her skinny boyfriend’s face before he ducked his head, along with his shy giggle, made her smile. After being with her and Delsin for so long, Eugene had expressed a desire to work on his body. Although still quite thin, light jogging and some basic exercises a few times a week had begun improving his body tone. Being compared to such a fit superhero made the gamer acknowledge his own hard work and progress.

“Y-You guys are too much,” was all he could say.

Fetch hummed, throwing a pointed glance to the kitchen. “Weeell, I guess if I’m just too much, then I probably shouldn’t share these pancakes I made, should I?”

As soon as the word ‘pancakes’ was uttered, a blonde head snapped to attention as its owner shuffled in placed like an excited kid. “Wait, wait, wait!” He cleared his throat, trying not to look as excited as he felt. “I mean, you don’t, you know, have to just take them a-all for yourself. Yeah, we, uh, D-Delsin! Delsin and I are, are more than willing to share. Right, Delsin?”

“Oh yeah, more than willing,” he humored Eugene. Only way to get their introvert this excited was videogames and good food. The option for right now was good food.

She snorted. “Go get dried off, you two. We can clean up the water after we eat.”

With that, her two boys scurried off faster than she thought was necessary, but hey, food made almost anyone get their asses in gear. Once she heard the rattle of the shower pipes kick themselves alive, she meandered back into the kitchen to the buttery stack of goodness. The more she stared at the food, the more she thought it needed something. Just something. The restlessness that had been present for a while made a comeback, neon practically squirming underneath her skin to get out—and that’s when she realized what it needed.

A quick look over her shoulder and she channeled her energy into her fingertips. If anyone else were present, they would have probably warned her against what she was about to do, especially considering the evidence of the last two incidents. But, hell, she wasn’t just anyone. Unlike Tweedledee and Tweedledum with their energy all over the place, she was a sniper. She was precise, exact, and could do exactly what she needed to do.

No more, no less.

The release of energy from her fingertips felt wonderful, even if it wasn’t as much as her body needed. What she needed was a long circuit around the city, zipping around buildings and highways, but it was satisfactory. A curve here, a streak there. A little more heat in this spot, and a little less in another spot. Before she knew it, the image she had in her head was translated on the stack of pancakes, smiling back at her and shimmering with a pleasant blue and purple.

“Alright,” she took in her work. “That’s that. Just gotta wait for the boys.” A glance down at her batter-flecked clothes told her she had to do something else, however. “Right after I get outta these leggings and shirt.”

After going to the bedroom, she shucked her dirtied clothes in the hamper in the corner—it bounced off the mound peeking erupting from the rim and fell to the floor—before moving to the closet. Nice blouse, nicer blouse, hoodie that was too warm for now, Eugene’s ratty hoodie, Delsin’s favorite white hoodie, three of Delsin’s flannel shirts, several of Eugene’s comic t-shirts, and—there it was. It took a bit, but she finally found her cozy t-shirt among all the Delsin’s and Eugene’s things. Surprisingly, all that was in the closet other than hoodies were only a few shirts and pants.

Damn, they really needed to do laundry…

Luck was on her side today as she was able to find a (only slightly wrinkly) pair of shorts that had been smushed in the corner of one of the dresser drawers. Once pulled on, she gave the drawer, and its companions, a long look. A lone, strangled sock wanted freedom from the drawer it was peeking out of. Yeah, she thought, I think we really need to clean and organize in here.

“Hey, uh, Fetch?” She heard Delsin call from the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

There was a hesitant pause before, “What’s up with these pancakes?”

Fetch’s frowned in confusion, pulling her new clean shirt over her head as she exited the bedroom. Delsin’s voice sounded more perplexed than it did interested. Rounding the corner, she could see him and Eugene at the table staring at the glowing stack in front of them.

“I like your doodle, i-it’s really cute,” Eugene gave her a shy compliment. “But did you, um, did you add food dye or something to the pancakes?”

It was this question that made her look more closely at the pancakes she made. The first thing she noticed was the neon doodle she made of Delsin and Eugene, Del in the purple and Gene in the blue. The perplexing observation, on the other hand, was the fact that the pancakes had turned an odd swirl of her signature pink, purples, and blues. They looked tie-dyed with food coloring.

Well, that wasn’t normal.

“…I swear it wasn’t like that when I made them,” she muttered. She glanced at the fork in Eugene’s hand before plucking from his person, ignoring his ‘hey!’. “Time to see if they’re still edible,” she remarked a little too casually as she popped a piece in her mouth. Delsin and Eugene’s protesting cries were just a hair too late.

If she died from being poisoned by her own neon, then she was going to haunt these two out of pure spite.

It was a tense moment in the room as her boyfriends stared at her with wide eyes, searching for the littlest detail that she might be dying. Such wonderful guys, she snickered to herself. If I keel over, least I know they got me.

“So, hey,” she announced with the necessity of a severe cold, “I’m not dead. Food’s not gonna kill you, so you should eat.” Their breaths of relief shouldn’t have been this amusing.

After nabbing a new fork from the drawer for Eugene, Delsin slumped on the table. His own fork was pointed at her in warning. “Christ, Fetch! I swear, you’re going to kill us one of these days. If it’s not from stress, it’s going to be from something else, God.” He did take a moment to lean over and kiss her, which she appreciated. “But, anyway, thanks again.”

Mouth full of pancake, Eugene couldn’t help himself. “But how did you not make the food b-blow up or something?” (She was fluent in Full Mouth-ese.) Desperation for an answer shouldn’t have been this funny.

She laughed before kissing his temple as his mouth was too syrupy at the moment. “Guess I just got that skill, ya know?” The neon decorating really should have been a big no-no, because it gave her all the more reason to brag about how much better she was at using her powers with food.

The side effect of the food turning colors depending on the neon, however, was not left unteased.

Published: 1/5/19

(1) Jason Momoa’s portrayal of Aquaman. If you don’t know, look him up because he’s very Beefy

#infamous second son #delgenetch #fetch #abigail fetch walker #fetch walker #abigail walker #delsin rowe #eugene sims #my fics #powers and food don't mix #food #infamous

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zenith-is-a-titan · 5 years

Text

Collector

((Posting here from long time ago cuz sad boy hours. Set after Red War.))

Summary: After the Red War, guardians stepped up to go search for MIA people and guardians. Most of the time all they find is remaining bits of torn marks, cloaks, or bonds. Still, they return them to the fireteam dutifully. Zenith, a titan, chooses to help out and become a "Collector."

“Titan! Hold up!”

Zenith froze mid step. There was only one reason why someone would come up to him with such urgency not even knowing his name. Still, he turned slowly and looked at the rushing Warlock coming to him. She was two heads shorter than him and her hair was pulled back into a messy bun. The bags under her eyes told him she hadn’t slept in a while which was scarily common nowadays.

“What can I do for you?” He asked already knowing the answer.

“You’re one of them right? A Collector?”

He hated that word. Collector. It made his job seem so much more pleasant. Still, he didn’t correct her. “Yes. What would you like me to search for?” Straight to the point. It was easier that way.

“M-My friend...She...We were separated during the evacuation. She’s a hunter. My height. Light brown eyes. W-White...white hair…” The Warlock teared up at the memory and covered her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Zenith nodded and placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Take your time.”

“Her...Her cloak had her name sewn in it. She always lost it...Please...Find her for me. Or...Something. Please.” The Warlock was nearly in hysterics and Zenith nodded once more.

“I will do my best.”

“Thank you! Thank you! I don’t have much but if you find anything I’ll-” Zenith stopped her with a shake of his head. “That is not necessary. I do not require any payment.”

The Warlock looked like she wanted to argue, but nodded instead. “Okay...Thank you…”

The looking was the hardest part. Zenith looked from sun up to sun down most days. From evacuation routes to dirt trails. Hell, even animal tracks. All for the chance to find something. Anything to give closure to those who wait. Some days he goes home with new for 3 fireteams or more. Sometimes with nothing at all. Through the quiet moments where he trudges through muddy terfs, he thinks.

Zenith was lucky. He came out of the Red War with all of his fireteam. Even if Gid...Even if He wasn’t with the fireteam anymore. That was a lot more than he could say for a lot of people. And those nights at the farm where there were just too many wounded and not enough parts to go around...Zenith shivered at the thought and continued looking. As he looked, he searched for spare parts he could take back to the tower for the wounded. He also might find a usable voice box for River. While she took to sign language like a duck to water, Zenith knew she’d appreciate one less reminder of what happened.

It was when he happened upon a fallen tree that his search gained traction. Stuck to the bark war a knife. And to that knife was a ripped piece of a cloak. Removing the knife, he examined the cloth. It was small, but he could see threads making out a word. Abigail. The Warlock had told him the hunter’s name and that it was sewn into the cloak. He was close. This was left here on purpose.

He continued walking, staying close to the rock wall until it broke off into a large cavern. If a hunter was leaving clues, they wouldn’t stray far from them. So, Zenith headed inside. Kyo lit the way for him as he walked. Water dripped from the ceiling and echoed across the cavern.

“Abigail? Abigail!” Zenith called out.

Suddenly, Kyo gasped. “I can feel something! Another Ghost! There’s someone here!” Up Ahead!”

Zenith doubled his efforts and quickened his pace. Just as his ghost said, there was someone there. A human. A hunter. Laying with their cloak wrapped tightly around themselves. Shivering. Suffering. Just then, a light shot up and blinded the Titan momentarily.

“Ah! Get away from her! Get away!” The ghost said floating in front of her guardian.

“Wait! We’re here to rescue you! Is she Abigail?” Kyo asked worriedly.

The other ghost gave a sceptical look before turning to her guardian. “I felt the light returning...but by then it was too late. She’s been rationing her food and making it stretch the best she can, but...I can’t even reach any frequencies to send an SOS. She ran out of rations two days ago. Please...Help her.”

Zenith nodded and put away his weapon. He walked over to the shivering girl and easily picked her up. The way she curled closer to his body heat reminded him of how he did the same to Aiona when he was first revived. “How far is a clearing?”

“A 5 minute jog at most. I’m sending a report now to have medics ready to take her at the tower.” Kyo said.

Zenith turned a 5 minute job into a 3 minute one quickly but made sure not to jar Abigail too much. The ride to the Tower was deadly silent.

As promised, there were three medics waiting at the hangar with a gurney ready for their return. A crowd of guardians had gathered to see who would be returning. Right at the front was the Warlock.

Zenith walked down the boarding ramp of his ship with Abigail held tightly to his chest. Ever so gently he laid her down on the gurney and helped the medics spread a shock blanket over her.

“Abby!” The Warlock cried out as she ran over. But the medics were already speeding away. She watched as Abigail was wheeled away before pulling Zenith into a hug. For someone so small she sure had a strong grip. “You saved my Abby! Thank you!”

“No thanks needed.” Zenith assured giving her a firm squeeze in return.

“If you need anything please just-”

“No. Thank you...But no. You should go to her. She’ll need you. But here,” Zenith took out the knife and the strip of cloak and handed them to her. “She will need this back.”

The Warlock looked ready to burst into tears but nodded as she held the cloth close. “Traveler bless you, Collector.” Were her parting words as she took off after her friend.

Those are the good days. But they are very few and very far between.

Most days Zenith doesn’t even have a body to return. Sometimes it’s a gun or a ripped piece of cloth with a name. Rarely he gets a hug. Mostly he gets lucky to get a second glance. But every single one of them call him by that name Collector.

Every morning he wakes up with a heavy heart. Forces himself to eat breakfast. And tells himself he’s lucky. He has everyone. Everyone lived. Gid...HE was okay out there.

Aiona catches him one day with his legs dangling from the tower’s edge.

“Aren’t gonna jump are ya?” It’s supposed to be joking but it burns Zenith to know there’s actual suspicion in those words.

“No…”

“You don’t have to do this you know.” Zenith doesn’t even need to ask for clarification on what she means.

“I do.”

“Why...Why must you hurt yourself?”

“I am lucky, Aiona. Everyone turned out okay. Even Gid-...Him. The least I can do is give others closure.” He said looking down at the long long drop. “Even if it hurts.”

“You’ve helped enough. You can quit…”

“You know I cannot. We are stretched thin as it is. I can do this.”

“You don’t need to punish yourself.”

Zenith didn’t answer that time. Aiona sighed. “At least...at least take a break tonight. We can relax and sleep in for once. Just one day. For me?”

He couldn’t say no. Because in another universe she wouldn’t be here to even ask. “Okay. But I have to make a delivery first.”

That night, he delivers a Mark stored in a glass case to two guardians...and a child. Two guardians who now have to explain to a little boy why Daddy isn’t coming home. Zenith hates himself for giving it to them. But he knows that’s what they need. Closure.

One of them sobs on the spot as soon as they see him walking towards them. Probably hoping he’ll turn away. Or realize it’s a mistake. The Titan takes the case from him without a word. She hugs it to her chest with a force that makes Zenith think it might shatter. It doesn’t. And the Titan turns to the little boy. He doesn’t know what it is. Only that it makes people sad. But as he looks down through the glass, Zenith can see a bit of recognition in his eyes. “Daddy…”

Zenith turns away and forces himself to walk home. He doesn’t eat dinner that night. Barely sleeps either. But he lets Aiona rest her head in his lap anyway. Because she needs closure too.

There were so many people she must have known before Zenith. How many of them didn’t come back after the war? He forces himself not to think about it.

Zenith awoke later on to something small colliding with his chest and the sound of River screaming. He bolted up right to see her tiny ghost staring at him, chittering franticly as she zoomed out of the room and back in. She couldn't calm the exo was the only thing the awoken could think of. He charged out of his room, Aiona's door opening the same time as he shot past it.

"Zee whats happening?" Aiona asked, eyes wide with confusion. Earning no response from the Titan she quickly followed Zenith into River’s room. It was bad one this time. No that they weren’t all bad, but this time River was thrashing in her sheets as if in a desperate attempt to fight off an unseen enemy. The Exo’s claws ripping long gashes into the cloth.

Aiona and Zenith watched in utter horror they realized River was still asleep, her screaming starting to fill up with distortion and static. Zenith lept into action, managing to grab one of the exo's flailing arms. What he didn't expect was the still free one to slash him across the face. Small droplets of blood landed on River as Zenith nearly shouted as pain blossomed on his cheek. River's eyes blinked on. Her screaming was replaced with a startled gasp and frantic breathing. Confusion seemed to fill her facial plates as she proceeded what had just happened. It was the four small but jugged lines that made River realise what she'd done.

Zenith didn’t hold it against her though. She was young and traumatized. She didn’t know any better. And if he refused to let Kyo heal the scratches right after then that was his business. He couldn’t help it. Part of him hated the fact that he couldn’t give her closure.

Still though, tomorrow is another day. Another day of tears. Another day of forcing himself to eat breakfast. Another day of being a Collector...

#destiny oc #destiny the game #destiny 2 oc #my oc #zenith #Zenith Valerus #My story #titan #Titan: Zenith

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kimishima-naomi · 7 years

Text

Elysium

Dennis Taylor is the first one to appear, stepping out of the shadows in the hospital ward as if he was biding his time.

“Nice shooting there, doc,” and it takes her a moment to understand what he’s referring to. “I wonder if Teddy could have used someone like you. Though you don’t seem the type to get mixed up with dope.”

It’s not the white shirt he’s wearing – it’s the red t-shirt his friend had mentioned, and Naomi thinks idly about the ghosts’ choice of attire.

“Aren’t you wondering why I came here? Well, shit, truth be told I don’t know myself. Though I’m still kinda pissed about boys in blue rifling through my underwear drawer. Anyway, you’ve got more visitors coming, so stick around. Thanks for catching the psycho who stabbed me, by the way. Shoulda shot his balls off. Drugs is drugs, but wet work? Hell no, I’m clean.”

He lingers in the faint moonlight coming through the window and only slinks off when Veronica appears by her side. Dead she may be, but she bears traces of that liveliness Naomi had only seen in her picture.

“…I wonder sometimes if you should have just let sleeping dogs lie, doctor.” Her voice is quiet and sorrowful. “My parents… they really don’t deserve something like this. Please tell me the judge is going to go easy on them.”

Naomi doesn’t have the strength to speak, but she won’t agree. Locking their own child in her room like this, letting her die alone, trying to pretend everything was normal… no, that wasn’t something she could forgive.

“I’ve been… horrible to them, myself, but I couldn’t help it. This disease has really hurt everyone involved, hasn’t it? My parents and me… and now you. I hope there won’t be any more victims.”

Her hand brushes against Naomi’s, and the doctor can swear she feels a warm touch – the dead girl seems more alive than she herself is, now.

“I don’t know if they’ve forgiven me, now, but I can’t forget it yet. I just…” her voice breaks in a sob. “I just w-wanted my mom to hold me…”

With what little strength she can muster, Naomi closes her fingers around Veronica’s – but it’s on thin air.

“Thanks for bringing closure to us, Naomi.” Abigail walks in next, and Naomi recalls she was the first one to be killed. “Well, as much as it can be called closure. Mother was always religious – dad used to make fun of it, gently – but never something crazy like this. …It wasn’t really her, was it?”

Naomi shakes her head slightly.

“Good. I know, brain damage can really mess people up, but I’d have never thought… At least it was out of love. I was a late child – they weren’t blessed with kids, you see, and they’d stopped trying – until I was born. They always doted on me… It’s a shame it ended like this. I didn’t think my dad would outlive us. Naomi, I know it’s a lot of me to ask, but – can you keep an eye on Joseph? If regulations allow, of course…”

She promises to herself that she will – if she lives long enough.

“…Oh dear.” Alma’s voice is instantly familiar, even if she’s only heard it through her phone. “I wish I could help you in some way. Hospitals are terrible places to be in. I would visit you if I could.”

She is, indeed, the doting grandmother Naomi expected her to be, and it makes it even the more painful to imagine how she stabbed that stake through Abigail’s body.

“You look frightened. I’m so sorry.” She sits down on the hospital bed, and the mattress shifts under her weight. “How could I ever do something like this to my Abby… She forgave me, and I only hope Joseph does, too. …I don’t think he’s long for this world without us.”

Neither am I, Naomi thinks to herself – but Alma looks at her with gentle reproach.

“No, Miss. It isn’t your time yet. I have faith in the skills of the doctors here – don’t you?”

She does, but they couldn’t stop certain death.

“A lot of people are hoping that you’ll live through this. Please, stay strong for their sake.” Alma stands up, but then adds solemnly: “But, if you can’t, I understand. I will welcome you to the other side then.”

Aidan Posner is unmistakable, with his Hollywood smile and purposely ruffled hair. Then, it’s just the victims she handled personally? Makes sense.

“I hoped I’d leave a handsome corpse. Shame I went like this – a beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have to deal with burned remains. …Sorry, force of habit. Flirting is what fans loved, even if Melissa was always saying I’d put myself at danger. I hope she finds a new job soon; she’s a great manager.”

He’s the most restless of them all, pacing the room in the moonlight. What was he like on a tennis court?

“Thank you for stopping the Raging Bomber, Doctor Kimishima. You did what the rest of the FBI couldn’t. If not for you, there would have been a lot more victims.”

Still, she blames herself.

Eldred isn’t someone she wants to see, and they both know it.

“…Well, you know what? I don’t regret it.” The way he says it, she wonders if he’s convincing himself too. “Money was tight, I couldn’t have paid my college off on my own… if I gotta be the one to make a few prank calls, hell yeah. Shame I got cocky, but hey, the guitar was a legend. If you’d appreciated music like I do, you’d know how hot it was to trace her neck with my fingers. But here’s the thing with legends – they don’t last, do they? I went out in a blaze of glory. Worth it!”

Eldred departs just as hastily. She hopes that Sartre will be next.

But it’s the all too familiar figure with the wild mane of red hair that perches on the windowsill, and Naomi’s heart races.

“Naomi Kimishima. Didn’t think we’d meet again.” Lieberman sounds different somehow, though. “Oh, don’t be afraid. It wasn’t me that you’ve met.”

She remembers now – she can remember it all, vividly – the way Sandra’s voice changed just before Rosalia virus sank its talons into her.

“If it makes a difference, I admired your work. It’s a shame that I wasn’t of the right mind. Who knows, we may have yet worked together. …But these aren’t the words you expect from me, are they? Well, I don’t think there is anything I could say now. There isn’t a chance for me to make amends, Doctor Kimishima. What about you?”

How do you – how could you know?!

“It’s something you said in the airport, Doctor – you said you had to atone. I wonder… but it’s not my place to inquire. Whatever it is you blame yourself for, a mind like yours deserves to keep existing. Honestly, twisted as it is of me to think, I regret that I couldn’t truly clash wits with you. You’ve solved better puzzles than four pathetic riddles.”

She jumps down, landing with a faint echo of a sound.

“Rosalia – that’s what the presence that’s plagued my mind called itself. It screamed out its name until it drowned out my voice. I was hoping you’d stop it, Doctor, and you did! Bravo. It would be a shame if you conceded defeat now. You’ve gone all in; don’t fold your cards yet.”

She’s standing close now, and Naomi thinks she can feel that particular smell that she remembers from Sandra’s room – black powder, mixed with floral perfume.

“May I?” Naomi nods weakly, and Sandra’s incorporeal hand briefly clutches her own in an imitation of a handshake. “Well played, Naomi Kimishima – I’ll spare you the nickname. Until we meet again… and it better not be soon.”

Sartre takes a long while to speak after he appears. His head is bowed, dark hair obscuring his face. Something in him reminds her of CR-S01. They may not be related by blood, but, when it comes to medicine, they have the same kind of obsession.

“I… am sorry.”

I know.

“If only there was something I could change now… This monster consumed my life. My children. Rose… she’s dead, and Erhard… how could I ever be this callous? Please, Doctor Kimishima… you know the truth now. You have to save him. He is innocent. Give him back the life I took from him.”

He pleads, but it’s futile. If it isn’t Rosalia that claims her life, it will be GUILT.

“You are in good hands, Doctor. Erhard is one of the most talented surgeons to ever exist. Please-!”

And his speech breaks into hasty French, pleading something with her, reiterating her name again and again, almost crying. She wonders why anyone would care.

The ward is slowly getting lighter – it must be dawn. Albert runs out of words eventually, and stands next to her bed with face buried in hands before finally turning on his heels and making his way out of the ward – do ghosts really need a way out? – his footsteps unsteady and shoulders hunched, weighed down by his grief.

It’s no surprise when Rosalia appears, and Naomi manages a smile for a girl she knows so well despite not meeting her.

But Rose doesn’t speak. She takes a seat on the hospital bed as well, but she sits quietly, thin shoulders rising with breaths she doesn’t need to take. Still, her presence is welcome.

Then again, there isn’t anything to say between them. The girl had been there in spirit, and she knows everything. Maria’s breakdown over her body. The frantic search for the cure. Naomi collapsing in exhaustion on the couch that was once Sartre’s and Holden finding an old blanket for her to wrap around herself.

Rosalia probably knows more than Naomi herself does. Her own memory cuts off from her collapsing in the hospital corridor, alone. This has to be a hospital ward – but how long has it been? Is this reality, and is she alive herself, with the dead walking in and out of her consciousness?

The sun rises high enough for her to make out the ward, in grayscale, right down to the equipment by her bed and a plant in the corner – but she can’t distinguish her own body under the covers, or find enough strength to toss them off herself. What kind of existence is this?

Why are you here, Rosalia? I’d thought you passed on when you got your closure. Are you here to ferry me across the Styx?

Still she doesn’t move, fingers gripping the hem of the blanket tight, looking at her pleadingly.

The sun keeps rising – and soon the ward is washed in golden light of dawn. In the sun, the unreality of the spirit is now apparent, rays passing through her to leave no shadow.

Naomi closes her eyes and focuses on her own breathing – faint to the point she can barely feel it.

The ghosts right now feel more real than the living to her. Still – she forces herself to remember: Derek, Angie, Kenneth, Little Guy, Gabe, Tomoe, Hank, Maria, CR – or Erhard… Alyssa…

She forces herself to take a deep breath.

A hollow pain wreaks her chest immediately, so bad that she bites down on her lips; but the pain is real, at least, it means she’s alive, and Naomi can feel her heart beating on.

She has to live, she has to keep living.

She’s close to passing out from the pain – the heart monitor by her side is sounding in alarm – but she opens her eyes.

Rosalia stands up slowly, a smile of relief on her face, and Naomi sees her fading with daylight.

And when she wakes up again, the ward is bright –

“…You’re awake. How do you feel?”

– and Tomoe is waiting by her side.

#trauma center #trauma team #fanfic #naomi kimishima

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elfnerdherder · 7 years

Text

Magnum Opus: Chapter 24

You can reach Chapter 24 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 24:

He slept, but he did not sleep. It came in blurred images, shifts between dreams and muted realities so that they blended to an unrecognizable nightmare.

“Where am I…?”

“I found you outside, you collapsed. You’re running a fever, Will. What’s happened?”

Hands passed over arms, legs, wrists, feeling, touching, caressing. Blood spattered across a concrete floor, and Charlie cried in agonizing horror, begging to let it end, begging to let it…

“Stop lying, j-just stop lying to me, please!” Begging. Hands grasping, gripping, kneading against threads that hold and do not break, arms that ensnare and do not let him get away. A blue light flashes, flashes. With each flash he is farther gone, and he cries, teeth gritted against the ache that builds just at his temples, screaming for release, clawing for the small bit of relief, just one more dose of pain medicine, just one more to keep it away…

The feeling of falling, falling, falling, though there is no ground to fall to, no place where he will land. An eternity of darkness gives chase, suffocates him until every last drop of breath is gone.

“You’re in a safe place. You’re safe. When you close your eyes, you will feel calmness, serenity. No harm can come to you here.”

Nicholas Boyle does not lunge, does not fight. He is terrified –why? Reaching for him but he’s dead, he’s gaping open in the air, and the kisses taste like triumph, a bitter, ugly victory.

“You’re going into shock. I can help with that.”

No, no, no, no, no…

Jared Freeman speaks through him, and he sees it is not his skin anymore, but a patchwork quilt of all those he’s tainted, ruined. He’s running, sprinting, but someone stops, reaches palm to palm in holy palmer’s kiss. It’s not enough –it’s a lie. He lifts the gun and shoots, and it’ll be over soon, it’ll be over soon.

“I killed him, I feel like I killed him, oh my god –what am I? What am I?”

The cold, the snow, the headlights. He’s drowning on air, but he sees everyone is breathing fine. The ravenstag impales him, and it takes the hit of the car, harming him but ultimately saving his life in the process. He goes flying, and as he lays in the dark, dark forest, he passes hands over his wounds, thinking that if this is how he’s going to go, at least no one had to see him fall.

“Will?” Abigail asked, and Will opened his eyes. He was in Abigail’s bed at the institute, the short distance between them shared by the quiet whisper of his name. He stared at her face, features sharp in the muted light, and he reached up, brushing away a stray hair. She allowed the touch, although her gaze narrowed when he shivered.

“I don’t know how I got here,” he confessed, and he pressed his head to the pillow to ease the pounding in his skull.

“You came in through the same window I sneak out of,” she replied. He thought that it would be appropriate to sit up, to put distance between them and what Abigail was capable of, but every inch of him ached, and breathing was too difficult. He lay on top of the covers with her underneath, her hands placed under her head as a prop. It was alright to lay still for a little while; it was alright.

“Did you sneak out after last time?” he asked when he could speak again.

“Only once,” said Abigail. Her eyes traced his face, and she inhaled sharply, finding something awful there.

“To see Hannibal?”

“It’s not always to see Hannibal. Sometimes to just sit in the park you and I sat at, once. Before everything fell apart.” Will knew the park. He nodded, and he was there between Alana and Abigail, staring at the vast expanse of a world that got along far better than he could. Things were better then. Tentatively grasping, but at least he had a hold. Something tainted the park, though, something with nothing but a black abyss for eyes and antlers stained with blood. The memory was no good, and he shook his head rapidly, whining low in his throat.

“I feel like I’m drowning, Abigail,” he said quietly. “And I’m losing what little grasp I had over myself.”

“Do you think you’re my dad?” The question was presented with wide eyes. She froze, and he thought of the first time Hannibal had cornered him, how he’d frozen as well –no one liked to talk about the prey that froze. No one liked to talk about the prey that knew no matter what they did, they were trapped. It was to acknowledge that sometimes, fighting or fleeing didn’t work, the same way that freezing didn’t work. Sometimes, one was trapped before they ever even began.

“I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t understand what I’m capable of…I’m bleeding into the skins of people I’ve never even met.”

“Not a skin that hates me, though?” she asked.

“Not even close,” Will promised. Abigail nodded, and the tension left her shoulders. They were two secrets compressed on a small twin bed in a psychiatric institute, and for the moment, the world was holding its breath.

“Hannibal said you’re having a hard time,” she informed him when he didn’t say anything else. He swallowed heavily and nodded.

“I am,” he agreed. Hannibal, Hannibal; there was something about Hannibal.

“You look like you have a fever,”

“I do.”

“Why did you come here, then?” She blinked slowly, languidly at him. Will laughed, a hiss of air between his clenched teeth.

“You’re the only thing that I have left,” he said. “Isn’t that sad?”

“A little,” she said, and they shared a smile, one of savagery and horror alike, like they could somehow make it better if they suffered together. That was the truth for survivors, though, and that’s what they were. Will just wanted to know when he could finally stop living like it, when he would finally stop seeing the monster in the mirror.

“I think maybe I should check into a hospital,” he said, and she nodded.

“You look like you should check into a hospital.”

“I won’t stay the night, don’t worry. I don’t want you to get into trouble. They’ll think I’m taking advantage of you.” Abigail snickered at that, her eyes rolling dramatically.

“Hannibal told me that the two of you were lovers,” Abigail revealed, and even she seemed shocked by her words. Her hands moved to cover her mouth, like she could somehow reel them back in, and Will was horrified to discover the emotion underlying his reaction wasn’t disgust or discomfort, but a steady pulse of pleasure. Was that the thing about Hannibal? They were lovers? Hannibal said they were exclusive? God, he couldn’t even remember something as important as that anymore.

“Is that what he said?”

“Is it true?” she pressed. He shook his head, mouth gaping to try and find the words.

“I don’t know what we are. I don’t feel like I know anything anymore, at least; not enough to answer with conviction.”

“But you long for him,” Abigail said, and it appeared that whatever expression was on Will’s face, it was enough for her. “You want to be with him right now.”

“I do,” Will said quietly. “But I’m afraid.”

“What are you so scared of?” she asked. “What does Will Graham have to fear above all else?”

“What if I’m not enough? What if in the end…I destroy myself?” Abigail reached out, and she pressed her palm to his heartbeat, staring at it intently. She glanced up at Will, and she smiled gently.

“You survived me,” she said, and that was all that Will needed to hear. He grabbed his coat, and he snuck through the window, ignoring the biting chill of the late night, as it protested his presence. Short, curt puffs of air billowed from his lips, and he climbed into his truck, firing it up. He blinked, and frantic, trembling hands shook as it steered him towards freedom, towards safety. He blinked again, and he was driving with a steady grip, heading towards a house he’d driven to for many times before. When he reached it, he put it in park and strode towards the door, knocking on it with short, heavy bursts, his fingers tapping and drumming against his pant leg erratically.

When Hannibal opened the door, expression guarded, Will did not hesitate. He threw his arms around his neck and kissed him, all of his fear, his rage, and his confusion melting away, leaving nothing but the taste of his lips and the heat that radiated off of him in intoxicating waves. Hannibal was surprised for only a moment. When he realized who it was, he dropped something with a clatter and grasped at the door, yanking it closed against the cold as he hungrily moved his lips against Will’s. There was a fumbling of hands, of teeth that crashed against one another as they pressed too close. There were no words; words were long since burned away, nothing but a primal, dark need to devour, to consume.

Will pressed him against the wall in the hallway and dragged his tongue over Hannibal’s lips, hands roving over his chest, his shoulders, and along his neck. He tangled his fingers in his hair, and he dragged his teeth along his lips, needing. Wanting. Hannibal groaned, a low rumble in the back of his throat, and he pushed back, slamming Will against the opposite wall as his body slid along his, thigh pressed taut between his legs. Will was trapped from knee to chest, unable to do anything but let out a low, agonized groan as Hannibal undid the snaps to his coat, yanking it off of him and throwing it to the ground, his breath smooth and even despite the way his heart thundered against him as he rubbed his thigh against his growing desire.

Will wasn’t quite sure how they managed to get from the hallway to the bedroom; everything was a blur of clothes, of teeth on pleading skin, of pauses between fumbling footsteps as they stopped to steal another taste. Will found himself on his back on Hannibal’s bed, Hannibal sliding along his body sensually, slowly. His hips pressed to Will’s, acknowledging his arousal with a teasing pressure, and his gasp was swallowed up as Hannibal pressed a lazy, deep kiss to his lips. Will was drunk off of it, and as Hannibal paused, poised above him, he opened his eyes and stared, meeting his gaze without hesitation.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Hannibal asked, his voice gravel. He let go of Will’s side to reach up and slide his fingers over his cheek.

“I haven’t been this much in control of myself for a long time,” he replied, and he grabbed Hannibal by the back of his head, pulling him down for another spine-tingling kiss that left him reeling, stars behind his eyelids as Hannibal showed him just how much he wanted to consume him.

He woke late; laziness was a drug that’d soaked into his skin and left him sunk into the pillows and blankets piled about him with languid bliss. Sunlight spilled across the bottom of the bed, and Will opened heavy-lidded eyes to study the slant of it, a sleepy groan passing his lips. He rubbed his head and considered sitting up, but the effort was too much. His thumb brushed along his bottom lip, and he could still taste Hannibal’s skin. At the thought of it, he smiled ever-so-slightly and arched his back, rolling over to press his face to the pillow.

Just at the edge of the bed, Charlie Yorkman watched without eyes.

When he found it in himself to get up, he debated taking a shower, but he tossed that idea aside. For the first time in a quite some time, he felt that his skin was his own, and he could still feel every inch of it that’d been touched. He didn’t want to ruin it. He nudged his feet into his jeans that were discarded by the bedroom door, then found his shirt in the hallway about halfway down. Part of him wondered where Hannibal was, and if he minded the mess of clothes strewn about –he decided it wasn’t important. He followed the scent of cooking meat, and he found Hannibal poised over the stove in the kitchen, making breakfast.

“Good morning,” he said, ducking his head. He couldn’t quite meet his gaze, somehow sheepish now that he was wearing yesterday’s clothes. Hannibal looked up, studying from head to toe before he smiled.

“Good morning, Will,” he said lightly. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” Will walked closer and paused, keeping the island between them. “I’m…sorry for bursting in like that.”

“On the contrary, I found it rather pleasant,” Hannibal said, adding a pinch of salt over whatever was in the pan. “When you surprise me in the future, it should be more along those lines rather than lost time and disappearances that result in my almost calling Agent Crawford.”

“What?”

“Do you remember your visit to my home just two days ago?” Hannibal looked back down to his work, elegant fingers dancing over the minced and chopped herbs and onions.

“…No.” Will’s neck grew hot, and he gripped the counter top.

“You collapsed in my front yard Tuesday afternoon, and by the time I found you, you’d been unconscious for some time. I was able to regulate your temperature and lower the fever, but you became erratic upon waking. You left despite my protests, and I didn’t hear from you Wednesday or Thursday.”

“…What’s today?” Will asked hollowly.

“Friday morning.”

“…Oh,” he said, and that’s all that he could say. His fingers pawed at his phone and opened it, but there were no messages or missed calls from his father or Jack. He looked at the text messages, but the last one was from Beverly on Tuesday, confirming homework. He shut the phone with a snap and set it on the counter, nodding.

“I lost time,” he informed Hannibal. Hannibal nodded gravely.

“You lost time.” He stirred a few things around in the skillet and frowned down at it, like it could solve his problem. Will sat down on one of the stools, and his fingers dug into the cushion of it, like it could rip it in two with will alone. His rear twinged with a pleasant sort of ache, distracting.

“I remember waking up at a crime scene…I thought I’d killed them.”

“Is that what you last remember?” Hannibal asked.

“That’s why I came here,” Will said slowly. “I don’t remember going to the crime scene, I don’t remember…” He stopped. Started again. “Someone murdered Charlie.”

Saying it made it real. He leaned across the island and buried his face in his hands, fingertips pressed roughly to his eyes to stop the tears that threatened to fall. His eyelids burned, coals against his retinas, and he shuddered.

S-stop lying –please stop lying to me!

You’ve had a seizure…

“That was the crime scene he took you to?” Hannibal asked. He stopped cooking and walked around the counter, grabbing Will’s shoulders gently. “You don’t remember going?”

“I’d have said no; I don’t remember ever saying yes,” Will whispered. He allowed himself to be turned, and he lifted his head to look up at Hannibal, teeth gritted together tightly.

“My condolences, Will.” Hannibal said, squeezing his shoulders tightly. “I know he meant something to you.”

“When I came to… I felt like I’m the one that killed him,” he confessed, and he reached up to grab Hannibal’s hand tightly. “Anyone that gets too close to me becomes endangered. What if that’s what I’m doing when I lose time? I don’t know the Will that’s Will when I lose time. I feel like I’m drowning on air, like I’m forcing myself under, and I…I can’t fathom what it is I do when I can’t remember. What if I’m-”

“The one that’s killing them?” Hannibal suggested. It stopped Will cold, and as he stared at Hannibal, a calm, light glow from the window outlined him. It was ethereal, peaceful. Will swallowed heavily and looked down, blinking rapidly.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that I should see a medical doctor.”

“Are your headaches worse?” Hannibal asked, lifting a hand to his head. He felt his temperature, then released him, moving to oven as it pinged.

“Yes.” Hannibal hmm’d under his breath at that, and he turned as he removed something from the oven, the smell of freshly baked potato filling the air. It contrasted the somehow bleak, tepid air that draped around Will oppressively.

“If they could bring some insight to your position, it’s for the best. What happens if it is not neurological though, but mental?”

“What do you mean?” Will asked, looking up.

“What are you going to do if they run the tests on your brain and it’s not a neurological illness, but a mental illness?” He set the pan down on oven mitts on the counter, leaning in to inhale the scent.

“…Probably try and find someone that can treat that,” he said reluctantly.

“You don’t trust me to?”

“Is it really ethical to? If we…” His voice trailed off, and he coughed to dispel the pressure in his chest. He looked down and traced over his wrist, almost able to see the kiss marks Hannibal had left behind there. From over his shoulder, Charlie peered down to see, too.

“That is a fair statement,” Hannibal said. “Although, as I said before, I’m not your psychiatrist. I’m your friend.”

He served a salmon quiche, Will to his right at the elegant dining room table. When Will would look up from his food, he’d find Hannibal watching him, a small, delicate smile on his lips. It made him self-conscious in a heady, dizzying way, and he looked back to his food, taking another bite. His left hand rested on the table, and halfway through the meal, Hannibal reached over and lightly caressed it, encasing Will’s hand in his own to hold. Will looked at it, then to his face, and he swallowed his food with difficulty. He made no move to remove his hand.

“I must correct my earlier statement,” Hannibal said lightly, like they were discussing the weather. “We are far more than just friends, Will.”

“…Oh,” Will managed. He swallowed his food and nodded, a short laugh bursting from him. “That’s a relief.”

“And I do offer my sincerest condolences. Would you like to talk about what happened at the crime scene, when you saw your friend?” That stopped his smile cold. He grimaced, and the blood pooled between them, hands without arms that lay in the loss of life, forgotten.

You take them fishing?

I take them fishing.

“I don’t want to think about that right now,” he said hollowly, taking another bite of food. It turned to ash in his mouth, dry and rotten. “I think that’s…something I’d actually just like to forget entirely. One of the few things I’d trade if I got a better memory instead.”

“Is that why you came here? You needed help replacing it with something else?” Though faint, a sliver of apprehension slid through his question. Will shook his head.

“I wanted something real. Something…tangible. When I closed my eyes to think about what I wanted most in the world, all that I could see was you.”

“I’m happy to oblige,” Hannibal said, and Will heard the smile in his voice.

“You’re going to get eaten,” Jared said from across the table. He glared at Will, and it was the most tangible he’d been in a long, long time. Will forced himself to swallow his food, and he stared at the image, frozen. God, he needed to see a doctor.

Hannibal saw Will to the door after breakfast, when they’d collected all of his things from the hallway to the bedroom. At the slight tear near one of the buttons on his shirt, Will laughed, then Hannibal laughed, and they stood in the hallway, arms full of clothing they’d been in such a hurry to remove that they’d ripped them to pieces. When he got into his truck, he headed towards home and decided that everything was going to be alright.

It had to be.

Such ideals, while optimistic and hopeful, are ultimately, tragically wrong. When Will pulled up to the house to the image of five SUV’s and a couple of police cars, he realized with a sinking, dark sensation that no matter how hard he grasped, he’d always lose his footing and fall.

Jack Crawford waited for him as he turned off the car and climbed out. The police lights lazily flashed although no siren sounded, and he winced at the blue that spun about and occasionally hit him with its beam. It wasn’t an invasive light; it was muted. It still stung him though, pricked at something in the back of his head he couldn’t reach, couldn’t quite touch.

“Good morning, Will,” Jack said, and it wasn’t anywhere close to the same tone Hannibal had used when he greeted him earlier. Will frowned at the cars, then back to Jack, confused. His fight or flight instinct was flaring up, telling him that he had to run, and he had to run far.

He froze.

“Is something wrong?” he asked shakily.

“You know, there really is,” Jack laughed, and he slung an arm around Will’s shoulder, pulling him in tight. “Tuesday, I had you take a look at the crime scene of a man by the name of Charlie Yorkman. You had a fit of some sort, and I removed you from the crime scene. Interesting enough, not once in that entire encounter do I recall you ever mentioning that that very man you faced down in that warehouse was actually one that you lived with up until that point when he disappeared.”

Will’s blood turned to ice. Bits and pieces came back to him, of Charlie’s face, of his missing eyes, his missing hands. Breakfast churned in his stomach, and he had to fight to keep it down, his eyes darting from the cop cars to the agents that scoured the entire property with purpose. He’d thought to tell him, thought to inform him of his dark, twisted luck, that kept piling bodies up around him until he was going to drown in them, but he’d blacked out before he could, time lost and never regained. Now, it seemed, it was too late. What little time he had wasn’t even his own.

“I didn’t…”

“So then I show up here, and I find a dog that isn’t registered to you keeping guard. We ran the chip information, and that dog belongs to the deceased Cassie Boyle.” That was news to Will. He almost doubled over, sucker-punched, but Jack hauled him along, unwilling to let him drop. His grip was iron, a dark suspicion rippling off of him.

“If it was the one, I’d chock it up to a nasty coincidence from a kid who’s seen a lot in a little bit of time,” Jack continued. He shoved Will forward until he stumbled and fell against a cop car, and his expression darkened. “But two in one day is probable cause, and we’re searching this place.”

“I didn’t…do anything,” Will stammered, and Jack held up his hand.

“If you haven’t, then we’re not going to find anything. But for now, you probably don’t want to say a word,” he advised, and he motioned to two cops to keep an eye on Will. Jack walked away, towards the barn, and Will pressed his palms to his face, sweat beading at his temples. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening,

“This isn’t real,” he told himself, but he was grounded enough in the moment that he knew it was a lie without even having to consider it. Lazily, the blue lights flashed and blinded him with each pulse, unheeding of the way that his breath came short with it, the way his palms grew clammy and cold.

You’re in a safe place. Safe. Comforted. Safe.

“C-can you turn off the lights,” he asked one of the cops, but they didn’t answer. He rubbed his eyes, the light piercing him, swaying against him as it knocked him back into the waves, reeling, spinning. Needles, sharp and vicious pricked along his veins from his feet up, and the longer that Will stood there, the worse it became, red-hot in the way that it spread like a rash, burning, burning, and when he whined in pain, a cop turned towards him.

He’s going to devour you.

“What’s he doing,” one of them murmured, but Will couldn’t hear it, not the way that heard Charlie’s screams as he begged for mercy, for the pain to end. He blinked, and he licked the blood from his knife, the taste of iron and pennies hot on his tongue. It was the sweetest of flavors, the essence of another. Across from him, Garrett Jacob Hobbs smiled, his mouth black and gaping.

Would you like see what someone else’s blood tastes like?

Will fell to his knees and grasped his head, the blue light flashing, flashing. Heat poured from him, and across his arm he saw his skin blister and burst. He was cold, he was hot, and he clawed at his arm to get the needles out; he didn’t need the needles in his skin, he didn’t want the needles in his skin. Shivers racked his body, and as someone came running, the last thing he saw was the ravenstag watching him between the police cars before it all went black.

#LiaS scribble #writing #magnum opus #someone help will graham #hannibal #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram #will graham x hannibal #hannibal's psycho is showing #and Will is too sick to see it

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im-accident-prone-blog · 7 years

Text

Slowly Drowning: Prologue; Hide and Seek

(Each chapter will be named after a song I think describes it well.) Abi held my hand as she pulled me down the hall. She was a bright twelve year old and I, a naïve girl of ten. The Victorian estate was once owned by British royalty who had voyages to America to settle the land. But now it was owned by us. The Leers. Nothing special except for the fact that our grandfather was the renowned war hero Michael Leer who had fought in world war two all those years ago. But we thought nothing of it as we tried to stifle the giggles that would escape our lips. Quickly and not so quietly we made it across the hall and into the small door that led to the room hidden in a wardrobe that was nailed to the wall. We weren't supposed to go there, but it was our secret spot. We stumbled upon it during a game of hide and seek. After we got over the cobwebs and rickety floor boards, we took it upon ourselves to fix up the old room. Floral wallpaper sat in rolls in a corner of the room, and antique furniture was positioned over a dusty carpet. Slowly but surely we were able to transform the room into something that resembled comfort. Now it was full of light as we slowly closed the wardrobe door behind us. Porcelain dolls lay across the floor dressed in beautiful silk and lace dresses we had fashioned for them from material found in a box in a cupboard underneath the stairs. We were happy together playing and playing. As much as we like. Hours later our dolls sat in a pile, we were exhausted from playing so much. "Abi! Claya's here to play with you!" Our mother's voice called out to us from the bottom of the stairs. Claya was our next door neighbor. She wasn't nice, at all. Of course she acted innocent around adults, but behind closed doors she was a monster. "I don't like Claya." I stated bluntly as Abi pulled us out of the wardrobe, securing the panel behind her. "I know Maggie, but it's not like she's gonna get nicer if we sit around and make her impatient." I nodded my head in agreement as we reluctantly started downstairs. "Alright you two, play nice and never ever play by the river's edge okay?" We both nodded as Mom zipped up our jackets. She fastened a hat hat over each of our heads before helping us into our boots. Mom always doted on us, she was so afraid that something would happen to us, or we'd get hurt. But I guess that's what happens when your husband, your two brothers, and unborn son all die in the same month. It was sad really. If I remember anything about my dad it was how much he loved us all, he died when I was nine. Abi and I were going to have a baby brother but after Dad died Mom had a miscarriage caused by stress. Shortly after, her brothers got in a plane crash while coming to visit her. She's always blamed herself for their deaths. I remember how she would never sleep at night and we could hear her sobbing when she thought we couldn't. Mom was broken and scared. We could understand why. "Come on you two. Hurry up!" Claya squealed happily. I rolled my eyes as I knew that after my mother shut the door her seemingly bubbly and happy personality would fade into one of anger, rage, and a constant desire for complete and utter control. We began our walk to where the river flowed with a few 'hurry ups' from Claya. But we reached it in a fast time. The sound of running water was very familiar as we had spent many days playing with Claya along the banks of the river. "Isn't it beautiful Maggie?" I nodded slowly still holding onto Abi's hand. We were inseparable, all for one and one for all. "Quit your daydreaming and let's play hide and seek!" Claya snapped turning to go hide. "Abi can be it!" I turned and ran to hide behind a wispy leafless bush. I had the perfect view of Abi, so I'd know when she'd be done counting. But to this day I wish I hadn't. I plopped to my bum in the slightly damp grass feeling it deep through my jeans slightly. I smiled to myself as I inhaled the scent of nature. Trees and trees for miles. Then I heard it. A scream. High pitched and ear splitting. My eyes snapped open only to see Claya push Abi into the river. I screamed and ran out of my hiding spot. Acting upon blind rage and hatred I slammed my hands onto Claya's back, sending her tumbling into the river. And then in a flurry of emotions I sank to my knees and cried. I felt arms wrap around me and pull me up. I looked up to my mom with tearstained eyes. "Maggie what happened?" She cooked in a flurry. "Where's Claya and Abigail?" My mind scrambled for a decent answer not wanting to tell her the truth. "Mommy, we were playing t-tag by the w-water and Claya tried to tag Abi b-but she slipped and they both, the-they both fell into the water." I broke down into tears at the horrible lie I had just told my mother. It wasn't fair to lie. It wasn't right. But I couldn't just tell her the truth, I was sure she'd yell at me. --------- Mom had called 911 search and rescue to find Claya and Abigail while she brought me home and gave me soup and sat me next to the fire. I felt horrible. I had just pushed someone into a rapid river. That was not something your average ten year old does. That night she came home from the hospital crying. Abi had already gotten home and was sitting by the fire with me. I decided not to ask her why she was crying. I was afraid she would bring up my dad or her brothers, so I kept my lips shut. "What's your favorite colour?" I asked Abi who sat next to me. "Probably green, I love green." She replied enthusiastically. I made a grimace and began making disgusted sounds. "Green can be pretty but only specific shades. Like murky green? Disgusting. Blue is the better colour, you can't go wrong with blue. There is no such thing as a bad colour of blue." I replied smirking. Mom walked in and handed me a glass of orange juice. "Who are you talking to little Maggie?" She asked smiling. I scoffed as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Abi. Who else?" It wasn't a question, more like a sassy remark to make my mom feel stupid. But she didn't mock offense or pretend to be hurt like she normally did. She simply smiled sadly with tears brimming her eyes before leaving the room with a choked sob. "What's her problem?" I asked turning to Abi, but she wasn't there. "Abi? Hello? Abi? Where'd you go?" I asked aloud surely enough for her to hear from where ever she was. "Huh. She must be asleep." I concluded before mounting up the stairs with my orange juice in hand. I got to my room but before climbing in bed I whispered into the night air. "God watchover mommy. She's acting funny." Before finishing my orange juice and heading to bed. --------- Three years later I turned thirteen. It was fun most days, Abi was fifteen and she was so pretty. I wanted to look like her when I got older. She helped me through everything. She explained to me the function of a tampon, taught me how to shop for bras, and basically did everything an older sister should do. Over the years Mom also hired therapists to talk with me about the day Abi was pushed into the river. I hadn't heard from Claya since then and I hoped that she was too afraid to see me after I body checked her into the river. Abi and I sat at the kitchen table reading copies of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone when a knock sounded at the door. Mom was quick to leap up from the couch in the living room and sprint to get the door. "I wonder what's wrong with her." Abi said bluntly, watching as she ran passed the kitchen entrance. "She probably hired more 'professional' help for me. I swear she thinks I'm crazy." I stated returning to my reading before I was interrupted by a voice. "You're reading Harry Potter?" The voice belonged to a boy, who looked about my age, he had scruffy hair and hazel eyes. "No I'm reading Romeo and Juliet. Of course I'm reading Harry Potter you halfwit." I snapped at him. He definitely wasn't professional. My mother needed to stop. "Sammy, leave the girl alone. I'm gonna talk with her. Go find your brother and help him with whatever he's doing." An older man stepped into the kitchen and the young boy rolled his eyes before taking his leave. Thank God. My eyes flicked to where Abi was sitting to find her no longer there and apparently the man took that as an invitation to sit down. Never mind God I revoke my gratitude temporarily. "So your mom. She's pretty skidish, like she's worried about something." He inquired. Thank you random stranger for prying into my private life. Thank you so much. "She's just been through a lot. That's all." I replied bluntly not looking up from my book. Quirrel had just set a troll loose in the dungeon of Hogwarts. "Yeah, from what I hear you're all she has left." His voice was gruff. Like he had a sore throat or something. It almost sounded painful. He probably did. He looked even more scruffy that who I was guessing was his son. It looked like they had just crawled out of a sewer and then tried to dry off with a blowtorch. "Yup. Me and my sister Abi that is." Wait why did Dumbledore casually ask the prefects to lead their houses back to their dormitories if the Slytherin dormitory is in the dungeon? "So tell me about this Abi." He said cooly. Well as cool as possible for someone who sounded like they had swallowed a cat. "She's my sister. She nearly drowned in a river a few years back but she's alright. We've been close as long as I can remember. We've never really ever had a reason to be separated." He nodded as if he was taking in the information. It was the classic therapist nod. This nod was normally followed the phrase 'so tell me blah blah blah'. "So tell me Margaret, do you know that your sister is dead?" Now normally I would've given some smartass comment but he had just said my sister was dead. That was where I drew the line. "Okay listen here you Dingus! My sister is not flipping dead she was literally just down here reading with me a few minutes ago! Look! That is her copy of the book we're reading together! Check it if you must her name is written in there and everything! You 'professionals' really fricking suck!" I finished before storming out. It earned a few weird looks from scruffy boy 'Sammy' and his scruffy unnamed obviously older brother. I ran upsatirs into my room before flopping down onto my bed. "You know they're crazy." Abi said sitting on the edge of my bed. "I can't be dead if I'm sitting right here." She continued rolling her eyes. "I know. I just wish Mom would stop hiring all the crazy people who're trying to get me talking about the day you fell in the river. I swear she's onto me pushing Claya." I wanted putting a hand over my face. "It's fine. You did the right thing. Claya will never be able to bother us again." She said stroking my hair. And that is what I fell asleep to that night. --------- The scruffy professionals actually ended up staying and poking around for a few weeks until they suggested to my mom that we should move. And she listened. She actually listened. The weirdest thing was not that she listened to the scruffy people, or the scruffy people themselves, it was the fact that she left Abi behind when she moved. Why? I never knew. I just assumed Mom kicked her outta the house early. It's happened. But something still didn't feel right about it all. Abi didn't even say goodbye.

#ghost #writing #original #prologue #drowning

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