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hollywood397 · 3 years

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Leads Back to You (John Marston x Abigail Roberts)

I was inspired by this piece of art @the-mill-kat at did!!! John and Abigail’s reunion after the events of the RDR2 mission “Red Dead Redemption”. Please enjoy! Title inspired by “Compass” by Jamie Lidell

Warnings: none! Word count: 1.1k

The moment John Marston slid off the “borrowed” horse his body threatened to crumple over top the muddy ground. His right hand went to his left shoulder, holding onto the throbbing appendage. He paused for a moment as his eyes scanned the are around him for any sign of leftover Pinkertons. The freshly risen sun burned his tired eyes, but he kept searching for any lingering threats. Copperhead Landing was an open, swampy area but that didn’t mean it was safe. After the hell he’d just endured, all John wanted was his family not another battle. He searched some more before settling his eyes on the dilapidated, broken down shed that sat at the equally shoddy pier. A false sense of energy shot through his aching bones when he recognized the two horses standing nearby.

“Abigail!” His throat burned as he shouted for her. His boots suddenly felt heavier than ever as he drudged them through the mud to get closer to the shack. “Jack?” He hollered for his son next. God, just the thought of holding the child again was all that got him off that mountain. John felt his energy begin to dwindle once more the longer his cries went unanswered. Arthur promised that they were here, where were they? “Abi?” He tried again, voice breaking. His shoulders bowed while his eyes locked onto the shack. The moment hopelessness started seeping into his mind, he saw movement.

“John?”

“Abigail!” The backs of his eyes stung with tears of relief. Just the sound of her voice brought him such comfort. He shuffled his way towards the direction of her voice. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop but he didn’t care. There was more movement from inside the broken-down shed. Desperate shuffles filled his ears, along with hushed whispers.

“Sadie, let go of me!” Came Abigail’s frustrated voice. He couldn’t help but laugh. Sadie Adler was a smart woman he didn’t blame her for trying to be cautious about his arrival. Before John could try to explain that he was alone, his woman came into view. His heart nearly stopped when he caught sight of her. Dark circles were nestled under her reddened eyes, her blouse messy and askew. Her hair fell loosely against her shoulders, the hair pins she used to keep it at bay hanging from the ends. In the course of the battle against the Pinkertons, Micah and his crew, John almost forgot how breathtakingly beautiful she was. Abigail opened her mouth to say something but quickly shut it. John tried his hand at words next, but he couldn’t muster up a single syllable. All of a sudden, she started to run towards him.

He let go of his shoulder and rooted his feet into place just mere moments before her body crashed into his. The impact hurt like a sonuvabitch. He welcomed it. Abigail’s arms linked around his neck as she stuffed her face into the crook of his shoulder. “My darling.” He cooed into her ear as he grabbed hold of her. She fit so perfectly in his arms, John couldn’t believe he’d ever pushed her away. He had been a fool to do so.

“Arthur said, he said—” Abigail stammered through her shaking sobs.

John knotted his fingers into her already tangled hair and held her tighter. “I know, darlin’. I know.”

She lifted her head to look up at him. Her cheeks were soaked with tears. “You really here? Am I dreamin’?”

The hand in her hair moved to wipe away her tears. “You know I’ll always come back to you, Abi.”

Abigail laughed. “You and your sweettalk ain’t gonna get you outta trouble for scarin’ me and the boy half to death.”

John’s lips twisted into a grin. “I love you, Abigail.” He didn’t give her time to respond before bringing his mouth to hers. She melted into his arms, hanging desperately onto his shoulders. He swallowed the wince from her grip. He wasn’t nearly ready to let her go.

“Pa!” A small voice screamed. It seemed that their son had other plans.

The couple parted and looked behind them to find the four-year-old doing his best to run through the sloppy mud. Behind Jack Marston stood Sadie Adler, arms crossed and a remorseful look on her face. John knew he would have to break the news about Arthur and what happened on the mountain. After he reunited with his family and figured out their next step, he would tell them. But it could wait until later. “Jack!” He returned his son’s holler. He let go of Abigail only to scoop Jack into his arms. Tiny arms flew around his neck.

“I told Mama you’d find us! She didn’t believe me!”

John laughed breathlessly. “I would go to the ends of the Earth to find you two.”

The little boy’s face lit up with a toothy grin. “Where were you, Pa?”

“Just had to finish up some business, son. Don’t you worry about it another second, you hear?”

“Okay, Pa.” Jack’s smile couldn’t get any bigger, John thought. He couldn’t believe he’d wasted years brushing the boy off. Never again, he swore. He’d done wrong to Jack and he would give his life to make up for it. John turned to face the woman that was in all ways except legally his wife. He felt the same way towards Abigail. He’d done her wrong more than he’d care to admit. Like with Jack, he would spend the rest of his days trying to make her loyalty worthwhile.

John reached out his left arm, grunting at the dull pain the motion caused, and pulled her into the embrace. His lips lingered on her hair as a sigh blew through his body. He was a lucky man, he decided. How many men could say they had a woman as good as Abigail Roberts? A woman so fiercely loyal, so determined and thoughtful. And then there was his son. The boy lit up any room he entered with his bubbly, curious ways. John was certain that the boy was already smarter than both his parents combined. He felt so blessed to be his father and felt even luckier to be able to watch him grow into an adult.

John Marston was a man who’d made his fair share of mistakes in life. He often never learned from those mistakes, either. But as he held his family in his arms, he vowed to never repeat the ones that put them in harm’s way. His hold on Jack and Abigail tightened.

He would do whatever it took to keep his family safe, even if it killed him.

#I love soft John Marston #John Marston #abigail roberts #abigail marston #jack marston #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfic #fanfiction

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myfairgunslinger · 4 years

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Title: Red Dead Revenge: Kiss of Death [Part 2]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC x John Marston

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Cursing

Summary: After Arthur saves a woman's life he takes her back to the Vanderlinde Gang where she can get the help she needs. Maeve recalls past events as she takes time to heal.

A/N: Hi guys! I’m back with a new chapter in this story. It took forever because I wanted it to be the best that I could make it. So hopefully it was worth the wait. We’re gonna be looking at Maeve at a time prior to meeting Arthur, also Arthur isn’t really in this chapter...I promise to make up for that in the next chapter! Also note about John, this story is set before his scars, so there will be no mention of them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy none the less.

- Italics means the past

Chapter Two: I Know You

"No! No!" Her neck sliced open to flood out with blood. Cecilia's eyes were wide as they stared over at her daughter. Blam! Everett's body fell to the floor as he held his stomach trying to hold in his red gore. All she could hear was her own screaming only for it all to be silenced by the last gasps of life from her mother.

"Ahhh!" She screamed herself awake followed by a pained groan remembering the gun shot. Maeve went to sit up noticing she was not wearing her own shirt anymore. This one was a faded maroon color that served as an under shirt. The cut on her skin where her collar bone was had a bandage over it. She lifted the foreign shirt to see her waist and stomach were tightly wrapped in medical cloth.

"Do not ruin that wrap," a German accented voice startled Maeve. It was here she realized they were in a large tent, "Who the hell are you?" her voice was horse, layered with rudeness. The old man had pointed at her wound, "You had a gunshot. Lucky for you it hit nothing and went through you. It was only a matter of stitching up the hole."

Maeve stared at him saying nothing. He called her lucky when that was the last of what she was feeling, "I believe a thank you is what you say," the old man said to her shutting his book to stand up. Maeve still didn't say thank you, but asked again, "Who are you?"

He scoffed out, "Americans," then left the tent. She was confused while being alone until an older woman came in. Her dark, graying hair was piled on top of her head in a pompadour style, "Ah, you're awake, Miss Milley. Gave us a fright there," she placed a hand on her hip.

"I'm sorry, who are you? Where am I? How do you even know my name?" Maeve's head had so many thoughts running through it.

"Well, you have been unconscious for about a day and a half. Mr. Morgan brought you here after you'd been shot--."

"Who?" Maeve winced her eyes never hearing that name before. The woman let out a frustrated sigh then said out slowly, "Arthur, you owl! Said you gave him a bath?"

Maeve's cheeked reddened, letting out an, "Oh," his name was Arthur Morgan, "Where is he?"

"He's out on business. Anyway, he brought you to us and Mr. Strauss, the German fella stitched you up, I cleaned ya," and that explained the man earlier, "My name's Susan Grimshaw, that's Mrs. Grimshaw around camp."

Maeve went to stand up, but stumbled a bit. Mrs. Grimshaw caught her and helped her stance, "Easy now, what's the hurry?" Maeve took her steps outside the camp, "I have to see where I am," she pushed the flap back to be met with a scorching hot sun beaming down on her. Maeve held a hand up to block out some of the light but it was a failure due to how much it flooded over her.

"New Austin, just outside a town called Armadillo," Mrs. Grimshaw filled her in while passing her a white over-shirt to wear. Maeve slipped it on looking over at the older woman then around the camp site, "Who are you people?" _______________________________________________________________

"Outlaws...every single one of you?" Maeve was walking with Mrs. Grimshaw along the outskirts. She had filled the newcomer in on who Dutch Van Der Linde was, what he and Hosea believed in and along with a majority of the camp.

They were different than other gangs, sure they robbed people but at least they weren't going around murdering fine folk for the hell of it. Mrs. Grimshaw named off who ever she saw passing by in the camp. There weren't that many people, "That Irish bug, is Sean. Stay clear of him, he thinks he's a womanizer."

Maeve made a face that could be read as, 'Don't have to tell me twice.' Maeve saw a small boy, toddler age, running by, "Children are here too?"

"Child, that's little Jack. He stays with his mother, Abigail. We all watch after him," Maeve was about to ask where his father was, but as her eyes followed the boy she saw him go embrace a woman. The sight alone caused Maeve's eyes to well up and her throat swell. Mrs. Grimshaw saw, "Miss Milley?" She couldn't take it or hold it in, Maeve walked off, out of the camp as her tears fell down her face. She was so curious and wondering where she was that it distracted Maeve enough to forget why she was here in the first place.

She collapsed into the dirt, sobbing out from all her heart ache. Maeve's hands gripped the hot sand between her fingers, screaming out from either the heat or grief, it didn't matter. Mrs. Grimshaw came over to her, "Get out of the dirt or you'll reopen your stitches!" Maeve was still crying, hunched over. She didn't care.

"Maeve! Maeve please," she tried again, "You gotta get up!" Maeve's hand came up to cover her face, "They're gone..." she whined out, "Ma, Pa....gone!" The older woman placed a hand on the woman's back, "That may be, Miss Milley, that may be. But you are still here. And you need to get yourself out of the dirt." Maeve sniffled, tears dropping on the earth.

After a moment Maeve started to stand up with the aid of Mrs. Grimshaw, "There you go, let's get you back in the tent to get you cleaned up." As the older lady started to lead her back, only Maeve had noticed that there were people staring over in her direction. Her eyes glanced over the faces of these unfamiliar people until they met with a pair of dark eyes belonging to a man with long, stringy hair. That wasn't a stranger. 'I Know You'

Mrs. Grimshaw had cleaned off Maeve as she sat there, telling the woman what happened to her family, "That's a nasty thing and you have my deepest of sympathies, Miss Milley," she threw the rag over her shoulder then said in a soft manner, "It's not easy dealing with loss, and it sure as hell never should be when it comes to loved ones. But trust me when I say, your parents wouldn't want you to be like this. They would want you to be strong. And surviving all of that, a gunshot wound...well I think you might just be a fighter Miss Milley."

Maeve watched the woman leave the tent, thinking on what she had to say. What a strange place she was in. The flap was left open and she could see the only familiar face, peaking in but trying not to seem so obvious. John Marston. _______________________________________________________________ Maeve pulled at the collar of her blue, frilled shirt trying to get air to vent through the silk. She felt so confined in the outfit her mother put together for Blackwater's Tenth Annual Bird Shooting Contest. It was the one day that a lot of the residents, including Maeve, looked forward to since the town was still growing. The Winner gets one hundred dollars and a new bolt action rifle.

"Mama, do I really have to wear all this?" the young lady was fidgeting with her yellow skirt. Her mother was standing to the side of her daughter and smacked her hand away, "Yes, yes you do. I call it 'the Kimberly'. Do you like it?"

"Who the hell is Kimberly?" Maeve kept looking over to outfit through the mirror, trying to breath through the corset that was rather tight, "It's too hot...not to mention hard to breath. I might miss my shots."

Cecilia was picking dust off the shirt that had landed on Maeve between her putting on the new clothes and now modeling in front of the looking glass, "My daughter? Miss?" Cecilia let out an amused chuckle while taking out a riverboat hat to place on Maeve's head, "You've won the last four years--"

"Five, Mama," the daughter corrected while adjusting the hat, "Five. Anyway, when all the fine citizens of Blackwater see who the winner is, I want them to see she dresses her best," Cecilia stared at her, holding such pride.

Maeve made a lop-sided smile at her, "And then come find you for pretty outfits for themselves," she said watching her mother open up a bottle of fine brandy. Cecilia rises the bottle up for a moment, "What good is havin' a beautiful daughter if I can't use her for advertisement?" the woman took a swig from the bottle. She escorted Maeve to the door who had a cheeky reply to that, "Next ya know, daddy is gonna have me ride horses around town... Oh wait!"

Cecilia rolled her eyes, "Go get shootin', smart mouth. And don't get that outfit dirty!" she hollered.

"See you down there," Maeve started to walk down to where the contest was being held, rifle over her shoulder by the strap. She waved at some of the people there, residents Maeve's grown to know, especially from the previous years of her attending the contest. Some of the men would grumble under their breath upon seeing the girl, the one that was a spectacular shot and taking the win year after year.

Maeve took out a cigarette, lighting it up then inhaling a drag while standing alone on the outskirts of the group of people. She recognized most of these people, all except one man. Her eyes were drawn to this stranger, he had a dangerous look to his eye but it just intrigued her all the more.

He stared back at her, wondering what exactly was it that had this girl's eyes on him. The man sauntered over towards her, eyeing the rifle on her shoulder, "Also 'ere for the contest? Gotta say Miss, that corset won't make things easy."

"You must have a talent in observing the obvious, Mister..." Maeve tilted her head to him. He caught on to what she wanted, "Sorry Miss, hadn't thought to introduce myself. John Marston," he offered his hand to her.

Giving him a gentle smile, she took his hand to shake it, "Maeve Milley, Miss Milley if you're feelin' fancy," Maeve then raised her shoulders up, "Although I think you might be callin' me a 'son of a bitch' after today when I win. I know the others do."

Her mouthy answer startled a chuckle from him, she may have looked like little lady, but she had a roughness to her that he liked, "Nah wouldn't dream of it. Ain't that much of a sore loser."

Maeve smiled at him, wincing her eyes as the sun shined down on them, cigarette between her two fingers. Her posture was that of confidence, willing to take on anything. She was on top of her world, "Seein' as you're new to these parts; welcome Mister Marston." She brought the cigarette to her mouth to take a couple puffs before tossing it on the ground to step on it, "So you in town just for the contest?"

"Looks that way unless there's any other reason to stick around," his eyes stayed on her face, "Anything of note that would make passin' through worth wild?" Maeve moved to where they could face Blackwater and she pointed at some of the buildings, "Still a growin' town and in a few days they'll be another contest of sorts but I find them boring. No gun, no fun," she shrugged.

"I'll have to remember that saying," he half grinned at her, "What else?" John took out a cigarette of his own to light. Maeve raised her arm up to point down the main street, "Town Hall is up if you're the political type. A ferry is up 'n' runnin' that takes you all the way across Flat Iron Lake. Never been on it though." Her father had requested she never venture off too far from home or town for that matter. Her finger pointed to her work, "Then for a decent stay there's always the saloon. Decent is the key word to describe that place. Decent rooms, decent baths, and not very decent breakfast," her voice joked. John chuckled at her review, "Doesn't sound too bad."

There was a trumpet that notified all of the crowd that it was time to start the contest. Maeve turned her head to look over then back to John, "Well, nice meetin' you, Mister Marston. May the best shooter win," she gave a gentle wave to him.

"Yeah, good luck," he watched her go off to find a decent spot. Everyone lines up, firing off their rifles as soon as birds were released to fly out. Some of the contestants got at least one or two shots in. But all of the contestants paled in comparison to Maeve's score, all except the stranger John Marston. "Not bad!" Maeve would comment on his shots, "Not too bad yourself," he would say back.

By the third round the score had tied twelve to twelve, Maeve was reloading her gun while John was looking over at her, "Tell you what, you win this and I'll buy you a drink, if I win you buy me a drink?"

"Hmm tempting, but you don't need to win a contest to get my company," Maeve suggested as John smirked, "Okay what did you have in mind?"

"Blackwater Saloon at six o'clock. Win or lose," she cocked the gun, "What do ya say?"

John nodded, "Win or Lose? I say that sounds perfect."

"Okay, just be ready to lose," Maeve grinned getting ready to fire her gun. The final birds were released and the two shooters started to unload their rifles into the air. The winged creatures fell to the earth along with their feathers. Just as John had five more birds to his name, Maeve would get six, capping off the final score of eighteen, making her the winner once more.

"Our winner, for the sixth time in a row, Miss Maeve Milley!" the announcer belted out then gave Maeve a blue ribbon with the money and rifle. She had taken a picture, smiling brightly as the flash bulb went off. Maeve saw her parents cheering and yelling out which made her blush. Her eyes then looked over to see John, clapping for her too while some of the others were grumbling to themselves.

Maeve went over to John as he said, "Well, I'll never bet against a lady in a corset again. Especially one that even told me I was gonna lose."

"I'm usually right, Mister. It's a gift and curse," she gave him the money. He looked down confused, "What's this?"

"You shot just as good as me, and trust me when I say I have not had any competition like you in years. Maybe when I was bad at shootin', but now? Not one man comes close," she explained, "And if my feeling about you is right, then you need the money more."

"What's your feelin'?" he asked, curious to know her theory.

"Passin' through, so you're a little lost...don't know where to go."

He stared at her, "GO on." Maeve shrugged, "You're a wanderer. Nothing wrong with that in the slightest, just need a break now and again."

John still had the money, "I still can't accept this. You won it fair 'n' square." Maeve shrugged, not taking it back, "And I can do with it as I want. And I want to give it to a man that needs it. Winning the contest, it never was about the money," Maeve said to him, "I just like rubbin' this pretty ribbon in a man's face, that and the rifle. Fine gun this is," she said admiring the one on her shoulder.

John barked out a laugh, then put the money in his pocket, "All I can offer is my thanks then, Miss Milley."

"Thank you..." she then glanced back at her parents who wanted to talk to their daughter. "I gotta get, but I'll see you tonight?"

"You sure will," John took out a cigarette from his pocket, "Six o'clock." Maeve stepped back, with a grin, "Six o'clock.

______________________________________________________________

Maeve had spent most of her time in the tent, laying down on the cot rethinking the stormy night. She wasn't frightened so much, just becoming angry at the events, at herself for not doing more. It just kept eating at her, all the while she wondered when Arthur was coming back from his 'business'. The last thing Maeve remembers is Arthur trying to help her while she rejected him, yelling in his face hysterically. She had to apologize for not being in the right state of mind.

She got up to go check outside, to see if he had come back yet. The girl had to talk to someone about what she was going through. Maeve's eyes observed the camp before landing on John who was looking at her. Him. He knew who she was, or close enough. Why hasn't he said anything to her yet? It was time to settle this, Maeve started to walk over to John wanting some answers to how he's here. He was an outlaw that ran with this gang, it had her wondering how long he’s been on the run. When she really thought about it, Maeve didn’t know much about John at all.

When she was close enough, Maeve cleared her throat to get his attention. John had turned his head up to her, "Yeah?" Her heart started to skip a beat when he spoke, "Um...hi. It's been a while." He said nothing, making the silence unbearable enough for Maeve to keep going, "I know things didn't exactly end well for us...I said some things, you left," her voice was descending it's volume as it recalled old times, "I just wanted to say things have been looking down for me right now, but I am glad to see a face that I recognize."

Maeve's brown orbs stared at him, begging for him to talk to her. Or acknowledge he was here with her instead the crippling isolation that was overwhelming her. No, he didn’t do any of that. Instead John still was silent as he reached for his gun holster to put on around his waist.

Waiting impatiently, Maeve broke out saying, "Can you please say something to me? I’m wanna talk and frankly all I feel is crazy."

Taking in a deep breath, the man glanced at her face with his dark eyes, "Afraid you are."

Maeve's breath was still. He just told her she was crazy? "What?"

John shrugged his shoulder, "Never met you before in my life," he then started to walk off back towards the stew pot to get a bowl. Maeve stood there with watery eyes hoping she could have at least had someone to talk to, someone that knew her before the great loss Maeve suffered. He just brushed her off. Maeve felt her heart sink.

______________________________________________________________

Maeve came in to the saloon with a blue ribbon pinned to her frilled shirt. She was still wearing the outfit her mother dressed her in. Cecilia got a lot of orders for ‘the Kimberly’ after the contest that she had to go to the shop with some customers. Mrs. McCourt only wanted the best for her own daughter. Everett wanted to keep his wife company so he went with her to the tailor's. Maeve approached the bar, Lou noticing the ribbon said, "Again? Ya won again? I'm not surprised," he gave her a glass of fine brandy. She downed it then set the glass on the counter, "You betcha! Not without a challenger this year. Meetin' him in a bit."

"You mean tall, dark and standin' in the corner?" Lou pointed with his thumb. Maeve saw John with his hat tipped down over his eyes and she said to Lou, "That's him! How do I look?"

"Ridiculous."

"As opposed to always!" Maeve twisted the corner of her lips down. Lou shrugged, "Ehhh," the girl took off her riverboat hat, "Hide that for me. Also two whiskeys," then made her way over to John. He looked up at her and smirked, "Howdy, winner."

"Howdy...number two...That doesn't sound great either," They chuckled as Maeve gave him his whiskey, "Cheers," he said when they drank. Using the same hand that was holding the small glass, John wiped the side of his lip.

"So, Mister Marston, since you are a wanderer, where you from originally?" Maeve asked him rolling her glass between her fingers.

"Oh you know, here and there."

She tilted her head, "Here and There? Never heard of it. Tell me more," her voice was sarcastic. John couldn't helped but be humored by her wit, "You're sharp."

"And you're an enigma. I think I like that," she went to lean against the wall. John got closer to her placing a hand by her head to lean on, "Really now? Not many people would."

"Only cause every other folk 'round these parts is borin' as all hell. 'Cept Lou," her voice raised a bit so the bartender can hear. He raised up the glass he was cleaning to acknowledge her.

John made a subtle frown, but kept meeting her stare, "You don't like a quite, borin' life?"

"You do?" Maeve countered. John made a face that read as not minding the idea, then nodded, "I could use one." The girl smiled with amusement then pushed herself off the wall, "Have mine then." John reached out to grab her wrist to stop her from going too far. He was gentle though as he said, "You got a good thing, Miss Milley. I wish I had it."

"What's yours like?" she asked noticing that John was still holding on to her. He shook his head, "You wouldn't like it."

"You better not be some rancher's son that I've never met before. I will shoot you," he grinned at that, thinking of how pretty she was when saying it. He leaned in to peck her lips and to Maeve's surprise had her eyes open. As he pulled away, John gazed, hoping Maeve wouldn't slap him.

She was looking down at her boots, her cheeks reddening at his eyes, "You definitely like to live dangerously," Maeve tried to not look at him again while biting her bottom lip, "Look it's not that I don't like you...I do. But you did say you were passin' through."

John leaned in a bit, "I haven't passed yet, have I?"

Maeve rolled her brown orbs, "But you will. That's my point," John loosened his hand so she can have her arm back, then Maeve started to walk away, "Have safe travels, Mister Marston. It was a pleasure meetin' you."

John watched her leave the saloon then went over to lean on the bar. Just as Lou came over to give him another whiskey, the bartender said, "She works here, ya know."

"Why you tellin' me?"

"Oh no reason. She's pretty, ain't she?" John stared at the man listening to what he was saying. Lou glanced at John, "You look like you can use a bath too."

"Excuse me?"

"Get one in the mornin', will ya?" he nodded his head towards the direction Maeve walked off. John then understood what he was trying to tell him.

______________________________________________________________

Mrs. Grimshaw had given Maeve a bed roll, "You can sleep next to all the other ladies we have here. Should be some space by Miss Jackson and Miss Jones." Maeve unrolled it on the ground then went to lay down on it. It was not very comfortable down there, rather lumpy beneath the fabric. The sun was starting to go down when she saw a couple men ride in, one of them covered in mud, and Maeve looked over to see if one of them was Arthur. Neither were, "When is Arthur coming back?" she asked the woman.

"Hm? Oh he usually runs off and does his own thing sometimes. Don't worry, he always comes back. Excuse me. Mister Williamson? Why are you covered up in filth like a pig?" Mrs. Grimshaw then stormed off to go talk to Mr. Williamson. Maeve watched the interaction, Mrs. Grimshaw was that maternal figure in the camp that had an order to things. With a smack of her hand upside the larger man's head he went over to wash up in the barrel of water. Susan rolled her eyes and shouted, "Don't ever come in to my camp like that again or I'll have you thrown into the closest river or lake!" This was a woman that ruled her world. Maeve admired that.

"She's a pleasure, ain't she?" a blonde, busty woman said while smoking a cigarette. Maeve nodded, "Been helpin' me get settled, so yes. I'd say so." The woman chuckled softly as if she knew what was to come. She flicked ash off her burning ember, "Just wait. She'll get real lovely in a matter of days. Name's Karen Jones."

Another woman that had been quiet while folding some clothes raised her hand, "Tilly Jackson," Maeve glanced at them both, "Maeve Milley." "You're that girl Arthur rescued. Gotta say, that's something. Gettin' shot I mean, Never been," Karen said, "Was it a robber?"

Maeve placed a hand over her bandaged wound. She did not wanna start crying again, so she kept her answers short, "Yeah..." Karen took a final drag of her cigarette, noticing her expression. She stole a glance from Tilly who was still folding her laundry, Tilly's eyebrows rose up, as a warning for Karen to tread carefully.

"The bullet went through you, so that makes you lucky," Karen said just as Maeve got up feeling overwhelmed. There was that word again, the one that was supposed to make her feel better but did no such thing, "I'm not lucky. Stop callin' me lucky because I certainly don't feel lucky!" Maeve shouted then had stormed off to get out of there. Karen threw her hands up to Tilly in a frustrated manner, "What's her deal?" "She watched her parents die in front of her," Tilly hissed out in a whisper. Karen whispered back, "No one told me! How was I supposed to know?"

Maeve was walking towards the edge of camp where the horses were kept, looking over them all she saw Liability among them eating some hay. Maeve went up to old bay mare to pet her white mane, "Hey girl...you seem to be gettin' along with these guys." The horse exhaled loudly then pressed her nose to the girl's hand. "I know...it's just us now," Maeve spoke softly before reaching into her saddle bag to take out a brush. Her horse should have been much dirtier than it was, being out here in the desert could make anyone dusty, "Who's been takin' care of you, girl?" Maeve asked as if she was gonna get an answer.

"Me," Maeve turned around to see John standing there with a bundle of hay. He tossed it down and stepped closer to Maeve while she continued to groom the mare, "That's funny...Liability doesn't really let strangers near her."

"I'm-."

"You're what? A stranger?" Maeve lashed out in questions, "Do I know you? Can't recall your name, Mister," her eyes were burning a hole into him. John's gaze at her was not amused, but he said, "You done? I was hoping we could have a word."

"Why? What was wrong with earlier that you had to call me crazy?" Maeve stopped brushing Liability, "What your friends here wouldn't think highly of me? Make fun of you for talking to me? Was I such a bad person to you that you have to lie about knowin' me?"

"No--It's--," he took a breath to step closer, "Look...I wasn't the most open when we were--"

"You sure as hell weren't. Made me pry for any information on you," Maeve interrupted. John glanced over to look to the camp, "I didn't tell you somethings because I just...at the time I was lookin' for a new start and I met you--."

Maeve watched John find difficulty in forming his sentence, but he was taking so long, "What are you tryin' to tell me, John? What didn't I know when we were--."

"I'm married...unofficially?" Maeve's mouth dropped as he continued, "And I have a kid, I think?" Maeve shook her head in confusion, "Are you married or not? Do you have a kid or not? It's not that hard to know!" As she was shouting, John tried to quiet her by placing his hands on her shoulder, "It's... complicated."

She winced her eyes at him, "It's always complicated with you. Jesus, you were runnin' away from them then weren't you?" John sighed out, "It's a long story if you wanna hear."

"I don't!" Maeve hitched Liability to a stable post, "I'd rather throw myself off a cliff instead of listenin’ to you try and explain all your shitty lies, John!"

"Not tellin' isn't lying!" John defended.

"It ain't any better, neither! Christ John! The entire time you were with me, you had a wife and kid at-- out here?" She stared at him expecting him to try and defend that, only he didn't. John simply said, "Yes."

"You're horrible."

John gave a single nod, "I know...I wasn't expecting to ever see you again," he admitted to her. Maeve scoffed out, "Excuse me for being a giant inconvenience for you and your marriage or whatever you have."

"Maeve, please...just," his hand was on her wrist, not in a rough way, "I need you to understand that what I had with you...It was-- I shouldn't have used you like that when you were nice to me," Maeve watched him closely, wondering what all of their time was. He then said, "I need you to not tell anyone about me and you...at least until I've told my-- until I've told Abigail."

"You want me to lie for you now?" Maeve said to him. John nodded, "I know it's askin' a lot, but please."

She glared at him with those big brown eyes, "Not like it will be hard...I never knew you at all," Maeve pulled away from him, "Mae..." he said with a breath. The girl shook her head, "You wanna be strangers? Fine...let's be strangers. Just stay the hell away from me."

Maeve walked back to camp as John watched her. It was better for her if they lied like this. It was better that John let her go. Still, it hurt him having to do this due to the fact he was still fond of her. _____________________________________________________________

She threw her hair in a bun while walking into the saloon, "Mornin' Lou," she greeted the bartender as he was moving stools around, "Mornin' Miss Milley. Got someone waitin' on ya."

Maeve’s face made a pouted expression, "I just walked in!" she complained. Lou smirking, shook his head, "And he just paid! So get your pompous arse up there and scrub him clean!" Maeve tossed her coat over the bar and stomped upstairs. When getting to the door, Maeve knocked, "Need some help in there?"

"Yeah," Maeve rolled her eyes not paying attention to the voice then opened the door. She was expecting to see a naked man in the tub but instead, Maeve saw a fully clothed one standing by the porcelain, "John?"

"Howdy," he greeted taking off his gloves. Maeve shut the door behind her and was rather surprised he was still around, "Thought you were passin' through?" her head tilted to the side as she sauntered forward. John gave her a small shrug, "I did mention I would stay if there's any reason to stick around."

The corners of her mouth raised a bit just as she was arms length away, "Am I a reason?" John took off his hat and nodded, "You are. Do you wanna be?" he moved closer being inches from her now. Maeve bit the side of her bottom lip before standing on her toes to kiss John. His arms wrapped around her waist to hold her up as they deepened the passionate kiss. Maeve's hands were on the side of his face as he stopped kissing for a moment, "That a yes?"

Maeve laughed out in glee, "You're horrible!"

"I know," John, smiling brightly, pressed his lips to hers again.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/oc #John Marston #john marston/oc #red dead redemption 2.#rdr2

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positiveparker · 6 years

Text

Romeo + Juliet 90′s!au Final Part (Harrison Osterfield)

thank you guys so much for 500!! - L

- warnings ; angst! fluff! death! swearing!

- pairing ; haz x reader

- masterlist

HAZ’S POV ;

The happiness soon faded as we went out of the church onto Verona Beach. There stood my best friend Tom and Christian (y/l/n), they were arguing.

“Tom what the fuck are you doing?” I shouted, he didn't hear me. Muffled shouts could be heard echoing all over the beach. Christian pulled something shiny out of his pocket, it glimmered in the sunset. Suddenly the glimmered faded and Tom fell onto the sand. Adrenaline shot through my body as I let (y/n)’s hand go and started sprinting towards him. My cousins fell at his side and Harry started trying to lift him up.

“Tom, Tom, Tom” I bellowed, I fell next to him and lifted his torso up on my lap. He took my hand and his breathing became short.

“Haz” he breathed, his hand was clutched by his side. I gently lifted his fingers to see blood oozing out of his side.

“you’re going to be fine” I sobbed, his eyes suddenly became glassy

“Haz”

“Tom no” I started crying more and more, tears suffocated my cheeks.

‘Haz”

“Tom I’m not letting you go” I hollered trying to lift him up

“Haz” he shouted breathily “stop fighting” I stared down at him and took his hand in mine

“I am married now Tom” I sobbed into his hand, I pulled his fingers to my lips and kissed their bloodiedness.

“end this” He breathed nodding to my cousins and Christian. Then the air left his lips and his skin turned cold. My body couldn’t believe it, it didn't want to. My best friend was gone. I screamed and cried, my head lifted to the sky in hate. I could feel everyones stares. A soft hand touched my shoulder, I shrugged it away and looked behind me. It was (y/n) staring at me with loving eyes. I couldn’t even look up at her the same. Her cousin had killed my best friend. Rage consumed my veins and lifted my body up. I ran over to Christian and started pushing my hands against his chest. He started pacing backwards with a shocked look.

“Haz stop!” I heard (y/n) scream, but I didn't listen, everything was in slow motion. Harry ran towards me and started restricting my limbs. I turned around and punched him, he fell to the ground in shock.

“your gun” I screamed holding my hand out

“Haz, no”

“give me the gun Harry, I swear to fuck” I screamed. Harry shakily handed me his gold plated gun, I looked up to see her. Her eyes were full of tears and red from anger. Her eyes told me to stop, but I couldn't. I curled my fingers around the shiny gold and cocked the gun. I slowly turned and started rapidly shooting. Loud bangs ran through my ears and filled up the sand. He fell to the ground, his white shirt now tinged red.

“Haz, what did you do?” I heard her run towards me sobbing. She grabbed my shoulders and made me face her, she punched her fists against my chest. Her fingers banded around my neck as she screamed and cried in my face.

“you idiot, you idiot” she repeated

Maggie came over and tried to restrict her. She pulled her arms away and they both fell into an embrace on the hot sand. She sobbed violently and gasped for breath, my heart clenched. I looked down and saw what I had done. I dropped the gun and fell to my knees.

“what have I done” I whispered to myself.

Harry and Sammy grabbed me and pulled me away. The two bodies lay there, they soon became inflicted with photographers. I had ruined everything. Every chance with her, every future kiss or adventure. My lips couldn’t make any words. My cousins and I just rode home in pure silence. Though our silence was filled with mourning.

READER’S POV ;

Hate. Hate killed Tom. Hate killed my cousin. Hate killed the love for my new husband. I couldn’t even believe it. My mind became restricted with thoughts of rage. I had never felt so lonely. Maggie pulled me home and into my room. She started running me a bath and poured bubble bath in it. I sat on my bed staring at the ground. Maggie tried making light conversation with me

“are you hungry?” She asked. I couldn’t be hungry, I felt sick to my stomach. Though my heart hated Haz, I still felt for him. His best friend was dead and gone. I pulled my knees to my chest and shifted my body backwards, resting on my headboard.

“you’re going to be married in two days” Maggie tried smiling but her face fell as soon as she saw mine.

“to Sam Holding” I replied feebly. I couldn’t even cry anymore, my tears had run out. My pager vibrated from next to me. I picked it up cautiously.

Please don’t fall out of love for me - H

Of course not, I just need time

When are you getting married - H

Two days

Oh god, we cant leave by then - H

Then and idea sparked in my head.

“Maggie, you have the bath I need to go somewhere.” I sat up and pulled my shoes back on. I was still wearing my red dress, it brushed against my legs as I ran down the main stairwell. My pager was gripped in my fingers in dropped to the ground and skidded across the marbled floor.

“Harrison Osterfield” I head my mum grumble from behind me. I turned around to see her in a long white dressing gown. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and stamped on it with her slipped. “You thought I wouldn’t find out” she cackled

“Mum I-“ Then a sharp pain concaved on my cheek. My hand fled to my face where a single tear was falling.

“you will be there at the church to marry Sam even if I have to drag you by your hair” she spat through gritted teeth. She whipped passed me and there I stood in shock. I couldn’t wait any longer so I ran out into the garden and grabbed my bike from the shed. It was a rusty electric blue, I swung one leg over and pushed it on the pedal. I pedalled around the side of the house and then onto the pavement.

The sun was almost down and the street lamps were faintly glowing. I cycled passed a few pedestrians and finally reached Verona Beach again. I shoved my bike outside Friar Lawrences apartment building and rang the doorbell.

“Haz?” He grumbled

“No, its me (y/n)” I replied

“Oh..” He said and the door buzzed open.

I walked inside his darkly lit house and shut the door behind me.

“what is it?” He grumbled from his doorway

“I don't know what to do Friar”

“you don’t want to be wed to Sam Holding?”

“no, no, I would rather die”

“I knew you would come here” he muttered softly “I have a plan” He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with blue liquid

“p-poison?” I stuttered

“a mild dosage” he smirked, he started ambling towards me “people will think you’re dead but actually you’ll be in a deep sleep”

“so you suggest I take this?”

“yes, and send a message to Romeo” He murmured, I pulled out my pager and the Friar snatched it. “Not by pager, too obvious. This would be the first place they would check” He said nodding to my pager in his hand. “Send a letter, I’ll get my choir boy to deliver it”

“Thank you Friar” I nodded

I cycled home with the vial in my pocket. Maggie would have left my house by now since it was practically night time. I cycled around to the shed and put my bike away. The house was dimly lit so I cautiously opened the front door and ran softly up the staircase to my room. I pulled out my draw and fished out a notepad and gel pen.

Haz,

By the time you get this you will think I am dead. I am not, the Friar gave me a plan. I am asleep Haz, then we can run away. People will presume I am dead but trust me once I wake in the church the Friar will send us away together. We can start over, without everyone. We can leave all the hate and rivalry behind and start a new life. I was thinking maybe we could drive to Paris? I want to adventure with you.

See you on the other side,

(y/n)

Then I pressed the vial against my lips and drank its contents. As soon as the vial was empty so was my breath.

HAZ’S POV ;

Harry took me out of Verona. The police were looking for all of us. I missed her but Harry told me not to use my pager to text her. We both sat on the hood of Tom’s car smoking a cigarette.

“are you going to go back” Harry coughed

“she is getting married tomorrow, how could I?”

“look, you can marry May” Harry nudged my arm and handed me the rest of the cigarette. I took a long drag and blew the smoke against the breeze.

“I don’t want May”

“You confuse me cousin” He laughed

Suddenly a motorbike pulled up and created a large cloud of sand. Through the mist Sammy appeared with a worried look. I pushed myself up off the car to greet him.

“Haz!” He coughed through the mist

“what?”

“I dont know how to say this” He gasped, my heart dropped

“what?” I said my voice lowering with curiosity

“she’s dead”

The words rung in my ears like a loud bell

“you’re lying” I spat

“Haz I’m not” He protested

“You’re lying!” I repeated this time louder and through a light sob. I sat on the pavement and wiped my eyes.

“they found her dead in her bed today” Sammy said softly

“why!” I cried looking up to the warm summer sky, the one girl I loved was gone. She was gone forever. I couldn’t even say sorry for what I had done to her brother. I couldn’t even feel her lips on mine again. Tears didn't even form in my eyes, they had run out from the day before. I pushed myself up off the scorching ground and threw the cigarette butt on the ground.

“drive” I nodded to Harry, he responded and we both slumped into the car

“You coming?” Harry nodded to Sammy

“I’ll be there soon” He nodded back. We sped away into the horizon. Little did I know a letter would arrive shortly after I left. A letter detailing her death and how she was actually alive. A letter I would never read. A letter that could have saved us. We drove all the way to Verona Beach where I knew her body would be lying.

“give me your gun” I said holding out a hand to Harry

“Haz, no” He protested

“Harry, please” I breathed, he nodded and then fished his gun out of his holster. I held it in my sweaty hand.

“Is this it then?” He asked

“what do you mean?”

“you”

“i don't want to live without her”

“what should I tell your mum” He started choking up

“That I love her and Sammy too” I started sobbing softly

“I love you” He said putting his hand on my shoulder

“I love you too” I mouthed, he pulled me into a hug and then as soon as I hopped out the car quickly sped away. He didn’t like goodbyes and neither did I.

I ran across the street and burst into the church. It was empty but I noticed a white body at the front. Candles were still lit from the service earlier. I ran up to the alter where I knew she was lying. My hard shoes echoed around the chapel. I stopped at where she was lying. They had dressed her in the white dress she was wearing the night I met her. I cupped my hand over her face and stroked her cheek.

“oh (y/n)” I sobbed, I looked up to the stained glass window above us both and cocked Harry’s gun. I pushed the tip into the side of my head and curled my finger over the trigger.

READER’S POV ;

My eyes fluttered open to see him, my face dropped to see the gun he was holding. Then a loud bang rang in my fresh ears.

“Haz” I screamed, his body dropped down over me. “Haz, Haz did you not get my letter” I sobbed, I grabbed his shoulders and tried shaking him awake but his body hung limp and cold over me. The gold plated gun was still in his fingers, I let go of his body and picked up the gun. The gun that killed my cousin, my lover and now it was going to kill me. I pressed it through my lips and into my mouth. Then the world went black and it was just me and him hanging limply in the chapel. The chapel where we had gotten married the day before. Our loved marked place with held our love marked death.

TAGLIST ;

@tomsfireheart @feelingsareharddd @lovelyh0lland @i-dont-wanna-go-mr-stark @hazeyholland @lookclosernow @choke-me-sweet-pea @whatareyouhidingpeter @spidey-pal

#Harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fic #Harrison osterfield au #harrison osterfield imagine #haz x reader #harrison osterfield x reader #Harrison x reader #tom holland #tom and harrison #harrison and tom #harrison fic #harrison imagine #harrison au

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crescentmoonhills · 5 years

Text

Psychological. Second try at writing

Friday morning. The last time I would have to hear my alarm, well, until Monday. I turn off the buzzing of the alarm but I know the buzz wouldn’t stop. It never did. Countless whispers, quiet and scratchy like a mouse in the wall grating at my soul. Going ceaselessly louder and louder by the day. Begging, pleading, crying, screaming, screeching and— "Shut up, shut up." I whispered to myself, climbing out of bed. I go downstairs to start making coffee. The office has a Keurig machine, but I have always thought you couldn't beat a pot of coffee in the morning. I step outside to smoke my first one of the day.

I put a cigarette to my lips, light it, and without even looking up, I know the neighbors are judging me. I know everyone is. I know all too well. A washed-up author with not a single book to his name—no, a 35 year old unemployed man left behind by his wife, friends, and even families. Give applause to the one and only, Mr. Ernst Klein. Heh. I could hear them speaking from here. Mumbling, whispering, hushing, and gossiping. Ignore it, Ernst. Ignore it. They have enough reasons to do so and you are used to it anyway. I took a deep drag down to the end and threw it on the ground. Figured if I’m going to end myself might as well make it enjoyable. I go in, grab a cup of coffee, took a book, and return to the patio.

****

At the altar she prayed. Sending her prayer to The Almighty Creator. The oldest and most heartless of gods. The creator of the Nine Great Gods and the world as she knows it. The one who had created her and her fate. The one who had sent her on to this holy mission of hers. The one who had given her, friends and companions. The one who had given her, families. The one who had given her, the love of her life. Also the one who had blessed her with a beautiful daughter and a charming son. Yet, He is also the one who took them all away. He took from her, her friends, companions, families, lover, and her precious children. However, she never faltered. She knows that everything her Creator did must have a reason and He had yet to abandon her and her world, she didn’t care if everyone around her thought she was insane. Through her incessant sobbing, she prayed, and prayed, and prayed again. She pushed her calls as hard as she could into the voids of her mind in hoping they would make it out to her one and only Creator.

“Please bring them back… they’re my everything”

****

Reading has, for as long as I could remember, always been my hobby. It lets me escape from this cruel reality that I live in and all the problems that follows it. Escapism. I know. It won’t solve anything but at least it helps me cope with it. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. I mean, not everyone could face their problems head-on, no, no. Not everyone… are that brave. At least I know I’m a coward. If running away from my problems and live my whole life in peace is being a coward then yes, I gladly accept being a coward.

I looked down at the book that I randomly took from the piles of lined papers and moldy writings which I had proudly called my bookcase. I looked at it and there it was, a novel with my name arrogantly printed on it. Sigh. Out of all books. It was a book that I had written myself. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. I had abandoned this story years ago because it wasn’t quite well received. Monotone, uninteresting, unnecessarily long, unoriginal, mediocre, lackluster, and the compliments goes on. None of my books are well received actually. No. None of them, and so I finished writing none of it.

****

It called to me that day as it does now.

Whispering.

Yearning.

Promising.

Promising of a world torn apart by fire, divine and nuclear, all encompassing and devastating our planet. Such is the will of the Creator. So I obey.

“I hope it gets bet—” A shaky voice barely comes out of my mouth only to be interrupted. “Cough!” I coughed so hard it felt like my lungs were to come out. I looked down at my hands and I see blood. Sigh. I guess I don’t have much to live anymore. A couple weeks probably? No? A couple months? Well like Engels used to say life keeps going like a menstrual keeps flowing hahah. Smiling as I thought to myself. I hope it gets better. I really do. The clicking of the Geiger counter is my only friend now. Ever since the factory exploded it seems to be going higher and higher by the day. Every step feels excruciatingly painful, but I keep walking.

I miss Engels, I miss Immanuel, I even miss that cocky playboy Jean. Dog tags clinking in my hand. Geiger counter clicking faster and faster. It’s ok. The temple is close now. We’ll be there any minute now. C’mon Pascal you can do it!” I thought as I continued to shamble about but fate has other plans I guess. I was a couple feet away from the temple when I realized it. I was surrounded by reavers. “Give me all your food, kid! I know you factoryborns have a lot o’ them luxury canned foods!” Yelled one of the reavers. “Forget it boss just kill ‘em and we could sell his meat to the carvers for extra foods”. That night, the snows were colored red.

God forgive me. I couldn’t bring my friends to rest. I prayed as I breathe my last.

“What did we do to deserve this?”

****

While I read, I hear a voice. What did we do to deserve this? No, not the usual voice, those gritty, harsh, and dry calls were still there. They were always there but I had learned to ignore them. Instead I focused on a more vivid voice. One that said, “Will you be able to come?”. I looked up, and saw Karen. I grumbled, annoyed that she had interrupted me. “Fuck away will you, Karen,” I said. What did we do to deserve this?

“I’m not going to your fucking baby shower.”

Karen sighed, “Look, I know you don’t like him, but he’s still your brother, Ernst—”

“I don’t care whether or not he’s my brother, Karen. I just don’t want to waste my time.”

“Family bonding is not wasting time, Ernst. It’s a tradition! And considering your situation you might need it now more than ever.” Karen yelled.

“Tradition is just peer pressure from the dead, Karen.” Please bring them back… they’re my everything.

“Why are you being so stubborn, Ernst?”

“I see no point in pleasing the dead” I said. What did we do to deserve this?

“Is that why you didn’t visit dad when he’s laying on his deathbed?” I grit my teeth. Please bring them back… they’re my everything.

“He asked to see his son at least once before he died and yet you never came. You didn’t even come to his funeral!”

“I have reasons, Karen! I’m sure dad will understand and he would forgive me! I did what he would’ve wanted me to do and that is doing my responsibilities!!”

“The way I see it It’s better for you to go and make up with your brother rather than locking yourself in that room you call your office. You don’t have anything better to do anyway.” Please bring them back… they’re my everything.

“I do have things to do, Karen! I’m an author. Writing is my responsibility!” I hollered “It’s unbearable, Karen. I can’t leave them alone.” so I said as I’m sharply sucking a breath. What did we do to deserve this? “I— I just can’t. Enough! You wouldn’t understand.”

She sighed and patiently asked “Just do me a favor and come will you?”

“Sorry, I have better things to do,” I said shortly, and went inside the house.

****

The colony's inhabitants were gathered in a large auditorium. They were laughing and smiling no less than an hour ago. The auditorium was safe and impenetrable yet also serves as a prison in which none can escape. The door was sealed from the outside. Through a thick window covered in scratch marks, Commander Alexei could see decaying bodies in red jump suits. Some were holding others in one last embrace. Others were apparently trying to escape through some sort of vent, with little luck.

“Commander?” Hadrian, the only member of the crew who knows about the program, asked “Is there really no other option?”

On the desk were a stack of journals, each marked with dates ranging from 3010 to 3075.

“It’s been years—no, decades since the last reply from Earth, Hadrian” he said while wiping a gun. It was an unusual gun. A very ancient one which dates back to the late 1800. It’s very unique to say the least. It was a type of gun called a revolver. It’s a single-action, cartridge-firing, top break revolver. Fires a type of projectile called bullets. Uses no energy cartridge, no focusing lens, and forget fusion core reactor, there’s not even a normal fission core reactor. It uses gunpowder and pressure instead. Ignition fills the barrel with gas thus increase the pressure and push the bullet out. An effective and cheap way to kill. How interesting, when killing is involved people really do anything to improve, thought Alexei as he fills the cylinder with bullets.

“Thus, I am forced to conclude the worst: we lost the nuclear war, and our nation and families are destroyed. Even this failsafe colony will not be enough to keep us alive. Instead, we will all die of dehydration. Faced with that consequence, I had no choice but to exercise Protocol 99 and terminate the colony in a quick and relatively painless way.” He had no other choice. His nation was dubbed as evil simply because they had a different political view. And so the others waged war. War don’t need a concrete reason anyway, as long as they see profits and merits in it men would jump on it the second they got the chance to. Who gets to decide morals anyway? Who are them to say that my country is evil? Are we evil for defending our beliefs? Am I a villain for defending my country and families? No one gets to decides evil and just. Only god can do that and the fact that this happens means that there is no god in this world, thought Alexei.

I’m sorry, comrades. Your screams…. your screams will haunt me even after I take my own life. Alexei points the gun at his own head and Hadrian follow suit. “I will see you later, Sir” nods Hadrian. “Commander Alexei, retiring from duty. Should humanity ever rise from the ashes and return to the red planet, know that we tried. Long Live The Union”. Alexei closed his eyes and prayed for the first time in his life. The page was spattered with small flecks of blood.

“God is not real after all. There are no free will”

****

I hated writing. What did we do to deserve this? No, I don’t hate it, what I hated was the responsibility that came with it. God is not real. There are no free will. Despite my mediocre talent in writing, I loved to write, I really did but all of my stories had a dark twist. What did we do to deserve this? I loved writing stories with a dark twist but I wish I had known any better. Oh, how I wished I had. What did we do to deserve this? I’m not sure when it started but it was there, always, unending, ceaseless and incessant. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. The whispers— no, should I call it prayers instead? Yes, prayers. God is not real. There are no free will. What started as one… became two, and that became more and more as it got louder. God is not real. There are no free will. They got so loud that I decided to stab both of my eardrums with my pen. Yet they still wouldn’t stop coming. What did we do to deserve this?

God is not real. There are no free will. As they got louder I heard words. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. I hear men, women and children all pray to escape from the wicked world they live in. They prayed for a better fate than what was destined. God is not real. There are no free will. A better life. Alas, their world is but a page, empty and nonsensical. Their fate is determined by the splotches of inks, a fate that will never receive closure. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. And lastly, their life is in the hands of an irresponsible and incompetent god who revels in the suffering of the lives that he himself had created.

The stories with the most details are the worst. God is not real. There are no free will. Villains, broken and enraged at the uncaring god that made their lives the way they are. What did we do to deserve this? Victims, suffering from the polluted and corrupted world created only for the sake of a more exciting plot. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. Protagonists, wept in silence as their fate forces them to fight and struggle in their abandoned and callous world while losing both everyone they loved and their only purpose in life. What did we do to deserve this? I heard more and more voices, pleas, and cries for help came for every single day, hour, minute, and seconds. God is not real. There are no free will. Surely I’m going crazy. Maybe I isolated myself too much. What did we do to deserve this? That has to be it. I isolated myself to work so much that I’m losing it. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. Yet, I have to write still. No matter how many years it will take. I will end it all. I’m the one who started it and I will be the one who ended it. Please bring them back… they’re my everything. I’m responsible for them. Yes, it’s my responsibility. And so I write. I wept and I write. God is not real. There are no free will. What did we do to deserve this? Please bring them back… they’re my everything.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writing #prompt inspired #writeblr #writers #books #reading

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potter-scamander-black-imgines · 7 years

Text

Distress and Smiles

Credence Barebone X Reader

Request: Nope ;)

Warnings: Torture. Hints at Abuse. Sadness. It’s cute and sweet, don’t get me wrong, but

(AN: Okay. Wow Credence is harder to write then Graves. And I kinda wanted him to be happy after all that had happened so this takes place post the film: Hope you like it.)

"Okay." You sighed, "You ready?"

He nodded, grabbing you hand and taking a deep breath and looking at his straightened tie. "Okay." You continued, a small smile creeping on your lips, "So you can't stare at anyone and make sure not drink anything. Especially not anything too brightly colored. Oh and stay close! Oh and Credence?" You smiled, squeezing his hand, reviving a small hmm from him, "Thank you for coming with me." You hugged him tightly. Causing a small smile to escape onto his lips as he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist and his nose into your hair. Letting go, you looked at him with twinkling eyes and a nod, turning swiftly to the door and doing the secret knock, grabbing Credence's hand as the door swung open and walking inside the club.

Everything was going fine as you drug Credence further into the joint until he met eyes with the elf singing and froze, causing you to loosen the grip on his hand. Walking towards him and gently stroking his face so he'd look at you instead of the creature, you slowly walked backwards, making sure he was until you were both seated at the bar. Then you dropped one of his hands, leaving the other in a tight squeeze as you took out your wand, conjuring two glasses of water in front of you both. This caused Credence's eyes to twinkle slightly.

Since discovering he had magic, Credence had been so fascinated watching you perform spells, you had taught him a few, but your wand had not been do fond of him so it wouldn't normally go well. Still his interest sparked and when he had snuck out of his house at night he'd often stay up reading your old text books from school, implanting all the facts about this world he knew existed but nothing about into his head. But never before had he seen it... Or even really heard actual music before. It made his mouth gape open slightly and your cheeks heat up.

"Credence?" You asked gently, squeezing his hand to get his attention. "Would you.. I mean do you want to dance?"

This caused the boys head to drop and shake slightly, anxiety flooding his body as the girl looked down in guilt, "I-I don't... I don't know how.."

"Could I... i mean if you wanted I could teach you?"

Nodding quickly, he took your hand and pulled you onto the dance floor, looking at you for further instruction. Grabbing his hands, you placed both on your waist as you put both of yours around his shoulders as you slowly, cautiously swayed to the jazzy festive tune, humming it softly so Credence could keep up with the tempo. Quickly catching onto the gist of things, he began to experiment a bit on his own as he would spin you about quicker, a small smile growing into a large grin. "Sorry." He'd apologize when he would step on your feet but after a while the sorry would follow a chuckle, one of sheer joy. You'd never seen him so happy, or anyone this happy for that matter, it made your heart melt like butter as he grew confident and actually made you cry.

"Y/N?" Credence immediately stopped, grabbing your wrists and squeezing them, "I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to step on you..." You shook your head as you threw yourself into his arms for the second time of the evening and sobbed into his shirt. Silence fell until Credence found the courage to speak, Y/N I..."

"I'm just so happy Credence." You replied cheerfully, swaying him slightly, looking up at him, you head still on his chest , "You make me so happy Credence Barebone."

Nodding slowly, he lowered his head and lips closer to yours, you closed your eyes, feeling his forehead, eye lashes, and breath meet yours while you waited for the lips. His fingers tracing your check, wiping the tears as you two inches closer, though they never met.

A crashing noise was heard and as quickly as you two had moved on the dance floor, you pushed him behind you. "Stay behind me Credence. Duck when I say. Got it?" The boy nodded as you pulled your wand out again, waiting to hear the first spell being fired.

"Stupify!" You exclaimed, stunning a wizard before looking behind you to make sure Credence was in the clear, "Expellimous!" Back and forth you fired every stunning spell you could think of while credence watched in awe and panic. He was the one, in fact, who'd heart the Cruciatus curse being flown your way and with all of his reading, all he knew was it was bad news. You on the other hand didn't hear it and as it hit you, you let out a single scream and fell to the ground, collapsed in whimpering pain. It was instantly that Credence picked up your wand while he tried to think back to all the things you had said about spells, but all he could think about was his mother and the "lessons" that she taught him.

"Credence!" The whip came, "Now what have I told you about hanging about that girl! She's bad news."

"Credence! What have I told about reading those books of yours?"

"Credence!"

" Credence! Merlin! Your poor hand... Would you like me to heal it for you?Alright now this first one may hurt a bit... Episkey! Sorry... didn't hurt too bad did it? Alright hold on... Ferula. They aren't too tight are they? No? Good! I could.. uh... teach you if you would like?"

"Hey... Lets do something to distract you eh... how about a little spell? Next time someone fires something at you, just yell Stupify to fight or merely Ablegatio..."

"Just start coming over at night. Alohmora will work with your fingers. Lumos will turn on lights around you."

"Need that book? Just think or say Acio and the title of the book and it should run to you."

"Expecto Patronum. A Positive thought is all it takes. Even a powerful one."

"Hey it's okay... she's just feisty. I really ought to get you a wand of your own someday soon. Then you won't have to deal with this stupid girl."

"Oh Credence.. Don't cry. It will all be alright. I am beside you.... What? No... I won't ever leave... I promise. It's all going to be okay."

"That smile on your face is handsome... It makes me happy to see you wear it. Truly"

"I'm just so happy Credence. You make me so happy."

The sad and dark memories were all replaced by joyful ones of your smile and he remembered everything not only he'd red but everything you'd try and teach.

"Confidently, Credence." Your voice echoed in his head, "You are strong. You are magical. You are a miracle. Let them know it."

Alright Y/N... And Y/N's wand... If you say so... Please work...

"Confundus!" He hollered at the people around him, surprised when your wand responded positively, "Protego! Stupefy!" Spell after spell, Credence and the "good guys" were able to get out of the bar. Carrying bridal style though he had no clue where to take you.

He didn't know where your home was or he'd take you there, the only place he could think of was his old home, but he'd have to use magic to fix it up... and the whole place brought bad memor- No... No you are much more important. "Repairo." He muttered, the building responding instantly as the wood rebuilt itself under his command. Steadily but slowly, he made his way into his old home, careful not to look at anything, only to rush to the nearest bedroom and put you onto the bed.

Though your squirming as though in pain, though several hours after you had been hit, Credence held your hand, rubbing your knuckles every once in a while, wishing he knew where Ms. Goldstein lived so she could help because he had no clue what to do, only squeezed your hand and whimpered when you screamed and jumped about. It worked, usually you would just falling into a pit of whimpering. It caused him a lot of anxiety, enough that would usually make him turn but ever since you had came into his life and Ms. Goldstein had began helping him learn things he hadn’t even really been able to turn regardless of if he tried or not. He had found himself at a state of life, something he never got under this roof until now.

Minutes turned to hours turned to days yet still, Credence sat by your side, telling you stories that he remembered being told as a kid, before Mary-Lou, and talking about his many joys, mostly of how much he cared for you and his happy memories of you.

“I wish you would wake up.” He sighed, feeling helpless, “I... I know it is selfish, but I miss you eyes.” He looked at you, hoping to see a change but nothing. “I-I am s-so scared.” Weeping, he picked you up, walking around aimlessly until he found directions to Kowalski’s bakery, knowing the chances of Queenie being there, only to run into Newt who ushered the two of you into his case, immediately working on you while making small talk to Credence.

“She will wake. Haven’t seen the Cruciartus curse ever go this bad. Probably first time, poor thing.” He sighed, handing the thin boy a cup, “Where did you meet her?”

Credence shrugged, “I-Sh-She found me. I.. I like to think that anyway.” Blushing at the thought as his friend looked at him with a bright smile, “I uh.. I don’t know. It was a few m-months after the tunnel. ”

“She is lucky to have you.” Newt smiled at his friend, making brief eye contact before getting back on the girl.

No. He thought. No I am lucky to have her.

Small talk began (Credence responding to questions about the Goldsteins and such, only after requesting Credence stay the night in the case so he could watch after both of them and take them to the Goldsteins, which he was heading there himself having just finished his book. He had offered to buy the two of you copies in the morning, not expecting anyone but the sisters) and Newt quickly began talking about his newest creatures since seeing the boy last as he grabbed the girls had, abandoning his glass.

It was easy for him to drift off into sleep.

“And you see even if they are naturally such a bright they are truly, very much, brilliant camaf-” Newt’s voice cut off noticing the youngsters boy hung low, gripping the hand of the girl snoring softly beside him.

Grabbing a blanket off the shelf he draped it over the boy, he smally smiled to himself, “They will be fine. No....

“They will be perfect.”

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