#save a horse ride a disk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chao-writes-stuff · 3 years

Text

DELTARUNE SPOILERS

Heyyy! I wrote a thing involving Jevil and the Chapter 2 Superboss! I'm going to put it under the cut, but at the end, there will also be an Ao3 link if you wanna support me there!

Thank you! Remember to Reblog if you wanna

The Lightner Trio walked down the stairs in the Queen's massive manor, their hurried footsteps echoing like a rough pitter-patter in the technological nightmare. The massive lair confused and bamboozled them, but they definitely wanted to figure out the mystery behind what the Fountains were about, what Queen's true intentions were… and what was in the basement?

"Uhh… Kris?" Ralsei asked, his soft voice echoing out. "Why are we even here? Aren't Queen, Noelle, and Berdly upstairs? And not here…?"

Susie quickly interrupted him, punching his arm lightly to get his attention. "Of COURSE they aren't here. But whatever is here is probably important. Right, Kris?"

"I guess!" The currently blue human replied. "I've been asked by some… guy, about doing these weird favors for him. He really wants me to be alone."

"We sure he ain't a p-" Before Susie could finish her thought, Ralsei muffled her mouth with his scarf. "Who is he? And why does he want you to be alone?"

"His name is Spamton, I think. I don't know much about him, but he gave me this Loaded Disk earlier, and--"

Suddenly, a strange, chaotic voice rang out. Everyone recognized it. The tail attached to Ralsei's cloak popped off, diamonds and hearts flying out with it. The tail spun and took form, and the chaotic Jester they quite literally put to rest yesterday was reawakened.

"Spamton? SPAMTON? The same Spamton who wished for me to go, to go, and be free, free?" Jevil laughed chaotically, with Ralsei caught quite off guard. "You know him?"

"That dorito chip was part of the reason why I was set free, he was! He used to rule this world, before the Queen I've been hearing oh so much about took over. Oh, I MUST know more of how you met that ridiculous lunatic! And that's coming from ME, ME! Spamton, oh Spamton, I'd like to have a word with him~!" Jevil looked quite pissed off, his normally jovial expression looking slightly stern.

"I didn't wanna go down there anyway. Just come back, okay? You're kind of carrying us with your defense boost." Kris, with a neutral expression, gave the clown the disk they were gifted by the malignant salesman, and watched as Jevil immediately sprinted off into the basement. They could hear an echoed "Buh bye~! I'll be back in a few hundred words!" As the jester descended into the decrepit basement below...

Jevil entered the musty, rotting cellar. Despite him rarely stepping on the ground, each step he did take left a haunting impact on his feet. It was silent, save for the occasional rustling of his clothes. He didn't have long to do this. His physical form only had a few hours to be out and about before he solidified, just like the young boy and the puzzle freak. Thankfully, that's all he needed. He was getting excited, almost giddy, to interact once more with his old acquaintance. Oh, what a wonderful conversation they'd have!

He didn't walk for too much longer before he found the train station that was buried deep below. Or was it a roller coaster? Whoever had this built clearly had some elaborate roundabout in mind… too bad they were still imprisoned, haha! Jevil walked and floated across the tracks, reaching a room with a decaying robot inside.

He knew this was a bad idea. But when did he ever have good ideas?

Without hesitating, the joker put the disk into the robot. At first, nothing happened, and he was getting impatient VERY quick. He gave the robot a swift kick in the lower area, before stepping back out of the room.

Step…

SLAM! The clown was admittedly caught off guard with how fast the silhouette from above came and pushed him onto his knees. With a small gasp for air, Jevil looked up slowly at the encroaching menace. The jagged movements, the glitchy, unsolidified form… this was him alright.

"KRIS… MY LOYAL [Sponge!] THANK… YOU. THE [Clown Around Town!] I REMEMBER YOUR [Disgusting] FACE. EVERYONE WAS SO [Thrilled] TO SEE YOUR [Calcified] FACE." The massive robotic behemoth loomed over Jevil, rage in his glasses. Spamton NEO.

The clown got up, a smug, shitfaced expression on his mug. He knew damn well that the dorito in front of him was pissed off, so he leaned back in the air to retort. "At least I drink plenty of milk, uee hee hee! As for you, you haven't changed one bit since we last spoke~! Or would it be a byte, a byte? Regardless, I do hope you've given up on the illusion of freedom, freedom~! The only one who can be free is MEEE!"

The robotic menace swung around to the other side of Jevil, making it very clear who was in charge of the conversation. A small concentrated blast of Pipis was fired at the jester, pushing him back with a surprising amount of force. "YOU ACT SMUG, BUT YOU [Crashed our stocks!] AND THEN YOU [Spoiled relations with our Esteemed Partners!] I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU… GOT IN HERE, YOU… [Tuna Fish,] BUT I'M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR [Roundabout!] AGAIN!"

Jevil laughed maniacally at this thought. This guy was mad! Over something that happened how long ago? Why even bother holding a grudge still? Petty, petty! He knew why, and it's why he came back too. "You influenced him. That pretty little kitty. You gave him enough funds to release me into that carousel of bliss and innocence! But I wasn't done, not one bit! And all those years, spent being free… they made me realize something, my dearest Spamton."

The oddly calm tone coming from the jester put Spamton NEO at an incredible amount of unease. "WHAT? WHAT COULD YOUR [Calcified Lump] THINK OF THAT WOULD MEAN ANY GODDAMN THING TO ME?"

"I CAN DO ANYTHING!"

The joker used his latent power to pelt the giant mecha with small white hearts. Spamton was caught off-guard, stumbling back a fair amount. Of course, you have to fight fire with fire, so the robot used his abilities to send out a Big Shot of blue Spamton Head Pipis.

"YOU [Saturated Marketshare!] YOU CAN'T SIMPLY ATTACK ME AND EXPECT IT TO WORK [As seen on TV!] I'M A [BIG SHOT!] [BIG SHOT!!!]"

Jevil hopped up onto the ceiling, clearing the first few Pipis on the lower row heading his way. Unfortunately, the higher row caught him clean in the face as he bounced between the two, making a small Jack-in-the-box melody as he pinged around.

"SPAMTON, MY BELOATHED! I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND, UNDERSTAND, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE TRAPPED IN A CAGE WITH A SHARK, A SHARK! YOU GET BITTEN AND CHEWED UP!"

The fool retaliated by running circles around Spamton, turning into a carousel of horse bullets! The robot, in a surprising feat of puppeteering, dodged the attack almost perfectly… until a stray horsie cut a string, sending the mech's right arm into the horse race. One thing about arms with cannons on them? They fire.

As soon as it happened, Jevil was face to face with a swarm of Pipis all around him. He was stuck. All of them exploded brilliantly, sending the clown flying clean across the rotting tracks and into the wall. Tauntingly, mockingly even, Spamton NEO retorted.

"I'M THE SHARK NOW, JEVIL! I'VE CHEWED UP SO MANY [Failed Buisness Partners] THAT I COULD MAKE A WHOLE [Presentation] OUT OF THEM! STAY OUT OF MY GODDAMN WAY, OR [Sparkle like new!] YOU BRAT."

The buisnessman charged at Jevil, his hands becoming phones. "IT'S FOR YOU." Suddenly, before either of them could react, loud blasts of garbage noise manifest expelled from the phones, attacking the court jester with white blasts of energy. There was nothing he could do to stop this robot's onslaught, it looked like.

"OH SPAMTON, IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? THAT YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S SO POWERFUL RIGHT NOW, NOW? I'D SUGGEST YOU LOOK UP, UP! YOU'RE NOTHING WITHOUT THOSE STRINGS IMPRISONING YOU, UEE HEE HEE! YOU'RE NOT A BIG SHOT, YOU'RE JUST A LAZY FRAUD WHO CAN'T STOP HANGING ON TO HIM! I GUESS SLEEPING FOR 100 YEARS DOESN'T MAKE LITTLE OLD ME MISS MUCH, RIGHT?"

Without warning, Jevil was myseriously gone from his corner. The spamware looked frantically for his target, before being struck in the arm, the leg, and the chest by scythes. Devilsknives. The last knive cut a few strings clean off the puppet, who briefly hit the ground before rising back up.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! [Hyperlink Blocked.] I'M STILL HIS LOYAL ASSOCIATE! HE MAY NOT HAVE TALKED TO ME IN [Employee of The Month for 144 months!] BUT HE'S STILL THERE…"

Jevil interrupted him cleanly and concisely. "FACE IT. YOU'RE NO BIG SHOT ANYMORE, SPAMTON G. SPAMTON. ALL YOU ARE IS A FAILED INVESTMENT, UEE HEE HEE!"

With those words, a purple blast came from behind the clown, striking the robot right in the noggin. He flew back a bit, giving the joker enough time to turn around to meet his esteemed guests.

"Ah, my imprisoners~! Didn't you guys have a Queen to rock-em sock-em?"

Susie immediately cut him off, as she punched him in the arm (causing his head to spring up, naturally.) "Well, Kris over here couldn't shake the feeling things were off. So they forced us down here, and now they're right. Somehow?"

"I know I'm right.. Jevil, who the hell is Spamton?" Kris replied, their worry about the situation starting to rise.

"It's of no concern to you~! His screws were almost as loose as mine, and I don't think it's my job to tighten them~! Uee hee hee! Thank you for the help, but I can do anything~! Even tell you guys that 3 coasters are about to come down and force you guys along for the ride~!"

Ralsei immediately stuttered something out. "Three… what?"

And just like that, with a loud rumbling, the heroes were swept up into 3 old, rusty carts, barrelling down the track. Jevil laughed to himself, proud of what he got to do. "Ah well, it's a shame I can't finish him personally…"

"But oh well! Are you proud, proud? They took care of him…"

"Doctor."

Ao3 Link!

#Deltarune #Deltarune Spoilers #Deltarune Chapter 2 #Jevil #spamton #kris #ralsei #susie #undertale #okay cool thank you byyyyeeeee

17 notes · View notes

kelyon · 3 years

Text

Golden Rings 19: A Friend

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumpelstiltskin receives a visitor

Read on AO3

A family stands before him, more terrified than they want to show. The man holds a top hat in both hands. The woman keeps her arms over their daughter.

“Is it true?” the man asks. “What Regina is threatening, can she do it?”

Slowly, Rumpelstiltskin steps toward the huddled family. It is unlike Jefferson to be so serious, unlike Leona to show anything less than brazen self-confidence. The girl may be too young to know what is happening, but she knows that her parents are afraid and that is enough to make her terrified.

Belle comes up behind him, her hand extended to the child. “Grace,” she says gently, “would you like to visit my horse? Perhaps we could go for a ride.”

The girl looks to her parents. “May I, Mama? Papa?”

“Of course, luv.” Leona releases her grip on her daughter. “Make sure you mind Belle, and don’t get yourself into any trouble you can’t get out of.”

Nodding obediently, the child takes his wife’s hand. Belle gives him an encouraging smile before they go out to the stables. She trusts him to handle the situation on his own. She knows he can assuage their fears.

Once his daughter is gone, Jefferson leaves his wife and comes up to Rumpelstiltskin. He puts his hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. “I’m serious,” he says.

“I know you are, my boy.” Delicately, he extracts himself from the other man’s grip. “This is a serious matter.”

“This queen lady told everyone she’s going to destroy the world.” Leona says what they all know but cannot utter. “Does she really have that much power?”

He cannot face them. He turns away, takes long, slow steps around his dining room before he answers.

“Yes.”

Jefferson crushes the brim of his hat in one hand. After a moment, he gathers himself. “We’ve seen worlds destroyed before, Dark One. It is a terrible thing.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “Yes, you were with me when proud Atlantis sank beneath the waves. A million lives lost in fire and water and lightning. But Regina’s curse is… different. Her purpose is not to destroy the world, but to destroy happiness.”

Leona’s mouth drops open. “And how is killing everyone not the same as all that? Who would be left to be happy, when it’s all over?”

Rumpelstiltskin shakes his head. “No, she wants us alive. Everyone in this world, everyone she considers her enemy. She wants us alive and miserable and trapped in our misery for the rest of time.”

“Gods.” Jefferson collapses into a chair and hangs his head. Leona stands by him and takes his hand into her own.

“Regina will end this world, and take us all to a new one--a land without happy endings. We will all be severed from the people we love, or even if we are near them, we won’t be able to love them.”

“But why everyone?” Leona asks. “Why us? I never did anything to this woman! What’s she got against me?”

Walking over to the couple, he places his hand over where theirs are joined. “You are happy,” he says simply. “The two of you have a love that she will never know--and the love of your child besides that. Regina believes that she will never have happiness as long as anyone else does.”

Leona nods, understanding. “So she’s mad, is she?”

“Yes,” Jefferson answers. His blue eyes look out at nothing as he speaks. “I’ve worked with Regina, before I met you, Leo. Once, she commissioned me to take her and a servant girl to Wonderland. Didn’t tell me that this was going to be a rescue mission to save some old man. You know the rules of the hat, only the number of people that go in can come out again. That was why Regina brought the servant girl. She killed her. Ripped her heart out of her chest and crushed it. As easily as blowing her nose. We left the girl’s body there, in the forest of giant mushrooms. So yeah. As they say in Wonderland, Regina is mad as the March Hare.”

Leona holds her husband in both hands, standing over him as she had stood over her daughter earlier. Wincing at the memory, he rests against her bosom

“What do we do?” For all her comforting posture, Leona looks at Rumpelstiltskin with steely determination. “Can you stop her?”

He raises his hands in a show of helplessness. “Regina is a powerful magic-user and she is on a war-path.”

Hands balled into fists, Leona breaks away from Jefferson and begins to pace. “If my mother were here, she’d hit that woman upside the head with a cauldron, queen or no!”

“Yeah, well Nanny Ogg is from a different world than this one.” Jefferson stays seated in the chair. His hat hangs loosely in his grip.

“It is not hopeless,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “All curses can be broken.”

“Broken after they’ve been cast!” Leona marches up to him, wielding an accusatory finger. “I want to know if you can stop her, stop this curse from ever happening!”

“Leo,” Jefferson stands behind his wife. Gently, he puts his hands on her ample hips and pulls her close to him. “The Dark One is our friend. I’m sure he’s doing everything he can.”

He says nothing. He lets Jefferson’s faith do the talking for him. Jefferson is a clever man, but less shrewd than his wife. The poor boy wants to believe in him, but Leona Ogg has no such sentimentality. She is wise enough to know that if he wanted to stop this curse, it would never have been able to start.

“You should leave,” he tells them quietly. “The three of you should go in the hat, find some world far from here where you can live out the rest of your days together.”

“If Regina can destroy one world, she’ll find a way to destroy others,” Jefferson points out.

He shakes his head. “After the curse is cast, Regina will be stopped. A Savior will come, a force of goodness who will destroy her evil forever.”

“But only after we’ve been cursed?” Leona crosses her arms.

He nods. “Yes. The only way to avoid it is to flee. Leave this world before it leaves you.”

Slowly, Jefferson turns his hat over in his hands. “That makes sense.” He looks to Leona. “Where do you want to go?”

“Lancre, of course. If we can’t live in the home we made for ourselves, we might as well go to Mum’s.”

Jefferson nods. “What do you say, Dark One? Can I offer you and Belle a trip to Discworld?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t know what form my magic will take on a world like that. There is a risk I’ll transform into something horrible and the good people of the Disk World will have to try to slay me.”

Leona snorts. “And it’ll take a few weeks at least to find any ‘good people’ around. We’re not as black and white with the ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ as this place.”

“All the more reason for me to stay here and face this curse as it comes.”

“And Belle will stay with you?”

He gives his friend a rueful grin. “I couldn’t make her leave me if I tried.”

Jefferson looks down at his hat and then looks up again. “Do you really think if we go to Discworld the curse will pass us by?”

He puts his hands over Jefferson’s around the brim. “The best I can promise is that you will be safer.”

Leona’s dark eyes narrow. “‘Safer’ isn’t ‘safe,’ Mister Dark One.”

“No.” Jefferson steps back, away from Rumpelstiltskin and toward his wife. In a motion born from years of practice, he twirls the hat to put it on his head. “But sometimes safer is the best you can hope for.”

“I hope you do get away from the curse,” he tells them honestly. “For it will be a very long time before any good can come out of all this. ”

****

It was strange, to wake up in a bed without Belle. Without even Mrs. Gold’s body, warm and soft beside him. In the month since they had started sleeping in separate bedrooms, Rumpelstiltskin still hadn’t gotten used to waking up alone. It had been a bittersweet torture to spend that much time in bed with a woman who wasn’t Belle. Being without was a milder ache, but an ache nonetheless.

That morning, he met her going up the stairs as he was coming down. Mrs. Gold was still in her pajamas--a new pair he hadn’t seen before. She had a plate of toast in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. So she would eat in her room before she got dressed. That was the opposite of his routine. Ever since their new arrangement, Mrs. Gold had been going out of her way to avoid him.

He wanted to speak to her. He wanted to say something innocuous, even just “Good morning.” Something to make her turn and look at him, say anything in response. He just wanted to see Belle’s face, hear Belle’s voice.

But Mrs. Gold turned away, pressed herself against the banister, and brushed past him as quickly as she could.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed. How strange that he would miss that woman, that he would feel their estrangement so keenly. Before, he had taken for granted that Mrs. Gold wanted to please him, that she sought him out and tried to talk with him. But now she would only speak when he asked her a question. Now she kept to her room when he was in the house. She stayed away from the shop during the day. Wherever he was, his wife made a point to be somewhere else.

Considering how he had treated her, it was no less than he deserved.

After making his breakfast, he sat alone at the far end of a long table. In silence, Rumpelstiltskin read the newspaper and tried to push from his mind how familiar a situation this was. Not with Belle. Once he had her in his castle, she had never avoided him, even when it would have been in her best interest. But before Belle. During those long centuries of isolation, when he had been an enemy of love. When his life was nothing but magic and deals and endless searching for a way to find Bae. When people were nothing but tools to be used, locks to be picked, pieces to be arranged upon a chessboard that stretched out for decades.

Then, he had spent many mealtimes at the head of a table set for one.

When it was time to leave for the day, Mrs. Gold came down to join him. Every morning he gave her a ride into town. She usually kept her face to the window and didn’t make a sound for the whole trip.

She wore charcoal today, a sweater-dress that wrapped snugly around her body. Gold would have sent her out in that with nothing underneath, but she had put on layers of camisoles and blouses. Most of her clothes were flimsy and skimpy, so she wore the pieces on top of each other in a haphazard effort to cover herself.

At least she looked warm.

The clashing dark colors washed out her face, made her look even paler and sadder. She wasn’t wearing cosmetics, or any jewelry besides her wedding ring. Her thick, curly hair hung limply over her shoulders, like a shroud.

Again, Rumpelstiltskin wanted to speak to her. But what could he say? Any comment on her appearance would seem like an attack, any inquiry to her wellbeing would be an invasion. What do you say to someone you’re no longer even pretending to love?

“What do you think you’ll do today?” he tried once they were in the car.

She shrugged and sank further back into the seat, her arms folded over her chest.

“Do you need money?” It seemed a heartless, mercenary solution, but it was all he could safely offer her.

And it worked. Straightening up, Mrs. Gold spoke: “Sure.”

At Storybrooke’s only stoplight, he pulled out his wallet and handed her a wad of bills.

She put them in her purse. “Since you’re paying me, I guess that means you’re satisfied with what you’re getting out of this new deal.”

Rumpelstiltskin gripped the steering wheel. No, he wasn’t satisfied at all. But he wouldn’t be satisfied until Belle was sitting next to him, talking to him. Lonely as he was, he couldn’t ask for Mrs. Gold’s time or attention. It would be too cruel to demand any devotion, when he knew he had no intention of doing the same. He couldn’t love Mrs. Gold. It would be too unfair to ask her to love him again.

He parked the car next to the shop.“You’re doing everything I expected you would, Mrs. Gold.”

“Great.” She zipped up her purse. “That must be why we’re both so fucking happy.”

By the time he turned to look at her, she had already unbuckled her safety belt and slammed the door.

Rumpelstiltskin watched Mrs. Gold walk away. He could go after her, even on his cane. He could shout to get her attention. He could drive up to her and insist she get back in the car. He could make an effort to talk to her, to get her to talk to him. He could try to understand this woman, this curse-creature who occupied Belle’s body, but who seemed to have a mind of her own. He could try to get inside that mind. He could try to see who she was, now that she wasn’t pretending to be what she thought her husband wanted.

But he did nothing. Rumpelstiltskin was a coward down to his bones. No good would come of getting to know Mrs. Gold. He couldn’t risk finding out what she thought of him, what she wanted out of this relationship. They didn’t have a relationship, they didn’t relate to each other.

He had made sure of that.

So Rumpelstiltskin did what he had been doing every day since he’d been let out of the jail cell: He opened the pawn shop, and conducted his business, and waited for the Savior to break the curse.

****

It was dark outside, when the bell rang over the shop door. A spring storm was picking up. Wind sent leaves and debris skittering over the road and sidewalks. Thunder rumbled and heavy clouds pressed down upon the town.

Rumpelstiltskin was polishing the collection of silver on the side counter. At the sound of the bell, he looked up.

And froze.

Jefferson.

It was Jefferson. The tall, broad-shouldered young man who had transported him from world to world for a handsome fee, who had accompanied him on dozens of adventures, who had reminded him that physical pleasure could come with personal affection. The boy who had paved the way for Belle to enter his heart.

How was he here? Hadn’t he taken his family and escaped to the Disk World? Wouldn’t they have been safe there? Gold had no memories of the man who stood before him. He had no idea what Jefferson’s life had been like under the curse. Where was Leona? Where was Grace?

The longer Rumpelstiltskin looked at Jefferson, the more he saw the changes in him. He wasn’t smiling. The boyish good humor was gone. There was no dancing light in his slate blue eyes. He used to stand with his head jauntily cocked to one side, but now he looked straight ahead, level and deadly serious. The man before him looked burdened, weathered and hollowed out.

He was dressed like himself, as much as Storybrooke fashions would allow. He wore a scarf at his throat, as he used to wear a cravat over the leather collar that matched his wife’s. The clothes were well-tailored, expensive. His gray, rain-soaked overcoat had gunmetal leather lapels, very much like a coat Rumpelstiltskin had given him as a gift back in the old world. Jefferson’s scarf, shirt, and waistcoat were all different patterns, all in gray and black.

He wasn’t wearing a hat.

The first time Rumpelstiltskin had met Jefferson, he had entrusted him with a magical hat. The boy had been running away from a woman he didn’t want to marry, a life he didn’t want to live. In his hopelessness, he had sliced a line across his throat with a knife. His dying wish had been to find a world where he could be happy.

That was when the Dark One had made himself known. He had healed the boy’s wounds and given him a hat that would take him to every world with magic. Surely somewhere there would be happiness for a young man who had never fit the mold he had been made for.

And ever since then, Jefferson had been at his service.

Brow lowered, gait heavy, the man approached the counter. He set both hands upon the glass top. A few of his fingers wore wide, silver rings. But no wedding ring. Was he not married in this world? What had happened to Leona Ogg?

“Are you Mr. Gold?”

Quickly recovering from the shock of seeing Jefferson--and seeing him so changed--Rumpelstiltskin returned to his work. “That is the name on the front of the building.”

“But is it who you are?” Jefferson’s voice was different too. His tone was pointed, accusatory.

If he was Mr. Gold, he wouldn’t put up with being spoken to that way. Rumpelstiltskin braced against his side of the counter, arming himself in businesslike courtesy. “And who might you be?”

Jefferson’s face changed as though someone had flipped a switch. He put on the mask of a wide, toothy smile that didn’t meet his eyes. Pushing back from the glass case, Jefferson took exaggerated steps around the shop.

“They call me Dodgson around here.” His voice was too bright. “Chaz Dodgson. I’m a pilot. Normally I fly out of Boston, and I go all over the world. But lately--almost for as long as I can remember--I haven’t been able to leave this tiny town in Maine. Do you think that’s strange, Mr. Gold?”

He made his introduction with rapid-fire delivery. A machine gun, that was what they had in this world. That was the image that came to mind. Wild shooting that blasted forth in short bursts of dazzling, horrible, light.

Then you waited for the smoke to clear, to see what would happen next.

Rumpelstiltskin kept his composure. He made a show of looking down at the silver platter he had been polishing. He saw Jefferson’s reflection in it, warped and distorted.

“I suppose you could say that Storybrooke is rather a strange place, Mr. Dodgson.”

A laugh then. No, a cackle. Rumpelstiltskin had done enough cackling in his time to know the difference. Jefferson let out an agitated, throaty sound that had nothing to do with humor.

“You’re very right, Mr. Gold!” He pointed at him with a manic grin. “Maybe righter than you know!” Then his expression darkened and he turned serious. “Or maybe you’re exactly as right as you know.”

Putting down the polishing rag, Rumpelstiltskin looked up at Jefferson. “Can I help you with something, Mr. Dodgson? Is there something you’re looking for?”

“I’m looking for a lot of things,” he whispered. “And if you can’t help me, I don’t know who can.”

What kind of game was being played here? What did “Dodgson” want with Gold? Obviously, Jefferson was speaking in a cipher. But was it his code? Or was it the curse’s? How should he respond?

He held the man’s gaze and didn’t look away. “What are you looking for?” he said softly.

Jefferson took a step closer. He didn’t look away either. “I hope to every god it’s here, but I just don’t know.”

Finally breaking the gaze, Rumpelstiltskin began to put the polished silver away. “Do you need a gift for someone? Your wife perhaps?”

With a smirk, Jefferson shook his head. “No, this is something I need for myself. What made you think I was married?”

“Oh, aren’t you? I apologize for the assumption.”

“No, I am.” He brought his hand to his throat. “But my wife is, uh, out of town, for now.”

“Traveling?”

“Living with her mother,” Jefferson said. “At least, I hope she’s still there. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”

Leona Ogg hadn’t been born in the old world. Jefferson had met her on an absurd flat planet called the Disk World, where her mother was a powerful hedge witch. Rumpelstiltskin had told them to go to that world, he had thought they would be safe there. If he could believe what Dodgson was telling him, he had only been half-right.

Or maybe two-thirds. One of Gold’s memories flashed into his mind: A little girl, plump and blonde, with merry dark eyes. The very image of her mother. Grace. But in this world she was Paige Lewis, the adopted and cherished daughter of Tim and Mia Lewis.

Why did he have no memories of Dodgson? Where had Jefferson been all this time, while his daughter was being raised by someone else?

“So is this an item for your children, perhaps?” He asked carefully.

Jefferson looked at him, his blue eyes steel and stone. “No,” he said. “I told you before, this is something I need for myself, Mr. Gold.”

Shrugging, Rumpelstiltskin locked the silver behind the case and limped to the other end of the store by the cash register. “Tell me again what it was?”

With a heavy tread, Jefferson moved to the middle of the store. “Tell me what you have.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his hands and grinned like Gold would. “The shop’s inventory is rather extensive,” he said. “If I were to go through an itemized list, we’d be here for quite some time.”

“Alright then,” Jefferson said grimly. “Tell me what you think I need.”

He looked him over again, more than willing to play this game. “An umbrella, perhaps? The rain looks quite nasty.”

“Oh, it’s mad as a March hare, as they say. But I don’t need an umbrella.” He took a step forward. “I need something quite personal. Long-lasting, durable.”

“Maybe a set of luggage then. Didn’t you say you were a traveler?”

“I haven’t gone traveling in a long time.” Jaw clenched, Jefferson took another step closer to Rumpelstiltskin. “For a long time, I wasn’t even able to leave my house.”

Not able? For how long?

“Were you ill, Mr. Dodgson?”

“Yeah.” He grinned without humor. “I was sick in the head. An absolute nutter. I suffered from delusions. Memories that weren’t mine, a life that I had never lived. Can you imagine that, Mr. Gold? Can you imagine?”

“No,” Rumpelstiltskin lied. “Though it looks like you’re doing well now.”

“You trust your eyes?” Jefferson let out a short, stuttering laugh that sounded like he did actually find something funny. “I thought you were smarter than that!”

He straightened up. “What are you looking for, sir?” After a moment’s hesitation, he added, “I can’t help you if you aren’t honest.”

The last few steps to the counter were a stagger. Jefferson almost fell against the display case and stayed bent over. “Don’t you want to know how long I was trapped in my house?” He looked up at him. His eyes were soft now, teary. “How long I was trapped in my own double-mind?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth opened. It couldn’t be. Surely Jefferson couldn’t have suffered like that. Surely even this curse was not that cruel.

He set his hand next to Jefferson’s, not quite close enough to touch. “My boy,” he whispered. “Tell me what you need.”

“Not a spouse, I have one of those.” He seemed exhausted, breathless. “Not a child either. Not a lover or an employer or a benefactor.” Desperate eyes poured into him. “I don’t need a loan shark or a pawnbroker or a landlord.” Still staring, Jefferson took Rumpelstiltskin’s hand and gripped it with all his strength. “I don’t need a genius or a wizard or the fucking Dark One!” That last phrase was said in a gritted whisper. It seemed to take everything out of him. “So you tell me,” he panted. “What do I need?”

For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin said nothing. For the second time in just a few minutes, he felt the shock of seeing Jefferson again. And this man was Jefferson, inside and out. He was awake. He was suffering. He needed…

“A friend,” he answered the question at last. “Is that what you came in here to find?”

Slowly straightening up, Jefferson nodded. “Is there one here?”

“Yes.” If it weren’t for his cane and the glass case between them, he would have embraced the boy like he used to. “Yes, Jefferson. I’m here.”

He covered his face with his hands and broke down sobbing. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t move. How should he respond to this? What could he do?

He could do what he couldn’t do with Mrs. Gold. He could comfort this man. His friend.

Ankle throbbing, he walked to the other side of the counter. Jefferson looked up, his blue eyes brimming with tears. This was the Jefferson that Rumpelstiltskin had known. The boy he had rescued on that fateful day in the forest. One of the rare souls whose desperation filled his dark heart with pity, and not contempt.

“My boy,” he whispered. He opened his arms and Jefferson embraced him.

Though Jefferson was taller than Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One had always wielded the power in their relationship. It was the only way he had felt safe. Their physical dimensions hadn’t changed, but marrying Belle had rearranged Rumpelstiltskin’s perspective on safety and power. He let the bigger man hug him, envelop him in his need. He drew strength from Jefferson’s strength. Even though Jefferson was younger and bigger and fitter than Gold, he had come to him for help.

And Rumpelstiltskin would do everything he could to help him.

When they parted, he held Jefferson’s face in his hands. Coarse stubble prickled against his palms. Full lips parted slightly. Rumpelstiltskin wiped away his tears with his thumbs.

“How did this happen?” he asked softly. “Why didn’t you go to the Disk World?”

“We did.” Jefferson sniffed. Rumpelstiltskin took the silk pocket square out of his suit coat to give him. “We left as soon as we could. We lived there for months. But one night, I went to sleep next to Leo in Nanny Ogg’s cottage, and the next morning I woke up alone in a massive house I couldn’t leave.”

“You said that before. You couldn’t leave?”

He shook his head. “For twenty-eight years!” His face twisted and he pulled away. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t lower his hands. “You were locked in the curse, but I was locked in that house. I knew who I was, I remembered everything, I remembered too much!”

He rested his hand on his damp coat. “So that’s where Dodgson came from?”

Jefferson nodded, took a breath. “I had two lives in my head,” he whispered. “They both seemed impossible to the other. There were… months where I didn’t know what was real. In Discworld there was a poet who dreamed that he was a butterfly, and when he woke up, he didn’t know if he was a man who dreamed he was a butterfly, or a butterfly who was dreaming he was a man. That was my life. For a very long time.”

“Jefferson.” He squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked at him, his expression drained. “No one else in this town was like that. Believe me, I had a lot of time to look around. Any theories as to why I was so lucky?”

He shook his head. “It’s Regina’s curse, maybe she--”

“It’s your curse,” he interrupted. “I’ve had some time to think about that. Regina is powerful, but she couldn’t have made something like this. That had to be you.”

He took a step back, resting both hands on his cane. Twenty-eight years of isolation, of knowing that time wasn’t moving, but being aware of every moment. Twenty-eight years in a world he didn’t understand, separated from the people who mattered most to him.

Utterly alone.

No wonder Jefferson had changed.

He couldn’t fool him anymore. He didn’t want to. The poor boy deserved better than that. He deserved the truth.

“It was my curse,” he admitted. “Regina cast it, but I created it. That doesn’t mean I have any control over it.”

“How is that possible?” Jefferson growled. “How can you, of all people, not have control over everything?”

“Because, my boy, all magic comes at a price. The curse that destroyed our world and created this town is the most powerful piece of spellmaking I’ve ever touched. Part of casting it was sacrificing the heart of the thing you love most--and there are more prices yet to pay. I’m not willing to lose everything, but Regina was. So it is her curse. She rules this land until it breaks.”

Jefferson’s jaw clenched. “You said something like that before, back home. You said something about a Savior. It’s that Sheriff, isn’t it? The woman with the yellow bug?”

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. “How did you know that?”

“She came to town in October. That’s when things started changing around here. The clock on the library started moving, people started doing things they haven’t done before--not in twenty-eight years of living the same lives. Now there are people in town now I’ve never seen before.”

“Who?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. “The only new person I’ve seen is Emma.”

Jefferson shrugged. “There’s the guy carrying on with the schoolteacher, I don’t know who he is.”

“That’s Prince Charming,” he explained. “He was in the hospital until just after Emma came to town, in a coma.”

“Weren’t you all?” Jefferson said dryly. “Okay, I’ve got another one for you. Around New Year’s, a guy rode in on a motorcycle, definitely an out-of-towner. He stuck around too. Do you know who he is?”

Rumpelstiltskin’s lips parted, but he said nothing. A stranger came into Storybrooke? That shouldn’t have happened. This place was supposed to be isolated from the rest of the Land Without Magic. The only people who could enter were people who were already connected to the old world, people who were born there.

But if there was a young man who could enter the town freely, who had willingly stayed in this cursed place...

Before he could ask Jefferson more questions, the bell over the shop door rang again.

“My God, it is cats and dogs out there!” Mrs. Gold stood on the front carpet. Water dripped off the plastic shopping bags in her hands. The rain had plastered all her thin layers against her skin. She looked bedraggled and cold, and Rumpelstiltskin’s first desire was to get her out of those wet things and into a bath, to give her hot chocolate and wrap her in a blanket.

It was only when Jefferson took a step back that Rumpelstiltskin realized how close they had been. Too close for any two men to be standing together in this world, and far too close for Gold to allow anyone who wasn’t wearing handcuffs.

Mrs. Gold’s crystalline eyes took in the sight of them. Jefferson clutched Gold’s pocket square in his fist. Rumpelstiltskin’s hands still held out in mid-air, reaching for the younger man’s body. In an endless instant, he saw the shock on her face, the realization, the anger.

Then he saw her close herself off. It was like the turn of a lock, or the extinguishing of a flame. She went dead behind the eyes. When she spoke, her voice was thin.

“Sorry to interrupt your business, Mr. Gold. I just needed to come in out of the rain.”

“Of course,” he said automatically. He was too stunned to move. “But you weren’t interrupting anything, Mrs. Gold.”

Her lips pressed together at that. She said nothing, but looked up and down the length of Jefferson’s body. Then she moved past them both to get to the back of the shop.

Once she was behind the curtain, Rumpelstiltskin allowed himself to sigh. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. Though that was not the worst way this situation could have gone, it was still far from optimal.

Jefferson let out a low whistle. With a meaningful glance to the back office, he said: “So can I expect your call about the merchandise I requested?”

Limping back to the cash register, Rumpelstiltskin pulled out a notepad and a pen. He passed them over the counter to Jefferson. “Certainly, Mr. Dodgson. If you’ll give me your address, I can have it delivered to your house.”

He wrote down a series of numbers and an address: 316 Angus Drive. “Just let me know when it’s ready.” His voice lowered. “I’ll be waiting.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. “As soon as I can, my boy.”

#golden rings #rumbelle #mad gold #rumbelle fic

11 notes · View notes

jornthur · 4 years

Text

“Unshaken” Chapter I

Originally posted: March 9, 2020

Arthur Morgan x Reader, Slow-Burn Romance

Summary: You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

•••••

Gunshots.

You could hear gunshots ring out in the sky. You looked up at your older brother Austin who had been leaning against a tree reading a book as you were picking herbs.

Your brother looked up, having heard them as well.

“We need to get outta here,” he said, closing his book and rushing over to the wagon. He hopped into the driver’s seat as he motioned you towards him. “Let’s go, Y/N!”

Standing up from where you were kneeling you stuffed the plants you had picked into your satchel and quickly climbed onto the wagon next to him. Austin grabbed the reins of the white Shire and started steering the horse away.

As you made your way past O’Creagh’s Run, you suddenly heard men shouting from the same direction the gunshots had come from. One voice sounded angry, but then you heard a second voice sounding out in pain.

You put your hand on Austin’s arm, “Wait!”

He pulled back on the reins, giving you a puzzled look. “For what?”

You bit your lip in hesitation, unsure whether or not you wanted to find out what was going on, what if something had gone horribly wrong for an unfortunate stranger? You eyed the carbine repeater lying on the foot rest.

“We need to leave ’fore we’re caught up in whatever mess is going on over there,” Austin said harshly though gritted teeth, interrupting your thoughts.

Another pained cry rang out through the night sky, and curiosity instantly got the better of you. You snatched the reins from your brother and before he realized what you were up to, you immediately began steering the wagon in the direction the sounds were coming from, straight toward the mountain east of the lake.

“What in the hell are you doin’, Y/N!?” Austin shouted over the whipping wind as you sped the wagon around the lake towards the mountain. Austin lifted a hand to keep his hat in place as he used the other to try and regain control of the reins.

You completely ignored him however, slapping his hand away as you snapped the reins again, getting the horse to go even faster. You had no idea what came over you, but there was no changing your mind. You’d heard someone in pain, and every instinct you had wanted to try and help. Whether it be real or a trap, you had a rifle for a reason, didn’t you?

As you drew closer to the sounds, you could’ve sworn you saw a man with dirty blonde hair disappearing into the forest. He was swearing and snarling to himself, his voice similar to the angry shouts you’d heard, but he was alone. The other voice, the one that had sounded so distressed … were they still up there?

With a bad feeling in your gut you snapped the reins again.

Finally, you reached the foot of the small mountain, and as soon as you got to a rocky area where the wagon couldn’t travel any further, you leapt off, grabbing Austin’s rifle before he could say a word. Following the sounds, you began to climb the large rock. You had no idea what was going through your mind, forgetting about anything and everything around you except for the noises. You followed them up a steep hill until you reached a lone tree.

All you could hear were pained grunts as you got closer, but they seemed to be getting weaker and weaker.

Walking around the corner of the rocks … you stopped right in your tracks when you saw a large man lying on the hard ground as the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. You let out a soft breath, approaching cautiously.

His head was turned toward the coming dawn, so he didn’t see you as you came over.

The man was badly injured, covered in blood. Cuts and bruises stuck out on his pale skin all over his body. The man’s breathing was weak, the rising and falling of his chest slowing down more and more until it stopped … he didn’t seem to be moving …

You ran over and fell to your knees, placing the rifle on the ground next to you.

His eyes were closed, his face a pale mask of death. Bending over him you put your ear to his chest. He was no longer breathing, and his heartbeat was slowing down.

Instinct immediately set in, and the doctor in you took over.

With no time to lose you opened your satchel and rummaged through several of the small glass jars until you found the right ones, two small vials filled with several mixed herbs. With precious seconds you poured out the contents into your palm, rubbed the herbs between your hands vigorously and grabbed the water flask hanging from your belt.

Reaching over you placed a gentle hand to his cheek, turning his head so he was facing you. His skin was so cold against your touch, and you couldn’t help but notice the blood that stained your fingers. You shook the thought of fear aside and opened his mouth, placing the now crushed herbs on his tongue. Holding up his head, you held up the flask’s lid to his lips and poured the water into his mouth, making sure that the herbs were swallowed.

The man put up no fight whatsoever. He didn’t even open his eyes. You had no clue if you were already too late. But whatever hope there was left, the herbs you had given him would give him a chance. The crushed herbs would let out a chemical that, when the types of plants were mixed and consumed, acted as a drug to speed up the heart’s beating and make it easier to breathe to keep one alive no matter how weak they were.

But only for a little while.

“Y/N, what the hell do you think you’re doin’!” Austin shouted as he ran over to you. “That man might be dangerous!” He snatched the rifle off the ground and pointed it right at the man’s chest.

That made you angry. Grabbing the barrel of the rifle you snatched it out of your brother’s hold, throwing the gun’s strap over your shoulder. “Shut the hell up and help me take him to the wagon, Austin!” You snapped.

Austin’s face went passive. Once you began cursing he knew you were not a woman to be messed with. He shot a glare at you and without saying another word he came over and helped you lift the man up. It was a struggle, but the two of you managed to rush him back down to the wagon. As soon as you reached it, you climbed into the back, making room by moving over several of the crates that had been stacked together. When there was finally enough room Austin helped you lift the man up into the back and you laid him down gently, making sure he was as comfortable as possible.

“Take the reins, Austin. Get us back to the cabin, and be quick about it!” You said firmly.

By the expression on your brother’s face you knew he wanted to argue with you, but thankfully he didn’t. Minutes were precious, and every second felt like a stab to the gut as you looked down at the man lying at your feet. Austin climbed into the driver’s seat as you lowered yourself to your knees and looked after the stranger. The snap of reins was heard and the wagon lurched forward, gaining high speed once again as it reached the trail.

The wind was whipping your hair around but you paid no mind as you looked down at the mysterious man lying next to you.

Everything around you seemed to disappear in that moment as you took him in.

In your rush to help him, you hadn’t paid any attention to the man’s features.

His chestnut-brown hair and short rough beard were completely disheveled, his dark thick eyebrows drawn down in pain. His eyes and cheeks were incredibly sunken to the point that he almost looked skeletal. His pale skin looked extremely rough and weathered, mottled in several areas that you could see. There were several cuts along his face and neck as well as his arms, and you were almost afraid to see what other wounds he might have beneath his bloodied clothes.

You reached out and laid a gentle hand on his forehead, the skin there was starting to heat up very quickly, was it a fever? You leaned over until your ear was over his cracked lips. He was breathing again, but it was so weak that it frightened you.

Opening your satchel, you pulled out your stethoscope. Putting it on, you laid the metal disk over his heart — it was beating relatively better and more frequently than it had earlier. You moved the disk around his chest to listen to his breathing. It was still weak, the airways sounding as if they were struggling.

Something wasn’t right.

Reaching into your satchel again, you took out a wooden tongue depressor. The sun was just starting to come up, and the light from the lantern hanging from the wagon also helped you to see as you opened his mouth with the small wooden tool and pressed down on his tongue.

Your heart dropped.

Tuberculosis.

There was blood and sores in the back of his throat; there was no mistaking what it was. Quickly you grabbed another herb from your satchel and placed it on his tongue. You held the flask up to his mouth, pouring water into it to get him to swallow.

He didn’t.

Was he losing the fight?

Again you lifted his head, angling it so that the water could travel down freely. The man suddenly coughed, water sputtering out over his dry lips. He swallowed, and you checked to see if the herb had been consumed. After seeing that there was nothing in his mouth, you let out a sigh of relief. You laid his head back down to let him rest, monitoring him the rest of the way to the cabin to make sure he stayed alive.

After what felt like an eternity, Austin pulled the wagon up to your cabin. Normally the trip would’ve taken much longer, but your brother knew how to ride a wagon at high speeds better than anyone else you knew.

Austin got off the driver’s seat and walked around to the back of the wagon. “This shit is crazy,” you heard him say underneath his breath.

“Excuse me?” You snapped.

He shot a glare at you. “You just hear gunshots and you suddenly decide it’s a good idea t’go find out what it was? You could’ve been hurt, Y/N!”

You didn’t have time for this. “This man is dying, Austin! Please save your petty quarrels for later and help me get him inside!”

He grunted but thankfully didn’t argue any further as he helped you carry him off the back of the wagon, him carrying the man by the torso and you by his ankles. The two of you walked through the front door and carried him into the sitting room.

“Lay him down on the couch,” you said, and Austin led you both over to the long red couch in front of the fireplace.

You laid him out across the thick cushions on his back, placing him down as gently as you could, making sure the man was as comfortable as he could possibly be. “Please get a fire going, Austin?” You asked your brother as you tucked a fluffed pillow underneath the man’s head.

Austin muttered under his breath but he went to do as you asked. You were grateful to have such a loving brother. Even though he could be a pain in the ass, he was still a gentle soul deep down, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Shaking that thought away, you wasted no time. After you were sure that the man was settled, you ran over to your desk and rummaged through all the the vials in one of the top drawers. You finally found the one you were looking for, and then you grabbed your surgical tray, snatching up all the tools that you needed and placing them on the metal surface. A syringe, a pump attached to a tube, cotton, alcohol, fresh cloths, a large jug of medicinal liquid, and bandages.

Rushing back over, you set the tray on the small table next to the couch, placing the spare cloths on the side table. You grabbed the syringe from the tray, and with precious seconds to spare you pierced the rubber of the lid, drawing the liquid from the vial into the small barrel as you pulled back on the plunger. Next, you leaned over and prodded his inner arm with your index finger until you found a large vein. Once you did, you cleaned the skin with some alcohol and you stuck the needle in, pushing down on the plunger.

The large man let out a deep grunt, and you looked over to see his dark brows drawn down tight, his lips peeled back over his teeth in discomfort. You felt terrible for causing him more pain, but this procedure needed to be done.

After the syringe was empty, you placed it back on the tray. Grabbing some cotton, you pressed it to the injection you had made to keep any more blood from escaping.

Austin came back in with a few logs and walked across the room to set them up in the fireplace. As he got the fire going, you wrapped a bandage around the man’s arm to keep the cotton in place.

You placed your stethoscope back on and listened to his heart and lungs once more, the man was breathing, but every inhale sounded like a battle to get the oxygen his body so desperately needed.

You turned toward your brother as he was finishing up with building the fire. “Austin, I need your help with this next task.”

He stood up and faced you. Even though he looked a bit upset, he asked “What is it?”

“I have to flush his lungs out.”

He looked confused then. “What’s he got?”

You sighed. “He has Tuberculosis.”

Austin’s eyes widened, “Are you sure you need to be treatin’ that?”

“I’ve done it before.”

“On animals!” He snapped.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He let out a long and exasperated sigh. “Fine, what’ya need me t’do?”

“I need you to get him on his side and hold him still. I’m going to set up the equipment I need and get the pump ready.”

Austin nodded as he walked over to the man and adjusted his position as you got all the necessities ready to prepare the pump. This part was indeed scary since you had never performed this procedure on a human, though you would never admit that fear to your brother. “Is he ready?”

“Ready as he’s ever gon’ be.” Austin replied.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You knelt at the foot of the couch, the pump ready in your hand. “Just make sure he doesn’t struggle.” You said. Austin had helped you hold animals still during your procedures several times so you knew he would be a big help with this.

Austin gave a small nod, and walked behind the couch to lean over and grip the top of the man’s head in one hand and wrap the other arm around the man’s chest. You weren’t sure how this was going to go or end up, but it was more than worth a try to save a life, if you could.

Your heartbeat was racing with what you were about to do, and you knew you had to be quick. Taking another deep breath, you stuck the long narrow tube down his throat. The man immediately began choking, his limbs kicking from the sudden lack of what little oxygen it had been trying to get. But his struggles were weak due to his state. You began pumping the liquid through the tube as fast as you could, all the while Austin helped keep him still as he held him down.

As soon as the medicine hit his lungs, the man immediately coughed it back up — but that was a good sign. You knew the medicine had washed out his airways, coating the inside and getting to work right away on killing off the bacteria. Now all you had to do was wait; the properties would start going to work on fighting the disease that had built in his lungs. There would need to be several more treatments done, as well as on the rest of his body, but this was a good start.

You pulled the tube from his mouth and placed it back on the tray, and the man coughed and sputtered. As soon as the fit was finished, Austin let go of the man and readjusted him to his previous position. Straightening back up, he walked back to the fireplace to tend to the flames.

Grabbing a fresh cloth from the metal tray, you reached over and cleaned the man’s face, wiping away the mess that had been made, then you leaned down and wiped away the liquid that had been coughed out and spilled onto the floor. When that task was finally complete, you stood to your feet and discarded the wet cloth back onto the tray, taking the supplies into the washroom to clean them and wash your hands.

Once you were finished, you made your way back into the sitting room and knelt down on the floor so you could study the man’s face. His expression was relaxed, his brows and lips no longer tightened in pain. Placing your ear on his chest, you listened closely to the man’s breathing … it was steady. Still rough, but it was already much better than it had been before.

You let out a sigh of relief, then looked over your shoulder to see Austin stoking the flames with a metal poker. You smiled at your brother, “Thank you, Austin,” you said, your breath almost catching. No matter how tough he tried to act, what he just did to help you save this man truly meant a lot.

He looked back at you, his eyes cold. He parted his lips, but he didn’t say a word. Suddenly, he stood, tossing the poker to the floor before walking out of the room.

His mood hurt, but you couldn’t let yourself be bothered. Austin might not like it, but at the moment all you cared about was making this stranger well.

You turned back to face the man, but when you looked down at his face, you noticed that his eyes were open again.

They were looking right at you.

Your heart nearly skipped a beat, being this close … his eyes — his eyes were the most beautiful color you had ever seen in your life …

“Um — I — Hi, mister,” you said, unable to hold back the crack in your voice. You decided it was because of all the action from earlier, and not those eyes. Definitely not.

The man groaned, opening his mouth, but no sound came out as his lips moved. Was he trying to speak?

“Please, mister,” you said softly, trying to soothe him as you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “don’t say anything. I need you to rest for me, alright?”

He didn’t listen, however, and he let out a grunt as he tried to speak again. “H-h- … h-how-,” he seemed to try and swallow, “Wh-where—,” his voice suddenly cracked as another coughing fit similar to the one from earlier came over him.

You quickly grabbed one of the spare cloths from the side table and held it to his mouth as he struggled through the coughing fit. You felt terrible as you watched his body curl into a fetal position through the violent shaking, but you did your best to try and comfort him through it, pushing his hair away from his face and stroking his shoulder.

After what felt like an eternity, his body finally settled, and you cleaned off his face again. Once you were done, you grabbed the thick wool blanket off the back of the couch and laid it over him, tucking it beneath the cushions to make sure he felt as safe and secure as possible. His body had gone limp, and he looked completely exhausted.

You let out a soft sigh as you stood to your feet, taking the dirty cloth back into the washroom to discard it and wash your hands once more. When you came back into the sitting room, the man was looking at you again.

You stilled as he stared at you with those brilliant blue eyes of his. “Wh-where … am …. I?” He said, his deep voice extremely rasped and gravelly as he spoke one word with each breath.

You rushed back over to the couch and knelt by his side, “Don’t worry, mister, you’re safe here,” you said softly, giving him a small smile as you reached out to stroke his shoulder, continuing in your efforts to soothe him.

He grimaced as he grunted in pain again, “Who … are … you?”

You wished he wouldn’t speak so he could rest, but you figured he wasn’t going to relax until he had some answers. “I found you up on a mountain near O’Creagh’s Run. You were dying, and we brought you back here.” You pushed a stray hair away from his brow. “Please don’t speak anymore. You need to rest, you’re safe here.”

He blinked, those blue-green eyes of his gazing straight up at you. “Your … name?”

You looked at him, a little bewildered that he would ask that when he was so weak. You gave another gentle smile, “My name is Y/N.”

Those eyes squinted as he took you in, seeming to study you further.

Finally, he gave a small smile then, opening his mouth once more.

“Arthur.”

•••••

— To Be Continued

#unshaken #chapter 1 #part 1 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #slow burn #romance #arthur morgan #fanfic #red dead fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #red dead #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine

66 notes · View notes

the-mill-kat · 4 years

Text

Unshaken Chapter I

Arthur Morgan x Reader (18+) Slow Burn Romance

“Unshaken” Masterlist “Unshaken” AO3

Posted: March 9, 2020

A/N: Today is my birthday, and I decided to make my very first Arthur Morgan x Reader story. This will be a long one with more to come! I hope you enjoy!

You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

Gunshots.

You could hear gunshots ring out in the sky. You looked up at your older brother Austin who had been leaning against a tree reading a book as you were picking herbs.

Your brother looked up, having heard them as well.

“We need to get outta here,” he said, closing his book and rushing over to the wagon. He hopped into the driver’s seat as he motioned you towards him. “Let’s go, Y/N!”

You put your hand on Austin’s arm, “Wait!”

He pulled back on the reins, giving you a puzzled look. “For what?”

“We need to leave ’fore we’re caught up in whatever mess is going on over there,” Austin said harshly though gritted teeth, interrupting your thoughts.

With a bad feeling in your gut you snapped the reins again.

Finally, you reached the foot of the small mountain, and as soon as you got to a rocky area where the wagon couldn’t travel any further, you leapt off, grabbing Austin's rifle before he could say a word. Following the sounds, you began to climb the large rock. You had no idea what was going through your mind, forgetting about anything and everything around you except for the noises. You followed them up a steep hill until you reached a lone tree.

All you could hear were pained grunts as you got closer, but they seemed to be getting weaker and weaker.

Walking around the corner of the rocks ... you stopped right in your tracks when you saw a large man lying on the hard ground as the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. You let out a soft breath, approaching cautiously.

His head was turned toward the coming dawn, so he didn’t see you as you came over.

The man was badly injured, covered in blood. Cuts and bruises stuck out on his pale skin all over his body. The man's breathing was weak, the rising and falling of his chest slowing down more and more until it stopped … he didn’t seem to be moving ...