Chapter Text
Author's Note: Hi, friends, I'm alive! If you liked the dark Ghost from my Possession story, you'll like this one. :)
Been a couple years since I've been active, thought I'd get back into the swing of things slowly, so this one will probably be 2-3 chapters long. Gonna be updating / posting more new stuff coming up. Please be kind when reading as I will likely need to do some additional edits.
Warning that this story will have some non-con/coerced consent elements. Hope you all enjoy ! <3
You stared at yourself in the floor length antique mirror and didn’t recognize yourself, but not for the reason it should’ve been.
Your hair was elegantly pinned and curled perfectly, your makeup flawless and classic. Your wedding dress was simple; the beautiful satin hugged your curves, the deep neckline was just sexy enough without being too much, the buttons down the back were timeless , the train that fanned out from your lower back was gorgeous . The veil pinned up in your hair alone was stunning , but with it fanned out behind you for your inspection, it was certainly the icing on top.
Everyone had used those words to describe you all day: Flawless. Beautiful. Sexy. Timeless. Gorgeous. Stunning.
You thought you wouldn’t recognize yourself because of how especially beautiful you looked…but that wasn’t it.
For the life of you, you just couldn’t help the light frown on your face, the worry on display in the crinkles on your forehead. You couldn't recognize yourself because everything was perfect, and you still had a misplaced look of unhappiness.
You looked like a…like a ghost of yourself. Your mind bit bitterly back at you when you said that word, knowing the pull it had on your heart.
You’d asked your bridesmaids, the photographer, your future mother in law- everyone to leave the room, to give you just a few minutes alone. You needed to breathe, needed just a minute to collect yourself, talk yourself into a smile, remind yourself of the fact that this was the happiest day of your life. It had to be.
…..Right?
Nervous hands smoothed your skirt as you forcibly did the same with your expression, pushing the frown away with a deep breath and relaxing the wrinkle in your forehead with the thought that your soon to be husband was a good man who loved you, despite maybe not truly seeing you.
A cool breeze drifted in from the open balcony door, the sound of busy London streets below drifted into the old church attic dressing room where you stood. Fear wracked through your chest when you recognized the intrusive thought running through your mind to just climb down the thick ivy and make your escape-
Escape ?
Turning back to the mirror, you let out one final breath. No. The ceremony would be over and done with soon enough-
Your eyes caught sight of a familiar shape in the shadows behind you, but that was impossible. It was your mind playing tricks, your subconscious trying a final attempt to drag you from this church. But the figure moved, taking a few steps towards you from the corner of the room.
“Simon?” Your voice was soft, amazed, lost.
You turned to him as he approached, taking in the sight of him as if he moved in slow motion. He wore a black surgical face mask in place of his usual skull balaclava, as he’d done years ago anytime he had to go someplace where it just wouldn’t do to wear the full face mask.
His dirty blonde hair was just slightly messy, some pieces falling down over his forehead. You took in what he was wearing then; a long sleeve black shirt, black cargo pants tucked into heavy black boots laced all the way up, black gloves on his hands.
Ghost’s eyes were dark on you as he approached, taking in the sight of you in your gown, your bouquet just off to the side of you on a rustic vanity you’d sat at for hours earlier, having your hair and makeup done just so.
As beautiful as you looked, as much as he’d missed you, the whole scene before him made him sick.
You took the smallest step back as he approached, “Simon, what are you doing here?” He made a small movement to pull something from his back pocket - a blue towel - a wet patch in its center. Your hands gripped your skirt as your heart dropped. You took the first step to turn towards the door then, your mouth wide open to scream-
Ghost’s strong arm looped around the front of your waist, ripping you back harshly against his chest and his other hand, holding the blue rag, found its mark over your mouth and nose.
Your hands pulled at his unyielding arm, his arm wrapped around your waist held you with a hungry intensity. You tasted the strangely sweet liquid as it squeezed past your open lips. Desperate hands moved to try to pull the towel from your face, your nails biting into his arm as much as you could manage while you tried to hold your breath.
“Don’t fight me, love,” his dark voice spoke into your ear, his tone sickly sweet despite what he was doing, “just take a breath for me.” His voice was soft, soothing. Your lungs burned as you tried to resist, but you knew better than to think you’d actually be able to get out of his hold.
All during the years you’d been together, you knew what he did for work, what he was capable of doing, what you never thought he’d do to you .
The burning from holding your breath finally became too much. Your hands finally stopped trying to pull his own from your mouth as you sucked in the first breath, finding the smell to be strangely nice. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, maybe something harsh like rubbing alcohol, something unpleasant and horrifying and sterile.
The lightheadedness kicked in almost immediately. You didn’t fight it, you couldn’t .
So you let your head press back against his chest, your one hand winding down over his arm around your waist, the other reached up shakily to cup his masked cheek.
There was an eerie calmness in your head now, the calmest you’d been all day. You couldn’t help the small feeling of relief that silence brought you.
“There’s my girl,” he said, watching as your body grew more relaxed against him, “take one more breath for me,” he coached you as his fingers around your waist opened and took your fingers between them, holding them tight as yours grew weaker, “I’ve got you.” You hesitated for a moment, instinct screaming at you not to take that breath.
It wasn’t long before the burning sensation filled your lungs again, screaming for another breath. “Come on, love,” he prompted again, “one more and it’ll be over.” His voice was soft against your temple, his warm breath washing over your skin.
You missed his voice. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his voice. His harsh accent. The insistence of his instructions that demanded that you submit.
Would it be over? Would this all be a bad dream? And not just this part, but the whole day; all the worry and second guessing and…
It was getting hard to think straight.
You pulled in a second breath finally, “ Oh , good fucking girl,”his voice was filled with the same relief you were feeling. Your knees shook as your vision started to fade to blackness, fear slowly trickled in as you lost all self awareness. Your hand fell away from his cheek. His body was like a cage around you as you went completely limp in his arms.
Your hearing was the last thing to go, with the last words you heard being, “God, I missed you.” The sound of a muffled kiss- it must’ve been pressed to your forehead, but you couldn’t feel it.
Touch was the first sense to return to you.
Gentle strokes of your hair, knuckles brushing against your cheek, a cool breeze.
You felt the warmth of the hand touching you, the push and pull of your lungs, your fingers as they grasped at the smooth fabric at your side and rib cage. A familiar fabric, one you’d been running your fingers over for months…
But there was no ‘you’ - or, there wasn’t a ‘you’ in this moment. There wasn’t enough of you there to be you . You were the hand holding your cheek, the breeze blowing in from the window. You were only what you could perceive. It made you feel strangely calm and terrified in the same.
Forcing yourself to pull in a deep breath, you brought your hand to the warm hand that cupped your cheek, holding it against your skin as you tried to open your eyes. Everything was blurry and out of focus. It was too hard to try to make out the shape; too exhausting to keep your lids open.
It took several more breaths, more brushes of the thumb over your cheekbone, more grasps of the fabric before you tried opening your eyes again. The shapes around you were still blurry, but you had more energy now to keep them open until your sight started to slowly clear.
Your head ached lightly, your throat dry as you made out the person kneeling at your side. “Simon…?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. The hand that held his to your cheek tried to squeeze his lightly, but the effort barely had any strength to it.
“I’m here,” his tone was calm, his voice softer than usual, “how are you feeling?”
Ghost’s form had sharpened enough in your vision for you to make out his eyes on you, searching your half lidded ones as you slowly came out of that fogged state. You looked around behind him, seeing an unfamiliar, large bedroom.
Plain, quaint, cozy.
“Where…where are we?” You asked, pulling your hand away from his and struggling to push yourself upright on the mattress you laid on. Your arms were weak and shaky, weaker than you ever remember feeling before.
“Why are you here-” As you sat up, you looked down and caught sight of your dress, your breath hitched.
You’d been in your dressing room, getting ready to walk down the aisle, when…
Your heart nearly broke through your chest, adrenaline flooding your veins.
You turned to your left, where the breeze had been coming from, through an open window you barely saw the top of the old stone church far in the distance, across a busy London. Through slightly cloudy skies, you could see the sun setting on the city.
You looked back at Ghost from where he remained on his knees by your bedside, his eyes serious as they searched for your reaction. The same black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face, making the rest of his expression impossible to read.
“No,” you whispered to him, your eyes shifting back and forth between both of his, shaking your head ever so slightly. He didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
You forced yourself up on your feet, willing your limbs to obey you, the adrenaline from your shock being the only reason you were able to stand at all. Ghost stood as you did, “You shouldn’t be up yet.”
Pushing a hand to his chest to try and force him away from you as you took a step forward towards the bedroom door, you forced your legs to carry you to take hold of the door knob. Your legs shook with every step, the weight of your dress pulling you down like quicksand, your head reeling as your heart rate rose further.
Ghost still stood at the bedside, his jaw clenched as he watched you struggle to cross the room. His fist clenched at his side as you turned the knob, only to find it locked, with no clear way to unlock it. “Simon,” you panted, suddenly feeling flushed and hot. You couldn’t catch your breath as you came to a dark realization.
Your knees threatened to give out on you, the heels you still wore made it even more difficult to stay steady than it would’ve been to begin with in your state. You turned back to him, pressing your back to the door for any sense of stability as the room spun, “Simon, please,” you begged, “please unlock the door.” Your arms clung to the door lightly behind you.
Your wedding dress felt like it was pulling you down to the ground under its weight, the muscles of your legs shaking as you slowly sank towards the floor. Ghost crossed the room quickly, taking careful hold of your waist to hold you up. Your hands held onto his muscled arms, desperate for his strength, his steadiness.
Tears began to well in your eyes, “Why?” You asked breathlessly, “Why did you-” your vision blurred again as your tears began to stream down your cheeks, “Why would you-” Ghost’s hold on you tightened as you were able to hold less and less of your weight up.
Searching his eyes, you could see the answer plainly.
Deep in his normally cold blue eyes, you saw concern, care, love .
That same love that was there years ago, the same one that gave you everything, except those things you always wanted, always begged him for.
Your name was soft on his lips, and you knew by the tone that you were right; he’d come back for you. Three years too late.
You shook your head slowly at him, “No,” your voice was still soft and strained, still pleading, still questioning, “ no , Simon.” Your legs fully gave out then, Ghost held you tightly, slowly lowering you both to the ground, if only to give you more stability and room to breathe.
You sat back against the door, your hands moving to his forearms as he pulled away from his hold on you, keeping his arms held out so as to not lose touch with you. “You-you stole me from my wedding?!”
His eyes were soft on you as he watched your tears stream down your cheeks, “For what?” You nearly sobbed, “You never wanted any of this. You never wanted this with me. Why would you take this from me? Why take this from me again ?”
“I saw your face in the mirror, how you stared out the balcony.” His voice was darker now, defensive, more frustrated, “You were looking for a way out, so don’t act like you wanted to marry that fucking ponce.”
Anger ignited in your chest, “No, I didn’t.” You admitted, your eyes zeroing in on his, “I wanted to marry you .” Your voice was steadily desolate, but you could feel all the emotions you’d had tucked away all this time rising to the surface again.
“But you didn’t want that. And I know you had your reasons,” you closed your eyes and crinkled your brow at that, “and I know you were scared to have ties to anyone…but…But I wanted to marry you more than anything . And-and he and I might not be a perfect match,” your voice wavered, as you tried to convince even yourself that your next words were true, “but he wants what I want. He wants to get married, to have kids, to have a life .” You felt the stab in your chest at the lies you just told, had been telling for some time.
“I’ll do it.” His voice was serious, sure.
Your lips trembled, your breath hitched. You let silence linger between the both of you, waiting for him to rescind, or add some impossible caveat. But the silence only deepened until it became its own pitfall. “What?”
“I’ll do it.” He repeated. You felt the world shift under you. “Marry me.” Ghost’s hands grasped your elbows tighter, emphasizing his words.
You shook your head, barely pressing further against the door and away from him. “No.”
“You just said-”
“You don’t want to marry me.” You spoke before you could even think, but you could feel the truth behind your words as they were formed on your tongue, “You’re only saying this out of necessity, and you’ll hate me for it later,” your voice shook light as you finished, “just let me go pick up the pieces of my life. Again .”
“It’s not out of necessity.” He said simply, as if that addressed everything in itself.
Your eyes narrowed with scrutiny, “It is . Why else would you do this now ? At the eleventh hour? It’s not…” your voice trailed off, your mind racing and picking up elsewhere, “I let go for us both . It was supposed to be for us both . You couldn’t give me what I wanted and I tried to stay and make that work- But it hurt that you didn’t want all this with me, and you were hurting because I was hurting, and…Just why?” You searched his eyes desperately for an answer, for any semblance of reason for all this.
He reluctantly spoke, pulling one arm away from yours to bring his hand to your cheek, “I didn’t know you were getting married until a few days ago. I couldn’t have come any sooner, I’m sorry.” You hesitated.
This wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from all those years ago. There was a depth, a mournful regret in them, and you could feel it. All these years apart, he’d regretted letting you go. He’d known you were with someone else at one point, but he always thought he’d have more time, another chance.
But when he learned of your impending wedding, he finally pulled the wool, the false sense of security, from his eyes and saw things as they were. And he had to get to you.
Your lower lip trembled, “And…stealing me from my wedding was your solution?”
Ghost clenched his jaw, a harsher edge entering his eye then, a scheming one. “I…needed to…break it.” The dark edge of his tone, the calculated methodology behind his plan… “I needed to break it so he wouldn’t trust you again, wouldn’t want to try again with you. I needed it to make it look like you didn’t want to marry him. So he wouldn’t give you another chance even if you wanted it.” He tried to read your lost expression, tried to see if you thought he was the monster he felt like, even as he tried to rationalize that he wasn’t one, “But I saw your face,” his thumb brushed your cheek, “I saw it was true. You didn’t want to marry him.”
“That’s not-”
“So, marry me.” Your heart fell into your stomach hearing those words you’d always wanted to hear, but it was too late. You two disagreed on too many things, wanted different things, couldn’t be a good match, not anymore.
…Right?
Your brain fought for a thought, a reason this wouldn’t work, a reason you couldn’t have what you’d wanted, what you secretly had always wanted, what was in front of you right now. “I-I want kids, you never-”
“Have as many as you like.”
“No,” you said, the anger of your old arguments rising again like a phoenix, You remembered all the times he’d insisted you could go to a donor bank. “I want to have our children, not some stranger’s, not so you can resent them even more-”
His thumb grazed your cheek lovingly again, “I could never resent anything that came from you.” The wave of anger immediately dissipated. His eyes were sincere, selfless.
You shook your head gently again, standing your ground, “I want yours.” You knew his twisted idea of what his children would be like, he’d confessed as much to you in the past. You always wished he’d give you the chance to prove him wrong.
He bit his cheek. Old disagreements with you had led him to confront the truth of his feelings on the matter. He was convinced that he was…tainted. That any children he made would be monsters, just like him. Maybe worse. They would be twisted and hateful, right from your womb, and it wouldn’t be your fault.
And how could he do that to you? How could he give you something you would love beyond reason, only for his own horrible blood to have poisoned it, and torture you with the burden of loving it anyway?
But…but maybe you could cancel it out.
Maybe there was enough good in you to erase the generations of awful in him. Maybe you could help him break the cycle, breathe new life into his name.
“Alright.” He said finally. Your breath hitched, this was one argument you had never been able to make any headway on. And here he was, agreeing to your terms. Waving the white flag for you - something he’d never done before. “I’ll give you as many as you want.”
“Simon…” You said with wide eyes, lost for any other words. In one day, your whole reality had shifted. On what was supposed to be a day of cementing yourself down and in place on this earth, here you found yourself guiltily floating through what new possibilities his words meant, what they could mean.
He sighed, wanting to move on from that already, “What else do you want? A house? A dog? My soul? It’s yours already, just say yes.”
Your heart beat frantically in your chest, its hopes rising at the prospect of finally having everything you’d ever wanted with the man you’d always wanted. But your mind wouldn’t accept it; couldn’t accept it.
No, he wasn’t serious. It wouldn’t work. He didn’t understand the gravity of what he was agreeing to.
“...no,” you whispered, the emotion swelling in your eyes as you broke your own heart all over again. He pulled his other arm away from holding yours, bringing his other hand to cup your cheek just the same as the other. Your hands gripped the satin of your dress nervously as his blue eyes bore into yours.
“What is it now, love? What is it that I can’t give you?” His voice was low and sincere, no hint of the frustration you used to expect at this point in your past conversations. Just an open and offering palm, extending itself further and further to you.
Your answer came in a choked sob, “You won’t love me,” tears spilled over, your head falling forward towards him, unable to hold his eye contact any longer.
“I have this far.” His answer was simple, true. You shook your head in his hands, “You were going to marry another man, for Christ’s sake, and I still love you.” There was a dark humor in those words.
One of his hands moved to hold your chin and raised your gaze back to his. “You won’t ,” you said again in a breath, “you won’t when you’re not sleeping because of a baby you didn’t want… you won’t love me because you didn’t want any of it, and I’ll be to blame; I’ll the one that forced it all on you.” The phantom guilt already hung heavy in your chest, his future misery was too much to bear. The thought of him resenting you and those blue eyes going cold when he looked at you was too much to bear.
“What are you forcing on me?” Ghost’s voice was different now; darker, more stern. “I stole you, remember?” The dark mockery came in the form of a low, dangerous chuckle. “You should know,” his voice grew impossibly lower, his eyes looking down at your chest, at the roundness of your breasts, at the waistline of your dress, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
You sucked in a breath, “W-what?”
The hand on your chin moved to pull the black surgical mask from his face, revealing the faintest smirk that hung crookedly on his lips. “Did you really think I did all this just so you could tell me no?” His hands moved to your waist then, searching fingers taking hold of the buttons on your dress and moving deftly to undo them.
Author's Note: Next chapter we are headed down a dubious road, be ready!